thunder only happens when it's raining.

And suddenly I remember how I lost the first 20 pounds.

Here's a hint: my grades went to shit, I couldn't stay up past 7pm, and my body constantly hurt.

Yep, that's my reality right now. Eff.

As I was running on the treadmill yesterday, cursing myself for everything I've ever eaten and praying to Jesus that the hundredths of a mile would accumulate a little faster, I was thinking: Is this really worth it? I mean, really? Is it?

Beyond the initial burst of energy, running on the treadmill is 0.99mi of torture, ripping apart my body at every step. I could not be happier when the digital screen reads "Distance: 1.00." No, really, I could not be happier. Just a few months ago I was struggling with stairs. I was struggling with the simple task of getting around. Airplane seatbelts: my mortal enemy. Multi-level establishments without escalators: my mortal enemy. But yesterday, for the second day in a row, I have shown the treadmill who is boss.

I know it's sideways and really blurry, but that's what it looks like when you take pictures of the treadmill on your phone while running. But if you squint, turn your head sideways and pretend you're drunk, there on the left you can see the digital readout says 1:01 (kinda looks like 3:03, but I swear I'm not that much of a boss... yet).



And this beast? Day 2 of resistance level 4 on the elliptical! I've taken my daily routine from 3 miles down to 2 to account for the strain of running, though really I am doing more than I probably should. But I vowed to myself to break through this slump so that someday soon I can brag about being 25X. I don't even care if it's 259.5... I WILL GET THERE.

Something new for breakfast. Bran flakes with vanilla yogurt and blueberries. I'm in a desperate grocery situation yet again, and I had to fight every fiber of my being not to go to McDonald's to pick up my food for the day. It's not that I even want McD's, but when all you have in your fridge is cheese and onions it's hard not to feel like you're pretty fucked.



Ten Truths for Tuesday:
1. I am REALLY sore. Like, reminiscent of my first time with a guy kind of sore. Catch my drift? Except it's all over my body, from my arms (damn you cross training) to my abs to my entire legs (even my toes hurt).

2. I'm pretty sure I cried in my sleep thinking about how today is barely Tuesday. I would kill a small animal to make it be Wednesday. I don't freaking understand how I start out every single week being so utterly exhausted.

3. I've always wanted to be a runner. I was a giant bitch to this girl in high school because she was skinny and on the cross country team. I hated her based on those two facts alone (and also because she was charming and popular and smart and pretty and her parents were rich... small details). Looking back on it with ten years' hindsight, I feel really bad because it turns out I didn't hate her, I hated myself.

4. I refuse to live my life in stretch pants. Boyfriend has a really bad habit of going out in public wearing sweats (I'm not just talking about going to the grocery store, he goes to his job like that sometimes) and I find it to be really tacky on people of our size. I am well aware of the rampant fatism in this country and even though no one has ever said anything about it to my face, I would hate to give haters a reason to hate. Seriously though, as a matter of personal preference, I find it extremely important to take care in my personal appearance when it comes to clothes in public because I don't want to give people another reason to believe that I'm just a fat lazy slob. NO STRETCH PANTS IN PUBLIC.

5. I am convinced I am the only person in the history of pharmaceutical science to enjoy being on Diamox. No no no, I'm not even on Diamox, I'm taking the generic acetazolamide (for all you non-IIHers, the generic is well known to cause even worse side effects).

6. I've been living my exercise journey through two rules:

7. Go to the gym today. I never had a weight loss goal, I just followed the mantra "go to the gym everyday." But I immediately sensed a problem with the original phrasing, specifically "everyday." In my head, that meant that each day was tied to the next, and the one after that, and the one after that, and the dozens of hundreds of millions that came after. Needless to say, I got overwhelmed pretty quickly. So I changed it to say "go to the gym today." Here's why: If I go to the gym today, then I have succeeded and that makes me feel good for having accomplished something. It has nothing to do with what I did yesterday or what I'm doing tomorrow. It breaks down accomplishments into bite size portions that doesn't accumulate to make me feel like I've 60% succeeded or 40% failed. Either I do it, or I don't. And the reasons for why I don't go to the gym are purely up to me. Sometimes it's totally justified and I don't allow myself to feel bad about it, but most times when I feel the urge to skip I know damn well that I'm sabotaging myself. Going to the gym is much easier for me when I break it down this way.

8. It takes 21 days to make a habit. I know most people say "make OR break a habit" but honestly I find it to be seriously negative to be talking about breaking habits. I'm big on juju, and talk of breaking habits gives me bad juju. Instead of thinking of things like "I want to stop being lazy" I put it in more positive terms like "I want to be more active." It does SO MUCH for one's self esteem, believe me.

9. French people don't exercise, and it pisses me off. The summer I spent in France, I saw no gyms, no runners, nothing to give me any impression that the French were health-minded in anyway. But they're all so skinny and small! And it drives me up the wall how impeccably dressed they are in their long skirts and nylons with the piping in the back. No one really wears makeup and hair isn't a big deal, but they all look so good. I hate the French. I love the French.

10. I've been wearing my ADIpures for so long that I've forgotten what thick soled shoes feel like. I don't miss it. Also, barefoot running = BOSS.