I forgot to take a picture this morning, but I weighed in at .4 lbs higher this week than last week. Considering I have been really slacking, that is not as big of a shocker as I was expecting.
I did successfully complete a run yesterday before I picked up Felix. I told myself I only had to go 20 minutes, and I actually ended up going 25, which is acceptable to me. About halfway through I got a side stitch that was pretty annoying, but overall, my legs felt good and my lungs weren’t too tight.
While I was running, I could tell that i was going slow, but I just didn’t care because I was glad I made it out of the house. The weird thing about running for me right now is that while I’m doing it, I really enjoy it. Yesterday for example, my timer said that I was at 10 minutes, my self-designated turn-around time, and I didn’t want to yet. I wanted to keep going until I got “just a little farther.” There were at least three separate times that I pushed myself to go to the next landmark just because I knew I could and I was feeling fine. Somehow, this knowledge of the good feeling I get from running still does not outweigh my dread. I know I’ll feel better, I know I enjoy it, I know I don’t feel like I’m going to die while I’m doing it, and yet I just DON’T WANT TO. The therapist inside me is yelling at me for my lack of insight in this matter. I said yesterday that I want to run today too, which I do… but I’m also feeling very tired and lazy and blahhh. A run would definitely help to wake me up, which I really need because I still need to clean the house for my mother-in-law’s visit this weekend. I just need to remember that running will make the whole weekend better, it will make my pregnancy feel better, and it will help me reach my goal of being in the 120’s, which I’d like to do SOMETIME in this pregnancy. My actions really need to start reflecting my thoughts. Clearly I need some CBT in my life. haaa