I’m listening to the sounds of my husband working out (go husband!) and thinking about how important physical fitness was to Eric. It’s one of things that make this so unbelievable. It’s not like this was his first race, or that he just woke up one morning and decided that running a race would be a good thing to do. He was in great shape. He ran and/or worked out everyday. He ran a race almost every weekend. He liked doing all of this. He had a before and after photograph on his refrigerator of himself pre- and post- getting into shape. He took good care of himself.
So where does that leave me and the rest of the world? I know what I should be doing, but it doesn’t seem to make much sense. After all look where exercise and eating right (except for Doritos) got him.
Right now I have the excuse of pregnancy to get out of starting a new exercise routine, and it’s ok if I have another serving, the baby needs it. Someday though, I will no longer be pregnant and I will desperately want to lose the weight I have gained. Some of it will come off easily (thank you breast feeding), but some will not. I will have to work at it. I did this really well after my first child, even losing an extra 20 pounds. I felt really good about myself. I didn’t do so well after my second child and I’m still carrying around extra weight that I really don’t want.
My goal is to get it off and get back to the size I want to be after I have this baby. But I’m a little bit scared. Do you blame me?
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