26.2: The number of miles I walked/ran at the Walt Disney World Marathon in January, a goal I worked my ass off last year to achieve.
3: The number of months it has been between that race and this past week - the first time I've run since, save for once or twice.
4: The approximate number of weeks it took me to suck up my pride at the realization I needed to start my running journey back at the beginning of Couch to 5K and actually do it (tonight, I will be on W1D3).
29: The age I turned last month.
10: The number of years it's been since I started Weight Watchers for the first time. This month actually, I think.
6: The size of the wedding dress I bought that currently zips halfway up.
2006: The last time I saw something resembling the number I saw today on the scale:
19: The date in April I'm going to start taking "It's Not an Option" (INO) seriously up until my wedding day and beyond to be the healthiest version of myself - the person I know I am inside.
1: The number of years it will have been, to the day, that I got engaged when I start this journey this Saturday.
20: The number of weeks I hope to take to reach my goal weight and be able to zip up my wedding dress and say with confidence, "I did this shit."
To say I'm scared is an understatement. But the thing is, I usually let my fear propel me, not stymie me. I've skydived, traveled to the other side of the world, and left a great man to follow my heart and never look back. I've been the first person on either side of my family to graduate from a four-year university, and have never taken no for an answer. I turned getting laid off a year ago into an opportunity to start a freelance career I'd been holding off on, and I wouldn't trade the (albeit arguably small amount of) success I've found with that for anything.
So why in the world have I let fear rule me when it comes to my health and fitness? Why have I let myself gain 25 lbs. since Josh and I got together three years ago?
I think to myself what I'd tell a friend, and it'd be the following:
1. You're good enough.
2. You're strong enough.
3. You're beautiful.
4. You deserve to feel beautiful in your own skin.
5. Food is not the enemy.
6. Junk food will always be there.
7. It hurts because you're changing - without the hurt, there is no change.
8. Your children will look to you for inspiration one day.
9. Forgive yourself.
10. Move forward.
I know these are the things I need to tell myself, and more. I know the journey will be hard, but then again, what journey with a reward worth anything is easy?
I'm tired of going back and forth and shaming myself over and over again. I'm tired of seeing being health conscious as a chore. I'm tired of choosing sleeping in over running, and making up stupid justifications for doing so. I'm tired of looking at my running medals and telling myself I'm not an athlete anymore. I'm tired of being terrified of the impending day when my "big" jeans won't fit anymore, gazing longingly at my neglected skinny jeans, and lamenting over how I can only wear about 40% of my closet (and only 50% of that comfortably). I'm tired of choosing the easy path over the right one, and of feeling sorry for myself. It's not me, and it never has been. And it sure as hell isn't going to start now. It's time to walk the talk, and accept that this is a marathon, not a sprint. Cliché, but one I really need to listen to right now.
I'm going to be blogging here regularly along my journey, and I really hope you guys follow me. It's going to be a rough summer, and I will need all the support I can get.
Love you all. Thank you for continuing to believe in me.