Tonight I am going to be running in weather that is supposed to hit 105 degrees. I honestly can't say I'm excited for this, but in a small kinda screwed up way, I kinda am. I am the worlds biggest whiner, crybaby and I'm full of excuses. When I'm faced with a task that seems so hard, so nasty and just downright nasty, I look for ways to avoid it. In this case, I almost have no way to avoid it. As a red shirt mentor, I've agreed to do this. I can't back out without feeling really horrible about myself. It's not worth it to miss, the price is much to great.
Now I just look for ways to do it. To make it easier, less painfully hot, and look forward to the afterglow, when I can look back and say ' omg. I did it.' and I can feel the glow of pride in knowing how hard it was, but I did my thing anyway.
What I'm struggling with more and more is my eating. I can't seem to get 'back' to where I was back in the spring. It's like I've gotten so far off track, I can't even find the damn track anymore. This scares me to pieces. I know I've gained roughly 20 lbs, but to be honest I've not been on a scale consistently enough to even know that. The last I checked it was I think 11 pounds up. My clothes still fit, some are snug, but they were anyway, with me constantly getting into new sizes and whatnot. Nothing fits like it used to, one way or another. So the clothing sizing is a difficult thing to measure.
I wish I could tell myself that I'm excercising enough to make up the difference in what I'm eating. Nope. Can't even say that. Bummer.
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