I’ve been following a new training regime for three weeks now. I’ve committed these legs to move up and down in a forward-moving motion for 14kms in November and somewhere in the middle of all the running (so much running) my bathroom scales stopped working.
I put off buying another set. I told myself I wouldn’t get them just yet – not until I knew I was closer to my magical number. The number that lies somewhere between the wedding weight and the breastfeeding diet that only worked with the first child.
I’ve been running distances I haven’t seen since five years ago. Distances I’ve never even met. It felt good. I bought some new scales.
I have not lost a damn thing.
I celebrated by eating a block of Cadbury Marvellous Creations* (I want the creation creator’s number – there might be heavy breathing involved).
I was supposed to run 8 kilometres yesterday and I barely made 3. I hated being inside my own head. I wanted a shotgun for the goddamn swooping birds and I had irrationally irritated thoughts about Michelle Bridges and people who take up the entire running track.
My husband pulled out the “muscle weighs more than fat” crap.
I spend a ridiculous amount of each day hating my weight. I want to be enlightened and not care but I’m not sure I know how to do that. Skinny jeans mock me from a drawer far, far away and platitudes for a body that created life then fed them don’t work. And now I’ve lost my running mojo too. And I’m not sure how to get it back.
* not sponsored
How do you get your exercising mojo back?