I didn’t get any sleep Monday night but was determined to finish a complete session. Needless to say, it was – murder. Everything hurt but I kept going. I wanted to take a break but still kept going because…well…I weighed myself. I know, I know, it was a bad move but curiosity got the better of me. The scale held no surprises for me. Long ago, I realised that this is the heaviest I’ve ever been, in my life.
I’m not putting the poundage here because this isn’t the skinny revolution. It’s the fitness revolution and my personal goal is to get fit. I want to run up a flight of stairs without getting winded. Weight loss will happen because it’s a happy by-product of fitness; but strength and stamina are my primary goals. I would (very much) like to get back into my favourite jeans but if I don’t, I’ll be buying a new pair of jeans that fits my big booty.
Getting fit increases in difficulty as a woman ages but I refuse to be a roly-poly lady in my mid-thirties. I’ve been heavy before and lost three dress sizes, chasing fitness not thinness. After this session’s work on the treadmill, there were fifty crunches, abdominal stretches and ten push-ups. They took all my guts to complete and I was happy for the end. Yet I’m undaunted as tomorrow’s another day in the revolution. No retreat, no surrender and no excuses!