Welcome To Limbo

I'm in a kind of funk today and I'm not really sure why that is. I have a project to be working on, there are people to talk to, but for some reason I just can't shake this feeling like what I really should be doing is reading a book, curled up at home in bed. With my box of Teddy Grahams.

It could be the fact that it is raining and I forgot my raincoat. Also, I biked to work this morning. It could be that I'm terrified the plan I'm working on gets slapped down as "stupid" by the higher ups when I present it. Perhaps it's this lurking feeling that I'm going to be dropped on my ass in two months without so much as a goodbye.

I think it's also due to my epic failure of a morning. Allow me to explain: I have this pair of jeans I bought when I lost some weight last summer. They're from American Eagle, size 12 (I am not ashamed! Much!), and have strategic rips in them to make me look all bohemian-cool. I wore them all through the summer, all through the winter, and then come spring they no longer could button without that awesome muffin-top we women get sometimes. What had happened?! I could barely squeeze my legs into them anymore, let alone button them!

On Saturday, randomly, I got the urge to try again. I'd been living at 7,000 feet, biking to and from work, watching my diet, and hiking. Surely, it wasn't just the mind-warp of feeling fit because I live at Grand Canyon National Park.

I slid the jeans on, zipped the zipper, and viola they fit again. So in my head, I was once again "in shape" or something to that effect. I got overly-confident in my abilities and decided to try a run this morning. I made it about one lap on the greenway (read: didn't finish the 0.6m lap) around my neighborhood. Total run distance? Half a mile. Since when can I only run half a mile?! High school, that's when. I power-walked another lap and then went home to shower off the stench of shame and defeat.

My goal is to leave here a size 10. Yes, I know, still a double-digit, but I have wide hips, dammit!