The Gym: I don’t like it

I’ve done it again. Fallen off the workout wagon… It’s been three weeks since I’ve taken my scheduled cycling class and two weeks since I’ve had pool time with Christie. What on earth is wrong with me? Why do I do this to myself? The short answer, I just don’t really like working out. So if anything, any little thing distracts me I get off track.

Sure working out makes me feel better, increases my energy, helps me sleep sounder, but the physical act of working out — I just don’t like.  And to be truthful since I haven’t shed any pounds in forever, I’m even less enthused about working out. I know better than this, all of this, but somehow I’m here again. I talked to my dear friend who is active and healthy she says she goes through similar phases too. Maybe this is just to be expected, eh? I dunno. I just know that I want to better than this, or do I? Heavy sigh. I’ll stop rambling. I’m sure I sound like a broken record. How many times have I been in this place? Geez, when will I come up with a plan I can stick to and enjoy? Back to the drawing board again. I’m reminded of this saying… if you don’t like starting over, don’t stop.

Other related blog post: 
It’s hard
Better for it


Chrisetta Mosley

Chrisetta Mosley

I am a product – and now a survivor – of childhood obesity. As a child, my family always told me that my extra weight was merely baby fat and I’d eventually grow out of it. I never did. Instead, my childhood is filled with memories of not being able to ride a bike, flattening its training wheels from being over the recommended weight, and avoiding P.E. classes by any means necessary. For years, I wore my fatness like a wounded soldier wears a Purple Heart - with pride. I owned the look. I dressed it up. I worked the room. There wasn't a skinny girl who intimidated me. I made sure my hair was laid just right. Nails polished. Outfits coordinated to the tee. Accessories to compliment every outfit. But everyone has a breaking point, and mine came in the spring of 2004 when I tipped the scale at nearly 400 pounds 388 to be exact. I was MISERABLE trapped inside of that body. I no longer wore my Purple Heart with pride. Rather, I was ashamed and frightened. Ashamed that I had allowed food to become my everything – frightened I would die because of it. Drastic times called for drastic measures... Today, I’m bound and determined to live a better, healthier, active lifestyle. I realize I’m no longer a passenger in my life, I’m the driver. I’m overcoming my inhibitions and I’m slowly but surely saying farewell to my old childhood nemesis, obesity. For once and for all, Farewell Fatso!

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