My Triumphant Return

Yesterday, for the first time in over a month, I went back to the gym! I've been struggling with this weird anxiety about going back to the gym, but I know that I really need to spend some calories to reach my goal of weighing 146 pounds by September 20th. I finally just told myself, "Whitney this isn't going to be the best day at the gym ever in the world, and you're not going to be doing weights or spinning or something crazy like that. The goal is to show up."

And I did! I listened to some comedy I'd put on Dad's MP3 player, drank two bottles of water, and spent about 40 minutes between the treadmill and the stair machine. I burned 466 calories according to my heart rate monitor, and when I left, I felt like a million bucks. Except for my silly outfit, red face and sweaty ponytail hair, but whatever.

Something about working out always seems to make me want to eat healthier, though I've found that simply eating well doesn't make me want to work out. There's something about the concentrated, specific act of exercise, that makes me want to make more great choices while the day long choices involved in eating properly doesn't. Just changing your diet can make me feel smug or deprived, but it doesn't make me feel quite so energized.