Look the Part.

@postaday 267; #postaday2011.

#325, a work in progress. Always.

Yesterday I had a talk with one of my managers at work about my recent fitness conquests. She’s so encouraging. She’s a lot of fun and she often leaves me with something to think about. After Sunday’s 100-mile bicycle ride along bumpy Oahu roads, Monday’s launch of my #5Kin100days program, and last night’s masters swimming session, I lamented that I certainly don’t look the part of a fitness goddess. She didn’t disagree, and I’m OK with that.

My main problem is portion control and dang it I forgot my Granny Smith today! But I certainly am not going to give up. I loosely adhere to the Weight Watchers mantra that every day is a new beginning, and I shouldn’t beat myself up over past mistakes. I know that the good habits will win out.

In the meantime, although there is a bit of pain in the exertion of riding a bicycle up a grueling hill, the monotony of swimming lap after lap, and the searing of my lungs while trying to run, there is reward. At the end of a workout I feel good. Everyone feels good. And if you’ve done something that pushes you in the direction of being healthy, you’re also moving toward satisfaction and happiness.

Exercise is a confirmation to yourself and those you love that you are happy to be a part of their lives and you want that for as long as possible. But back to yesterday’s subject of being single versus being married, exercise is also one of those things you launch into when a relationship ends. It’s one of those things you do when you realize someone wasn’t treating you as well as they should have and you realize you need to make it up to yourself. I’ve been there: Isn’t it time to make ME happy?

And what happens? There you are minding your own business, shuffling along Kapiolani Park, your head in the zone, struggling to make it to the next telephone pole, each step an affirmation of your own self worth. You finish, you mop yourself off, you drink your G2 Gatorade, you give yourself an attagirl or an attaboy. Your skin looks rosy, your sweat shines, your thighs chafe a little less. You smile a little more. And what happens?

I love happy endings.

By lavagal

Hawaii Kai wife and mom. Melanoma Stage 3a Cancer survivor. English Language Arts teacher, English Learners Coordinator, and Paraprofessional Tutor. Super sub teacher. Dormant triathlete. Road cyclist and Masters swimmer. Gardener. Mrs. Fixit. Random dancer. Music Curator. A teenager trapped in an aging body. Did you know 60 is the new 40? It is.


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