Days 140-146 (the blizzard blues)

Baby ailments have plagued our home for more than a week (click here for the backstory) and, instead of using Coop’s ear infections and constant need for MOMMY as a distraction, I used it as an excuse.

To eat. A lot.

Coop’s week-long agony coincided with the official end of my structured, competition-driven workout routine and the culmination of it all left me feeling completely lost and out of sorts. And I gave into that and self-medicated with trips to Dairy Queen.

Three trips, as a matter of fact.

Three chocolate extreme blizzards.

In 5 days.

Oops.

It wasn’t just the inhalation of sweet, creamy goodness punctuated with hunks and chunks of chocolate and brownie that filled my mouth with the deliciousness of comfort I wasn’t able to find elsewhere (umm, did I even look elsewhere? Ha!). It was also the fact that I wasn’t motivated to workout. I only made it to boot camp once … I was at home with Coop the other two days. And, though I squeezed in two workouts at home over the past week, I struggled. Big time.

Chris blew past me with the strength and dead-set determination of a huntin’ dog on the trail of some juicy woodland creature. He devoured the gym with shirt-drenched sweat and a passion I could only show for sleep and fried foods (yes, there was also a secret trip to KFC snuck in there, too. CRAP!). You would think his motivation would’ve served as inspiration. But it didn’t.

It irritated the shit out of me.

He was high on life and weight loss and clothes falling off his waist.

I wanted to strap him to a chair and force-feed him donuts until sprinkles shot out his nose.

It’s now Tuesday and Coop’s back at daycare (yay!) and I have boot camp tonight (double yay!) and I hope to somehow find that motivation I lost over the past few days.

Perhaps I will find it in the sting of sweat in my eyes. The bite of chiggers as they cling to my ankles during “mountain climbers” and push-ups. The aching pain in my chest from suicides and shuffles. Or, perhaps, in my inability to move because every muscle in my body has been pushed beyond the point of exhaustion. Truth be told, that’s one of the best feelings in the world … it reminds you that you're kicking ass, that you’re moving and working and striving to better yourself.

Bring on the pain. Blizzards be damned.

p.s. And if DS EVER sees this, I may regret ever being so honest.