Reset

As I was saying,  I found it was easy to keep not exercising once I started, er stopped, whatever.  Much like this blog grinding to a halt, so did my exercise.  What was just one week, turned into two, and finally three.  Three weeks of no real exercise, no Zombies, Run!, no run reports, no weigh ins, and no cares.  I had my blinders securely fastened to my noggin.  I let complacency slip back into my life.  My diet suffered.  I started breaking my cardinal rules: no fast food, no frozen pizzas, no ice cream.  Alas, perspective shifted, my stomach brain was happy.  Life was easier.
And then, people started asking questions,

 "When will you update your blog?"

"How's the weight loss going?"

"Who the heck is Bossk and why is he your favorite Star Wars character?"

(True story.)

And I took a good long look at myself in the mirror and asked myself a question, "Where am I going?  What happened to the running, the feeling accomplished, the pride?"  

And then I stepped on the scale in my bathroom.  Apparently, my pride did a little transmogrification (it's a word) and decided it preferred the form of fat around my belly.

(Form of, Triglycerides!  Worse episode ever.)

What did my scale tell me?  266.5 pounds.  In three weeks, I had effectively undone seven weeks worth of work.  Seven weeks, of writing, and sweating, and feeling good about myself.  I had hit the metophorical reset button.    

So, I find myself at a crossroad.  Do I let those giant clocks on either side of Mr. Freeze reach zero?  Do I give up the good fight and go back to my easy non-exercising life?  Or do I throw another token in the machine and press start?  Back to the sweating, and the discomfort, and the fight?  Do I begin the struggle once more? 

7...

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2...

1...

(clink)

Start.

- Louie