I didn’t walk today. Well, okay, I ambulated, I got around, but I didn’t do my usual morning walk. Woke up late, felt a little lazy, just blew it off.
And I actually felt kind of guilty about it.
Not in a cast my eyes skyward and curse my flabby self way. There’s no self-loathing going on here. It was more a sort of disappointment with myself. I justified it by reminding myself that I’d walked almost fourteen miles over the last four days, and over a holiday weekend at that. But the lack of a walk and its resultant additional calories had me extremely paranoid about what I ate today. I can usually burn off around 200 calories on a weekday, and without that cushion, everything I wanted to eat seemed like a time bomb. Pair that with the fact that my most recent weigh-in had me down only one pound, and I was feeling fat and awkward all day, even though I really had no reason to.
Leave it up to my friends at my game tonight to shake me out of it. I mentioned my guilt over not walking this morning and how it made me feel bloated, and one of them said I definitely looked a lot thinner since they last saw me a week or so ago. He and another friend said I should just stand next to them if I felt fat and I’d see how off-base I was. I’ve got raw data proving I’ve lost weight, but someone else’s perception is always a welcome boost.
And perception is the hard thing right now. After so many weeks of seeing two pounds reliably drop away, losing only one pound would have been really easy to view as a kind of defeat. Which would be the worst thing in the world to do. Because next would be a sense of futility, then more skipped walks, and all the work I’ve done over the last three months would unravel. I can’t look at it as “only” one pound. It’s “another” pound. It’s not a speed bump or a step back, but another step on the path.
I just need to get my ass back out walking that path tomorrow.