After a recurrence of Sunday night where-in I fell asleep at a reasonable hour only to be woken up and unable to fall back asleep I was not feeling very positive about my chances of making it to the gym. But when the alarm went off at 5:15 it was like the Sara of 2006 had taken over my body. I got up, got dressed, and went to the gym. I did 40 minutes of cardio, even though I thought I might keel over the whole time (Helllllo return of the red face, how I've missed you!), my upper body routine, and a nice long stretch out at the end. And it felt (feels!) good. Great even.
While trudging along on the Y's brand spankin new Precor AMT 100i (have you seen these, they are new to me and they. are. awesome.) I got to thinking about how it seems that the general message of weight loss--of a healthy lifestyle---is that it is hard. Commercials for Weight Watchers and Nutrisystem and Jenny all start off saying how hard weight loss is, and how they can help make it easier. I hear people (in general) complain about how hard it is to lose weight, to get healthy. I'm hear to tell you that's a load of crap. Losing weight is not hard. Becoming healthy is not hard. We are surrounded with tools and information and resources to become healthy, to lose weight. It's not a complicated equation, becoming healthy: eat whole, natural foods, move your body, and eat less than you burn. There are supermarkets all over this country with a plethora of produce, whole grains and lean proteins. There is a gym on almost every corner, and when there is not, or they are cost prohibitive, there are parks, living room floors and huge parking lots to park at the back of. There is no shortage of available ways to get healthy.
What is hard is getting into the right mindset. It's sometimes hard to get the motivation. It's hard to overcome the excuses, the shame, the fear, the *change*. Becoming healthy is not just about losing pounds and eating right. For many people it's about learning why they got to where they are at and overcoming the mental challenges that come with an unhealthy lifestyle---and that can be hard. The mental aspect of weight loss is hard. Sometimes it's really hard.
Right now it's the mental part that is really tough for me. Being on maintenance does a number on one's mental state when it comes to food. Suddenly, after months and months of so many things being totally taboo, and not even worth thinking about, it becomes perfectly acceptable to splurge once in awhile. In fact, I personally struggled with getting enough to eat, and almost *had* to splurge. But splurging is a slippery slope. And now that I am not eating as well I have, but am not totally off the rails, Im finding it hard to find a balance. I don't want to give up whole grain bread, nuts, or real cheese. I know how to lose weight. I know the rules and I know how not to go near pizza or Mexican entirely food in order to drop pounds, but I don't know how to make boundaries that allow me to enjoy these foods in moderation and not GAIN... or at least become unhealthy. There is no magic plan for maintenance. Everyone is different, and maintaining depends a lot on the amount of activity, muscle mass, age, and metabolism of an individual---which is also true for losing, I suppose, something we figure out as we go along... I was making strides to learn how to handle maintenance, but got side tracked with surgery, then laziness, and am now in this weird purgatory. I don't know how to proceed, because I don't need to get back to 140. If I don't lose a pound I would be happy, so long as I am Fierce. I know I need to get to the gym, move my ass. I have that part clear in my head, but not the food part. I need clear boundaries, I need to track food, and I need to be accountable, but I need a base line. A place where I know that going out for dinner is not a good idea, or that I need to be good about my choices. A limit. I don't know how to figure it, and it is driving me crazy.
(this entry was supposed to post on the 14th, but apparently, emailing blog entries no longer works, hrrumph.)
It is time I put my lab coat on and wrote myself a prescription, as over the last several weeks I have learned (re-learned?) a very important lesson. That lesson?
My complete physical AND mental well-being hinges on one very key activity:
Getting my ass to the gym on a regular basis.
It has been well documented here that I have been struggling since my foot surgery this fall. I have been largely absent of late because I didn't feel it was appropriate for me to come here with only the woe is me tales. Talking about my struggles, promising to do better, all of that, none of it seemed to do much good.
I've talked about a "happy weight" How despite the fact that I have not been good about what goes into my mouth, or made the effort to get to the gym or move my behind on a regular basis, that I am still sitting at about the same weight--and about how I don't want to be too worried with the number on the scale, and just be comfortable in my own skin. And I still feel that way, It's just that I am past the point of being comfortable in my own skin. I feel itchy. Itchy is the feeling of expanding girth---of muscle giving up it's fight and letting the fat make itself right at home. It's a shamefully, terrible feeling, and part of a vicious cycle.
Too much sugar lead to the dreaded afternoon migraines. Migraines made me irritable and tired and achy---not in the mood to make a decent dinner, much less do anything else. So off to Mexican, or a stop on the way home for something "easy". Which made me feel better in the short term, but really hurt the next morning when it was time to get up and workout---so I slept in and grabbed Starbucks on the way to work. Not having any leftovers from dinner the night before led to buying something bad for me for lunch, which then led to an afternoon migraines....and so on and so for the last month. I would have periods of trying to get my act together, but haven't gotten there completely. But I am trying.
Yesterday I went to the gym and was reminded anew of how wonderful it makes me feel. I spent 50 minutes on various and sundry cardio machines and had a lot of time just to think. It was lovely. I decided that part of my problem was "starting slow". By setting a goal of getting to the gym 3 times a week I made it too easy not to go the first part of the week, which set up the "meh, the week is almost over, Ill just make it next week." For weeks on end. So I decided that I would make it a goal to get to the gym 5 times this week. I used to go 6 and a half times a week AND do yoga or pilates 3 or 4 times a week, so this is still not totally going balls out, but it forces me to get up in the morning during the week and not be able to say, "Eh, I can go tomorrow and be fine".
Except for this morning, of course.
I really did have the best intentions. I was in bed reading at 9. I feel asleep by 10:30. Perfect for the coming 5:15 alarm. Except. Except I fell asleep with the "big" overhead bedroom light on, and Husband didn't come to bed and turn it off before it woke me back up at 20 to 12. Getting up to turn it off meant one last trip to the bathroom. Which meant, I was wide awake. I was still determined to get back to sleep as fast as possible, but less than 5 minutes later, in walked husband, who turned on the TV... So I ended up watching what he was for the next hour even though I tried to shut my eyes and concentrate on sleeping. When I finally did drift off, I slept poorly. When the alarm went of at 5:15 I was pinned between a warm, snuggly cat and a warm, snuggly husband. I managed to get up, but after my morning bathroom stop I knew I was too tired and climbed back into bed. I should have just gone. I felt guilty as soon as I got back in bed. But I just couldn't make myself do it. Tomorrow is a new day---but only if I can get my ass in gear and get there tomorrow. If that doesn't happen, Im stuck in the land of Tomorrow never comes.
I've tried making deals with myself, that if I could make one week of workouts I would buy myself some new workout clothes, but at this point I think I need to buy the new stuff in order to motivate me to go in the first place. I have my eye on a new sigg bottle. And I have a feeling a new top and a couple new songs on my MP3 player will help some too. I know that if I can get my groove back it won't be hard very long, but right now it feels almost impossible, esp at 5:15 when it;s cold outside and there are warm cats and warm husbands that like to snuggle.
It has been over a month since I weighed myself. A month of of the charts eating and no where near the charts activity. in fact, I believe slovenly would be a good word to describe my day to day life over the last several weeks. So it was with much trepidation that I stepped on the scale this morning, telling myself that until I knew just where I was at that I wouldn't be able to really get back on track. I braced myself for an ugly, terrible number. I told myself that anything under 160 would be good news. Imagine my surprise when the scale read 151. I believe my exact words were "no way."
It seems that 150ish is my body's "happy weight". Over the last several moths as I have tried to get motivation to move, been on and off the food wagon, and have struggled so much internally, my weight, aside from the initial 5 or so pounds I gained when I really couldn't move at all has not jumps nearly as much as I would have expected. The chart on the right doesn't show it well, but I have been right around 150 for a long time... with little effort at staying there. In fact the few times I was working out and tracking calories, it didn't seem to want to move down much, either. I hit 140 almost a year ago, and almost instantly started going back up. There were other factors of course (see: my foot, and all the drama it's caused.), but I wonder how easily I could have kept the weight off if I wouldn't have had the neuroma.
My husband was surprised that I was at 151 this morning---he doesn't have any conception of women and weight, and assumed that I was still around 140 (When I was 220, he assumed I was about 160--see what I mean?). He asked me, quite innocently enough if I was going to try to get back to 140...not because he judges me on my weight---he was just as happy with me at my heaviest, so it's not that he wants me to be a certain number... and I told him quite honestly that I didn't know if I wanted to.
See, I don't know if it's worth the amount of effort it would take to maintain 140 pounds. If I can get back down to 140 and stay there without killing myself, then fine... but right now, I would be happy at 150 pounds and toned and fierce like I was 6 months ago. I plan on eating healthy, whole foods and working out like I did in the past, and not focusing too much on the number. I will still weigh myself---maybe not every day---but I want more to feel comfortable in my own skin again. I want to fit into a certain pair of jeans. I want to feel strong and fierce. Not weak and mushy.
After another morning of not being able to make myself get out of bed and workout in the morning, I decided that maybe what I needed was a total change of scenery. I packed a bag and hit the Y after work. It was crowded, over-run with kids and there were WAY too many meat heads in the weight room. But as I walked back to the lockers I could already feel myself walking taller... and that's the feeling I want to keep... no matter what the scale says.
Inertia, or pushing a huge boulder up a steep hill
I really don't know what to do with myself here. I can't keep posting doom
and gloom whining about how I need to get back on the wagon but can't*, and
posting positive, up beat posts about how I'm getting better, working on it
and WILL stay strong are turning out to be noting more than wishful
thinking.
It occurs to me that Motivation is just another form of inertia. A body in
motion tends to stay in motion... and a body at rest wants nothing more than
to eat cookies and sit on the couch and take a nap... then maybe go to bed
at 9ish. It's a lot easier to get a boulder down a hill than up it... and
right now my ass is that boulder, at the bottom of a 40% incline yall.
Frustration and Struggle are the 2 words that best describe my metal state
right now. Throw in "Overwhelmed", "Blue", and "Pathetic" and you have a
pretty well rounded look at my over-all life. It's so not good times.
I know that it is not as hard, as laborious, or as restricting as I am
making it seem to be in my head. I know it will only take a couple weeks of
solid work to get back into "go mode", and I know that physically my body
hates all the crap I continue to put in it, and all the ass sitting I
continue to accomplish. I just can't seem to get my mind over my matter to
start pushing that boulder up the hill. It's not a very tall hill, I know,
and the steepest part is the beginning... but it's so hard for me to start,
even knowing that every day the rock gets a little bit heavier, and the hill
gets a little bit steeper.
I was going to work out this morning. I was going to get up, put my tennis
shoes on, and go. But before I even got out of bed I talked myself out of
it. It was too cold, too dark, too warm in the bed, too nice to be able to
sleep in until 7 since H had an early morning meeting. So back to bed I
went. Vowing again that tomorrow is another day.
Tomorrow is another day of course. but dammit, tomorrow never comes! Add on
top of that the excuses... H's birthday month is Novemeber--we already have
3 weekend's worth of activities planed for him.... then his mom and step
mom's birthday's, Thanksgiving, H's surgery, My parents visiting, SIL
(Pregnant---so jealous) in town for a month, Holiday parties, Christmas and
New years, and there just isn't a clear road of even level ground, much less
a downward slope in sight. I know there never will be... but with all the
things to do, money to spend, and food to eat in the next 2 months, I know I
need to get on the ball and stay there now, or give up hope (and more than
likely a couple of pants sizes) until 2008. And that's just not something I
want to do.... but how HOW HOW do I give myself that push to start the
boulder rolling?
I am doing OK (and just OK) with the food during the week. The weekends kill
me every damn time though (hello, Pizza Hut). I did manage to keep my act
together enough not to heat up another 2 cookies last night (lets not talk
about my success rate on Friday or Saturday though, mmmkay?), but it seems
like at this point I am just eating to eat. I can't tell if I am even really
hungry a lot of the time anymore, and I seem to be falling into my old
lover's arms (sugar, that is) again. I am not working out, even though my
foot feels good...I'm pretty much just doing a whole lot of feeling sorry
for myself and my destined-to-be-vacant-for-the-foreseeable-future womb
(yes, I just made another baby reference, I really should just write a post
about it and have out with the while thing, but none of that is really WL
related, and I don't know if anyone gives a rat.). Really, I need to just
get over THAT issue and live in the now. But saying that really isn't doing
anything to change the sad sadness that I feel either. One more thing to
work on I guess.
Anyway, that got off track a little now didn't it? ;) Bottom line, advice
would be great, and support would be wonderful. Thanks :)
I/ve become very good at convincing myself that tomorrow is a new day, and
that if I screw up today, I might as well go for broke and eat as much as I
can because I am starting over tomorrow.
Where the hell did that come from? When did I decide that it was OK to slack
off at all, much less, for meals, days, or weeks at a time? Who the hell am
I?
Im sick or starting over. Im sick of restarting. Im sick of being ashamed
because I'm not the person I was a year ago.
Yesterday, after posting I went back and tracked my food for the last 2
days. I wasn't exact, but close, and the point was that I was owning up to
my decisions and was on track to being on track.
Then went for a Mexican dinner.
I have several weaknesses when it comes to food, but the salty, over cheesed
goodness of Mexican food is probably my biggest problem. Back in the day, I
would be able to mostly skip the chips, and go for a meal that didn't
include many carbs. I could get the black beans instead of the refried. I
could not eat the rice. I could not finish the plate no matter how much it
hurt.
Not last night though. Last night it was a chip and salsa, burrito with
extra guacamole, refried bean and rice fest. At least we could steer clear
of the oreo fried ice cream. And I did only eat about half of it.
But I brought the other half to work with me. I just cannot seem to say no
to that guacamole. I am powerless in it's presence. Powerless.
I also did not workout this morning. I was still sore and didn't want to
over exert myself. I also had physical therapy, and now that I'm "over the
hump" I actually have to do stuff. Like squats, and lunges. And this weird
jumping thing. I mean, I actually sweated. And I was told that the 15 minute
foot massages were over as of today as long as my foot held up. Would it be
wrong of me to feign pain to continue getting the massage? And also,
shouldn't the PT count for something as far as exercise go? I mean, I sweat!
Obviously, it wasn't a full on hard core workout, but I think I'm going to
record it as something towards my weekly calorie-burn goal. Is that
cheating?
I am going to go back and track my dinner last night and upcoming lunch
today. I am going to pull up my big girl panties and take it like a woman.
Own up to my choices and move on. I am also going to get together a more
definite plan to keep on the wagon. Right now things are pretty undefined,
and while I hate thinking about giving up some of the things that I enjoy
now, part of me thinks going back to Core is the best thing for me right now
if for no other reason that it worked before, and that it would be easier to
keep myself accountable. But somehow, it seems so restrictive now...
Last week I slacked. Badly. I have found it so hard to get back on track and
stay there. Most of this problem was frustration because my foot hurt, and
my leg hurt because I was walking funny on it, as to ease the pain in the
location of my surgery. I had absolutely no motivation to work out. Sure, I
could use the recumbent bike, but I have made my feelings about those clear.
My beloved arc trainer hurt so bad--not during the act, but for days and
days afterwards. Last week I didn't do a damn thing. I didn't eat well. I
didn't track. I didn't work out. I did spend a lot of time feeling sorry for
myself.
Then on Saturday something amazing happened. My foot felt better. Not
perfect, mind you, but better. I can walk normally, pushing off from my
toes. It is still pretty tingly, but that doesn't bug me unless I am putting
on or taking off socks, and the arch of my foot sometimes aches due to the
fact that I am still curling my toes (still working on that), but it doesn't
hurt. It doesn't hurt. It doesn't hurt. It doesn't hurt.
Hallelujah it doesn't hurt!
Yesterday morning I went to the gym and walked straight past those recumbent
bikes and climbed aboard my trusty Arc Trainer. Boy am I our of shape. Red
Face was back after a long absence, but I made it for 10 minutes and then
another 20 minutes after weights. I am sore today, My arms are T'd that I
actually made them work, and my calf's don't know what hit them---but it is
not the same mind numbing pain that I experienced the last time--just that
oh yeah, we used to do this 6 times a week ache that feels so good. And my
food still does not hurt. It is a little tight today, like the rest of my
muscles but does not hurt. It does not hurt.
While for the last several weeks I have been promising myself to get back on
the wagon, I am still trying to climb back on. The food is still not
perfect---although its much better than it was. I am not tracking. I am not
sure how to go about getting back and staying back.... but I am working on
it. There have been other issues; my current and all-consuming baby fever
for one, and the news that Chad is probably going to have to have knee
surgery, teamed with work strife on his part have weighed heavily on both of
us the last few weeks. I am feeling a bit out of control, and I hate that
feeling... I am hoping that taking control of what I can---what goes into my
body, and what I do to improve it, will help get some of these other issues
into perspective.
A quick note: For some reason, comments are taking a long time (several
days) to show up... so Im sorry for not responding to them until now. I will
check back here rather than wait for EP to notify me of comments from now
on!
2 months ago this minute I was sleeping off the 1-2 punch of anesthesia and
percoset. Yum.
To look at me you would think everything is fine just fine. I am wearing
real shoes (no more velcro, hurray!), My walk appears to be normal, I don't
grimace in pain.
But all is not back to good. I am not allowed to wear heals (although I have
been cleared to wear on pair of boots because I have a hella arch and the
shoes have a large tow box),or anything with a tight (or approaching tight)
toe box, I cannot run---and my beloved arc trainer does things to my calf I
wouldn't wish I my worst enemy, and most of the time it feels like I am
walking with a pebble in my shoe.
I have been going to physical therapy twice a week but it's a long process.
While I was off crutches after less than two weeks, and into a full set of
real shoes in 3, it's not all back. I can't do a lot of the things I want
to. I can't do child's pose comfortably even! Wah! I am assured that this is
par for the course, and I am trying to take it slow. But I am not and never
have been the take it slow type.
I have been stuck on the recumbant Bike. I cannot tell you how much I
dislike the recumbent bike. I feel so lame sitting in the gym on that thing
while people all around me run on their treadmills, or take MY arc trainer.
On Saturday I had had enough and got on the AT... my dear old friend. I did
20 minutes. I took it easy. The pain on Saturday morning was not nearly as
bad as the last time I tried it, but it was still there, reminding me that I
am not ready for the AT. reminding me how lame I really am.
And strangely this morning my foot hurt. You see the problem hasn't really
been with my foot (although it is uncomfortable to walk on, it doesn't
really hurt), but with my lower leg because of the change in my gait since
the surgery, and because of my stupid weak hips (who knew?). So no workout
this morning. Hopefully tomorrow the pain will be gone and I can get back on
the (stupid)(lame) recumbent bike. I'm working on strengthening my lower
body. Working on getting back there... maybe even to run, but it's going so
slow. so. slow.
I have been doing really well on the food front, and even did meet my
exercise goal last week. The scale is going down, Im doing well... except
that I'm stuck here on this recumbent bike while everyone around me works up
a nice sweat on the treadmills and on MY AT.
My pants are tight. I haven't been to the Y in a month... I haven't
consistently tracked my eating in longer.
My eyebrows are extra bushy, I have zits all over my face, and my toes have
not had any (desperately needed!) attention since I stripped them of polish
the night before my surgery.
My house is a wreck; the ring in the toilet is disgusting me even miles
away. I don't want to talk about what was found in our kitchen this morning.
My bank account needs attention desperately. Our recent spending has been
unheard of for months... if not years.
My car---ugh. I really don't want to talk about my car. It needs a scrubbing
and some maintenance of it's own.
I feel as though I have been stuck in some sort of daze for the last---I
don't know how long. It fees strikingly similar to the feeling I had in
December of 2005, and the countless months before that. As if everything was
out of control... and well beyond getting any control of.
At some point the switch tripped back.
Dammit.
We used to have a joke at work whenever someone would screw up... the
offending worker would just proclaim "Excuse!" Because in the end, it really
didn't matter what the excuse was... in the end they are all just that;
excuses. I could sit here and make excuses all day and night about how I've
been dealing with several different issues including my foot/surgery,
financial issues /future goals, family matters, on and on forever, amen. But
trying to explain away why I went off track is pointless, I know why I am
here at this point. At the end of the day it's because I chose to. I wasn't
working out as well as I could before my surgery, and I haven't gone back to
it. I have chosen to eat poorly, something I could occasionally get away
with when I was working out, and when I had a stack of muscles to burn burn
burn those extra calories, but when faced with my renewed sedentary self,
just settled on my gut and thighs. I have let my emotions dictate my eating
(2 cupcakes during a particularly bad day on Friday, why not?). I have
decided that my surroundings and I are not worth the effort.
I need to be worth the effort.
I have started to come around. I vacuumed. Changed the Cat box, spent Sunday
morning helping the H with heavy yard work. Made big plans to get to the gym
this morning---only to be derailed by a "kitchen emergancy" which found me
scrubbing the counters and floors at 6 in the morning. I still could have
done something. I could have done more. I could have done some pilates,
tried some yoga, something other than desperately trying to finish The Stand
before leaving for work. There was a time that a morning workout was more
important than any book. That if something came up to change my workout
plans I would have found a way to fit something in. There was a time when I
worked out twice a day. TWICE. There was a time when I wanted to workout....
and at times I still want to, I just don't. And that needs to change.
Because if anyone knows that half the workout battle is getting to the gym
that first week, it's me.
So tonight I am going to go home and clean my bathroom. I cam going to cook
a healthy dinner, and then, after I have time to digest a bit, I am going to
attempt some yoga. Nothing strenuous, nothing earth changing. Just me, my
mat and 22 minuted of Namaste. After that, I will tackle the bank account.
Tomorrow I will go to the gym before work. I will not push myself too hard,
but I will do something. I will pack a big salad and healthy lunch and
snacks. I will clean out my car after work and I will cook a healthy dinner
once again. On Wednesday I will do it all again, and make whatever other
steps I need to make to get myself back into the good place, rather than
that ultra crappy place I have been in for the last couple of weeks.
It was in the back of the closet collecting dust, but I think I found my motivation
I climbed on the scale yesterday morning and saw a number I don't like. 153.
That is 3 pounds over my original goal weight of 150. A weight I have
managed to stay below for almost a full year. My chart is above that awful
red goal line. It feels terrible.
According to my last weigh in, I have gained 6 pounds in the last month.
Yikes. The only solace I take is that while I can pack on the pounds with a
quickness, I have always been able to take them off fairly easily as well.
Here's hoping, right?
This morning the scale told me 151.8. Makes me feel somewhat better. I am
planning on being below that red line before my surgery and staying there
throughout my recovery. I *think* that I will be able to do some pilates
while I am off my foot. I need to talk to the doctor about it more, but
right now, that and some weight lifting is all that I think I will be able
to do... and I will be doing it. If it's one thing I've learned over all of
this crap, it's that maintaining a workout schedule, no matter how low
impact or intensity it may be, is key to staying on track.
I got to the gym yesterday morning. Managed 25 minutes on the arc trainer
before my foot revolted, and got my usual weight routine in. It felt
great... why can I never remember that when I'm laying in bed in the morning
wanting to puss out? This morning was rough, but I challenged myself to just
get up and do it anyway---so I got in about 40 minutes of yoga and
pilates... nothing earth shattering, but something... and I'm glad I did it.
