That time...the time where my mind has become so fucking stuck in self hatred and guilt, and FAT. It's actually time to do something about it. And I always feel like...yes! this will be the time. I don't even necessarily want to be happy. I just want to not hate myself.
Monday I'm restarting my Marathon Training. 4 months. And going raw. As raw as I feel like it anyways. Keeps me away from breads and carby shit like pizza. Some of my rules are as follows:
-no more than 1 serving of nuts a day
-no more than 2 cups of coffee or 1 latte a day (I know this isn't raw...I cannot part with my coffee. I literally start to hate my life even more than usual when I'm off it)
-alcohol once a week...again... not raw but whatever. Lyndsey and I have our once a week get together. We rarely get trashed anymore...just sip wine or Mike's and talk.
I kick tomorrow off with a 40 minute run. I haven't been running in weeks. My pants don't even fit. Yes, bingefest galore. I feel awful sick. Disgusting. Just gross.
