It's Not the Clouds' Fault

I’m in a weird, vaguely low place today.  There are a zillion things I could blame it on, like the fact that we are entering week 2 of a cloud fest that has been getting depressing, or that it is no longer light out before I have to get out of bed, which is even more depressing, but those things, while they enhance a dreary mood, are by no means the culprit.  I am.  If nothing else, by blogging over these last couple of years about wanting to lose weight and get healthy, and by starting, stopping, falling off, and returning, repeatedly, I at least have learned this.  There is absolutely nothing and no one who stands in my way but myself.  There is no such thing as being too old, it being too hard, having no time, or it being a  bad time.  I have proven to myself both previously and recently that regular exercising, which inevitably results in feeling good and losing a couple of pounds (enough to at least start loosening up the clothes, anyway), and which in turn then makes me feel more in control of my eating and less inclined to stuff my face with sugar, is enough to really lift me.  Just that little bit makes me feel more energetic, makes the daily grind feel like less of a grind, and makes accepting the faults of loved ones and the pitfalls of life’s responsibilities feel perfectly doable.  Inertia is an intense and powerful enemy, and it is soooooo difficult to start and infinitely easier to stop, but in this moment of feeling cruddy I can certainly recognize how short the hurdles really are.  It would not be so tough to just put one foot in front of the other, build to a slow jog, and eek over first one, then another, then another, until I am cruising like Gail Devers.  Screw you, clouds and darkness.  This is my mission.