Five years ago I reached a breaking point. I'd had enough of being fat, out of breath, and looking and feeling like a frumpy old bag.
Five years ago I rejoined Weight Watchers for the umpteenth time.
Five years ago I started this blog.
A lot happened during those five years. I lost a lot of weight and made a number of life altering changes. I started running and living an active life. I became a happier, healthier Dillypoo.
And then 2013 rolled around and I started to lose my way. I made bad choices. I neglected my blog. I stopped running.
I started gaining weight.
The past few months have been emotional for me. I turned 50 without a lot of fanfare (by choice), the Professor made a lifestyle change that affects us both but which I didn't have much of a say in, and I had two health issues that I used as excuses to stop exercising.
Watching and feeling the weight creep on has been terrifying and paralyzing. I've had to buy bigger underwear and jeans two sizes bigger.
TWO SIZES BIGGER.
If I don't do something about it soon, then the last five years will be just a dream.
On New Year's Day, I weighed myself at home (I haven't been to a Club WW meeting in a month). I'm half way between where I was in January 2009 and when I reached my goal weight.
I weigh 172.2.
It's been five years, and I've reached that breaking point again. This week I purged the kitchen of all temptation and started tracking again. I stopped by the running store and signed up for the Cowtown 10K training group, and I joined a fitness club.
This morning I went for a 40 minute walk. I even ran a bit. It felt good to be out, even if my lungs and legs complained about the exertion.
I'm trying to keep my chin up and focus on the future, not the past few months. Because I can't go back to where I was five years ago.
The journey continues.