Saturdapathy

It feels like a miracle that I got up and exercised today. But I'll be honest, my heart wasn't in it. Saturday feels like it should be a exercise free zone, it always seems to be a diet free zone too. But let's get real, Saturday is just a day. All the work I do during the week is minimized by the actions of the weekend. Now progress being our goal, it certainly wouldn't set me back to have a weekend free of exercise mindset. But one cannot adopt a whole life way of living by pretending the weekend doesn't count, because it does. If it was simply about weight loss maybe, but it's clear that my mind is the most important part of this equation. Food is not bad, it's the way I use it that gets me in trouble. I must be mindful, even if I'm having fun. Life is full of delicious foods I CAN have. The problem comes in when the food is a wholesale tool to erase, to create a numbing of obsession, of fear, of sadness. Food should be enjoyed, but with my whole self, not just the part that craves solace. And it should be able to be put away without a sense of fear or dread or obsession. Three bites of cheesecake is enough to affect a sensory delight, and enjoyment. Eating a whole slice and not even really tasting the last half is a sign that my brain is engaged by only the part that is full of irrational panic. I have this dream in my mind that if I work hard enough or if I lose all the weight that this will just disappear and food and I will have a healthy relationship. My frown is deepening with the truth that I will always have this. I will always have to work to be mindful, to understand that at any moment irrational synapses can take over. I have to plan, I have to think, I have to negotiate, I have to know that even through it all, it is not a sign that I am any of the bad names I want to call myself. I have not given in, I am strong, I fight to find peace in health. My weight does not define me, nor does this addiction. This post started out as one about apathy. I'm happy to know I'm obviously not ready for apathy yet.

You'll get there girl.

I have seem to have acquired a new habit of finding some mental phrase or question to help me make it through my workout. Whether it comes from a positive or negative place there always seems to be something to hang onto. Today I wondered how I would ever keep going after having to stop for the fourth time. I seem to have no patience for results and I was down about how I don't seem to be getting any better. If I approached it rationally I would have noticed a little better technique and a slightly marginally better recovery time. But all I saw was how much of the video I have to sit down through. As I contemplated calling it quits, I heard "you'll get there, girl." The tone was grandmotherly and full of the understanding of the benefits of time. While the thought of how long this will take makes me weary I know that the only way to is through. The time will pass with or without me. The effect of exercise on my body is mostly up to me. Science is on my side. Move more, eat less. I'll get there... eventually.

There is always a reason not to

As I slogged through another day of my workout video and had to stop to catch my breath, I heard the voice "you've done 30 minutes, that's all you really have to do, you don't have to finish it." And I was about ready to listen to the voice and then I heard a different voice, " you will always find a way to talk yourself out of doing something." This, although I've always known it, was a shock. It really hit me that there will always be excuses. While there may be in fact some amazing day when I can't wait to exercise, the reality is that there are hundreds of days ahead where I will have to stick to it instead of waiting for it to stick to me. I will want to quit, a lot. And truth be told, I could most definitely come up with a million good sounding reasons to stop. I also realize that while it takes only one good reason to not exercise, maybe all it takes is one good reason to exercise. So today, when I was ready, I got back up and went to the finish.

The mirror

I have been reading an interesting book about a woman who decided to go without looking in the mirror for a year. Now the book has been mildly interesting but it brings up a multitude of questions about appearance, yada yada yada. One quote from the book really struck a chord with me today. I am paraphrasing but it went something like "take the sign from your forehead that says 'I want you to like me' and place it where it belongs squarely on the mirror"

Hmmm.... As I was working through the exercise video again, I asked myself "If I never lose this weight would I be able to be happy with myself, would I be able to love myself?" The answer rang back a solid "NO." I don't know what this means but it troubled me but in many ways didn't surprise me. If some way I could be healthy, and feel great, but still be fat, would I work this hard. Should I not be worried by the fact that I want to feel beautiful, sexy, etc. more than healthy? Or is it just a part of the equation. I want to be healthy, I want to feel better, but is my most motivating factor what I see in the mirror? Is there a balance, is there a better way?

Pizza is a "mean girl"

So Pizza will tell you all sorts of lies to get you on her side. You know you wanna get with that "in" crowd. She looks good, smells good, she's someone you feel you really want to know. But once she's assimilated you, she will never do you right.

Pizza and exercise do not mix. I have always known this intellectually but we've never really put the two up against each other. Yes, I had pizza. Pizza. Pizza. And Pizza. But I decided that I would never quit no matter how messy things get. I'm in this for the good and bad. So, I put my foot down and put on that exercise video. I knew pizza would win the round. Exercise will not erase what I put in my body today. But I was not ready for the brick in my stomach. Pizza tried to put me down. I feel totally gross. Pizza is a "mean girl." She trash talked my stomach for the full 45 minutes. She can be a real bitch.

I don't know if this nutrition blight will take me down. My body will do what it must and I can't take back the pizza. But after years of struggle, I did something I've never done before. I did not decide to start over tomorrow. I didn't listen when pizza told me I'm not good enough and I should just give up. I don't know what this means, but it's a nice development.