Another day of hard lifts. Adding the pullups and dips cuts down on what I can do afterward– every little bit of fatigue seems to count and those two activities work such a large number of muscles that all my other upper body lifts are much harder. But I still managed to get my reps done. This is how we make progress, I guess!
In the locker room after, my coworker and friend who’s started coming along (let’s call her E from now on) asked if I’d done one of the fitness assessments that the gym offers. I’m afraid my answer was curt: I replied, “No, I haven’t… I’m not really worried about conforming to someone else’s definition of fitness.” It was a snotty, chip-on-shoulder answer and I should’ve been a bit more kind about it– but it’s 100% true. As long as I can do the things I want to do, and I’m making steady incremental progress, I’m happy with my routine and I don’t need someone judging me.
On Tuesdays I go out for Chinese food with some coworkers; it’s very casual. Getting food into my face is always a high priority after a tough lifting day, and I inhaled my lunch. In the past I might have been concerned with the appearance of my eating– that’s something I’ve been very anxious about in the past, and I trained myself when I was young to eat delicately and slowly and take tiny bites and to be sure to never look piggish. For better or for worse, I’ve mostly gotten over that– of course I still try to have good table manners, but I’m not so worried about looking like I eat like a bird. Because I don’t.
Running While Fat 