Progress, bitches!

I can almost run 3 miles. I ran 2.5 the other day without stopping or vomiting. Yes, I recognize I’ve done almost all my running up to this point on a treadmill, and running outside is so much harder and stuff. But still! 2.5 miles! When I couldn’t even run for a minute 7 weeks ago. 60 seconds. That was my LIMIT.

This whole couch-to-5K thing knows what the fuck it’s doing! Now I’m also excited for the extra special super bonus of all this energy and strength I’ve got lying around. We went climbing for the first time in ages, and it was delightful! I am still on basic routes, but I don’t care. I enjoy the hell out of it, and it’s not so hard to lift my ass to that next hold anymore. Fuck yeah, progress!

And something kind of awesome happened this morning. I went into the kitchen, where the brother had put these tasty looking huge cinnamon rolls with dripping icing. And you know what? It actually didn’t look appetizing to me. When I saw it, I just thought “that’s not worth it to me.” And I used to pride myself on my shitty willpower! Now when confronted with tasty-bad-for-me-things, I can’t be bothered. Aside from the occasional cookie, of course. I’m not an ANIMAL.

I just don’t want to waste all this effort I’m putting into something. I’m excited when I see results, and I don’t want to stop!

Or perhaps my brain is starting to be smarter than my stomach. That’s how it works with my newly discovered lactose intolerance. I fucking love all things made with lactose. LOVE. But now I see a hunk of brie (and though I recognize it for it’s deliciousness) I quickly remember what that would do to my colon, and that makes it surprisingly unappetizing!

So keep on keepin’ on.

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Progress, bitches!

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