This past week was pretty awesome. There is something about the feel of the beach that has so much ease and just has a slower pace. Not to mention, the air, the breeze---it's all just good for the soul if you ask me. All of this fluffy rainbows & butterflies aside, I'm also convinced that a real vacation, one where you can truly let yourself relax consists of leaving your children at home. I know, that sounds horrible--but, once you do have a baby, everything just seems to revolve around their schedule. They still need things done for them constantly, therefore relaxation doesn't really happen much.
Don't get me wrong. I absolutely adore my time with my daughter, making memories and such--but a vacation just me and my husband, on a gorgeous island, with a butler & a chef, unlimited drinks (with no calories), while laying on some white sandy beach? Sounds a heck of a lot more relaxing. Just sayin'.
Let's not hold our breath until THAT scenario happens. A girl can dream, right?
I don't run. I've never really been a runner. I highly admire people who run and secretly wish I enjoyed it or that I really COULD do it. It's been over two years since I've gone for a run of any sort. Sad, but true.
My older brother is a runner though. He hasn't always been one, but he's worked his way up running lots of miles at a time and he even ran a 15k this past weekend. So, at the beach? He encouraged me and my sister to try running and that he'd be happy to run with us.
We griped, and complained, and whined like no other. We can't run. We suck at running. We'll have to stop after 1/4 mile. DO YOU REALIZE THAT WE DON'T RUN? Wah. Wah.
Well, we ran a mile. An entire mile without stopping. And look--I realize that is laughable to a lot of people, but my goodness, that was a serious accomplishment to us. I'm not going to lie and say I loved when my feet smacked the pavement, and that I felt all liberated and free and garbage like that. I hated every minute of it. But? I still did it.
Maybe if I keep at it, I'll learn to like it? A girl can dream.
I didn't lose weight on vacation this time. In fact, it appears I gained about .6 (thats point six) pounds or so. So, I've pretty much been stuck at the same weight for the last few weeks/month. It's getting annoying, but I'm also trying to enjoy the fact that I felt 100x less self-concious this year at the beach than last. And that I didn't have a gut that overhung my pants. Or that I'm wearing jeans five sizes smaller than last. I think that's a hell of an accomplishment in a year (or really half a year rather since I waited till January to start doing anything about it.)
So, a scary last year (6 weeks postpartum) picture comparison to this year. The weight difference here is close to 50lbs. Yikes.
So, the last 9'ish pounds I'd like to lose is going to drop.right.off, yea? Um. Doubtful.
But a girl can dream.