Stuck on a Plateau

Hitting a plateau is never fun.  You are running, sweating, watching every thing you eat and step on the scale expecting to see some reward for all your efforts, and nada, zip, zilch…no change.  Or worse yet, the numbers change, but just the wrong way.  Crazy doubts go through your mind, and you start to second guess all of your progress so far, and wonder if it was all worth it.

I was in a slump and hit a plateau.  I was running regularly, in addition to doing intervals of sprints, and was pretty careful with what I ate, but for the past couple of months, nothing significant has been happening on the scale.  I kept wondering what I was doing wrong, after all, I was doing more than I had 6 months ago when the weight seemed to be falling off.  Back then, I was excited to step on the scale and see my progress, but as of late, not so much.

Weight loss is not the only area of my life that seems to have hit a plateau…I feel like other areas have been just surviving in maintenance mode.  It’s only natural to happen after awhile…you become comfortable in your lifestyle, marriage, parenthood and don’t realize that it is the same thing, day after day.  Rob started his new job a couple of weeks ago, which he really likes so far, but it has meant that I am home with Logan, without a car in a strange new area.  Fortunately, our new community does come with some perks; a huge clubhouse complete with pool tables, indoor racquetball court, heated outdoor pool and a nice gym.

While these amenities have kept us occupied quite a bit, I am at a loss when Logan asks to go to a playground (I haven’t found one within walking distance) and I have to tell him no.  I love the extra time I have with him, and wouldn’t want it any other way, but sometimes I feel at a loss to find interesting and stimulating things to do with him.

Last week I turned 27, which I am totally okay with.  (Maybe if I say it enough times, I’ll believe it!)  My oldest sister confessed to me a few years back that she was not looking forward to turning 30, and I’ve never understood why people worry and fret about their age…until a couple days ago.  I had just started a bath for Logan, and caught my reflection in the mirror.  Since I had a couple of minutes, I took a good honest look at myself…taking stock, you may say.  I started at the pimple I had on my chin, (receding nicely) then made sure there was nothing hanging off my teeth (check).  No stray eyelashes were ready to fall into my eyes, and my frown line didn’t look as deep as it had before.  All in all I was content with what I saw looking back at me; relatively clear skin, no new wrinkles, and nice tan color with tamed eyebrows.  Then I saw it…or rather, them.  My first instinct was denial… (“No, that can’t possibly be what it looks like”) then blame… (“It must just be the lighting in here”) to shock (“Holy Crap!!! Those are grey hairs!)  And it wasn’t just one, stray, independent hair that could be plucked out and quickly forgotten, but at least 10 of them had lost all their pigment.  I still couldn’t believe it so I called Rob in the bathroom to verify, which he so tactfully did.  After a quiet chuckle, he looks at me and says, “Hey, don’t worry about it Granny.”  (Gee, thanks!)

So in honor of my soon to be salt and pepper hair and my great advancing age, I’ve decided that I am going to spend all of my 27th year making myself blow past any plateaus.  I’m going to be a better wife, and have fun ideas and interesting conversations that keep my husband guessing.  I going to be more active with Logan, and start teaching him lessons he’s going to need for the rest of his life.  I’m going to make more time for my own personal study, and have quiet time that I can meditate on what I learn.  And I’m going to kick my own butt everyday to do something different from the day before.

My big sis, Amy spent about 6 hours training me on a new weightlifting routine while she was visiting, and after three weeks, I’m seeing major results.  My arms are just beginning to lose the wobbly, jell-o effect from weight loss, and the muscles in my legs are becoming really defined.  Two days a week I warm up with 15 minutes of cardio, and then lift for about an hour, one day on my arms and the other on my legs.  Three other days I am trying to do 30 minutes of cardio, and I say trying because it is not always so easy to wake up early and drag my moldy butt out of bed!  But then I feel said moldy butt and realize it is getting smaller, and that is usually enough motivation to get the job done.

Check out the new place of torment 🙂

Playing racquetball with Logan...a new favorite activity

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