The all knowing, all mighty, all currently-running-my-life scale, has basically went to inch worm status. It's really dishardening when I am logging around 15 ish miles in a single week, and I am not eating massive amounts of crap.
I feel stuck again, which makes crazy brain want to take over. We all know the crazy brain voice, don't we? Mine kind of sounded like this today.
"If this isn't making a difference, then why kill yourself for it? Why not just eat what you want in whatever portion you want?"
Sometimes this is easier to ignore than others, especially if my reason and sanity are quick to respond. I know inspite of what the scale reflects.. it IS making a big difference, just not one that the scale is showing. But eating whatever I want in whatever portion I want will likely make me gain, even in the short term, and that is more weight that I have to take off. Considering I am battling for a measley 1 pound loss (and I swear I shall never complain about only losing 1 pound again!), does listening to the crazy seem a good idea at all? Nooooooooooo!
I can only stay the course, and focus on fitness related goals in the meantime. Since it was 93 the other day, I shook up my normal work out routine and hit the gym. I got on the ellipitcal.. shoved the resistance to 5 and set my timer for 45 minutes. The last three minutes I got a wind of insanity and bumped it to 10.
This is awesome considering where I started. See! Goals! Weeeh!
Then I decided to do a couple of laps around the track to end out my cardio, and to try to double time it. Usually my double time lasts around 1 lap, maybe 2 on a good day. This time, I was going for three. First lap was no big deal. Second lap, I was already having to blow out and knew that I'd be a mouth breathing neanderthal by 3 . Which was when I decided to kick it into overdrive... cause that totally makes the most sense.
Now.. I realize what this must look like to the rest of the gym rats watching. Kinda like a "Dick, Jane, Spot" book in motion.
See chubby girl. See chubby girl try to sprint. See chubby girl huffing and puffing, and threatening to blow the whole gym down. ..
But you know? I don't care! The feeling even though it is terribly short is well worth it. It feels seriously feels like flying. I am pushing off the balls of my feet with each stride. .. My legs extend farther to cover more ground. My arms are closer into my body, lifting with a military like precision to add to speed. What did all that get me today?
Breaking another small record. I've never been able to run as fast as I could for more than 2 laps, tops. I did three. That's worth any percieved looks, or comments. This is what this started out being about. Wanting to do things I've never been able to do before. That is really easy to forget while I am looking down at a scale. I keep telling myself to stay the course, and the scale will reflect my hard work. That plateau suck.. but it will pass. Right?