Bitter

There are times when I fantasize (yes it's true, Bill has a fantasy world) about my epic struggle with myself. This blog is a poor reflection of that. In my fantasy world I'm always at the end of it, reminiscing about how hard it was shedding those pounds, getting to where I wanted to be, how happy, no that's not the word, how smug I am about weighing 185 pounds and being in shape.

However living it, getting there is hard, in fact when I hit a setback it sincerely sucks.

This weekend I burned a huge number of calories for me. I didn't even log some of it but I also ate a huge number of calories. Still, when I stepped on the scale this morning I expected to be in the 200-201 range.

I weighed in at 204, gaining a pound.

I'm bitter, bitter Bill.

What has surprised me most about exercise is the contemplation, the introspection that comes with it and the resulting clarity. I have an image, a clear mental image of where I want to be (and not just physically) but I want it handed to me ("Here take this pill and you have it all").

Having it handed to me is what makes me bitter. I don't like that about myself.

Exercising towards a goal is ruthless, the only lying going on is to yourself - you want it? Work for it. When I achieve my goal(s) I know it will only come from a discipline I currently lack, and if I'm the slightest bit smug about it you have permission to slap me, repeatedly.

Perhaps this isn't an exercise in futility but an exercise in humility.