I’ve been replaced by a pod person. That’s the only explanation. Wait, is 38 too young for a mid-life crisis?
I woke up one morning and re-installed MyFitnessPal on my phone. I mean, sure, I’ve been doing morning walks, and enjoying the hell out of them. But I have always maintained that tracking what I eat sucks the joy out of eating. Worrying about numbers, worrying about whether or not I’m hitting some kind of goal, sends me into an obsessive depression cycle wherein all I can do is think about the numbers. The amazing, awesome, yummy food ends up being nothing but math. The joy of eating, of tasting, is gone. That’s how I always reacted.
And then I didn’t. I installed the app, tracked the food, and it still tasted just fine. I didn’t obsess. I added my weight, measured daily, to the list of tracked stuff. Nikki advised against it, but I wanted to see my daily fluctuation. I wanted to collate data, as they say. I turned on the pedometer function of my phone, until I got birthday money from my parents. Then I went out and bought a Fitbit Flex, adding my sleeping patterns to what I was tracking.
The momentum kept going (as momentum is wont to do). After a week of looking at my sleep patterns – or lack thereof – I dug out my year and a half old prescription for a new CPAP mask, took it in to my doctor, and had it updated. (I really want one of these.)
I get excited to use my new lawn mower, and to haul things around in the yard. I’m taking the kids out on evening walks ON TOP OF my solitary morning ones. They love it. I love it. Who am I?
I’m not quite sure, but I’m going to keep going. I’m enjoying this and I’m feeling good.