A few weeks ago, I realized that I was joining ranks with the seriously overweight. And, logic said to follow that up with diet and exercise.
Ok, it can’t be that hard. All I have to do is eat healthier and exercise daily.
2 weeks later and all I’ve managed to do was de-bloat from
drinking eating too much in Europe, which, surprisingly, was 5 pounds.
What was I doing wrong? This worked the first time.
Let’s rewind. I was fat my sophomore year of high school and built up to being so fat that I was out of breath from eating. It happens. Let’s move on from that embarrassing fact. Seriously, let it go. In the summer between my sophomore and junior year of high school, I lost 15 pounds just by eating only when I was hungry—not even eating healthily!
Also, I had weekly one-hour one-on-one badminton coaching sessions that worked me so hard that I puked. In addition to running 30 minutes every day.
(I’m starting abuse that cross-out function.)
Ok, maybe it wasn’t that easy to lose weight then either. But I swear, there are higher forces working against me this time.
I stay within my caloric limit
sometimes. I exercise like every other day.
I’m too fit, I told myself as I struggled to finish my first and last mile, I need some extra oomph to my workouts.
And in came Insanity. And then the whole-body soreness that followed the next day… from doing the fit test. For those of you who are unfamiliar with Insanity, the fit test is done every two weeks to track your progress. It’s only half the usual work out time.
I persevered for three days, through the soreness and through my mental wall. This is great! I thought, I’m probably shredding so much fat!
I gained a pound.
Whatever, it’s a pound of hard work. I probably lost like 2 inches from my waist.
Gained an inch.
On the fourth day, I used a Groupon for the boxing club near my house. And halfway through the one-hour session, while I felt like I was going to hurl or die, I remembered something:
I enjoy having my ass handed to me during hard workouts like these. Yes, sometimes I couldn’t go the necessary distance that they required, but I remembered that I liked the feeling that I was working hard. I love walking out of a difficult workout sore, knowing that I pushed myself as hard as I could. That next time would be better.
I remembered my true goal. It wasn’t weight-loss, although it may be a resulting side effect. It was being fit; being strong (emphasized by the hot pink boxing gloves and pink hand-wraps that adorned my hands).
It’s time to kick the scale to the curb.
Not the tape measure though—are you crazy? I need that.