I find myself in an interesting place mentally. It wasn't long ago when the scale was causing me FITS. And then I got up today and the scale read 121.1 and I was almost....indifferent. Throughout my journey Sunday has always been my lowest weight day and this is way high - by like 4 pounds. But - to make excuses - I've found that since my mileage is increasing on my runs I have to eat a lot on Saturdays to run Sunday morning or I totally crash.
Last night a woman on the weight loss site linked to this article:
It is an article about a woman who lost a lot of weight but is - to quote her - "living in a crazy making food prison". My first thought was how sorry I felt for her. And then I realized that she is singing MY SONG! There was also a certain relief in the fact that I am not the only one living in this mental Crazytown. But in someone else, I could see how NUTS this type of thinking is.
In the article they talk about a study done by the University of North Carolina. They found that a mere 12% of middle age women are satisfied with their bodies. And for those women who have lost a lot of weight?
“You find these people are incredibly vigilant about maintaining their weight...Years later they are paying attention to every calorie, spending an hour a day on exercise. They never don’t think about their weight.”
UG!!! Seriously? I had high hopes that after some time in maintenance this unhealthy fixation would dramatically fade. But this study indicates YEARS later the obsession continues.
So the indifference to seeing 121.1 on the scale this morning? I'm going to go ahead and call that a very good thing.
I had Marc take a picture of my abs the other night.
Yeah, the stretch marks are gross. But I can ALMOST see a 2 pack there! Do you think when I started this journey I was thinking about ABS showing? Fuck no! I was thinking about weighing less then 300 fucking pounds. I was thinking I would be the happiest goddamn person on EARTH if I ever weighed less then Marc!!!
So why isn't it good enough now?
I ran 17 miles this morning - 17 MOTHERFUCKING MILES STRAIGHT! In LESS THAN 2 HOURS AND 30 MINUTES. At 41 YEARS OLD. At age 17 I couldn't run 1 mile straight.
So today I will celebrate my accomplishments and not the scale number. Just for today.