I can never remember what week I’m on, so I always have to look back to see.
I missed a couple of days of pushups last week for various reasons, but I keep adding on and when I do boot camp I notice I have more strength. One day I’ll do a damn pushup!!! I’m up to 1:15 on my planks (1:10 last week).
It was National Eating Disorder Awareness Week last week and I got a little pushed over the edge by all the articles I read. I thought enough time had passed but apparently not. It’s all too easy to remember the obsessiveness, self-hatred and secretiveness.
I had a rough week of emotional eating which didn’t help either. I finally put two and two together and figured out why I was overeating; the simple realization that my binges had a lot to do with the rage I woke up with every morning has seemed to help quell my frantic cramfest a little. Someday I’ll deal with the root of this problem, but for now I remain debilitated – paralyzed – by hatred for two reasons:
- I’m terrified to take the cork out of my hatred bottle. This is not going to be pretty for anyone. I don’t know what all is in there and I’m afraid to look.
- I don’t want to take the cork out because that means I’ve set the wheels of confrontation in motion.
Anyway, my 10k is in less than three weeks and I’m getting more excited than nervous now. I ran 5.5 miles on Saturday on the worst, hilliest course I could think of – that’s right, good ol’ SH 7. I’ll admit I had to walk a few times but I still came in at a respectable time. It was the longest I’ve ever run, which means that next weekend’s 6 miles will be the longest I’ve ever run too, and so will the 10k itself. That simple fact is enough to keep me going when I’m huffing and puffing along.