2 miles…

So today I took it easy on myself, and decided to work for distance, not speed or intensity, since for some reason I was a little stiff, even after stretching.  Since I was taking a lower intensity, I figured I’d increase my time, and my incline but keep the pace low and increase my distance.   I did 1.5 miles on Monday, so I was aiming for 1.75 (trying to go up .25 miles every session until I’m doing 3.5, and then working to improve my time).  I felt so in the zone once I found my tempo though that I was into the 8th lap before I realized it.  I figured what the hell, may as well finish, so I did 2 whole miles today.  Yes, they were slow miles  (52 min for those who care), but they were miles…this from a girl who flunked the physical fitness test EVERY year they forced me to take it, usually in tears.  I am NOT an athlete at all by nature or inclination, but I am getting to a stronger, healthier self both physically and mentally since going on Prozac (no, I’m not an infomercial for it, it’s just changed my life that much.)  If you had asked me if I was “depressed” before I would have probably said no, because I wasn’t actively suicidal, I just didn’t want to live.  To be honest, after my husband died, I just wanted to die too.  I didn’t want to live in a world without him.   Well, I had to.  3 years and nearly 7 months later,  I am trying to take as much care of myself as I did him.  It’s starting to work.  The total of almost 60 lbs I gained after he died are coming off me, slowly, but they are coming off.  I’ve already lost 25+ and when I drop another 10 I’ll have reached my first goal weight, but just as important, I’m losing this weight in the right ways, not by starving myself, or further abusing my body.

I’ve become a LOT less disorganised, the boyfriend and I fight less over the difference in our ideas of “clean”, and I’m having to think that perhaps the mess/disorganisation was more a symptom of depression than a true personal preference (I’ll still never be a neat freak, but less chaos is good.)  If it was a symptom, I should have started Prozac back in 1987, it would have made my life exponentially better/easier.

I have been able to do more towards being a healthy, happy, productive person in the 5 1/2 weeks I’ve been on Prozac than in the 30+ years before.

Anyway, I’m doing better.  I still miss my husband, but it’s starting to feel possible for me to have a future that despite not including him, is a pretty decent thing.  Also, I’m planning to buy a weight machine next.  He’d be proud of me.

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