Yesterday morning I hopped on the scale, and my wedding weight was staring back at me. It’s my happy weight- the weight where I feel full of confidence. It’s taken me all summer, but the ten pounds that the past two years of treatments and emotional eating have stacked on are gone.
And this time, this time, I swear I am not gaining them back unless I am growing a baby!
I know ten pounds isn’t a lot in the grand scheme of weightloss, but my thyroid and my PCOS make losing any weight a struggle, so I really did have to work at this. And I think a lot of fat has been converted into muscle, so I feel like the loss is more than the scale shows.
I feel lighter. It goes well with my new, lighter headspace and my rejection of emotional baggage.
I feel well.
I just need to hold onto that feeling when the merry-go-round starts up again in a couple of weeks.
I’m running the same half-marathon I ran last year. I’ve trained more consistently this summer (not having two sets of twws has helped considerably). I am fit. I am fast. The times of my runs actually startle me.
Physically, I think I have it in me to do a very good time. It’s the mental strength I wonder about. I don’t run to music- I run with Q. But he hurt his ankle a couple of weeks ago, and it still isn’t clear whether he’ll be right to run in the race with me. I’ve been doing my long runs on my own for the last little while, and discovering a new core of mental toughness that I didn’t think I had.
So we’ll see. I’m still undecided as to whether I should go out at a pace to hit this possible super time, or whether I should be a bit conservative at the start to assess how I feel. I’ve got a 10k race pace run the week before, so I’ll see how that goes.
In the meantime, I’m reveling in the fact that I got a whole summer to run whenever and wherever I wanted- no doctors telling me not to.
When I look at myself in the mirror, I’m surprised by what I see. It’s amazing how your body will respond when you’re a) allowed to exercise, b) no longer on huge quantities of drugs and c) no longer indulging in far too much emotional eating.
I feel like me again. And I need to find a way to hang on to that when I’m in the middle of treatments. Because I’m sick of the yo-yo.
Today I booked our tickets home for Thanksgiving, and it made me stop and think. Two Thanksgivings ago, Q. and I were on the train back to our apartment in our big city, all still new to us. Our overhead lights weren’t working, so we couldn’t read. We spent the whole ride talking instead. That’s when we decided to have a baby.
Two years ago.
But that’s my new reality. And it doesn’t bother me the way it used to.
Does anyone else find it impossibly weird to have to take birth control pills leading up to a cycle? I laugh every time I pop out a pill.