Small Accomplishments

I am changing as I get older. I am still regimented and scheduled, but I am realizing life is too short to be so legalistic. I am liking my new found approach to things. I feel more relaxed. I have slown down (although not as much as I need to.) And along the way, I am making baby steps to the bigger, long-term goals I have set.

This morning, I hit the five pound mark. I have yo-yo dieted for over 4 years. I never struggled really with weight until after I had Dawson. I don't know if it was a hormone disaster because his pregnancy was complicated or what, but man has the weight liked my butt ever since. Three and a half years ago, I weighed 30 pounds less than I did at the first of this year. I am not talking about what I weighed when I got married 10 years ago, I am talking three years ago. Before Dawson was diagnosed, before the long days of therapy, before the medic school, before my hysterectomy, before the many life changes that have taken place. All of which, I have eaten myself through.

So this time I have approached it differently. If I am craving something, I will eat it. Not the entire batch of brownies (although there was one day when I was upset and polished off a bag of chips with dip) but just enough to satisfy the craving. I notice a difference in how fast I get full. And finally today I lost five pounds. It's not a ton, it's definitely not 30, but it's something and that makes me happy.

I also am halfway to crossing a goal off my list. For some reason, probably because I am horribly out of shape, I have always wanted to be able to run. I drive down the street and see people running and I always am envious. I wished I liked to exercise. I wish my legs didn't turn to jello when I tried to run and my chest feel like a 400 pound man was sitting on it because I am so out of breath, I can't breathe.

When I started watching my diet a little better, I also decided to bite off a little of the exercise thing. I got on my treadmill and ran a whole two minutes. Yes, I said two. And I thought I was going to die. I was purple. I was sweaty. I was pathetic. But I resolved to add 30 seconds to it each time I got on and today I actually ran 15 entire minutes without stopping. Or dying. And I was only pink, not purple. It wasn't a half marathon, but it was something. And most importantly I was proud of myself. That doesn't happen very often for me. But it happened today and today I am celebrating small accomplishments.