300. I’ve been traveling on the road to health and single-digit sizes for exactly 300 days. The only reason I know that is because my LilySlim weight tracker told me so. Is there such thing as a #300daychip? If there were, I’d kinda sorta qualify for one. The weight loss blogosphere is a big one, and I’ve gotten to know quite a few other women and men like me, going through similar ups and downs, lapses in judgment, jumping for joy at what may seem like the smallest of victories.
Other than the couple years between my first attempt to lose weight and my current one, I can’t say that I’ve fallen off the wagon for longer than one of these 300 days. Come to think of it, I probably haven’t gone an entire day without at least attempting to stay on track. Sure, there are days here and there where I’ll conveniently forget to track a big meal, but on the whole I’ve been quite disciplined with my regimen. I realize this is starting to come off as bragging, but, well… okay, maybe I am bragging a little bit. Bragging that I’m a maniacal control freak that, once I’m focused on something, my resolve cannot be derailed.
I strongly believe that having lost 70 pounds 3-4 years ago and gaining it all back and more is what keeps me on track. I knew what it was like to lose a lot of weight. To feel good about what I’ve accomplished. To feel like I’m finally within reach of my goal. Only to see it all come crashing down with only myself to blame. Of course no one wants to see the weight they’ve lost come back, but I really, truly, deeply, with every fiber of my being, do not want to feel that sort of failure ever again.
95. Ninety-five pounds lost in those 300 days. You don’t ever realize how difficult it is to lug yourself around when you’re heavy, as demonstrated in the recurring “Carry Your Weight” challenges on The Biggest Loser. I got to experience a fraction of this the other day when I picked up Bowie to weigh him. Obviously I don’t have a giant pallet type scale, so I had to weigh myself, then pick him up, get back on the scale and mark the difference. Bowie is 60lbs of pure muscle, and I got a hell of a workout lifting him up for just a few seconds. He wasn’t even wriggling or thrashing about like he usually does when I try to carry him. It made me sick, thinking of what I was doing to my joints and heart lugging around weight 35lbs heavier than that.
20. If you told me 300 days ago that I’d be able to jog nonstop for 20 minutes, I’d ask you to pass that shit you’re smoking. Remember, just a few months ago I was struggling to jog across the street. Sure, I was jogging for 20 minutes at a snail’s pace (4MPH) but I meant to go slowly so that I’d at least finish the entire interval without stopping or wanting to die. Couch 2 5K isn’t about sprinting, it’s about building up your endurance in a speed at which you’re comfortable. My short little legs have no chance of making me the next Usain Bolt, and I’m totally okay with that.
As I mentioned, this past week was a tough one, mentally, but I survived. I survived 300 days of healthy living. I survived through losing a third of myself. And I survived jogging for 20 minutes straight, the longest I’ve ever continuously jogged in my entire life.
To anyone who reads this blog looking for inspiration, I’d like to apologize first of all. But I do hope that you can take something from anything I’ve written above and use it to drive you. To keep you on track. And to remind you that there are so many of us going through the same thing, and we could never do it alone.