Back in the Saddle...

And by "saddle", I mean, gym.

For the first time in at least a month, I finally dragged my sorry ass over to Le Planet Fitness. (the "le" makes it fancier.) I've been the queen of excuses. Sure, i've been running, but running alone isn't going to do all of the work. You need to do some weight training to make the running go better. I know this. And yet, I still can't "find time" to get over there. It's one goddamn T stop away from Davis...it's a 10 minute walk. The walk from the gym to home is no longer than the walk from Davis to home. What is the problem then, you ask?! I have no idea. I usually spend about an hour there, and with travel to and fro, that makes it about a 2 hour time block. If I have nighttime activities, then it certainly eats into my precious naptime. And sometimes, the nap wins. It's no fun to be tired all of the time because you're depriving yourself of sleep. Sure, I could start going to bed at 7pm and then be fully rested. But let's be honest here...that'll never happen.

I didn't have Scrooge rehearsal tonight, so when I found that out, I made the plan to hit the gym. I packed my little bag. And I thought about what I would do while I was there. Since running outside, I really have a hard time getting on a treadmill. Buuuuut, I did a pretty good run yesterday and wasn't planning on running anyway. I did a 30 min interval thing, switching between the bike and the elliptical, at a rate of 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 minutes. EOB put it best when she explained it to me..."Once you've done the first 5 minutes, that's the longest you'll be on that machine." Awesome. I could definitely tell that my endurance has gotten better. My legs certainly weren't like jelly when I was done and I wasn't wheezing or anything. Now, after that, I went over to the mat and started doing some crunches and stuff like that. Yeeeeah. I only did 50 crunches today. I used to be able to do 100, no problem. Something to work on, check. Did some weights, blahblah. But I was there for a little over an hour. I felt good. I felt accomplished.

I like to make excuses, as we all do. I like to pretend like I'm doing the best I can, when in fact, I could probably step it up. No, I CAN DEFINITELY step it up. My body has gotten used to it's size, it's activity level and to get things moving again, I need to shock it into cooperating. (And I type this as I'm drinking a Nesquik chocolate milk. Alright, Sue me. I love it. I don't have it a lot, and I actually saved this bottle for at least a day. That should get me some bonus points.) I was talking to a coworker today about this being the first time I'm going to the gym in over a month and he laughed and was like "put THAT in your blog".

Okay, Tino Mosserino, here it is.

I'M A SLACKER.

I never intended that this blog would sound like I'm holier than thou and do all of these wonderful things. I struggle. A lot. Old habits die hard, friends. There are definitely times when I just want to stuff my face and say "forget it all". But then I do realize that as soon as I do that, I'm going to feel terribly sick...besides extremely guilty. I indulge when it's worth it. I make concessions when I need to. I definitely make better choices than I used to. But, in all of that, the quiet habits of my past creep up once in awhile. The urge to buy a gallon of chocolate milk and drink it all in a day. The urge to wander down to Lyndell's bakery, spend some moolah and come back with a box of sugary treats and put myself into sugar shock from delightfully amazing pastries. The urge to eat cheeseburgers while wrapped in a snuggie. And of course, the urge to taste the syrupy sweetness of a Dr. Pepper again...

Let's be clear...these ideas roll around in my head, but they certainly don't come to fruition. No, I haven't actually done any of those things...okay, maybe eating 1 solitary cheeseburger while wearing my snuggie...but the others are merely twisted former-fat-girl fantasies. (I suppose I'm still fat...but...I'm trying to think of myself as "normal" sized, as I pretty much am.) I know I'm not the only one who may fantasize about a meal, or a certain piece of food. That's how I used to live my life. It was not healthy. Constantly thinking about food, when can you get the next fix, where can you get it. It really is like drugs. I don't know if I'd go so far as to say that I was a food addict. (I only say this because my old habits were "relatively easy" to break...I didn't require professional help to change my ways.) I know a few people who I could possibly categorize as food addicts and it's a tough thing. I wouldn't wish that on anyone. It's hard enough to be fat, but to feel like you have absolutely no control over food. I suppose that need for control is what causes people to develop eating disorders.

Control is an interesting subject. You want things to go your way. You want to feel like you are the master of your own destiny. You don't want to feel like are subject to the whims of the universe. But, in this journey, I have control over a few things. I can control the amount of work I put in. I can make myself go to the gym, workout, run, do yoga, etc. OR I can do absolutely nothing. I can control what I put into my mouth. But I cannot control how my body physiologically reacts to the work I am doing. I can't make the pounds fall off. I can try to change my brain, but I can't completely ensure that some old thoughts/habits won't come crawling back. I can only try to fight it. I can lace up my shoes. I can put on my pink workout clothes. I can sweat. I can drink more water. It won't be easy. It won't be impossible. It'll have it's ups and down. But in the end, I can only hope that it'll all be worth it...

*BING* This is your captain speaking...please fasten your seatbelts, it may be a bumpy ride.