For over a year (and then some), I've talked off and on about getting back into shape. But you know how it goes...if I could've lost a pound for every time I did nothing more than talk about it, I'd be one awesome looking chica right about now.
So, I've talked about it. Once in a while, I've even made a few attempts at getting back into the habit of exercising. But I've let too many obstacles and excuses stop me from doing what I know I need to do. And today, I almost gave in again.
The new Pilates DVD I just bought doesn't work.
My left arm is still recovering and hurts if I move it the wrong way.
It's late in the afternoon and I should be doing (fill in whatever household chore here).
I really just want to take a break and sit on the computer for a few minutes.
And as I sat here staring at my computer, I saw my friend Heather on Twitter, and remembered the post she wrote about managing weight-loss challenges. Then I thought about my friend Angela...she's gone from 190 to 165, on her way down to 135, and is wearing a size 12 now. When was the last time I wore a 12?!?
And then, I thought about my dad.
All my life, Dad's been a "big" guy. As far as I know, he's spent most of his adult life in the 300+ pound range. He was diagnosed with hypertension when I was in grade school, and so began the long, downward spiral of his health. One prescription led to another, one diagnosis led to another and now he's fighting for his life, being treated by more doctors and taking more pills than I could ever be able to keep track of. All at the age of sixty-nine.
I thought about members of my extended family I saw while in Kansas City, and how they talked of the various ailments they have and the medications they now take.
And I thought about this picture of myself.
I hate it. I hate what I've done to myself. I hate the way my thighs rub together, having a belly that jiggles like Santa Claus, wearing plus-size clothes and looking horrible in them.
More than that, I can see where this un-healthy lifestyle is headed. I'm tired all the time. And that scares me to the core.
So I got up out of my chair, left the excuses, the obstacles and the lies I've been telling myself at the door and hit the road. I walked and jogged 1.2 miles from my house to the bottom of the road and back again. It was hard, I was gasping for air long before I got back, my behind still aches and I definitely need better shoes. But I'm going to do it again tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that.
I'm saying goodbye now to the excuses, goodbye to the lies and the lazy habits, and goodbye to my extra weight. Because I don't want to say goodbye to my kids when I'm only sixty-nine.