I was given a nice box of chocolate truffles today. So want to eat more. I had three. I don’t know how many calories they were and I’m not asking. When I got the box and saw the tag the first thing I started to do was drool. I knew just how much awesome was in the box. And the second one was “here we go…it has started.” Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m very grateful for the gifts and goodies. I’m not complaining. The biggest problem is the fact that I can’t control myself sometimes. I just can’t. And it’s my fault, not the fault of those who lovingly give the gifts of delicious awesome. And Sven and I are working things out. Or at least trying to.
Last night I was able to do about 25 slow (I mean very slow) minutes on my one buck bike. I’ve been noticing an improvement in how my knee is healing when I do this. I also broke down and dusted off my old weight bench. I’ve hardly used it since I had a gym membership. And then after getting sick and that junk, I haven’t used it. I limped into what was supposed to be my weight room and is now a storage room. I moved a few things around and picked up the bar. I tried out a few bicep curls, wrist curls, shoulder presses and shrugs. Honestly, 40lbs felt heavier than it used to. I went from curling 120lbs to just feeling through the weight of the bar. So not pushing myself like I said I would.
I’m going to do this. I keep telling myself, I’m going to do this. I’ve started putting money away to get back my gym membership. I know it’s important to me. I know it’s something I need. But I need to heal and heal at a pace that is good for me to heal at. And it’s so stinkin frustrating that I can’t heal as fast as I want to. Of course, if I had just let go of my pride and used crutches in the first place…yeah, coulda/woulda/shouldas don’t help in times like this.
So, I’m limping along. I’ll be fine. I really will. What I need to do is remind myself who is in control. Me. Not my gut. Not my sweet tooth. Me. And I am doing this to be healthy. And I’m being healthy because I know I need to glorify God with all of who I am–including my body (and especially my gut). Erg… I hate emotional eating though.
I keep thinking of this verse, a verse that drives me:
Therefore, I do not run like a man running aimlessly; nor do I fight like a man beating the air. No, I beat my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize. 1 Corinthians 9:26-27
I will run the race, I will fight as a true fighter. I will win my battle against myself and not be disqualified…now where did I hide those truffles?? SVEN!!