It’s my birthday today. Well, strictly speaking, it was my birthday yesterday, given that it’s almost one in the morning. And I just had a very strange moment in the bathroom (how freaky does that sound?). I was merrily cleaning my teeth when I looked down at my legs and feet and was struck for the millionth time how different I look. It was around this time last year that I was bracing myself to begin lighter life in a week or so. A year ago I was very fat, very unhappy about it, and desperate to change. I was also very scared about it. Now, I’ve been through what can only be described as a rollercoaster ride and yet I’m still feeling a bit awkward, a bit unusual, and not 100% certain about myself.
The ‘big diet’ is over. I’ve come so far since last year that I can’t quite sum it up in words. However, I’m still struggling. I’m still not totally comfortable with myself. I’m still in a situation where I’m setting myself strenuous (unrealistic?) goals in order to feel happy. Does this ever stop? Will I ever wake up and feel at peace and at ease with myself? In all honesty (and I’ve always tried to be honest in this blog) I don’t know. And that really bugs me!
On the running front, I’ve been told to ease up. My trainer spoke to a physiotherapist colleague of his, and she told him that I shouldn’t run more frequently than twice a week. She was worried about the damage that I might do to my joints and bones … fair comment, given that I’ve done pretty much zero exercise over the last thirty-odd years of my life. However, that feels like a setback for me. I’ve finally found something that I feel happy doing, and I’ve been told to put the brakes on. How bloody frustrating! And to add to the irritation, I know that they’re right. I ran home last Thursday and had to stop after only three miles because I felt exhausted. As I said in my last post, I had just begun to feel that I could actually be a successful runner, and yet on the next running outing I just couldn’t complete my target of getting home. Frustrated and angry I rang the Boy, and his immediate response was to tell me that running three miles was an achievement in itself and I shouldn’t beat myself up. Of course he was right, but that didn’t alter how I felt at the time. Grrrrr!
I went for a run this morning. Just once around the Common. I was in great spirits (birthdays do that to you) but I was very conscious that some of my impetus was missing. I need to brace myself again. I’ve come to learn over the past months that I need to consciously push myself forwards … the problem is that I’m not used to what I would call failure. It knocks me sideways. Having hated so many things about myself for so long, and then having overcome that hatred, it’s pretty bloody tough to face up to the fact that you might still be as flawed as you always were.
Am I being hard on myself? Probably! These are the kind of negative thoughts that would, in my past life, have made me take refuge in food (I guess). And that’s not the case.
Despite what this post may suggest, I’m embracing the beginning of my 37th year (not least because it has been hilarious to remind my parents that their first born ‘baby’ is now 36 years old). I have learnt more about myself in the last twelve months than I care to think about but, at the risk of speaking in cliches, I have to move onwards and upwards.
In terms of my diet, my trainer is going to give me a diet plan on Friday morning. Half of me is going to resist this vehemently, whereas the other half of me will be quietly relieved to think that (once again) my nutritional discipline is out of my hands. I’m interested to see what he suggests … I’ll share it with you all and you can judge for yourselves.
Here’s to the imminent end of January … it’s the month that everyone hates, isn’t it? Well, apart from us Aquarians 🙂 Good luck to all of you who’ve chosen the new year to make significant changes to your weight and your health. Take it from one who knows … you won’t regret it.