Monday. Weigh-in day. I just never know what to expect anymore. I have days (sometimes two or three strung together) when I'm able to really watch what I eat and I exercise beautifully, and then I'll get on the scale and BAM ... gain. This week, I did well with the workouts (ran quite a bit, lifted weights, felt great) and it showed up a little on the scale.
But here's the thing: I also succumbed to such things as butternut squash gnocchi, beer, gyros and french fries. How is that possible?
I think this new world - I call it Menopause Land - is much less of a perfect equation of energy in + energy out = weight lost or gained. It's trickier now. It's a friggin' crapshoot, but this week at least it worked in my favor.
This week brings the final week of training for the Hot Chocolate 15K. On Saturday's training run, I had a nasty calf knot (for the first time in quite a while) and had to cut the run short. The cool thing is, it doesn't bother me. I'm pretty sure I can get through 9.3 next Sunday, so I'm just rolling with it. I've done what I can, and I'm just gonna power through now. I mean ... I run nine miles, I eat chocolate, I go to breakfast. How could that be bad?