Inches...

I've been getting lazy with my juicing and have been eating more meals, which is depressing considering I only have a week left and should be able to suck it up and stick it out. So at work, I insist on planking for a full minute again. And I do 20 lunges for the 10 pieces of mail we get. And I do some glute squeezing just for the heck of it. Hey, every little bit helps, right?

So I get home from work and have made plans to do some cleaning in preparation for the arrival of my parents on Friday. It's some rough cleaning. There's a lot to be done. I work up a little bit of a sweat, but not enough to consider it a full workout. After cleaning, I do yoga for twenty minutes. As I continue to do it, I notice my ability has increased quite a bit. Poses that I used to struggle to hold, I don't have to worry about. Make no mistake, it's still hard, but I have more energy to commit to the difficult stuff instead of wasting it on the stuff that should be easy.

By the end, I'm good and sweaty; a feeling I've come to enjoy. I pack my gym bag (thanks Trusty Target Bag) and head to the gym for a dip in the pool. I arrive at the gym and change into my swimsuit. I decide I'm avoiding the weight room and doing lower impact things because I have a session with a personal trainer tomorrow and I'm sure to get my butt kicked.

I do a total of 30 lengths of the pool, which I don't think is even half a mile. I can't help but feel sad and pathetic, like the plants that are placed throughout the pool area. My arms burn and my legs burn and I think I may not have the strength to lift my head out of the water each and every time I submerge myself. At the conclusion of my swim, I once again thank the powers that be that I was the only person in the pool because the last thing I need is to feel like someone is watching me. 

Honestly, could a living thing look more depressed?

I do go into the steam room, again. This time I have the power to set the timer myself. I settle on 6 minutes, thinking I'll perform better when there is an ultimate and finite goal. I go inside and sit down and feel pretty bad-ass as the steam starts to full the room. 'This vapor form of water ain't got nothin' on me,' I think to myself in the most humble of internal narratives. I last a good while, too. I'm not sure at what point things head south, but I am suddenly aware of needing to constantly blink and I can't decide if I can't see because of the steam or if it's because I'm going to pass out. I decide to play it safe and leave. As I exit, I glance at the timer. I was 30 seconds away from my goal. So close.

I have noticed some physical change since this whole journey began. I have more space in the legs of my jeans. What a coworker once described as skinny jeans are fairly baggy in the leg. I have actual shoulder muscles and notice a difference between flexing and not flexing. I'm really glad I started this and I'm really excited to finish it. Plus, wouldn't it be kind of awesome if at the end of my journey I decided to become a personal trainer?