Okay then

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When I went to the doctor for an annual this year, I got on the scale, like I'm supposed to, and, truth is, I didn't like the number. I wanted the number to be lower. For no particular reason. Just because I'd decided lower was better.

I went home, got on my scale, which had been giving me lower numbers, and found that if I stepped on it, got off and got back on, there was a difference of  four pounds. Thanks, digital scale, you lying piece of metal.

Does four pounds matter? It does if a person is invested in having the lowest possible number for the sheer pleasure of having the lowest possible number.

Here's what happened. This summer I was getting in a lot of training -- Nia 4 or 5 even 6 times a week. Running 3 times a week. Getting on the Elliptigo twice a week. And I was hungry, eating a lot sometimes. Finally it just kind of hit me: well, okay then. This is what I do. This is how I eat. This is what I weigh. Whatever. 

But this time I meant it. I'm loving how my body feels. I love all the running and biking and Nia, and I hold myself back from doing more because, well, other work has got to get done and I know that doing too much can lead to injury rather than progress. 

I love how my body feels and I feel pretty strong. I could be stronger, for sure, and thinner, yeah, and the point isn't to be my thinnest or even strongest. It's to feel great, and I do. 

One of the delights of being 49 is that expectations are super low. I don't need to look like a model as long as I don't, umm, I guess look 49. You know? If I somehow look younger or more fit for my age, then I'm doing well. My gorgeous young daughter looks gorgeous and young, and my 49 year old body looks 49 and fit. No amount of thin makes me look gorgeous and young.  I look at my lovely teen and it's just kind of clarifying. I don't need, and can't be, gorgeous like that, no matter what I weigh. So, fit it is. 

I like how my body looks. I'm kind of growing into it, five decades in. With that, I'm just not feeling as fussy about the number on the scale. My husband kindly suggested that my extra pounds are muscle, and maybe they are. My jeans fit well. 

Getting my weight as low as it could go was a game or a goal. I'd be very active and eat well and see what would happen. I turns out, it dipped, and then it climbed and this is about as low as I'm gonna go. Because I don't want to spend any energy on how I can eat less when I'm spending my energy on how I can move well, train well, and fuel my training. 

I don't like when I eat so much my belly hurts. I still do that, and it's a habit of inhaling food too quickly or thinking I need more food rather than sensing my body. Heck, yeah, I wanna make progress on that. But not to weigh less. Really, I think this is what I weigh. More accurately, I think if I don't get to play the game of how low can I go, then why bother stepping on the scale? 

My new game is: how far can I run and how fast can I go?