Just Checking In...

I imagine that you, my millions of teeming (imaginary) readers are wondering where I've been. Is she quitting again? Already?!? Well, no. I'm not quitting. In fact, since I'm just doing a check-in, I might as well share a measure I'm taking to prevent quitting in the future.

First, a brief run-down: (1) I completed week six of the c25k. It's solid runs from here on out. Go, me! (2) My bike ride today included a couple of (mole)hills, but I survived and felt pretty darned good about it, after I got the first couple of (flat) miles out, that is. Why are the first few miles so hard? (3) I switched my weight training routine. Why, I realized, should I try to suffer through a month of a routine I loathed, detested, and clearly was not ready for? I have never struggled so much with actively avoiding a resistance routine, and I finally figured out that it was simply too hard for me right now. So I've switched to a routine using my new bright-yellow Lebert Equalizers. (I'll probably post a review of sorts after I use them for a bit longer.) One instant improvement: I'm willing to strength train again. So... things are going pretty well, overall.

Now, my preventative measure: I'm (hopefully) going to start therapy. Therapy? I hear you ask, Why therapy when you're back to doing things right? Well, the thing is that I've learned the pattern: I do great. Until I don't. I have no one to blame for the u-turn except for me, so I've got to work on fixing the problem before I hit the u-turn. If I wait until I change directions, then I simply won't get therapy. But, if I start going now and develop a relationship with a therapist, I figure, the groundwork will be laid so that I can break through that wall, rather than changing directions.

But it's all in your control, you scream, just choose to keep going rather than quitting! Yes, yes, I know that I control my destiny. I've done that for 37 years. Well, since my first diet - thanks to Mom - was at age nine, let's say 28 years. Nevertheless, I get to a point where I make stupid choices. I have no one but myself to blame, so... I guess I need to fix me! (Or, improve, at the least.)

Here's what I'm dreading about this decision: I have to get authorization from my physician. Yes, that will likely be fun. How I picture it:

Oh, look, you're fat again.

Yes, yes I am. But I'm doing something about it.

Well, here's how you should do it.

No, no thank you. I know how to lose weight. That's not the problem.

Clearly you don't, here's how to do it.

No, really, I do. I lost 50 pounds in the past this way, and I've lost over 20 pounds in the present this way. Eat healthfully, eat less, exercise more. It's pure math.

(Grudgingly) So why are you here?

I want approval to see a psychiatriatrist.

Why?

Because I want to finish this weight loss, not stall halfway through.

It's all about food choices.

Yes, I know.

So why the therapist?

Because I figure that if a sane person makes stupid choices for long enough, there must be something not quite right in that otherwise sane person.

But it's all about food choices.

Yes, I know.

So why the therapist?

Um... wait.. let me pick some other excuse for seeing a therapist...

Yes, I know it sounds as if I'm making a mountain out of a molehill, but you don't know this guy. We have a history. You can see it near the bottom of this post. I just hope that I can convince him that, in this, I am right, and I should be authorized to see a psychiatrist. Cross your fingers for me.