Impossible is a typoRunning my pants off and loving myself along the way

Even the boats are festive

FitGirl: I think we should go for a run.

FatGirl: What? I just poured myself coffee. It’s all hot and delicious. I ani’t going nowhere.

FitGirl: You can make the coffee hot again. There’s a magical device called a Microwave.

FatGirl: Nope. Got too much work to do. There’s email to read. Facbook games to play.

FitGirl: Tough luck. We’re going now

FatGirl: Over my dead body.

FitGirl: That may very well be the case…

So I went for a run for the first time in, oh about 2 months. I’ve been sick and busy and have totally used that as an excuse to be lazy and eat ice cream. Yay, I’ve won the game of gaining 15lbs. Gold stars for me. I’m really ok with having put on some weight. Well, that’s not accurate. I’m a little angry, frustrated and embarrassed about it. But what I’m not doing is beating myself up over it. I’m not all woe is me how could this have happened. I have the weight gain because I took the action that lead to it. Pretty plain and simple. And I know what to do to take that weight off and get back to my commitment to being healthy and running and achieving a healthy weight.

So as the neighborhood decks its halls, I’m be hitting the pavement and celebrating the holidays with a new pair of sneakers.

Impossible is just a big word thrown around by small men who find it easier to live in the world they’ve been given than to explore the power they have to change it. Impossible is not a fact. It’s an opinion. Impossible is not a declaration. It’s a dare. Impossible is potential. Impossible is temporary. Impossible is nothing.
Muhammad Ali.