With 2016 fast approaching (I started this days ago… 2016 is in fact now just hours away!) it seems time to accept, and admit to, the hideously unavoidable truth.
2015 has seen me “Let it go”.. And, I’m ashamed to say, NOT in a Disney way! It started in 2014 which was, in all honesty, a year from hell. But I have let it continue.
I’m talking weight.. 2015 has been the year of the increasingly lardy arse! Yep, on top of the ‘baby’ weight (using that term loosely as the baby is now 2!!) I already hadn’t lost, I have successfully collected more.
In 2015 I lost months due to injury and feeling sorry for myself, and more time not being 100% well for a variety of reasons.
The injury was very real and physio has helped to heal me. If I’m honest it was in part caused by running too much, too soon after my second pregnancy. It gauls me to admit this though as, at the time, I really didn’t feel like I was doing too much.
The other stuff…. Well, with The Husband working in London it does somewhat restrict my training options. But then I could still train late.. Or really early….
And my general health? Well, it really hasn’t been great this year. Not in an identifiable way but I’ve just felt very unwell, including having constant flu like aches and pains, most of the year. The GPs have run test after test but everything comes up ‘normal’.
I despise visiting the GP and avoid it at all costs. I tend to only go when my repeat prescriptions need renewing so the fact I have been pursuing this throughout the year is a statement in itself. Feeling utterly and constantly pants and being told there’s nothing wrong so it’s probably just my age (!) is a mixed blessing. Of course it’s good to know I’m basically fine but that doesn’t explain why I feel so rubbish.
Then of course there are the ‘normal’ demands on my time. Housework, homework, chores, kids social and sporting engagements yada yada yada.
Putting all of this to one side I have to accept that 12 months ago I was running half marathons whilst now I struggle to lace my trainers up ( I kid you not…. There’s too much tummy for me to reach my toes for a starter!).
One thing I never wanted to be was middle aged and overweight. Yet here I am in exactly that situation.
It’s obvious. I need to just push through the utter exhaustion, the muscle aches and pains, the sore back, the foggy head and (wo)man up.
I need to stop using The Husband’s job as an excuse not to exercise.
Likewise the fact that I have been awake since 6am, battled with the kids before and after a full day at work, attempted to restore some order to the house, made sure school and nursery bags are emptied and restocked, completed homework by the due date, moved the endless laundry through the next phase of the never ending wash, dry, iron, put away cycle.
I have to ignore the fact that all I really want to do at 8pm is collapse in to bed and sink into a deep sleep before it all starts again.
I need to stop feeing guilty if I spend time away from the house, the girls and the Husband. Because, whatever else I might say, or what impression I might give, I DO feel endlessly guilty that I don’t do anything well enough – especially parenting!
I need to organise myself in the evenings so that I have healthy food ready, each day to ensure I’m not getting to 3pm having eaten either nothing or a few biscuits, before grabbing an unhealthy option from the Co-op next to work!
I need to commit to training regularly and do it no matter what.
I need to reprogramme myself back to my pre-baby mindset where exercise was something I loved to do because it made me feel good, not just something else to shoehorn into my day.
I need to stop feeing envious of the people around me who appear to be effortlessly slim and channel that energy into positive activities that yield results. (Yes, I know envy is a horrid and pointless emotion).
Ultimately I hope that by being a little bit selfish and spending time on myself, I’ll eventually start to feel better. Not just aesthetically – of course that would be nice, nobody likes feeling unattractive and invisible – but emotionally and physically too.
This is NOT a NY resolution. As a rule I don’t make them as I feel they’re generally a self fulfilling prophecy of failure.
It’s simply recognition that;
It’s time to stop blaming baby weight, PND and my under active thyroid (it’s going nowhere so I have to live with it!) for everything.
It’s time to accept that my passion for crisps, chocolate, gin and wine isn’t helping me in any way.
It’s time to rediscover the buzz of training hard and achieving results that make me proud of myself instead of ashamed.
P.S. If you’ve got this far, fair play to you! Please understand this isn’t a ‘poor me’ post fishing for compliments. It’s an honest summary of things as I see them.