My brother told me the other day that he wished he could get out and swim laps in the pool in his back yard every day.
Ohmahgah! If I had this pool I’d be out here at the crack of dawn with goggles and a paddle board! It’d be the most amazing workout! Or to be able to jog outside and come home and jump in the pool! Fully clothed EVEN! Oh it’d be so wonderful!
“You don’t understand Nessa- I just can’t get up and do it….”
I told him – “I totally understand.”
If you are new here (or just skip the running/weight loss posts – and if that’s the case – what are you doing reading this one?) I am on a quest. I began my journey with the goal of becoming a runner, being healthy and living a full life with a hobby that didn’t revolve around eating a dozen Kryspy Kreme Doughnuts.
I began in October of 2010. I started by walking on my treadmill in the afternoons. I was lucky if I could finish three miles.
I fought against the after work fatigue and my husband made dinner those nights and I ignored the screaming kids on the other side of the baby gate that gave me a tiny bit of privacy.
One day I decided if I wanted a good workout and to have a life I was going to have move my walks to the morning. I went to bed that night in my sports bra and workout clothes, I got up at 5:30 the next morning, stumbled down the stairs and climbed up on the treadmill.
I was still lucky to get three miles completed before I cramped up and died, but I did it.
And then one day I started getting up at 5:00, so I could spend more time on the treadmill.
And then one day – I walked four miles.
And then one day – I ran for a quarter of one of those miles.
And so on, and so on, and shoooby dooby do.
It’s been 10 months. I’ve lost 76 pounds. I now run at least two and a half miles straight, walk a mile, run another mile and then do a walk then cool down for the last three quarters of a mile for a total of 5.25 miles.
Every. Single. Weekday. Morning.
(And on some Saturday’s I do 7.8 miles so I can burn an extra 1,500 calories. You know. For Fun.)
I have two kids. An eight year old in 3rd grade and a three and a half year old at home. I work full time. Both my kids take Taekwondo classes, and I help out at their TKD school by working there two nights a week.
In order to get up at the ungodly hour of 5:00 A.M. my body requires I am in bed at 9:00 P.M.
I have, with out question, a life that is at least as busy ninety-nine percent of you.
If I can do this – YOU CAN DO THIS.
It’s not about some fad diet or an expensive gym membership. It’s not about expensive supplements or fancy pedometers. It’s not about personal trainers or programs or videos or. or. or.
It’s about a choice. Your choice – a hundred times a day.
Every time you choose to sit there and NOT DO SOMETHING you’re choosing. The choice to do nothing IS STILL A CHOICE.
It’s the choice I made a thousand times a day for two thousand some odd days.
I laid in bed at night and prayed to lose weight.
I planned for the possibility I would found a genie in a bottle (literally, I had a plan for when I found a magic lamp with a GENIE IN IT) how I would negotiate my wish to be thin with out the trickery that comes from genies. It involved lawyers and contracts.
I spent hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars on pills and prepackaged foods and SHIT I DID NOT NEED.
What I didn’t do was make the choice to actually do something. I cried and suffered in silence. I felt sorry for myself. I spent too much precious energy wishing and not a single bit doing.
The my husband cornered me one day and said, “I love you. I married you because I wanted to have a life with you. I don’t want you to die, I shouldn’t have to tell our daughters that you died because you didn’t do anything. It’s not about how you look, I think you’re beautiful no matter what, but it breaks my heart because it seems like you don’t care anymore. Like you don’t care about living.”
That speech changed my life.
That speech probably saved my life.
I didn’t care. I didn’t want to be fat – but I didn’t CARE.
That was the day I went home after work and got on the treadmill.
That was the day I made the choice to be better. To be a better example for my daughters, to teach them that healthy = strong. That you should love yourself enough to CARE about yourself.
I made my choice and then I turned it into a decision.
I decided that I would be a runner. If you want to be a runner, you have to run. So I run. To run well you need good fuel and you need to be strong, so at every meal I try to face each choice with reason and care and I try to make the best choice. I don’t always succeed. I love cheese burgers and doughnuts and Italian sausages and lasagna and cake. I know that these are not fuel for my body.
But oh my gawd. Can you imagine a life with out Oreo Fudge Brownies. Or Choco-chip S’mores cookies?
Nope. Nope. Nope.
But the fantastic thing about life – the absolutely mind blowingly amazing thing about life? You always have another opportunity to make a good choice the next time you are faced with one. Making a million-bajillion bad choices in the past has absolutely NO BEARING on how you choose the next time.
Start over. Do better. Forgive yourself and get over it.
I accept that I’ll never be skinny. I actually don’t ever really want to be skinny.
My mentality has actually shiftedfrom “I want to loose weight” to “Can you imagine how far I could run if I weren’t carrying these extra 50 pounds?”
I want to be healthy. I want to finish a marathon. I want my husband and kids to be proud of me.
I don’t really know what my message here today is… I want to let you know that I am not a health freak. I am not some “Thinspiration” obsessed calorie counting wanna-be anorexic.
I hate being hungry. I’ve learned to love humus as much as queso. I have learned to eat 12 grain whole wheat bread instead of white. I’ve learned to order fish or chicken instead of steak.
And I have learned that my choices make me who I am.
My choices are what got me fat.
My choices are what are making me strong.