Moves like Phoebe
I’m doing some things differently. I’m only mentioning this because if I tell enough people, then I have no choice but to follow through.
First of all, I’m counting calories again. I’m doing this because I know it works, and it isn’t really even all that hard (except when PMS hits). I don’t have the time or energy for fad diets, so I will just stick with this. Over the past three years or so, I’ve had a lot of false starts with dieting, which is stupid because I’ve had a lot of success with it in the past. I don’t know why, though I suspect that it’s somehow related to my anxiety issues, as most problems are. I read this the other day, and it really resonated with me because it described all of my more recent attempts at dieting, if you can even call them that.
Anyway, somehow I’ve gotten it right this time and been consistent. In the past month or so, I’ve lost 11 pounds, but I’m not really ready to talk about my weight yet. The point is, I’m getting it right, and that’s a really big deal for me.
Here’s the other thing… exercise. I hate it, and I’ve been a failure at it my whole life. I quit any kind of exercise routine, no matter how small, after a week – if that. I’ve been through significant weight loss twice before, and I’ve always done it pretty much through diet only. Thanks to that, even at my thinnest (and I really was thin, I promise), I was still flabby. I knew that I needed to exercise, but I could never stay with it because it just sucks. Even the guilt of paying for a gym membership didn’t do it for me.
I know a handful of people who run, and they all seem to honestly love it, so I have said repeatedly that I’d like to give it a try. Maybe there’s something there for me. After talking about it for awhile, I finally did it Sunday. I guess I’m being a little generous here. I spent more time walking than running. That shit is hard!
I used an app that had me do a five minute warm up, walk for a minute and a half, then run for a minute, repeating the process for 20 minutes. Or maybe it was 30. If it happens before my morning coffee, it’s fuzzy. For the first two cycles of running I did alright, but I had to cut them to 30 seconds after that because I was so out of breath. I feel like a little bit of a failure for that, but I guess I’m not as long as I don’t quit.
I came home, and felt like throwing up for a few minutes, but that went away thanks to the ginormo antacid supply that we got when I was pregnant. After that I felt great. I kept asking J.R. all day why my legs weren’t sore. Should’ve kept my mouth shut. Starting Sunday night they began to hurt, and it got worse from there – so much so that I chose to take a brisk walk this morning instead of running. I’m bummed that I didn’t get to try running again, but from what I’ve read about DOMS, I will probably be good to go Thursday morning.
It looks like I have a long way to go – I don’t even know how long it will be before I’m capable of running five solid minutes – but I’m committed to it now, if for no other reason than the fact that I’ve told people as much.