The Journey of a Thousand Miles Often Ends at Mile Marker 2

"Nothing worth doing is easy." "If it wasn't hard, everybody would do it." "Hard work will pay off in the end." "Some people dream of success... others work for it."

Any of those sound familiar? Yeah, I thought as much. And at the beginning of every project, we feel inspired. Motivated. We believe that, "Hey, yeah! I can do this! Heck, they'll probably write a movie about this. I'll at least get an invitation on Oprah!" 

If only that good feeling would last! If only, everyday, we woke up feeling good and excited about the prospect of positive change. That we really will finally learn why the Great Gatsby is so great; we will learn how to play Mary Had a Little Lamb on the black keys and the white keys on the piano; we will go from couch potato to a 5k runner; that we will stop smoking/drinking/eatinganythingeveragainwithfat. And we make it through the first day, thinking about how it actually feels pretty darn good! Sure I have shin splints/am literally shaking from giving up nicotine/realize that I could just watch the movie and learn why Mr. Gatsby is so awesome - but, damnit, we made it! Through the first day.

And the truth is, you will likely last one day. Heck, maybe a whole week! But regardless of how long you actually make it, let me tell you something: you will hit a wall, and you will want to stop. My New Year's Resolution for 2011 was to get fit and lose weight. I've been open about that, and it's now April and I am still sticking to it. But let me tell you, I saw that wall. And it was huge. Monstrous. It made the Great Wall of China look tiny. I was praying that Ronald Reagan would miraculously appear and say, "Ms. Jenson! Tear down this wall!" 

But he didn't. There was no hunky construction worker around to operate a crane with one of those big cement ball thingies and at least put a tiny hole in that wall so I could see through the other side. I wanted to build a ladder out of Dove bars and peanut butter pretzels to help me get over it. No such luck. 

I was discouraged and tired. I knew I had been doing an awesome job, but I was sick of counting calories and foregoing evening TV for pushups and jumping jacks. Change just wasn't happening fast enough, and I was sick of being the health conscious, vitamin popping, "Oh-my-gosh-I-don't-eat-that-kind-of-food" person. It's just not me, I tried to convince myself. Finally, after gaining 2 pounds in a matter of 5 days, I realized I couldn't quit. I absolutely couldn't. I had come this far, and to turn back now would be to admit defeat.

Finally, I used every ounce of strength in my boot camp toned legs and kicked a big giant hole in that overwhelming brick and cement wall.  I climbed through it, breathed a sigh of relief, and I kept moving forward. 

I have lost 30 - okay, 28 (I rounded up, so sue me!) - pounds. I can do 25 boy pushups. I am stronger and fitter and downright hotter.

I look forward to seeing mile marker 1000. And then I'm going to eat a whole pint of full fat Haagen Dazs. With whipped cream. And hot fudge. Maybe some French fries, too. Oh, and buy a slinky bikini. But probably not in that order. 

Forgive me as I leave you with this cliche