I wanna show you my butt!
. . . yes, I realise that’s an odd opening, but I spent some time looking in the mirror yesterday—really looking, something I’ve not done for ages—and I found some interesting changes. The top half of my body (we’re talking ribs, upwards) has shrunk loads. I mean, loads. I hadn’t noticed before because 1) I don’t look in mirrors and 2) my boobs were in the way. So I lifted them aside to have a look at my ribs and arms and whaddya know, those areas are visibly smaller, even to my eyes. Sure, I’m nowhere near where I want to be and I know I have a long way to go, but the fact that I can see the difference for myself is amazing and a wonderful Christmas present.
But my butt? I was looking at that too and I noticed the shape of my lower half. I have wide hips, always have and my butt is quite high. Not perky or anything, it just sticks out in a way you tend to find on women of my ethnic heritage. I used to hate it, but I noticed yesterday that it isn’t actually all that bad. That for all it’s size, the shape is ‘nice’ and the overall size has reduced since I last dared to have a look.
I don’t mean for this week to be all about my body image but I think it’s important for me to log these changes in how I see myself. It’s all part of the journey.
So yes . . . I want to show you all my arse, but I figure, that’s probably not a photo I should be putting on the internet. 😉
ANYWAY (!), today was another gym day and I nearly didn’t manage my run. Given what I said last time, I knew it was risky to go back there intending to use the treadmill, but when I arrived there was no bugger there and I know for a fact that Monday’s are heavier than other days I frequent. So I risked it.
So there I was, running along, listening to Joanna Penn at the 15 minute mark. Only another 18 minutes to go. Then my swaying hands catch something on the front of the machine and the belt comes to a horrible, dead stop. -_- It nearly knocked my teeth out! I’m lucky I hadn’t been going any faster because I wouldn’t have been able to catch myself if I had been.
So what happened? I hit the emergency stop. Not on purpose, mind you, but the swing of my arms on that particular machine makes it significantly easier to hit that button by mistake. Given its purpose, the button is also very large and easy to press. I suppose it was only a matter of time.
I nearly gave up then: sod the remaining 18 minutes. But then I realised that I’d only hate myself if I did. So . . . I started back up again and ran the last half. Oh, and I did something I’ve never done before. The last 60 seconds is usually when I crank it up a notch. Today I took it quite a bit further and ran at my fastest yet. I think that’s something I’m going to do more often: tack a faster pace on the end of each run and gradually increase the time spent at that speed. If I ever want to make an actual 5k in 30 mins, I need to go A LOT faster, so this is just a small way I can help myself get there.
Couch To 5k: Week Eight, Run Two: Complete
To make matters worse, right at the end of my cool down, I hit the button again and had to clutch at the bar while flailing like an idiot. The poor man next to me looked ready to leap to my rescue—bless him—so I did the only thing I could: laughed it off and fled to the toilets to hide the heat in my face.
Oh, and that grumpy lad was there again today. By the time he arrived I was already pushing weights so he didn’t have to wait, but he was still grumpy as anything. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile.