Patting myself on the stomach, I wonder how long it will take me to undo the damage I've inflicted on myself. In line with my decision to cut myself a little slack lately, I refrain from thinking too hard on it.
I have added chocolate and too many refined carbs back into my life. I feel obliged to mention my addiction to lasagna. I have even occasionally replaced my morning yogurt and blueberries with a muffin [gasp].
If you eat a muffin you might as well be eating cake, they say. "They".
Fine then. So I've been eating cake. And I haven't been spending much time at the gym. My foot is much better, and I can ride the stationary bike no problem, but I just do not love it like I love other things.
I spent the summer and the fall running outside, down maple-lined streets and ravine trails, and playing tennis on any public court we could find. In the past I have turned to spinning in the winter and have been a big fan, but I have not been ready to go back this year. I feel too delicate somehow for the loud music and the instructor yelling into his microphone. I do not crave that kind of motivation.
I guess I fell in love with being outside this year and I have yet to come to terms with the winter. I can still see the freckles on my shoulders if I look close enough.
Now being outside, trudging through the December snow, the cold is almost painful. I want to grow a love for that too, but I can not quite find the right angle. I never have. Even my rasta-hat that I bought back in August [which Harry calls my babushka] is not enough. Close though. Good intentions. So help me I'm trying.
Soon I will be away, out of my element [and 'the elements', hopefully]. For now I permit myself to take it easy. Maybe today I will go to yoga.
I can see something on the horizon. Can not yet make out what it is.