I weighed myself this morning and it was 197.2...
It's been steadily climbing over the past few months and I've watched and watched as 15 to almost 20 lbs as quickly slammed back onto my body.
Clothes getting tighter...
Stretch marks turning that dull shade of red...
It's not like I should be surprised really I stopped doing the things that were making the difference as they were before.
I gave it all up because I plateau'd. I got burnt out. Fed up with the rules, the control. The constant thinking about weight loss. It wore me out.
And when I gave up, I gave myself excuses.
When I started this my blog was called Day 1... cause I lived everyday as if it were the first day of my commitment. The first day for me to make a difference. To care.
... I'm in tears right now... cause I just realized it is day 1,013 of my journey... ....
I missed day 1,000... it totally passed me by ... unnoticed, unannounced. Not celebrated.
After all my effort, all my sweat and pain. I've allowed it to come to this. I felt like such a hypocrite.
I failed. I couldn't keep it all together.
So what does that mean now?
Do I allow myself to just continue "giving in" as I have before?
Allowing that piece of cake...
Skipping that workout...
Forgetting to track my food...
Where will that get me? Keep letting the pounds pack on and on? The depression sink in further? My health deteriorate?
No. That's not what I want for my life.
I've titled this blog post "The Recovery Run" cause for some reason tonight I decided to go for a run tonight. Call it guilt. Or boredom. Or just wanting to run. Whatever the reason, I did.
Recovery runs are something runners do after they've had a long run. Runners do them to help maintain their fitness, keep their muscles fresh, and to challenge them to run hard even when they are fatigued. I haven't been on a run for 46 days. It felt good. Real good. It felt especially good cause today I restrained myself from temptation. (No popcorn or candy at the movies. A healthy dinner.)
It may not seem like much in the grand scheme of things. This one silly ol' day. But each day is a battle, each day counts, and they add up in the long run.
After this long of "letting myself go" I know it will be hard. I know I'll want to stop. I know I'll have to fight.
This is my recovery.
This is my restart.
This is my Day 1,013. And every day counts.
Onward, DubyaWife, onward.
Get Mean. Make a Decision. Choose Health!