I had a pleasant creakiness last night after running. It made me feel like, yeah, I just did a big run with my group on a blustery raining night. And I rolled off the edge of the sidewalk onto my back (damage: where I think I dug my thumbnail into my middle finger) and survived it fine. Actually, the adrenaline of falling made the end of the run fly by. Iced my healing (I hope) plantar fasciitis. I am woman hear me roar, yadda yadda yadda...
Today, the creakiness has lost its smug allure. It's cold and grey, and I told myself I was going to the gym to do weights before lunch. Can you hear me pouting? Getting to the gym seems like the hardest thing to do today. I'd much rather go shopping, but I think I can drag this sorry middle aged butt in if I bribe myself with a Starbucks Grande sugar free Cinnamon Dolce Americano afterward. And then there is lunch, hooray
The glamour of the slim life!
The other tough thing I have to do is call a sponsee and see how she's doing. And while we are really good friends, I have to show some backbone and bring up her programme. Being a good sponsor is different from being a friend, and although I really do regard her as a friend, I am not doing her any favours by letting her slip through the cracks. A really big excuse for me would be to not push it because she's got some tough problems right now. Well, more than ever, she needs the structure to hold on to, otherwise it's just another unhealthy pattern that's dragging her down. Can I be tough? I guess I'll see. Tune back in tomorrow for another chapter of As the Stomach Turns...
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