Independence

This has been a good week, all things considered.  Very hectic...but good.  Monday and Tuesday, I was able to work out both days, with very good (but slightly scary) results:  my heart rate is still a small concern to me when I push myself, but I do know that a bit of pushing is necessary if I'm gonna build strength and stamina.  I feel fine when I do it...nothing out of the ordinary at all.  I just don't really like to see my heart rate climbing into the stratosphere now that I've turned 50.  It makes me uncomfortable.

Wednesday evening, my friend Tracy came in town to spend the weekend with us, so I knew that Wednesday through Sunday would be a bust.  That was ok, because I planned for it.  I know that this is not a derailment for me, it's a lifestyle, so tomorrow, I just get back on the treadmill after work, as usual, and I'll be back on schedule.  I'll also be weighing in in the morning, and I have to say that, although I don't expect a thing in the change department, it feels good to be getting back into a routine. 

It feels even better to not be weighed down by guilt because I didn't exercise every single day this week, or because I didn't eat perfectly.  A little goes a long way at this stage of the game, and I did make steps...not just on my short term goals, but also on my long-term independence from this God-awful addiction I have.  And that feels great.

Update and checking in...

Ok, so this past couple of weeks has been crazy.  Like, seriously crazy.  But I am very proud to report that the craziness did not deter me from actually getting on the stick for a change!  No, I did not start going to the gym last week on Monday, as I had intended.  But I did go on Tuesday, and did 30 minutes on the treadmill.  Unfortunately, I didn't have the forethought to bring my phone with me so I could take a pic of my workout summary.  It didn't even occur to me until after I'd worked out.  On Wednesday, though, I made a mental note, and after several tries, came up with this pic:

6/19 

The summary doesn't actually give all the details I'd like....like what my speed was, for example (3.5, if you're interested), but it is enough to actually calculate my distance and time, and I'm hoping I'll be able to see enough change over time in those categories that I can figure out the rest.   On Thursday, I increased my time, but kept my speed the same:

6/20

I also increased my time from 45 minutes to 55, with a 5 minute cool down.  Friday, we had plans, so I did not work out.  Neither did I work out over the weekend, but I did do a lot of work around the house, which had to count for something.

On Monday, I decided that I needed to start a record of my weigh-ins, so I dusted off the scale and took this:

Weigh-in 6/24

That was after a week of being good, so I'm not sure what my starting weight actually was.  Either way, I'm gonna go with this figure, and reset all my calculators to reflect that.  This is my new starting point.  And every Monday, I'll post another pic. 

Unfortunately, although I did work out on Monday, I forgot my phone.  Monday was important for another reason, though:  I figured out how to use the heart rate monitor on the treadmill.  And it scared me.  According to the chart on the treadmill, which I think is pretty accurate, (and also what I learned from Michael Thurmond) I should be working at 65% of my resting heart rate for fat burning, and 85% for cardio.  For my age bracket, that computes out to 110 and 136, respectively. 

At a speed of 3.5, I was hitting and hovering around 136....and sweating like a pig.  That really, really scared me that I had let myself get so out of shape...again....but the sweating part was very encouraging.  Usually, it takes me several weeks to start sweating, and I know that my body's breathing properly, and cooling itself off when I can sweat.  But that heart thing....

On Tuesday, I backed my speed down to 3.3, which seemed to keep my heart rate around the 110 mark, until the last 15 minutes or so, when it would get up to about 126 or so.  I just kept an eye on it and let it ride.  On the flip side, I did 60 minutes both days, with an abbreviated cool-down:


6/25

On Wednesday, more of the same, but a lot less cool-down.  Still maintaining a 3.3 speed:


6/26

But YESTERDAY....after almost two weeks of workouts, I INCREASED my speed to 3.5 again, and my heart rate stayed at 107-108 for almost the entire hour!  I also increased my cool-down to the max of 10 minutes, and walked my speed down to about 2.5 to burn as much as possible.  The timers will only go 60 minutes at a time, and a max of 10 minutes on the cool down so the most you can chart on one workout is 70 minutes.  But I was so PROUD of my heart!!!

Today being Friday,  I will not be working out, as we are headed to Atlanta for the weekend after work.  But I will hit the gym on Monday with renewed vigor. 



6/27



Perks

Wow....can't believe this past month has flown by so fast!  I've been so caught up in changing jobs (from contract worker to permanently employed) that I didn't even realize how long it's been.

One of the perks of my new job is that I now have access to a very nice employee fitness center...all state of the art equipment, and a nice locker room, complete with shower facilities, so I can even workout before work, if I need to. And the nicest thing for me personally is the row of gleaming heavy-duty treadmills just waiting for me to jump on 'em.  As heavy as I am, I need one that can take a pounding...a very important feature if I plan on running on them, and running I plan to do.

Lots of it.

My excuses of too hot, too cold, too wet, too snowy, too windy, too sunny, too___________ just ran out.  This place is indoors and climate controlled, so there is zero reason for me not to partake.

Oh. Did I mention it was free?  Yeah.  Free.  So no excuse about not having membership dues, either.  And it's pretty much open 24/7. So....looks like I'm screwed.  Guess I gotta get busy, now, huh? ;-)

On a related note, I've been struggling lately with the concept of being a runner.  I've heard it said, many times, in fact, that if you run, then you are a runner....doesn't matter how fast or how in shape you are.  But what about backsliders like me?  People who used to know the feel of the runner's high...but no longer do....and desperately want to?  Are we still considered runners?

Guess that was pretty heavily on my mind today when I got my gym key, because the Universe answered in the form of a glorious blog post from Run Junkees...you can read it here if you're interested, I highly recommend it. The part that really stuck out was this:

The best piece of advice I can give you is to always remind yourself of who you’re doing this for. Why do you run? Do you run for that person driving past you? Are you running for the guy running faster than you in a race? Are you running to impress “experienced runners”? I think once you start to be honest with yourself about why you run, you will have a much easier time dealing with all of the other negative thoughts that my seem to discourage you. 

Amen.  I'm taking this piece to heart, and I'm proud to say that no matter what manner of turtle I resemble, I  am a runner, dammit.  And I plan to stay one for a very long time to come.

Elvis is dead....and I don't feel so good, myself...

The name of Lewis Grizzard's classic has been ringing in my head ever since Monday morning, when I got a phone call from a detective in Georgia looking for next of kin for one Robert H---, deceased.  Considering the fact that he used a former name for me, I was pretty sure that it wasn't my son he was speaking of, but it still took me back for a second, and sent both my daughters (one of whom called me with the message, the other, I had already been on the phone with) into a tailspin.  No...as it turned out, it was, in fact, my ex-husband.  The father of my two oldest children.

Even as we speak, I am making a herculean effort not to break out into a song and dance (which speaks terribly of me as a person, I know), but this was one human being the world is much, much better off without.  He put me through hell, and that's nothing to what he did to my emotionally-scarred-for-life kids, and frankly, he deserves whatever he went through...which most likely wasn't nearly enough.  Appearances were that whatever happened was quick, but the results were really inconclusive.  The really sad, pathetic part is that he died alone, and nobody missed him....for a long time.

God, deliver me from living a life like that.

I digress.  The reason why Lewis' book title keeps playing through my head is because both my ex husbands are now deceased.  The first....my second....I was still married to.  It was the year I turned 40, and it was a real wake-up call to me to start taking care of myself.  The man was tall and lanky, and worked a physically demanding job, so he pretty much stayed in shape.  But he never ate right, and smoked like a freight train, and I lost him to a massive heart attack at the age of 51.

Now, the second (my first) is gone to an unknown cause which I can only surmise was also a heart attack (cause of death is undetermined).  And here I am, about to turn 50 in another week. 

Keith is my third marriage, and the man I plan on spending the rest of my life with.  We've both been through so much, and this is such a sweet time in our lives, when everything....everything...is finally going our way.  We have a beautiful home, great jobs, wonderful relationships with kids and grandkids....and our health.

Right now.

But I am still very much at an unhealthy weight.  And I am getting older by the day.  If I don't start actively working on being healthier every single day, odds are I will follow my exes into an untimely grave.  And I will leave my precious Keith to suffer the same fate that I did when I lost my dear Bill way, way too soon.

I don't mind telling you....that scares the shit out of me.

It's time.  It's time right now for me to get moving.  Before it's too late.

A Marathon Wake Up Call

Up. Down. High. Low. Jazzed. Blase.  Some days, I make myself dizzy by how wishy-washy I can be. 

I want to be fit. I want to be healthy. I want to recapture those days not-so-long ago when I could fly around the track...or around the hilly neighborhoods of my little town...or down Peachtree Street during the Bucket List race I'd been training so hard for.

I want to run again.

I always seem to be on the verge of getting started again.  Always at the start of another foray into the lifestyle that will get me there.  Never halfway through.  And certainly never close to the Finish Line of this race I have set for myself.

The Finish Line.  That hallowed ground that all people, whether runners or not, aspire to.  We all want to get there....we all want that feeling of accomplishment that comes with a job completed. It is the Mecca of all journeyers....whether they are runners, or not.

But to a runner....it is so, so much more.  The Finish Line is sacred.  It is Holy Ground.  It is not merely symbolic; it is a tangible, visible goal that we shed literal blood, sweat and tears for months and in some cases (certainly in Boston's) years to reach.  And no Finish Line is more holy, more symbolic, than the one in Boston.  The Boston Marathon is not simply entered.  It is earned.

Yesterday, that sacred symbol was tarnished.  Bloodied is probably a more apt adjective, considering the loss of life and limb, the wounding of so many on a physical level....and so many more on an emotional one.  Whether Bostonian or not...whether a runner or not....we grieve the loss of innocence that came with the detonations yesterday at that holy Mecca.  No longer will eager, cheering throngs easily gather at any sporting event, anywhere, to celebrate the triumph of the human spirit without the spectre of death and destruction looming over them. Aside from the loss of life, that may be the the greatest tragedy of all. 

And yet, that human spirit will triumph.  The looming spectre of possible disaster will not keep us at bay, it will not prevent us from striving to attain that goal, any more than it will keep those who cheer us on from turning out en masse to do so in the future, in person, at that very same Finish Line where yesterday's tragedy unfolded.  If anything, it will cause us to become even more determined; more dedicated to our sport, and ourselves;  more driven to prove to ourselves, and to the world that we will not be moved... not by the cowardice of terrorism.  Even so, we will never cease to move toward that Finish.

My prayers are for all of those in Boston; the families who lost loved ones, or are even now holding bedside vigils with the wounded, or helping them to recouperate.  For all those around the country and the world who were affected in any way by this stupid, senseless tragedy.  For all the runners who pound the pavement day in and day out with dreams of their own personal Mecca dancing in their heads...that they will never give up reaching for that Finish Line.  And for me....that this will serve as a desperately needed wake-up call. 

It is not too late. There is still time to feel the wind in my hair again and the pavement ticking away under my feet, and the song in my heart that lets me know that my own human spirit is still triumphant.

Getting back on the horse. Again.

I think my life is a series of 'back in the saddle' moments.  I guess it always will be, but the important thing, I'm finding, is that I am, indeed, ready, willing and able to do just that, regardless of how many times it becomes necessary.  What in the world has sidelined me THIS time, you might ask, as well you should.  Well...

     1. A monster virus that laid me out for two days...literally.  Didn't get out of bed, except to run to the bathroom.  It wasn't pretty. At. All.

     2. One day later...a monster cold that I'm still coughing and sneezing from, three weeks later.

     3. The months of March and April are the two busiest months of the year for me at work....BTTW busy.

     4. My youngest daughter moving back home from Missouri with two little ones in tow, who are all now firmly ensconsed in our camper, because...

     5. Even though it is still Renovation Central, we FINALLY moved into our new house!

We're not totally settled in yet, but at least, the power tools are up and out of the way, and we have some furniture now.  This alone is enough to make me do the Snoopy Dance.  But I think it's obvious why my stress level has been through the roof the past three weeks or so. 

The thing is this....

     1. I may have been sidelined for two days with a nasty virus, but it's gone, now.  Been gone, in fact.  I got this.

     2. I may have caught the Cold from Hell....but I'm pretty much over that, too.  And as long as I've got a kleenex in my pocket, it's all good.  I got this, too.

     3. I may still be busy at work, but the worst by far is over...so, I got this.

    4.  The kids are moved in, and a routine has been established.  This, I got.

     5.  In fact, my daughter is helping me tremendously with getting my house in order, and I couldn't ask for more on that count....so I got this, more than any other.

Which means I have effectively run out of excuses why I can't get myself in gear right now.

*sigh*  It's hell starting over, but I only have myself to blame.  Not my friends, family, work, lifestyle, wild nightlife, or the mating habits of indiginous fauna in the tropical rainforests of Ecuador. 

Only myself. 

Well, that, and my penchant for scarfing down every available edible thing in sight, if I give myself the slightest excuse to do so.  I dread getting on the scale on Saturday, but if I start tomorrow morning, it will give me three whole days' head start on what I'm sure will be a significant blow to the beautiful number at the top of this page.  Still....all forward motion counts, right? 

So here I go, yet again.  Don't wish me luck, though.  Wisdom is what is needed here.....that, and a whole lot of common sense.

Sickness

It's really bad to be sick. It's even worse when it's bad enough to sideline you.  In the past two weeks, I've gone through the world's worst 24-hour stomach virus, the cold from Hell, and a bout of indigestion/sour stomach/diarrhea that would have toppled Hercules himself.  Not sure if the last bit may have been caused by bad choices....but the first two were certainly out of my control. 

Regardless, as bad as it was to go through, it actually worked to my advantage, as I lost the ten pounds my indiscretionary eating had caused me to pack back on that last week before I got sick. And because I've been forced to eat a lot of soup and bland foods in the weeks since, I've managed to maintain that loss....thank God.

What I have not been able to maintain, however, is the progress I had made in my fitness goals.  It had been my intention to start back running on March 1st, but since I barely got to walk in February, it seems like a moot point at the moment.  I will have to reset that goal, and since I'm really hoping to start my walking back on Monday (along with the rest of the program), I'm thinking that maybe starting to run on April 1st may not be an unobtainable goal...or an unrealistic one.

I want to continue my walking, I'm not looking to replace it with running.  But eventually, I really do want to be running at a good pace at least three times a week. Ultimately, I still have the Eastman in my sights. But that is not until September, and I will not sign back up for that until I know I can do what I want/need to do to finish it correctly....and NOT in last place.

I do feel better.  And I do think this last couple of weeks have been necessary to recoup, since I rarely get sick.  I'm not sure that all of this wasn't just my body's way of trying to detox, since I was finally starting to eat so much cleaner.  But now that I've had a little break, it's time to get serious again, and go at least another six weeks before I break again.  With any luck at all, it'll be another 20 pounds down. And even if I have to whittle away six weeks at a time, I'm ok with that.  As long as I don't go backwards, I don't care how long it takes. I will get there.

Resolve

The past couple of weeks have been really, really tough for me. So many things going on around me...so much activity within the family have wreaked havoc with my carefully honed schedule.  First my oldest daughter comes to visit.  I did great for the first week...stayed on track with my eating and walking, but slipped on my workout.  That put me on the downhill slide, though, and before I knew it, I was eating just a bite of this, a bite of that....skipping my walk this night, then that. It's really terrifying how quickly it can all slip out of your grasp. Before you know it....you're right back into all the old patterns.

This week, I tried to get back into my groove, but the details have eluded me for one reason or another, so I'm still battling hard.  I did manage to get a 3-mile walk in yesterday, and that did amazing things for my morale, but I really need to do some cooking for myself so that I can start packing my food and eating on schedule again.  My metabolism is suffering, and I haven't been careful about what I eat. 

This past Saturday, I held my breath and stepped on the scale to an 8 pound gain.  Not sure what I expected, but really, I think I just wanted to see how much the damage was.  Watched my food all day, and was already down by 2 lbs by Sunday morning.  That was a bit more encouraging.  Both Sunday and Monday I kept promising myself all day that I would cook some fish up for my meals, but Sunday was spent nursing a migraine, and Monday was errand day...so no cooking.

Tonight, my youngest daughter arrives, with two grands in tow.  Not for a visit....but for good.  How that will play into my goals remains to be seen, but I do know that this will set my resolve one way or another.

Interesting word, resolve.  Webster defines it this way: 

transitive verb

 

1 obsolete : dissolve, melt

 

2 a : break up, separate ; also : to change by disintegration

  b : to reduce by analysis

  c : to distinguish between or make independently visible adjacent parts of

 d : to separate (a racemic compound or mixture) into the two components

 

3 : to cause resolution of (a pathological state)

 

4 a : to deal with successfully : clear up

   b : to find an answer to

   c : to make clear or understandable

   d : to find a mathematical solution of

   e : to split up (as a vector) into two or more components especially in assigned directions

 

5 : to reach a firm decision about

 

6 a : to declare or decide by a formal resolution and vote

   b : to change by resolution or formal vote

 

7 : to make (as voice parts) progress from dissonance to consonance

 

8 : to work out the resolution of (as a play)

 

intransitive verb

 

1 : to become separated into component parts; also : to become reduced by dissolving or analysis

 

2 : to form a resolution : determine

 

3 : consult, deliberate

 

4 : to progress from dissonance to consonance

 

I had always thought of it as meaning #4 or 5 above (transitive), but there are just as many meanings that have to do with breaking down, dissolving, reducing, disintegrating, separating, melting,becoming obsolete.

 

Wow. On so many levels....wow.

 

Am I referring to the breakdown of my desires...my goals...my dreams?  Or am I referring to the breakdown of all that is holding me back from achieving them?

 

I had thought I had 'solved' this issue before...oh, so many times before.  But all I keep doing is 're-solving' the same damned things....over and over and over, ad nauseum.

 

I don't ever EVER want to 're-solve' another part of this process, this journey that I have chosen.  I want to resolve it...for once and for all.

Week Seven Reckoning

 This week has been absolutely frought with challenges, and there's a part of me that really feels as though I have not risen to the challenges at all.  My oldest daughter has been visiting, and will be here for another few days, which has thrown my usual routine (or what has become my usual routine, anyway)  into a tailspin.  My regular eating has suffered, my workouts have become non-existant, not to mention my water intake, and a few no-no foods have even managed to creep back into my repertoire... something I had no intention of doing for quite some time, yet.  Still...through it all, I've managed to do enough to maintain.

I was so worried when I stepped back on the scale this morning, but was absolutely flabergasted to see that through all my screw-ups, even though I had let my body down by not doing the right thing, my body had not let ME down.  I've only gained .2 lbs this week, back up from 238.8 last week to 240.  Considering all the backsliding I did, I will take it allllll day, and say thanks in the process.

You can bet that I will be getting right back on the horse, though.  I have no intention of using Jes's visit to knock me completely back off the wagon...I have come too far.  My excuses are not going to cut it anymore, and I still have every intention of beginning to run come March 1st, regardless.  It will only make it harder on me if I slack on prepping for that by staying off the track now.  So.....back to work, it is!  Onward to next week!

Week Six Reckoning.

Well...it's been six weeks now, on this incredible journey, and I'm well on my way to my goal. I've already accomplished so much more than I had ever imagined, not in terms of weight loss (although certainly that way, too), but in the lessons I've learned and the level of understanding I've discovered about myself. It's really incredible to know that a journey of this magnitude can be taken up at any age or shape, and still be equally as incredible. And it IS the journey that is giving me so much joy this time. I have really found a joy in the process....to my great surprise.
I fought this week to hit the 20 lb. goal I had set for myself at the beginning of this journey.  As of my weigh-in last Saturday,  I had 2 1/2 lbs. to realize that goal....but to someone who is self-programmed to sabotage herself at every turn, it might as well be the distance to the moon.  
This week, despite all my struggles, I was determined to hit 240.6, if it killed me in the process.

Picture me squealing like a little girl this morning, seeing 238.8 on that scale.
21.8 lbs.?? Really??
 
Oh, my God...I can actually do this. I AM doing it....every single day.

Ups and Downs

This has been an odd week.  Can't really say it's been bad, exactly....because it hasn't.  But I can't exactly call it good, either.  Although I've pretty much stayed on track with my food, I can't say I haven't come dangerously close to wavering a few times.  I've worked really hard in those times to toughen my resolve and power through it.  I have to say, all things considered, that I'm really pretty proud of that. In the past, it's been those times when I would give in....just a bite....and then the whole thing....and then I might as well just eat what I want today....and then the day becomes the week...etc.  And it would all end up in self-loathing because I can't stick to anything, and I'm a dismal failure, and I hate my life, and I hate myself for being so damned weak.  And I would find myself for the millionth time shouting, "For the love of God, somebody stop this sickening roller coaster, already!  I. Want. To. Get. Off.  NOW."

But...see....that 'somebody' I was always talking to was me. It had to be...who else CAN do it?  And the answer to that, of course, is no one.

So....we had a big pot-luck breakfast at work yesterday.  Too many breakfast goodies to count, and the break room is still loaded down, as we speak.  Too many things to count....eggs, bacon, sausage, biscuits and gravy, breakfast casserole, hashbrown casserole, blueberry biscuits with icing, donuts, muffins, two kinds of cake, even.  I brought a fruit salad (which was hardly touched among all the glorious empty caloried feast), but since I had already eaten my breakfast, I sat with my coffee, and enjoyed the company, feeling pretty powerful.  It was later that the old desires started creeping in....that need to sample, to pinch, to savor.  To not miss out on life.   I managed (thankfully) to stave off all but one pinch of dried-out blueberry biscuit yesterday, but that yearning came back with such a vengeance this morning, that I was actually chewing a huge mouthful of leftover dried-out blueberry biscuit before I even realized what I had done.  The guilt and disappointment that washed over me was almost enough to drive me to tears. I had just wrecked all my hard work....and my six-week weigh in ( and picture taking) was only two days away!!!

Then I had an epiphany.  I was in control of this. I could choose to be defeated in that moment, or I could choose to win.  It wasn't too late to salvage all my hard-won efforts....I didn't have to accept that I had put unhealthy fuel, something not good for me, into my body.  I hadn't swallowed yet! 

I wasted no time heading for the bathroom and divesting that wad of mush into a paper towel, which promptly rung the trash can for a 3-pointer.  I felt more in control in that moment, than I have all week.  I finally freaking won. And knowing that, I can fight the next battle just that much more confidently.  And I will win that one too.  It may not always be pretty....I may lose a bit of ground here and there.  But I refuse to throw in the towel on myself any more.  I deserve better than that.

As far as my workouts go....Monday was a snow day, and I never left home....so I did play hookey there.  Tuesday, I walked, and my pace starting out more than made up for Monday. I was excited to see that I had improved from an almost 19 min/mile pace to a 16 min/mile pace....that is HUGE.  I've actually run laps slower than that....although it pains me to admit it.  But it does serve to remind me just how far I've come in the past six weeks.  Unfortunately, I pulled a muscle two miles in, and had to stop. My fault...I didn't warm up properly. Lesson learned.  Wednesday went better...although slower....and I did my entire hour, but only managed a little over 3 miles.  No workout Thursday...I had to go to Knoxville after work to pick up my darling eldest daughter from the bus station....looking forward to lots of great walks with her in the next couple of weeks while she's here.  Today is a workout day...but I'm planning on sneaking in a walk before heading home this afternoon.

So....yeah....a very 'meh' week, all things considered. Great victories, lots of lessons learned, some not-so-shining moments, and a couple of triumphs mixed in.  No matter what the scale shows on Saturday morning, I will be ok with my progress this week. You see, the truth is....with all its ups and downs, this is pretty much going to be a typical week for me in the long run.  And since I'm in it for the long run, I guess I'd better just go ahead and get used to it.

Week Five Reckoning....and weekend wrap-up.

As rocky as this week started out, I think it pretty much ended up on a good note.  Friday afternoon, I worked hard to get out of work on time.  And after running the necessary (evil) errands, I scooted home, kicked everyone out, and did my Day 1 workout.  Gawd, it felt so good.  And after working so hard all week, I was more than ready to recoup with a good weigh-in on Saturday morning.  I was not disappointed....another 2.6 gone, for a total of 17.5 down, and I weighed in at 243, officially.  So...I was on a roll.

Saturday was spent on the road to go spend the day with our oldest grandsons, and I made sure to get up early and pack all my food for the day, so I wouldn't have any excuses.  I was glad I did...the weather turned horrible, and we got back much later than we'd planned.  About four hours after my last meal, I found myself needing to make a choice whether to tough it out and wait another two or three hours to get home for my last meal...or to try to stop and find something I could eat.  I chose as wisely as I could....turkey jerkey at a truck stop.  I honestly don't think I could have done much better, given the selection I had to choose from.

 Sunday morning, I slept in a bit, but got up early enough to be able to cook my protein for the next few days before we headed to town for a while.  I did not take food with me, although the weather is still bad here (icy roads), and was starving by the time we got home.  Of course, today being Superbowl Sunday, the guys had to load up on munchies for the game, and I found myself needing to sample a bite of this dip, a morsel of that wing...and finally had to force myself to stop before I had done too much damage. 

Still...sitting here, with a jar of spinach dip and a bag of Tostitos within easy reach is almost stretching me to the limits of my endurance.  They say the more you work at it, the easier it gets.  I certainly hope so, cuz this ain't fun.  I do know that I need to learn how to take a bite of 'real' food here and there without it tanking all my progress, and I feel like baby steps are the best way to get there. I will not get derailed because I ate two chips...I will not. I'm in this for the long haul...and that will last way beyond any football game.

Frustration...and forgiveness.

How many times have my frustrations gotten the better of me? Countless, I'm sure. This week has been absolutely fraught with them, mainly due to the weather, but also with time constrictions. How do I cram all this...this...stuff...into my day? Either it's errands..or weather...or stuff Keith wants me to do at the last minute. Go here...do that...pick this up...drop these off. I'm about ready to pull my hair out! And like a cherry on top of it all sits my self-inflicted anxiety and guilt that I just. can't. do. it. all.

This week's break room offerings. Again...I did not partake.

Despite my best efforts to recoup last week's failed workout attempts, I have not done it. There has simply been no time. By the time I leave work, go walk for the alloted hour, do all my errands, go pick up Keith and head home, it's been 7:30 before I could get home. Then there's dinner to get, dishes to wash, food to pack or cook for the next day, and correspondence/bills/emails to catch up on, all before my 9:00pm bedtime. IF I'm lucky, I don't get to bed too terribly late. Most nights this week, I haven't been lucky.

Which means I wake up tired and cranky, without energy, dragging, slow, hungry, weak....the list goes on. And every afternoon, I feel that frustration level shooting through the roof that I can't get home any freaking earlier. There is just no time for these workouts....not without sacrificing my walk time...and I can't do that. It's just too important to skip.

So, where does that leave me? Last week I swore to myself that I would do whatever it took to make up that workout so that I could get back on track tomorrow. But considering that today is Thursday, that's just not gonna happen. The way I look at it, I have two options: either I can go postal, go on strike, go straight home, throw a fit, throw everyone out of my house and do both Day 1 AND Day 2 tonight without walking, but still feel guilty for A) not walking today and B) overworking my body, thus negating tomorrow's workout, or I can let go of the guilt and frustration, let go of my crazy, control-freak behavior, throw out all my negative self-talk and throw myself behind all the amazing accomplishments I've made this week!

• I've eaten CLEAN...and stayed completely on track.
• I've walked...every single day. And I've increased my pace without increasing my heart rate, which means I'm that much closer to being able to start running again.
• I've gotten hooked into some great apps that will help me track my progress, some of which are displayed on my page. This will help me stay accountable to myself...I do love gadgets.
• I've signed up for a February walking challenge on Endomondo! This will be my first 'official' challenge, but I'm hoping it won't be my last! I'd love to have something to work on each month...but we'll see how this one goes, first.

And most importantly...I've realized that I am not on a timetable for losing weight, getting in shape, or getting healthy. This is a lifelong path I'm on, and the only end date is my demise...in my sleep...of natural causes...at a very old age. My journey is not timed, and as long as I am creating forward motion, I'm doing well. So what if I am two weeks behind on my workouts? In the grand scheme of things, what's two weeks, when I've got a lifetime to work on me? Far more important to love myself throughout the process...and to be good and kind to myself, as well.

Are you frustrated with your routine or something else in your life? Can you forgive yourself for not being perfect...not doing things perfectly? Do yourself a favor....show yourself some mercy, let it go, and breathe.

Week Four Reckoning...and lessons learned.

So much to process from this week. So much to think about, and so many lessons learned.  This week was absolutely fraught with stumbling blocks....some I successfully navigated, and some I didn't.  What it taught me was that I am not nearly as far along in my journey as I would like to believe that I am, but at the same time, I am taking pains to notice when I am stumbling so that I can pick my feet up higher next time I see that same stone. Apparently, she can be taught.

In the past ten days, we have had not one, but two major ice events in our area.  Snow is not unusual in the Appalachian mountains...in fact, it's even welcome.  Ice is not welcome anywhere. Growing up in Atlanta, you learn that if there is snow on the ground, there is always, always ice underneath it. (Translation: do not drive on snow.  Snow = bad.)  This is why the entire city shuts down if there is an inch of snow on the ground...sometimes less.  It took me two full years of living in the mountains to get it through my head that not all snow is bad...in fact, most snow is fairly easy to navigate, if you're cautious and use your head.  So, as much as it no longer bothers me to drive in snow, it only takes one little slushie storm to make that old terror rear it's ugly, icy head.  For two Fridays in a row, now, it has succeeded in putting me off my game.  Not only did I not work out either day (which means no Day 1 workout), I also skipped a meal from leaving work early to avoid the worst of the traffic. 

Skipping meals is worse than skipping a workout for me. Seriously. Why?  Well, because my body is used to having food incoming on a regular basis...it's what keeps my metabolic fire stoked, and keeps the fat burning.  If I don't eat, it signals my body to start tamping that fire, juuuust in case there is no food forthcoming anytime soon.  When I exercise, I'm getting EXTRA fat burned....but without that fire being stoked, it is not nearly as effective.  So....I need to EAT.  Every three hours, without fail.

So, this Friday ice thing set off a chain reaction both weekends, in which I did not work out (I'll wait to do my workout tomorrow), because the 'guys were in the way' (really??).  Consequently...no workouts, either weekend.  And not being prepared food-wise made me miss several meals over the course of those weekends, as well.

But the worst?  By far, the worst of it was that I took a bite of food that was not on my plan.

This may not seem like such a big deal...not by a long shot.  But neither does taking a sip of alcohol seem like a big deal...unless you're a recovering alcoholic.  When you're trying to eat clean with the purpose of fueling your body to run more efficiently, and then you take a bite of savory, delectable roast beef....it causes a downhill slide that may mean the total destruction of your plan, and the complete derailment of all your good intentions.  Until I get to a point in this journey that I am stronger than the food I put in my mouth, I need to avoid these temptations at all costs.  It's not the bite....it's what it leads to.

In my case, that bite of crockpot roast beef turned into a bowl of roast beef (far more than the two ounces I should have eaten, IF I were even supposed to be eating it in the first place), complete with carrots and potatoes.  Then two bites of homemade soup the next night, followed by snacking on several slices of processed sandwich ham, the next day...and a meal eaten out at the mexican restaurant.  And the cold weather kept me drinking cup after cup of coffee to the severe detriment of my daily water allotment.

Those are all the negatives.  But...you see my point.  One little pebble is all it takes to create an avalanche.  But there are postives to be found in all of this, as well.  Lessons learned, if you will:

1)  Yes, I missed my workouts. BUT....I have plans to recoup at least THIS week, by adding Day 1 this afternoon, along with my regular walk, and Day 2 on Wednesday, the same way. That will allow one day between them, and then I can still start my regularly scheduled Day 1 on Friday...which will effectively put me back on track, with only one week's workout missing. Doubling up on activity is not fun. Nor is it something I want to do on a regular basis.  Or ever again, for that matter. Also, even though I didn't work out this weekend, I did manage to get some activity in both days, which I am very happy about.  Wouldn't actually call it cardio...but I MOVED.  And that counts. Toward what, I'm not sure...but it beats hell out of vegetating on the couch, eating ho-hos.

2)  Yes, I ate off my plan.  BUT I did not BINGE, and I did not SNEAK, and that is a HUGE improvement over the past.  I tried to make the healthiest choices I could, with what I had to work with.  Yes, there is room for improvement, no doubt.  But I refuse to beat myself up over it.  My crime had way more to do with not eating nearly enough on the weekends than it had to do with the quality of what I did eat.  And my choices could have easily...easily been much, much worse.  So...I have seen improvement here!

3) Yes, I didn't get all my water in.  BUT, I didn't fall back on other drinks, either...other than coffee, I mean.  And I got plenty of that.

4) Yes, I ate out, which I Am. Not. Ready. For.  On any level.  BUT, I chose carefully and tried to be responsible with my choice.  I ordered a taco salad (in the shell), sans cheese and sour cream, and used fresh salsa as my dressing. I should have asked for no beans, because they are not in my plan right now...but I didn't.  Thankfully, there weren't many in there...but I have to say that I did enjoy every mouthful...along with the soggy, bean-covered bottom of the bowl. AND, I did not cave to the temptation of eating the sides as well.  Also, I held myself to 1 (one!!!) chip, as I waited for the food, which I broke into small pieces and dipped into fresh salsa, savoring each delectable bite of its chunky goodness.  I am unbelievably proud of that!  I also drank water, while the guys partook of frosty beverages...another huge score for my willpower...which just goes to show me how far I actually have come in this journey.

Could I have done better this week? Undoubtedly.  But was it a disaster, as I would have myself believe?  Pshaw...of course not!  And the scale proved that when I stepped up on Saturday morning.  Even with all my fox paws this week, I still registered 245.6...a .4 loss, bringing my ACTUAL total loss to 15 pounds even, instead of rounded. 

Hey...a negative number is still forward progress.  And that, by God, counts.

Weekend Wrap-up

This was a weird and wonderful weekend, chock full of twists and turns, and many, many learning experiences, which I am doing my best to absorb.  After Friday's snow day, I still had a good weigh-in on Saturday, which I pretty much expected.  I am really beginning to feel a difference in my clothes.  Saturday morning, however, I had started out doing some things around the house while waiting on friends to arrive from out of town.  When I saw that time was getting close, I stopped to get my workout in, which had been pre-empted the night before, feeling pretty confident that I would be able to get my day 2 workout done on Monday, and not be off my schedule but by one day...not too bad, really.

I was into my second exercise in the set, when Keith (who was working outside frantically trying to shore up a collapsed retaining wall...all the rain, don'tcha know) came in and asked me to stop.  An emergency trip to town to pick up much-needed tools from the shop forced me to throw in the towel.  I don't feel bad on this one, because there was truly no alternative....but I did feel frustrated at being preempted two days in a row, especially knowing that I would not have an opportunity to do anything on Sunday.  This meant that I would be off my schedule by half a week, almost....truly frustrating.

So, I headed to the in-laws, armed with my food for the day, and wound up doing fairly well on food.  The homemade lasagna that everyone else had didn't even particularly bother me, and it really helped that my family seems to understand and honor what I'm doing; no one made an attempt to force a plate onto me, thank God, and seemed genuinely interested in what I was doing and why (mechanically speaking, lol). 

Sunday, I realized that I didn't have enough fish cooked for the entire day.  This was bad, but I figured I could probably find something to eat at the in-laws' without having to cook right then, so I packed up what I had, and headed out.  After a bit of shopping, my friends stopped by Dunkin Donuts to pick up some coffee, and wound up bringing back a box of donut holes, which were promptly pounced on by everyone at the house.  They went over so well, in fact, that my friends went BACK to DD and scored another large box of holes and a dozen chocolate iced, chocolate glazed, chocolate  filled, chocolate sprinkled donuts to go with it.  The good news? Didn't bother me a bit. I sat there, blissfully sipping my black coffee, thanking God that I was free of that chain...for now, at least. I'm under no illusions that the monster won't ever rear its ugly head again.  But at that point in time, all I could think of was how nauseating the smell was, and how many empty calories were being shoveled in that room. Ugh! The bad news, however, was that I had to 'settle' for some of my mother-in-law's wonderful baked ham for my protein....(honey glazed...I did my best to trim that part off, but it was still a bit sweet), and I missed my dinner.

Monday, I wound up at home, with no transportation, since the guys had both left to go to work.  And I had no protein cooked.  What was worse: I had left all my lettuce and salad veggies at the in-laws' house (I actually thought I'd left it in the car...horrors!), which effectively strangled my eating for the day.  I ended up nibbling on a smoked trout (LOADED with sodium!) and a bag of frozen brussels sprouts....and again, missing my dinner.  This morning showed the damage: almost 2 lbs up on the scale.  I know it's just water weight, and that I'll be able to flush it, no problem....but it's a hard way to learn.  I did get the rest of my day 1 workout in, though...finally.

My lessons from this weekend:

Be prepared. Always.  Keep ahead of the game with an adequately stocked fridge and an action plan.

Don't let time slip away.  Get the workout in...then do everything else...even if you think you have plenty of time.  You may not.

Never, ever,  EVER skip a meal. Ever. No matter what excuse you give yourself.

Keep away from smoked anything.

So....a resounding success?  Nope.  But you don't learn much from resounding successes...except that you're on the right track.  This weekend has taught me that I'm still in this thing, despite all the little frustrations and minor setbacks.  And even if I wound up gaining 1.8 lbs for the week...it wouldn't deter me, because I'm in this for the long haul...and that's what counts.

Week Three Reckoning

 I have to say that this week has been the toughest one yet... not in terms of cheating, or even temptation. I'm pretty strong on that, right now (although I know the day's coming when I will be tested there, it hasn't happened yet, at least). No... my week has been challenged in terms of weather.  And laziness, I think, has a lot to do with even that.  Thursday, it began to snow. Not that unusual in the mountains, granted. But this snow was wet, heavy, and sticking to the roads.  And all this on the heels of three days of driving, flood-invoking rain.  Not a good mix... and being from Atlanta, I am terrified of driving on ice. 

My usual habit in the afternoons is to either walk at work for an hour (weather permitting), or go to the mall and walk there, if the weather is bad.  I've been very proud of the fact that I haven't missed a day in the past three weeks, other than taking a much-needed rest day last weekend.  But Thursday, as I looked out my window, I knew if I didn't go directly home...I wasn't liable to get there.  So I turned tail, and drove hard, sliding all the way.  Consequently, by the time I got home, I was relieved to have gotten there, but found myself in a royal funk at the same time, because I had messed up my perfect record.  And since I had delayed my mid-afternoon snack until I got home, I wasn't hungry at all at dinner time (and no exercise had just fueled that), so I did a HUGE no-no, and skipped it because I was so tired.

 

Friday was a snow day, and I stayed home all day in my sweats, catching up on emails and odds and ends on the computer.  I ate well, even though I was home, which I'm very proud of, but yesterday was also my workout day, and I skipped it.  Yep....that's where the REAL guilt came into play.  And this is what has me worried.  You see... I had planned to wait until after my mid-afternoon snack, as per usual, to do them.  But then Irb, who was also home yesterday, came over and set up camp right in the middle of my exercise area (the only one I have at the moment).  Instead of giving him the boot, I let him.  And on top of not getting in my Day 1, I also skipped my supper.  Again.  For two nights in a row. Bad, bad, bad girl.  Honestly, I was amazed that the scale registered a four pound loss this week, and while I am very proud that it did (I'm now down to 246), I am also left wondering how much more I might have lost, had I gotten my exercise and food in that I should have. 

 

Now, I am left with trying to start over again.  I know that these weeks will come, and that I need to use them as lessons to learn acceptance, which I am severely lacking in, on BOTH ends of the spectrum.  But I also have no intention of letting this little stumbling block curtail my forward motion. I will continue as I mean to go on.  And even if I stumble, I will succeed this time.

Temptation

Chips, cookies, York Peppermint Patties...and one donut left.

There is a co-worker (actually several) who gains sadistic pleasure in bringing in goodies for the rest of us to indulge far too much in.  On Thursdays, he is in the habit of frequenting the local donut establishment, and comes into the office bearing gifts that he leaves in the breakroom.  Although I'm much more of a potato/mac and cheese girl, I do love the occasional empty calorie just as much as the next fatty.  And in the past two years that I've been here, I've indulged in far more than my fair share.  Most notably, in the bathroom.  Away from prying eyes.  Like most fatties...I prefer to scarf in private, where nobody can witness my sins but me.

The problem, of course, is that I can't hide it from me.  Nor can I hide it from the rest of the world, as the evidence resides on my hips (and thighs....and stomach....you get my drift).  They may not know it's a donut, but they know it's the result of way too many calories in/ not enough calories out.

The restart of my journey has put an end to that.  It is far more appealing to me not to put a black mark on my so-far-perfect record, than it is to scarf down an empty 500 calorie donut (which invariably leads to binging on them), and have to live with the fact that I marred my streak (probably in a HUGE way).  And I'm very, very proud of that streak.  It's got me where I am right now....three weeks away from the start line, 11+ pounds closer to my goal, and nowhere near falling off the wagon.  I feel strong this time....superman strong.  And after so many years of feeling weak and worthless, that feels pretty damned good.

So, Mr. Temptation can kiss my rapidly shrinking ass....cuz this big girl's not tempted any more.  It just ain't worth it.

Week Two Reckoning

Yesterday, I really angsted over that can of tuna. I guzzled water like it was my job, and worked out extra hard yesterday (meaning with extra concentration).  Last night, I had a nice piece of fish and two cups of fresh green beans, seasoned with no-sodium beef bouillon.  But I really, really worried about the effect that damned sodium had on my system.  I was happy with the four pound loss the scale registered yesterday morning...it showed a nice pay-off for all my hard work this week.  And, although I didn't expect to see any MORE of a loss, I was scared to death of losing any of that hard-earned ground I'd gained over the past six days.

So...it was with trepidation that I mounted the scale this morning. Imagine my shock when I read the results:  250.0.  Wow. I had to do it twice, just to make sure I'd read it right...but the second time fluctuated between 249.8 and 250 before settling on the larger number, so I took it and RAN.  OMG!!! A five pound loss!! ON WEEK TWO!!!  Holy cow.

To say that I'm proud of myself is an understatement....I'm freaking overjoyed.  In the past two weeks, I've dropped a total of 10.6 pounds....and am well on my way.

Now...I'm left with the question 'why'?  What was it that caused me to lose another pound and a half yesterday?  What did I do differently?

• Yesterday was my exercise day...I did no walking (not that amounted to anything, anyway...just the usual).
• I ate plain light tuna that wasn't low-sodium (VERY salty to my palate now, btw).
• I got in a significant amount more water than I've been drinking...and I've been doing pretty good.
• I ate a little more than usual for dinner.
• How should I say this...?  My excretory system worked very well yesterday.

Now...normally, I wouldn't even mention that last, but in all fairness, it must be noted that I have noticed a marked decline in that department in the last two weeks.  I can only contribute that to the lack of excess that I am putting into my body now. Whereas before, I was eating so much more than my body could handle (hence, multiple daily trips to the bathroom), now, my body is using what I give it for fuel, and calling on reserves, so there is much, much less to eliminate now.  Consequently, I find I am going several days in between visits.

That being said, I doubt seriously if that alone could account for a 1 1/2 pound weight loss (heaven help me!), but it certainly contributed. I think more than anything, it just offset whatever I might have gained as a result of eating the tuna.  No....I think if I'm honest, it's a mixture between drinking more water, and eating just a tad more.  Honestly, I think I may have been shorting myself of the protein for the past several days, and eating a bit more at each meal is probably a very necessary thing. I don't mean  a LOT, mind....we're only talking an ounce or so.  But that adds up. 

This week, I plan on doubling my water efforts, and adding an ounce or so of protein to my meals.  It should be interesting to see the results on the scale next Saturday.

Choices.

It seems that I'm starting to realize the choices that I'm surrounded by on a daily basis....some, very small...granted, but some also much larger.  And with that comes the realization that regardless of the choice I am faced with, I need to make it...and then OWN that choice, regardless of the outcome.  It's called responsibility, and it comes with maturity. Or so I'm told, anyway.

Last week, my big choice was whether to take advantage of the little opportunities I am given to exercise on a daily basis, or pass them up in favor of the 'easier' route...easier being a relative term, since there ain't nothin' easy about being overweight and unhealthy.  But this week, I've not really seen much in the way of a new choice, althought I've actually been on the lookout for them.  Now...by 'choice', I don't mean the 'what am I gonna wear today' kind, I actually mean one that impacts my health.  But last night, I was finally faced with one.

Last night, we had dinner with the in-laws, and I was very proud to have had the foresight to prepare my own dinner, along with the rest of my food yesterday, to take with me so that I didn't have to rely on unknowns.  I'm very glad I did; it turned out to be a very pleasant meal (although laden with all the salt, sugar, and fat that after two weeks my body is now used to doing without and doesn't miss, thank God!), and I was able to feel totally sated with my little meal, and very content that what I had done was to combat the sabotage that inevitably creeps in during times like this.  I didn't miss a thing...and was extremely happy and pleased with myself.

Back-patting over, we headed home, but it was late when we got there, and I was exhausted. Making my meals is a night-time chore, for sure, because I'm just not moving fast enough in the mornings to get 'er done. But last night, it was bad, because I was confronted with a fridge lacking in already-prepped protein to add to my meals. I'd just eaten the last piece of my pre-cooked fish at dinner, and although I had an entire package of chicken tenderloins ready to grill up, my body was waving the white flag, big time. 

Enter my choice:  Do I deny my body the rest it craves, grill up that huge package of chicken, and lose a MINIMUM of an hour's precious sleep?  Or do I settle for using my last two cans of tuna, which I've been holding for emergencies, since they are NOT low sodium...KNOWING that Saturday morning is a weigh-in day and my body's gonna freak over all that sodium that I've been fiendishly trying to flush out of my system for the past two weeks?

The tuna won out.  I was that freakin' tired.  But I made that choice CONSCIOUSLY, knowing the impact it might have on my body, and after weighing the odds, I still felt that it was the best choice for my health at that moment.  This morning, before I ate anything, I got on the scale and weighed, even though it's not actually official until tomorrow...another choice....because I want to see exactly HOW that sodium will affect my body, if at all.  The result of my weigh-in:  251.6...an impressive number that brings my total to 9 pounds so far, over the past two weeks....IF it holds...and lays to rest my fears of the dreaded Week 2 Curse.

I will not log this number into my total, I did it for comparison purposes only.  But I've been drinking water like crazy today, hoping my body doesn't decide to retain too much of the sodium...and the water that goes with it.  I'll post the results of my experiment tomorrow....but either way, up or down, it's my choice....my responsibly made choice....that got me there. And that's ok with me.

Descending.

When I moved to the mountains four years ago, I was in much better shape than I currently am, and much more active outdoors.  I did a lot of hiking and exploring in the evenings and on weekends...something I was not privy to in Atlanta...and I found that I loved it! In fact, one of the things that I'm most looking forward to is to get back to that level of fitness where I can feel comfortable venturing out again for extended (and sometimes challenging) periods of time. I truly love being in the outdoors.
But, I'm naturally a klutz, and over the years, I have come to embrace that fact.  Consequently, I am very careful about my footing when I hike, knowing that one wrong placement can send me crashing to the ground, or into the underbrush, over rocks and through trees, or worse: sliding pell-mell down a ravine...a truth I have learned the hard way more than once.  It's worse...much worse...going downhill than it is going up; I learned that lesson early on in my ramblings. Going uphill, I have much more control over where I place my feet, and can make sure I have a good purchase before I gamble placing my weight on that little tentative foothold. Going up, there is solidness in front of my face; I know exactly what I'm dealing with. I feel much more secure in my environment.
Going down is a different matter. There is nothing in front of me but air; nothing to grab onto to steady myself.  Every step I take is a potential minefield, especially if there is loose dirt or gravel involved. If my foot starts moving unexpectedly, I don't have enough of a sense of balance to right myself, or to save myself from getting hurt badly. To someone as balance-challenged as I am, it's terrifying.

This morning, I saw this status posting on my facebook feed, and it really spoke to me:

Life As The Fat Friend Blog

If you want to get from the top of the mountain to the bottom of the valley, you don't jump off a cliff. You find a path and you take the arduous steps to get where you want to go.

How do you lose a large amount of weight? One small change at a time.

...and suddenly, it all clicked for me.  No wonder I had such a hard time last time I lost this weight!  I was going downhill!  That same terror that strikes my heart everytime I have to navigate a steep slope was before me again....except, not being in familiar territory, I wasn't able to recognize it.  And instead of proceeding cautiously and watching my footing, I dug my heels in, and backed away from the edge. After all...going uphill is SO much easier!

The more I think on this concept, the more profound it actually gets.  I think I will probably be chewing on this little tidbit for quite a while....I want to make sure it really, really sinks in.  It doesn't matter how long it takes for me to get down the hill...it only matters that I do, and that I am careful in the process, so I don't hurt myself. And I will make it down...as long as I watch my footing.

Weekend Wrap-up

I was really fortunate this weekend, in some respects, because the weather, although chilly, turned out to be quite nice.  Much nicer than originally anticipated, in fact.  That was a nice bonus, since we had planned to spend the day with our two oldest grandsons.  Knowing that I would be traveling, I planned accordingly (SO proud of that!) and took all my food for the day.  Since I had already done my day 1 workout on Friday night, I planned on Saturday being a free day (even though I didn't really want one), and then I would do my day 2 workout on Sunday afternoon.

As things turned out, we actually had time on our hands Saturday afternoon, and the boys suggested we go hiking on the town's river walk.  I was overjoyed, because I've been on this particular walk, and 1) it's beautiful and interesting, 2) it is perfect for what I needed...a walk on level ground), and 3) allowed me to sneak in my workout and still hang out with the boys...so I wouldn't need the 'day off' after all!  Color me happy on that, so we started off with a bang, and got an even bigger treat when we all discovered that the trail had been expanded, and was almost doubled in length. 

All in all, I got a nice hour and a half walk in, with time enough to explore cool things with the boys, too.  The bad part was that Poppy got sick and couldn't be a part of the day, but Rick and I had a great time, came back home very contented with the days activity, and armed with a plan to go back down in a month.

Sunday was pretty much spent doing odd chores, but I did get my workout in Sunday afternoon, and so for me, the weekend was a success.  I'm very happy with my progress so far, and very happy that I was able to stay on course for the entire weekend, work around whatever issues I came against without straying from my plan.  I say my plan, because it IS *MY PLAN*, not someone else's that I'm trying to adhere to.  I love that. And I love the fact that I am finally accepting that I am in control of me....not anyone else.  If I rise or fall, it's me that's calling the shots, so just like I have no one but myself to blame if I fail, I also have no one else to praise but myself when I succeed.  That is something that I can totally own.