Working it

I hurt all over. I love it. No I'm not a masochist, but I am reveling in what my body can do. I pushed it hard this weekend, especially after letting it revel in the cold weather blues following Thanksgiving.

I push the weights up and think about how they used to be 3 lbs and now they're 5 or 8. I run on the treadmill and push myself harder because I'm running, not walking all the time. Yes I get tired. Yes I take walk breaks. The point is I'm not afraid to push myself and get better. I'm not afraid of what I can do.

I want this weight gone. I want to be at a healthy weight and love it. I can do so much more at 180 than I could at 205, and I'm excited for what awaits me at 150. I know that healthy eating will be a part of my life forever. That's what I want.

I want to take pleasure in the nutrients I receive from an apple rather than a Ding Dong. The taste of carrots with a bit of hummus is always more satisfying to me than a snickers. Dark chocolate, you are still my friend and I love that we can hang out together, but I also love that you don't rule my life.

I'm working it. When I feel my abs stretch I know I'm working it. When I notice the slight pull in my calves and hamstrings, I take pride in the fact that I'm working it. I'm working it for me. For my future.