Well it’s been almost a year since I started my attempts at running and, well, I’m still at the same place I was a year ago. Although I must say, my couch appreciates my loyalty. I struggle. It’s my own fault really. I’m clumsy, un-motivated at times, accident prone, and I am the queen of procrastination. If I were to be in a “Bet You Can’t Complete That Task” competition I would so win! I took 1st place in not eating 6 meals a day, not following through with tracking my caloric intake, not monitoring what I eat, giving up totally when I felt sick (instead of going to the doctor) and quitting altogether. Yep, those were my arms flailing aimlessly into a mini-tyrant followed by foot stomping and pouty lips while whining, “Why can’t I lose 10 friggen pounds!”
Now, I am motivated and ready to go – more than I’ve ever been, but because I chose to hibernate rather than embrace the local gym, I’m back at square one – and worse off. In December I managed to give myself whiplash and a herniated disc and I’m still paying for that little stunt. I found out at a recent doctors visit that I’m deficient in Vitamin D (Hello! I live in Idaho!! There’s no sun here in the flippen winter!!) Which explains the serious fatigue I had been feeling. And then I realized through trial and tribulation that I am lactose intolerant. So, yes, half and half and cheese is not my friend. Fortunately for me, there is currently no shortage in powdered coffee creamer.
So it’s back to the drawing board. I’ll start over again and see what I’m able to accomplish. I really don’t have much of a choice, I can keep going on this path of self-destruction and eventually burst out of my non-skinny jeans; or I can start slow and work my way up to eventually feeling somewhat accomplished as a 30+ female. I have many family members and friends whom are entering half marathons, full marathons, boot camps and yoga sessions, and while all those things could potentially be a goal for me, I’m embarrassed to say that the only “a-thon” I’ll be contributing to this month is the “don’t fall on my ass a-thon”. I have to convince myself, daily, that I am not those people. I simply come from a non-athletic gene pool and I’m OK with that. However, I need to not be a quitter and focus on the bigger picture here – I’m too broke to buy bigger pants. So my choices have been laid out before me. Walk off the winter-goodies that have attached themselves to my thunderous thighs, or become a regular at the local Goodwill, trading in my not-so-skinny jeans for the less fashionable “I’m 33 going on 72 polyester was so last year” pants.
I’m opting for walking.