So things have been going ok, I'm still the same weight I was the last time I blogged. I keep gettin' told how good I am looking, but I struggle to see it when the numbers don't go down. When I voice this I usually get the "you're building muscle speech" - funny how everyone is an expert. My friend gave me it this morning, but she did go out with a personal trainer for years, so I'll probably give her credit in that there is a good chance she knows what she's talking about.
I am very dependent on the numbers. I need to see the change, see the results. If I don't it does have a frustratingly massive impact on me. Bad result = bad mood, bad day and bingeing. Good result = reward! You wonder why I don't get that many good results.
Honestly though I have resigned myself to the fact that I am pretty much going to look the way I look today on my holiday and I can feel the doubts creeping in. My belly seems more flabby, my flaws appear emphasised, when I know there is going to be bikini wearing situations in the not too distant future.
Still, positive thought dictates - I am still the lightest and thinnest I have been for almost 3 years. That is an achievement, and I know I'll feel good on my holiday. Its clear the implementation of exercise has been the missing link through all the diet plans, pill popping, fad extreme diets of the past.
However, my main motivator has been the manfriend. Mr manfriend has loved getting back into shape, and is really reaping the rewards of his efforts (as am I...if you know what I mean...*dirty laugh*). thing is though, we are starting to butt heads a little over this issue.
Manfriend wants to do a triathlon next year. He had mentioned it during the Olympics and I thought he just had Olympic fever and it would pass. Alas, no: he sent me the training plan out the blue one day....shit!
Once I had a look though it didn't seem too bad, fairly do-able actually (its a sprint one, not Olympic distances). The running is only 3 miles, which I already do, and more (although not running the whole way yet....8 out of the 10 mins to do a mile ain't bad.). I thought about the opportunity to do something really different for charity as well, and so I tentatively agreed.
Of course, this was a giant mistake. What I should have done is agree in my head but kept manfriend in the dark. There has even been talks of running on holiday.....on HOLIDAY!?!?!? Next thing I am getting asked about heart rate monitors, 90 page documents about nutrition. It all just seems a bit...much.
To be fair I unfairly took it out on manfriend, as my stress levels are raised because I have 785 things to do in the next two weeks before we jet off. During the rant, sparked by the heart monitor discussion, I said this:
"you exercise to get fit, I exercise to get thin."
You see I hate, physically hate, running. The whole time I am out, not being able to breathe, being too hot and sweaty. I hate the pain I am in during the run, after it. I hate the pains I get for days after doing the kettlebell program. I hate the lot! What I love, the reason I do it, is the results. I do feel better, happier, as a result of the endorphins. (released after the exercise). Most of all I love the shape my body is slowly developing. I have a waist, a nice waist, and bum is smaller, and my boobs. In fact from the boobs up, and my arms, I am getting quite a toned look.
Although manfriend loves his muscles, and his resulting physique of exercise, as well as I do, there is something else driving him. Manfriend loves goals, 4 miles, 6 miles, and beating them, beating the time, working on the endurance. Doing it faster, harder, pushing, pushing pushing. racing, against himself, other people, the clock. There is a competitive edge, a sense of self-gratification when goals are met and times are beaten.
I don't have that thing, that drive, to do this. I do what I need to do to keep losing weight.
Maybe this is something I need to think about more....? Thoughts?
