OK, so here's the sitch: Two weeks of bona fide running workouts and the scale hasn't budged. It's as if my body is saying: "New job, big change, no way am I gonna let this go!" (Or maybe she's saying: "You can run all you like. As long as you keep eating cookies, ice cream and pizza to your heart's content, I'll be content hanging onto this comfy poundage, thankyouverymuch!")
I'm really fine with how I look. I mean, sure, I'm 20 pounds up from my vegetarian apex last fall. But even so, I'm still 20 lbs ahead of where I was a year ago. And my height works to my advantage -- 20 pounds on me "blends in" better than on a shorter person.
The problem is that the pounds are literally weighing me down when I run. And want to run. I love to run. Would I choose to carry two 10-lb weights with me on a 5-mile jaunt? Of course not! But I am, essentially. I just need to remember this next time I'm tempted by one of the weird ice cream flavors Tom brings home from the grocery store. (Curse you, BOGO!)
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