I’ve never enjoyed working out. It’s monotonous, inconvenient, time-consuming, and is a rather boring way to spend one’s time. I understand the benefits—really, I do—but they’ve never been enough to keep me coming back for more than, say, 6 months at a time.
For reasons beyond the scope of this post, my energy level had dwindled pretty significantly over the past couple of years. This led me to join a gym several months ago. At first, I was a bit lax about attending—usually about twice a week while keeping my diet the same. Strangely, I started to gain weight. I had maintained the same poundage for over 3 years, and now that I was moving around my weight was creeping up. I know what you’re thinking—maybe I gained muscle—but the amount isn’t really feasible given the amount of weight gain and what I was doing in the gym.
To nip it in the bud, I decided to go to the gym five straight days and make sure I didn’t eat/drink anything questionable. The next week was almost as strict. This required discipline, mostly on the diet end of things. Beer and food taste good, you may have heard.
I lost about 7 pounds. In two weeks. It wasn’t really all that hard.
This scares me, because now I am left with a classic angel/devil dilemma.
On one hand, I am curious to see just how far I can push my body, given proper work/fuel/discipline. I’ve always been reasonably athletic, but I’ve never really just pushed the holy hell out of myself. What might be the results? Do I owe it to myself?
On the other, why don’t I eat and drink whatever I want, since I can easily drop the weight if it starts to creep up?