Reflection

I weighed in at 246.6 this morning, which means that I have lost 14.0 pounds since this journey began in January. 14 pounds in 8 months.

Even though it coulda, woulda, shoulda been more, I'm very content with it. Do you know why? Because those 14 pounds, however slow they may have come off, however many times I gained and lost, those 14 pounds mean that at some point in my life, I changed what I was doing. I may have fallen back into old habits, gained some, and lost some again, but I changed.

I am capable of change.

I am capable.

Right now, I have several things working to my advantage in that department. One, I'm taking my Metformin as I should, which, aside from keeping my blood sugars in check, also has the pleasant side effect of curbing appetite. As long as I keep taking it, I notice that I am full faster and get that uncomfortable feeling where you just. can't. shove. any. more. food. in. a lot sooner. The medicine has also helped me notice and acknowledge that feeling of being full.

I have also had a stomach virus-y thing for about a week, so without sharing the gory details, lets just suffice it to say that food isn't hanging around for very long in my system. I'm sure this has helped my weight loss along just a little bit this past week.

I am in one of those 'take it as it comes' moods with life currently. I'm trying not to let my OCD tendencies take over. I'm trying not to obsess about dieting, my weight, what should have been and the monumental task of what needs to be. I'm pretty sure my crazy anniversary challenge was doomed to failure before it even began. It's not where I am or want to be with my weight-loss journey right now. Right now, I want to take it slow.

I felt/feel overwhelmed with big challenges. It's too much pressure. It's too much stress. Pressure and stress lead to "fuck it". At least with me. You may be one of those people who thrive under unattainable deadlines and lofty goals. More power to you, my friend. More power to you.

Right now, I'm throwing myself into the "Any Progress is Good Progress" category. I'm making an effort to watch my portions, with the help of Mr. Metformin. I'm going to start making an effort to hop on the treadmill for half an hour at least 4x a week. Just 1/2 an hour, at at least 3.1 mph. Any progress is good progress, and any movement is good movement. I don't have to kill myself. I don't have to wish I could die just so it would mean I could get off the treadmill.

The math works. Eat less calories, burn more calories, weight comes off. It's magic! (Okay, well it's not magic, and it's a really, really sloooooooooooooooow process, but I have faith in the result).

I may not have reached "gung-ho", but as long as I'm putting forth some effort, I'll get there eventually.

Oh, and 5k number 4 was this past Sunday. There aren't enough colorful phrases in the English language for me to express to you the suckiness that was the Cheetah Run. Hills. Steep hills. Repeatedly. And a stomach virus to boot.

I went. I did. That's good enough for me.