Breaking Training

Dearest Rachel –

Thanks to the effects of this cold – symptoms such as coughing, congestion and sneezing, combined with more peripheral effects such as body aches and a general malaise, not to mention the concern about further contagion – this is the third morning in a row in which I haven’t made it to the gym. Once upon a time, this would hardly be considered remarkable; you would hardly have expected me to darken the doors of such a place, as would I. But now, I’m starting to get concerned that this avoidance – however necessary for now – of such regular exertion is going to set back the last two and a half years’ worth of progress.

Oh, I realize that can’t happen immediately, but I’m getting to the point where the slightest reduction in effort causes me to fear I’ll get used to the lessened regime, and that would be the first step on the slippery slope back to where I came from. If nothing else, I assume that it would take much less time (and certainly much less effort – indeed, none at all, almost by definition) for me to revert back to what I was than it did to get me to this point in the first place. If I get paranoid about the first step, it would prevent me from taking any further ones.

And yet, at the same time, I don’t always like having to put myself through all this; all the restrictions and boundaries I have to set around myself to stay on the straight and narrow are, let’s just say, confining. I’m already somewhat dismayed at Lars’ insistence that I need to focus that much more on my diet, as well as regular exercise. I’ve told you about how I felt when I was first prescribed lisinopril, and how I thought mournfully to myself, “ugh, now I’m going to have to be taking this stuff for the rest of my life?”

To be sure, this whole journey has allowed me to wean myself off those pills, but now, having to apply that same mentality in reverse towards things I like is every bit as oppressive. For all that I told myself that I was going to treat myself to a deep dish pizza upon returning to Chicago from the cruise, I have yet to do so (although I’ve made a certain level of commitment toward that end, since I bought a couple of gift cards for one of the better-known chains in the area offering the dish – and, after doing sushi with Junior and Nicole last month, making an informal promise to treat them to it in turn, I think I’m still going to go through with this), and to think that I’ll essentially have to give this up as unhealthy for the rest of my life rather galls me. What’s the point of a long and healthy life, if you can’t enjoy the things you enjoy about it?

Although, speaking of the cruise, I think that’s pretty much where it started regarding exercise. Up until then, I think I would’ve considered three times a week at the gym to be more than sufficient – and I could rarely achieve even that. But considering the abundance of rich food available to me there, I decided I would need to work out every day that we weren’t ashore (while assuming I’d be doing plenty of walking, at the very least, whenever we were in port, so it wouldn’t be necessary to put in so much effort on those days). And while I couldn’t adequately monitor the results in real time (since when the ship was in motion, I couldn’t get a proper read on a scale), I knew it was at least keeping me from losing ground on my goal of losing weight. Once I got home, it was almost natural to keep it up, especially with a place that is situated barely a little further than the length of the ship away from the house (although it does require more exposure to the elements than aboard ship to get there).

So this whole staying away for three days straight (and possibly four, as Sunday is iffy at best; if Logan is home, he and Daniel hang out, giving me leeway to disappear if I should so choose, but he’s with his family over Yom Kippour, so I may be hanging out with Daniel just to keep him occupied) is concerning, especially considering the fact that I got real hungry last night. There’s been a place offering a bargain on New York style pizza, and I suggested we check it out; he’s not much for deep dish (which might also go a ways towards explaining why I haven’t had any since getting home), but a large pepperoni isn’t something he’ll turn down.

I meant to only have a couple of slices, honey, but I wound up completely demolishing my half. So between the lack of exercise, and what to anyone’s reckoning would be considered overeating last night, I’ve really been breaking training. I was not looking forward to checking myself out before getting showered and dressed before this morning’s Bible study.

Lo and behold, though, I actually tipped the scales this morning at two-thirteen – and even dropped another pound after washing off (not sure how that worked, but I’m not about to complain). Sure, it’s still over two-ten, but these days, I’m only able to get there after a workout, and having not done so for all this time, I would expect to be so much worse off. And yet, here I am, after all that, maintaining my position.

All of which is not to say I should get complacent; it may be that I’ve wasted a worry about my current situation, but that doesn’t mean I can keep this up indefinitely. Much as I might rather not, I’ll need to get back to my routine, sooner rather than later. It’s still nice to know that this little – and necessary – diversion from the regimen isn’t costing me as much as I feared it might.

And with that having been said, honey, I’ll still ask you to keep an eye on me, and wish me luck, as I’m still going to need it, regardless.