So I had a rough three weeks. Three weeks that involved eating lots of sugar, skipping out on kickboxing and generally indulging myself to the point where I felt icky. Icky because I felt like I got way too comfortable. But I’ve managed to get back on the wagon. The Fitbit is back on, every exercise and morsel of food is being logged in my fitness pal, and I’m back to working out regularly.
I also came to a very surprise realization. I don’t hate running or the treadmill.
This goes back to my heavier days, but I’ve always hated running. When you’re big and you try to run, the impact when you hit the pavement is really intense. So the easiest substitution is to run on the treadmill, less impact right? Wrong. Whenever I ran on a treadmill when I was 300 lbs+ I always felt like everyone could hear me stomping like an elephant, like the sheer impact of my weight hitting the belt would cause the whole room to shake. So I’ve always done my best to avoid it and opted for the elliptical, with it’s smooth gliding motions and limited sounds.
One of the perks of the traveling I have to do for work is that they let me book my own hotels, so I tend to stay in better chains. I spent yesterday at one of my out of town locations, and had to do an overnight at a hotel I’m pretty familiar with. The fitness center is pretty decent, newer equipment, tons of free weights, but it’s always packed. Last night, there was not a soul. I thought it was almost too good to be true. I cranked the tunes on the TV and started on the treadmill. No one, not a single person entered for the entire hour and a half that I worked out. It was bliss, I ran like I’d never ran before, with complete abandon. It was so freeing. I can’t say that I’ve ever felt so satisfied with a workout before.
So it’s got me to thinking, I really want an at-home gym. Now I finally have an opportunity to make that happen. A few months ago I was traveling with my boss and I made mention that if anything ever became available in my home province that I would be open to a transfer. Luck would have it that the district manager in Manitoba resigned, and I was offered the position. I couldn’t say no. So Geordie and I are packing up at the beginning of the fiscal year and heading back to Winnipeg. My Dad offered me his house. He said if I came back home and took over the house he would put us on the title and in effect, give us the house. This sealed the deal for us. My Dad’s house also happens to be the house that my Grandma lived in for my entire childhood. When my aunts, uncles and father came to Canada they bought the house for my Grandma. At any given time one of my cousins and our respective parents have lived in that house with her.
Growing up I lived two streets away for her and it was always where I went to hang out and be fed. Now that house will be ours. There is something so wonderful about knowing that the house will stay in the family, that there won’t be strangers living there. More than that, the idea that Geordie and I will be able to raise our children in a home that holds so many memories for me fills my heart with so much joy. My heart is full.
So for us the next 9 months will be full of renovations, wedding preparations, and getting back into the grove of a city I never thought I would call home ever again.