This has been a tough couple of days. In case you didn't notice (but you did; you check every day for updates, don't you?), I didn't log my weigh-in yesterday. Why? I stayed the same.
Where's the shame in that? There really isn't any. But for about 36 hours, I let it totally psych me out. I let it feel like failure. And yet ... I kept pushing forward. I went to the gym last night, and I had the greatest hour I have ever had on an elliptical machine. I hadn't realized that, lately, those workouts have just been me, going through the motions. Last night, instead, I pushed myself. I concentrated on moving those damn pedals around, particularly using the muscles of my left quad, hamstring and glute. Yep, this is the way to support my knee! When I finished, I was a sweaty, wobbly mess. I had proven something to myself: I'm not afraid of my limits. Nope. Not at all.
Then today, I got on the scale again. So hopeful! So foolish. No change still. For those of you playing the at-home version of our game, that puts me at 224 - still a far cry from the 290 I was at which I was tipping the scales when I first joined the gym. Still immense progress. Still 16 pounds less than I was on August 24, the day I got back on the wagon.
Today was a rough day at work, so when I got finished, I really didn't want to take a run. I was tired. I was crabby. I was ... Maggie. But I did it. I got on my gear and I headed out. Just a half hour, I asked of myself. Three minutes at a walk, two at a run, for half an hour, with five of walking tacked on to the end. I can handle that.
And ya know what? I so could handle that! It was as if, all of a sudden, I could run those two minutes without thinking I wasn't going to make it. I am improving. I have a long way to go, but dammit, I am making changes. I am no longer content to sit when I could be in motion. Oh, let me amend that: I am no longer content just to sit. I like to move, to. And I like running! I like being able to do it. I don't like that I'm slow, I don't like that when the two minutes are up I'm breathing like a serial killer, and I don't like that I'm running roughly a 16.5 minute mile, but hey ... that's way faster than I move when I'm sitting still.
As I neared home at the end of tonight's run, I lived a scene that felt like it was right out of a movie. I was approaching a group of young kids - about 12 or 13 years old, I'm guessing. There were seven or eight of them, on bikes and skateboards, hanging out around the sidewalk. I figured they'd either ignore me, or make jokes at my expense as I passed. (Yes, I do always expect the worst.) Anyway, as I was in the midst of their little group, one of them put his hand up and said, "hi-five!" and so I hi-fived him. He looked at me and said, "I love you!" and I responded, "Love you, too!"
Pure. Simple. Validation. He has no idea that his gesture bolstered me the entire way home. A little bit of support from an unlikely source; how sweet is that?
So here goes: virtual hi-five, from me to you. I love you!