Fitness Plan Day 1

So I made a mistake. I stopped going to weight watchers. I gained 3 pounds, and freaked out. I'm a lifetime member, so it's actually not that big of a deal, but I flipped. I was so ashamed. I kept rewinding, reliving all the summer diets I've succeeded at and then monumentally failed at months later. I kept thinking, NOT THIS TIME. This time I actually look different. This time my face is narrow, my stomach is toned, this time it's not the result of some three-month crash. I was so afraid to fail that that's exactly what I did.

It's ridiculous, actually, how easily we slip back into our bad habits. Suddenly I was looking for the Next Big Thing, the One Big Cure. I spent hours getting my hands on the Insanity workout, all 15 dvds worth, and I even started it, but I couldn't maintain it. I drank too much. I ate too much. I forgot to eat for 3 days at a time. One time I even ate a donut. I know. There aren't words for the horror of that choice.

Today I went back to boxing and I realized something: What the hell am I doing? The whole point of weight watchers, and boxing, and running, and yoga, and all that I've been doing is that it's NOT a "get your bikini body" specific plan with an end point. It's a lifestyle change, an effort to change your relationship with food and exercise. I got so caught up in worrying that I wasn't running enough miles, wasn't burning enough calories, wasn't building enough muscle, that I completely forgot that I F-ING LOVE RUNNING. I do. I love it. I love it with a fiery, creepy, obsessive passion. I'm sick, really. My running jacket is warmer and more expensive than any regular coat I own. My sneakers cost 140 dollars. My Franco Sarto boots cost 100. I'm that girl that listens to "going the distance" at least once a week and screams when Springsteen comes on the radio. Somehow, I forgot that.

Part of it was getting sick. Basically, I had a copycat of walking pneumonia. For weeks I had a fever. For weeks everything hurt. But I couldn't do anything about it so I went about my business, which made it worse. I'm still recovering. I can barely run for 2 hours without dying. Boston will definitely have to wait.

I'm so mad at myself. To think I actually paused in the diet pill aisle. I know how to eat well. I guess I just thought at some point it would get easy, at some point I wouldn't have to try as hard. I guess that will never happen. I wish it weren't true, but if I'm honest, I know that I'll always be someone who struggles with eating. I will never be able to NOT track what I eat.

So I made a plan: The plan is to cut the shit, and do what I already know works. Eat well most of the time, do exercise that I love, and not sweat the small stuff. I'm going to run more. I'm going to box more. But I'm doing it because I love it, not so I can look at the scale and marvel at how the numbers dropped (please... it's just water weight anyway after a 10-mile run).

Today, I suppose, started the plan.
HIGHLIGHTS:

1. boxed. love hitting things. 
2. ate 1.5 munchkins because I didn't want to dedicate 4 whole points. spit one out in the trashcan in my office. student saw. no big. 
3. going running tomorrow when it's WARM!