Addiction & Subtraction

I know that it's been about two weeks since I last posted, so let me begin with an apology for the delay. Sorry, readers!

There are two moderately acceptable reasons for the gap between posts. The first is simply this: I have no time. I'm not sure if I've mentioned this, but lately I've been doubling up on gym classes. Don't sound the alarms or stage an intervention, I'm not doing any form of crash exercising/dieting (Potatoes 4Life). The plain truth of the matter is that I just love the classes. I can't even say that this is a sudden epiphany because the feeling has been growing for months now. I love my exercise classes and when I have to miss one I get very mopey about it. If I have to miss Zumba, I go from mopey to straight up pissed off. I'm trying to maintain a healthy (no pun intended) balance between my gym life and my social life but the lines are blurred at present. I was on the phone with my friend Sperry a few weeks ago and he, much like my other non-gym friends, asked me why I'm so busy. When I explained my workout schedule for the week his response was, "You're like addicted to working out now, aren't you?" I laughed this statement off. I am not that person. I'm the person that silently judges people who dare to say "Working out is addictive" out loud in my presence. I could wrap my mind around having a potato addiction, but exercising? Sore muscles, smelly tank tops, stretchy pants, and buckets of sweat? That's no addiction, that's a Jedi mind trick.

But then I thought about what Sperry said all week long and I came to the conclusion that he's absolutely right about me. I have officially crossed over from "It's only an hour. Just get through it and then it's over" to "Why do they only have one class on Sundays?!" Like all addictions, this one definitely has its downsides. For one thing, when I come home from the gym, my only goal is to acquire as much sleep as is humanly possible. It's not that I'm over-doing it in class; I work hard, but I'm a far cry from Chrissy intensity. It's more like my body finally accepted that I am no longer in sedentary blob mode; I need to rest and prepare for tomorrow's classes. After I've showered, I practically frolic to bed at 9PM with two ibuprofen in my system and totally reeking of Icy/Hot. Another downside of this addiction: I have very little time to do anything beyond eating, sleeping, showering, and working out. I have no idea how the moms in my classes manage to fit gym time in, but they're the true, unsung heroes. I am beholden to no one and I still struggle with scheduling classes into my life. Despite the few kinks in the system, I am almost unnaturally happy, like, all the time. I'm definitely sore and exhausted, but I am also supremely grateful to wake up every morning and have the opportunity to improve my health. If I am an addict, then I am glad that for once it's not because of food.

Onward to reason #2 for the delay in blog posting: I've been hoping that my next post would include "Happy 50th to me" in the title. Here's the mildly frustrating truth: I already have lost 50 lbs. I weighed in at about 252 when I was at the doctor's office about a year ago. This should be celebration enough, right? But what I really want is to see the number 1 as the first number on the scale. I haven't seen a 1 in that spot since I was sixteen years old. I know that I told you all not to obsess over the numbers on the scale because they don't define who you are; however, the moment I see that 1 will be, for me, like climbing over my first huge wall and knowing that there this is another side after all. I think that this is a moment that only my fellow bigger sisters/brothers can truly understand. All weight loss is equally awesome, but when you've known what it's like to have your weight begin with a 2 or a 3, you know how big a deal it is when that first number changes, too. It's an experience that is loaded with mixed emotions for me. You see, I've been (technically) obese for the majority of my life. Fat is who I am and what I know; it's a state of mind and body that is reflected in how I relate to other people, how I express my humor, and how I understand the world around me. Fat protects me on a physical and emotional level, as well; when I see that 1, I will be so happy and so scared for the person that awaits me on the healthier end of it. And yes, I'll even admit that a part of me wishes to stay Fat forever. But I can't keep using my weight as an emotional crutch for the rest of my life. So I'm going to wait for this, my first big moment, and keep moving forward.

My moment on the scale wasn't going to happen this week, though. When you're a woman, there's this whole fantastic week each month where you'll crave sweet potato fries non-stop, diligently avoid them whilst working out religiously, and still gain 3 lbs. I thought that because I was only 1 lb away, I'd be able to catch a break this time the ol' cycle came around. Fat chance. Literally. I gained. Clearly, the fruit of my womb was watermelons this month...

Today's post will have to suffice until I muster up the courage to weigh in again, post-watermelon. I'm sorry to end this one all cliff-hangery, but that's kind of how this process goes. I'd love to have my pounds come off in nice, quick, predictable increments but that's just not gonna happen and I'm not about to start sugarcoatin'

 Oh yeah, Reason #3 for the delay: I ran my second 5K last weekend. My buddy Brian Cowan ran the whole thing with me and it was pretty awesome. I decided to celebrate by not running at all this week (extra classes instead)!