Twelve months ago, I was banging on about how I was running and loving it. Then I injured my ankle and back, and I was always going to get back in to it, but excuses, and blah blah blah, it didn’t happen.
All through last year, I told friends from one of my mother’s groups that I was trying to lose the last of my baby weight, but I pretty much stayed the same weight all year. I started sporadically going to the gym after I went back to uni, but then I got distracted by assignments and exams. Fast forward to the start of this year, and one of my goals I set for myself for the year was taking care of myself physically.
I’m not sure how serious I was about it. A few days into the new year, I was shovelling a block of chocolate in my gob, telling myself it was good quality dark chocolate, so it wasn’t that bad for me. Ha! Until I realised how many calories I’d smashed in five minutes. It was like a slap upside the head. I’m not going to lose weight if I don’t exercise, and if I eat chocolate very day. And that family history of being overweight/obese, heart disease and type two diabetes? If I don’t make changes, that’s my future. I don’t want that, for myself, or my children.
Now, I’m not overly heavy, but I’m pretty short, so any extra weight shows up pretty quickly on me. I’m sick of feeling heavy, I’m sick of having crappy skin, and I’m sick of the way I look carrying extra weight. I’m sick of talking about losing weight, but not actually doing anything about it. So I’m counting calories and I’m making better food choices, I’m working out and I’m feeling good. I’ve just got to keep it up. I always stumble when some sort of hurdle pops up – injury, uni assignments, life. I’ve got to remember how good I feel when I’m healthy, how much better I am at life when I’m fuelling my body with wholesome food and when I’m feeling strong. This has to be a goal for life, not just for the year.
Every day, I must choose to make my health a priority. Every day, I must choose my future.