In one succinct sentence, my entire resolution for this year is the title of this post
"f**k it...why not?"
This is my year of trying new things, doing those things I've said I've always wanted to do but was too scared/broke/lazy/preoccupied, or, more likely, that I was too busy putting everyone else's wants and needs before my own.
Priorities, people. I'm making myself one.
So far: Rock climbing (indoors) with the boys on auto-belay, followed a week later with the Rock 101 class which taught me to belay as well as all the knots I need to tie in. *Note to self: find a friend that wants to make this a somewhat regular thing...the one I took the class with, while I love her to her toes, I think will be hard to get to commit to repeat visits*
Also: Crossfit. 3 x week, starting my 4th week today...kicks my ass, but so far I've been really proud of myself; except for one day in which I, yes, had to give up. Sprints. Normally something I'd, on paper, look forward to, but I just didn't have any gas left in the tank. Went out too fast on the first two and had nothing left to give. In an unusual development, I developed great guilt over not finishing this workout and instead of drowning my sorrows with a "feel bad for myself" food binge, two days later I went to the track, warmed up with 1/4 mile jog, finished my other 5 sprints & cooled down with another 1/4 mile. Was it the same as finishing at CF? No. Did I get as much out of it as I would have if I could have pushed through the pain and the I think I'm going to puke factor? Doubtful. Did I feel better about myself? Absolutely. I think that's good enough for now, and next time I'm confident that the memory of the feeling of guilt & disappointment will push me to go a little harder, a little faster, a little longer. Go Me.
In unrelated news, shoulder feels GREAT in all caps. Actually, my "good" shoulder has been quietly complaining (*additional note to self: look up old rehab exercises and strengthen good shoulder*) but the repaired one is happy as a lark. That Dr. R. kicked serious ass on that surgery, and though the recovery was long & unhappy, the results are freaking awesome.
Also, on the mental side of things, I've always called myself an "emotional eater" because it seemed like an easy way to explain why I was heavier than I wanted to be, but I'm not sure I ever really bought into it...in my heart I think I always thought I was a lazy eater; grab what's in sight, preferably chocolate and peanut butter & eat till stuffed. I never really related it to my frame of mind, but I'm gaining some new insight on that whole concept...For a long time now I've just been moving forward, status quo, thinking good enough was good enough, but in a breaking development, I've found out that I haven't really been actually happy in a long time. Mostly a life of "eh" punctuated by moments of happiness...that is changing; new people, new situations, new outlooks...and, crazy thing, my intake of crap food has remarkably diminished, which I could probably, if I wanted to, write off as a phase, but now when the unhappy hits it's a huge difference from the happy and I'm feeling it much more clearly than before. As it turns out, when that unhappy hits, it's all I can do to keep from driving to the store for a PB Twix or something equally as delish and unhealthy. Turns out I am an emotional eater after all. Who knew.
