A Revelation

Yeah, so, there was Easter and Easter candy, and then there was being on vacation and eating at tourist spots and being betrayed by my usually health-nut hostess who set out chips and salsa for us and made decadent desserts, and then there was an anniversary dinner with my husband which started with foie gras on hazelnut toast and did not get much healthier from there, so while official weigh-in isn't until tomorrow, I'm pretty sure I gained a solid 3 or 4 pounds over the last two weeks. I'm braced for it and trying to get back on the wagon.

It's a reminder that, however well I've done, the bad habits and attitudes that made me fat in the first place are still lurking just under the surface -- and that, like any proper monsters, feeding them makes them stronger. It's a lesson that I need to keep in mind

But that's not what this post is.

This post is because I really, really, really missed being able to go to the gym while I was on vacation. I was looking forward to it yesterday when I remembered I had a doctor's appointment that was likely to eat up my usual hour-ish of break time that I use for going to the gym. It was just a checkup, though, so I thought maybe if the doctor only took half an hour, I could squeeze the gym in anyway.

Alas, the doctor took over two hours, exceeding my break time rather excessively, and I did not get to the gym and having to burn an hour or so of vacation time while I was at it. I was a bit surly about it.

So I went today. And I dove in with all the enthusiasm of a starving man at an all-you-can-eat buffet, to make a really inappropriate simile. Sometimes I glance over the edge of my book at the countdown clock and groan at how slow it seems to be going, but today seemed to fly by. I usually sustain a speed of about 3.6 on the elliptical; today I kept it up around 4.0, according to the end-of-workout summary, and I hadn't even felt like I was pushing that hard. When I moved around to the weightlifting side of the room, the weights felt lighter, and I even bumped up my settings on a couple of them, and did an extra round of sit-ups, just because the ache felt good.

...

Forget being able to see my cheekbones again. Forget a figure in the mirror that I haven't seen since college, and the matching number on the scale, likewise. Forget a whole wardrobe full of new clothes, and my doctors and family and friends raving about how great I look.

This. This is what balances the monsters lurking under my skin and waiting for me to make a mistake. This is what makes me know I've actually changed over the last eighteen months or so, because two years ago I would never have even thought about saying, "Oh, thank god I'll be able to get to the gym today," much less, "Wow, that burn feels great! I think I'll do some more sit-ups!" Even a year ago, I figured I'd always hate exercising, just like I always have, and that it was just something I would suck up and endure because it was better than the alternative.

Change happens, even when you don't see it coming.