DAY 196: A waist is a terrible thing to mind

Sleep is so freaking important.

My body is very demanding about getting enough rest.  The sleep deprivation during my trip where the scale went up certainly had more to do with that unwelcome fluke than any other part of the equation.  I should have realized that was what was actually going on; I’ve had previous incidents of no movement on the scale that happened to coincide with weeks where I was not sufficiently rested.  This past weekend, with my race called off and my days occupied by a labor-intensive and time-consuming sewing project underway — honestly, can’t I ever pick something within my skill range?! — I am not ashamed to say I went to bed at 7:30 PM on Saturday night.  I slept 13 hours.  I needed every minute.  I also netted less mileage over those two days than I typically get in one day.  I needed every non-step.

Today, in spite of my oncoming “woman times” (Tina Fey, holla) and my near total inaction over the weekend, the scale gave up the pounds.  Yes, in one fell swoop.  Just like magic:  WOOSH, gone.

I don’t know why I keep falling victim to forgetting the most basic rule of all of this:  LISTEN TO YOUR BODY.  I know the difference between my body telling me it’s tired and my mind trying to laze out of a work-out.  I need to remember to act like it!

Beyond that, I need to check my self-competitiveness a little bit.  I keep wanting to shatter the daily goals Jiminy gives me.  Well, Jiminy knows best.  He’ll work me up to a higher goal when I need to set my sights higher.  For right now, hitting the goal is enough.  Over-exercising isn’t a fast track to weight loss in my case; it’s a counter-productive practice that just makes my body more tired and, consequently, more likely to hold on to the fat I’m trying to burn off.  I’m sorry, Jiminy.  You are my conscience, and I must always let you be my guide.  **bows humbly to the almighty VivoFit**

Finally, I have to keep exercise in a category of positive associations.  If I let it start becoming a stressful thing, it negates all the emotional, mental, and physical benefits it’s meant to produce.  Exercise has become my release at the end of the day for all the frustrating messes I deal with at work, my outlet for emotional sorting, and my solace from the people and things that would otherwise eat me alive.  I have to keep it in the sweet spot of being challenging, but not too difficult as to become another source of frustration; sacred, but not so obsessively that I become a slave to it.  It’s true what they say about us Libras:  we’re all about that balance, ’bout that balance (no trouble).

And now… sleep.  I’ve got a Diet Bet to win.  😀

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