Right now I am feeling like a bit of a failure.
I have failed.
I have fallen off the wagon.
Not so much in the alcohol drinking sense. I don’t have a problem with alcoholism.
However it is true that while I am writing this I am drinking a glass of Wolfblass Red Label Semillion Sauvignon Blanc.
It was on special at the Bottle-O for $10 and because I am a really classy chick, that is about all I am willing to spend on a bottle of wine that I won’t finish. (Ok who am I kidding! I probably will finish it and if I don’t, I will probably finish it tomorrow night, diluting the old wine taste by topping up my glass with orange juice). Yes, I am that classy. Jealous?
In all seriousness though, having a glass or two on a Friday Night is my reward for putting up with a week of stressful weekdays: getting the kids to school – getting to work on time – spending the day at work trying to recover from the school run – dealing with the kids fighting in the car on the way home – trying to organise homework – laundry – lunches – housework – bedtime.
“So if not alcohol then, what wagon are you falling off?” I hear you ask. (Ok, so even if you are not asking, I am going to tell you).
About 6 months ago, my husband decided to he wanted to get fit.
He joined a gym (costing us $16.94 per week – it might not seem a big outlay of cash to some – but with our tight budget it is sometimes hard to make sure we have that much in our account when the direct debit is due to come out).
I told my hubby that if he was going to sign up for the gym, he had to make sure he made proper use of it. No going for a few weeks and slacking off. I wouldn’t accept us paying for a $16.94 per week for nothing. My hubby promised that he would use the gym as much as possible and stuck to his word. He goes almost every day, with a couple of other people that he works with, doing pump and yoga classes as well as generally using the gym equipment.
The gym work has been paying off. He has lost a couple of pants sizes and is starting to look good. Really Good.
Meanwhile, since I have had the kids I have gone from size 8, to size 16 (and even size 18 depending on what brand of clothing).
And I don’t have the time for exercise.
Or at least thats what I tell myself.
And I am 20 kilograms more than what I should be.
Spurred on by his success at the gym, my husband has been trying to encourage me to try to improve my health and fitness. I couldn’t see a way clear in our budget to be able to afford a second gym membership. Even if we could afford it, with hubby going to gym after work, when could I fit my gym sessions in?
But I do really want to improve my health and fitness. I want to lose that 20 kilos.
So I jumped on the fitness bandwagon.
We decided to embark on a “Family Fit Project”. The plan was to try to exercise together as a family as much as possible. We started our “Family Fit Project” in April, bushwalking on one of the popular local tracks (I like to call it the Stairs of Doom as it is over a kilometre of (mostly) stairs and on your first time up the mountain, it feels like those stairs are never going to end).
I was seriously unfit and literally thought that I was going to die, but after I had finished, I felt an amazing sense of accomplishment and even though I was exhausted I was inexplicably happy.
The next day, we went on a 3km bushwalk around Mossman Gorge. Once again – enjoyed every minute.
On Anzac Day (two days later) we did the staircase of Doom again. It was still painfully exhausting, but was a bit easier than before.
Something weird happened.
I began to want to do the Stairs of Doom.
Over the next 10 days we did the stairs of Doom 3 more times.
Then Mr S got an Ear Infection. We were about to do the stairs of Doom, began the first flight of stairs, when he became hysterical with pain.
No stairs of Doom for Me. Hubby and Mr J did the stairs, while Miss O and I took Mr S to the doctor.
All the kids seemed to get sick, then eventually I did too. The flu really knocked me for a six. I was feeling a bit better by the end of the week, but I wasn’t up to the Stairs of Doom, so I dropped of Hubby and Mr J at the Stairs of Doom and Took Mr S and Miss O to the Esplanade, and we walked for half an hour, before Hubby phoned to say that he and Mr J were almost at the bottom.
Finally, on Mothers Day, I was well enough for the stairs of Doom again. But since then, I have slackened off. A lot.
Last week we did two 50 minute walks along the Cairns Esplanade.
Miss O had her best friend sleeping over last weekend and I was worried that my exercise momentum was slipping away, so the kids and I walked the dogs for an hour (actually the kids rode their scooters).
But this week the kids and I have done nothing. No Stairs of Doom. No Esplanade.
On Wednesday morning, I woke up – tired but otherwise perfectly fine – started getting the kids ready for school, and at some point in the morning, hurt my knee. (I don’t even know how!) The pain was excruiating.
As I limped around in pain, I felt Fat. I felt Depressed.
My knee was extremely sore for two days. It is still slightly sore now, but I think by tomorrow it will be okay.
I know I should exercise tomorrow. I know it should be one of the top five things on my to do list.
But I have fallen off the wagon.
Curling up in bed, watching the Pride and Predjudice Series that I got for mothers day, nibbling on grapes and chocolate sounds like a much more appealing way to spend the day.
I might just be okay with that.