I guess you could say I had enough.
Enough of just slacking off and not giving a damn.
So last night my kitchen looked like the set of Food Network.
All 4 burners had food cooking on them. I made broccoli for a week. I beat the hell out chicken breasts until they were flat as a pancake and cooked enough of those for the week. I cut up real potatoes and cooked them in olive oil. The other burner was making scrambled eggs with ham.
The apples, oranges and grapes were also lovingly packed for the week. Tiny cans of Mt. Dew to begin my weaning off of the crack.
And the 8 lb party size bag of M&Ms. Wait. What? Oh yes – did I mention I asked Rambo to buy me one “bag” of M&Ms and he literally brought home the party size which is something like 8 lbs or some damn thing. Juh-esus.
I ran and walked on the treadmill for 45 minutes and worked up a sweat. I tanned for a bit afterwards.
I drank shitloads of water and stayed away from the candy drawer at work.
In short, I got back to giving a damn. I mean beyond the blood pressure and migraines and the fact that I’m getting old…well…I just want to be skinny.
There. I said it. I want to “look good in a paper sack”. Actually I just want to be lean and trim. I want my runner’s body back. I want my runner’s high. I want to sweat so much I have to have a towel on my treadmill to keep it from running in my eyes.
I’d like the tummy tuck scar I have to match the body around it. I’d like cottage cheese to remain in a bowl and not on my thighs. I’d like to not drown in Skittle baths.
I want to figure out if I truly have a fitness goal like a marathon or if those are just words I like to throw around. I’d like to look like the women I saw on CrossFit this weekend.
I want to be a health warrior again.
There’s no reason I can’t be. I give 100% to multiple jobs, multiple kids, multiple events and multiple husbands. Oh wait. That last one was wrong. I only have one Rambo. My bad.
I schedule taking vitamins down to when I can pee down to when I can breathe, eat and sleep. I shall schedule fitness. There’s no reasonable excuse or reason on Earth not to do this for myself and my family.
I used to run 5 miles a day every day. Used to. Man, I despise those two words.
I get dressed every day. I wake up every day. I get myself to work every day. I manage to do a million things every single day. Why has my little brain not managed to work one more thing in? One more thing that is perhaps in the top 10 most beneficial, important things in my day?
I guess I don’t know why. I guess I go in upswings and downswings where my mental and physical health matter more or less to me. If I’d just learn to stay constant, the struggle would turn into a habit and we wouldn’t have to talk about this.
While I realize there are a bazillion more important things in life than how I feel and look each day….it sure seems important every damn morning when nothing fits and I can’t find anything to wear and my mood instantly is set for the day. That’s just the truth.
It’s just time. I can feel it.
It’s time to get back to being the best me I can be. In every way.
I’m going to try to think of it like another job. It needs attention daily. I have to try to perform as if I was asking for a raise and being evaluated. I have to show proven results or they’ll be no career advancement. I have to show up – to my own life. Punch the time clock for my health. Reap the fringe benefits from being my body’s best employee.
I have to get back to little tricks that work for me. Like when I run – I pick someone I run for or with. I literally in my head say to whoever is on my mind at that moment or someone from my day – “come run with me”. Like today – the victims and families left behind from 9/11 are on my mind. Tonight….when I run…it’ll be for all of them who cannot.
Some nights I have run with loved ones I’ve lost. Some nights I’ve strictly run alone. But I find if I can “dedicate” my time and sweat and workout to or for someone…it feels even more worthwhile and makes me want to go harder. It feels like it was for more than just me.
Or workout chanting. Chanting a certain word or saying to the rhythm of my feet hitting the ground. And lists. Lots of lists of the eating plans for the day and week. Lists of why I’m doing this taped everywhere.
We all have our tricks that work for us. I know what mine are and it’s time I get back to using them.
I can’t explain why…I just know that it’s time.