That's what the scale said this morning.
I haven't seen a weight below 145 since I was in my twenties. In fact, this is the longest I've spent in any portion of the 140's since my twenties, let alone being below 145.
Let's check that sidebar, kids... yep. I'm forty.
Holy crap. I mean, this is a totally good thing, but... wow.
In other news, last night I made personal history by staying on my much-abused-and-maligned elliptical for thirty entire minutes. Yes! And I wouldn't have done it, but Draz over at It's Just Me, Drazil & Sheniqua blogged about power and I committed to 30 minutes in the comments.
It's amazing what the threat of public embarrassment will do for one's motivation.
On tap tonight, more Tabata sprints (dangit Charlotte!), followed by my resistance workout. I've reduced my cardio to 30 minutes a day, 5 days per week. I did months at an hour a day for six days per week, and followed that up with an hour a day for five days per week. I didn't hate it, but I also came to realize that neither of those options are livable or sustainable for me. I began to resent the time spent away from my family, the enforced sandwiches-as-dinner so I could manage to get in my workout, help with homework, get kids bathed, etc. all before nine at night. There are only so many hours in a day, and I don't want to spend the lion's share of my waking time at home essentially running or walking nowhere.
Thirty minutes per day, however, is both livable and sustainable. It also enables me to take the time to get in my resistance work as well, which is super-important considering my family's history of osteoporosis (not to mention my own stress fracture history).
I've set my date for reaching goal (130 pounds) as December 31 of 2011. Yes, that's over a year from now. I'm at a healthy weight; there's no need for urgency with the scale. I want to see it moving downward, and while doing that I have to be sure I'm not concentrating on weight loss at the expense of my family time, cooking time, or just plain "me, not on a treadmill" time.
I'm not trying to be all dramatic with this. I mean, my kids are amused by my exercise attempts, Choreboy is incredibly supportive, and I know ultimately that I do my best to balance work, home, and self. It's the resentment I was feeling over that hour that's more to the point, I think. Like I said, it just wasn't sustainable for me. I work forty hours per week, commuting adds another ten hours minimum... it feels like life's just flying by.
The boys are maturing. The Elder is getting a little dark shadow over his upper lip that's more impressive than mine; the Gum Zombie already looks alarmingly like a middle-sized kid rather than a little boy. And I don't want to blink and be fifty and wonder where I was for the last decade.
April 26th, 2017 The Importance of Acting
2 hours ago