I went into today thinking that this would be my triumphant-return-to-Curves post. It has been about 3 months since I have gone in to work out & at this point it is more a mental battle than a physical one that is keeping me away.
- I feel stupid.
- Everyone is going to ask where I've been.
- I'm going to have to grapple with how much muscle I've lost.
- I'm going to have to face the music & be measured.
Curves was an instrumental part of my process in Year One. The informal atmosphere & the highly structured program were exactly what I needed to take my first baby steps into exercising. I was clueless as to what to do, but if I just went around the circle a few times I would work all of the major muscles groups & I would be moving, which was something. Gradually, the inches started to melt & I had muscles I never would have dreamed of. I wasn't killing myself, pumping iron, but I was definitely sculpting in a realistic way.
Somewhere along the way I stopped appreciating that. I got seduced by the bang-for-your-buck calorie burn of running & cardio. Now I'm noticing the effects as my skin isn't tightening like it was & I'm not dropping inches like I was. This was supposed to be my morning to get back into the routine.
Then I got a meager three hours of sleep last night & the wheels came off of my day before they even had a chance to get rolling. I gave in to the excuse of being tired. Then I ate a lunch that was too heavy & didn't want to visit Ursula on a full stomach. Then I jumped into a bag of Pretzel M&M's because my day was forsaken.
Instead of triumphantly heralding my return to Curves & weight training, I'm saying that I miss it, I need it, & I'm headed that direction on Monday. I'm looking forward to adding weights back into my regular routine: caution, dangerous Curves ahead.