I runned fast to be better than I used to be. It is out there on the road where I find myself arguing with my thoughts. Where is the finish line?

Tuesday, April 19, 2016

Why God?


I get so mad at the scale. The ginger in me comes out when the number is the same. Same! I have worked so hard in the last two weeks. I want to throw that evil thing across the room. Sigh.

No pounds off the booty. However, I have lost inches. I guess that counts. My coach said to "shad up" about the scale and in fact, don't use it but once a month. I am obsessed. I have to use it every day. I feel better. My pace is better.

I don't like how I look.

It is killing me.

Clean eating and exercise feeds the soul. Unfortunately, at my age, everything is harder and takes longer. Why, God?

That's all I have to say about that.

1 comment:

  1. Muscle weighs more than fat. If you're losing inches and your weight remains the same, that's absolutely outstanding. You're clearly making more and better progress than most anyone.

    Except me, but then I train on gin martinis. Taken straight up, stirred, dry as high school history, and just as cold as a banker's heart. A Republican banker.

    Any bartender who shakes my martini will get it sent back so hard it'll leave welts. I think the practice started with Ian Fleming when he had bond order his dry martini shaken, not stirred. What he didn't say was that Bond was drinking a cocktail that was six parts dry vermouth to one part gin, in which case shaking it is acceptable. I use an eyedropper for the vermouth, hence the stirred, not shaken, directive.