The last couple of weeks, I’ve done big stuff — like, really big — for me.
The weekend before last was a big party weekend with a club I’m in. It included camping. In the rain. In trying circumstances that aren’t usually an issue when camping, but I got through them. I’m also fairly close to being able to manage the camper myself; I just need to learn how to tow it and put down/take up stabilizing jacks. Everything else? I can do it, and not to be mean about it at all, but I’m also well aware that many of my perfectly fit friends wouldn’t attempt such a thing. 😛
Phun, phun, phun at the tailgate!
Last weekend my husband and I drove down to visit our daughter and her husband, but we also attended a Buffett tailgate and concert in Frisco, Texas. If you don’t know anything about Jimmy Buffett or the legendary tailgates associated with his concerts (which also included ZZ Top this time — BIG concert!), you haven’t experienced the ultimate in tailgates. It’s truly a wild and fun experience.
And A LOT of walking. For me, 5.87 miles worth, to be exact — which far exceeds any daily walk total I’ve had to this point. By the end of the day, both hubby and I were dragging; he also suffers from knee issues, so we basically raced back to our vehicle like tortoises, but we made it. My feet and knees needed some recovery time, but I survived it all, and it was worth the effort. This would have been absolutely unthinkable even six months ago.
The concert venue itself was on a soccer field with small folding chairs that have seen better days. 148 pounds ago, I would have freaked out if I’d seen the chairs, knowing without a doubt that they wouldn’t hold me — if I’d even made it down to the field at all, and not had a panic attack from how close everyone was. The more I weigh, the more I fear crowds generally and being boxed in particularly. I was anxious at first but managed to relax enough to have a great time with friends. (And huge thanks to those of you that assisted me — you know who you are, and I am indebted.)
These are positive experiences, but when I returned home and stepped on the scale, I had bad news waiting after nearly two weeks of being on the road and not eating and exercising the way I normally do. I’ve got some work to do to get back down to my low again — and surpass it — so I can claim that 150 pounds down.
When I gain weight, I tend to have to correct my thinking; just the pain in my knees after walking such a long distance last Saturday reminded me clearly of how my knees felt a couple of years ago. They’re better, now, but I have no desire to go backward in time.
This morning, I also saw a photo on Facebook, taken four years ago, of a great time I had with friends; taken when I was at or near my highest weight ever and had yet taken my first step on my current weight loss journey. It used to make me cringe to see such photos, and I’m sure I dreaded having my photo taken at that moment. These days, it’s merely an indicator of where I was at that point in my life. The issues that plagued me, then, are behind me as long as I keep pushing forward.
I find it strange that I can have two big weekends of success and then when my brain knows my weight, it erases that good for me and I start to worry. I suppose that’s positive, in a way, because I always need to be diligent about keeping my focus, but I have to remember that my future isn’t written, yet. I’m the writer. It’s entirely up to me to continue doing new and great things or to slide back to where I’ve been. I don’t have to repeat the trials I’ve been through in the
I don’t have to repeat the trials I’ve been through in the past, and I don’t have to accept that my future is already defined. The shape of my future (and my butt!) is up to me. I’m going to keep writing better chapters.
This isn’t one of my normal blog entries; it’s more about getting caught up.
Last week, I didn’t write a blog — not because I fell off the wagon or neglected it, but rather because the laptop I took camping with me decided it also needed a few days off and malfunctioned on me. It’s back up and running a bit better after some work on it today, so I’m going to slog through a quick recap in anticipation of this next blog, as well.
That was a MUCH smaller creek when we set up camp.
So — no cool pics, no music video… just me. (Okay, maybe one pic.)
We went camping last weekend; part just pleasure, part because of an annual event where some of the party goers camp. It’s always a lot of fun and I was looking forward to it, but honestly, lots of stuff just didn’t go my way.
For one thing, it rained like crazy. For another, the campground had us in a campsite next to a creek… and heavy rains with creeks? Well, you can see the picture, here. (Literally. See right.) The waters rose nearly to our campsite. It was muddy as heck. We couldn’t cook outdoors. And the bugs were partying more than we ever thought about — mostly in my eyes, nose, and ears.
At least there wasn’t damage done, other than just a lot of exhausting activity. I met my step goals every day and then some, and the weather complications certainly added to the workload — much more to clean, keep dry, mitigate. Needless to say, by the time we got home, all I wanted was a hot shower and a three-day nap.
Not that I got it. The day after we came back, I washed several loads of clothes, we opened the camper back up so it could dry out a bit, ran errands, took my mother to an appointment, and yes, packed for the next road trip. We leave tomorrow morning, heading to visit my daughter and her husband, a dear friend, and then on Saturday, a full day of tailgating and then see Jimmy Buffett and ZZ Top in concert.
In other words, the pace certainly isn’t letting up, and Saturday will be one tremendously long day — followed by a day of travel on Sunday. I’m making the prediction, now, that Saturday will be the most steps I’ve accounted for yet on this journey.
And while all this has certainly been trying, it’s also a victory on a lot of levels. While all this activity is exhausting, the real miracle here is that I’m able to do it at all; I couldn’t, even last year. Just walking from the campsite to the closest bathroom was beyond my abilities, and this past camping trip, I walked twice as far in each direction without issue. I carried things, cleaned, cooked, put up camp, took down camp, cussed the rain, cussed the bugs even more, but I did it.
I did it.
I also never would have even considered a tailgate in a field for an entire day and then heading for a big concert in a stadium. The thing is, right now, I know I can do it. I can make it through the day and the concert, even though I’m sure I’ll sleep like a rock afterward.
So there you have two weeks’ worth of blogging rolled into one entry. While I’m up in weight from camping and traveling, my ability to walk and to just do has surprised me once again, and this is pretty exciting and satisfying stuff.
Sometimes, it’s not about weight loss. Sometimes, it’s about getting your head on straight and finding some equilibrium.
That’s what I’ve been facing for the last week or two. I’ve been doing well, finding a nice rhythm — when I hit a few roadblocks. They have little to do with weight loss directly; much more to do with the way I process challenges and threats to the things I value.
Wait, *what*?
One was a work situation that was beyond my control, and the cards went against me, at least for the time being. The other was a threat to something I really enjoy and just recently have added back into my life: music. Both were matters that were in the hands of other people, and I’m old enough to know (… most of the time) that I can’t control other people.
But I can certainly choose my reactions, no matter how trying they might be. That’s where these situations have needled their way into my brain space and, as a result, I’ve struggled to maintain in control of those things I can control. What I shove in my mouth, how much of it, and how much I move — those things are always within my control. Somewhere in my brain, I still have a bit of leftover wiring that short-circuits. Stressful situations have nothing at all to do with food, and I’m not *usually* a stress eater, but I have been this past week or two.
I hate it. I’ve known I’ve been doing it while I’ve been doing it, and done it anyway. It’s not that I’ve flown totally off the wagon and snorted cupcakes; no, the food I’ve been eating is perfectly legal under my food plan — just far too much of it. And you know what? Eating too much didn’t relieve the stress or really even make me feel any better — things I knew before I ever over-ate.
No, what really made a difference is thinking and digesting the situations at hand and how to handle them to my best advantage. Both are really still very much in the works, but after actually challenging myself and looking for solutions instead of dreading consequences, I am at least closer to finding some peace. And that’s what is most important.
When that balance is off — when I allow that balance to teeter and become lopsided— one of the side effects is that ever-widening ripple that affects much more than just the simple matter at hand. Getting in control of those situations quicker and not backing off solutions has to become more second nature for me; when I’m tired and busy, I let that guard down, and that’s when small ripples from pebbles turn into tidal waves.
Regaining balance takes constant attention and the desire to maintain it. These are lessons I apparently still need to learn. I need to shake it off and move forward instead of getting hung up.
Of course, there are the normal measurements you’d expect: my weight, my clothing size, inches for various parts of my body.
I also measure food, which you’d expect. I measure how many ounces of water I drink. I measure my steps as well as how much I sleep. I know the distances I walk. I can tell you within a few steps how far it is around my yard, to the corner of my street and back, up to the next stop sign and back, around the block, and around various configurations of my immediate neighborhood and beyond.
I also know what’s changed from where I started, right down to the fact that I now wear a full size smaller shoe.
I know, roughly, my average heartbeat. Add to that, my blood pressure.
Eat Less, Move More! Calories In, Calories Out!
With all these stats at my fingertips, you’d think I’d be able to predict when and how much weight I should lose in a given time period. That’s absolutely not true because my body — and likely your body, as well — doesn’t necessarily conform to the absolute simplicity of “calories in, calories out”.
That simple maxim is only true to a point. A certain percentage of my stats are misleading. My FitBit tells me I burned 500 calories before I even woke up, for instance — but that information is based on averages and not on my body, with its metabolic challenges and other issues. It doesn’t know how much metabolically active muscle I have; no, its numbers are based on my height, weight, age, and other profile information. It has no way of truly knowing without a doubt that I have burned 500 calories in my sleep.
The same holds true for exercise calories; a nice walk for 20 minutes shows as burning around 160 calories, but there’s no way of knowing if that’s actually accurate, which is why I refuse to eat my exercise calories. I work on the assumption that my body didn’t burn a single calorie, because the truth is, that number is also derived from averages.
I also have no idea how my body will truly use the breakfast I ate this morning. Will it all go for energy? Will my body’s metabolic mechanisms deprive my body of energy and instead send that to storage? I have no definite way of knowing this.
This is, without a doubt, the most frustrating thing about weight loss. For a large percentage of us, it’s just not as easy as “eat less, move more”, even though that’s good advice. Unfortunately, for many years, the diet industry has fed us eat less, move more and calories in should be less than calories out, and if we still fail to lose weight, we’ve been told we’re doing something wrong. Sure, there are folks who do it wrong, but weight management is a lot more complex than these simple platitudes.
I go through times like this; I had a big loss a couple of weeks ago, but not since then. There are things I have changed and that’s the likely reason why, but I also know that my losses are not all visible on the scale, and they never reflect a nice, clean graph with a line moving steadily downward.
Why do I stick it out? It’s as simple as those measurable things — the benefits I have received are immeasurable. I can’t begin to describe the elation I feel in simply holding my head up and walking without issues, and last night, I wore 2” wedges, which was beyond my ability when I bought them just last year. Those are simple things that I never would have given a thought to when I was young and didn’t have a weight issue; now, they’re non-scale victories that I treasure.
Those simple gifts keep growing as I keep going, and they are the reason I can look past the fallability of weight loss stats.
I inherited a lot of things from my mother, but two things are for sure: hazel eyes and a love for the outdoors.
I grew up across the street from a lake and spent a great deal of my time outside, adventuring. If I wasn’t swimming or canoeing, I was ice skating or sledding. I also spent a lot of time riding bikes and hiking.
One of our favorite local hikes was down The Old Boyscout Trail. Back in the early 1900’s, it was a railroad line, but by the time I was a kid, the tracks had been torn up and nothing was left but a path on the old right-of-way. Echo Lake sat just off the trail, and it was a favorite spot for sitting on the willow-lined bank and fishing, or just contemplating life. Even though it was a stone’s throw away from town, I could drink in the fresh air and the sunshine, and believe I was somewhere far away.
A great blue heron in flight — truly a thing of beauty.
We were a scouting family; my parents were volunteers (and later, my mother was a professional within the organization), and my brothers were both involved. I had the unique experience of spending an entire summer living in a Boy Scout camp in Wisconsin. I was around 6 years old at the time, so I didn’t think it was nearly as fascinating as I might have, had I been older. 😉
Over the years, there were plenty of camping trips, hikes, and I was a scout in my own right: first as a Camp Fire Girl and then as an Explorer Scout. After I became a young adult with a job, Mom and I still went on camping trips, just the two of us; our favorite place to go was the middle of a scout camp (no scouts present at the time), with 2800 acres to ourselves. (Okay, there was a ranger on staff, but it was still pretty secluded!) We pitched a tent on the lakeshore, built a fire, watched the embers disappear into the dark as we talked, and hoped the coyotes would stay at bay. We canoed the lake; she hooked a large mouth bass, and I hooked her earlobe and had to remove the hook while balanced in the canoe in the middle of the lake.
One of my biggest regrets in gaining as much weight as I allowed myself to gain has been the loss of freedom I always felt in the outdoors. Carrying too much weight limited my movement; no more hikes, no more boating, and even tent camping became quite difficult. It’s only been lately that I’ve started being able to enjoy these things, again.
Over the course of this past spring, I’ve been taking Mom on ‘field trips’ to local campgrounds; we’ll drive somewhere for a small picnic and just get outside and enjoy the things we both enjoyed when we were younger. This past week, it was a trip to a campground on the Arkansas River, where we watched a great blue heron work the river bank while we ate lunch at a picnic table nearby. An enormous turtle sunned itself on an outcrop, with smaller turtles wedging in to share the space. Canadian geese were everywhere, and we spied several young geese, still fuzzy and gawky.
Losing weight and gaining mobility means I’ve been able to regain a small bit of my prior outdoor activities; the love of it has never left me, only become smaller. I regret that I was so selfish in having allowed myself to be robbed of years when I could have still been actively doing these things with my family; with my mother, who taught me to love the outdoors with gusto. I yearn to live that larger life, again, and to adventure, and see where the trail leads me.
Since I’m a matter of 1.8 pounds away from 150 pounds as of this morning (148.2 pounds down!), I’ve been thinking about the things that got me here.
Things I’ve learned this time over the last time I lost 140 pounds:
Slower is better for me.
When I lost 140 pounds, before, I lost it relatively fast; the majority of my weight was gone in a year, before it really slowed down, and it took about 18 months total to level out at 140 and stay there for a couple of years. After that couple of years maintenance, it creeped back on pretty quickly. I had a heck of a time keeping my weight within an acceptable range.
My brain really never truly and fully accepted my body’s changes, and because of that, I sabotaged myself without really realizing I was doing it.
I felt like a fraud most of the time — a fat person trying to pass herself off as some closing in on a normal weight. I couldn’t accept that I really was that person that was just overweight instead of morbidly obese. I felt like I had to constantly prove myself; if the scale wasn’t moving, I needed to do adverse things to get it to move. And, wouldn’t you know it, I plateaued and stayed at one point for the better part of two years, and then crashed and burned.
I thought about everything I ate during that time when I was actively losing and when I plateaued — and I still do, but it’s from an entirely different perspective, now. I have a much better idea where my food triggers are, what the consequences will be if I choose to eat something that’s a trigger, where my zones are for losing, and how my body works.
148 pounds of lap dog. Who’s a good boy?!
Before, I convinced myself I could eat more because of the amount of exercise I did; for me, that wasn’t possible, because my metabolism doesn’t forgive calories that way. I overate on protein, thinking I was burning it all up. Not so — the body can and will store overages of protein the same way it stores overages of anything else.
I was also stubborn about things. My brain stubbornly refused to let go of the notion that I should review what I was doing and change my tactics. Instead, I kept spinning my wheels and digging myself into a rut.
Taking weight loss slower has allowed my thinking to evolve along with my body. I’m more willing to try different things to see how they work. I’m more educated on the workings of my own body’s reactions and changes, even though I’m still occasionally surprised. While I still have my fat-brain days, I have a truer idea of both my current abilities and my capabilities.
Letting go of being inflexible has helped immensely.
You can’t exercise yourself thin.
Now, before anyone disagrees with me on this, I do believe that exercise plays a crucial role in overall health. Two people of the same weight look vastly different if one is a couch potato and the other works out on a regular basis; muscle takes up less room than fat, so the more muscular of those two people will appear slimmer. Muscle is also metabolically active, which is a great thing for anyone wanting to manage their weight.
That said, there are a lot of fallacies out there regarding exercise, especially with the advent of shows like The Biggest Loser, which I watched for a couple of seasons, and then stopped because it angered me. I felt it perpetuated the idea that if fat people would only make some effort and stop eating, they’d drop all their weight. That’s only partially true.
On that 140 pound loss, I started early on by walking and adding to the length over time. I started adding strength workouts, and that was good, too. Eventually, I peaked, but kept pushing past that peak to the point where I injured myself, and constantly felt bad. The effort I made didn’t give me results even close to that effort. I over-exercised to the point of exhaustion, as if I were training for some big competition. I spent 90% of the time feeling sore and longing for recovery weeks.
I sacrificed far too much in the hopes that I’d increase my metabolism and lose weight, and ended up doing it entirely wrong — for me.
This time around, I only recently started walking, again — not because I didn’t think it was necessary, but because I needed to lose enough weight to make walking comfortably possible, again. I add a little bit at a time. I can feel myself getting stronger, and I would only call this light to moderate exercise. For me, though, I’ve been able to lose all the weight I did originally without exercise.
Sure, I’m larger right now than back then at the same weight. I’m well aware that I’d look tjommer and be stronger if I were still strength building, but back then, I believed that was the only way for me to maintain my weight — and I’m learning that’s not true at all.
My goals are to increase over time to moderate exercise; enough to generate health benefits without making me long for recovery weeks.
You can certainly change how your body looks with exercise, and I recommend it; but inevitably, it’s what you put in your mouth that makes the biggest difference, and there has to be a happy medium so that my lifestyle is one I enjoy, not dread.
I have nothing to prove.
During that first 140 pound loss, I felt like I had to prove myself. I’m sure a lot of overweight people feel this way, especially if they are obese, because they’ve endured a lifetime of both overt and covert judging regarding the extra weight they carry. When they make the effort to lose weight, they may be afraid to say anything, because others will then think “finally! It’s about time!”
If they fail, then, they feel exposed.
I drew a lot of attention when I lost 140 pounds. People didn’t recognize me because the weight dropped so fast. They were excited for me, but then I’d be asked for constant updates, and the pressure was on. If I couldn’t produce results, I felt like a failure — when what I was really doing was setting myself up for failure. And, of course, I failed. Big surprise, eh?
Big surprise, eh?
This time around, the changes have been slow and I’ve adapted better. I have nothing to prove, except to myself. If people think I should be losing weight faster or doing something differently than what I am, that’s on them, not me. I will get to my goals in my own time, and no one else’s. My accomplishments are for me, not to impress anyone else.
I created this blog to be accountable — both to myself and to those I value, because I’m really good at not being truthful with myself. Knowing the level of transparency expected of me keeps me honest. I admit that I often feel like I’m disappointing folks on the many weeks I don’t report a loss, but that’s my journey; how boring would this be, if I blogged about losing exactly two pounds every week?
As it is, my average loss per week is .75 pounds — that’s an average, and if you’ve been around a while, you know there are plenty of weeks that go by with no loss at all. It’s not a constant. That can be aggravating at times, but being persistent pays off.
The road to success looks more like a drunk on a mule charted it than a nice, flat highway.
My first big weight loss was pretty predictable for the first 100 pounds or so. I dropped weight in steps; I wouldn’t lose anything for three weeks, and then the week before my period, I’d drop 10-15 pounds. Every month. My weight loss graph looked like a staircase.
This time around, I was more than a decade older, past menopause, with other health complications that were finally being treated, but treatment doesn’t mean it’s suddenly easy to lose weight. My weight loss graph looks more like a tilted EKG, these days. I’ll drift up and then down, flat-line (OMG!), and drop again. It jumps around quite a bit and there’s no predictable indicator of anything, really. Trends, perhaps, but nothing I can look at and predict my loss down the road.
It’s taught me patience that I didn’t have before. It’s taught me to look at indicators other than weight loss for signs of success. I know how my clothes fit, for instance, and the variations are easier to tell the more weight I lose.
I should live more in the moment.
Losing the bulk of 140 pounds in a year meant I basically lived in thrift shop clothes so I wouldn’t go broke. Seldom did I find something I just absolutely adored, though. So when I kept smaller clothes and have found myself working my way down through them, now, some of them have been donated before I ever got back into them.
Why? Well, for one thing, they’re a decade or older, and some were just too far out of style to bother, even if I’m not a fashion plate. For another, I want to treat myself better and enjoy every moment, which means I want to like what I wear, what I do, how I spend my time.
I spent far too much time, back then, living a life that would get me to an eventual goal instead of living a life I actually fully enjoyed. I made do, I got by, I did things to move me forward — all well and good, but I denied myself the pure enjoyment of just living.
This journey has been about learning to change while creating a new lifestyle that’s not only manageable but rewarding, as well. I used to live thinking about the future; when I get down to size 10, when I’m thin enough, when I lose enough weight… all those were some distant goal and anything short of that goal was just along the way. Now, I take joy and where I am at this moment, and only a small portion of my day is given over to weight loss; it doesn’t define me the way it once did.
Living in the moment means I can find joy in the things I give my time to, whether it’s just day to day activities, giving myself over to my music, my work, or getting out and having fun. I don’t torture and punish myself in the name of weight loss. And most of all, I do not deprive myself of the things I love and enjoy.
I’m but a few pounds away from 150 pounds down. I initially plotted to lose 200 pounds, and then evaluate at that point where my health is. Here I am, nearly 3/4th of the way there — and while I know there are those that think a nearly four year long weight loss effort seems like a long time to endure, I actually am stunned to be at this point, with the reality that not only have I been successful, but that next 50 pounds is fully and completely in my power to reach.
A couple of weekends ago, I dropped my husband off at a friend’s house and made my way over to another friend’s house to visit for a bit. They live several miles apart, and while I knew the way there from my house, that’s from a different direction. I suspected there was an easier way to get there, and my husband gave me a landmark along the way, so I pulled out my phone and plugged that location into my phone’s maps app.
I made it to that midpoint just fine but then decided to just look at the map and judge the rest of the way for myself. I was familiar with most of the roads and figured I’d recognize the landmarks to get me to my friend’s house once I was in her neighborhood.
What should I do with the fork, once I take it?
Oh, how wrong I was!
I suspected I was on the wrong course when I passed into another county, but thought maybe the road would turn back across the county line. It didn’t. I finally found a stopping point and put the right information into the mapping program, got on my way, and finally arrived at her house. I certainly didn’t save myself any time at all, but at least I got there!
Every once in a while, I go “off-map” and convince myself I’m on plan with my eating, even though I’m really not. I’ve done that recently. I tell myself I know the way perfectly well, and even though I see the signs that I’m veering off-course, I don’t turn myself around right away; I just keep going off-course and then have to make up more time in getting back on the right path.
The last week has been about finding my bearings and getting back on the right road. I didn’t stray too far from my path, but I really needed to pay more attention to the indicators that I’d made a wrong turn at some point, because it costs me time and effort to get back on track. Time and effort that could have been spent getting closer to my goals.
So here I am — back on track, hovering just above my low, and needing to remind myself that maps are made for a reason, whether they’re for finding my way to a friend’s house or finding my way back to where I need to be on my eating plan. I’m back to tracking everything I eat (I wasn’t being completely honest with myself), weighing daily (necessary for me, but not for everyone), drinking all the water I should be, getting enough sleep, meeting my step goals.
When I do everything necessary to get closer to my goals, I’ll move forward instead of feeling like I’m in a maze with no end.
I haven’t lost weight in the last month or so — I’m still just above my low — but something different is going on.
I’m getting muscle tone back. The more I walk, the more confident I feel; the muscles in my legs and core are getting stronger. I am more sure-footed. And while I may not be losing weight, I’m losing inches; more clothes are going in the sell/donate pile, and I am right on the verge of dropping out of wearing plus-size clothing. Well — from the waist up, anyway, and a girl’s got to start somewhere!
No jumping to conclusions, people!
I really noticed this last week, when I took my mother to an annual appointment that happens to be in a small nearby hospital. I’ve had to cop out of walking in with her, before, because I felt the walk was too far for me. I felt absolutely horrible once because she fell in the hallway after leaving her appointment; she hit her head and ended up in the emergency room. I should have been there to keep her from falling.
This time, I walked back with her, and then she told me she forgot something in the car, so I trotted out to the parking lot and back, and then walked her to the appointment location, further in the hospital. She seemed a bit off-balance, but to me, the walk was no longer a big deal at all. My walking abilities used to be close to what she is, now, and she’s nearly 30 years my senior.
I joked with someone, recently, when they said they were growing old; I said I’m aging in reverse — I’m getting younger! Instead of my abilities leaving me, they’re coming back. Because I can go out and do more things, I find myself wanting to get out and do more things. And why not enjoy these new-to-me-once-again times?
Yesterday morning, I took my mother on a “field trip” to a local state park. She loves the outdoors even more than I do, and we had a great time; I packed a lunch, and we meandered around a bit. We sat lakeside and enjoyed the breeze on our faces, and I checked out a campsite we plan on camping at in the near future. Later yesterday evening, I wore a new top, and met my friends for dinner, wearing wedge heels that I bought last year but still felt too unstable to wear. I couldn’t walk down the hallway in them, then. Now? They’re comfy and easy!
This comes down to appreciating these changes; why sit inside on a beautiful day, if I don’t have to? Why merely choose to exist, when I can do so much more? At this point, my health starts to self-perpetuate: the more I do, the more I want to do, and nothing is going to stop me, now.
I’m pretty sure we’ve all done the same thing at the beginning of a diet. We calculate how much we think we can lose by a certain time and reach a certain size.
And then it doesn’t happen.
I used to do that, but the big diets I have been on later in my life have made that all but an impossible feat, although I certainly had high hopes the first time I lost a major amount of weight. As I’ve said before, this time I started with a tiny sliver of hope, but I really didn’t believe that 3.5 years down the road, I would end up being more successful than I’ve ever been with a weight loss program.
What he said.
In part, as I’ve also explained, it’s because this time I see this as a journey and a process, not so much a diet. I knew from previous experience that I’d have to roll with the punches, change things up, adapt, change my goals, reconsider, review, research, and renew. Bodies change with weight loss and our thinking has to change along with them.
Some general goals, though, have stayed constant. I want to improve my health to lower my health risks as much as possible. I want to regain as much of my physical abilities as possible. These two things, combined, outweigh any other goal I have, because they are the combo that will extend my life and bring as much quality to it as possible. I am no spring chicken, and as I near my retirement years, I want to enjoy those years as much as I can.
These are the areas where I still struggle, and where I need the most work. At this stage, eating the right things is easy; it’s the rest that’s challenging.
This week, I hit a bit of a wall. It’s been a struggle to meet my step goal the last few days; the weather hasn’t been cooperative and I’ve also had a number of appointments that prevented me from getting out and walking. I was annoyed, to say the least; I know I need those steps. My leg muscles need the strength, and I’d just feel bad if I gave into my desire to just sit and not get up and meet the goals.
I pushed myself to meet those goals. I live in a small town and the places I can walk in the rain are limited. I’m not able to walk on a treadmill because of my gait. On Tuesday, I ended up in Walmart — twice — putting in steps. I weaved up and down the aisles. Yes, I ended up buying a few things; namely, three tubes of Burt’s Bees lip balm and a fanny pack, since my warm-ups don’t have pockets. A bit goofy, yes, but I got the steps in. I made myself a deal that yesterday I’d get up and walk early, so I did, walking my neighborhood before dawn. My goals are easier to meet when I do more earlier in the day.
I also hit a tough roadblock on Wednesday; one that’s hitting me hard, since it means the plans I had been working toward for knee surgery will need to change. I’ll be honest about it: my first thought was to just say screw this and eat or drink my feelings, because this is a major goal I’ve been working toward for a number of years. I’m put out that my plans have been inadvertently changed; while some people start out diets, thinking about a summer body, I’ve been working toward knee replacement surgery, in hopes of shedding over a decade of chronic pain. When I started my journey, I set my sites on getting healthy enough and thin enough to accomplish that goal, and it’s been a driving force in much of what I do.
But life isn’t fair. Things don’t work out the way you hope. And I have to choose my reactions to this setback.
My reaction: I’m doubling down. Had I not made changes 3.5 years ago, knee surgery would have been far too risky and completely out of the question. Now, that’s not the case at all, but I can certainly stand to keep losing weight, keep getting stronger and healthier. So that’s what I’m going to do: I am still going to win this thing. Just because it’s not working the way I had originally hoped does not mean I give up or change course.
I can’t always get what I want, but I can certainly keep pushing toward that goal, a little farther down the road than originally planned — and get what I need.
Despite having been on this journey for three and a half years, my body is still surprising me.
At this moment, my surprises are my physical changes, specifically from exercise. A few months ago, I started wearing an old FitBit, just so I’d have a more accurate way to count steps than using my phone. Since that time, I’ve gradually increased my step goals from around 500 a day to 4,000 – and I’m meeting those goals. At the end of each week, I listen to my body; sometimes I increase that goal, and sometimes I stay put until I’m more consistent.
I wish I’d thought of that!
I’ve been paying attention and listening to my body all along, but physical activity and exercise is a different kind of listening. I often check myself, because I worry that I’m being too easy on myself — but my instincts say that this is the right way. I remember putting 4,000 steps on one day early in the process and my knees hurt badly the next day. Now, 4,000 steps is a pleasant challenge; not entirely easy, but not simple, either. Considering that not so long ago, I struggled to walk even around my own home without the use of a cane, this is fantastic!
My muscles are getting stronger. Walking helps more than just my knees and my legs; it’s helping my balance, my endurance, even my breathing. Getting out and about throughout the day also has helped my mental attitude, getting away from whatever I’m working on at the moment, often taking my dog along. There are just no negatives right now, although I’ll admit that on our recent rainy days, I have tended to get my steps in inside a store or community center. Sometimes that’s not the best thing for my budget. 😉
Simply put, I feel stronger, overall, since I started walking. It’s also another freeing move for me. I can’t tell you how many places I’ve wanted to go that I’ve reconsidered because of mobility issues; while I’m not going to go walk a marathon any time soon, I certainly don’t have the concerns about getting around that I used to.
My goal is to reach 10,000 steps a day. I don’t know when I’ll reach that point, but there’s not a rush; I’ll get there and I know it’ll happen.
Many programs recommend 10,000 steps a day for losing weight. I’m going to make this clear right now — that’s not why I’m doing it. Sure, my end goal is to lose weight, but that’s just part of the overall picture; the ultimate goal is to be healthy, and cardiovascular and muscular health are huge parts of that. Being mobile, having the ability to do all the things I want to do, and knowing my health is improving — that’s what I’m after.
It’s also a relief. When I walked for exercise years ago, I had time/distance targets and I always walked to music. That’s not a bad thing to do, but I always felt compelled to do it, rather than wanting to just get out and enjoy myself as I walked. Now I walk without distractions, and I take in everything around me, whether it’s on a park trail or in my neighborhood. I think about how my body feels, and it feels good to do these things, rather than a chore.
This is a long-term change that can only benefit me as I continue to lose weight and work toward the eventual likelihood of knee replacement surgery; the stronger my legs are, the easier my recovery will be. And afterward? I just might work up to walking a lot farther than I ever have.
I tried incorporating walking into my schedule last year, and it just didn’t click for me; now it has, and I’m very glad.
So, if you don’t mind, it’s time I got off here and got some steps in.
