I have rare moments of clarity and I had one today. When I have these moments it’s like the world comes into a sharp colorful focus. Combined with it is a sense of complete relaxation and peace. The problem is that these moments seem to be brief and fleeting. I can never hold on to this feeling and use it to power me into something productive.
I was doing a power yoga on my lunch hour today. It was a really hard one and I was actually breathing hard and pushing myself. I bent to launch myself into half-moon pose and as I got into position a whole bunch or sweat came pouring off my forehead and onto the mat. I held myself in position listening to the instructor talking as my body shook like it does when you are straining to hold onto a difficult pose and I decided that it hurt like hell but also felt great.
I realized that for a woman my age that my body is really strong and recognized how hard I have worked to get myself to where I am. I ended this past weekend - as usual - being so angry at myself for eating too much. I told myself that I must want to be fat again because I didn’t stay on plan, and this came with a barrage of self-loathing and recriminations.
But today, as I was in that yoga pose, I thought about what else I did this weekend. I took Archer on a nice 9 mile run. When we got back to the house, I put on Sisko’s tiny little collar and Archer and I cooled down as Sisko did his first 1 mile walk. That’s pretty awesome, right?
And then Monday we all went out to a park and did a short cold hike, and I loved exposing Sisko to his “first evers...”.
Maybe it's time to acknowledge that I will probably always have too much extra flab. I probably won’t run 8 minute miles again. I will always want to eat too much and have to monitor myself closer than I want to. My stomach won’t be completely flat and I won’t have the muscles I wish I did.
BUT - I can still run and bike and do things with my body that I never dreamed were possible. My life has a lot of positives to it that have nothing whatsoever to do with whether my clothes are a size 2 or a size 10. This minute I am okay with that. Because it’s pretty great. I don’t know that I’ll feel that way tomorrow, but I feel pretty clear headed about it now.
And I can’t help but wonder if not obsessing and hating myself and just be more accepting and less demanding will actually get me closer to my goals. I mean, that’s what happened the first time I lost weight - I got the fuck out of my own way and a miracle happened...
Is asking for another miracle really too much?
As a side note, here was the aftermath from the run and walk:
I was doing a power yoga on my lunch hour today. It was a really hard one and I was actually breathing hard and pushing myself. I bent to launch myself into half-moon pose and as I got into position a whole bunch or sweat came pouring off my forehead and onto the mat. I held myself in position listening to the instructor talking as my body shook like it does when you are straining to hold onto a difficult pose and I decided that it hurt like hell but also felt great.
I realized that for a woman my age that my body is really strong and recognized how hard I have worked to get myself to where I am. I ended this past weekend - as usual - being so angry at myself for eating too much. I told myself that I must want to be fat again because I didn’t stay on plan, and this came with a barrage of self-loathing and recriminations.
But today, as I was in that yoga pose, I thought about what else I did this weekend. I took Archer on a nice 9 mile run. When we got back to the house, I put on Sisko’s tiny little collar and Archer and I cooled down as Sisko did his first 1 mile walk. That’s pretty awesome, right?
And then Monday we all went out to a park and did a short cold hike, and I loved exposing Sisko to his “first evers...”.
Maybe it's time to acknowledge that I will probably always have too much extra flab. I probably won’t run 8 minute miles again. I will always want to eat too much and have to monitor myself closer than I want to. My stomach won’t be completely flat and I won’t have the muscles I wish I did.
BUT - I can still run and bike and do things with my body that I never dreamed were possible. My life has a lot of positives to it that have nothing whatsoever to do with whether my clothes are a size 2 or a size 10. This minute I am okay with that. Because it’s pretty great. I don’t know that I’ll feel that way tomorrow, but I feel pretty clear headed about it now.
And I can’t help but wonder if not obsessing and hating myself and just be more accepting and less demanding will actually get me closer to my goals. I mean, that’s what happened the first time I lost weight - I got the fuck out of my own way and a miracle happened...
Is asking for another miracle really too much?
As a side note, here was the aftermath from the run and walk:
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