pitilessly Today I started something hard. Get your mind out of the gutter; this is not one of those posts. It was difficult, challenging, but I felt great afterwards, and feel it will be worthwhile, if I can get myself to continue.
This morning, I woke up at 6:30am, put on my sneakers, and got on my roommate’s treadmill. I tried the level two interval, walking and running for a total of thirty minutes. It hurt, but with my music playing, and me singing along, it was kinda fun, too.
I can’t point to the moment where I decided to start running in the morning. I can tell you about the positive influences in my life that make me want to run before work.
I live with two athletes. SkinnyBitch runs marathons; DeepEnd is a hardcore cyclist. I rode with DeepEnd on a fun ride up in my hometown recently. He, thankfully, stuck with my pace, and we had a great time. I love riding my bike, a lot, but it is too fucking cold outside, not to mention too fucking dark when I get home. So, the treadmill.
I must confess, I had hoped my roommates would have such a positive influence over me before I even walked into our home. I knew they were way more active than I am, though my job is physical in nature. I like doing heart-racing, breath-gasping things. It’s just you have to get me off the couch and moving for me to actual engage in physical fun.
And now that I’ve started bloviating on this one little topic, I now know when I decided to start running. It was two things, piled one on the other, that pushed me forward.
Recently SkinnyBitch, while in my car, breezily mentioned her dress size to me and how it was big enough. I know she meant big enough for her, but alas… If you put a one in front of her dress size, you would then know mine. I can say, for certain, I have not been her dress size since before high school.
The second moment, again from SkinnyBitch, was after dinner last night. Complimenting me on the meal I cooked, she unbuttoned her jeans, adding this was a problem. The bottoms in question were, in fact, her fat jeans.
When I look at her, I don’t see fat. I see, in fact, a skinny bitch. But that was enough to motivate me. Because if even she felt like more exercise needed to be added to her life, than I definitely needed to add some to mine.
I have no solid goals for this endeavor. No amount of weight loss, no waist line measurement will make me feel like I’ve grabbed the brass ring. It would be nice to fit into a certain dress I have hanging in my closet. And it would be nice to feel better, overall, about my health and fitness, this is one of the reasons I would like to get the best sarms for cutting. Most of all, it would be nice to go into a department store, and not worry if they still have anything in my size.
So, I’m trying this. Something new, though not really all that new. I’m a chic; I’ve tried regular exercise before. In my previous attempts, my efforts fizzled out because of work or fatigue. However, since I’m starting this at the height of busy season, when I really need to work everyday til I can’t work anymore, I no longer have my job as an excuse.
And, frankly, having my two roommates in the house is a motivator. Knowing they are training to be in tip-top shape for Spring, and that they know I’ve started running, is reason enough to keep me going.
Yes, I’m doing this for me, but in a way I want to do it for them, too. Because, though they’d never say it to me, if I crash and burn on this, it would feel like I’m letting the house down.
I mean, we’re all hot. How can I not contribute to the furthering of our hotness.
Categorised as: Big Girl
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