Just back home from swimming laps. I met two friends at the pool and made an effort to keep up with them as we swam back and forth through the surprisingly warm water. And I found something there in the water - I found the athlete in me. By the end of the first few laps I thought I might die. Thought they'd be scooping me up off the bottom of the pool. But I kept going and eventually found an old rhythm - arms and legs working together to move me through the water. And it felt good. Felt good to move. Felt good to be back in the water. Felt good to look across and see my friends doing the same thing. Realized too late that the shower was gang style - no private little booths curtained off from others. But in a way that works well, too. Made me own up to what I've done to my body. You can't cover up much in a swim suit so it wasn't a huge step to drop it. So I showered in a room full of women and realized that none of their bodies were perfect either. A little cellulite here, a little saggy there.  So instead of focusing on my embarassment, I focused on the fact that I did it. I bought the googles and I showed up. And I'm going back tomorrow because I promised my friends I would. I'm going to rely on those promises to get me to the pool until that old athlete in me kicks in enough to get me to the pool all on my own.  As I sit here at my computer my upper arms are sore and my neck is a bit achey. But in a good way - in a I-moved-my-body-instead-of-being-a-couch-potato way.
So the sun is shining here in upatate New York - a rarity woth mentioning. We have a dusting of snow - just enough to reflect the sun in millions of tiny little sparkles. And why do I even care about the weather? Because I am not sitting here in a sugar haze feeling guilty about what I've eaten. Instead my body knows it moved today and so far I've had a banana and a slice of peanut buttered toast, and a big old salad full of pretty veggies. No guilt. Without all that guilt filling me up and weighing me down I'm able to look out the window and enjoy the view. I'm able to see my surroundings in a positive light.