I finally weighed myself today. I was putting it off because I'm always sloshed up with post-workout hydration and such...that's a lie. That's what I told myself every time I saw the scale at the gym. I was putting it off because I was afraid that after all of the time that I have put into working out, I wouldn't see it reflected on the scale. I also know how much more muscle mass I have in my legs and arms that it might cancel out any fat loss. Out of curiosity tonight, I weighed myself. After all, what gets measured gets done. As it turns out, I'm down about 15 pounds. I am seriously so proud of that. I know I have a lot more to go but at this point, working out is a part of my life, not just a special effort or a temporary bender.
Going to the gym is my time. I do it for me. I do it because it is fun and social. Sure, my feet hurt afterward and I look like crap but I feel good. Also, when I go to the gym, I come home after a certain roommate is done in the common areas and I don't need to cross his path. I have a theory about this. Here is a graph on the relation between how much I enjoy my life and how much I see Time. Note the negative correlation. I need to stop focusing on him but wanting to avoid him makes decent motivation.
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