For the last 10ish weeks I've been feeling like a 64 inch high pile of lumpy mashed potatoes. This is the longest I've ever gone without any real exercise in, well, probably my life. The first month was actually kind of nice. I had an excuse to on the couch watching HGTV while Andrew was working out on weekend days...didn't even feel slightly bad about it. Then, I just started feeling the mashed potato grossness. (When you only fit into 10% of your wardrobe it only intensifies the feeling.)
I was finally cleared to work out a couple weeks ago, and I got off to a slow start. By slow I mean I worked out once in 10 days, with my gym bag packed and in my car for a week straight. I blame it on work. (I always have excuses.) I finally made myself commit this weekend though.
Today was great. I ran. I actually ran. I mean, I was walking in between bursts of running, since I'm not allowed to let my heart rate go up that high, but I was definitely running, and dare I say...there was even some perspiration. Who knew this could be so exciting? I think I was even smiling while I was on the shrink-my-butt machine, which probably made me look totally deranged.
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