there'll come a day

After a week away from the gym and then a week finding myself back in the gym, I've realized that I need to push myself even harder. I need to not become comfortable with the gym. I need to constantly push myself to run faster, bike harder, and lift heavier.

The gym still intimidates me. When I first started this journey, it terrified me. I felt out of place and as though I would never belong. I wasn't thin or tan or fit or pretty or anything that I thought the other people in the gym were. And even though the gym intimidates me, I am determined to continue to step foot into the gym and continue to ignore the other people at the gym.

When I step foot into the gym, I do it with purpose. My purpose is to sweat, to burn calories, to move as much as I possibly can. It's not to socialize or meet new people. I love having a friend next to me on the elliptical or on the mat because my friends push me to work out harder.

The further I go into this journey to more I see that my work outs need to constantly change. The first work out I completed left me exhausted and sore. As I continued to push myself and spend time in the gym, the soreness disappeared. I enjoyed completing a work out, waking up the next morning with no soreness and getting after it again. I felt like I was getting stronger. And I was, in a lot of ways, but I was also becoming complacent and comfortable.

It's no secret that the body adapts to exercise. The body is smart. It recognizes the movements and becomes comfortable with those movements. And that comfort makes it so that the body stops adapting and stop changing. No amount of exercise, for me at least, can undo the comfort unless the movements are different.

Changing exercise scares me. I'm worried about getting hurt. I'm worried about doing exercises incorrectly. I'm worried about looking like a fool in front of other people who know what they are doing.

Last Wednesday, I took a chance. There was a free boot camp hosted at my place of employment. All you had to do to participate was to bring a canned food. So I borrowed a can of food from a co-worker and headed to boot camp with her.

That day I did things I wasn't sure I could do. I tried new exercises. I spoke up when I couldn't do something and took the instruction on how to modify movements to meet my needs. And I didn't give up.

Months ago, I met with a trainer for a personalized consultation. He wrote down weights for me to complete without really listening to my needs. And he told me that I should do planks and squats. I told him I didn't know what a plank was and that I could not do squats.

He mentioned that I should attend one of his classes and that he would then show me how to do the proper squat as well as teach me how to do a plank. I thought about going, but I never did. I was too scared.

It wasn't just fear of doing squats and possibly getting hurt. There was fear of letting someone in and seeking advice. That sounds odd; after all a trainer's job is to show individuals how to exercise in such a way that gets results and also meets the needs of one person's body.

I've gotten over that fear now. All of those fears. It happened one day in zumba class when the instructor began doing squats in the middle of the class, and I had nothing to but learn how to complete squats with the proper form.

So I did the squats then. And after class was done, I walked out of the gym. My knees never gave out as I feared they would. I completed squats again in other zumba classes, and I spent time doing squats while at the boot camp on Wednesday.

After mentioning my knee injuries to the trainers, they checked on me. Making sure I was okay with the different circuits. Asking how I felt with squats. And I told them I was good that I knew to listen to my body and that I wouldn't push myself too far.

I didn't. I pushed myself and tried new things. I sweated a lot and woke up the next day sore. But I wasn't hurt.

I'm chasing the soreness now. I want to feel my muscles working and strengthening. I want to know, as soon as I wake up the next morning, that I am no longer comfortable with my own work outs.

I am so much more open to exercise now. I'm excited to try different classes and to learn what other things I can do that I didn't think I could. I'm excited to see how I improve at squats. I'm excited to jump on the elliptical throughout the week and run out several miles.

Every time I do a squat and finish a mile, I move further away from the fear and closer to the fit and healthy person I am chasing. Every time I push myself and try something new, I remind myself that this journey is mine for the taking. Every time I complete a work out with shaking arms, as I did today, or wake up sore from the work out the day before, I move further and further away from comfortable.

(title from "the sun will rise" by kelly clarkson)

so hard to believe it

I started Monday morning off by stepping onto the scale at the prompting of my heart rate monitor.

I stepped onto the scale a few times over the weekend and had an idea of what the number would be, but I was hopeful that a decent night's sleep would lower the number. It took just a few seconds for those hopes to be dashed.

I've said it before (and will continue to say it for the rest of time). This journey is about so much more than weight loss. But knowing that the journey is about more than weight loss does not remove the sting of watching that number stay the same.

It's a balance. A balance I am still seeking to find. A balance I will likely continue to search for.

Balance is something I struggle with in every aspect of my life. I want so badly to give all of myself to every aspect of my life, but unfortunately, it is not possible to give all of myself to every aspect of life. And so something always falls to the wayside.

I'm not sure how to find the balance right now. Or if I can even find the balance. I've tried to locate balance in the past and strategically place myself somewhere that will allow me to handle every role in my life. But I have always failed.

Life takes over so often. And different things take priority. As life takes over and those different things take priority, balance is often the first thing to go.

When I worked for the state, I gave everything to my job and to the families I worked with. Most weeks involved at least three nights of working past 7:00pm and clocking at least 45 hours. I spent over 50% of my work week driving in a car. Every visit I did lasted at least an hour because every child deserved my full attention. By the time I arrived home, I had nothing left to give.

Then, to make up for those almost two years of focusing just on my job, I tried to focus on church and on my husband. There was no real time left for me to focus on myself, and eventually, I found myself in a place where I was unhealthy and unfit and unmotivated.

I'm at a place right now where most of my time is spent in the gym. I also spend a lot of time grocery shopping and meal planning. When I can, I read about weight loss or watch The Biggest Loser for inspiration. In one week of exercise, I burned over 4000 calories, and yet I lost no weight.

It was on Monday that my trainer said I might be overtraining. And it was on Monday that he suggested I zig-zag my calories (1700 calories one day, 1400 calories two days, 2200 calories one day). He said I was doing all of the right things, but that my body was, essentially, going into starvation mode due to my consuming less calories and burning so many.

To be honest, I wanted to hear nothing that he said. I wanted to continue to push myself past the pain and past the exhaustion. But something clicked on Tuesday night, and I realized that he was right.

I've lost balance. My dedication to this journey has been so strong and so consuming that I have not allowed my body any time to rest. I've watched what I ate so closely on every day of the week, and my body decided it wasn't sure what to do with the exercise and restriction of calories.

Taking my trainer's advice, and also encouraging words from friends, I decided to rest this week. Rather than spend two plus hours at the gym every day, I committed to spending at least 45 minutes a day in the gym. If I felt up to more, then I would do more, but if I didn't, I would spend time at home resting.

In a lot of ways, the week has been hard. I feel like I am slacking or failing by not spending at least two hours in the gym every day. But in other ways, this week has been exactly what I needed. My body aches, especially my knees, and I'm sleeping a lot more than I normally do. It seems like I am catching up on all the rest I did not allow myself for several weeks.

And it's working. The rest and the zig-sag of calories. The advice the trainer gave me and encouragement of friends. All of it is working.

I stepped on the scale this morning and saw a 2.2 pound drop. Not even a week of this attempt at balance has passed, and I've lost over 2 pounds. I'm officially at my lowest weight and have finally surpassed the 25 pounds lost mark.

It took me just over six months, but I've lost 27.2 pounds. My BMI has gone from 38.7 to 34.7.

Now that I have gotten closer to finding balance in my life, I need to figure out how to keep the balance. My time needs to be spent both in the gym and in the grocery store, with my husband, at home and out with friends, and focused on work. Knowing that is one thing, but doing it is something else entirely.

I think there will be a lot of soul searching. A lot of asking the hard questions of myself. A lot of answering those questions. A lot of moving on from those things that, at one point, made me feel like it had to be all or nothing. A lot of moving on from those things that, at one point, made me feel like I wasn't good enough to have everything I wanted.

And as I find that balance, I sincerely hope it will give me more time. More time with my husband. More time to enjoy the blessings God continues to give me. More time to write. More time to dream and then learn how to make those dreams a reality. More time to focus on myself. More time to focus on others and remind them that they, too, are worth the balance.
(title from "the sun will rise" by kelly clarkson)

a story to tell

From the start, I knew this would be a journey. I knew there would be ups and downs. I figured there would be moments of weight loss and moments of no weight loss. And I knew that I would have to change my path.

Just like any journey, I had to be ready when I started. Most people don't wake up one morning, decide to travel to Europe and then jump on a plane that day. When there is a trip to Europe, there is planning. Lots of planning. I know; I've done the planning.

And just like any journey, I have had to be flexible. Not everything goes according to plan when traveling. There are missed connections and bus routes that are almost impossible to understand. If you travel with a group, there might be negative relationships. It's up to you to decide whether or not to be flexible. And not being flexible can ruin the entire journey.

With a journey, you have to be ready to push yourself into trying new things - into doing things you never thought you would. When traveling, this can mean trying new foods like the time I tried donkey meat in China. With weight loss, it can mean trying a new class or it could be actually running.

I pushed myself tonight. It wasn't much by a lot of standards, but for me, it was a lot. I didn't give up even though I wanted to. I pushed through the 20-minute mark on the elliptical - the one where I usually decide I am tired and move onto the next thing. I ran right past the 1-mile mark on the elliptical - the one where I decide I've done enough.

I spent over 40 minutes on the elliptical. I ran over three miles. And then I lifted weights.

I could have gone longer on the elliptical. I could have lifted more weights. It was the biggest breakthrough I've had. It showed me just how strong I really am. It reminded me that I have so much farther to go, and it made me so excited for the rest of the journey.

I loved Europe. It was one of the best experiences of my life. As was my time in China. And this weight loss journey I am on? It's just as good.

(title from "gotta figure it out" by erin mccarley)

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)

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)

stars in your eyes

After a week and weekend filled with delicious, but not so healthy food, I expected to step on the scale today for my weekly weigh-in and see one of two things: 1. No weight loss or weight gain or 2. The first weight gain of my journey.

Instead, I saw a loss. Over a pound loss to be exact. Bringing my total weight loss to 17.8 pounds.

After seeing the loss, I started to notice other things. Definition in my calves. Definition in my biceps. A smaller stomach. Stomach muscles instead of just flab.

It's a start. A step in the right direction. Something I needed after a week of feeling so far from my goal and a week of crying because of every little thing.

There is still such a long ways to go, but in mere weeks, I will be a fifth of the way there.

The further I head into this journey the more I learn about myself and about my body. I'm learning to not go to the gym and sleep in on the mornings when it hurts to open my eyes and my feet feel like bricks. I'm learning to push myself and increase weights when I feel like a work-out is too easy instead of just gliding through another morning of weight lifting.

I mentioned yesterday that I wished I could afford a physical trainer. That I wanted someone to push me - someone other than friends and family. I brought this up last night when we met with friends from church for our weekly community group.

And someone made a statement that stuck with me then - a statement that I am still processing in my mind. The statement was something along the lines of looking at how far I have come on my own.

When I stepped on the scale earlier today, the statement came back to me. When I noticed the definition in my arms and my soon-to-be toned stomach, I realized the truth behind the statement.

There's a part of me that wants to do this all on my own without the assistance of a trainer pushing me harder and harder. There's also a part of me that is terrified of doing all of this on my own.
Really it doesn't matter whether I do this on my own or with the help of a trainer. I'm going to achieve the results I want either way. I'm not going to fall victim to hitting a plateau or of giving up when things get difficult.

It's a choice. Every day, I wake up and make the choice to go to the gym or to sleep longer. Every day, I make the choice to eat what I brought for lunch or run our for a healthy (or not healthy) lunch. Every day, I make the choice to spend my lunch hour in the pool. Every day, I make the choice to eat a large bowl of ice cream or a single serving of dessert.

And I document all these choices on my blog, on twitter, and on facebook. I document the choices to remind myself that every choice really means something, and I document the choices to keep myself accountable with friends and family.

There's a part of me that hates sharing every up and down. It's the part that worries too much over how the words come out. The part that feels my emotions are too varying to share - the part that wonders if people won't get sick of seeing me happy one day and then struggling the next.

But there's a bigger part that loves putting my progress onto a blog. It's the part that smiles when I'm told I inspire someone. It's the part that remembers how loving people and how happy people are to see those they know succeed. It's the part that realizes that this blog and journey is so much bigger than me or the 100 pounds I'm striving to lose.

Because my story is just part of a much larger story. It is but a snippet of a life. There is so much more to my story and to the story of the world. But I still have the chance to write my story down and to hit "publish" so that my story is available to the rest of the world.

And I hope you realize that your story is also part of a much larger story. And that you also have the chance to share you story - that you should share your story.

And I hope you also realize that it's not about how many people read. I fall into the trap of checking the statistics to see how many views my blog has received. And I measure my success in the number. But then, there's that one comment that stands out to me. A comment that states I inspired someone, and I remember that my little story needs to only reach one person to really matter.

(title from "don't forget me" by way out west)