I have been on this quest to lose the rest of my I shoved everything I could get my hands on into my face baby weight. Let me clarify one point here while I am at it. The weight I still have to lose is from my first child. After number two, I was back to pre-baby #2 weight within six months. My daughter was nine months old when I conceived my son, and needless to say, I was not back to my old self yet. Now I am within ten pounds (8.5 to be precise), and the going is so so so slow.
I weight train three times each week and I do my cardio an additional three times (okay, if I am being honest I do it twice with all intentions of doing it three). One thing I do not like to do is run. Oh I was on this little running kick a while back and I slowly increased my ability to run from like half a mile to about three miles. However, it was not helping me shed the weight any faster, and as I mentioned...I do not enjoy running. When I hear my friend talk about the "runner's high" I look at her as if she amazingly just began speaking Russian. I don't get it. I can appreciate how the body emits endorphins which create that (elusive for me) runner's high...but I still don't get it. I mean it literally, it doesn't happen for me.
This all leads me to where this is coming from to begin with. I went running tonight. Yes, I made a conscious decision to self torture. Not two minutes into the run my knees start to ache, and my breath is coming out in huffs strong enough to sway the tree branches as I pass. Really...I saw them move. All this in the name of my last few vanity pounds.
Now here's the deal...I have not ever had a skinny build. I have an athletic frame (and no, that doesn't mean heavy). My closest friend is super tall and super thin, and you look at her and say "she's a runner." Currently I can look at myself in the mirror, and while I sometimes see a glimpse of my former self, I mostly say "she's a cookie eater." Except I'm not. Well, not all the time anyway. I only allow myself indulgences one day each week. But for honesty's sake, I must admit that sometimes on that one day each week, I way overindulge. Not every time, but at least one third of the time.
Running. Sigh. Running and I are not friends, but we are going to have to at least learn to live together for a little while. Because one way or another, I will wear all my clothes again. I don't care if by the time I fit in them, they are no longer in style. I will walk out of the house in my vintage clothes with my head held high. Men will sing the song "Baby's Got Her Blue Jeans On" as I walk by. Er...okay, at the very least my husband will sing that song ;) Until then, get used to me, running because I am moving in for a while.