I chanted: Iwillgetupinthemorning. Iwillgetupinthemorning. Iwillgetupinthemorning.

I got up on time.

I did not go back to sleep. (Monday is easy, surprisingly.)

I left on time.

I did not freeze in the 45 degrees.

I pushed.

I coached.

I encouraged.

I praised.

I wondered where the Drill Sergeant was.

I looked for the coyote I've seen three times.

I was surprised my muscles didn't ache.

I praised.

I encouraged.

I walked for the first time in two weeks.

I breathed the cold air in deeply.

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I am a firm believer in goals. Without striving towards something I lose focus. I need to have that bell to ring, button to push, or number to reach to motivate myself.

Currently I am working on losing 40 pounds. I put up a spot on my blog that is titled "Where's the 40?" and beneath it I post a picture of the number I am at in relation to the 40 pounds. Right now I am still in the high 30's but seeing that number motivates me. It gets me to want to make changes so that number changes, and so I will reach my goal.

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In today's environment of cheap-to-the-patient pills that can cure almost anything from a hangnail to cancer, it's sometimes difficult to make significant and often-difficult lifestyle changes on account of a disease or a medical condition. Rarely is this more evident than in the public appearance of Type 2 diabetes.

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"You know," I said to The Mr. this morning as I sat on the bed putting on makeup and getting ready for work, "it's really hard to get out of bed in the morning when we're snuggling."

He smiled and I leaned over to kiss him.

"It is nice, isn't it?" he said. "But you got up and left anyway."

"Well, I wanted to make sure I got to walk this morning because I'm not sure I'll be able to go tomorrow," I said. The Mr. looked at me confusedly. "They're calling for rain. And the high is only 63. It's going to be cold and wet," I argued.

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The other night I had a breakdown.

I needed to wear a nice shirt for work and none of them fit. I threw most of my clothes in the trash and was very upset about how fat I've become.

I have a closet full of clothes that I have outgrown. I have gained all the weight I lost and a lot more!

This is the fattest I've ever been.

But tonight, I am celebrating what I am calling, "My Fattest Night Ever!"

I have decided that tomorrow will be the beginning of the new me. The me that will never ever be this fat again. Someone who makes wiser choices and who tries to find little ways to change so it's not overwhelming.

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I summoned Kerri’s internal motivational speaker this morning, who turned out to be a drill sergeant.

5:18 a.m.: Come on, Michelle, you can do this. You can get out of bed.

The drill sergeant was all nice and sweet until I was in the middle of my walk and ready to slow down (read: quit).

5:42 a.m.: You can’t slow down! It’s only your third day! Keep moving Kowalski! I know you’re sore, but work through it slacker! No, you can’t slow down until you get to that corner!

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