Small, cold steps

After 2 days of sleeping through my early morning alarms, I actually dragged my ass out of bed this morning at 3:15 for my first trip to the gym.  It sounds like insanity, and it probably is, but I have an hour long commute to work, and this is the only time of day I can make a go of it.

I had forgotten just how much my body protests when I get on a treadmill for my warm up.  My hips aren't happy about it, my knees are more vocal than usual, and my feet aren't a fan.  While I listen to them, I choose not to acknowledge this, knowing full well that within a few minutes, they'll shut up.  If they don't, I really start listening to them to see if something is really wrong.  Nothing is ever wrong, really.  It's just an overweight, tired body.

So, that's one day down.  Another 350 days to go.  I'm anxious to see results, so much so that I might just take my measurements tonight to track my progress.  Ah, the exciting life I lead in this snowy little town.

XO
LB

The Suspense.

This is probably the first time in my life when I wanted Monday to hurry up and get here.  I can pretty much guarantee that it will never happen again.

I didn't get to weigh in last week because the meeting was shut due to a stat holiday.  Tried to weigh in while in the city (where I work) the next day, but the centre was shut despite its advertised business hours.  That frustrated me to say the least, I don't enjoy fighting shitty rush hour traffic for no reason.

Tomorrow, being Monday, good stuff happens.  I get to stand on a scale and get a progress report  AND I have my first meeting with the personal trainer at the gym.  That sounds far fancier than it really is, it was a bonus for signing up, two free sessions with the trainer.  She will tell me what to do and how to do it without killing myself on the machines.  Good sense, in my mind.

Then, come Tuesday, the insanity of a 3 a.m. start to my day...TO GO TO THE GYM.  Lordy lightnin', what am I doing?  Quick answer:  what needs to be done.

I have a plan, but most of all, I have hope.  That and the ability to find my running shoes is all I need right now.

XO
LB

In which it became....on.

I've gone and done it now.  I joined that gym.  Still feeling kind of "eeennhh" about it, but it's done.  I went for my scheduled tour after fighting the urge to email the dude and let rip with any number of completely feasible excuses, talked to the dude, found out the monthly price and it was a done deal. After some additional paperwork, I will have my access thinger and the workouts will commence while all sane people are sleeping.

As bleah as I feel about it, I know that it has to happen.  This body is too big.  This body is too broken.  My mind feels like it`s following suit.  Something has to change.  And it will.

I really hope that this plays to my love of structure and routine.  Getting up that early is going to be a fucking drag, but it just won`t get done if I leave it until after work.  When this girl gets home, she is HOME.  I shall not be moved, and I`ll be good and goddamned if I`m getting on a treadmill at that point.

So, here goes nothing. Wish me luck.

XO
LB

New-ish Words on an Old Page

Ugh, gross.  I so don't want to start this off with the old "holy shit, it's been sooooo long since I've been here!", but, here I am.  Holy shit, it's been soooooo long since i've been here.

Blogger is telling me that I haven't posted since August 2012.  Whoa. A lot has changed since then, but one thing has stayed the same.  Steadfast and true, no fucking surprise, the lard remains.  

During my blog hiatus, I made the biggest and best change of my life:  I moved away.  Now, I realize that the definition of the term "away" varies wildly from person to person, but since I spent the first 38 years of my life in the same city, moving an hour and a half north to a small farming town was a big change.  It was the best decision I have ever made, as I love it here.  Living with my super awesome boyfriend, commuting to a MUCH better job in a nearby city.

But with all of this happiness, the old lard is still with me, and I have finally reached a breaking point with it.  It needs to go (stop me if you've heard that one before), and this time, I am going to put all of my energy into booting it to the curb.

Although this town is small, there is a meeting.  A meeting with a scale, a leader, and literature.  My beloved WW.   I started back a couple of weeks ago, and I'm loving it.  Tracking, eating, planning, it's all there and I'm getting right back in the groove.  The first weigh-in was encouraging, and now I just gotta keep going.  I know I can do it, I just need to kick my own ass on a regular basis.

So, here comes the next dilemma.  Exercise.  I need to do something to help my poor, embattled body. My arthritis is getting insane, and my knees are forgiving me less each day.  Winter sucks, and let me tell you, where I am it is super winter.  Snowbanks so high that you can't see across the street.  Walking does not appeal at all, and to be totally honest, I find it so completely boring that the very thought of it makes me cringe.  I simply do not know how my dad does it so religiously.

It's a stat holiday here today, so I'm bored and trying to figure out if I should roll on over to the 24 hour gym to see what's up with them.  There are 2 gym options here in town, but the 24 hour one is the only one that would really suit my needs.  Oh, I don't know.  Indecision, I hate it so.  In my mind, I'm trying to figure out what my schedule would be, and this gym idea would mean getting up at around 4 a.m., working out for an hour, coming home and getting ready for the hour long commute to work.  I'm not an evening worker-outer, never have been.  Once i'm home from my long day, I'm down for the count.  I started re-reading my old posts about my War Measures act and how I used to truck my ass down to the Y every morning to work out.  I know I can do it, but will I succeed this time around?

This should be an easy decision.  I should be over there by now.  It's the best possible course of action, but still there is hesitancy.  That hesitation makes me nervous.  It tells me that I don't have 100% faith in myself to get the job done.  I could reason it away to objectivity and the decision making process, but when it comes down to brass tacks: I am questioning my resolve, I am questioning my wherewithal, and I am questioning my determination.  Nothing new, but it makes me nervous, because that hesitation can so easily transition to failure.  I know it all too well.

But, on the other side of the coin, it can translate into motivation.  I don't particularly enjoy being told I can't do something. So, why is it that when it's my own voice denying me, I'm so willing to listen?  Hmmm...that's a good question.

Fuck it.  I'm getting dressed and going over.  If it sucks, I won't join.  If it doesn't suck (and it won't, come on), I'll join and get at it.  I need the insanity of what I want to embark upon.  I need to shock myself out of this complacency and the crushing depression that comes with it.  It's time to destroy my routine and rebuild myself.

Once again....here we go.

XO

LB

Update:  Rolled on over there and, despite no signage saying that the staffed hours wouldn't be valid today (it's a 24 hour, key fob access kinda place), no one was there to open the door and take my money.  Oh well, that just means more research and thinking for this girl today, I suppose.  Sigh.