And not just the kind of “I don’t feel like I’m going to die as quickly now as I did when I started” kind of well.
It wasn’t much of a thought when I started, although I knew in the back of my mind that I would probably drop some weight once I got into this a little bit. But after last Wednesday’s run — and only because I accidentally dropped a pile of dirty clothes next to the damn thing — I stepped on the scale we keep in the bedroom.
For the last few years, my weight has settled in around 255. Way too much, yes, but, hey, at least it’s been consistent.
On Wednesday? 242. This morning? 239.