I jogged outside today.
Quite the different experience than being inside on my happy little treadmill. On my treadmill, I jog three miles at about a 10-minute mile. Outside, I ran twenty steps and felt like my heart was going to explode.
Inside, I give myself mental pats on the back as I gently increase the treadmill incline, pushing myself to go harder.
Outside, I decide to call it quits when I'm faced with having to step around a small rock.
Inside, my water bottle and tissue are at my beck and call.
Outside, I swallow snot and make gasping noises to people mowing their yards, in the hopes they'll turn the hose on me and I'll swallow a few drops.
Why is it so much harder? I'm probably stretching it to say I even ran ("ran" meaning did not stop moving but not necessarily implying, once again, that I could have outpaced that garden slug)) two miles today. Apparently my treadmill has super-bouncy action in it and the lesson here is I must never ever go outside to exercise ever again.
SOUTHBEACH UPDATE: Does of woe and glory. Broke down and had a couple peanut-butter sandwiches. Dear Lord I LOVE peanut butter sandwiches! Blair decided he needed to be supportive of me though, and so this week has gone above and beyond the call of duty and has brought no bread into the house, even for him. I'm married to a prince.
We went out for brunch today and instead of having what may be the world's best french toast, I had a spinach omelet (with egg-beaters) instead. It was pretty good. Plus, I had a bite of Blair's french toast so I didn't completely lose out.
I don't know that I'm being good enough at this point to lose weight, but I do feel MUCH better with the healthier eating. Normally I roll myself away from the brunch table at this particular restaurant, full to the point of nausea. Today, while still very full, I felt good. Still had energy and didn't feel gross.
Two steps forward, one step back, but still making progress.