The Opposite Of Progress

"Does that work?"
"Yeah, you just have to kick it."

I saw the scale on the floor of the warehouse, and thought, Why not?

I should have just kept walking.

Then again, maybe I'm better off knowing for sure.

It was as I expected; not good.

Two weeks of vacation. The busy season kicking in. Stressing about work. Stressing about money. And sleep as an absentee friend.

Of course I gained weight. I had decreased my workouts from 5-6 times a week to once or twice. I haven't been able to dine at home more than one meal a day since before April.

Imparted with this knowledge, the next day I ventured back onto the treadmill. I warmed up for a quarter mile, then ran my normal thirty minute routine. I had to skip a bit of the jogging, but I finished.

Still, I felt deflated. I figured this was a perfect time to wallow. I tried to cry and stay sad for my twenty minutes.

But I ended up cheating. I texted friends. I felt shitty when they didn't respond, which in turn helped me wallow more.

And then I danced, smiling and laughing and tossing my hair about. I sat with DeepEnd and ate my lunch, a salad. And afterwards I rigged.

I used my new hemp, playing around, trying different body positions and points on my
frame to hang from.

And then, in a moment of happiness, it hit me: I was still stronger and more fit than when I started this journey so many months ago. I did not tire out. My legs, though aching from effort, endured all I asked of them. Yes, I'd gained a little back, but I had not lost the stamina I'd worked hard to build up.

Every busy season is the same. I want to do X. I get huge amount of work Z. In the end, I land somewhere in the middle, Y.

So I've got to get myself into training mode again. Shibaricon is less than three weeks away (HOLY SHIT!) and I want to be ready, more than ready, for a weekend of awesome rope-y fun.

Because, despite what some might think, big girls can, and love, to fly too.