Am I the only person out there that feels like if I'm not up and moving around, the pounds just waiting to pack on? I imagine them crouched around a corner, ready to leap on my hips with a death grip at the first sign of my slowing down. Really, I know that this isn't the truth. My diet hasn't changed any. Yes, my exercise level is down, but when you do the math, sadly, I am only burning about 90 calories per mile anyway. Sidenote... how unfair is that - my husband is burning well over 100 calories per mile. The perks of being a man and 60lbs heavier than I am! Ugh!
I had not weighed myself since my knee accident happened. Excluding the scale at my doctor's office, and I don't put much stock in what it says. In the space of three months, it had me weighing 105lbs and 135lbs. Trust me, neither one was true. More like an average of the two. I knew I should see how much my weight had really changed in the last 5 weeks. Even though my pants still fit, it was something I didn't really want to find out, but felt obligated to do. I gathered the courage to stand on the scale this past Friday morning. Dumm-da-da-dum..... and the same number appeared there that had shown up 5 weeks ago. Down to the decimal point. Wait a minute. I had been banking on having a mini meltdown. Ready to drown myself in tears and chocolate. Now I had to just stare at the digtial display in disbelief. How very anti-climatic.
It must be a mental thing. Not much movement=obesity in my brain. It's not like anybody had commented on my weight gain. In fact, when I asked on Friday if I could sign up for the Biggest Loser challenge at my work, I was laughed at. As so many things in my running and fitness life, here is another mental challenge. And I'm really quite thankful that in reality it's all in my head!