Lately, I’ve felt just completely confident about this weight loss thing. I am going to get to my goal, no question. Only 30 pounds left? It’s going to happen sooner rather than later.
I find myself caring less and less about the number. Yes, I definitely want to reach it, but I’m not anxiously awaiting the next lost pound anymore. Now the lost pounds are just the icing on the cake.
I’m far more interested in improving my physical abilities at this point. Running 2 miles last week, running two 12 minute miles today, feeling the incredible difference in my overall cardiovascular health… it’s so clearly much more important.
Eating healthy, getting the right nutrition in the right quantities… it’s so clearly more important.
How little that number on the scale really means in the grand scheme of things. I mourn all the wasted hours I spent caring about it, obsessing over it, feeling ashamed of it, frantically trying to reduce it and feeling like a failure for increasing it. What an incredible waste of time and energy.
When I was learning to play the guitar, did I worry about the NUMBER of songs I could play? Of course not. How asinine would that have been?
Anyway, 210! 77 pounds down, 30 to go. Just the icing on the cake.