So I jumped on the scale last night after the gym because I felt like I’d really worked up a good sweat, and I hadn’t had dinner yet so I was feeling uber-skinny.
I don’t weigh myself very often because I think it can be discouraging and your day-to-day weight is really not an accurate gauge of progress. My weight can shift +/- three or even four or five pounds in a single day depending on how much I’ve eaten, drank, run, sweat, etc. (I’ve actually lost 5+ pounds just in water weight after long runs!)
But like I said, I got on the scale to see how many dozens of pounds I’d lost after all these incredible, dedicated weeks of running and conditioning.
Turns out I am extremely adept at maintaining weight.
If you three or four loyal readers were with me back when I started training for this half-marathon, you’ll remember I included a photo of my symbolic weigh-in to mark the beginning of my transformation. I had these grand ambitions of losing all sorts of weight and running faster than I’ve ever run before. (queue the church music and divine light shining down on me from the heavens as I float serenely across the finish line).
Yeah, nowhere in that vision was there a pasta bowl as big as my head and enough ciabatta loaves to feed an army. Whoopsie!
Maybe I’ve just been watching a little too much of the Biggest Loser.
Don’t get me wrong. My ultimate, ultimate goal is not weight loss. I’d love to be 10 lbs lighter but I’m also realizing how much I love to eat, drink and be merry, and I don’t have the ambition or the willpower to cut my calorie intake enough to actually drop pounds.
I COULD, I just CHOOSE not to. 😛
And because I run, it comforts me to know that I can eat a whole pizza every once in a while and it will cancel out. (Oh, and I do, my friends, I do.)
And if I want to feel fake-good about myself, I’ll just go into the dressing room at Old Navy and hop around in front of their skinny mirrors for a while.