I have exactly one year to get fit by 40. I’m not assigning a weight to that or a size. I just want to feel and be “fit”. Only I will know what that means, and only my body will tell me what that means. I’m gonna go ahead and assume the jiggle will be gone or severely lessened. I will no longer be borderline diabetic. I will no longer be on blood pressure medication. I will not get out of breath going up and down the stairs in my house, and further more, I will not use my children as farriers to send things up and down the stairs.
I will shop wherever I like, I will not feel like my life is instantly over if a bear were to chase me. I will not see food as the reward for all things. Bread will not live in my veins.
These are just a few ideas off the top of my head.
Therapy has helped me put into words and say out loud that i’ve used my size as a barrier. Choices other people made when I was young will no longer hinder me from reaching my own potential. I will not use their bad choices as a reason to keep people away from me anymore.
I will still be an introvert, it’s where i’m happy, but my body will not be the barrier. Perhaps I will use a book or a steaming mug of coffee instead of a layer of pudge.
I will show my children that food is just that. It’s not an answer. It’s not “fun”. It’s not anything but fuel and sustenance and once in a while a reason to get together to share our lives. It’s not the reason we get together, it’s the background to the story.
This is my hope. I have a great trainer. A “normal” trainer …. well, as far as trainers go. Anyone who lifts their body weight and can outrun a cheetah is mental, but she’s a likable kook. She’s been on the path and she’s succeeded, so she’s a superhero to me.
I have working limbs. I am able to walk out my front door and walk my safe neighborhood for 25 minutes per day. I am not in a wheelchair. I am not on crutches. I have feet, so while i’m in control of them, I need to use them. I will not think about the bears that are in the area, or the bobcat that was spotted walking in front of our house. The coyotes that roam the yards will not stop me. … perhaps I will start taking the dogs with me for bait, though. …
This thing that i’m trying to do will only get more difficult the older I get. Waiting is not going to make it happen. Time will pass – God willing – either way, and i’d much rather at least be working toward a goal by the time I hit 40 than starting from the beginning.
Here’s hoping it sticks this time! Happy Birthday to me, and moooooooo(ve) !