The Last of It

I have nine pounds left to go to be a little under what I weighed when I gave birth to Claire.

Nine pounds...seems like so little given the 22 that I lost prior to that...and yet, I can feel it hanging on.

I'm running more than I have ever and burning a shit load of calories...but most everyone who's into fitness will tell you that when you're trying to get to a targeted number, the last little bit has everything to do with nutrition. 

The equation is something like 75% nutrition to 25% activity.  And I suck when it comes to tracking calories, fat, sodium, fiber, etc.  I just hate writing that shit down or tracking it in an app.

We eat pretty darn healthy around our house.  But still, it's not been enough since I plateaued a couple of weeks ago.  My old mantra of "How bad do you want it?" seems to be wearing out its welcome.  My swim suit that I ordered online is darling but has a few areas that would look a lot better if I could drop my 'food baby.'  And in general, I'm getting tired of the fight.

The truth is that everything is better when you're not weighed down by excess...whatever that excess may be in your life.  I can run faster when I'm lighter.  I can love those around me more fully when I'm not mired by guilt or anger.  I can dream bigger when I'm financially lean.  And I can and do feel more like me when I'm not carrying around the last remnants of baby weight.

Some mornings, I just pray that God will throw me a bone...like a half pound loss or a stronger run than before.  Wish me luck.  I'm in the final days/weeks of the battle.  I'm hoping for victory.