Monday, October 5, 2015

One More Step

September was a pretty terrible month for me. Looking at my calendar, reviewing the last month, I counted that I only went to the gym 8 days. EIGHT days out of 30. It's the least amount of days, during a month, that I put in gym time during the last 20 months of life. I keep telling you guys that I'm getting my ass in gear and it just hasn't happened fully. I'm incredibly excited to say goodbye to September and welcome the fall season. In order to be successful, you have to evaluate what’s going wrong. Here’s what I know about September: I was emotionally derailed by getting my heart broken, I was unmotivated to work out and was constantly exhausted, I turned to food to cope, and I just didn’t give a fuck (sorry, ma’). The scary part about all of this is that my old habits crept back in because I let them. I never expected something to hit me so hard that it got in the way of my goals. I’ve faced a lot of challenges on this weight-loss journey and I always found my way back on track. This time, it’s as if I don’t even know how to start the car to drive to the track. I can’t manage to get myself out of this rabbit hole that I created.

I want to sit here and question whether I’ve learned anything at all but the truth is I know what to do. There isn’t a magic formula; I know what I should eat and I know I need to work out but the issue lies in actually DOING IT. The reality, dear reader, is that I can’t seem to. And there it is, the word that I preach so much against. Can’t. The only four-letter word I try to stay away from. The word that got me to 291 pounds where I was obese and unhappy. The word that I let define any previous attempt at weight loss.

So I signed up for this 15K, right? My attempt to prove to myself that I CAN do anything I put my mind to. I made a calendar of how many miles I need to log each week and set out on Saturday to get 4 in. Not only was my average time over 12 minutes per mile but my entire body hurts. My knees hurt, my back hurts and my hip feels like it’s popped out of socket. Dramatic, I know. As I was running, and wanting to stop every other second, I was talking myself up. “You wanna throw up? Do it and move on. You want to give up and quit? You want to go back to being that girl who thinks she can’t do anything to help herself? Then why did you work your ass off for so long? Why are you sabotaging yourself with food? Your legs aren’t giving up, Sarah. Just take one more step. One more freaking step.” So I did and one step slowly turned into 4 miles. They weren’t my best, they were really, really hard but I did it. I don’t want to be the girl they have to drag over the finish line on November 21st. I want to be the girl sprinting toward the end. Only 7 weeks to go!

Trust me, I know life is hard. Food tastes so good, exercise sucks and it’s so much easier to not work so dang hard. But I don’t want to be that girl again, y’all. I refuse to be her. As my pants grow tighter by the day, I need to be reminded that no one is going to do this for me. No one is going to shake me awake at 4 a.m. No one is going to slap the pizza out of my hand. Trust me, I put an ad on Craigslist and no one is applying. I have to do it for myself and I have to stop trying to fill the empty holes in me with food. Or puppies—I also contemplated getting a new puppy. Jeans are coming back into wardrobe rotation and I want a smaller size. Let’s do this together, friends. Let’s be better together. 

Happy October!

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