and so it begins... again.

In the last few years, since I've gained 25 lbs, lost 20, and then gained 10 of them back again, I'd forgotten about the one thing that I loved, loved, LOVED about working out:

The endorphin high.

Even when I did WW (successfully) last year, I did it through moderating my intake of calories, and not so much about getting active. Oh, I had a thousand excuses: my knees hurt, I wanted to ease back into it, I didn't like my gym, my workout wasn't convenient enough. I tried having my own machine at home, workout videos, two gyms, two Pilates studios, three different kinds of yoga, and all sorts of challenges - and none of them worked.

I worked out every once in a while - begrudingly. I knew I had to do it; I felt flabby and fat, and most of all, weak. What happened to the fierce chick that carried a 28" television up three flights of stairs by herself, or who could kick the crud out of a guy twice her age in boxing class? The six pack bikini, the short skirts with boots, the halter tops?

So I trudged on, not once enjoying it. But after my semi-nervous breakdown this last weekend, where I finally got FED UP with myself, my excuses, and my needing the perfect environment, I got my ass in gear and just went.

And now I remember - the endorphin high. The reason why I worked out 7 days a week - not because I wanted to be all muscle, but because it felt GOOD! I've worked out 2 days in a row, and I can't wait until my work out tonight!

I can't maintain a 7 day a week schedule, at least not one out of guilt. But I'm going to ride this excitement for as long as I can - or at least until I get back into a size 4 'kini.