Monday (or, here's what's weighing on me)

So Saturday is the official weigh-in day. I am working hard at this. I want to lose the last 20 (or 40, or 50) pounds and just see what that's like. I am committed.

I worked hard last week. Monday was a rest day (not because it was scheduled, but because I left my sports bra at home.) Tuesday I did cardio dance (awesome!) Wednesday, I ran and took barbell class. Thursday, spin. Friday, swim and hot yoga. Saturday morning, I weighed 213.4 - only 1.2 down from the previous week.

I was so disappointed, because the night before when I weighed (which I shouldn't have but whatever) I was 210.6. That would've represented a four pound loss. Instead, I have to be content with 1.2.

And I am oka with it, honestly. A pound a week, over time, adds up. But I want that week that's a huge success. I want that four-pound loss. But is that sustainable? No. Not sensible either, and certainly not what I should expect. But man, for that one moment when that's what the scale said, I was so happy.

Soon, however, I will once again weigh what my drivers license says I weigh. And shortly after that, I'll stop obsessing.

Open to change

So the nutrition plan started last week. Weigh-in happened on Saturday morning.

214.6.

This is not a proud number. It is hard to own it, but it's not like I can hide it, so there you are. The good news is, this number represents a two-pound loss from the previous week. Two pounds is pretty significant, if you ask me!

So even though we're already mid-week, let's take a look at how last week went.

Nutritionally, I stuck to the plan. There were a few meals that I actually missed because I haven't been feeling well. Having no appetite meant I just napped through meals. This is not a lifestyle choice. I think it's important to say that missing meals is not a sign of disordered eating. I just really wasn't hungry, because I was (and I think I still am) fighting something. So Sunday through Friday, I eat six small meals a day, each three hours apart. Each must consist of a serving of protein and a serving of complex carbs. Sugar is cut considerably (trying for no food with more than two grams of sugar) and good fat (olive oil, nuts, avocado) are consumed in moderation.

I am not hungry following this plan, but I will admit that sometimes it's hard to get the food in every three hours. Right now, for example, I realized I'm 30 minutes late for second breakfast. But changing the way you eat, just like anything new, takes practice. I'll get there.

Workouts last week were outstanding. Here's how everything came together:

• Monday: Two-mile run and barbell class. (This class kicks my ass.)
• Tuesday: Rock the Funk class, an absolutely awesome high intensity cardio dance class. In 45 minutes, I burned 567 calories.
• Wednesday: Three-mile run and barbell class. Between these two activities, I burned over 1,000 calories.
• Thursday: I can't remember, so I must have taken a rest day. (Seriously, who forgets one week to the next?)
• Friday: Easy swim, followed by a yoga clinic.
• Saturday: One hour spin class, followed by weight training class (free weights this time).
• Sunday: Rest day

Very pleased that I've added more strength training to the regimen. It is HARD. My barbell instructor is tough; she requires 15 pushups from each student before class begins. She suggests you lift as much as you can with good form. She is relentless, and this is exactly what I need. It's what I've gotten from Pam in Schaumburg over the years, and having that same attitude at the location closer to home means I get to give my body what it really needs.

I can feel myself getting stronger, and I am seeing changes in my face already. I'm much prettier when I get under 210; I might be close to that this week.

And that's where we stand. Saturday is weigh-in day once again. Fingers crossed; I believe I'm at the turning point. Swimsuit season is going to be awesome this year.

Turning the page

To say that my last post resonated with a lot of people is an understatement. Your messages and support have meant a helluva lot to me, and I can honestly tell you it makes me feel more capable to know you think I am. That's awesome. That's what friends do for me, and it matters.

Since that post, I've taken some important steps, and you'll begin to see the results right here. First, a friend of mine kindly offered to help me get my nutrition in line. Because I am not stupid, and because this person is a medical expert and (in my opinion, anyway) an elite athlete, I took her up on the offer. The way I eat is changing drastically.

The short of it is, I'm eating six small meals every day, with protein and complex carbs at every meal and veggies at at least two of 'em. Every three hours, food goes in my mouth hole. One day a week, I get to cheat. I feel consistently satisfied (but I'm not gonna lie; I am really looking forward to my cheat day!)

But here's the thing: the whole point is to fuel the inner athlete. When I began to consider this concept, everything changed.

I know that sounds crazy. The conversation happened on Saturday, and since then everything changed? Well, yeah. Because the way I think changed, everything changed. It's possible, friends.

When I started looking at food as fuel, I started thinking of myself as a being to be fueled. And I started working harder. Pushing my run pace from slow to less slow. Venturing into higher cardio zones. Lifting heavier weight (while keeping perfect form, natch). Finding the edges. Not taking no for an answer. Trying harder. Taking a ridiculously fun, awesome, exhausting and fabulous class (thanks, DT!)

In short, I've turned a page. I've always been relentless. Now, I'm sorta ... relentlesser. I gave up excuses for Lent, and now there's no turning back.

The whole point

So my last post seems to have resonated with more emotion and with more people than anything I've shared publicly before. I've spent a week trying to figure out why, and I'm finally content to just acknowledge that I touched a nerve with a lot of people. Because in some way, we're all on a quest to be a better version of ourselves.

And we all struggle, at some point along the way.

I think it's important to note that my post, in all its honesty, was not me being in a dark place, or feeling low at all. It was simply me, owning my baggage, letting it be real, and tearing it away to move on to what's next.

There is always something next.

Next, for me, is a process I'm figuring out. Two weeks ago, I was sound asleep, awaiting my fifth half marathon in a year's time. Now, I don't have a race of that distance coming up until October at the earliest. From here, anything is possible, and everything is a little daunting. For three years, I have had a Big Race to prep for. Now, it's just life. How does one go about prepping for just plain life after that?

I've determined one does that by first acknowledging that life is never "just plain." And second, by kicking ass.

I'll be kicking ass by adding more weight training, cycling and swimming to the regimen. I'll be spending the summer focusing on tri training, because the built-in cross-training is awesome. And finally, with the help of an amazing friend, I'm getting my nutrition in check. Her advice, in a nutshell, is to fuel the athlete that I am.

Instinctively, I wanted to laugh. And then I realized ... she's right. I am. I'm an athlete with big goals.  A bucket list I really can't afford but intend to complete anyway. And a deep desire to be that version of me I see beneath all the bullshit.

There is prevailing wisdom and some proof that when I get close to something I really want, I sabotage myself. I do it with weightloss, I've done it in my career, and some might say I did it in my marriage, too. But the truth is, that's not me. I've come too far, accomplished too much, to let myself down.

You're invited, as always, to come along for the ride as I figure all this out. But what I believe more strongly than anything else is this: the whole point is to be challenged by yourself. To face challenges head on. To wonder if its possible and then prove that it is. To acknowledge your age, your skill level (or lack thereof), your particular obstacles ... and then just crush 'em. To let nothing stand in your way.

Obstacles are there to be surpassed or destroyed. My inner saboteur is goin' down.

My own worst enemy

I think I should say at the very beginning, if you're not up for some brutal honesty, this is not the post for you. Shit's about to get real up in here, and mama's gonna bare her soul. If you can't handle the truth (with apologies to Jack), please click back. I won't be offended.

Okay, so everyone left reading (all two of you) is okay with harsh reality? Good. Here goes.

Since the holiday season, I have been at war with myself. Hating my body. Hating it. Upset that I let go of my fitness goals and, instead, ate Christmas. All of Christmas. Carrying 10 or so extra pounds that I can see in my face, my muffin top (which is more like a coffee cake these days), my chins, my hips, my feet. Oh, how I wish I were kidding.

Hate is a powerful thing. A destructive thing. So the more I have railed against myself, the worse I have felt. This, it seems, is a struggle I am not going to win this way. I have got to knock it off.

By way of illustration, here's a bit of what I mean. The girl is the same; hell, the outfit is virtually the same. I see huge differences, though.

Di, me, Linda and Shelly last November at the Wine & Dine Half 

At the Wine & Dine, I was at my pre-holiday weight. I felt capable, strong and (GASP!) pretty. It shows, in every possible way.

Me, after I finished the Wine & Dine

My finisher photo shows Proud Maggie! My smile is genuine. My chin is singular. I look happy. I had also run well, for a pokey gal like me. All in all, this was a great night and a great race.

Contrast that with Princess Half Marathon Weekend. I'm heavy. I'm unhappy with myself. And it shows. Well, maybe not in the first pic.

Kath, Carrie, Linda, the Mad Hatter, Raquel, me, Jenn and the Queen of Hearts at the Enchanted 10K

I actually like the above photo. I think it's funny that I look like I have only one leg, and I like the way I am wearing a fitted tank and a tutu, in bright colors, and yet I look better than I did the following day, while wearing black in a style that didn't fit quite so closely ... as evidenced below. Anyway, the one leg that shows looks strong!

Me, after I finished the Glass Slipper Challenge

Again, the girl is the same. Everything but the skirt is identical to what I wore in the Wine & Dine ... but those 10 (or is it 15?) pounds really show. To me, anyway. In the cheekbones, and the hips. 

Other than the photo with the Queen, above, I hate hate hate every photo from last weekend. Every. Single. One. The monologue in my head has gone something like this:

"Cow. Fat. Ugly. SHIT homely. It's a good thing you already have friends, because no one would talk to you if they just met you today. You are gross, unloveable, and really ugly. See? We have proof. Just look at the pictures, ugly girl."

My inner voices are cruel. 

Sometimes they are echoes of things that have been said to me in the past. The old saying about sticks and stones? Yeah, that's bullshit. Names hurt longer, folks, and they leave scars that no one sees.

But back to me in the here and now: this is not a war. You cannot win if you war against your body. And the thing is, so much of photographs is angles, lighting and under-eye concealer. It really isn't reality. It's just a moment in time, captured in a still image.

So do I have some work to do? Yeah. I have 10 pounds of holiday weight to relinquish, plus 20 or 30 more, before I can say that I've reached my goal. Progress is slow. It's hard. But if it were easy, everyone would be fit.

The thing is, I have to work on how I feel about myself in concert with the physical changes I need to make. I would NEVER talk to a friend the way I allow myself to talk to me! What's that about, anyway? It's time to let it go. It's time to stop being my own worst enemy and learn to be good to myself. 

I believe we are all beautiful, but it's easier to see in others. I think we should all try to see in ourselves what the people who love us see. It's worth a shot, don't you think?

Veggies

Just a quick check-in to report my progress on adding more vegetables to the daily food.

For me, "veggies" mostly means "eat a salad." A big salad. So it's no surprise that I got most of my additional servings of vegetables that way. And no ... I don't hit it perfectly every time.

1/8: Had a large salad at the gym. I consider that thing three servings of vegetables; rough estimate, it's at least three cups of greens.

1/9: Had a big bowl of arugula with goat cheese with lunch. And that was it for the day, veg-wise. #fail

1/10: Had a MASSIVE salad, mostly vegetables, at our school salad bar.

1/11: Lunch with a friend was pizza ... topped with a mountain of mesclun. Honestly, it was really good.

1/12: Lots of carrots and onions with dinner, but not enough. #fail

1/13: So far today, I have had arugula with lunch, plus onion and artichoke hearts and beans - do beans count? Hell. I guess I don't even know how I'm doing today!

1/14: Not the best effort, but I did have a big helping of arugula with my lunch.

1/15: A true success! Had my greens at lunch, and then a big helping of broccoli with dinner. Each was about 1.5 servings, so I did it!

Ever forward. I will update this post as time goes on.

The Wagon

This. But not.

It's a new year, and I have an old problem. It's a problem that's looks like my ass, sounds like heavy breathing, and smells like bacon. Yep - another January and I'm still carrying excess baggage.

I'm not going to make a resolution or an excuse. I'm just going to acknowledge it, and move on. Because only by moving on can I even begin to move beyond, and beyond is where I'm headed, my friend.

The road to health is not a simple, straight line. In fact, there is nothing simple about it at all. It's all peaks and valleys and fried dough, and I'm in it for the long haul. I'm here to remember where I came from, and to forge ahead with wild abandon. This year, like every year past, is mine.

Over the last week or so, a few friends have reached out to ask for my support. Can it be that my progress looks like success to others? Can it be that my progress actually is success? It's strange to think of myself in that way - successful. And I think it actually freaks me out. That's why, every time I get close to my goal, I cheeseburger myself right back into my fat genes.

Not this year. Not this ass. Not in 2014. Thank you, but no. This year, I'm going to give myself a new challenge each month, and I'm going to do my damnedest to reach every one of them. My plan is to follow Cooking Light magazines 12 Healthy Habits program. Hopefully, by the time I turn the calendar to 2015, I will have kicked my fear in the teeth and reached at least an intermittent weight loss goal.

So, for the remainder of January, I'm going to focus on vegetables; specifically, getting three servings a day. Fruit is easy, but veggies? That's a challenge. So let's see how this goes. (I predict there will be a lot of salad in my January.)

It isn't easy. If it were, everyone would be fit. But the truth is, even after an indulgent December, I haven't fallen so far off the wagon that I've lost the wagon entirely. I can hoist my ample thigh right back up onto that sucker, and ride off into the sunset.

Hopefully, in a smaller size.