Dearest Rachel –
I’ve mentioned before – and you remember from the twisted Christmas carols we used to listen to, particularly on our way to and from your parents’, back in the day – how the past couple of weeks’ holidays do a number on one’s resolve toward keeping fit. Bad enough that the weekend isn’t particularly conducive to hitting the gym as a matter of course; with the holidays smack in the middle of the week, both its hours and mine are thrown off substantially when it comes to working out during the week, as well. And let’s not forget the indulgences provided by one holiday party and another (some of which I prepared myself) that just compound matters; not only am I working out less, I’m eating more, and heavier, food. Sure, in theory I could say ‘no,’ but let’s face it; who wants to do that?
As a result, it should come as no surprise that, as this new year begins, I’m toeing a mark I’d hoped I’d left behind for good; the scale is giving me numbers the exceed two twenty-five. Sure, it’s still ten pounds less than my driver’s license (which reminds me, I’m going to have to get that renewed before long), but it’s more than twenty pounds higher than my nadir, which at this point was well over a year ago.
To be sure, that was a one-off, after a weekend fast, followed by a strenuous workout, and I actually suffered a bit for it in the moment. Even Lars suggested that I’d pushed myself too hard all at once. Once I’d recovered from overdoing things like that, I stabilized around the two-ten mark, meaning that right now, I’m really only fifteen pounds heavier than what I’m capable of getting down to. But regardless, I haven’t been in that territory for what seems like a year at this point (although, going over my records, it’s more like half that; still, the point stands).
Of course, the holiday season is a time for overdoing things in the opposite fashion, which partially explains where I am now. Mind you, today sees me over this line by a mere half-pound, compared to yesterday when I was two pounds over. Still, over is over, and it’s not a place I want to be. Admittedly, a good workout would correct this, and – since there’s no Bible study this morning, just a few guys hanging out at a local pancake house – I could skip the one and do the other without thinking I was eschewing my weekly requirement. At the same time, while I don’t hold weekends sacred as ‘a time of rest,’ I’m loathe to put myself through those paces over them unless absolutely necessary; I’ve yet to determine what constitutes ‘absolutely necessary.’
If anything, since I’ve been assigned to the booth this weekend, I should probably get back to an attempt at fasting. Lars has been expressing approval regarding my physical endurance lately, but has been making noises about the need for me to start watching what I eat that much more. He’s been noticing that I’ve been a little less careful when we go out for lunch after our walks; and I can’t deny that such exertion has done things to my appetite. The more I work out, the more my body seems to want to consume, and it’s not like I have any lack of funds or availability that forces me to refuse myself. It’s a simple matter of willpower, and ironically enough, while I discipline myself towards physicality, I lose my grip on saying “no” to one food or another, considering it a just reward for my efforts.
At least with a weekend of relative indolence, seated at my post in front of the various computer and camera screens, I know I’m not doing much to ‘earn’ any such reward, so perhaps I can actually go for an entire day without eating. I can barely remember when the last time I actually got through a full day like that; twenty-four hours, sure, but from waking up one day to heading to bed that same day? Not hardly. I’m sure I could rifle through these letters where I may have told you about doing such, but figuring out the last time I did that? Not worth the trouble; it’s time to get back to that again.
Of course, telling you about this plan doesn’t mean it’ll happen, but by doing so, I’m asking you and everybody reading over your shoulder to hold me accountable for this. The idea is that if I do so, I’ll think twice about breaking this should I get bored and ‘mouth-hungry,’ as we used to put it, some time tomorrow. Hopefully, by doing this, and by following through, I’ll have some results to report back to you about come Monday – at which point, I’ll probably reward myself, and everything goes away yet again.
Still, before I start in on this, I ought to at least make myself breakfast today; if nothing else, I should finish up what milk we have left, since it’s getting close to its expiry date. In any event, it will be less calorie-dense than any pancake smothered in syrup. Keep an eye on me, honey, and wish me luck; I’m going to be needing it.
Letters to Rachel 