4 minutes…

It does not sound like a lot of time. 240 seconds is not earth shattering longevity by anyone’s standards unless you are underwater or you are me on the treadmill, running.

Sandwiched between Jessica and Lindsey, I ran on the treadmill for 4 minutes yesterday without stopping. When I started I could not run one minuet at a time and even two weeks ago I could only do half of that time. It’s the perfect reminder for me that success is measured in more than a number on the scale. It’s such a struggle for me to not measure failure or success based solely on the weigh in every two weeks. The number is the lifeline for donations and the final goal is based on the number of pounds lost but it is  not helpful if I use the number as a mental block sabotaging myself with the pressure of what is reflected on the scale.  Don’t get me wrong, the number is important but I have to not handcuff myself to scale and start thinking of success differently.

Running. I like it. I even like running around with that weight above my head that has proven to jack my heart rate right up, Lindsey loves the heart rate number dancing around 170. Me, I  just like moving, how it feels run, as slow as it may be there is something about NOT being able to do something for so long that when you can do it, it becomes a real achievement. That is why even though I am not working out with Lindsey tonight, I will be going to the gym with my favorite tunes on my iphone and run, my goal is 5 minutes at one time.

 

Running on the treadmill

 

finishing up a lap carrying the weight above my head

 

Jessica, me and Lindsey (giving the thumbs up) I adore them both.

 

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