it's time now

I started 2012 with hopes of completing my weight loss journey. I am ending 2012 still in the midst of my weight loss journey.

There's a rather large part of me that feels like I failed. Like 2012 was nothing what it should have been. Like I let myself down and let everyone else down. But there is no reason for me to feel that way.

I didn't finish my weight loss journey this year. I'm still a ways away from the ever illusive one-derland. But I am on my way.

This year, I've tried and I've failed to lose enough wait to be in one-derland. I could focus on the failure. But why? At least I have continued to try. And I will continue to try into 2013.

I wanted 2012 to be the year. It wasn't. So now I move onto 2013 with the hope that it will be the year. I'm changing a few things for the upcoming year. I'm seeking out more support. I'm asking for help and allowing myself to receive the help I need. I'm setting a goal for Operation Red Bikini of wearing a size 10 by May 31, 2013.

I'm quite certain I'll never wear a bikini. No one else needs to see any of the stretch marks I have. Or the cellulite. But the point is not to wear a red bikini; the point is to find a goal and obtain in. This combined with the Facebook Weight Loss Challenge will help me to remain focused.

A large part of me wanted to lose weight all on my own (read: I didn't want to use Weight Watchers). I think I felt that way because I wanted to prove to myself that the weight loss would be easy. I wanted to be a success story without the assistance of chain weight loss institutions.

But I haven't been that success story yet. And I realized on Friday (the same day I mentioned the possibility of attempting Weight Watchers) that I desperately needed the help. So I joined Weight Watchers that day and immediately started tracking. There's something so freeing about tracking points instead of counting calories. And I like knowing how many extra points I can eat throughout the week. With calories counting, I never really understood how many extra calories I could consume throughout the week, so I often went over my calorie goal every single day and told myself it would all be okay.

It never was all okay. The fact that my once loose jeans are now a bit snug proves that. The scale shows an increase, and I can feel it too. Feeling the added weight is always hard - especially after realizing how much lighter you feel without it. It's not just the literal feeling of added weight; it's the emotional feeling and how it zaps any self confidence I once had.

I've tried a lot of diets. And I've been somewhat successful with them. But south beach diet isn't going to be something I can continue my whole life. I love carbs way too much for that. Weight Watchers? It's more lifestyle and realistic and if Jessica Simpson can do it then so can I.

I thought about waiting until the clock struck midnight and I stole a kiss to ring in the new year, but there's no reason to wait. And waiting would only make me hold tighter onto my pride. My sweet husband was supportive of my decision to add another monthly expense to our budget without consulting him directly due to his being at work and unreachable by phone (it also helps that my job will reimburse up to half of the cost of membership!); he wants to see me succeed more than anyone. He knows how much I want this and he would do anything to help me get there. I'm so grateful for the cheerleader and support and shoulder to cry on I have in him.

There will be more ups and more downs. Weight Watchers isn't going to magically fix things. But it's going to offer me help and support and a program that's proven to be successful.

What about you? Do you have a goal you would like to reach - a red bikini all your own? Don't spend any more time wasting that goal. Go for it. Do whatver you have to to make it happen - even if it means swallowing your pride.

(title from "red" by taylor swift)

there's a place for us

For a writer, I don't have the best memory. It's not that I don't remember things. I do - I just remember snapshots rather than complete scenes. I remember the feeling of a moment, the gist of inspirational words, but the exact words escape me.

I think that's why I've always loved fiction and how easy it is to get lost in the world created by the author. Often times it's a mix of reality and fantasy. And even though things don't always go according to plan, there's a light with every misstep and the understanding that everything will work out in the end.

Not every story has a happy ending, but there is always an ending.

Life isn't like that. Life doesn't just end; it continues to breathe and grow - even after the person living the life is gone. Each choice a person makes has a consequence. Those consequences come to the person who made the choice as well as to other people.

If the woman didn't choose to place the baby up for adoption, then the couple wouldn't have adopted the baby. If the couple hadn't adopted the baby, the baby may never have learned how to read at 5. And if the baby hadn't learned how to read at 5, then the baby may never have grown up to be a writer.

And if the writer didn't tell the story of how boy met girl, there would be no inspiring words to curl up with on a rainy day. No funny words to laugh over while stretched out on the beach with a drink in hand. No sentence to dissect in the midst of a sophomore English class. No novel to write a five-page paper over in college.

The story, even though it has a definite ending, continues on because of the author's choice to write the story.

I've always been drawn to fiction because it gives me hope. I've always felt better suited for writing fiction because I didn't have to remember. I could grasp onto the moments in my life and enjoy the murkiness of those memories without having to squint and force the details to come into focus. And I've always loved fiction because I could hide my own realities behind it.

Then I made the choice to start a blog, and suddenly there is no hiding any realities. It is all about showcasing the good and the bad along with the somewhere in between.

Writing a blog is stretching me. It's causing me to look at the world more carefully. I'm taking in the edges and the details along with the whole picture. I'm going back to those little moments and dissecting them, trying to understand why I felt the way I did and what the air felt like and who was present.

There are certain moments that stand out. One was on a bridge. I was in junior high. The church I grew up in was at Conclaves. It was the end of the weekend. Split into our small groups, we wrote notes to one another. Notes of affirmation. Notes that could be pulled out years later and hopefully serve as the beacon of hope through whatever darkness we might be facing in that moment. I don't know the exact words that were written, though I am sure they are hidden somewhere in my bedroom at my parents house, but I remember how they made me feel. I felt inspired and good enough and loved. Three things that are sometimes difficult for a teenage girl to feel no matter how much she hears those things.

The other day I started putting together a bucket list. One of the items on the bucket list was to become an inspiration. While looking at the list earlier today, I found a comment from a friend of mine that read you can mark done on this one too...you have always been an inspiration to me.


Those words took me back to that bridge. And to other moments. Times when people poured into me and told me words of affirmation. Times when I heard that something I said or wrote - something I did - made a difference in someone else's life.

In those other moments, I would take the words, believe them for a moment, and then release them. But this time I held onto the words and thought about them. I considered what they meant. And I wondered what it was about me that made me feel like I shouldn't or couldn't believe the words.

I started wondering about what it is about all of us that makes us all feel that we aren't good enough. I started wondering about what it would be like if we started to see ourselves the way other people saw us.

How different my life would be if I saw myself as an inspiration. How different my life would be if I considered myself a writer. How different my life would be if I saw my dreams as realities and not impossibilities.

I don't have it all figured out (clearly). I'm stumbling and fumbling along in my weight loss journey. Rather than writing a novel, I think about the characters and the plot. And so maybe I'm not the one to spark a revolution for the whole world, but I am the one to spark a revolution for my own life.

So I am going to do the thing I've never been able to do. I'm going to take the words of affirmation, years worth of words of affirmation, and I am going to believe them. I am going to remember how it felt the first time I heard the words. I am going to concentrate on the details and allow them to seep into future memories. I am going to allow the words I once hid away to effect the rest of my life and maybe make their way into someone else's life.

I am going to be the person so many people already see me as.

(title from "romeo & juliet" by edwin mccain)

i'm right here

Wednesday was my six-month anniversary.

Six months ago, after months of feeling sick and being in constant pain, I learned my liver enzymes were slightly elevated and that I had non-alcoholic fatty liver disease. It wasn't the answer I expected, and other than diet, there was no other information given to me about why my enzymes were elevated. The doctor didn't really know why, and there was no real way of finding out other than having a biopsy. Instead, he decided I should come in once every six months.

So I went back to the doctor on Wednesday.

I was ready. I had lost 25 pounds in six months. The number wasn't as high as I wanted. But I was excited to step onto the scale in the doctor's office and then talk with him about how I had lost 25 pounds.

My first experience with this doctor wasn't the best, but Wednesday made up for the first experience. He told me I was doing great - that I was losing the weight the best way possible. He reminded me that it was better to lose the weight slowly - by diet and exercise - because I was much more likely to keep it off.

I left the doctor's office excited about my weight loss and with a bruised right elbow due to having blood drawn for another test on my liver enzymes. Both the doctor and I expected the levels to be lower. In fact, he even said we would test the enzymes just to see how much they had gone down, and he said he would then have his office call me with the results.

Six hours later, I got the call. My liver enzymes were higher now than they had been six months ago. The doctor wasn't concerned. I wasn't being prescribed any medication. But I felt the weight settle onto me.

I had a choice. I could give into the feelings that nothing I was doing enough. I could give into the thought that counting calories, sweating at the gym, and not eating fast food was no longer worth it. I could see this journey in two ways: the lack of weight lost on the scale and the liver enzymes being elevated. Or I could show everyone wrong and remind my body that no matter what it threw at me I was going to beat this thing and be healthy.

I took about 15 minutes to be upset. And angry. Frustrated. Sad. Worried. And confused. Then, I chose to show everyone wrong and remind my body that I was in control.

I had started the day off with a 30-minute work out on the stationary bicycle and burned 233 calories before even stepping foot into the doctor's office. When I stepped back into the gym that afternoon, I was determined to burn at least 600 calories.

Ninety minutes later, I walked out of the gym having burned 857 calories. Not only that, I walked out of the gym with a new outlook. As much as I loved that I burned 1090 calories for the day, I loved the outlook even more.

When I work out, I need to have music that pushes me and inspires me. Some days I listen to nothing but *N Sync and music by *N Sync members. Other days, I listen to a mix of Britney Spears and Pink. Today, I listened to what used to be my circuit training playlist. Fifteen minutes into my 40 minute elliptical work out, an old song came on. A song that not too many people know called Girl From The Gutter by Kina.

As the words came through my earbuds, I increased my speed and focused my attention on the wall in front of me. Memories of people who had hurt me, things people had said, things I had told myself I could never do rushed through my head. I pushed myself faster and moved my hips and my arms even more. When the song ended, I hit the back button and started it over again.

I still have work to do. I think I will always have some work to do. But I know that I have less work to do now than I did last week.

I'm letting go of the things that have held me back. The fears I have. The worries that sometimes consume me. The reasons I've eaten too much at some points in my life and too little at other times. The excuses I have made and the things I have said I could never do.

Because I can do this. I can lose this weight and keep it off. I can make good choices and correct the damage that has been done to my body. And I will do all of it.

Every day is a choice. A choice on what to eat and how much to eat. A choice to go to the gym and how hard to push myself. A choice to drink water and how much of it to drink. A choice to put myself and my journey first.

Wednesday I made the right choices. And I made a choice not to give up. I'll make the same choice today, tomorrow, the next day, and the next day.

Because I am going to do this. No matter what.

(title from "girl from the gutter" by kina)

the time is right

I wanted to quit Thursday. I blamed it on the fact that there was a different instructor for zumba and on the fact that I couldn't quite get into the zone on the rowing machine or on the bicycle. But placing blame on anything other than myself is futile. It's up to me to make a workout into what I need and want it to be.

Still, I was beyond discouraged. I had done so well sticking to my exercise goals. I didn't want to let go of those goals. But what I quickly learned was that it was my body telling me it needed something other than what I fed it.

The morning started with McDonald's Egg McMuffin and a non-fat caramel mocha. It was the second morning in a row for to me to eat and drink those calories for breakfast. I blamed it on the fact that we were out of eggs at our house and said I was out of time. But it was my choice to wait in the drive-thru and pay for breakfast rather than eating greek yogurt for breakfast and not for a mid-day snack.

I felt like my eating had been under control. I felt like I was making better choices. And I was. Only my better choices were better than what I had made months ago when I might have splurged on two Egg McMuffins.

There's a quote by Jillian Michaels that says "The past doesn't define you, your present does. It's okay to create a vision of the future because it affects your behavior in the "now," but don't dwell on past mistakes. Learn from them and focus those lessons in the moment. That’s where change can really happen."

While I've learned to let go of the past, I am still holding onto the thought process of what I am doing now is much better than what I've done in the past so the weight should just be falling off. After all, I completed a total of nine work outs between Monday morning and Friday afternoon; that should be enough.

But it's not enough. Because how I fuel my body impacts how I work out and how I feel at the end of the day.

So while I wanted to quit, I chose to keep going. I made better choices for lunch the rest of the week. I rushed home and made a healthy dinner for my husband on Thursday, and then I headed to the gym for circuit training with a personal trainer.

 

a combined 815 calories burned.

I, honestly, do not think I have worked out as hard as I did that afternoon. With someone watching me, telling me how to complete the reps and making sure I kept my heart rate up the whole time, I finished the 30-minutes of circuit training with sweat dripping down my forehead and soaking my back. My legs felt like Jell-O, and I felt accomplished.

I planned to head home but instead went to another class which focused on abs and the back. By the end of the hour long work out, I felt rejuvenated and refreshed. The evening work out surpassed my expectations and made up for the lunch work out that was not.

I no longer wanted to quit. Instead, I wanted to keep going (and going).

Friday morning I had every intention of jumping out of bed at 5:15 and heading to the gym. I wanted to spend time running and walking on the treadmill. I wanted the sweat and achy legs every good morning should start with. But my legs still felt like Jell-O when I woke up. My shoulders and triceps ached. My nose was stuffy. And my body told me it needed more rest.

Maybe it was the fact that I stayed up too late watching Tuesday's episode of The Biggest Loser on my DVR. Or maybe it was that I ate too much ice cream (sugar free!) last night while watching The Biggest Loser. It could have been that after eight work outs in four days my body was just plain exhausted. So I listened. And I cuddled up with the dogs and fell back asleep for another 90 minutes.

When I woke up, I felt refreshed. My legs were a bit more firm, and I was ready to tackle the day. I promised myself that I would make good choices. I promised myself that I would succeed, and I did. I focused on what I ate and how much I ate. I pushed myself at the gym during spin class. I drank nothing but water - including when we went out for dinner.

Most of the weekend was a success as well. I completed over 50 minutes of cardio on Saturday morning. I recognized the bad choices I made (finishing off the sugar free mint chocolate chip ice cream) and promised myself that I would keep from making those same bad choices again. And I decided on a plan to prevent future excursions into the ice cream container - not buying ice cream unless it is already in an individual serving. I ate sushi and drank lots of water before going to the Taylor Swift concert. I allowed myself to take a day off from exercise, allowing my body to heal some, and rewarded my hard work with new workout clothes and two books.

And then I took a picture of myself in my new workout clothes and started to see what others have been telling me that they saw - change.

Comparing my current state of mind now to the state of mind I had on Thursday isn't something I can really do. Because I don't want to return to where I was on Thursday; I want to recognize my current successes and remind myself that I am capable of doing this. And I want to move forward.

So I will.

I will allow myself days off when I need them. I will reward myself with healthy rewards (IE: anything but food). I will take time to see my successes, point them out to other people (which I did with my husband), and remember that there are more successes to come. And when I stumble? Because I will stumble. I will pick myself back up and never give up; I will take the responsibility I need to and then move forward.

(title from "you are here" by needtobreathe)

the walls we crashed through

My alarm went off at 5:10 Monday morning. I pressed the snooze button and then rolled out of bed at 5:17am. It was difficult to keep my eyes open, but I stumbled through the house and pulled on shorts, a tee-shirt, and a sweatshirt since it was cold outside.

I arrived at the gym a little after 5:30. My bleary eyes were clear, and I felt ready to tackle a 30-minute circuit workout. One sweaty bra, several ounces of water, and five minutes of stretching later I was done. My forehead was dripping sweat. My heart rate got up to 153 and averaged at 132. I knew I could have pushed myself harder and promised myself that I would - next time.

That afternoon, instead of sitting at a table and eating my sandwich (and then twiddling my thumbs for an hour), I took to the pool for my lunch break.

Swimming is something I love. Being in chlorinated water is like being home for me. I spent several years improving my stroke and racing alongside other swimmers for the Katy Aquatics. There were many times I fought against practice, and eventually, I quit.

My parents were never ones to push. They wanted me to maintain my commitments, but it was always up to me to decide what I would do and to see it through. They supported me in all my endeavors (acting, voice lessons, horseback riding, swimming, etc.), but it was up to me to do the hard work.

There's a part of me that, just like then, wants to quit now. Because it's hard. But unlike then, I refuse to quit. I am going to see this weight loss thing through because I can.

When I stopped swimming, I didn't realize how it would affect everything. I went from being relatively athletic to being overweight. I was never as thin as my friends, and I remember looking at the picture of my in the swimsuit and seeing a chubby girl. What I see now is a girl who had muscles and a different build than many of my friends. At the time, I wanted to win races and compete for a long time, but I stopped, partilally because it seemed like everyone else was so much better and faster than I was.

It doesn't matter how fast I am. I don't have to compete against anyone else. This journey.. this LIFE.. isn't about comparing myself to someone else. It isn't about losing more weight than another woman in my shoes or being better than someone else. It's about losing the weight I have to lose and being better than I have been in the past.

I've heard from many people in my life that I seem so dedicated. That I am doing well. That they are proud of me. That I'm inspiring them to go after the same things I am. And while I appreciate the words, I so often feel like I am none of those things. I so often feel like the girl who loved the chlorinated water but still quit.

I would take it back if I could. I would stick with the swimming. I would have made sure to try out for the team in high school. I wouldn't have settled for just lifeguarding and eaching swim lessons.

But I can't take it back. And it's time that I stop wishing I could take it back or wondering what would have happened if I had stuck with it. All I can do right now is see this thing through and not quit as I have in the past.

 

Workout #1 and Workout #2 from 10/10/11. 598 calories burned.

I remembered all of this as my alarm went off at 5:00 this morning, and I strongly considered hitting hte snooze buttonand falling back asleep for another hour. Instead of slipping deeper into the covers, I threw both legs off the bed and got up - excited dogs and all.

My workout was a little rushed due to needing to get home and shower before work, but I finished the 52-minute workout sweaty and sore thanks to the 15 minutes of stationary bicycle and 7 minutes of treadmill and then 30 minutes of weights. Looking at my heart rate monitor, I know I need to work on icreasing my heart rate and getting into a different zone as my maximum heart rate was 145 and the average was 130.

The goal I had for the lunchtime workout was to spend the majority of the time in "zone 2." I headed off to zumba and checked my heart rate monitor periodically. I wanted to pump my fist every time I saw I was in the right zone but instead just did my best to complete the steps as close to correctly as possible. And hour later, I found that I had spent just over 50 minutes in "zone 2" with a maximum heart rate of 152 and an average heart rate of 137.

 

Workout #1 and Workout #2 from 10/11/11. 989 calories burned.

Seeing those numbers (989 calories burned!) inspires me. It makes me want to head right back to the gym after work. But instead I'll spend the night with friends from church - burning calories from laughing. Seeing those numbers also reminds me of just how far I have come - all the way from the girl who quit swimming to the girl who is pushing herself past the point of quitting. And those numbers make me quite excited for tomorrow's work out. 30-minute circuit and water aerobics - here I come!

(title from "long live" by taylor swift)

i ain't lost - just wandering

I started my weight loss journey with one thought in mind. And that thought was that I would make no excuses.

I did well with no excuses for a few months. There were morning workouts and everyday afternoon workouts in the pool. I tracked almost every morsel of food that I put into my mouth. I weighed myself weeklydaily and saw a consistent (slow) loss.

I struggled through some of the first months, but I still did something almost every day. There were days when I ate more than I should have, as well as things I shouldn't have, but I continued to track the calories.

I saw a stall in my weight. I found it more difficult to wake up in the morning. I stopped having someone to meet at the gym. And then I stopped going to the gym in the morning. I stopped tracking what I ate. And I started making excuses.

For the past several weeks, I realized that the excuses were getting out of hand. Every night, I set my alarm, and every morning, I woke up with the alarm but made the choice to reset the alarm and fall back into a not so very restful sleep. And every day, I regretted the choice and promised myself that I would wake up the next morning for a workout.

My excuses were vast. No one to go work out with. Dogs who wanted to cuddle in the morning. A late night the day before. The fact that I could go work out after work or during lunch. Needing a break. Letting my muscles rest.

In moderation, those things are good. There does need to be rest. Some mornings it is okay to feed my soul by cuddling with the dogs instead of lifting weights and sweating through my sports bra. But when the reasons for not working out overpower the number of workouts in a week, there is a problem.

I saw the problem, but I didn't see a solution. I wanted motivation that just wasn't coming. I also wanted it to be easy, but it wasn't easy. It was really hard.

But that's the point. If exercise and weight loss were easy, then no one would sit on the couch and contemplate heading into the gym instead of actually heading into the gym. Because it's hard, a person has to make a daily choice to exercise and an hourly choice to eat well and eat for the right reasons.

Armed with a week off work, a pair of new shoes, and a new heart rate monitor, I am back into the game of making no more excuses.

It started on Friday. I left for the gym and concentrated through a 30-minute circuit work-out. And then, on Saturday, I dropped my husband off at the golf course and then made my way to the gym. A little over an hour later, I was sweaty and had burned off almost 600 calories. I felt invigorated and excited to be back at the gym. Sunday morning came, and I promised myself I would make it to the gym that day - whether in the early hours of the day or later in the day.

It didn't happen this morning, and when the afternoon rolled around, the skies continued to drop several inches of rain and partially flood the roadways. The easy thing would have been to said it wasn't safe to drive. The easy thing would have been to change into a sweatshirt and cuddle up on the couch. But I didn't want to do the easy thing.

So I started by putting my shorts and tee-shirt on. Then I slipped my feet into my new shoes and jogged out into the rain. I took the drive slowly, but I made it to the gym. Nothing was going to hold me back.

The heart rate monitor I received tracks my workouts. It also suggests how many hours a week I should spend exercising in order to lose weight,  and it informs me of what "zone" I am in as well as how much time I need to spend in each zone every week to meet my goals. It's like a personal trainer but without all the yelling.

I wore it on Saturday, and I wore it on Sunday. And already I don't know what I did without it. Seeing the number of calories I've burned as well as knowing what my average heart rate is inspires me and makes me want to push myself more. I'm able to let go of the handrail on the treadmill and actually run for part of my cardio work out.

Now, I want to make a workout plan and stick to it. Now, I am excited for pressing the "train" button on my heart rate monitor and then pushing myself to run for a whole minute and then walk and then run again for a whole minute. I lose seeing my heart rate get above 158 and knowing that I did it on my own without someone pushing me and forcing me to work off the pounds.

And then, when I sit down to eat, I want to make better choices. I don't want to eat something greasy and fried just for the sake of eating something greasy and fried. There are moments when I will make the decision to have pizza for dinner, and those moments are okay as long as they are just moments and not every single day of the week happenings.

So what is my plan? I want to work out once every day for the next few weeks. But if a work out doesn't happen one day, I want to be okay with that. And I want to work out for the sake of working out - not to make up for the poor choices I made earlier in the day (as I've had a tendency to do). I know that food plays just as much, if nor more of, a role as exercise does. But I also know that the more I exercise the better I will eat. So I will start with time spent in the gym, and I will finish with better choices in the kitchen.

My exercise plan is as follows:

Is it ambitious? Yes. Impossible? No.

This time it is up to me. There will be no one to meet at the gym in the mornings. No one to decide when I complete each work out. No one except for me. And as much as I want that assistance, that accountability, I know that this journey is a solo journey and every decision comes down to me.

I'll either succeed because of my hard work and determination. Or I will fail. No one else can make me do it. And while it's a difficult realization to come to, I'm excited that no one else will be able to take credit for my success.

(title from "hometown glory" by adele)

 

run toward the fire

Last week, I met with a trainer. I was finally over my wall (or through it - whichever you prefer), but my weight plateaued. The scale stopped moving for the most part though it did show the occasional gain. Friends continues to mention I looked slimmer, so I chose to blame the muscle I was gaining as the culprit for the stalled scale.

And it is possible the muscle was to blame. But it was also possible that my habits - both with exercise and with eating - were to blame. So I made the choice to try something different.

I wasn't sure what to expect with this meeting. In high school, I worked out with a trainer for some time, but that was years ago and I barely remember what it entailed. I had my hopes of a full work out, of him pushing me and showing me that I was capable of more.

Meetings with personal trainer, much like the rest of life, do not mirror shows like "Extreme Makeover: Weight Loss Edition" or "The Biggest Loser." Rather than run on the treadmill until I thought I would pass out or feel like I was going to die from lifting too much weight, we sat down at a small table and discussed what I am currently doing. Then, before he had a chance to see how much I could lift, he wrote down a plan and included the amount he thought I should be lifting.

I left the session frustrated. And feeling as though nothing was going to change.

To be honest, I went into the session hoping someone would push me out of my comfort zone and into a zone where I tried harder than I ever had before. And while I didn't get a person to push me out of my comfort zone, I gained some knowledge of how to push myself out of my comfort zone.

It didn't happen on Thursday or on Friday. But on Saturday, I forced myself to go to the gym. I then also forced myself to try something new - something that would inevitably leave me sore and barely able to move.

The trainer mentioned spending at least one day completing a 30-minute circuit. The thought of spending a minute doing cardio and then a minute of weight lifting was daunting to say the least. But instead of shying away from the task at hand, I turned the music from my iPod up, gritted my teeth, and determined that I would finish the 30-minute circuit.

And I did finish. Barely. But I finished. I spent the rest of the day in pain and all of Sunday barely able to move. But I finished.

Trying something new while at the gym has turned into trying something new while at home as well.

When I started my journey to lose 100 pounds in April 2011, I decided not to diet. I wanted to make a lifelong change; I didn't want to make a short term change and then find that I would be unable to maintain the weight loss. I made changes to what I ate and how I ate. I did my best to count every calorie.

It worked. But eventually I plateaued. And I found myself bored with frozen dinners and wanting to eat ice cream and egg noodles with alfredo sauce when I got home.

A friend from work mentioned the South Beach Diet. I heard the word "diet" and immediately said no. I reminded her of my wanting to not diet but wanting to change my lifestyle. And then I went on with the rest of my day.

I continued to go back to the thought of the South Beach Diet, and I eventually entered the search term "south beach diet phase 1" into Google. After researching both the diet itself and recipes I could make at home, I said I was in, and I started this new lifestyle on Monday morning.

It would be easy enough to call it a diet. To say that for the next several months I will watch how much and what kind of carbohydrates I eat. To explain that I am going to limit the amount of sugar I eat for the next several months. To think that when all is said and done I can go back to eating whatever I want and whenever I want in moderation and as long as I remain active.

But I won't be able to go back to eating whatever I want. And I shouldn't go back to eating whenever I want. I should commit to whatever changes I make, and I should recognize the foods that have led me astray in the past and do whatever I can to not allow them to lead me astray again.

I started this new lifestyle days ago. In the past, had I started a new lifestyle days ago, I would have also ended the new lifestyle days ago. It wouldn't have been because of a lack of desire but because of a lack of discipline - a lack of drive.

Exercising almost every day has provided me with more discipline than I thought I had. It has also shown me that I can do more than I thought I could. It has reminded me that I can push myself - that I don't have to fear pushing myself too far. And so I have taken this discipline and applied it to eating.

As hard as it is to not eat carbohydrates like baked potatoes and pasta, I've shown myself that I can do it. Just like I showed myself that I can push myself and complete a 30-minute circuit work out.

And I did it almost all on my own. No reality television show or personal trainer needed.

(title from "satisfied" by jewel)

i will not break

On Sunday, after church and before lunch with my in-laws, we sat down and started a discussion. We talked about my writing and my weight loss and all of the other changes currently happening in our lives.

My husband has always been supportive of my writing. He wants the best for me. He wants to see my succeed as a writer. And he wants to see me view myself as a writer instead of just talking about how I want to be a writer.

I'm not sure how the conversation started. But, like many things, it doesn't necessarily matter how it started. What really matters is how it ended. And it ended with the unending and unwavering support he has always provided me - even during those moments when I made it almost impossible to be supportive.

The life of a writer is a lonely one. So is the life of an individual trying to lose 100 pounds (80 pounds now). But the life of the significant other of a writer and of an individual trying lose such a large amount of weight? That is a lonely one also.

It's lonely because dedication has to be given to writing and to losing weight. There are nights when I need to choose the gym over sitting on the couch and catching up. Nights when I am too tired from my one or two work-outs a day to do much of anything. Nights when I crawl into bed before he does - which is saying something given he has to be at work by 5am and works at least nine hours a day.

And it's lonely because all of this - the writing and the weight loss - is mine to do. He can be supportive. He can lift me up. But he can't do the work for me.

On Sunday, I asked him if he was worried about all of these changes. I wondered if, somewhere inside of him, he thought I might change from the person I was when we met to someone he didn't know any longer. We've been through so many changes in our almost three years of marriage and almost four years of knowing each other. And the thought of adding more change is daunting.

But with love and grace, he told me the same thing he has always said. That all he really wants is for me to be okay. That he would much rather lose everything in the world as long as I was not anxious and as long as I felt safe.


Then he told me he was excited. Excited for me to become the first I am supposed to be. Excited for me to feel comfortable in my own skin. Excited to stand beside me as I see all of the potential I have and then claim it as my own. The sky is the limit, he told me.

I've heard it before. I've repeated those words to others before - to my own husband even. Telling him about his potential and how he never gives himself credit, and then turning around and telling myself I just couldn't do it.

I would look for the tricks. What can I do that is easy that will get me from point a (needing to lose weight; talking about writing) to point b (healthy and fit; finished manuscript and cover letter)? And the answer was always nothing.

I took it as not being my time. But in truth, it was always my time. I had just never decided to do the hard work.

And there are times when I still don't want to do the hard work. When I am too tired and devoid of inspiration to sit on the couch and hammer out a blog post. Moments when my bed is too comfortable and I can't fathom rolling out of it and driving to the gym.

But it's not really about wanting to do the hard work. It's about just doing it.

And so, after our conversation on Sunday, I started to do the hard work. Thinking about blog posts. Considered the manuscript I finished three years ago and then restarted eighteen months ago. Remembered how I feel after each and every work out.

And I recommitted to myself. To my husband. To God. That this time is the time.

I started yesterday. One workout at lunch. And a second workout after an eight hour day of work. I continued today - leaving for the gym at 5am, working out for over an hour, and then completing a second workout at lunch. I filled my plate with salad at dinner and only a small amount of spaghetti. I didn't go back for more ice cream even though I had leftover calories to "spend."

Friends can mention the choices I make with what I eat. My husband can raise his eyebrows when I go back for a second (sometimes third) Skinny Cow ice cream sandwich. And it might affect me. I might have a twinge of guilt and wonder if maybe they are right. But I still make the decision I want to make.

It's the same with writing. At the end of the day, it is my decision to sit down and write a blog post sharing my journey. It is also my decision to ignore my hope to write a novel - to just talk about writing a novel instead of actually finishing it.

Are these the same thoughts I've struggled with recently? They're the same thoughts I've struggled with for years, really. It is a constant battle between what I know I should do, what I want to do, and then what I actually do.

I am okay with fighting the same battles because I know that eventually I will win.

And I have won this week. Both through my work outs already completed and through my decision to sit down and write. And through my making better choices at dinner. And I will continue to win by finishing scheduled work outs and not giving up.

The life of a writer and of a woman trying to lose weight is a lonely one. It's a solo journey. Every choice is left up to me. I accept that.

But the cheerleaders I have in my life? My husband. My friends. My family. Those people I live in community with. My roommate and workout partner. The ladies I see every day at water aerobics. They all remind me that I am not alone. And when I want to give up, when I feel like nothing is enough, they remind me that success is always, and will always, be an option. (And saving motivating pictures and quotes on pinterest helps too.)

(title from "bend and not break" by dashboard confessional)