I’m thankful that I haven’t reached the level of insanity as the above sentiment has. That doesn’t mean I don’t regularly give it a damn good try.
Something I’ve noticed about myself over many years is that I tend to work best under pressure. Without a well defined goal closely in front of me, I am usually not motivated. I procrastinate like a professional. I’m that person who turned in papers due at 5 PM at 4:59:58. (Don’t want to cut it too close). If you ask me to do something without a deadline or without specified guidelines, it’s probably not getting done.
Meanwhile, I’m coping with this injury and getting back into the shape I know I can be in, and then it occurred to me:
What if I gained 10 pounds on purpose?
I am infinitely more focused than I was a week ago. Now I have something to work toward. Before, my race was a million miles away (it still is, by the way) and I am surrounded by end of the school year festivities. Am I so undisciplined that the idea of responsibly maintaining my weight is not enough to keep me motivated?
Also, when I posted on Facebook that I am staging my comeback, I got several likes. Guess who took that to mean her friends think she’s fat. And they let me walk the streets.