Goonies Never Say Die.

So, it's like I forgot--or forgot to mention--that I had a pretty major vacation coming up in October. We went on our annual fling to Universal Studios, staying at Hard Rock Hotel. We have a great time there, and eat things like popcorn, beer, pizza, beer, free cookies, free breakfast, and free evening "snacks" accompanied by free beer. Somehow, even though you walk for miles at an amusement park, mysteriously you never lose weight while there. I can't figure it out (did I mention "free beer")?

I don't know how I thought I was going to eat basically Zero Sugar through the month of October with that on the horizon. Needless to say, I ate sugar--lots of it. And when I got back, I didn't stop. I was feeling pretty durn bad about myself a couple of days ago, starting to think things like "maybe I'm just a fat person at heart... maybe this is just who I am and I should stop fighting it... maybe I'm happier this way."

But of course, I wasn't happy at all. After a long, difficult, stressful day at work, my natural tendency has become to come home and either 1. lay down on the couch, 2. lay down in bed for an actual nap, or 3. start drinking beer. Seriously, are these the actions of a happy person? Somehow I had convinced myself that since this was the path of least resistance, it was the best I could do.

What I had forgotten about was momentum. Now, momentum is caused a little bit by eating right (which I've been doing off and on for months), but what really gets momentum going is exercise. I had decided that I needed to get to eating right consistently before I would add exercise, because that's what I did such a long time ago when I succeeded in losing 70 pounds. Turns out that's not the best idea, because I wasn't getting the momentum--physical momentum caused by endorphins that charge up your psyche and leave you wanting more--and emotional momentum caused by knowing for sure that you can physically achieve something.

When I woke up yesterday morning I decided the only way I would definitely get to the gym is if I asked somebody to make me go there. There's a guy at work who goes to the gym every day at lunch (free gym in our building), so I asked him to drag me along. Didn't care when it was, but when he came to tell me to go I would go. And I did. It was awesome, and it changed my whole day. I sweated, became exhausted, ate lunch, had energy, and kept having energy all the way until it was time to go to bed. At home, I did dishes, played drums (haven't done that in months), joked with the kids, folded laundry, and had a great evening with Bryan. At around 10 o'clock I could feel my legs and my whole body being really tired--for all the right reasons.

Now, I know I will continue to ebb and flow, and sometimes I'll ebb all the way down to complete misery, but... the difference between me and a truly miserable person is that I will never stop trying. I won't give up. I don't quit. I might go a week where all I eat is Twix and I hate myself, but that week will come to an end, I will come to my senses, and I will get back on the right track. Goonies never say die.