It happens to me twice a year. When the weather turns cold, I gain weight. When the weather warms up, I gain weight. I’m not quite sure why it works that way, but I am sure that it is damn annoying. It’s especially hard to accept in the spring after I have been doing this all winter with slices of pizza.
Springish weather has arrived early in Chicagoland this year (thank God), so I’m trying to get a jump on that weight gain as the seasons change. I don’t ever remember cycling in February before, but I made it out 4 times on my bike last month on my way to a planned 500 miles this season. How far did I get?
I purposely broke one of mine on January 2nd. The weight of carrying it around all year seemed unbearable to me. I resolved to do something each day to personally or professionally improve myself or the world. I’m not talking about a daily shave or shower here, although my family would heartily endorse a resolution dedicated to my personal hygiene. No, I wanted to make a real difference. I responded to that resolution by doing nothing at all on January 2nd.
I felt better once that was out of the way, but I am still trying each day to follow that resolution. However, if I get to the end of the day, and haven’t done much of anything, well …
I’m okay with that, because I broke the resolution back on January 2nd. Yes, it is twisted logic, but it works for my twisted mind.
I made another resolution, and I barely kept that one going yesterday.
I took a couple weeks after November ended to determine if I had lost a weight loss battle or the entire war. The month of November was certainly my weight loss Waterloo, and I don’t mean the city of Waterloo in Iowa, home of the Sistene Chapel reproduced in spray paint on the walls and ceiling of a warehouse turned into a restaurant that is now closed. Thanks, Covid.
No, I’m talking about Napoleon’s Waterloo where he lost his final battle while also gaining 5 pounds thanks to a cheesecake binge. I lost a major weight loss battle in November. Fat cells are now occupying my liver, and they are threatening to invade my pancreas unless their demands for sugared sodas and cake are met. However, I may not have lost the war. Signs in December are positive about returning to or close to my goal weight I met over the summer.
I can break November into 2 distinct halves. The first half of November was characterized by 4 things:
July was a real up & down month weightwise for me. Up is not the direction I want to go, but 2 personal trips, 1 business trip, and a family birthday party throw my eating and exercise plans off a bit. I was up a couple pounds, down a couple, up, down, up, down, etc. But the final result for July was down 3 lbs, and I made my goal weight set at the beginning of the COVID lockdown.
It wasn’t because of my steps. They were down, under 10,000 per day, but purposely so.
The last time I updated you on my efforts to reach my weight loss goal of 20 pounds (for those of you still living in medieval times, that comes out to 1.43 stones), I had fallen short in September. I was stuck at 17 pounds at the end of September after really working out hard that month. With cooler weather coming, I faced the prospect of no more swimming workouts in the convenience of our backyard pool. I am simply not up for a nice winter swim as some are.
Canadians, eh? And I cannot handle this exercise below freezing …
If you missed yesterday’s post, I finished writing a book this weekend. No, not a sequel to my Parasitic Twin novella, but a collection of short stories. As I warned I might do, the title has already been changed to “Beyond: Tales of the Afterlife.” But there were other milestones reached this past weekend.
I’m not happy about it, and my knee brace also looked displeased …
I haven’t stopped exercising, but my walks have become strolls, and my bike rides have become leisurely sightseeing excursions. That does have some advantages. Just this morning, I encountered this photogenic family while biking …
I like to exercise first thing in the morning, and most of this summer I have been walking in the mornings. After Charlottesville, I have preferred biking more than walking recently. We live in a hilly area, so there are lots of downhill stretches where I can coast downhill at 20+ mph. Going at faster speeds, I feel the wind in my face and I imagine that the wind is blowing the stench of racism, bigotry and hatred off of me that I absorbed from watching the Charlottesville coverage. Of course, once the downhill stretch is done, there are long uphill climbs that leave me winded with burning legs. Standing on the pedals to inch my bike forward uphill reminds me that our struggle against racism, bigotry and hatred is real and hard work. Cycling has been good therapy for me post-Charlottesville. If only we could bike to change what happened in Charlottesville.