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Since I started living better, I have lost 7 pounds.
I also lost 7 pounds in the first 10 days back in 2010. Isn’t that interesting?
I’m exercising every day, and I’m sticking closely to the calorie limit I set for myself.
I haven’t done anything drastic, relying on baby steps that will easily become part of my life. I’m really pleased with my progress.
This healthier lifestyle feels comfortable. I feel like I never stopped being healthy in early 2010, never got pregnant, never ate bowl after bowl of ice cream, never stopped exercising.
Back then, I was using EA Sports Active to work out. I remember it being tough at first. I remember feeling like I was going to pass out afterward, and I remember collapsing onto the couch, totally out of breath and near complete exhaustion.
That hasn’t happened this time around.
In fact, after my Day 3 workout, I was feeling unchallenged; I’d barely broken a sweat.
I didn’t want to cheat myself, so I decided a custom workout was necessary to supplement my previous efforts.
I programmed a workout with all of my favorite activities – tennis, hitting targets, a long run (because I knew that would burn a lot of calories), and some upper body stuff.
What happened next was not my brightest move.
I cannot explain my actions, except to say that I must have been high.
Exercising hard, making your body work and sweat, can make you high, right? It’s the endorphins or something.
Anyway, I blame that for what I did next.
After exercising for a whole three days, I decided that I needed to add resistance to my upper body workout. You know, my second upper body workout in a half hour.
I grabbed my resistance bands, and I pulled. I stretched. I did shoulder presses and bicep curls and lateral something-or-others.
Exercise bands in hand.
When I was done with the second workout, I was tired. Sweat puddled on my skin. My clothes were dripping.
I was proud.
The next day, I was unable to move my neck. I’m pretty sure I pulled something doing all of those overzealous resistance band exercises.
I reclined on the couch, neck against an ice pack, head propped up on a soft pillow.
I was pathetic. Every time I picked up an arm or moved my head or sat up straight, I could feel every muscle from my skull to my ribs stretch and strain and groan. Exercising that day was completely out of the question.
I was a cliché, an overconfident exerciser motivated by a New Year’s resolution to lose weight.
I did not quit.
I wallowed for one day, lamenting my decisions made while high on endorphins.
The next day, I stretched my arms and shoulders and chest and back, and then I exercised.
But I didn’t use the resistance bands. I am dedicated, but I’m not an idiot.
© 2012, Tara Ziegmont. All rights reserved.