Day the 11th at Fort McCoy

[aadler]

 

Well, this morning I had the long-awaited second height/ weight check. Somehow, over the past tend days, I —

1. grew three-quarters of an inch (my spine must have been really settled in during that first measurement)
             and lost
2. four and a half inches from my waist
3. six per cent body fat, and
4. eighteen total pounds.

Yes, I set a new academy record. The NCO supervising the measure made me step on the scales again. Then he took another look at the record of my original weight. Then he made sure I really was who I said I was. Then he asked me how the hell I’d done that.

Now that I’m eating again, I’m eating carefully. I suffered for what I accomplished, and I don’t want to let things drift back to where they were. Not likely, unless I backslide completely; I’d already lost ten pounds in the seven weeks before I came here (thirteen, actually, but I gained back three the day before I arrived), so I need to just keep doing what I was doing then, and mix in some strength training.

Tomorrow we review, Tuesday we test, then we study for a second test on map overlays (while the few who don’t pass the original test will study for a retest). Not a whole lot left. Tomorrow is supposed to be the most challenging day for PT … but I won’t be there, because I have to report for sick call. Minor problem with blood in the urine, which will probably be totally resolved by the time I show up, but that’s a warning sign you don’t disregard.

After evening chow I walked down to the PX, and bought a bottle of Starbucks vanilla frapuccino, a one-ounce bottle of Kalúah, and a 1.5-ounce bottle of St. Brendan’s Irish Cream. Mixed together, they made a quite workable approximation of a White Russian. Wonderful.

As we near the end of the cycle, we’re allowed to sleep in a bit longer. As in, I now get to bed after dark and get up after dawn. Believe it or not, by now that feels a little strange.

I still haven’t totally abandoned my intention of producing twelve fanfics this year. New ideas are floating in my head, plus I have plenty of old ones. “Queen’s Gambit” is the roadblock. If I can finish that, I’ll have a shot. It will mean two stories a month for the rest of the year, but it’s doable. (I may have to give up on NaNoWriMo again, but not until I’ve made my best effort.)

There are up days and down days. Mostly, though, I love my life. The majority of that goes right back to Susan. I thought I was making a straightforward, rational decision — very simply, things were better with her than without her — but I got blindsided by unexpected, stunning joy. Deserving had nothing to do with it, and I still don’t know how it happened.

I’m now about to question it, though. And I certainly won’t complain.