Monday, July 27, 2015
This time last year I was at the top of my game. I had lost a mess of weight and was looking great. Out with the size 18 and in with the 16 and fast approaching 14. No more 2X shirts and now I was into large and sometimes depending on the shirt a Medium. I was prepping to run 6.5 miles in a half of half marathon race. I was just happy. Happy with myself, happy with where I was, and happy in general because I was feeling so much better. Had so much confidence. The race came and then it left just as quickly. My training slowed as the weather changed. I kept getting sick as I do usually with the change of seasons and the kids bringing home all kinds of colds and flus. So I couldn't go to the gym or run while I was trying to keep track of my lungs. I was in a mess of trouble. So along came Thanksgiving, Christmas and with that came hardly any gym time. There was some but not as much as I needed to maintain where I had brought myself. After new years that was about it. I was going to the gym less and less. Running sometimes but not nearly as much as I was used to before. Next thing I knew my running shoes became a relic and were parked at the bottom of the coat closet and who knows when they were going to be used again. It makes me sad to think of all the work I did, how far I had come and how fast it all went away. I was 220 when I started last year. At my lowest in my journey I was 202. I was so close, I was so close that when I saw it I was so excited. So excited that I was going to be under 200 since before I had became pregnant with Anthony. I had all kinds of excuses and still do as to why I can't go to the gym, why I don't make smarter choices. You name it I'm sure I have found an excuse for it. Now all I am left with are my excuses, uncomfortable clothing and no self esteem... all over again. I hadn't weighed myself since I "fell off the wagon" because I just didn't want to know how bad it had become. Well I gathered the courage and strength to do so today. Thinking "it can't be too bad, I still fit in that one shirt". Well it was much worse than I had even thought...230. More that when I had started the first time. I have said it over and over again, and I am hoping that this time it sticks, that this time I follow through with the promise I had made to myself. To get up tomorrow and go and start my journey again. I want to get up and make sure that I have the right mind set as I did before. I am there for me and no one else. Let people stare, let them look (cause I know that's what people do there) at me. I don't want to go and buy clothes for the fatter me, I won't let this get me. I won't let it consume my life and make me miserable, I have to lift myself up and be proud of any progress that I make. Getting up and going is something to be proud of in itself. Making smart food choices and sticking to it is also something that I will be proud of. Small goals, that's how I was able to make such progress before. The only difference this time is that I will be the only one rooting for me while I am finishing the last set and that's ok. I have all the tools and knowledge I need, now I just have to make it a reality and do it. I have to for my kids and my husband, but most of all I have to do it for me.