I don’t think the Internet hates me enough. I was sitting around last night thinking, “Hmmm, what can I do to get the Internet to hate me?” I could go to Chicago and eat deep-dish pizza, a cannoli with filling as sweet as frosting, chocolate-chip cheesescake, some apple crisp, a delicious lobster bisque, a million tasty hors d’oeuvres and I think there was a cherry cobbler and a cookie in there too. Then I could wash it down with some rum and coke (not diet!) and a pina colada and go home and weigh myself and discover I have lost a pound. I’m pretty sure that will make the Internet hate me. Do you hate me yet?
This weight loss business never ceases to confuse me. Sure, I did go on a 7-mile bicycle trip. And I walked a mile from the hostel to Union Station dragging my 40 pound suitcase behind me because I couldn’t find the right bus stop. And I walked another mile or two when circling in on the W hotel (which is not the Westin, as the desk clerk was happy to tell us). But really, I should have gained weight and it feels rather ridiculous that I didn’t. I’ve heard theories that if you’ve been losing weight by slightly lowering your calorie intake and then you go pig out it signals your body that food is plentiful and that it’s okay to let go of some of your fat. Highly adaptable, the body is. Maybe I’ll gain it back later in the week, but as of today the scale read 174.8.
So that means I’m down another 3 pounds for July. This month was spent mostly just doing weights, Pilates, and some biking since I was laying off my injured leg. I didn’t have any problems in my many treks around the Windy City though, so I’m going to start easing back into my running program. Hopefully I’ll be in good enough shape to run my first 5K in the fall! Woo-hoo, free t-shirt!
I went to my second tennis lesson Monday night, even though I was completely exhausted from traveling. But there was no way I was going to waste my registration fee. I came back feeling unexpectedly refreshed. I am by far the worst tennis player in our class. It is somewhat comical. Everyone else is trying to adjust the angle of their rackets to hit the ball where they want to whereas I do a little victory dance every time I just hit the ball and don’t swat at carbon dioxide molecules. Evidently, like piano lessons, I’m supposed to be practicing in between my professional lessons. No one told me that when I signed up. I might have to actually buy a racket and some tennis balls so I do not fall so far behind my classmates that no one wants to rally with me. I don’t have to be the best, but it’d be nice if no one sighs exasperatingly when they’re paired with me. It’s funny, but I don’t even care that I suck at tennis. I’m just happy to be bouncing around the court without collapsing. I don’t think it’s something I’m going to pick up after my lessons are over though. I’m eyeballing martial arts next, or maybe salsa dancing. I’ll let you know.