I weighed in at 148. This means that in the entire month of September I only lost 3 pounds. But instead of spending the whole day crying, I got off the scale, did my workout, and went about my day. My weight does not matter. Would I love to be 118-125? Of course. Is it discouraging when your weight loss is going as slow as a turtle while you’ve been working out like a lioness? Yes. But you know what’s more motivating than fast weight loss and a low number on the scale? Feeling and seeing results. I measured myself on September 26th for the first time. I should have measured myself the very first day but I didn’t. In 11 days I have lost 1/2 an inch in each thigh and in the spare tire that’s deflating a lot faster than the scale is changing. I also have a lot more energy, I feel better and my clothes are getting looser. So, excuse my foul language, but f*ck the scale. I want to be fit, I want to be healthy, I want to have energy and be able to hike up a mountain without feeling like I’m going to die. If I can do all of this and look great while doing it then the scales don’t matter.
This was taken in July——This was taken in August.
I have lost some serious boob since then!
What does matter is that on Sunday I ran 3.3 miles!!! Yes, it took 38 minutes. Yes, there was a point where I thought I was going to throw up. And yes, my sister really did start grunting at one point. We made it up a massive hill and were probably 2 miles in when there was another hill up ahead, neither one of us expected it or were prepared for it. We started our slow way up and all I could think about was how dry my lips were and how there was this weird sensation in the back of my head that was making me want to puke. All of the sudden, I heard this noise. It was this strange quiet moan coming from the left. I looked over and there was no injured animal on the sidewalk, nothing that got hit by a car lying in the road, just my sister running beside me. I shook it off and went back to focusing on not throwing up when I heard the noise again, this time a little louder and longer. I looked over and realized it was my sister! She was literally moaning and grunting on the way up the hill, like she was giving birth or something. I started to wonder if it would help with the puke feeling if I did it too and I almost tried it myself but then decided it was just too weird. We made it to the top and she said, “Wow! That was rough. I started grunting there at one point!” I looked the other way (while making the “she’s crazy” face) and responded, “It was rough!! And yeah, I heard that…”
We ran the rest of the way pretty silently, saying things like “we’ve got this!” or “not much further” when we were thinking about giving up. When we finally made it to our destination the same feeling of pride and happiness came to me the way it did when I reached 2 miles, only this time Natalee was there to witness the happy dance. We are going to rock this 5k in November.
(The after the workout selfie. Those stupid straps coming out of my shirt were the latest thing to slap me in the face during my run. Oh the joys of exercise.)
Thanks for reading!