It's a race. A competition you've been training for non-stop for a long time. All your energy and thought has been poured into it. Every "non-related" decision that you make all day every day is somehow tied to this - what you'll eat, how late you'll stay up, what chores you do and how you do them. It has cost you money and sweat and tears. It has changed who you are...hopefully permanently. And it's almost time to see who wins. You are going for the Gold. Silver is second and NOT good enough. But you still have to keep working. You have exactly five days of this competition left. .... What? You thought I was talking about the Olympics? Nope. I was talking about the battle/competition that is going on in my own home.
Richard and I have been having a weight-loss competition for the last four weeks or so. We each set a goal for ourselves individually. The deal is that whoever looses the greatest percentage of weight by next Saturday morning, wins. What I win... ooops, I mean.... what the winner wins is a shopping trip for new clothes while the looser stays home with the kids. In addition to that prize we decided that if we both reach our goals we'll get some big thing for us as a couple. We keep going back and forth on what the "big thing" is. But that's OK since it's pretty much irrelevant now. I have a good shot at making my goal, but Richard set a much loftier goal than I did and there's pretty much no way he's gonna reach it in the next week.
So that's why last week when I inexplicably gained back three pounds that I had lost I was pretty darn mad. That's why when I re-lost two of those pounds it was still depressing - not happy. And that's why I'm going to the gym today even though I have loads of other stuff to do. Richard and I really are pretty much neck-in-neck as far as the percentage of weight-loss so far. The competition is tight! But you know what's not tight? My pants!