Okay, so the battery needs
replaced in the scale. This will need to happen before next week since Monday
is the beginning of the end – the final weigh-in week!
To say that the last month has
been unproductive is a major understatement. I’ve started eating more, drinking
more pop and exercising once a week (if that). I haven’t (seriously) weighed
myself in a few weeks and, well, I’ve lost steam. Did you notice there haven’t
been as many shirtless photos lately? My winter body and it’s layer of chub has
decided to stick around for another month or so and it’s just embarrassing at
this point. Like March, I went into this competition with the ferocity of a lion
and whimpered out like a lamb… or maybe a fat 30-year-old lion.
When the weather started getting
nice last week, I decided to take my fat lion ass out to the streets. “See you
later, treadmill!” I said as I headed out the door. Yes, I really said it.
I was a little shy about running
along the street at first because I knew there would be a bunch of people
looking at me as they drove by. (I know this because I do this when I drive.)
But the nervousness washed away into the gutter as I tried to run uphill. Yes,
run up a hill. It wasn’t long before I was walking uphill.
And I discovered something while
I was out and about: Running on concrete hurts like hell! Every time my feet
hit the pavement, it felt as though by bones were slowly starting to break
apart. My brain felt as though it was bouncing and sloshing in my skull. It was
torture.
I ran (but mostly walked) from
Asbury Heights to St. Clair Hospital. I thought about going into the hospital
for treatment, but I just sat on a bench near the entrance for about five
minutes. I am weak.
But I did some more running on
the way back, so I wasn’t totally beat. One of my coworkers (who runs in her
sleep) ran passed me less than a quarter mile away from work. After she passed,
I did my best to keep up with her until we were back on the Asbury campus. She
had no idea I was behind her until we entered the campus. I startled her and
she said she thought I was a dog. I know I’m hairy, but I don’t think I have as
much hair as a dog. Maybe it was because she heard me panting.
“Let’s keep going,” she said as
we ran up the slight grade of the road leading to the main building. To make a
long story slightly shorter, I ran up the slight hill to the main building, but
I walked the rest of the way once I reached the level. I was pure deadness.
There’s one more week. Should I
give it my best shot? I’m not sure, but I am sure of one thing: Trying to get
fit (and lose your tubby tummy) is tough. I really didn’t have a lot to lose
and it was STILL hard for me. I can’t imagine how difficult it is for someone
completely out of shape. Damn.
Next post: My final Choose 2 Lose weight and the future
of my fat.
