Growing

The flowers are growing.

The vegetables are growing.
The trees are growing. These trees? Now look like these trees:
(They ARE these trees, only 4 years later)

My baby is growing.
My other baby is growing to.
Idea are growing, dreams are growing, memories are growing.

Grass? Check. It's growing. (But me and my little red tractor are winning.)

Cattle count? GROWING!
(Remember when the cows came to visit a few years ago? Yeah, well, the Beef Jerks are at it, playing Houdini from the field next door. Sometimes they hang out on our lawn. Sometimes they like to wander out near the busy County road - you know the one with all the gravel truck speeding by from the local pit? Hate to be that gravel truck doing 80km/hr, coming around that big blind curve, and have to brake for a freaking COW in the middle of the road.)

Sorry....I digressed.

There's also some other growth happening here. But not a good kind.

It's the "growing out" kind, and it seems to have afflicted the grownups here

My butt is growing.

My chin(s) are growing

My belly? Looks like I'm going to have another baby. Except I'm not.

Yeah, that kind of growth.

So, it's time to get SERIOUS here.

I started a running clinic a while back, and punked out. It was progressing too fast, I couldn't keep up. It may have had something to do with not doing my "homework."

No more.

Steve and I have started the Couch to 5K program. And we're doing it like we mean it. Every other day we'll run. Doing it together is SO much better than on your own.

I've never talked about fitness goals here, because I've never really had any. Also, I'm a bit afraid to set them, because I'm afraid I'll fail. But not setting them? Guaranteed fail.

I'm done having babies, so no more excuses there. I'm tired of rifling through my closet to find something, ANYTHING that fits this strange body of mine. I'm down to my pre-pregnancy weight, but nothing is where it used to be. I'm not sure where I've lost the weight FROM (likely my brain) but I sure know where it's GONE! I have a whole bin full of clothes downstairs from the summer before we got married, when I was perhaps at the fittest I've been in a while. By the end of this summer, I'm getting back into them.

I want to lose 20lbs by Labour Day.

There, I said it.

(Ideally, I'd lose another 10-20 by Christmas, but let's get to Labour Day first.)

I've made some big leaps so far. No more sweets. That's the biggest. And the hardest, because OMG I loves me some chocolate! (And ice cream....and and and...)

However, I have to be realistic, and I have to be healthy. I'm breastfeeding, so I can't go dropping my calorie count to some ridiculous level. But I can eat healthy. And lay off the junk. And the beer. And do some exercise. And drink some water. And hope for the best.

So. 20lbs. Wish me luck!