BRENDA'S TRANSFORMATION: My Weight Has Pretty Much Stabilized

Thursday, December 17, 2009

My Weight Has Pretty Much Stabilized

Hello I know I haven't posted anything on this blog in forever. I have been in the lower 180's and holding. If I am to lose anymore weight I think it will be up to me and my sheer will power. Quite frankly I have no desire to diet. Maybe my desire will change later. I am grateful for the weight loss I have gotten, and do feel much better. I do have high blood pressure again. It does run in my family. It is not as bad as it used to be. It is controlled with meds.

2 comments:

Unknown said...: I am glad to hear everything is going good, Keep up the good work. You look great.

Karen

Do you have another blog?; December 27, 2009 at 11:07 AM
Jillian said...: High blood pressure runs in our family?! Yuck! I should get that checked out.; January 13, 2010 at 8:55 PM

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"Get Up And Win The Race"

"Quit, Give up, You're Beaten", They shout at me and plead, "There's Just Too Much Against You Now, This Time You Can't Succeed". And as I start to hang my head in front of failures face, my downward fall is broken by, the memory of a race. And hope refills my weakened will, as I recall the scene, for just, the thought of that short race, rejuvenates my being.

A children's race, young boys, young men, how I remember well. Excitement sure, but also fear, it wasn't hard to tell. They all lined up so full of hope, each thought to win the race, or tie for first, or if not that, at least for second place. And Fathers watched from off the side, each cheering for his son, and each boy hoping to show his Dad that he would be the one.

The whistle blew and off they went young hearts and hopes a fire, to win and be the hero there was each young boys desire. And one boy inparticular, whose dad was in the crowd, was running near the lead and thought "My Dad Will Be So Proud".

But as he speeded down the field, across a shallow dip, the little boy who thought to win, lost his step and slipped. Trying hard to catch himself, his hands flew out to brace. And mid the laughter of the crowd, he fell flat on his face. So down he fell and with him hope, he couldn't win it now. Embarrassed, sad, he only wished he'd disappear somehow. But as he fell, his Dad stood up, and showed his anxious face, which to the boy so clearly said, "Get Up And Win The Race."

He quickly rose, no damage done, behind a bit that's all, And ran with all his might and mind, to make up for his fall. So anxious to restore himself, to catch up and to win. His mind went faster than his legs, he slipped and fell again. He wished that he had quit before, with only one disgrace. "I'M HOPELESS AS A RUNNER NOW, I SHOULDN'T TRY TO RACE".

But in the laughing crowd he searched and found his fathers face, that steady look said again, "Get Up And Win The Race." So Up he jumped to try again, Ten yards behind the last, "If I'm To Gain Those Yards" he thought "I've Got To Move Real Fast". Exerting everything he had, he regained eight or ten, but trying too hard to catch the lead, he slipped and fell again.

Defeat, He lay there silently, a tear dropped from his eye, "There's No Sense Running Anymore, Three Strikes, I'm Out Why Try?" The will to rise had disappeared, all hope had fled away. So far behind, so error prone, a loser all the way. "I've Lost! So What's The Use?" he thought, "I'll Live With My Disgrace, but then he thought about his Dad, who soon he'd have to face, "Get Up, an echo sounded low, "Get Up And Take Your Place." You Were Not Meant For Failure Here, Get Up And Win The Race".

With borrowed will, "Get Up" it said, "You Haven't Lost At All." "For Winning Is No More Than This, To Rise Each Time You Fall." So up he rose once more to run, and with a new commit. He resolved that win or loose, at least he wouldn't quit.

So far behind the others now, the most he'd ever been, still he gave it all he had and ran as though to win. Three times he'd fallen, stumbling, three times he rose again. Too far behind to hope to win, he still ran to the end. They cheered the winning runner, as he crossed the line first place. Head high, and proud, and happy, no falling, no disgrace. But when the fallen youngster, crossed the line last place, the crowd gave him the greater cheer for finishing the race.

And even though he came in last, with head bowed low, unproud, you would have thought he'd won the race, to listen to the crowd. And to his Dad, he sadly said "I Didn't Do So Well." "To Me You Won" his father said, "You Rose Each Time You Fell."

And now when things seem dark and hard, and difficult to face. The memory of that little boy, It helps me in my race. For all of life is like that race, with up's and down's and all. And all you have to do to win, is rise each time you fall. "Quit, Give Up, You're Beaten," They still shout in my face, but another voice within me says, "GET UP AND WIN THE RACE!!!"