Obligatory introduction, and what's heart thirty?

 

So, I'm the person up there on the left. The female.

The other human is my husband, who is relatively awesome. 

And I'm in the process of creating this blog with the intention to change my image a little bit. 

By many accounts, I'm pretty healthy.

I lead a fairly active life, and I work outside a lot.

Most of my hobbies are physical. Horseback riding. Hiking.

I eat a lot, but I manage to eat pretty well a large percentage of the time. Mostly vegetarian, but I am not strict and I do eat seafood any time it looks delicious and in front of me. (So, flexitarian.)

(The rest of the time, I'm eating all the chocolate and candy my spouse likes to keep around. I don't discourage him, so no blame on him.)

I read and hang on every word of Michael Pollan. That counts, right?

My life is incredibly blessed, and I have nothing to complain about.

But with that contentment has come a certain amount of discontentment with my physical appearance. I know that I lie somewhere north of 175 pounds, because 175 pounds is the heaviest I have ever been weighed at, and I'm wearing a similar size in clothes.

I have counted calories, and considered Weight Watchers. I do an obsessive amount of reading about nutrition, and have very strong (and relatively well-educated) opinions on what foods are worth eating and what foods should be spared. But with that reading, and through twenty-five years of knowing myself, I know that beyond a strict diet, the most important thing I can do for myself is to make purposeful exercise a daily part of my life.

The fittest I have ever been (and coincidentally the thinnest and happiest with my physical appearance) was when I ran and walked every day in college. Not crazy miles.. 3 or so a day, tops. I generally managed not to bathe in cake for meals, and was a strict vegetarian at the time, but I really didn't count calories or skip eating out with my friends. I just made exercise a five-days-a-week, very-few-excuses-count kind of deal. And it worked for me.

Unfortunately, I really hated running. It was kind of fun in my tiny college town of Alpine, Texas because that short a run took you through most of town and back. It was mountainous, scenic, and I could do errands on the way. I was also single, living in a solitary apartment, and poor, so it was a great way to get around, see people, and get off of campus. 

So no more running. I've tried it a couple of times, and it makes me really dread working out.

But I am going to commit thirty minutes a day, five days a week to doing something.

Anything for a raised heart rate. And a little sweat.

I already get that many minutes exercise, and more, through my job— but doing repetitive tasks over and over means my body is pretty much used to the rigor of walking the pasture, feeding horses, lifting, saddling, and all those stable-maintenance things. I'm used to it. It's a plateau.

It doesn't matter what time of day. I have a funky schedule and I work a whole lot of hours, simply because I live where I work and animals and children always need caring or instructing.

So I'm going to do my thirty minutes at heart thirty time, every day. Starting now.