The impossible can always
be broken down into possibilities.
~ Author Unknown
What a week. I'm busy all day long, every day, and it seems like something needs attention every time I turn around. I don't even have a written-out to-do list, I just know that when one thing gets done, something else is right behind it.
I didn't used to feel like this. There was a time when I would plop down on the couch with a book or a magazine and read – guilt-free – all afternoon. I'm not sure when things changed, or why. I still read, but now it's only a couple pages right before I go to sleep. I have three months' worth of magazines to go through and quite a collection of books on the Nook, all waiting for their fifteen minutes at the end of the day.
My plan to drink more water, cut out snacks, start a strength-training program and take a daily four-mile walk has worked out well so far, and the accountability part of it – the daily Stats post – has been very helpful. I'm sure it bores you, if you even read it. And I'm sure you're not going to beat me up or make fun of me if I sputter or falter.
Yesterday proved to me how valuable that post is. I was very tired after a morning in the garden and could easily have justified that work as at least as valuable as a walk. I was smart enough to do the lower-body workout before I went out to the garden, I can almost guarantee I wouldn't have done any squats or lunges afterward.
The impossible (referred to in today's quote) is, of course, getting back to a somewhat normal weight for a woman my age and height. The possibilities are working well. If it's true that it takes 21 days to create a new habit, then I've given myself a bit of extra insurance by promising to "report in" for a month. I wish I didn't have to resort to little tricks like this. I'm a grown-up, I shouldn't have to. I should want to do these things because they make me feel good and because they're good for me.
My husband is a little worried that I'm doing too much. All I have to say to allay his concerns is this:
I don't want to end up like my dad.