There's Light at the End of the Tunnel
I have a relationship with food. Everyone does to some extent. For me food has been a source of comfort, a source of nourishment, and a source of entertainment. Food has been a hobby and a source of fuel. I don't know that my problem is addiction, even though I spent a stint trying to work through a 12 step program. I do sometimes eat alone, either out of necessity or boredom. Sometimes I eat things just to taste them, but I don't just taste them. I eat. Sometimes, I eat things, and before I know it, they're gone and I don't even remember eating them. Many times in my life, I have followed different programs, none for very long or at least not long enough. The problem is, there is no end when it comes to food. You can't just quit cold turkey like with alcohol or cigarettes. You have to eat.
I think that most people probably think of the word diet as a self imposed form of punishment and restriction. The restricting of one's intake, I mean. Another meaning of the word diet is the kinds of food that a person, animal, or community habitually eats. Now, that doesn't sound so bad. It's not threatening. It doesn't sound like a punishment. It doesn't sound like something so horrible that you can't wait to get to the end and go back to eating the things that you loved.
For the past few months, I have been getting down on myself. I have been feeling a little lost, feeling like a kind of failure. I weighed myself tonight, and, even though I'm still under 300, the pounds have been creeping back on. It's almost embarrassing. I've been avoiding my blog page because I'm afraid of the possibility that I may have to face the disappointment of people I know. I have, however, been wallowing in a proverbial sea of my own disappointment. I'm pretty adept at beating myself up and have been afraid that someone will present and try to be helpful and volunteer his or her services in assisting me in my auto-kickboxing adventure. I don't need the help.
Last year, I lost over 50 pounds. I was thrilled. I thought, "I've got this! This isn't so hard!" I don't think I was cocky about it, but what followed wasn't what I had expected or wanted. I stopped tracking my food. I stopped working out. I didn't train very well for my last two races. I didn't do very well, even though I finished. I didn't really spiral out of control, but I went back to old habits and the weight crept back on.
People have noticed. They still ask how the running is going. I've even gotten some messages of encouragement along the lines of, "You were doing so well, don't give up now!" Can I tell you something? This kind of help doesn't help. It actually only makes me feel worse and then I begin to feel hopeless. I really honestly have to do it on my own. I don't really like the encouragement, not that kind, anyway. I think I just have to do this for me. I want to. I almost just wrote that I want to get to the point where I feel like a normal person. The thing is, I feel normal now. I don't feel fat. I don't feel unhealthy. I feel loved. I feel blessed. I feel content. There is however the desire to do more. I want to do things I haven't done before. I still want to eventually do a marathon. I've signed up for a half in August. God willing, I'll complete it.
My running coach has been great. Her method is one that I am learning to embrace and trying to keep from being lazy with. You see, she doesn't do guilt trips. She figures, if I'm going to do something, I will. If I'm not going to do it, I won't. Either of those options is okay with her. The truth is, it should be. The only person I am punishing or benefiting is myself. Her greatest concern is that I don't injure myself in the case that I am going to pursue activity and fitness. I love this about her.
I weighed myself right around midnight last night and I started tracking again today. It's nearly a year since I started last year's running adventure. I know that I will get this done and I am not trying to do it in a certain time frame. Also, I don't need to weigh 125 pounds to be happy. BMI is a lie and a joke. It's not even accurate. I don't plan on getting down to a recommended weight. I plan on getting to a livable weight. I want to be able to do stuff and that's it. I am a beautiful woman no matter how much or how little I weigh. I have a loving husband, a fantastic family, and many wonderful friends who are there for me, supporting me no matter what it is I choose to do.
I enjoy weight lifting and now I know that I won't look like a tank just because right now I am a fat woman. I will need to figure out what my intake should be and I will not try to exist on 1200 calories a day. It is not enough. I need to find what works for me and what will continue to work for me for the long run, because this is not just a sprint. This is my marathon.
Today, a friend of mine on Facebook, who has lost 100 pounds and is keeping it off, wrote a beautiful post that really affected me. It took her five years to lose one hundred pounds. You know what? I've kept twenty pounds off that I lost last year, so, that would make me right on target. It didn't come on overnight and it won't come off overnight. I'm not on the Biggest Loser. I am living this life...MY life. I am not giving up.
I think that most people probably think of the word diet as a self imposed form of punishment and restriction. The restricting of one's intake, I mean. Another meaning of the word diet is the kinds of food that a person, animal, or community habitually eats. Now, that doesn't sound so bad. It's not threatening. It doesn't sound like a punishment. It doesn't sound like something so horrible that you can't wait to get to the end and go back to eating the things that you loved.
For the past few months, I have been getting down on myself. I have been feeling a little lost, feeling like a kind of failure. I weighed myself tonight, and, even though I'm still under 300, the pounds have been creeping back on. It's almost embarrassing. I've been avoiding my blog page because I'm afraid of the possibility that I may have to face the disappointment of people I know. I have, however, been wallowing in a proverbial sea of my own disappointment. I'm pretty adept at beating myself up and have been afraid that someone will present and try to be helpful and volunteer his or her services in assisting me in my auto-kickboxing adventure. I don't need the help.
Last year, I lost over 50 pounds. I was thrilled. I thought, "I've got this! This isn't so hard!" I don't think I was cocky about it, but what followed wasn't what I had expected or wanted. I stopped tracking my food. I stopped working out. I didn't train very well for my last two races. I didn't do very well, even though I finished. I didn't really spiral out of control, but I went back to old habits and the weight crept back on.
People have noticed. They still ask how the running is going. I've even gotten some messages of encouragement along the lines of, "You were doing so well, don't give up now!" Can I tell you something? This kind of help doesn't help. It actually only makes me feel worse and then I begin to feel hopeless. I really honestly have to do it on my own. I don't really like the encouragement, not that kind, anyway. I think I just have to do this for me. I want to. I almost just wrote that I want to get to the point where I feel like a normal person. The thing is, I feel normal now. I don't feel fat. I don't feel unhealthy. I feel loved. I feel blessed. I feel content. There is however the desire to do more. I want to do things I haven't done before. I still want to eventually do a marathon. I've signed up for a half in August. God willing, I'll complete it.
My running coach has been great. Her method is one that I am learning to embrace and trying to keep from being lazy with. You see, she doesn't do guilt trips. She figures, if I'm going to do something, I will. If I'm not going to do it, I won't. Either of those options is okay with her. The truth is, it should be. The only person I am punishing or benefiting is myself. Her greatest concern is that I don't injure myself in the case that I am going to pursue activity and fitness. I love this about her.
I weighed myself right around midnight last night and I started tracking again today. It's nearly a year since I started last year's running adventure. I know that I will get this done and I am not trying to do it in a certain time frame. Also, I don't need to weigh 125 pounds to be happy. BMI is a lie and a joke. It's not even accurate. I don't plan on getting down to a recommended weight. I plan on getting to a livable weight. I want to be able to do stuff and that's it. I am a beautiful woman no matter how much or how little I weigh. I have a loving husband, a fantastic family, and many wonderful friends who are there for me, supporting me no matter what it is I choose to do.
I enjoy weight lifting and now I know that I won't look like a tank just because right now I am a fat woman. I will need to figure out what my intake should be and I will not try to exist on 1200 calories a day. It is not enough. I need to find what works for me and what will continue to work for me for the long run, because this is not just a sprint. This is my marathon.
Today, a friend of mine on Facebook, who has lost 100 pounds and is keeping it off, wrote a beautiful post that really affected me. It took her five years to lose one hundred pounds. You know what? I've kept twenty pounds off that I lost last year, so, that would make me right on target. It didn't come on overnight and it won't come off overnight. I'm not on the Biggest Loser. I am living this life...MY life. I am not giving up.
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