Motion in the ocean

A few weeks ago, I was sitting at work with nothing to do (as usual) except play around on the internet and plot my next revenge on Friend Lyzz, when I stumbled across something that made me gasp. The shock was so great, I couldn't turn away. It was like a train wreck, you don't want to look, but you have to.

There, in front of me, was a picture...of me. Taken in April at my old music fraternity's convention. And I. Was. FAT.

Yes, I can admit it. I wasn't exactly taking good care of myself. My exercise was at a minimum with hockey in the off season. My food choices, well, um, left something to be desired. And the way my clothes were fitting, well, let's just say that ignorance is bliss. But that picture. That picture right there in front of me didn't lie. It didn't look me in the eye and say no, really, you look great! Fat? I don't know what you're talking about. It was more like girl you better get your fat ass moving or you really will end up being the lonely spinster on the corner with 80 cats.

So I did something about it.

I've been faithful in my attendance at the gym (about 3 times a week). I'm not going to the vending machines at work anymore. And I've started running again. Really, I have. Despite the protestations of my knees, I'm running again. And it feels good. Just to make a goal for myself too, I've signed up for the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation's Race for the Cure (5k) in Baltimore this October. It's a good cause and it gives me a reason to continue to move...not as if seeing my fat ass in the mirror everyday wouldn't be motivation enough.

No I'm down about 10lbs from when I started. I feel good. Better but really, the point of it is more about me being healthy. And I wasn't healthy. All it took was that damn picture posted for the whole world to see to get my booty moving.