I’m pleased to report a new low this morning: I’m now 105.4 pounds down!

This past week, I’ve had the joy of returning to two things I’ve needed back in my life for a very long time — and both, though they seem distant from each other, required the same processes of stepping out of my comfort zone.

‘The Biggest Loser’ crowns Rachel Frederickson winner after she weighs-in at only at 105 pounds .

The first was last Sunday; I joined a community orchestra. Roughly two years ago, a friend gave me the gift of music in my life, again, by sending me her french horn; something I played for many years, and had meant, at one point, to be a crucial part of my career. That’s not what I ended up doing, and truthfully, when I sold my horn not long after college, I thought I’d likely never get the chance to play with a musical group again.

Last Sunday, that changed. I’d played enough in my own house, occasionally playing to recorded accompaniment on the sound system, but no matter how you cut it, that’s rather lonely. Music is an experience is meant to be shared.  I had looked for a community group to join, but didn’t find one until a few weeks ago; and last Sunday afternoon, I walked into the first rehearsal of the year.

Skipping forward to Monday, I took another step outside my comfort zone: I returned to exercise, after having left it several years ago. I had never been much of a workout maven; not until I started my first big weight loss journey in 2003. That journey truly was a physical one: I started by walking around my yard, and that was all I could manage. I kept walking until I’d created trails through the grass in my yard, and people would honk and wave at me as they drove by on the road in front of my house, because they saw me trudging along at the same time every morning.

From there, I joined the gym with my husband; it was totally alien to me. I swam laps in the gym pool, learned how to walk on a treadmill, and finally moved to the weight room and machines for strength training. What started as a simple lap around the yard graduated to daily 4 mile walks/jogs and strength training every morning before 5 am. Yeah, I was a workout badass for a while; when my daughter and I worked out in the weight room, there were men we out-lifted.

For a while, anyway. Until I injured myself; first by falling on one knee, breaking off a bone spur which lodged under my kneecap, requiring surgery. I came back after that, but I kept injuring myself. I pushed myself beyond the abilities of my body; I broke my own rules about adapting when hitting a wall. I left the gym for a couple years, only to return in 2011-2012. I water walked and jogged; my knees were in horrible condition and I’d regained most of my weight. If you read last week’s blog, you know I gave up on that effort. I left the gym, again.

A friend who works at the gym invited me to come give water aerobics a try — something that, quite honestly, I didn’t think was for me — but I needed to start somewhere. I needed to exercise, again. The time had arrived. So, on Monday morning, I started water aerobics class; it’s my first step back to building muscle and endurance. I’m back at the gym, once again.

Yes, playing french horn in an orchestra and going to water aerobics class have more in common than you may think. These tasks will build on each other. Being a musician requires physical control; lungs, diaphragm, lip muscles (in my case), posture, endurance. (Not to mention, carrying a horn case across a parking lot!) Just sitting in proper posture to play, for two hours on Sunday afternoon, made the muscles in my back hurt.

Likewise, water aerobics — or any cardio exercise — requires a lot of the same things, including endurance and lung capacity. I fully expect that as I progress with both, I’ll likely improve at both faster than I would at either one, taken separately.

But that’s not the biggest common denominator. No, that’s reserved for taking the step to be willing to step outside my comfort zone, and risk being uncomfortable. Believe me, walking into a room of musicians that I’ve never met before, with over 30 years of rust to knock off, took an act of bravery. The reward, for me, was the pure and deep joy of making sound with other musicians; it didn’t matter if I was good or not. I was doing what I set out to do, and welcomed by others who have been in the same place. I left there feeling absolutely exhilarated and challenged.

Returning to the gym, where I have previously given up several times, meant I needed not only to swallow my pride, and once again endure walking into a situation where I didn’t know the people involved, and had never been in a water aerobics class, feeling as if I might be judged for my size just by the act of walking through the doors. I did know the instructor; and once I got going, I felt a lot more comfortable with the situation. Now, I don’t care so much if someone happens to see me there and judge me; after all, I’m there for a reason. All of us are. Judging me for exercising would be stupid, considering everyone who walks through the door has the same goal.

So I leave this week, a better person than I started it, already feeling stronger; perhaps not physically, just yet, but certainly mentally. I’ve come to the conclusion that while I might refer to this weight loss journey as one journey, it’s not, really; it’s a series of new starts. Hurdles that must be met and jumped over, vantage points where it’s okay to rest a while and appreciate where I’ve been before tackling the next set of hurdles along the road.