For the past few years, Summer has tended to be the time when I’ve felt best about my body. My skin is sun-kissed (after an early Spring trip to someplace warm) and I’m usually in my best shape (after a Winter/Spring spent running on the treadmill and sticking to a strength training routing). And that’s not because of any number on a scale (I haven’t weighed myself in probably 2-3 years) but simply because of how I feel. It means I can keep up with a long run or hard work-out and feel strong, fast and capable. It’s a great feeling.
So what happens when life hands me a really difficult Winter/Spring and instead of working out or jetting off to someplace warm, I spend a season of life indulging in one too many beers/pasta dinners and hiding under the covers? Well, I’ll call it approximately 5 extra pounds of “emotional baggage” and not even a hint of the muscle tone that was out to play last Summer.
So that’s the beach body I’ve got this Summer. Not quite as tan or toned.. but you know what? Still my body. And it walks me to work everyday and it miraculously wards off most of the germs in this city and it’s starting to fight it’s way through runs along the river again and if I give it time it will get back to the place where I feel strong. And honestly, I don’t regret all of the beer (okay maybe one or two of ’em) or the pasta… because I think my body just needed it at that point in time. And that’s okay.
Maybe you’re growing a baby this summer (like my super-woman of a sister) or you had a similarly shit season of life and aren’t exactly in your old racing form. Let’s cut ourselves some slack. Throw on a bathing suit and go to the beach anyway. Summer only comes around once a year after all.
