After probably a six-month hiatus from any exercise whatsoever (an let's be honest, healthy eating as well), today ...
After months of not being able to fit into most of my "new" clothes ...
After months of feeling my "bad" knee getting more and more painful ...
I FINALLY strapped on the Exercise Uniform and hit the elliptical.
I will admit it. It was an act of rebellion, this exercise hiatus. I am good at that. The rebellion bit. Just ask the 'Rents. Pretty sure the gray hairs on each of their heads are from me and my uber rebellious nature as a sweet tyke.
I just got tired of paying attention to stuff that I was sure no one else in the world had to pay attention to (I was/am wrong, of course. Plenty of people are very careful about what they eat and what sort of exercise they get). Plus, my job got in the way. It ALWAYS gets in the way. Oy vey, this job! Society would have me believe that my entire world revolves around those that walk through the doors of that school.
But here's the thing. Society? My kids? Their parents? My colleagues? My administrators? My friends? My family? Whomever is vying for my time and talents? They don't live in MY body. Not a one of them. They don't have to try to make this thing work daily until the good Lord calls me home. The ONLY one living in this skin is me. And man! I have to make sure I am doing it right. I have a limited time in this thing, and if I'm not careful, I will running it into the ground rather than out into the sunset.
Up to this point? Not so right. Pretty much the opposite of right. I've been doing it all wrong.
Two years ago, when things got wildly out of control, I made some steps to take the control back. I took steps to put healthier things in my body. I took steps to make healthier, more active lifestyle choices. And it worked.
I was happier. People noticed it.
I was healthier. My skin never looked better. People noticed.
I was slightly thinner ... 20 lbs thinner. People noticed.
And then ... I don't know what... I hit a plateau and a bad attitude, and suddenly, I was doing everything for every one, and the only one feeling the benefit was, well, every one BUT me.
No more of that nonsense!
The buck stops here.
I started off slow. My knee will get worse before it gets better -- I know this from experience. And there's no sense injuring some thing right off the bat.
But I want to shock people with what 42 looks like ... and in a good way. Not at "holy crap, THAT'S what 42 looks like? No thanks!" kind of way.
So, 42 looks like claiming a stake in my own life! 42 looks like taking back the control.
This is what 42 looks like ...