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We found 10 result(s) that match your search "motivation":

A friend of mine and I were emailing today. I was telling her how tired I was, and that even though I was up until almost midnight last night because of a wicked storm that blew through rather quickly I still got up at 5:30 a.m. to walk.
I don't really know what my motivation is lately, but I'm not questioning it, I told her.
This wasn't the first time I had thought about what my motivation was. For the last almost three months I've made a conscious effort to walk most days of the week. There were some weeks when I couldn't walk at all because I was having serious issues with Byetta and severely elevated blood sugar, but since I ditched the Byetta, I've been able to walk at least five days a week. (READ MORE)

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I have a confession: I haven't exercised since before Thanksgiving. E-gads! Ugh, and I'm so feeling it. My pants are feeling tighter, I'm more tired, I'm more cranky, it's harder to bend over and tie my shoes, blah, blah, blah.
There are so many excuses I could hand out for this (stress being a big one), all of which would come back to me staying up later (right now it's almost my bedtime and I should be getting ready for bed and not writing, for example) and, therefore, having trouble forcing myself out of bed in the morning. I tried blaming it on my alarm clock, too, but I think even that is a cop out.
I absolutely hate making New Year's resolutions. I can never stick to them and I never have really taken them seriously. I don't really know how to get myself to stick to that kind of goal. (READ MORE)

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When it comes to following a healthy meal plan, I usually do pretty well in my own kitchen. It helps that I was diagnosed with diabetes long before I met my husband and he understands my many food quirks. Basically, anything tempting is simply not allowed to enter the house, and if it does, it needs to be under the cloak of darkness.
From time to time, however, a forbidden treat manages to sneak in. A platter of jumbo chocolate chip cookies, a bag of dark chocolate truffles, the defrosted top tier of our wedding cake-all dangerous delights that have found their way into my kitchen in the last few weeks. (READ MORE)

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Hate: That I can't eat cereal (even so-called healthy cereal) for breakfast without taking an excess of 10 units of Novolog. Love: That I have rediscovered that I love having oatmeal for breakfast--and it requires only three to four units of Novolog.
Hate: That "healthier" fare is more expensive. I love cereal for breakfast, but some of my favorite, non-sugared cereals cost twice as much as the sugary stuff and you get half as much in a box. Love: I'm choosier about my meal choices based on carbs and cost.
Hate: That finding a variety of food I like and how to bolus appropriately often involves some seriously high numbers. Love: That I have found some tasty staples I can count on and not have to count carbs or think about how much insulin to take; I just do the same thing I always do and know that it's going to work. (READ MORE)

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As a magazine editor, I am deadline driven. The closer I get to one, the harder I work. I think I've always been this way. In college I tended to leave big projects, studying for tests and semester-grade-defining papers until almost the last minute. I've joked for some time that the reason I haven't written The Great American Novel yet is because no one has given me a deadline for it. I'm like those card-playing patients in Awakenings-someone just has to play the first card. (READ MORE)

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If there's one thing I've learned about prayer it's that sometimes you have to be pretty specific. As you know, I've been having trouble getting up in the morning with enough time for my walk.
So last night as I was doing my bedtime routine, I chanted over and over, "God, please help me get up in time to walk tomorrow." I really wanted to cover all my bases: I set my alarm 10 minutes earlier and decided to take advantage of the dual alarm and set "alarm 1" for 5:30 a.m. and "alarm 2" for 5:35 a.m. so that I'd really be bombarded with noise--and often! (READ MORE)

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I'm not happy about this, but I've settled into a morning pattern that doesn't include my morning walk. And I've found that it's easier to make excuses, too. For example, The Mr. is going on a four-day trip this week and it occurred to me last night (as I was trying to convince myself that I needed to go for my walk this morning since it had been close to a week since I had gone) that I won't be able to take my morning walk for four days this week because there will be no adult in the house to stay with the kids. Well, I gruffed to myself, I may as well skip Monday and Tuesday, too. See how easy that was? (READ MORE)

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Often the best way to figure out if something is going to work is just to do it. I'm a firm believer in learning from mistakes and working out kinks while actually doing what you said you were going to do.
That said, I've realized fairly quickly that I need to revise my list of goals for this month. Only slightly, but particularly my goal to only drink one soda or less per day. While it has been pretty easy to cut out my mindless first-thing-to-the-office soda and replace it with a ginormous cup of water, there are other times of the day when I really crave a soda. And, actually, there are times when a fountain soda can pretty quickly curb my desire for something sweet from the vending machine. (READ MORE)

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I am going to begin this, my very first blog post here, with a confession.
I have fallen off the wagon.
Not the booze wagon; even before my type 2 diagnosis in February 2006, my drinky drink days were mostly behind me. (College was fun, from what I remember.) No, the wagon I have fallen off of is the healthy living, weight-losing, diabetic-under-control wagon.
When I was diagnosed last year, my a1c was hovering above 10, and I was about 35 pounds overweight. I was also terrified. I was 38 years old, with that big number (let's call it "thirty-ten") lurking in the near future. My own father died at the age of fifty-one after about twenty years of poorly managed diabetes. I was determined that this wouldn't be me. (READ MORE)

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I am going to begin this, my very first blog post here, with a confession.
I have fallen off the wagon.
Not the booze wagon; even before my type 2 diagnosis in February 2006, my drinky drink days were mostly behind me. (College was fun, from what I remember.) No, the wagon I have fallen off of is the healthy living, weight-losing, diabetic-under-control wagon.
When I was diagnosed last year, my a1c was hovering above 10, and I was about 35 pounds overweight. I was also terrified. I was 38 years old, with that big number (let's call it "thirty-ten") lurking in the near future. My own father died at the age of fifty-one after about twenty years of poorly managed diabetes. I was determined that this wouldn't be me. (READ MORE)

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