babysteps

No, I haven't started running yet. I have no good reason why not. It's so strange - it's something I want to do, but I haven't just gotten out of the house and started it. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I have made a few baby steps, though. At the very least, I can say I've not given up the attempt yet. I got some supplies (shoes, shorts, foundation garment), and just a few minutes ago I blew away my record on the stair stepper. I have to share this. Typically, I only do 2-3 minutes on the wee stepping machine. I want to get my heartbeat up a bit, but not break out into a sweat that requires me to take another shower. But for some reason, today I did Ten Minutes. solid. continuous. I did that whole "getting past the wall" thing. It was pretty cool. Somewhere around 2 1/2 minutes, my heart started getting faster, and I felt like I'd want to stop any second, but I kept pushing for the next minute to click over. But I wasn't watching the clock. So after 2:30, the next time I saw was 3:15. then it got up near 4 minutes, and suddenly I wasn't feeling as tired anymore. Then it felt like my body settled into a groove and it was nice and comfortable, so I just kept going. Once I got up near 10 minutes, I realized I wouldn't reach a nice round number of steps by 10:00, so I really poured it on as much as I could. I hit 10:00 and kept going at speed until I reached the 700 steps mark.

I don't know if that's any good or not. It probably isn't - a measly ten minutes on a wee stair stepper? nuthin'. But to me it's a tiny milestone. I want to keep going. I still want to change the lifestyle. And I want to remember that there comes a point, after the initial drudgery, where it starts to feel good. Quite good, in fact.

In other news, I've been eating much better, ordering more fish and steamed veggies and less cheesesteak and mashed potatoes with gravy. I've cut out french fries, and cut wayyy back on the bread and cheese. If I eat out for lunch, I cut the entree in half when it arrives, and only try to finish the first half. The second half I take home for dinner. I don't have a scale, so I can't report pounds lost, but I feel different. My arms don't rub against my sides when I walk. My clothes aren't as tight and uncomfortable. I'm less shy about wearing shorts.

It's small progress, in a small battle. But it's progress nonetheless, and I need to recognize that moving forward is a good thing, no matter how slowly it happens.