Balance

I want to be a better wife.  I want to be a better employee.  I want to be a better citizen.  I want to be a better cook.  I want to look better.  I want to be smarter.  I want to sing better.  I want to dance better.  I want to be more humble.  I want to be less humble.  I want to eat better.  I want to binge.  I want to be a runner.  I want to stop caring about running.  I want to take more exercise classes.  I want to lift weights.  I want to sit around and watch tv until my brains rot.

I want to embrace all of these aspects of myself and try to get to a place of balance.

As I mentioned, I'm currently vying for a promotion at work.  I'm putting a lot of pressure on myself about it, and I'm trying to ease up a little.  After all, there are a large number of candidates and only a few slots.  But once I've gotten started with the pressure, it's kind of hard to ease up.  In my mind, I'm running stairs Rocky-style. I'm training for this interview like I imagine people train to take their boards.  (Or that's what it looked like on Grey's Anatomy.)  But I'm really scared.  I really want this job, but again there a lot of candidates and they really want the job too or they wouldn't have applied.  So, if I'm putting all this pressure on myself to get this job, and I don't get it.  Then what?  I'm not going to sugarcoat it, I'm more than a little worried about that.  It's hard to be pushing to get something but also knowing that I might not get it.  I want to be prepared for that contingency, but not so prepared that that negativity clouds my optimism and determination.  And I don't want my optimism and determination to punch me in the gut if I don't get it.

I want to have the balance.  I'm just not sure how to go about getting it.  And ironically, how I'm dealing with this stress demonstrates this balance problem to a T.  It's a combination of over-indulgence and exercise.  I finally bought a full on stepper so I could get some height over the Wii balance board I've been using.  Really felt the burn when I used it on Friday night -- in between shots of the new pumpkin pie vodka I bought.  Only me, right?  This weekend was Scott's birthday, so there was plenty of overindulgence.  But this morning I got up and wogged my 5k in the neighborhood.  (Only 5 days left to train for the Susan G Komen.)

Things have a way of working out.  Whether I get this promotion or not, I still have a job I like.  I am supposed to find out the day before I do the race.  Positive or negative outcome, that's definitely going to give me something to think about for 45 minutes.

Wish me luck and thanks for reading!

hugs,

Heather

The F Word

I'm not sure if I've ever really addressed this, but since it's come up a couple of times this weekend in various forms I thought it might be a good time to write about it.

The F word.  Yes, the one that's really considered dirty -- fat.

At book club on Friday night, one of the ladies asked me why I call my blog Inside Heather's Fat instead of something "more positive" (I'm paraphrasing) like Heather's Getting Fit or something.  The truest answer overall is because of  my original blog, which was titled Inside Heather's Head.  I was just trying to spin off of that.

But that's not really all there is to it.  The word fat and fatness in general means something in our society.  You don't just throw the word out there, anymore than you would a racial epithet.  Or would you?  Because in fact we do.  We call ourselves fat, we call other people fat and if we don't say the word we certainly all but imply it.

Prior to my first serious attempt at Weight Watchers (see the history of this fat), I had a co-worker as me if I were pregnant.  But the best part was when I said no, she asked me if I was sure.  Like I would be THAT pregnant and not know it?  I had to gently explain that no, I was just fat.  As hard as that was, it wasn't even the first time in my adult life someone had asked me if I was pregnant, so at least I had lived through the experience once before.

But this Saturday, the young check-out girl at the Harris Teeter just put it all on the table.  She asked me if I thought I was fat.

I am not making this up.  She was very young and luckily I also have a hearing problem, so I didn't understand what she said at first.  Which actually made the situation a bit worse.  What happened was that we were bringing our stuff to check out.  Scott had to go get something so it was just me and Teenie Bop.  She starts going on and on about how great I look in the color I have on.  She says that her mom is about my size and then she holds her hands kind of far about in a fat but curvy kind of way.  NOT flattering.  Then she starts s l o w l y checking out my purchases and still going on and on with what I think she truly believes is flattery.  She's trying to explain how she thinks her mom would look great and the fact that I'm basically this fat person (she has not dropped the f*bomb yet, but it's coming) and willing to be out in public putting it out there is proof.  (I had on an orange v-neck shirt and a pair of white shorts, this is not ground-breaking fat fashion here.)  She then asks me if I think I'm fat?  I can't hear what she says.  She is getting embarrassed and doesn't want to repeat what she says.  She's giggling and saying "oh, this is too personal."  But then eventually asks me the question again.  Well, I still can't quite hear it and give up and just say yes to whatever she's asking.

That's when I realized, based on whatever she's babbling about now that she asked me if I think I'm fat and I answered yes.

I really would have been more mortified if I didn't have the moral superiority that poor dingbat would be a cashier for the rest of her life. 

It didn't cause me to spiral into depression.  But it certainly made me think about the F word a lot.  The usage of it and especially the usage of it as it applies to me.  And that's the real reason behind why I keep the Fat in my blog title.  I know who I am and I know where I came from.  I could get down to the bottom of my target weight range but I will always be a fat girl.  Because I have to know that.  I have to know that it's possible for me to go back to the same mental traps that got me to be a fat girl on the outside.  Because if I deny that part of myself, then it's just as easy to go back.  It's no different than alcoholism -- I can't forget that I have problem ever.  Every day, every step is a choice to go in a different direction.

But at the end of the day, in the ironic spirit of my nod to AA -- my name is Heather and I am a fat girl.

hugs,
Heather

Let's Give 'em something to talk about

My advance apologies if I am talking about you and something that you said to me.   I am documenting my weight loss journey on the world wide web.  I talk about the fact that I am eating healthier and trying to be more active.  I am an unapologetic point counter and weighing checks and balances.  It's not uncommon for people to make comments to me both positive and negative or just weird along the way.

I don't usually talk about those things that people say.  I don't talk about them here because for one thing I'm posting things on the worldwide web and I chose to do that.  They didn't choose to have me discuss these comments on the worldwide web.  But on the other hand, it's not a secret. 

My godmother says to me that she's worried because it seems like I'm getting down about my weight.  Or I'm obsessing about it.  I can't remember the exact word, but it was along these lines.  I try to explain that I'm NOT obsessing, per se, but it has become a part of my life to try to be healthier.  But frankly if she had been with me on this occasion or the other, she would not think by any stretch that I was being obsessed.  (Frankly, I think this was in part projecting because she had spent some time with a friend whose daughter is anorexia.)  I couldn't stop thinking about this part of the conversation later though, even though we talked for at least 30 minutes about all kinds of things.  I've been every weight, she knows I've been every weight and she knows that I haven't been at a healthy weight for some time.  Or just healthy body type.  I'm not trying to get to be a size 0 here, I'm just trying to get to a weight which is considered healthy for my body type.  Like size 10.  Or even 12.  I know that when I was in high school I thought I was fat even though I was a size 4 and the only thing fat about me was my hair.  But that was over 20 years ago.  I don't think I'm fat because I'm trying to meet some society standard of ideal body type -- I think I'm fat because I'm fat. 

But I'm a lot less fat than I was a year ago.  And I'm a lot fatter than I'm going to be a year from now, hopefully.

It maybe seems like I'm obsessing, because I'm on the internet talking about it.  But that's a mostly anonymous outlet for me to spout out the stuff that I would otherwise be boring people to tears with.  (Well, I already do, but think about how much worse it could be?)

Then there was the co-worker who was always trying to bribe me/thank me with chocolate, which I started declining because the 6 or 8 points or whatever wasn't worth it.  I didn't want to pay for it.  But she took it to mean that I'm all sacrificing everything and throwing myself on the alter of clean eating or something, because the other day she tried to bribe me/thank me by offering me (and I am not making this up) air popped unseasoned popcorn.  I mean, really?  That's all you got?  At least find a Skinny Cow candy bar and try to fake the funk, man.  Ridiculous. 

Similar incident with mother in law coming for dinner the other night.  She wanted to bring dessert, and I asked what she was going to bring so I could plan for it.  It was something that I knew by the sound of it would be high in points so I said that I would just not have any.  This definitely came across as being the wrong thing to say because then she decided not to bring it, even though there would be 3 other people eating who likely have enjoyed it.  I felt guilty about that all day.  I shouldn't have said anything and then just politely declined when the time came.  Or sliced a piece you could read through.  Or something.  But because I am so used to sharing with people my eating habits and talking here about challenges, et cetera I just couldn't stop my big mouth.  If you're reading this, I feel bad that I cake-blocked you -- it was not my intent! 

But finally, in something good someone talked about, another co-worker told me that I gave her some inspiration and some encouragement to be honest with herself and get going.  We didn't get the chance to talk much more than that, because I work in a call center and the phone rang and then the whole day ran away with the spoon -- but I knew it was going somewhere good.  And I like that.  Because there have been so many people along my journey who inspire me, so if I can be that person for somebody -- then that's the whole point of doing this in the first place, right?  To misquote Mahatma Gandhi of all people, I should be the change I want to see in the world.

I am also trying to get better about being a better blogger -- I even have another post I'm working on about the highs and the lows. 

hugs,

Heather

Starting to tap into inner bad ass

When we last left our heroine (me), she was tapping in to her I don't give a fuck side.  After "Freaky Friday" at the compound, that side took over with a vengeance.

Y'all, we flipped 200lb tires.  By ourselves.  It was crazy.  I only was able to do it 5 times, but trust that was 5 more times than I thought I was going to be able to do it.  We also then smashed the tire with a sledgehammer, and if you think that wasn't fun you got another think coming.  GOOD times. 

We started the night out with our usual fun run around the building.  My team swears I'm keeping up, but I still don't really feel like I am.  Then we played tug o' war and our team never lost!  It was awesome!  After that was when we learned the maneuver to flip the tire and the sledgehammer pounding thing.  Then we worked as a team to flip the tire 200 times and pound the sledgehammer 250 times.  I stayed on the sledgehammer the whole time because I don't think I could have done that many reps flipping the tire and then do the post-workout run around the building.

We turned in our food journals and they were very insistent that names would be named for not sticking to the food plan.  I have an issue with that and not just because I wasn't always 100% with the food plan.  This is a new thing for everyone, and we're all doing the best we can.  Do we need to make everyone do burpees for every pat of butter we eat or glass of wine?  That just seems a bit extreme.

As for the food, which I keep saying I'm going to talk about.  It's been a challenge because you always have to plan.  You can't just wing it.  There is a definite need to cook and prep.  I can't just throw a frozen dinner in my lunch and be done with it for the day.   Consequently, I am eating a lot of salads for lunch.  I don't necessarily mind, but in order for it to be good there's a fair amount of prep that has to go into that too.  If I were a smarter person, I'd spend today chopping and prepping for the week this afternoon...  But that would require unwrapping from my cozy blankie and getting away from the tv on a rainy Sunday. 

But the thing is that I can't believe how far I've come mentally since Tuesday, food whining aside.  I think it was the tires or maybe that Friday was more fun or maybe the PMS finally broke -- all I know is that by Friday night I was feeling freaking sassy!  Like, this is really hard, but I'm doing it.  I can do this.  And if I can do this, then I can do whatever I want!

That's probably a dangerous thought pattern, huh?

Happy Sunday friends!

Heather

Boot Camp - 1 down

40 people divided into teams of 10.  The instructors asked for volunteers to be team leaders from military and rescue personnel.  One of the only non-depressing parts of this was that I was not the last person picked.  ::phew::  It was really like kickball all over again.

Here's the workout of the day (WOD in Crossfit speak)...  We warmed up by running (or in my case run/walk/jog/cry) 800 meters.  Then we did relays of walking like a bear for a distance I couldn't tell you and sprinting back; broad jump the same distance and sprinting back and then lunge walks the distance and then sprint back.  Each of these we did two times each.  The losing teams then had to do burpees as punishment.  In between sessions.  I pretty much sucked at all of this, but the lunging was far and away the worst.  I have always sucked, sucked, sucked at lunges.  And then to have to do them while walking?  And to have to touch the knee to the ground?  I mean, they had minimal work-around -- one girl had to go back because her lunges were improper.  I almost cried at the thought of that.  Luckily, praise the Gods, they had some pity on the fat girl and for my second round my team leader Leah came and helped me through it.  SO awesome!

Then we went into the gym.  Because all of that was on the asphalt.  Photos of knee to follow, but I can't complain because we had some bleeders.  I think they're a lot more bad ass than my princess self and didn't mind the blood.  Good for them. 

So, in the gym, we were told that the box jump is the most basic Crossfit move.  And in all of the Crossfit stuff you see on the web, this is one of the most common things done.  I literally could not do this.  It was mortifying.  Finally, one of our awesome trainers took pity on me and told me to just step on it.  I wanted to jump on that box so bad I could taste it.  I could literally feel the box under my feet in my head.  But trying to tell that to my ass and gravity was just not working out...  Maybe Wednesday? 

We partner up.  Of course Tina and I partnered up.  The routine is box jump for a minute, squats for a minute, then push-ups for a minute.  You do 3 rounds of that then switch off. 

And when you see written down what we did, it doesn't seem like much.  Yet, by the faces of the people in the room, it was a lot.  I know that when I almost puked, I (to steal Tina's line) realized I had never worked out a day in my life.  Not even in the body challenge.  Or at least, my body forgot the body challenge.

I'm not going to quit.  I have 11 more sessions plus the challenge day and I am going to get through this. 

And then I may never work out again.  :)   Just kidding -- I hope!

I'll talk about my diet next time I write, because that has been quite the adventure.

I'd hug you but I can't lift my arms,
Heather

"So this is what commitment feels like"*

I'm trying to get back in to blogging, as you can hopefully see, but every time I fail at a commitment I made to myself I think, "I don't want to write about THAT!  I can't tell them that happened..."

But I guess that's supposed to be the point, isn't it?  It can't be all running and staying on the wagon and eating rice cakes (:::shudder:::), now can it?  (Shut up, I know it was never like that!) 

It's going to be falling off the wagon and strapping on a bag of Tostito's like it's feedbag (AKA Tuesday) and one day last week where I think I consumed almost nothing but sugar and caffeine.  (That was so bad that I did almost blog about it to get away from the shame, but I was probably too wired to form coherent thoughts about it.)  The question is do I write about that?  Do I want to publicize my descent?  Do I think NOT publicizing it will mean it's not happening?

Well, yeah, I think there's a part of me that definitely thinks that.  Not like an active conscious thought, exactly...  I was talking to Kiosk about her sugar trigger, because she is coming up on a difficult time frame to deal with that.  She asked me for advice on how to deal with it, even though she acknowledged that she didn't really expect me to have any.  (Gee, thanks!)  I suggested exposing herself -- not literally perv.  She has a cake batter weakness because no one is around to see her eating it when she makes a cake.  I suggested invite someone over to her ostensibly to "help" make the cake, but really they're helping by not leaving her alone with the cake batter. 

And then I thought, "doctor, heal thyself."  Because that's my thing.  If I don't blog about my failures, then that's like snarfing the cake batter alone, isn't it?  If I commit to something and then don't follow through, what difference does it make if I'm committing it to myself?  No one is there to see when I screw up.  Again. 

Here are just a few of the things I have recently committed to and not followed through:  not drinking during the week, working out at least three times a week, following the plan at Spark People and you get the idea.  I commit to doing something or commit to avoiding something but the end result is the same: lots of not following through followed by strapping on a bag of Tostito's and the cycle continues. 

The problem is that I can't just not try to commit, because that's not going anywhere good.  So, I think what I'm going to do is just commit to one thing at a time.  Once I've fully embraced that commitment and it's become a habit then I'm going to move on to another thing.  Because right now if I have wine at night, that's a shame spiral.  And if I don't track what I eat, then that's another excuse to have a calorie ball because I'm already in the shame spiral from not tracking it in the first place.  Sometimes I think I make commitments just so I can break them and dive in to the shame spiral.  (Epiphany!)  So, that's not going anywhere good either.  I don't know if this is the best plan towards success.  After all, I still hold a hope that I will end the year in the onederland.  But, I do know that since I have started to get back on track, I have only been successful with one thing at a time.  (Eww, kind of a bit like AA, one day at a time...)  So, I'm going to get back to being regular with the gym and once I have firmly accomplished that then I'm going to work on layering from that.

I will also try to keep blogging as I go.  But, that is TWO things so...  ;-)

Heather

*PS* Note on title:  Because I signed up for Spark People, I have been inundated with motivation emails.  Sometimes they are short parts of board posts from their in-sight bloggers.  This was the title of one that I did a rare save in my inbox so that every time I checked my mail I saw that.  I kept thinking that I too wanted to know what commitment feels like.  But, not in a cheesy annoying way -- in a way that's more kick-ass then that particular post turned out to be. 

A New Auld Lang Syne

     Many people know that one of my blog-spirations is the blog created by Ms. Bitchcakes, because she's a former fat girl who fell in love with exercise.  She also has a blog over at Weight Watchers and a recent post got me thinking....

     In this post, she talks about how a simple question from her allergist gave her the foundation for the inspiration to be a runner.  Something she never thought she would be or do and now she is preparing for the 2012 NYC Marathon.  Now, I don't want to be a marathon runner, but I would like to be able to run.  I have always seen this as something that other people do.  I don't run, because I'm not those people.  And I think I look like a dork.  And I have to breathe really hard and I tend to pray for death.  I mean, I don't call it the dreadmill for nothing. 
     But, you see, I am frequently reminded of a simple question that someone asked me and it's one of the driving forces as I get s l o w l y back into my work out routine.  I alluded to it in this post.  I was still working out at the gym at the office.  I had a disappointing work-out because I was using the dreadmill (that was the change in my cardio I was referring to) and felt like I didn't really get it in.  As I was walking out, my now boss was leaving work for the day.  We didn't really know each other, other then the fact that he hung out with the people in my cube quad...  In fact, I know that this conversation made no impression on him because it was one of those weird after-work awkward pleasantries exchange -- you know the kind you do because the only thing you have in common with this person is that you are stuck walking in the exact same direction to your parking lot?  Made further awkward because someone smells like a gym and someone doesn't?  Yeah.  Anyhoo, what he said was "did you have a good work-out Heather?"  And because he didn't know me, I'm POSITIVE that he was probably only expecting some trite answer like "yeah, sure" -- instead of my response, which was "No, frankly, it was a bit disappointing."
     I'm sure I followed it with something along the lines of, anything's better than nothing or whatever.  But the fact that I responded with expressing my disappointment -- I have never forgotten that.  Because that is a feeling that I struggled to get away from when I was "in it to win it" earlier this year and it's a struggle to get away from now. 
     But, the thing is that when gaining and losing weight is your primary hobby -- every stage is familiar.  After New Year's Day, if you blow that -- well you just declare another day New Year's Day and THAT'S the day by gosh that is really going to be the first day of the rest of my life.
     Except it's not.
     Because the first day of the rest of my life started over 38 years ago.  All the rest?  Well, that's just been my life.


     And today is just today.

It was one of those weird stupid a-ha moments this morning.  "Today is just today."  It's not the first day of anything, it's not the last day of anything.  There's nothing that I do today that is going to necessarily be the beginning -- or the end -- of anything.  Today is just today.  And today I just have to do the best job that I can to not feel disappointed by myself and the effort that I give to this progression.  And tomorrow, I'm probably going to have to do that too -- but that's tomorrow.  I'm going to let that work itself out.  Today is just today.  I'm just going to work on today and the things that I can do today. 

    Today, I did get up and go to the gym.  And I did a 5 minute elliptical warm up and then I got on that dreadmill and I manage to do an under 16 minute mile.  Will I do that tomorrow?  Don't know.  Because that's tomorrow's problem.  Today is just today.  Today I did not drink at night after yet another long day.  I did not have the extra cup of coffee I was starting to get a little too dependent on.  I managed to avoid eating a fair amount of crap.  And today, I got on the scale and decided to stop kidding myself.  Today I stared at my weight and realized that I was kiddding myself before.  Because I've been to the gym a few times, I've forgiven myself a whole host of unacceptable behavior and have actually gained 3 pounds (or more) since I started back.  Today, I decided to forgive myself.

And that was the most important decision of all.  Will I be able to make that decision tomorrow?  Will my work out be disappointing?

Don't know.  I'm stil in today.

Heather

The Good, the bad and the Unfashionable

Well, Spring is springing.  This is a season that gets most people excited about warm weather on the horizon and the chance to bust out their toes and revel in the freedom from turtlenecks.

Most people, but not fat people.  Or not this fat person anyways.  Maybe you are not affected by the change of seasons.  Maybe it doesn't create the same level of heartburn in you that it does for me.  If not, you may want to peruse other blogs and pop back in at the next entry...

Since 2004, when I first started caring about the extra weight that I carry, the change of seasons traditionally induces a sort of panic.  What the heck am I gonna wear?  Usually I am in some sort of weight adjustment, up or down and nothing in my wardrobe is appropriate.  Too tight or too small or just too "what was I THINKING?!" 

In fact, I have quite a lot of "what was I thinking" in my wardrobe.  Things that I purchased just to get through a season, to fill in gaps.  They are quickly too small, too big or just too blah for me to want to wear -- and yet I hold on to them.  If I emptied my closet and drawers of all of the clothes I have purchased to try to survive another temperature change, I would probably have all kinds of additional storage space.  That's not even addressing the containers shoved under my bed.  (But this is perhaps fodder for another blog of the future -- Inside Heather's Disorganization.)

Shopping results in a lot of frustration, particularly when I am in a transitional phase either up or down.  Nothing seems to fit right and Lord knows I am not going to find a tailor, much less pay them to alter a $30 pair of pants.  And I'm not going to spend more on "good" pants when I know that this time I am going to get down to (name current desired size) once and for ALL.  So, capris bring with them the humiliation of too tight in the thighs and too loose in the waist and the joy that is my cankles.  Skirts must be flame retardant in order not to catch on fire from my thigh friction.  Dresses are frequently sleeveless and my arms haven't been much to write home about.  Not to mention the material that these adorable dresses are made of frequently are dead give-aways that I am a lady who does not glow but sweats, thank you VERY much!  Tank tops?  With these boobs?  I think not.  Even shoes are menacing.  The adorable espadrilles that were so popular last year have those laces that go up your calf and just look like a giant neon sign that says "CANKLES ON BOARD". 

I have a shopping event coming this weekend.  While I look forward to spending time with my girlfriend, the time in the dressing room is looming over me like a dark cloud.  But since I'm writing this in April wearing a turtleneck because of the lack of dressing options and the blessing of a cooler day (I'm not going to lie -- climate change is friendly to the clothing challenged) it is time to find some transitional options.  I'm hoping to find some options that are both budget friendly and more representative of usefulness through the summer, but I'm guessing I'll leave with a maxi dress to wear to Sertoma and a renewed vow to get more serious about adding extra workouts to my week.

Happy Spring anyways!

hugs,
Heather

Lucky

I just wanted to post another quick motivational word which is lucky.

I feel that I am extremely lucky to have this opportunity to explore what my body can do.  To see how I can shape my body from this to whatever the future holds.  Maybe I am intimidated by this 5k on Saturday, but I know that in 4 days I will be able to say that I did that.  Sure, I'm not running really and I'm not going to finish in a time that's going to give Carl Lewis pause, but I am going to be able to say I did it.  Something I have never, ever done before.  Something that even a few months ago if you had told me I was going to be able to do I would have laughed and laughed and then asked you to pass the remote.

I see teeny, microscopic changes in my body all of the time and it is really exciting.  This morning on the treadmill when I looked at my reflection in the window, maybe it was an optical illusion but I thought I could see the outline of my collar bone.  Most skinny girls don't know but this is up there in fat girl fantasy world -- collar bones.  When you're wearing something that exposes your neckline and you can see your collarbones just so, that's one of the ways you know you made it.  (That and your thighs not touching, but as you know from my previous post I have a long way to go for that!!)

So, I'm motivated by the fact that I'm lucky to have this opportunity to make my body do these things.  That I didn't get to a point where I died of pizza overdose or just gave up completely on ever being able to exercise. 

My new mantra is I will do this, because I CAN do this!

Happy Wednesday!
hugs,
Heather

Backslide...?

Last post was written after I'd already been indulging at the wedding a scosh. Although the time stamp seems off...

Anyways... It would seem that this week is representing a bit of a backslide for me. I'm trying to get my traction and dig in and push past it, but it's been really hard.

First, last week I "only" lost a pound. And yes, I know losing a pound is better than gaining, but it's still challenging. I am not unconditionally under 220 yet because of the overindulgences. More on this in a second.

Second, my backslide seems to have carried its evil way into my cardio. I was really starting to get a momentum going. Last week, I worked out every day and did 40 minutes on the treadmill for 3 days and 30 minutes on the elliptical the other days. It was a little rough, but I pushed through it. This week, I feel like I'm starting all over with my battle with the dreadmill. I can't go for more than 15 minutes without my calves tightening to the point of difficulty walking. When this was happening last week, I either slowed down significantly or stopped and stretched out and I was able to get past it. But I haven't been able to stretch past it so far this week. And there's that 5k looming over me.

So now, even though it's only been a couple of days, I'm starting to dread going to work out. Because I can't help but think, what if I never get past this? What if this always hurts and I'm just this wimp forever? And I get harder and harder on myself and it contributes to this downward spiral that doesn't lead to anywhere good.

It's still part of that emotional thing. I think I should be able to do this. In fact, my girlfriend and I went walking on Sunday and I had to slow her down significantly. She said, "I thought you'd be zooming past me with all this time you're spending at the gym." Nope, I'm just going to the gym so I can get to the point of zooming past you.

I think that part of the build up is the 5k looming. If it weren't coming, I wouldn't sweat not being able to walk on the treadmill. I'd just keep trying to do it until I could do it and work out on the elliptical and the bike in between. But because I know I'm just days away from doing this 5k, I'm freaking out. What if I can't do it? What if I can't finish?

What if I'm just same old disappointing Heather again?

It's a tough battle. It gets lonely.

And I am sure that this is part of the overindulgences. It's easy to give in and not fight temptation. It's easy to sabotage myself. That's my wheelhouse, right?

I know that I need to start keeping some motivational sticky notes and pictures on my mirror or something but I'm not even sure if that would work.

I think I may be getting some kind of mental cold. This happens sometimes, it's like the sniffles in my brain. A mild form of the blues. I keep waiting for the exercise endorphins to kick in and make me feel like I can cure cancer, but so far they haven't been kicking in.

I don't want to give up. I'm not going to give up. But I am really frustrated with my body right now and I just need to figure out how to get it to behave. That's all.