Well, I have been working like crazy on my new goal, of attempting to five miles a day. I have stepped back down to two miles a day and am hoping to push another half mile each week. Although today I attempted to push another half mile and I thought my legs were going to fall off. So maybe every two weeks, I am pretty sure that will still work out mathematically by new years?
So far in seve days have ran sixteen miles. Not bad, I am rather impressed that I have accomplished that much considering my previous running experiences consisted of running to the front of the lunch line, running to the fridge to get beer before the time out was over, or getting snack quickly enough to bet the commercial break during Grey's Anatomy.
Needless to say I was feeling very optimistic this morning when I was running; until....my Son. It is amazing how kids see things so simple, not because they are kids, but because my son is a smart ass just like me. I have been running in my basement, and it is very cool down there and most importantly secluded. I was running at a great pace and feeling good with myself when my child comes down to enjoy some company. Now mind you I am running in appropriate attire, if I was smoking hot, but I figure..it is just me what the Hell. So I today am running in my gray yoga pants that fit so nicely, meaning that they really don't push any bulges around to make me look bumpy, and a light pink sports bra. The cutest pair of gray and pink rocket running shoes. My hair is neatly pulled back with a pink ribbon and even though I am not a size 7 I am still quite beautiful.
Well my son flips on the TV and talks about something, I really wasn't listening. When he said, "Mom..I asked you a question." I very politely replied, " WHAT, I am running here." yes is was way nicer then that, but come on people..moms never get to stop being moms and it does totally get annoying sometimes!!
" I said, how much weight have you lost?" he shouted.
"11 pounds" I replied in between breathes.
" How much are you trying to loose?" he asked with a puzzled look on his face.
" 61 pounds, why?"
He sat very quiet and looked me up and down. I could tell he was think how to say what every it was and not get into trouble. It is the same look my husband gives me, when he wants to buy something and he knows I am going to say no, so he must word it just right.
"Well, that is a lot, you better keep running cuz 11poounds doesn't look any different on you" then he went back to playing.
I stared at him thinking.."shit head" So now I am terribly nervous about Tuesday's weigh in..how am I gonna stay positive? When my freaking seven year old just punched me in the gut...
Any ideas out there?