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7 down, 20 to go

I'm not setting my usual goal of 130 lbs.  In 20 years, I've never hit it.  The more reasonable goal of 150 is my new watermark, and if I get lower than that, I'll be happy, but not surprised if it doesn't happen.

The jogs continue.  The food restrictions slide about one meal a week, and it's usually sugar I give in to.  Sunday night it was pizza because I was tired and stressed and trashy pizza sounded sooo good.  But most of the time I'm good.

Today I'm down 7 pounds, and jogging about 10-15 minutes (not consecutive) out of 30.  Monday tried to sabotage me when my phone died (bad battery after 3 months; Apple replaced it, no questions asked) AND I got overbooked on meetings.  I made the effort, though, and got in 20 minutes on the treadmill.  Not ideal -- I really like getting outside and getting some fresh air -- but also better than nothing.

Next week I start taking the train again, and that's when commitment runs the risk of hitting the fan, I fear.  In order to make it to work early enough to get a jog in on my lunch hour, I'll probably need to get up at 5 AM or so.  Ugh.  I may need to consider doing weights + jog in a 30-40 minute window instead.  Dunno.  Would like to complete the 5k training before I go there.

And it'll probably be yet another brick in the wall that is weaning Zoe. We still have our evening nursings, but if I go into work at 6 AM she's still asleep.  She'll be 10 months in a week, and I know this would come someday anyway, but who knew I'd miss it so much?  I honestly didn't understand moms who mourned the passing of nursing time.  I get it now, though.  (And have said so multiple times elsewhere, so I'll stop saying so here.)

This morning I picked her up and blew a raspberry, and she blew one back.  Though she's been mirroring, this is the first time I've consistently had her do it back at me.  She also laughed every time Mike blew on her food this morning.  Cute, cute, cute. ♥

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