Plan B

I joined a gym.  Walked in, signed up, handed them my credit card and said, ‘how much for ten sessions with a personal trainer?’  I’ve set the alarm clock for 5:30 a.m. – yes – a.m. – and plan to be at this gym by 6:00 a.m. to sweat and strain my body.

Why?

·        Because I am 46 years old and I’ve noticed a subtle expansion around my waist.

·        Because I tried on my “comfortable” pants and they weren’t so comfortable.

·        Because my oldest child is getting married next spring.

·        Because when I look at pictures of myself – I don’t see the Me that I am seeing in my head. 

·        Because I want to go backpacking and hiking and kayaking and bicycling and scuba diving – and feel good afterwards.

I’m tired of feeling tired.  Drained. Fuzzy brained.  I understand that hormones are shifting and that stress is wreaking havoc with my body.  And I think I finally have had enough of trying to passively manage my health.  It doesn’t matter that I try to eat right most of the time – I’m eating badly part of the time.  Being practically comatose at 6 p.m. is not feeling quite right either.

I’m the only one who can choose to make this state of affairs different.  It's time for plan B.

My goal is to take back the image of my Self – and have it stare back at me in the mirror.  My goal is to build my strength to carry a forty pound backpack around the Rainier Wonderland Trail.  And finally, when my son gets married next year, I’m going to feel great about those wedding photos.