I have always prided myself on my lack of interest in working out. Yoga is awesome, but that’s about all I ever do at our local YMCA.

Totally what I look like. Bringin’ it back.

Then the hub gave us a trip to Montreal for Valentine’s Day to go skiing. Great except…I don’t want those mountains to kick my ass. So right after the New Year I started my 2nd project of walking 5(ish) miles every day and not eating carbs or sugar. Fun times. Plus it’s cold out, which means I can’t walk in my neighborhood the way I like. So I go to the Y.

And I stay there for 2 hours. It takes me about 1 hour and 15 minutes to walk my 5 miles. If there’s yoga, I do that too. Hub introduced me to a fun but brutal thing called the Bosu Ball. So I tear up my ab muscles and try to stay balanced on that for a few rounds of exercise.

I see the same people every day. I jet past the old people on the track (look people, if I have to walk 5 miles every day, I do NOT want to be there all day! Get out of my way!). I see the same meaty guys working out. We nod quietly to one another, more focused on our desire for health/fitness/poppin’ muscles than socializing.

And then I step back and look at myself and say, “Who the hell are you and what have you done with flabby, no-exercise Su?? 2 hours a day of exercise?? You’re crazy.”

And I am. But I’m also trying to lose more weight. Primarily because I bought ski pants that are a lot wee uncomfortable and  I need to fit in them or skiing will be no fun.

So whoever I am, I like it because it’s working. I feel fit, and I weigh less than I have in 10 years (with the 6 month exception of breastfeeding but I can hardly compare eating 2000 calories a day and losing weight to what I’m doing here, now can I?). I now wear a size 10 and am pretty damn close to a size 8. I like that. Today I bought my first pair of skinny jeans. Who’d have thunk?

So you know what? Being a gym rat ain’t so bad.