8 weeks

8 Weeks... 8 weeks... 8 weeks.... There are only 8 weeks until National Capital Fit Day. For some reason I got it into my head that a brilliant thing to accomplish while on maternity leave would be to enter a fitness competition.Yes, I know that sounds insane... it probably is insane, but apparently that isn't stopping me. I have paid my fees, hired a trainer, bought my suit and I am in preparation mode to drop the last few pounds and gain some muscle.

This brings us to today - 8 weeks away from competition. I am terrified - terrified that I don't have the self-control to stick with the meal plan or the ability to transform my body into something reminiscent of a fitness magazine. In the last two days, I have certainly strayed far from the straight and narrow of my eating plan of 7 meals a day of perfectly balanced protein and complex carbohydrates. I have consumed Greek Yogurt and All Natural Peanut Butter in quantities that would horrify my trainer and I have also come to the conclusion that what has been getting in the way of self-control is mostly fear.

Part of my aim for putting myself through this whole process was to develop a better sense of self-control. I have noticed, at least in myself, that living in a 'microwave generation' has done nothing to help me gain self-control. But I don't want to be a product of my generation - I want to shape a generation. What does this have to do with a fitness competition? A whole lot... it means deciding my mind, my will, and my emotions are in submission to a plan bigger than just this moment. It means giving up my temporary sense of control or satisfaction in a cinnabon and a latte for an accomplishment that will give me greater strength for the future.

Tonight that just means forgiving myself for the peanut butter.