Last week, I wrote (what I believed to be) this very inspiration tale of my one hundred and one pound weight loss journey over the past six years. Yes, 101 pounds. I never set out to lose that much weight - just like I never thought I would gain that much, either. It's crazy to think that I once carried all that on my 5'6" frame. In the last few days before Scotty arrived, I could barely walk 50 yards without my back going on. This past Saturday, I crested through an 18-mile run at a 8:38 pace. My uplifting little tome created for the blog was chock full of all kinds of helpful, educative advice such as "take it slow!" and "make it a lifestyle!" and "find a tribe!" It was lovely, really.
But then I got on the scale this morning and saw a number that I haven't seen for awhile. My 101 pound-loss suddenly became 96. What the hell? I ran 18 - no, actually 19, if you count the striders - miles this weekend. I barely ate anything. Yes, I had a few cocktails on Saturday night but that was about it. I had green beans for dinner on Saturday night, for heaven's sake! GREEN BEANS. To add insult to injury, my impromptu weigh-in came right after running 5 miles AND a 60-minute boot camp class, so there the number was artificially lower due to water lost through sweating. 96 suddenly became more like 94. I'm the only person I know who actually gains weight on a marathon training program.
I deleted my original post. What do I know about anything?
And it's then I realized - this is all a journey. There is no destination. We are never "there." Yes, I'm annoyed about my alleged 7-8 weight gain, and perhaps you are thinking, "I have 10-20-50-100 pounds to lose!" Dude, I get it. It can feel overwhelming, especially if you aren't seeing quick results. There is nothing more maddening than putting in so much effort and seeing the opposite happen. The thing is, there is no magic pill or bullet. I always tell myself, if Oprah hasn't figured out a way to buy it yet, well, there's not much hope for the rest of us.
While sucking down yet another vegan protein smoothie while icing a hurt foot, I realized - it's just consistency, consistency, consistency. And patience. A lot of patience. Good food in, move your body, and keep on keepin' on. There will be good days and not so good days. It's been a long six years of tiny victories. And I've managed to keep it off for this long because I did take it slowly. It was a lifestyle change AND I found a tribe of amazingly supportive people. I am doing many things well, but there are still a few changes I can still improve upon. So instead of pouting, it's time to suck it up, Buttercup. Up, down, all around - as long as I'm still moving forward, that's what matters.
And if you are on a similar journey, stay strong. Don't let the scale affect you too much. Today, I'm going to acknowledge my successes over the last few years with an understanding that there's still more work to do. My decisions today are next month's results.
We've got this. :-)
**Just to clarify: my weight goal is more about performance than appearance (though there's nothing wrong with that, either). With St. George just over seven weeks away, there's a specific weight I'd like to be at when I run to help with speed. If this is still unclear to you, strap on two 5-pound weights on each ankle and go for a 10 mile run. Yes, that's kind of how I feel right now. Ow.
But then I got on the scale this morning and saw a number that I haven't seen for awhile. My 101 pound-loss suddenly became 96. What the hell? I ran 18 - no, actually 19, if you count the striders - miles this weekend. I barely ate anything. Yes, I had a few cocktails on Saturday night but that was about it. I had green beans for dinner on Saturday night, for heaven's sake! GREEN BEANS. To add insult to injury, my impromptu weigh-in came right after running 5 miles AND a 60-minute boot camp class, so there the number was artificially lower due to water lost through sweating. 96 suddenly became more like 94. I'm the only person I know who actually gains weight on a marathon training program.
I deleted my original post. What do I know about anything?
And it's then I realized - this is all a journey. There is no destination. We are never "there." Yes, I'm annoyed about my alleged 7-8 weight gain, and perhaps you are thinking, "I have 10-20-50-100 pounds to lose!" Dude, I get it. It can feel overwhelming, especially if you aren't seeing quick results. There is nothing more maddening than putting in so much effort and seeing the opposite happen. The thing is, there is no magic pill or bullet. I always tell myself, if Oprah hasn't figured out a way to buy it yet, well, there's not much hope for the rest of us.
While sucking down yet another vegan protein smoothie while icing a hurt foot, I realized - it's just consistency, consistency, consistency. And patience. A lot of patience. Good food in, move your body, and keep on keepin' on. There will be good days and not so good days. It's been a long six years of tiny victories. And I've managed to keep it off for this long because I did take it slowly. It was a lifestyle change AND I found a tribe of amazingly supportive people. I am doing many things well, but there are still a few changes I can still improve upon. So instead of pouting, it's time to suck it up, Buttercup. Up, down, all around - as long as I'm still moving forward, that's what matters.
And if you are on a similar journey, stay strong. Don't let the scale affect you too much. Today, I'm going to acknowledge my successes over the last few years with an understanding that there's still more work to do. My decisions today are next month's results.
We've got this. :-)
**Just to clarify: my weight goal is more about performance than appearance (though there's nothing wrong with that, either). With St. George just over seven weeks away, there's a specific weight I'd like to be at when I run to help with speed. If this is still unclear to you, strap on two 5-pound weights on each ankle and go for a 10 mile run. Yes, that's kind of how I feel right now. Ow.
Contrary to popular belief, I did not give birth to a 101-pound baby. Twelve weeks of bedrest and countless trays of brownies can do a number to one's body.
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