Weight Loss. Exercise. Healthy Eating.
These three things are like my own personal axis of evil.
I mean, I know they're not 'evil' evil, and that with a stronger will power and a positive attitude they could actually be my personal axis of happiness or something equally optimistic. But for the last several years, they've fallen somewhere between 'complete and utter failure' and 'momentary success followed by complete failure' on my success scale.
But, since I'm a Munro, and like Churchill we 'never, never, never (completely) give up', I'm clawing my way back onto the wagon and trying again. Last year I actually had quite a bit of success with the exercise and healthy eating thing. I was working out with a personal trainer 2-3 times a week, and actually got quite fit and strong. It was pretty great. Then I injured my ankle, and it took a long time to figure out what the problem was (tendon issues and a break in one of the bones) and so my training stopped for several months over Christmas. Then my trainer up and moved to Sydney (which I thought was very unsupportive of him) and so my fitness ran off and my tone fell off, and I started eating copious amounts of chocolate again. Sigh. I did occasionally go and swim laps at the pool... but that's it.
SO. I'm trying again. My friend Lauren and I are training together with a new (and lovely) Personal Trainer named Rowena, and I had my first sessions with her last week.
Over four circuits we did 80 squats, 80 sit-ups, 80 push-ups 80 step-ups, and a whole bunch of boxing. As you can tell, we were starting out 'gently', since it was my 'first session back'. (Personal Trainers, by the way, are all a little confused about the meaning of words like 'easy' and 'gentle').
I couldn't move the next day. Well, I could. I suppose I'm exaggerating. But it hurt to move, which is practically the same thing. And to top it all off, the next morning I felt really nauseous. Like, really nauseous. I had some important stuff on that day, so couldn't stay home even though I knew that I needed to because I could tell I was going to be throwing up all day. I said a prayer for strength, and packed emergency 'sick bags' in my handbag, and carried an empty ice-cream container down to the car.
By 10 am, I was still just as nauseous, but I hadn't actually gotten sick.... which was confusing. And at about 10:30 am the penny finally dropped and I suddenly realized that I wasn't sick. I just has sore tummy muscles from the 80 sit-ups I'd done the day before! That's right people, this little woman has muscles in my stomach. Turns out there's more than just 'soft tissue' down there! How exciting is that?!
And so we come to the moral of this story, which appears to be that you'd better wish me luck. I have a feeling that this wagon isn't going to be moving particularly fast.... :)