I want to get in shape like crazy.
I want my figure back: I want my waist back, and I want my thighs back.
I want to be able to run without being in pain. I want there to be actual, strong muscles in my legs. I want to be able to wear a sleeveless dress without marveling at the girth of my arms.
I am so insanely frustrated, I could cry.
Image: Dawn via Flickr
Oh sure, I have been logging all my meals on myfitnesspal.com for a year. A year. I am the same weight I was last year. So I increased my workout load. I signed up for a half-marathon/quad-skate in 3 months to force me to do it every day. I have a workout plan that I adhere to.
I am doing it.
And yet, even after logging over 40 miles last month with appropriate days of rest, tracking my food, drinking enough water, and being militarily diligent about this… I am still the same weight.
I still can only muster about a mile and a half on the treadmill at a time, and I am sitting with elevated legs and waiting for the Advil to kick in.
40 miles, and I still can’t run the distance! 40 miles, and I have lost zero pounds. Even after replacing sandwiches with baby carrots and hummus; even after cutting out alcohol; even after “believing in myself,” I still can’t do it.
I am still going to run later when my legs don’t hurt. I will still run tomorrow.
I don’t believe anything will change this month either.
I do, however, believe it takes farther than 40 miles to run away from doubt.