Just an impromptu post about thoughts that have occurred to me.
As I previously stated, I intended to start a new lifestyle in which I exercise, diet, everything. I'm going to be healthy, a junkie who is addicted to a well balanced life. Eating is now incredible. I find myself having such a beautiful array of foods, of bright colours with such variations and intricacies in their taste that I'm often bewildered as to how I could live so long without realising how fantastic healthy things are. I no longer snack on chocolate and crisps: I treat myself to a home-made blueberry muffin or cranberry cookie occasionally. I haven't given up baking. But dried fruit- who knew it would prove to be such a sufficient filler for those unhealthy regards to a previous behaviour. I am overall happy with my eating, sleeping and working habits. The fact that I've found the time to write such a piece as I am now is astounding, before I'd never have found the energy to pour out my notations into a paragraph.
My only struggle is still working out. I did 40 minutes of jogging yesterday, totalling around 9500 metres, the equivalent to about 6 miles apparently. I was pleased with myself for achieving such a quality of exercise, for managing to stick to my running for a period of time as such without giving up. In fact, I shall be running again within the next hour. If I manage to convince myself to get changed and do so. I find that part hard, getting the juice build up so that I can burst into a good hour of running. I feel it's the only thing I will do, since I don't see the point in doing so much that you begin to loathe moving. I'm not doing it with the intent to destroy my muscles, I just want to prove to myself that it's possible, even for me.
I tell myself that the end product will be worth it.
