Wait, What?

Warning...rambling ahead. A lot on my mind tonight.

I laugh when I think about how, a few months ago, I delicately approached the subject of my monthly cycle with G. the Meanie.

"Well, next week is...that time of the month. So I don't know how the weight loss is gonna look."

I'm not embarassed by my period--it's a fact of life, deal with it--but I also don't go around yelling about it to everyone.

It's a testament to how comfortable I am working with G. that these days, I've abandoned euphamisms altogether and have moved on to the very blunt, "Dude, I'm on my period." He's a trainer, he knows that women can maintain sometimes up to five pounds of water weight. So if I have a "bad" week, and Auntie Flo is in town, I'm quick to tell him so that he doesn't just assume I'm getting lazy.

Last week, I finally weighed in under 170. I weighed on Monday, even though I didn't have an appointment that afternoon. On Wednesday, for an "official" weigh-in, I was 170 again. Argh! On Friday, G. opted to not weigh me, saying, "I don't want to weigh you until after next week. Let's just get through that."

But my body is funny. Last month, I got stuck at 179 for two weeks waiting for the water retention to run its course (and I climbed a freakin' mountain!), and this month, apparently, I'm not holding on to anything. I weighed today, out of curiosity, before my appointment. G. was returning a phone call, and as he waited for an answer, I said, "You need to see this for yourself."

"Is it good?"

"Very good."

"Dramatic weight loss?"
I just smiled and said, "Mmmhmm."

"But I thought this week is supposed to be a bad week!"

Turns out it's not. And despite the reprieve I'd been granted from a Monday weigh-in, the, *ahem*three*cough* glasses of wine I had over the course of the weekend, and the fact that I took Sunday off from working out in favor of showing my recently-neglected sofa some love, I weighed in at 167.4.

I'm also rocking the size 10 jeans now. Since I have just continued buying the same Old Navy Sweetheart Boot-Cut Jeans every time I need a smaller size, they seem to be a pretty good barometer of how the weight loss is going. When I started this whole crazy Odyssey, I was wearing size 18.

So my weigh-in today was definitely a "Wait, What?" moment. So was the moment at the end of our appointment in which G. and I realized that I have only THREE sessions left (two of which are freebies I'm owed from a promotion the gym had in February). I either have to come up with the money for more sessions soon, or I need to swallow bravely, take off the training wheels, and go it on my own.

I tried to go it on my own in September, and I wasn't ready. C. the Sweetie gave me some workouts to do, but looking back, they were nowhere near as hard as what I do now with G. She hadn't insisted that I become a runner, only suggested. G. doesn't suggest, he mandates.

I think part of me is scared that if I stop working with G. now I'll fall back into the habits that took me back to training in December. I had all but stopped working out regularly, and running was a joke. I wasn't even trying at that point, but sticking to the elliptical, which was comfortable.

In December, I bought five sessions, explaining to my new trainer that I needed "a quick little kick in the butt" to get back into working out regularly.

It hasn't been quick, and it hasn't been little. Thanks to my meanie trainer, my whole life is different now.

These days, I want to be a runner. I am a runner. I know what a good workout feels like, and I know when I'm half-assing it. I don't feel like a jerk, using equipment that other, more serious atheletes are waiting to use. I know my way around the various machines and equipment. I wear leggings without feeling like a sausage.

And yet, I still feel like I need the training wheels.

Part of it is my current state of being totally resistant to change. After the last ten years of moving, graduating, new jobs, long journeys in 747s, ups and downs, different states, different countries...I'm ready to stay in one place for a while. The uncertainty of my employment situation, my resistance to leaving Chorale, the level of comfort I've acheived at this particular gym, are all things I am reluctant to let go of just now. So I'm kind of freaking out tonight. Because taking the training wheels off and going it on my own is totally doable this time. I just don't want to.

Tomorrow I'm going to a job faire in Sacramento. I am ready to explore my options in non-educational fields. If it helps me stay here, I'm all for it.