I have a bad habit of beating myself up. When I screw something up, no one can make me feel worse than I make myself feel. That whole “You are your own worst enemy” is pretty accurate on a number of levels for me. In this case – I’m whipping my own ass pretty hard.
Warning: this post will be filled with angsty complaining and berating of myself, even though the scale only really moved a few pounds. Realistically, I’m aware that I’m overreacting.
I feel lousy, only this time it has nothing to do with The Ick (which is mostly gone now, woohoo!!) and everything to do with the really crappy eating I have been doing for the past few weeks. After months and months of healthy eating, I blew it the moment I went on vacation and haven’t gotten back on track since I was sick and eating whatever felt good on my scratchy, raw throat.
I knew when I went on vacation that doing my healthy regime was going to be hard. They don’t eat the most healthy diet and with their schedule being literally night to my day…it was just going to be super difficult. I’m willing to accept that.
And I came home sick, so I should really cut myself some slack….but my jeans feel snug and I feel lethargic, and the short term rewards aren’t worth these long term hate sessions on myself.
Starting Monday, we start again. It’s back to training like I am supposed to be doing and eating the way I’m supposed to be eating. I have races coming up that I want to do well in, and I have clothes I want to rock and I want to be able to walk to the pool without feeling self conscious like I did a month ago.
Time to kick my own ass back into submission.