I'm a Runner

Last Friday, my father-in-law had a massive stroke and life has gone haywire. Food logging went out the window. Stress levels went through the roof. Fear and uncertainty were the names of the game.

He survived, thank the HEAVENS, but it will be a long and arduous process to get him and the family back to a sense of normalcy. With that one blood clot that came on so suddenly, everything changed.

Today, I finally went back to work, and started my day with a doctor's appointment that I had made about a week ago. I have an anxiety disorder, and it was time to look over my medication. He decided to up my dosage (yay!), and brought up my weight in the nicest way possible. I have a very kind doctor, for which I am eternally grateful. He reminds me a lot of the bar owner from "Good Morning Vietnam", but without the creepy vibe. He knows what he's talking about and is very good at explaining things without sounding like he's talking down to you.

He wants me to join Weight Watchers.

I've done this in the past and had great results. Maybe that's why I fear trying it again. I explained that I can't afford it. He pointed out that it's only $20 per month. He seemed so sure that I could do this that it seems silly not to try it again. So next week (because payday), I will be joining the WW empire once more.

My boss was just talking about an interesting idea. What if you're a really good surfer, but you've lived in Iowa your whole life, so you don't know it? I've always thought that deep inside, I'm a runner. I've just never been healthy enough to do more than amble and wheeze. But what if I'm a really good runner, but I've lived in this body my whole life, so I don't know it? I intend to find out.