Not terribly pleased with the scale this week, but it’s all my own doing. And it needs to stop.
I’m not doing a great job of taking care of myself. I’m grazing, and I don’t know if it is because I am letting stress make my food choices for me, or if it is because I am experiencing behavioral fatigue in the worst way at the worst time of year for it to be happening, or if I’m self-sabotaging, or what.
I’m grazing, and I don’t know if it is because I am letting stress make my food choices for me, or if it is because I am experiencing behavioral fatigue in the worst way at the worst time of year for it to be happening, or if I’m self-sabotaging, or what. Whatever the reason, I need to get back up on this horse and ride because the scale is creeping up ever so slightly, and I don’t like it. The longer I try at this weight loss game, the more frustrated I get that I can’t seem to get where I want to go. I want to quit and just settle for where I am because I look the best I’ve ever looked, I am the smallest I have ever been and for the most part I feel really good. It would be easy enough to settle for what is at this point.
But there’s a part of me that refuses to give up until I get to goal. It just feels like goal is further and further away, because well, with every pound I put back on, it IS. I’m feeling discouraged and disappointed in myself for even thinking about giving up. I don’t want to settle because it will feel like I’ve half-assed this whole thing, and my credo is “don’t do anything half-assed.”
But I’m tired. I’m tired of fighting this fight with myself. I’m tired of obsessing about what I eat and when I eat. I’m tired of obsessing about how I look and whether or not it is good enough. I’m tired of wondering do I look good? I’m tired of wondering am I working out enough? I’m super tired of wondering did I get enough protein today? I’m tired of thinking about having to go to the gym. I’m tired of forcing myself to be active. I’m tired of wondering if the exercise I’m doing is the right kind. I’m tired of wondering who in the hell I’m trying to please and whose approval besides mine I’m trying to get by doing all of this.
And I’m just plain tired.
Worst of all, I’m doubting my capacity for continuing to put in the work needed to get these last 43 pounds off. I’m starting to wonder if I have it in me to get to the finish line, because quite frankly, maintenance scares the ever living shit out of me. That dream weight looms large in my mind and I wonder if I have the gas to get to it. Most days lately I don’t think I do.
In other news…we did go out of town this weekend for my university’s Homecoming. I’m pretty sure that part of my gain this week is attributable to how I ate on the road and the salt content of what I ate. I did complete the Jameson 5k that I registered for back in August, and as per my orthopedic surgeon’s orders, I didn’t run. I walked it, and I was not happy about not being able to run. As I was making my way through the first mile of the course and I saw the runners pass me on their way back, I got a lump in my throat and a flash of jealousy that they were running and I that wasn’t. I nearly cried because I was so angry and frustrated that I could not run any part of the course at all. I wanted so badly to run and had to fight the urge I had to just take off because I knew that if I even attempted to run, I’d do more damage to my right knee than already existed. Not something I need getting ready to take off again this week out of town.
The silver lining here is that I was able to complete the course in a little over 58 minutes, which is nearly 20 minutes less than the time it took me to finish the last 5k I did back in March. And this was on two bum knees, so I think that’s an accomplishment. I don’t know that I’ll ever finish a 5k in 38 minutes because that would mean I could do a 12:30 mile, but perhaps it is something to aim for once my knees are both in good shape. I won’t lie, when I was climbing the hills on the course, I felt the places in my left knee where my surgeon told me I have no articular cartilage left–they burned as I was climbing and descending. And at those moments, I seriously considered taking a shortcut and finishing early. But I persisted on, and finished nearly last. But I finished which was really all that mattered to me. Today, I feel every one of those 3.1 miles. I am sore in places I didn’t know I could be, and I am hobbling around like I’m really twice my age.
Here is a comparison shot: me last year at this time versus me now. Pretty different, no?
This week’s challenge is traveling out of town for a conference. I’m packing my swimsuit and workout gear and have already set my alarm to get up at an ungodly hour to exercise each morning. I’m not going to let travel be the excuse for the scale creeping up next week–I’m really trying to stave it off and trying to be proactive about it.
I’m also trying to mentally prepare for seeing many colleagues that I have not seen in person since before my surgery. It will be like them seeing an entirely different person since they last saw me. So I will have to prep for how to respond and react to their reactions to the “new” me.
The biggest challenge will be getting over my own self-doubt about this process. I need to work on that, and fast. I don’t want it to wreck all that I’ve done so far.