The Finish Line

I did a 5K on Thanksgiving morning, followed by swimming at the local swim park.  My niece, sister, and daughters and I have done this two years in a row as a good way to do something healthy on a traditional food holiday.  I'm not a runner; I walked the 5K, but it was still a good, healthy start to the holiday season.

This race, like all others, has a starting line and a finish line.  But I've come to realize that no matter how far I've come with weight loss and maintenance, there will never be a finish line.  I will always have to run this race.

I bring it up because I've really been struggling the last couple weeks.  I've had a "don't give a shit" attitude about food choices about 25% of the time.  The rest of the time, I've done fine, but it is inconsistent.  My exercise has been good, but since I work out outside and it is really cold, I haven't had much enthusiasm about it.  I'm still doing it, though.  The worst part has been how I feel in my head.  I was convinced that I've gained weight (I haven't) and I couldn't make myself get on the scale.  I looked in the mirror and thought I looked bigger.  I obsessed about how my pants fit, certain that they were tight. 

Hitting our weight loss goals doesn't mean we're done.  I know that's pretty obvious, but somehow I am able to go along pretty well for a good long time and then it hits me that I'll never be done.  I've been at goal for a year, but I will always struggle.  Weight issues are a part of who I am.  In some ways, it would be easier if we could just cross the finish line and be done, but there is a lot of personal growth that happens in the struggle.  I've heard recovering alcoholics say  that they are grateful for their alcoholism.  They appreciate that this flaw has made them a better person.  I think in times like this, I can see what they mean.

                                                        At the starting line with my youngest.

                                                     Ready to swim after the race!