C25K, Plateaus and Boobs

Well, if I had actually decided to stick with the C25K program that I started back in April (see last post), I'd be a runner by now. But I didn't. So I'm not.

I have a hard time sticking with things. Like eating right. And working out. And this blog.

So I'm thinking about getting back to it. I may not consistently stick with things, but I will keep going back to things. Even the bad things. Like exes. And tequila.

Anyway.

I've been doing pretty well lately, even without being a runner. I have been faithfully logging my food at My Fitness Pal (I'm suemar74 if you decide to join...look me up). I've been working out about five days a week, on average. And I think I'm down ten pounds...now...after I suffered through a month long plateau where the scale didn't budge.

Plateaus suck. I'm pretty sure they're the Scale God's way of saying, "I'm bored. Let's f*** with someone."

Stupid Scale God.

But I got through it.

My goal was to be back to 150 (the weight I was when I quit smoking) on October 30th (my two year anniversary of quitting smoking). I'm not going to make it. But I'm going to be damn close, and damn close is good enough for me.

On Saturday, I'm going to do my Making Strides Against Breast Cancer walk in Crawfordsville. I love that walk. It's for a great cause and if you would like to donate (click here), I will love you forever. I'm still short on making my goal, but it feels good to know I'm helping even a little bit.

I have promised myself that someday I will do an actual run for Breast Cancer Awareness. Which brings me back to becoming a runner. And starting the Couch to 5K program.

Today. Maybe tomorrow. No...today.

(sigh) Soon. Very soon.



photo credit: lusi/sxc.hu

Finding Motivation

As I get older, I'm always losing things. I'm not sure if this has more to do with the fact that I can't remember where I put them, or the fact that I'm not the most organized female in the world. I'm not even the most organized female in my house, and the only other dose of estrogen there is the dog.

Anyway, the latest thing I seem to have lost is my motivation to eat right and work out. I was going good there for about a week, which is actually longer than I commit to most things. (My kids don't know how lucky they are.)

I lost three pounds within the first week. Then the weekend hit and by Monday I had not only gained those three pounds back, but I also added another to it.

Sonofa...

That's about the time I hit my "eff this" stage. I actually hit that stage quite a bit. I'm pretty sure they have a little plaque hanging in my honor at that stage.

Now I know, deep down inside, that the weight is probably that temperamental water weight that takes up residence every month, and maybe, just maybe (dare I hope?) it may also be a little bit of muscle thrown in too, because there for awhile I really was feeling the burn.

But in my irrational womanly, hormone-imbalanced brain, the scale called me fat. So I agreed and had hamburgers and tater tots with the boys. And didn't work out.

(I did restrain myself from scarfing down a milkshake because I knew there was no coming back from that ledge.)

I was all set to give in to the taunting of the big mean scale until I read a blog post by Lindsay Maddox where she dared her readers to stop making excuses. She dared me. So now I kinda sorta hafta stop making excuses. It's the rule of a dare.

But I'm not running, Lindsay! Do you hear me? You can't make me run! Although burning 1,000 calories sounds awesome. Do you know how much I could eat if I burned 1,000 calories...

Bahahaha!

So, since Miss Lindsay dared me to stop making excuses, I'm going to stop making excuses and find my motivation.

Maybe the dog knows where it is...



Photo Credit: julosstock/sxc.hu