I am not a fitness person. I have always run. Or played sports. Or walked. Or gone to the gym. But not because I loved it and had to be out there. I did it because I had to. Or because my friends were doing it and I knew I’d feel better when I was done. Or because I was playing a sport (which I do rather enjoy) and I needed to stay “on top of my game”, if you will.
Unfortunately for me, I’ve always been short and mostly small and with my infrequent, not so passionate working out, I’ve always been somewhat in shape and able to eat… whatever.
I say unfortunately because it tricked me. It tricked me into believing that the day would never come when I absolutely just could not get those pesky pounds and curves and pudge off of me.
Well. That day has come. And while it may not look like it to others, deep down under this big comfy t-shirt and sweatpants, I know where my body is in relation to where it was. And more importantly, I know where this body is in relation to where it could be.
And my sporadic exercising and occasional vegetarian diet isn’t gonna cut it anymore.
I thank my sisinlaw for the inspiration I needed to get my butt in gear. She showed up at the beach after a three month hiatus (she lives a few hours away) and seriously looked like she was in college again. Upon picking her brain, I learned that she had finally just decided that she was sick of looking in the mirror and not being happy. She had decided that no one else could make her eat right or make her exercise more or make her love her body any more. It was up to her. So she changed her lifestyle. Big time.
Oh, to have that kind of resolve.
To just wake up one day and decide that I’m going to eat better and work out more.
So I came home from the beach with no tan and a couple new vacation pounds and decided that I was gonna take some baby steps toward motivation.
Walking (building up to running) was one of them. If you read a few weeks ago, you know all about how that went. I’ve not been terribly consistent (big surprise), but at least I’m moving in the right direction! Pun intended.
Eating better was the other. And boy has that been interesting.
Because I love to eat.
I love to eat everything. Anything. I love trying new foods. I love sweets and chocolate and sugar. I love baking. I love cheese. I love Coca-Cola. I love coffee. Special coffee. With whipped cream and flavored syrup. I love cheese. I love salty snacks. Cheeseballs and such. I love stir fry. And sushi. And noodles. ANY kind of noodle. I love fruit and yogurt and honey and brown sugar and frosties and hamburgers and hot dogs. And cheese. Did I mention I love cheese?
So the thought of dieting was dreadful. I’d rather run an hour every day and eat crap than live on salads and grilled chicken. Ugh!
But my baby step with food came in the form of My Fitness Pal. Sisinlaw recommended it. I’d used it before, but not faithfully. So I reset my password. (because, of course, I had forgotten it). And started logging my food.
Ho. Ly. Cow.
Have you done this? Have you written down every fry and cheese ball and handful of cereal and chocolate bar that crossed your lips?
It’s been a humbling experience and it was a serious wake-up call to one of my very real issues.
I’m a fifteen-year old cross-country runner living in a thirty-two year old with a kid’s body. I can’t believe how much I munch… and munch and munch and munch. Mindless munching. On whatever I can get my hands on! And believe me. In our house, there is not a lot to munch on. But I have always found something!
Leftover Halloween candy. A third cup of coffee. Cheese.
So as I started trying to incorporate more vegetables, whole grains and water in my diet, I also started monitoring the portions of everything else I ate. It helped a lot that I was working four days a week. I could really control what I ate for each meal and I was keeping busy in between. What scares me is what will happen when I’m not working four days a week.
To illustrate my point. This is what my week looked like. I’m not sure what happened on the 7th. I ate more than that. I promise. But I can assure you. The 8th was a day I was at home. And didn’t wake up early to walk. And didn’t watch my portions! (these are net calories… they have automatically subtracted the calories I supposedly burned by walking, swimming, and living life)
So it’s been two weeks. I’ve done good at logging my food. I’ve done OK at walking. I have yet to get serious about toning and strengthening. And I’ve done pretty good at eating more real food. But is it a big enough change to make a difference?
Will I be able to continue to improve? Will I stay motivated? Will I get lazy? Will I fail? Will I keep making excuses for myself and continue feeling bad when I look in the mirror? Will I find my nitch? Something I love to do that I will be consistent with? Will my little girl grow up with a mommy who is happy with her body and taking practical steps to stay happy with it or will she grow up with a mommy who is always down on herself and worried about every problem?
Oh, to be fifteen again.