Soooo, it has been a while since I’ve waxed lyrical on my goal of running 5km by Christmas. Probably because it’s clear that’s not going to happen.
It’s not so bad. I’ll get close. I just had a couple of weeks off. And was running sporadically before that. If I pick up my game now, I should be able to run 5km in a month or so.
Half my problem is that I reached my goal weight. Which is fabulous! I weigh now what I did when I got married at 22. But it means I got slack. Which is not fabulous because I have a secret goal weight that is three kilograms less than my weight now. And then I have a super secret crazy goal weight that is another two kilos lighter than that.
The thing is, I’ve realised that this exercise thing isn’t just the means to an end. If I want to keep this weight off, if I want to get to that secret crazy goal weight, if I want to indulge in delicious food and glasses of wine and stay reasonably slim… then this running thing has to become a habit. It’s for the long haul, baby.
That conclusion doesn’t exactly fill me with glee. I’m not a huge fan of the exercise thing. I love how I feel afterwards – the aching muscles and clear head and endorphin-filled blood. But during the run? Hating it. Doubting myself. Wishing it to be over.
All for a good cause though. It feels good to be looking forward to summer and skirts and shorts and fake tans and bathers. It feels good to have my hubby tell me how sexy I look (although he does that anyway – he is my biggest fan and for that I am so grateful). It feels good to know I’m setting a good example for my kids.
I really hope to be back here not long after Christmas to report that I have done it. Be nice to tick one of my resolutions off within the first month of the year!