Monday, November 11, 2019
So I stopped working out in August 2018. I've not stepped foot in a gym (which I pay for, monthly), I've eaten garbage day after day, and naturally I gained back all of the weight I'd lost a few years ago. I'm annoyed with myself. It's not like I didn't know the outcome. I get cause and effect. I know working out is important and that pints of ice cream aren't meant for one person. And yet, I did it anyway. I stopped going to the other, small gym that I went to religiously for years. At first, it was because the hours changed (I'm sorry, but there's no way in hot hell I'm waking up to get to the gym at 6 to turn around, get dressed [all sweaty: there's no shower at this particular gym] and go to work an hour early), but then it was because I'd worked SO hard for so many sweaty days and months and years that my all or nothing personality came screaming back.
I'm either all in or all out. I don't deal in half measures. Ridiculous, but it's me. My fitbit broke, I didn't even bother to replace it. Eating the bread was easier than not eating the bread. Staying home was easier than putting on sneakers. I'm almost 50 years old, why am I like this?!?
Anyway, every journey starts with a single step--even if it's a familiar journey--and tonight I'll take it. I assume (perhaps optimistically) that I won't keel over, but I've gotta say, simple tasks aren't simple. Climbing stairs? BAD. So--keep your fingers crossed for stupid ol' me.