Dearest Rachel –
I opened my eyes this morning to the usual darkness; there wasn’t much for me to see, even if I were to bother to put my glasses on. I didn’t even bother to check the time first, as I could hear the rain on the bedroom roof. It didn’t sound as if I would be going to the gym this morning – at least, not on foot.
Now, you’d think this would be something I would be happy about. I’ve made it abundantly clear that I’m not really fond of going; the only gratification I get out of it is when I get home and step on the scale, and see the results in the form of a few lost pounds. Then again, that may be sufficient in terms of encouragement, especially considering that I’d already skipped out yesterday and eaten at the folks’ last night. Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against going there, and certainly enjoy Mom’s cooking; but that’s the very problem.  I usually find myself several pounds heavier than the day before when I check myself on Friday morning. 
Interestingly enough, today wasn’t quite as bad as most Fridays in that respect; I’d only tacked on half a pound from my Thursday morning weigh in. Guess I managed to show the proper amount of restraint while still eating enthusiastically. Still, it was over the two-ten line I’d prefer to be under by now, so that meant I’d do well to get back into the routine of walking uphill for four miles or so.
Except… I could still hear the rain on the roof. And I wasn’t going to walk there in the rain.
This probably doesn’t bode well for my resolve once winter gets here; if a light shower (which is basically all it was) is enough to convince me to stay home, how much less likely am I to head over there when it’s below freezing, and the sidewalks are covered with snow? For all that I hear of people registering for gym memberships with the beginning of the new year (as part of their annual resolutions), only to peter out after a month of discovering how hard it is, the thought of starting out in the dead of winter adds a degree of difficulty to that resolution that strikes me – especially at this point – as downright impossible.
Then again, I’ve been at this for a couple of years, now. Sure, it’s been easier in places like the ship, where the gym is close at hand and the weather only ran from perfect to hot and muggy at worst. But if I can deal with hot and muggy, I should be able to bear up through cold and rainy, right?
Or maybe I won’t have to. After drawing myself back into bed for an hour or so, I wake up yet again to relative darkness… and silence. The rain has stopped, at least for the moment. It takes a while to get myself going – between my usual lack of motivation and the distraction of my newsfeed, it takes longer than you’d expect (or maybe not; you knew me well enough to know the things that could distract me) to get dressed and out the door – but I’m there before six-thirty and home again by eight. I’m back under two-ten for the moment – if only by the same margin I was over the mark when I first woke up – and all is more or less right with the world, and I can get on with my day.
I know this has been a short letter, honey, but these are how the days go. I’ll have more to tell you about soon enough, I’m hoping (although sometimes, the fact that stuff is happening around me gets in the way of me telling you about it), but until then, keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 