It's the middle of February, we just had a snow day on a day that was supposed to be a make-up snow day. It's cold, it's icy out, winter seems like it's been here forever and spring seems a million miles away.
I've hit that plateau, that hanging on by my fingernails, that basically I'm ready to crash and burn and completely fall off the wagon of all things good and all things hard. My mind is no longer in the game, my body slowly in the starting stages of morphing back into that which it once was, that which I did not like.
I've been hanging out here for the last year... eating the same foods, doing the same exercise training, basically maintaining the same weight within a pound or two, feeling overall pretty ok with how I looked. And then that all started to change. Well the same foods and same exercising didn't change - but the weight and the feeling ok about myself did. And you know what, I know they go hand in hand. I know my body needs a little “shake it up” with what I’m putting in and it and what I’m expecting out of it. I know my attitude and outlook also could use a little “shake it up” about right now.
I have a closet full of new clothes I've acquired over the last twelve months, I have an instagram account full of inspirational quotes and smiling selfies after big accomplishments. I have a blog with posts about the journey, the battle, the struggle, the loss, the attempted inspiration I want to be to others. I also have a strong cup of coffee next to me with real creamer in it this morning. Not sugar free, not fat free, not a packet of sweet-n-low, no I got out the full fat, full sugar creamer and probably poured in more than the two tablespoons, two points worth that I'm going to log it as on my faux weight watchers old school app.
What good are the new clothes if they don't fit anymore? What good is the inspiration and aspirational social media posts if I can't believe or follow them myself anymore? And surely, what good is a first cup of coffee in a silent house without some good ol full flavor creamer in it?!?
I went to bed resolving I was not going to get up early this morning. I was also not going to weigh in this morning. It was only going to show a gain and I didn't want to see it or deal with the mind games it was going to throw at me. I was not going to run this morning. My back hurt and I'm getting a cold and mostly because I just didn't want to.
And then my alarm went off at 4:00 a.m. and I climbed out of bed. And I played this stupid game in my head as I fed the dog and got my shoes on and my water out of the fridge and headed downstairs. Just walk today. Ok just do intervals today. Maybe every other mile. Maybe every half mile. Maybe run the first mile and walk the rest. Maybe don't do all five miles. Maybe just walk two miles and call it good. Good Gandhi girl just get on the darn treadmill and get it over with.
And I did.
And you know what? I ended up running all five miles and when I went to log it in my app, it came up as the fastest five mile pace I've done. And that was on a treadmill of all crazy things. And then I went upstairs and stood in the bathroom looking at the scale. It's Tuesday. I'm supposed to weigh in on Tuesdays. Sure is funny that's it's so much more exciting to stand there on the mornings when you have an anticipated loss vs the mornings when you know that is probably not going to be the case. And then I put my toe on it and it turned on and then I climbed on the damn thing.
It wasn't horrible, but it wasn't anywhere close to what I was wanting it to be, even though I knew that was not going to be the case. I didn't gain this week. I'm not where I want to be anymore, but I didn't gain this week. Small victory, even if I'm not feeling anywhere near to victorious right now.
I got up, I fought the inner demons, and can cross off today's five miles on my training calendar. I even PR'd of all the crazy things. I didn't gain this week. I should be flying on a runners high of great accomplishments today, but I'm not. I still feel a failure, still feel victim of the battle, the inner war of perfectionism, of control, of not enough.
It's the season, it's the society surrounding me, it's the media bombarding me, it's my past scratching mercilessly at me, it's my future taunting me, laughing at me.
I'm not sure what to actually even do, where to go next... but I do know where I don't want to end back up, where I don't want to succumb to again. So I will continue to hang on just a little longer, I will vow to fight on just a little longer, I will resolve to turn this back around, somehow... some way... before I end up all the way back to square one. And you know what, even if I do end right back up there, I am not a failure. Sure, I'm going to feel like one, heck I already do and I'm only up six pounds of the forty... But deep inside I do know it's not about the number on the scale, it's not about the miles on the app, the pace those miles took to complete.
It's about the journey ~ and oh how easy it is to lose sight of that isn't it, at least for me anyway. Funny how clear and bright and energy filled the good days can be, and how fuzzy and bleak and heavy the bad days can be. And it seems I've had more of those bleak days than I have those blazing days lately, but I need to just keep hanging on... just keep hanging on...
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I'm thankful for your blog. It's has touched me at my lowest point. Thanks for putting yourself out there.
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