It can’t be helped. Fitness has weaseled its way into my life, and now my blog, all thanks to my husband. A year ago he started school to become a personal trainer. Even though his school was forced to shut down seven weeks short of him finishing the course, he has not given up in pursuing that mission. I am proud of him for that. The irony in all this is that anything that required my body to move and ache, has never been my friend.
Perhaps God, in His infinite wisdom thought, Margaret, my child, you’re going to get fat and die. I’m going to put a man in your path who values fitness. He will be persistent in his
nagging, encouragement. He will see to it that you don’t neglect your body, I know it’s temporary, but while you live, it is your temple.
So here I am, having to admit that I feel good. I know I’m still not eating great, but I’m taking baby steps here. I’ve worked out for half an hour before work every day this week, and I feel really good. It’s annoying that I won’t be able to see any changes for months, but at least, I feel them. I am more energetic and don’t wobble as much when I put my socks on in the morning.
I feel encouraged, despite the fact that I really let myself go, and in spite of the fact that I have such a long way to go, I’m going to make it. I’m going to keep taking it one day at a time. That’s all I can do when I really think about it.
Today I will live with the choices I made yesterday & Tomorrow I will live with the choice I made today.
In His love,