I’m Not Fat, I’m Big Boned

When we returned from the Outer Banks on August 11th, I made a point to step on the scale the next morning. The scale read a depressing 189 pounds. I gained eight pounds in two weeks, thanks mostly to the delicious food I was shoveling into my gullet. Obviously, I needed to get back to work. So, after two weeks of heading to Planet Fitness and jogging – I did five miles in 56:15, a new personal best Tuesday – I registered at 183 pounds yesterday.

The jog was great because it was the first time I got the “runner’s high” – something I hadn’t seen since high school. I jogged most of the course and only stopped a few times, only for a few seconds. If I wasn’t mistaken, I’d think I was getting in shape.

I mention this because I am scheduled for another prostate checkup in October. If I need another awful biopsy, or if I eventually get a cancer diagnosis, I want to be in the nest shape possible to deal with it.

Until then, I’ll soak in all the compliments I’ve been getting for being slightly less fat.