I’m bouncing. No, not like Tigger from Winnie the Pooh or like a pair of breasts from some juvenile prank in a cheap movie; I’m bouncing between 186 and 183 in my quest to get my weight down further.

I’ll admit it–it’s discouraging. While I think my fitness is better–for instance, I did a 60 mile ride yesterday morning without any difficulty at all, and faster than I have in a long, long time, as well as earlier in the season than usual–and my waist line is down–the 36 size Tactical 5.11s I got not long ago are actually loose–I’m not reaching my actual goal. Not for lack of trying, but there are days, like yesterday, when I feel like saying, “Just forget the diet. You’re never going to get there.”

It might seem silly, but I prefer the bouncing to just being static–if I was simply stuck at 185, I’d be thinking I was not going anywhere. The fact that there are mornings–not enough of them, but they do happen–where I’m below the 185 mark is encouraging. I just need more of them. And if I can string enough of them together I’ll get there permanently, just like I can get below 180 permanently, and someday–hopefully–170 permanently.

So for now, I’ll take the bouncing, thank you very much. And someday, when I’m done bouncing, it’s because I’ll have hit as bottom as I can get in terms of weight I can healthily shed.