Even though this blog has been around for about a week, my journey started long ago. I could go way back and detail the road that has brought me to this point. Some time I will– because I think that you, as readers, would benefit in knowing the events that have shaped me up until this point in life. However, this is not that post.
This post has to do with the mental aspect of weight loss. The battles of weight loss are not necessarily fought and won in the gym, but in the mind. You would think that continuing what I’m doing should be a breeze at this point. I’ve worked out consistently (5 days a week) for five weeks in a row. I’ve been told time and again that it only takes 21 days to make a habit, and I’m well past that point. Still, some days, it is a struggle to get out of bed and make it to the gym. It is a struggle to make it count once I get there. Those kind of struggles don’t happen as often as they did at the beginning. In a strange way, I enjoy getting up at 5 am and being done with a good, solid workout before some people have even started their day. Before I used to have started my day!
Despite all the victories, it is not always sunshine and rainbows. I think about how terribly far I have to go…How long it will take me to get there…maintaining it once I get there…and I become downhearted. I look at the long stretch of road winding out in the distance and don’t pay attention to the step that’s in front of me. When I’m not focused on the next step, I stumble, and end up plopping down on the side of the road crying, waiting for someone to come along and drop me a nice pan of brownies for consolation. Okay, not literally. I think you understand what I mean. For me, a major part of winning this battle is choosing to think on the right things, and not dwell on the enormity of the task at hand. That’s what I’m doing.
Here is a poem that I wrote about a year or so ago–I was 384 then, and having a great run of fitness–had exercised consistently for 6 weeks, and then just tweaked my knee a bit playing volleyball at a friend’s house. “I’ll give it a few days rest, ” I thought. That “few days” turned into a few weeks, which turned into a few months, and then ultimately, a year and three months!! I wrote this after a particularly good workout. Kind of like the one I had this morning.
“What’s that?” you ask. Well, I determined that I would do the eliptical for thirty minutes this morning–until now, I’ve done mostly 20 minutes, and 25 once (and I didn’t do that on purpose!). So I did. And then I got on the treadmill for ten minutes. That’s right, people. My 405 lb. butt on that elliptical for 30 minutes!! Nothing short of a miracle! I pray each morning that God would protect my joints, muscles, heart, and give me strength for the workout ahead. And He did. =)
What HOPE feels like
Sweat dripping off your nose
after 30 strong minutes on the elliptical
when you could barely do seven before.
The way your thigh muscles sporadically twitch
after multiple sets of squats.
The sweet, encompassing fatigue
that follows a thorough stretch.
This is what HOPE feels like.