Celebrating Progress

I've drafted three posts now and haven't published a single one.  I'm so tired of complaining about my life and my progress.  I'm actually tired of hearing myself complain.  Every time I've tried to justify not writing I read my words and hear a whine in my voice that I don't like.  This is taking too long.  I'm working so hard.  I messed up my diet.  I'm tired.  I'm tired.  I'm tired.

As of this month I've lost 21 pounds.  I've been ruminating over the number for days, actually weeks, now.  I think about it all the time.  At no point since I started this weight loss iteration have I obsessed over a number like I have this one.  I've lost more than this in the past.  Forty pounds lost was the climax of my weight watchers experience.  Twenty of that never came back as anything more than temporary baby weight.

Having reached 21 pounds lost, I'm now at my lowest weight in my adult life, 219.  I don't remember the moment when I crossed into the 220s for the first time, but I know it was before I graduated from undergrad.  Reaching 219 is a huge accomplishment.  One to be celebrated!  Every step forward from here is a step into unknown territory.  I'm no longer reversing the ups and downs of failed diets.  I'm breaking new ground with every forward step.

Thinking back I didn't diet in college.  My weight management plan was to buy another Diet Coke with a side of cigarettes; a substitution habit which began in high school.  Food was impulsive and secondary.  I don't remember thinking more about it than where the free food locations were (Engineering Building Atrium), how much a box of Rice Roni cost (89 cents) or if the 7 Eleven nachos were fresh (No, always No).  Looking back, my many attempts to quit smoking definitely contributed to my weight gain.  I don't remember ever losing weight when I would give into the cravings; smoking would just stop the upward trend.  That habit steadily declined until late 2007 when I decided I wanted kids.  Finally I quit for the last time.

Now I find myself at my lowest weight.  I'm no longer a smoker.  Diet Coke still happens, but on the order of maybe 32 ounces a month (I easily consumed 64 ounces a day).  I've learned buckets about food and portions and exercise and nutrition.  I'm working out harder and longer than ever before.  I can feel myself getting stronger.  And none of the changes I've made to my life are dangerous, unhealthy or unsustainable.

Wow.  I have so much to celebrate.

Why do I hesitate?  Fear that I can't do it without those habits.  Nostalgia for all the plates of nachos consumed without a care.  Doubt that the weight won't come back two fold.  Fatigue from pushing myself to change while maintaining a life I love.  Remorse over not taking care of myself sooner.  Worry that it is too little too late.  How can I celebrate when I still have so far to go?  I'm a fat person celebrating being less fat.  It's obscene.

And I'm being harsh.  I know that.  I recognize it.  I'm not being nice or kind or forgiving towards myself.  That is one of the things my husband called me out on months ago.  This process is all about learning how to take care of me.  What habits will serve me well.  What does my body need to thrive.  How can I feed my soul without food.  As I try, learn and incorporate new things, even discarding previous staples, I'll feel better and the weight will come off.

Celebrating would feel good.  I should try it sometime.

Just Keep Swimming

Yesterday I felt like Dori.  I was all over the place.  No focus on the moment.   And not able to deal in the past or future very well.  Over the last week, I've left my PT clothes sitting on my dresser, my wallet in the girls diaper bag and my keys in the front door.  I'll never claim to be the most put together person, but this is ridiculous.

And I all I could tell myself was to keep on keepin' on.

With each iteration of crazy, I get a good thing out of it.  I become better at detecting, monitoring and redirecting the crazy.  With the lack of focus I was experiencing yesterday afternoon, I took off an hour early from work, went home and sorted the mail.  That's right.  Of all the things I could do with an hour, I chose to sort mail.

I poured a nice cup of ice water.  All my mail just barely fit in the wall basket in my kitchen.  I carried it to the family room and spread all the mail out on my sofa.  I popped Season 6 Smashed from Buffy the Vampire Slayer into the DVD player (my TV obsession of choice).  Pulling the recycle bins and shred bin over ensured that I did not have to get up for any reason.  And for the next 40 minutes I sorted mail in the quiet of my own home.  With no interruptions.

It was awesome.  When the mail was finished I had a few extra minutes on the episode so I sat and massaged my feet with a tennis ball.  Ahhh.  That was even better than getting through the mail!

And I got my zen back.  I'm by no means caught up but for the rest of the evening I wasn't a spaz-cadet.  I took my girls to Chick-fil-A for dinner and let them burn off 45 minutes of energy in the play place.  We did the whole bedtime ritual peacefully.  I got the laundry sorted and a load put in the washer.  I cleaned the mountain of greens our CSA provided this week.  I savored one chocolate chip cookie.  I watched one more episode of Buffy (Season 6 Wreaked) while doing a few PT exercises to warmup.  I stretched out my very sore legs and rolled my IT band.  I went to bed content.

I feel productive again.  Or maybe my limited control over my schedule has been reattained.  Whatever gives me this peaceful productive I-can-do-anything feeling is back.  And it is welcome to stay as long as it likes.

Food Judgement

Last night I sat down with my girls to eat dinner.  They split a can of whole wheat ABC & 123's with Meatballs while I had leftover chicken and mashed potatoes.  There were no vegetables.  Well, unless you count the sauce on the ABC's...  The can says there is a full serving in there somewhere.  That counts, right?

*sigh*

Oh well.  We only eat like that two or three times a month.  If my husband had been coming home for dinner I'd have at least chopped up and sauteed the Swiss Chard in the vegetable draw.  But who was I impressing?  My 3 year old was extra thrilled that I let her pick her dinner from the pantry all by herself.  It was adorable.

But in my nutritional disaster that was dinner I had a triumph.  At the end of dinner, I sat down and recorded my calories totaling everything up for the day.  I was hoping I hadn't exceeded 1500 so that I could pull a chocolate chip cookie or two out of the freezer.  I was at 1581.  And I was full.

So I stopped eating.

I was satisfied.

And no craving came haunting in the night.  No obsessive thoughts about food.  No pepperoni drive-bys.  I was quite simply just done.

And it was a superb feeling.

I have food issues.  Given that I try to focus on the positives of working out and calorie counting, you might have missed the food issues.  But they are here.  They are big.  All too often they dominate my thoughts and I do all these other activities to counter them.  I work hard to find coping mechanisms.  And when I'm not coping?  I create avoidance tactics and diversions.  I tell myself stories about the future and remind myself of why I'm doing all this.  I fold clothes, vacuum or knit.  I brush my teeth.

Last night I didn't need to.  I coped.  I coped without trying.  This has been happening more and more lately.  It is a great feeling.  I am able to control my calories like never before.

Calories aren't loaded with emotion the way food is.  Each calorie is just a unit of energy.  I need a certain number of them and, when I have enough, I can be done.  Points didn't translate that way.  The formula used to determine them passed judgement on food.  It was about more than just input and output.  I didn't deal well with that.  So far I'm counting calories without the negativity or obsession I've experienced in the past.

Someday I hope to move beyond the simple calorie counting further into a wholesome nutrition-filled diet, but for now this is good.  I don't need to rush and I still have lots to learn without muddying the waters.  It feels so good to have something objective to cling to during this process.  Something serving my purposes so well.  I'm kind of embarrassed that I never thought to try it before.  But instead, I'll be thankful.  Thankful for a judgement-free way to deal with one aspect of all this.  Thankful this is working.  Thankful for the time to find it.

Reality Check

Yesterday I had to head home early from work.  My foot hurt enough that all I could think about was getting home and resting it.  So that's what I did.  I also made an appointment to see a doctor in the sports medicine practice I've been going to for my knee.  They can't see me until June 18th.  My only hope at an earlier appointment is to call back in every couple of days to see if they have a cancellation.  I will be trying that.

In the meantime, I'm attempting to stay off my feet and not feel sorry for myself.  That second part is kind of hard.  I'm not great at switching gears and this pain is causing a massive downshift in my plans.  Until yesterday afternoon, I was still pushing.  I kept thinking that the pain would just pass.  Sometimes pain does that.  Today I'm not pushing so hard anymore.  I'm not a doctor and until the doctor can tell me why this is hurting, I'm going to do my best to stay off it.

What does that mean for my workouts?

First off, no stairs.  By that I mean no climbing flights of stairs at work right now.  I have stairs in my house which are functionally necessary for me living there.  Just no extra stairs.  I'll erase my count and start again after I'm either cleared by the doc or the pain goes away.  Now I just have to believe that this isn't a failure.

Secondly, cardio will be done in the pool.  I'm planning two swim workouts each week.  This afternoon I'm going to go purchase some swim goggles (did I already say that yesterday?).  I'm also spending some time on the internet tonight to pick out a new swimsuit.  Mine is embarrassingly loose (Eek!!!) and over 10 years old.  The time has come.  And gone.  And come again.

Third coping mechanism, strength workouts will be done at home.  I'm compiling a list of PT exercises that I've done and focusing on the ones which don't require standing.  Thankfully there are more than a few.  Also, I have the arm/shoulder work that the personal trainer went over with me.  I'll plan on 40 minutes of strength training twice a week, the length of time it takes to make it through one episode of Buffy (don't judge).  If I find Buffy too distracting, I'll switch to the radio.  :)

And finally...  I promise to be kind to myself.  I promise to try to be patient.  My biggest hope is that I'm making all these plans which will be deemed unnecessary tomorrow when my foot magically stops hurting.  My reality is that I have lots of things I can keep doing while my foot heals.  Now I just need to do them.

I rock!

Today I ate out with my team.  I ordered a broiled crab cake and sauteed vegetables.  It tasted great and now I can still have my pasta for dinner.  The fries were tempting, but I resisted!  It took the drive from the restaurant to my office for the full feeling to set in.  But now it's here and I'm so happy I didn't eat more.  I must remember this lesson in the coming weeks.

1. Research the restaurant.
2. Make healthy substitutions.
3. Stick to your plan.

I know not every restaurant visit will go this way, but it is nice to have a plan of attack which is working.