Swim. Bike. Run.
This is what my life has consisted of for the past few months. Ever since the end of June, when I decided to add triathlon training to my half marathon training, I have been swimming, biking, or running virtually every day. Most weeks I work out 7 days a week; I only take a day off if I am sick, exhausted beyond measure, or if it's the day before a race. Since the end of June, not only have I worked out almost every day, but I have also run 2 half marathons and completed my first triathlon. My second triathlon is coming up in about a week and a half; this one will be a double one, where I will swim, bike, run, get back the water and swim, bike and run again.
One thing that bothers me is that in spite of all my exercising, I have actually GAINED weight. No, I am not exercising to lose weight. On my list of reasons why I am exercising, losing weight is not at the top of the list. Before I started running again back in January I was a size 6, and now, 10 months and a million workouts later I am still a size 6. But the scale shows more weight. I have not changed my eating habits, so I know that the added weight is muscle. My body is tighter, my clothes fit better, and I hear from everyone how good I look.
And yet, I would like to see the number on the scale reflect what I feel my body looks like. I used to weigh myself daily, and would be in either a good mood or a bad mood depending on what number I saw. Recently I moved my scale into my closet, where I can't really get to it easily (I have to actually take it out of the closet and put in on the bathroom floor to weigh myself). I only weigh myself once a week now. And I am trying not to let whatever number might show up get me down.
Ideally I would just toss the scale altogether...but I'm not that brave. I need to embrace the body that I have. This is a body that I've worked hard to get heart-healthy and bone-healthy. This is a body that allows me to train for and compete in half-marathons and triathlons (heck, I've even once completed a FULL marathon). This is a body that conceived and carried two beautiful children to full-term. This a a body that was cut open twice to deliver those babies. This a body that nursed a boy for 14 months, nursed a girl for 12 months, and produced so much MORE milk that I had to donate the excess to a milk bank. This is a body that I have finally, at the age of 40, grown comfortable in it's skin.
I need to not be so hard on myself---and to ignore some pesty little numbers on a stupid scale.
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