"I am still 25 pounds from my goal."
The good news, and it's really good news. My knee is feeling considerably better, thanks to a new anti-inflammatory prescription and my new best friend Mr. Ice. I ice my knees for 20 minutes after I play squash. Then I ice them again on the days I don't play squash.
I bought a $42 ice knee wrap that I bring to the squash court with me every morning I play. I put the whole thing (two ice packs inserted into the pockets of a wrap that fits perfectly around my knee).
I've been moving better than I have in months. I can actually get around the court without looking like the the Tin Man in The Wizard of Oz in desperate need of an oil can instead of a brain. It feels great. I don't want to jinx it by talking about it too much.
The bad news. I'm having a devil of a time getting back into weight loss mode.
I'd like to blame it on Alaina's mother's seriously delicious peanut brittle, or the equally tasty Allen & Son barbecue that also made it back from her North Carolina sojourn last weekend, or the Prince's fried chicken Erin brought back from Nashville, or the Elvis pie (peanut butter, bananas, and bacon crumbles) FOSE (Friend of Serious Eats) and blogger Brownie of Blondie and Brownie showed up with to celebrate the King's birthday.
But the fact of the matter is there's only one person to blame: uhh, that would be me. The formerly fat, formerly red-headed Serious Eats overlord. I simply didn't exert enough self-control at the crucial moments this past week. But I do take some consolation in what I have achieved in this marathon (lifelong) endeavor I am calling my serious diet.
It was a little more than two years ago that I weighed 265, and even if I gained a pound or two this week, I will still be down 40 pounds from my peak. But I shouldn't pat myself on the back too much. I am still 25 pounds from my goal.
224. Up two pounds from last week. Repeat after me, self: It's a long race, it's a long race, I'm still down 40 pounds and my knees are feeling better.