I know it sounds like a weird thing to talk about or to even be proud of, but hear me out.
My husband made spaghetti for dinner last night. It was really good and I was hungry, a good hungry. I had eaten my planned snack at about 3:30 so when I got home from work I was ready for dinner. I followed all the little tricks I know: I drank water before I ate, I used a smaller plate, I set my fork down as I ate.
I finished my spaghetti and thought about a second serving. I was still hungry. And at no point in my weight loss journey do I plan on being miserable and hungry. I dished up a second serving, had a few bites, then stopped. Because I was full. I could have kept eating it. Normally, I would have done just that simply because it was in front of me. But, I recognized I was full, knew if I ate anymore I would move past full to uncomfortabe- I had a three mile run on the books and wanted to do some speed work- and I did not have time to be miserable.
I stopped eating because I was full. It seems like such a small, inconsequential thing. To me, it is huge. Such a step in the right direction.
My day of awesomeness didn't stop there. My goal for my three mile run yesterday was to go fast. Not a very complicated training approach, but I figured why not give it a try. I ended up on the treadmill because of the rain around here.
I crushed my fastest 5K time AND I ran a sub-10 minute mile. Sure, I was pretty sure I died about three quarters of the way through that mile, but holy balls I did it. Not a bad way to start my week!