The Treasure of a Day

Mmmm. Today is Good Friday, and that means a three day weekend. It’s completely grey outside, low hanging clouds stretching as far as I can see and tall, rich green trees hanging down over my porch are painting the perfect Spring picture for me. I have the porch door open, and a breeze, weighty with the smell of coming rain, is drifting into the living room. I’m drinking coffee, and the likes of John Mayer, Jason Mraz and Jack Johnson are serenading me while I read my favorite weight-loss motivation book, Jemima J.

On days like this, I feel so loved by the God who created the universe and all of nature. This day was created so I could know Him better. So I could live, love and breathe in the vastness of His creation. I wonder how people who don’t know God feel life. I feel life because I know God sent his son Jesus to a cross so that I could be reconciled to Him. Because Jesus put himself on a cross, I am able to wake up every day and know that while most people will merely exist, I will be completely submerged in the great adventure of LIVING. God, who is beyond all measure, has awakened my spirit. He shows me the beauty in people, in art, in design and on the earth. If people knew the friendship Jesus offers, I think they would be so much more willing to engage in it. But Christianity can be scary because, let’s face it, there are a lot of crazies out there who give it a bad name. But the Truth is, there is nothing better than knowing the Grace given by the One who created us. He offers Love, He offers fun, He offers compassion and patience and a window in the meaning of life that we will otherwise never find. I am, just as a fact, blessed by knowing Him. The King Himself delights to know me. Now tell me, what could be better?

Damn Candy.

Today, all was right in my world. I woke up with a smile. I hugged Iggy so many times last night and despite leaving the house as he cried from his kennel, I was in a good mood.

I had a two hour staff meeting from 9-11am. I came back, checked emails for 30 minutes and decided it would be good to hit the gym before lunch.

Great gym activity: 35 minutes cardio + 15 minutes weights. As I doing my cardio, I decided that today I was going to have a taco salad since yesterday I did not allow myself to have it. (Haven’t I suggested it’s never a good idea to deny ourselves anything?!)

My taco salad.
ooohhh baby, it totally hit the spot.
Just a yumness as in my dreams.

And then, it happened.
Do you see it glistening?
The wrappers glisten in my garbage too.
(there are 9 empty wrappers 
down there and it’s only 1:55pm)
That’s two crappy binge days in a row!

Idea: How about if a bunch of us pool our money together and buy an island off the coast of Australia. We can ban all horribly bad temptations and live happily ever after.

The 5(so-so)k

Well, I ran the 5k loop on the treadmill tonight. It wasn’t super fun, but I was proud of myself. In fact, I was so proud of myself that I called my Dad to tell him about it. Little did I know he ran a 5k last year in 29 minutes, and he’s 51. Wow. That took the wind right out of my sails. My REALLY OLD DAD totally creamed my 5k time. If that’s not motivation, I don’t know what is. All I know is that I need to shave at least 10 minutes off my time if I don’t want to completely humiliate myself at the Warrior Dash, which is exactly one month from tomorrow. Guess I better get my run on!

Anyway, I sure can’t wait to be thin. I might take dance lessons. I might get a bike and ride around everywhere and spend my weekends geocaching. How fun would that be? I’m going to wear skirts and dresses everyday, I know that for sure. I’m going to cut my hair and put highlights in it. I’ll wear espadrilles and high heels and get pedicures. I want to feel as girly as possible. I want a boy to ask for my number. I don’t think I have EVER had a boy ask for my number because he wanted to call me for something other than friendship. This is my year. This is my time. I can’t wait!

This is gonna take a long time.

I had a breakthrough moment tonight. My trainer made me jump rope, and it was horrible. It was horrible because I had to do it standing in front of a mirror. Watching myself jump up and down, my body wiggling and sweating and moving in places I really wished it wouldn’t, I was forced to take a very honest look at myself. I’ve done a pretty swell job of convincing myself that I look pretty good in my clothes. That I’m not really “fat” per se, that I’m just sort of a cute kind of ummm… you know, chubby.


I am way more than chubby. I am, in no uncertain terms, quite fat. As it slowly started to hit me, the gravity of my situation, I felt my eyes welling up with tears. It was a brutal moment. One where I realized that this journey would be exactly that – a journey. If 3500 calories is the equivalent of one pound of fat, it will take me burning at least 500 calories a day in order to lose 1 pound of fat per week. Which means it will take me many, many weeks to lose 75 pounds, which is what I need to lose to hit my goal of 130 pounds. Wow.

I’m not going to set a date. In the past, that has always turned out to be just one more thing for me to fail at. One more reason for me to give up when I realize my “date” is almost here and my “goal” is nowhere near being reached. I don’t care how long it takes. I don’t care if it takes me until next year. I will keep on keepin’ on. If I cry, I cry. But to hell with the excuses, with the pity parties, with the wishful thinking and the daydreams. This is it, this is now, this is what I’ve got. I’ve got legs that can run, I’ve got arms that can lift and I have a core that, with a little (ok a lot) of help, can take me to the heights of athleticism. I want it. My Nanny (what I call my grandmother on my Mom’s side) has always told me that I can do anything I want if I want it bad enough. Well, I’m 25, and I finally, finally want it bad enough.