I did something yesterday that I hadn't done since last spring. I stepped on a scale.
For some people, this is a daily occurance. In my case, it was an obssession. So, I tossed the scale and just lived. I let go of "rules." I ate better; I trained harder. And the result?
I gained ten pounds. TEN pounds.
As I stood there bundled in my winter gear but feeling completely naked and exposed, I stared at the number.
As I stood there bundled in my winter gear but feeling completely naked and exposed, I stared at the number.
Is this a mistake? Even if I removed three layers and took off my shoes, that wouldn't account for ten pounds.
And then I turned around and looked in the mirror. And I thought of all I have accomplished with those ten extra pounds. Strong marathon training. A 14 minute half marathon PR. A three minute 5K PR and a 4th place finish in my division, just three weeks post-swine flu. The energy to get through almost every day without a nap. The ability to cope better with my depression. An interest in quality food.
So what if my thighs and hips are a bit bigger and my old jeans are a little tight? I feel amazing. My husband thinks I'm hot. And best of all, I'm healthy.
And for the first time in my adult life, I didn't think "I need to lose ten pounds." I thought "wow, think of all I could've accomplished with those ten pounds years ago."
