We camped for most of this past week, which is why this blog is just being posted now. We love camping, and after nearly three months of only the most essential trips to the store or to care for my mother, we were both ready to get out and enjoy the outdoors. And what a great way it was to have a good time as well as retain social distance.

When we plan any trip at all, one of my own personal decisions is whether I’ll take a food holiday. I had planned several food vacations, of sorts, back before the pandemic canceled travel plans, including a big one that would have been this past ten days in Mexico. I’ve been working hard this spring to get my focus on getting back to my low weight; just a couple of pounds away, now, and finally working beyond it to my 210 pounds off. (Just a reminder that for me personally, that’s a measuring point for health markers before I determine whether it’s a stopping point for maintenance.)

So my decision for what I would eat and drink while camping was really an easier one to make: I usually take a little time off and, consequently, have a few pounds to re-lose after the campout, and I didn’t want that this time. I chose to only pack foods (for me — hubby has different goals) that are ones I usually eat, with a few exceptions that don’t challenge my weight. For instance, we made a low carb chicken pot pie in a Dutch oven that both of us enjoyed. The good news is that I only have a couple pounds to lose; I always gain, so a gain of 2.8 pounds was well within where I wanted to be.

This camping trip was different, though, in ways I didn’t really expect. While I have, in the past, actually brought scales with me on a campout, I no longer do that. I did that a couple years back when it was extremely important to monitor my weight before I had total knee replacement surgery, but we took those scales out of the camper. I’m used to not having that marker for however long we camp, so I have to pay more attention to what my body is telling me. And I usually know; I can feel those changes, now, especially after years of being mindful.

Both hubby and I have also been walking a ton; we both have FitBit watches and challenges we keep up with, but the first full day we camped was swamped with rainfall. We also ahem enjoyed a champagne breakfast that left both of us napping while listening to the rain, and… well… heavy rainfall pooled a bunch of water in our dining canopy and bent the frame. Hubby tried to get the water to drain, and while I was still half-asleep, I slid down the hill to the dining area on my butt. It didn’t hurt me, although it alarmed him; I haven’t fallen once since before my surgeries a couple of years back. I used to be scared to death of falling; well, now, I have a muddy butt slide to claim. It didn’t hurt, it wasn’t scary — just funny in retrospect.

So. Needless to say, neither of us got our normally long walks in on Monday. I had planned to take it easy with some lighter strolls during the week; my FitBit also reminds me to move at least 250 steps every hour. I have become used to that indicator of how I’m doing — for pulse, for sleep, for steps, for fitness goals. And then… it stopped working. Not suddenly, mind you, but more like an old wall clock that starts losing time because the battery is going bad. I finally had to stop fretting over why the silly thing wasn’t even keeping time correctly and set it aside; that’s a marker I’ve become very dependent on, and it’s been rather odd not having it.

A replacement is on its way, but it struck me that I’d become dependent on that marker in the same way I used to be dependent on the scale. Did I get the steps I wanted? Who knows! What about my blasted OCD sleep score? Got me. Imagine, just deciding whether or not you feel well-rested in the morning, or whether your body has told you it’s been moving enough. It was a return to listening to my body for those things instead of relying on an outside indicator of success.

Those outside indicators can lie. The scale doesn’t always show that guilty bag of pretzels or the hard work put in to drop a water weight gain, so remembering that it’s not the end-all, be-all is important. Fitness watches can lie, too; when my husband drives his truck, his FitBit accumulates flights of stairs and steps. These things happen and although I’m a bit ticked that my FitBit needed a warranty replacement (it was a Christmas gift), it was a solid reminder that the only true way I have of knowing my own successes is by listening to my body.