Drinking the Kool-Aid

I'm starting to feel like I understand why people enjoy working out, and it's kinda freaking me out. I thought it was seriously so fucking stupid when people would talk about how they love running, or how they miss it if they skip their workouts. I would roll my eyes when people would gush about the adrenaline rush of a good sweat, and felt real pity at the thought of these poor schmucks wasting their time at the gym. It seemed like telling people you like working out is the equivalent of saying you just can't stop getting an A+ on every test even though you never study. Like, shut up, fuck you, no one wants to hear about how perfect you are, jackass.

But...like...god this sounds so lame but I am LOVING walking or hiking every day! I'm logging more Activity Points in a day now than I was in entire week a year ago! I feel awesome when I'm sweaty and sore and tired but still pushing myself up stairs or over a hill!

In other words, I totally drank the exercise Kool-Aid.

To be clear, I was doing just fine losing weight on Weight Watchers without working out. In fact, I lost pretty much all of the weight I've lost (around 85 of the 95 pounds total) without working out AT ALL...literally barely moving. Go read my old blog posts, I was seriously a sloth. I've only lost around 10 pounds in the past 6 months--the time since my heart surgery, which is consequently the only time I've had the ability to be physically active. But even though I've only lost 10 pounds, I feel completely incredible. I'm walking faster, harder, stronger, longer. I'm dragging my girlfriend on several mile long hikes almost every night. I'm finding new ways to be active. I'm starting to plan our hikes the day in advance so I have something to look forward to.

I mean, instead of ordering pizza and watching a movie on Friday night, we go hiking and then go wander around outdoor art installations. On normally boring weeknights, we decide to meet after work for a long walk through town to go eat, then walk back to burn off our meals. For Mother's Day, we had a super healthy picnic and then took my girlfriend's family on a 3 mile hike around the art center. I NEVER would have agreed to that before, and I certainly wouldn't have suggested it! Yesterday, I joined the Garden Club at work and spent 2 hours literally shoveling shit, and instead of being miserable I just kept thinking about what an awesome workout it was. Today I'm so stiff and sore but instead of being annoyed, I'm proud and happy about it.

Living an active life is still pretty weird. I feel restless when I go a day or two without walking, and I'm even starting to get impatient with how slowly everyone else walks. Every now and then I get a burst of energy and feel like making a mad dash down the trail. Sometimes I actually do it.

I didn't think this would ever happen to me, but the more in shape I get, the more I want to get in shape.

It's honestly pretty awesome. Plus, it's earning me extra Activity Points so I can eat more, which is extra awesome. I hope I can sustain this level of activity...but I don't think that will really be a problem. My biggest real concern right now is whether or not my girlfriend will be able to keep up with me :)

Celebrating Success

I was so proud of myself last year when I had lost 95 pounds. I just knew 100 pounds was only a week away, and my next Weight Watchers goal weight was 199, which was totally achievable with fewer than 10 pounds to go.

I don't know if I've ever been more proud of myself.

But now...well, now I'm struggling just to stay under 220 pounds. I'm ashamed. I've been riding that awful roller coaster since September. A few pounds up, a few pounds down, more pounds up, more pounds down. I weighed in at 214 last week, which would be exciting if I hadn't gotten down lower than that MONTHS ago. 

And now my doctor put me on Zoloft, which is notorious for weight gain. I fully expect to gain 15 or more pounds, which will be devastating to me. I feel like that will make me more depressed and anxious...so, like, what's the point of the Zoloft then?

But I'm still going. I'm still eating right and weighing in. And more amazingly (to me), I'm going on long walks and hikes every chance I get. It's hard to remember my life before my heart surgery in August. I can't believe that less than a year ago, I struggled to walk to the mailbox. Now I'm going on 4 mile hikes and feeling absolutely awesome afterwards. 

So maybe I'm not losing weight. Yeah, if fucking sucks. But I am STILL PROUD of myself. Maybe not for losing weight, but because I am living an active life for the first time in so long. 

That's still something to celebrate. 

Hoppy Weedster

So Easter and 4:20 fell on the same day this year.

Awesome?

NO.

I was so excited when I first saw that 4/20 (April 20th, or the official pothead holiday for the uninitiated) fell on a weekend. I always, ALWAYS take the day off work because, well, I can't really get my shit done when I'm assembling a gravity bong at my desk. So I was thrilled that I was going to avoid using PTO this year.

It wasn't until a week or so ago that I realized it was ALSO Easter. Fuck! My family is down with smoking (I actually buy from my aunt…awkward but I know she won't rip me off ha) but my girlfriend's family is very conservative. We convinced them to have Easter on the 19th so we wouldn't have to cut into our high times, so that was good.

But Sunday morning, after we had a great Wake N Bake and then opened up the Easter baskets we made for each other, the true implications of Weedster started to sink in. Namely: I would be stoned around MASS quantities of food ALL DAY.

If I wasn't on Weight Watchers, this would have been an awesome day.

On Weight Watchers, it became 24 hours of torture.

I mean, I was high and hungry at midnight. And then at 4:20am. And then when we woke up smoking at like 9am. And then again over and over all freakin day.

I was responsible for desserts at my parents' Easter gathering, so I made "Dirty Turtles" to share, which is just melted Hershey bars poured into my turtle molds with a bunch of very finely ground pot (almost a powder, thanks to my electric coffee grinder used solely for weed edibles) and topped with ground walnuts to distract from any pot crunchies. My family loved them, but I may have loved them a little TOO much because I definitely ate 5 of them. Whoops.

Then I got my Easter basket from my mom. Yes, I am 32 and get two Easter baskets still. It's awesome.

But even though my mom tried to be supportive by adding apples and oranges to my basket, I dug those out and went straight for the Snickers, Cadbury Cream Eggs, jelly beans, and all the other sugar packed in there.

THEN I gorged myself at dinner. I mean, like, I think I sprained my wrist with the weight of the mac-n-cheese casserole serving I gave myself. Plus candied yams, green bean casserole (with tons of extra cheese), yeast rolls, mashed potatoes, corn, broccoli cheese casserole, banana pudding, chocolate eclair cake, salted caramel chocolate pie…it was seriously a smorgasbord orgasbord. It was bad. I tried to count the points but I know I missed some stuff, and I still went over my points by at least 20 this week.

The silver lining is this: when I left my parents' house, my girlfriend and I drove out to a state park and had a completely amazing 4 mile hike. It was super strenuous--like, we climbed UP a waterfall, we had to climb ladders, we lost count after climbing more than 200 stairs…it was so hard but totally worth it. Plus, we got to get high down in the bottoms of canyons and crevices, so that rocked.

As ashamed as I was about eating so much for Easter (even worse than usual, thanks to having major munchies ALL DAY), I was really proud of myself for hiking afterward. I know I still gained weight, but at least I got a head start in working it off. I even earned 14 Activity Points to make up for some of the Points I went over.

It was a pretty good Weedster after all.

A this Easter vs. me last Easter. (Note: My lumpier-than-usual stomach is due in part of my ultra-hip fanny pack…totally worth it.) And I had already lost quite a bit of weight before last Easter. I’d hate to see myself Easter 2012…

Literally Always Hungry

I am never not hungry.

I can eat a full and balanced and even hearty meal, lean back complaining how stuffed I am, and then literally begin thinking about dessert while still swallowing my last bite of food.

I know I've talked about this before but I guess I just wanted to confirm that nothing's changed. I haven't lost weight and suddenly, magically stopped thinking about food every second of the day. I've lost weight in spite of constantly obsessing about eating, but it hasn't gotten easier.

I do what I'm supposed to. I drink enough water to be certain it's not dehydration. I make sure I eat enough protein and fiber to keep me full. I eat good sized portions, I do the whole stop-rest-assess Weight Watchers thing to avoid over-stuffing myself while making sure I'm actually full, and I try my best to stay somewhat busy and keep my mind off food. Somehow, though, I still have food on the brain 24/7.

There's this dumb Buzzfeed quiz, Should You Have A Snack? It's more of a joke quiz, but I've been trying to make myself take it when I start thinking about dessert while chewing the last of my meal. The sole question is, "When did you last eat?" The first option is "10 minutes ago" (although it's usually only been like 2 minutes since I ate when I take the stupid quiz) and it answers, "In a little while." Which is a really nice way of saying, "You seriously JUST ATE, you fat fucking idiot, don't stuff your face when supper isn't even down your esophagus!"

Even when I take the quiz and know I shouldn't eat, I find myself craving something sweet the second I'm done eating. I think about food while I'm still consuming other food. I plan my meals for the next day (and usually pre-track) so I have something to look forward to and so I can go to bed happy.

Right now I'm stoked for work tomorrow because I have awesome roasted veggie and black bean burger leftovers waiting in the fridge. Then I have zucchini feta galette planned for supper...yum. And tomorrow morning when I'm struggling to find a reason to get out of bed (I've been open about my issues with depression and some days it really doesn't seem worth it to even wake up), I'll remind myself of the delicious lunch and supper ahead and I'll force myself up.

I think about food all during work. I can't concentrate when there are cookies or cupcakes nearby. When I think about my vacations, I find myself remembering the meals. If someone is passing out candy, I almost pass out from the anticipation waiting to see if I'll get any and, if so, what. I look forward to holidays primarily for the food.

So when people comment on my weight and ask me how I've done it or if it's been easy or what my secret is, I laugh and say, "Well, I am literally always hungry.' I say it as though I'm joking, but I'm dead serious. I'm hungry right this minute. A year and a half of hunger and deprivation could be torture and maybe it'll eventually send me over the edge, but for now it's worth it.

Why?

Because I'm enjoying life. Because I'm coming more alive with every tulip that pushes up in my garden. Because I'm going to wear tank tops and shorts without feeling like an elephant on parade (Disney reference!). And because today, it was nice out so we took a ride in the convertible with the top down and I didn't feel self conscious, then we went to the park and flew kites which required running through a field and I didn't feel like a hippo lumbering through the grass, then I played at the playground with my nephew without worrying I'd crush the equipment, and now I'm going to bed happy and slightly hungry but good-tired. I'll wake up hungry and probably sore, but I'll take that any day over the life I was living at 300 pounds.

Yeah, I'm hungry ALL the time. But you know what? I don't feel fat all the time, and that makes all the difference to me.

Spring Forward

It's been another long week of wintry weather.

I can hardly bear it.

It's been dreary and rainy, but I suppose I should be grateful it's rain and not snow. It still sucks.

Today we're heading out to the park. It's supposed to be in the mid-50s which sounds like a heatwave after this hard winter. We're even bringing the dogs to let them get out into the sunshine, despite the recent rains which I'm sure turned our trails into muddy Slip-n-Slides.

I'm looking forward to earning some Activity Points to make up for Friday's Italian restaurant pesto and mozzarella ravioli gorge-fest. And there are tiny tips of plants and flowers starting to emerge from the mud so, even though the weather sucks, I do know that spring really must be coming eventually.

I've been spending time at the cemetery a lot because it's so peaceful and the paved roads make it easy to walk even when it's muddy, and we go walking anytime the sun is out and it's at least 50 degrees. It's still not really springy, but I know we're getting closer. And closer to spring means closer to summer, my favorite season.

One thing (of the many millions) that's making me eager for warm weather is the garden club I joined at work. On Friday I went to the first meeting and now I'm so pumped. We have a big raised-bed garden at work, and for $25 you pitch in with planting, weeding, and watering, and in return you get ALL THE VEGETABLES YOU WANT!!! Amazing, no?!

We're planting all kinds of awesome stuff. Potatoes, corn, lettuce, carrots, eggplant, zucchini, bell peppers, hot peppers, cucumbers, berries, tomatoes, herbs, kale, squash, gourds, a ton more I can't remember, and maybe even grapes. I can't wait to be able to fill a basket with delicious, fresh, pesticide-free veggies...and I'm also looking forward to having an excuse to go out to the garden and spend a few minutes in the sunshine every day at work. Exciting!

I always wanted to join the Garden Club before, but I knew with my bad heart that I couldn't commit, and I didn't want my plants to die because I was unable to walk out there. Now that my heart is strong and good, I know I'll be able to help out and I will literally reap the benefits (terrible pun, shame on me).

We're planting the garden the first weekend after Mother's Day, and I can't wait. Summer can't get here fast enough.

Until then, at least I have the park to enjoy.

Playtime

It feels so good to be able to play again.

I mean, really play.

To chase after my dogs and dash around the yard with their toys. To burst into activity and wind up giggling and flushed and breathless. To race my nephew to the playground at the drive-in without being embarrassed that everyone will be watching the fat girl flounder.

These are things I've missed without even realizing it. As my world begins its slow thaw after a desperately long and hard winter, I'm getting out more and testing the limits of my new heart valve.

On Friday after work, the temperature actually reached 60 so we took the convertible (with the top down!) to the park and hiked around places that I've only ever seen from inside a car. We hiked for 4 miles, passed through a bird sanctuary where the songs of dozens of species joined together in a rich cacophony, walked around the rim of a still-frozen lake where the ice was so thin you could see water rippling below the surface, and at one point broke through the trees to find an unexpected merry-go-round rusting at the edge of a picnic area.

I had thought merry-go-rounds were banned from playgrounds years ago, so I was excited enough to see it that I didn't care who saw ME. I sprinted to the contraption, threw myself in the middle, and held on as my girlfriend grabbed the bars and started spinning. A year or so ago, this wouldn't have happened. First, I wouldn't have even seen the merry-go-round because there's no way I would have been hiking. With 95 extra pounds and a heart valve that was almost completely grown shut, I wouldn't have even been at the park. I would have been home on the couch, enjoying the warmer weather through the window. And if I somehow was near a merry-go-round, there's just no way I would have gotten on. I would have been afraid of breaking it, afraid my girlfriend would be unable to spin it because of my size, and terrified that people would see me and whisper among themselves at the spectacle the fat girl was making of herself.

Being able to run to the playground and play without fear or shame was an experience I really can't describe to most people because they wouldn't understand. I felt joy. That's hard to put into words, but I felt free and happy and normal.

Normal.

Amazing.

100 Mile March…Or My Own Version

My workplace is always trying to be healthier (we have a great fitness center and trainer, free Weight Watchers,  quarterly gift cards for healthy habits, only diet sodas in the vending machines, etc.). It's pretty awesome actually. So this year they're promoting the 100 Mile March again. The idea is just to commit to walking 100 miles over the course of the month of March.

Last year, since I had lost a good amount of weight (like 55 pounds) by March and I felt pretty good, I decided to try it.

It was a dismal failure.

I walked every day for the first week. Seven days. My total distance walked? 1.5 miles. That's over a period of seven days COMBINED.

I was so disappointed.

I really did try, but I could only walk two minutes at a time before having an asthma attack and feeling like I was going to vomit.

I had no idea at the time that I was actually suffering from severe cardiac asthma and that my heart valve had grown shut and I was basically a walking heart failure bomb. I didn't find that out until June, and then had heart surgery in August to fix it. But in March, all I knew was that I sucked. That I couldn't even walk, even after losing so much weight.

It was seriously depressing.

So this year, to ramp up slowly and avoid such devastating failure, I'm making my own March. I'm doing a 30 Mile March.

30 Mile March?

Totally doable.

It's the 13th and I've logged right around 12 miles, so I'm perfectly on track. Between my Jawbone UP and my Map My Workout app, I'm doing a good job of getting extra steps in, along with taking short but trackable walks, like trekking a couple blocks with my employees for lunch, or walking around a cemetery while I wait for my girlfriend to get off work.

Even though the weather still sucks, we managed to take a great hike every day Friday through Monday last weekend. Sure, the trails were basically bogs and we had to slog and slide through six inches or more of mud in some places, but it was awesome to be outside DOING something.

I can't recall ever being in the woods before spring or summer. It's been cool to see the green moss peeking out from beneath the melting snow, and to see the trails without the curtains of leaves. The woods feel so open and bare without leaves. I kind of like it.

So I may not be confident enough for a 100 Mile March yet, but I'll do 30 miles. I'm ready for that at least. And I walked farther the first day this year than I did the entire first week last year.

That's progress!

Overcoming My Cabin Fever

This winter SUCKS.
 

I hate the winter. I mean, it's okay for about a month. During Christmas. After that, I totally hate it. I swear every year that it will be my last winter somewhere cold, and I vow to pick up my life and flee to the warm sand of the tropics, but then every fall I find myself still in the fucking cold and facing a winter of agony.
 

This year has been worse than any I can remember. It's so fucking cold, and there's snow EVERYWHERE. It's been snowing and snowing, and then it's not melting because it's so fucking cold, and then it snows some more on top of it. I hate it. I hate it every year, but this year is even worse because...well, because I actually feel good and I want to get out and do stuff.
 

This fall was wonderful. It was warm late into the fall, and my recovery from heart surgery was going awesome. I had lost 80 pounds, gotten a new heart valve, and I was able to go on evening strolls and walk the dogs around the park and go for a day long hike for the first time in YEARS. This fall was probably the most active I've ever been, at least in my entire adult life.

 So now I feel completely trapped by the cold and the snow. For Christmas, I got an annual membership for free entry into any of our state parks, and I can't wait to go hit the trails. I even have a new walking stick I can't wait to try out! But right now, I'm stuck inside.
 

I was reading The Year of the Phoenix and she wrote about her Jawbone UP, which I thought sounded cool. With my tax return check burning a hole in my pocket, I bought one (sadly, I bought the Jawbone UP24 right before I discovered that it was not compatible with Android, so I had to cancel that and get the older UP which doesn't have wireless connectivity).
 

I was hoping the Jawbone UP would help inspire me to move a little more in the house at least, in a small effort to combat my Seasonal Affective Disorder and keep myself active. I've only been wearing it for a little over 24 hours, but I've walked around the house more in the past day than I did the previous week! Seriously, it's so fun to see my daily steps increase each time I sync my band. So I've been adding more and more steps just to see my numbers rise. Like, carrying a few things at a time from the pantry to the counter, instead of loading up my arms to only make one trip. And I'm the one offering to get up to bring us drinks. And I paced around the bathroom while I brushed my teeth. Just little tiny things to get a few more steps, things that I normally wouldn't do. I like it so far!
 

 

Oh, I've also signed up for a glassblowing class for tomorrow! And for my birthday this week, we're driving a few hours south to get out of the cold. It's supposed to be around 20 degrees warmer down there, so we're going to a cabin with the dogs and booking a few cave tours, along with a horseback ride. I haven't ridden a horse for 10 years. The last time I did, I was 250 pounds and they took one look at me and led my dainty horse away and returned with the biggest horse I've ever seen. They told me it was "sturdier." I was humiliated. This time, they asked on the phone if either of us were over 250 pounds, and it felt awesome to say, "Nope!"
 

Between the Jawbone UP, tomorrow's glassblowing adventure, and the spelunking and horseback riding this week, I think I'll manage to make it through at least a few more days of winter.
 

If it snows again, though, I can't be held responsible for my actions.

Snowpocalypse

If you're like half the country right now, you've probably been snowed in for days. And if you're like me, you've spent the past few days alternating between gorging yourself on all the food in the house and desperately attempting to ignore all of the food in the house.

Although I've given in a few times (WHY did my girlfriend buy Nutty Bars?! They are so fucking deliciously irresistible!) I've managed to steer clear of the really bad shit and stuff my face with grapes, cherry tomatoes, wasabi peas, and lots and lots of tea.

My sweet tooth has been acting up, though, so I decided to recreate my childhood snow day favorite: snow ice cream! This time, I made it Weight Watchers-friendly and it was oh so good!

I sent my girlfriend out for a big bowl of snow (I was not about to go out in the -15 mess) and I mixed it with stevia, skim milk, and vanilla. I ended up putting in two tablespoons of granulated sugar to cover the slightly bitter aftertaste of the stevia, and it was SO FUCKING GOOD. Why can't they make something like this in the stores? I mean, that bowl made a really huge amount of snow ice cream, so when I divided the sugar by the amount of servings (around four, although there was a little extra that we didn't eat) I didn't even have to count it as a single point. Why isn't there zero point ice cream?! Someone should invent it. Please?

Anyway, I can't wait for it to warm back up a little so I can play in the snow. Last Saturday, after our first snowfall but before the dreaded 'polar vortex' and the 10 extra inches, we went sledding with my eight year old nephew. I haven't been able to sled since before my first heart surgery six years ago--I never ever would have made it back up the hill. This time, with my healthy new heart valve and 90 fewer pounds, I kept sledding and sledding! I even raced him up the hill a few times. I'm covered in bruises, it feels like I compacted my spine, my chest and neck are sore, and I think I almost got frostbite on my fingertips, but I had SO much fun! Plus, I was able to count it as 15 Activity Points! Turns out sledding is pretty fucking physical (well, sledding is one thing, but climbing the hill over and over is the hard part).

This is the first time in so long that I've been able to actually enjoy the snow, and it's awesome! Now I'm just waiting for 'normal' winter temps and I'll grab my sled and head back to the hill to burn some calories and earn some more bruises.

Back On Track

After several weeks of exceeding my Weight Watchers Points (like, by 50 Points! That's like just eating an entire pie, with toppings!) I finally managed to stay mostly within my allotment for the week. Okay, to be honest, I counted two hours of walking yesterday just so I wouldn't go over, even though my 'walking' was really taking an extremely slow shuffling tour of a Masonic temple with some elderly people, one of whom was wearing a prosthetic leg, so I probably shouldn't have counted this as exercise. But anyway, I stayed close to my Points and it paid off.

Down 3.2 pounds this week! That brings me to 208.8 pounds, down 95.2 from 304 pounds. Slowly but surely, right? I'm getting pretty close to losing 100 pounds, which is pretty awesome for me. Also, while I was at weigh-in, I saw someone who I haven't seen in a year or so and she was amazed at how much I've lost. It's so incredible to have people tell me how great I look! That's something you just don't hear much when you're over 300 pounds.

So even though I'm sitting here with a half-eaten plate of Christmas cookies on my desk, I still feel like I'm back on track. I'm trimming back, counting the Points of everything I eat, and trying to stick to my daily Weight Watchers goals. It's not easy with so much holiday cheer being passed around in the form of calorie-laden treats, but I'm getting much better at saying NO. "No, thanks! That looks great but I'm on Weight Watchers." It was embarrassing last year. Really, at close to 300 pounds (I was making some progress by Christmas last year) I felt like people were laughing at me when I said I was on a diet. I could almost hear them thinking "Sure, this bitch is dieting! I bet she steals cookies when our backs are turned and eats them in the bathroom." But now that I can see so much progress, I feel a little proud to tell people I'm sticking with Weight Watchers and passing on the treats.

I still eat what I want, but my Planned Indulgences list is working wonders for me. I still plan to splurge on some eggnog, one of those Hershey Kiss cookies, a Christmas Snickers when I get my stocking, and the full meal on Christmas Day. But knowing that I'm going to eat that delicious shit soon makes it SO much easier to say "No, thanks!" to the sugar cookies, chocolate covered pretzels, and candied nuts I see every day now.

I'm still hoping to lose a few more pounds before the end of the year, mostly because my work gives us gift cards if we work out enough or lose enough weight to earn one. I'm close but not quite there, and I could really use a $50 Target shopping spree!

As long as Christmas doesn't derail my Weight Watchers train, I should be down a few pounds by New Year's!

Let's Get Physical

I'm feeling pretty confident about tomorrow's weigh-in. I've eaten right all week, cut out those dreaded Fiber One bars, and I'm recovered pretty thoroughly from that plateau. Stupid fucking plateau. I don't want to get my hopes up too much, but today after work I weighed myself (okay, I hadn't had any water all day so maybe I was dehydrated, but still) and the scale said 242.8!

SERIOUSLY!

That's a weight loss of more than 60 pounds from my starting weight of 304! Again, I don't want to get my hopes up...but I'm pretty sure I'll be down at least 3 pounds this week, which is going to put me right around the 60 pound mark. Not quite to my next mini-goal of 240 but pretty damn close!

We'll see what happens at weigh-in tomorrow. But the odds appear to be in my favor!

Plus, I made a pretty remarkable accomplishment this week. I worked out. TWICE. I know, I know, most people do that, like, every day. But I haven't REALLY worked out since..well...probably since before my open heart surgery, which was over 5 years ago now. This wasn't anything strenuous--just this yoga/pilates combo dvd that I used to do all the time in college. I used to love getting stoned and listening to the British chick speak in such calming tones, telling me to keep my abs strong and breathe into my poses.

Turns out that it's still really fun and relaxing!

But I was so incredibly sore afterward. I felt like someone shoved me down a mountain and I hit every rock on the way down. Sitting on the toilet hurts. Coughing hurts. Putting on my shoes hurts. But it's a good pain! I haven't had workout pain for a long time! It's making me feel stronger, which is helping me feel even better about myself. It's like I keep looking in the mirror and seeing the girl I used to be. I don't see the sloppy matron in baggy pants and a cardigan--I see the hot vixen again. I feel like I'm getting my spark back.

I'm basically at the weight that I was all through college--a few more months and I might actually be smaller than I was in college. What a miracle that would be.

One Foot In Front Of The Other

It really doesn't look like my 100 Mile March is going to get anywhere close to 100 miles.

I've walked every day so far since March 1...and I just barely made it to 1 mile. One single mile.

That's 1 mile TOTAL.

In four days.

Walking every day.

I SUCK!

Okay, I was really sick all last week and stayed home from work for two days and whatever I had moved into my lungs and now I'm coughing up wicked phlegm and can't breathe.

Plus, I haven't walked in forever. I haven't been on a treadmill since before my open heart surgery, losing an entire functioning valve, and decreasing my lung capacity by around 50%.

And, you know, I'm actually pretty proud that I've walked every day so far. Even though I've felt like shit. And even though the treadmill is set on 2 miles per hour and I can only walk for 2 minutes before stopping to hit my inhaler. And even though the most I've walked at a single time is .25 miles, and even though I have 98.93 miles left to go this month if I actually want to do the 100 Mile March. Because I'm actually trying--sure, it's only a few minutes at a time, but it's more than I was doing before.

(Oh, I've also gained four pounds since my last weigh-in two weeks ago, so I'm nervous about Wednesday. But I'm super bloated and menstruating and I'm basically a walking phlegm factory, so maybe enough bodily fluids will leave my body by Wednesday to at least keep me from gaining weight at my Weight Watcher's meeting. We shall see.)

This is going to be one loooooong March.

100 Miles

I'm a little bit nervous about what I may have gotten myself into.

I signed up the for 100 Mile March.

Ahh!

Now, it's not exactly 100 miles at once...because then I would just die. But you're expected to walk/run/jog 100 miles throughout the month of March. My company is participating and was asking for volunteers, so I got all optimistic and signed up.

Then I tried to ACTUALLY walk, and now I'm not sure I'm going to be able to do it at all.

There are 31 days in March, so if I walk right around three miles every day, I'll be able to do it.

Unfortunately, there's a huge disconnect between that math and what I can actually do.

I picked up my treadmill from my girlfriend's brother's house (because I obviously was never using it!), plugged it in, and hopped on. I started for the first minute or two thinking "Wow, this may actually be do-able!" By the third minute, I was panting and my lungs were burning, even though I was walking at roughly the same slow pace I'd do strolling through a museum. So slow, but so painful.

By the fifth minute, I was wheezing and if my girlfriend had been able to hear me, I would have called to her to bring me my inhaler.

And by the eighth minute, I couldn't breathe, my heart was pounding through my chest, and my teeth were hurting like I was about to have an asthma attack. I turned off the treadmill and collapsed in the closest chair.

I ONLY WALKED .2 MILES.

NOT EVEN A QUARTER OF A FUCKING MILE.

And I was DYING.

I mean, it's no secret that I am lazy and I hate to exercise. I haven't been able to trust my heart or lungs enough to really do much of anything. I really try to avoid moving at all if I can help it.

But I thought I could at least WALK!

Back before I got sick and had my heart surgery, I would get up in the mornings and go for a nice brisk walk. I was hitting around a 15 to 18 minute mile, depending on how many times I broke into a jog. So when I turned on the treadmill yesterday, I figured it would take me maybe 20 minutes to walk the first mile, and hopefully I could get through three miles in a little under an hour.

WRONG.

If it takes me eight minutes to get through .2 miles, each mile will be 40 minutes. That means I'll have to  spend 120 minutes, or two whole hours, walking every night to do this 100 Mile March.

I just don't know if I can do it.

I'm determined to try, but I'm going to try not hating myself if I can't do it. I'm going to try hard. I haven't been using my daily inhaler with any regularity for the past few months, so I'm going to start using it again. It's not like losing weight is going to regrow my damaged lung tissue. But an inhaler along isn't going to get me through 100 miles.

Tonight, I want to try to hit at least .5 miles. Maybe tomorrow I'll be able to do a full mile.

Maybe not, but at least I'll be trying.

Delicioso!

Mexico was fantastico!

It was a little overcast and rainy, but it was still 77 degrees out--unlike the snow and -15 degree wind chill back home! We were directly on the ocean, with a view over poolside tiki hut bars and the rolling turquoise sea. The combination of cloudy weather and a gorgeous view from the balcony proved a little dangerous--I ordered room service six times in four days.

Whoops!

People were handing us free drinks from the second we got on the plane, on the bus to the resort, in line at check-in, at every meal, and even in line at the airport before the flight home. I told myself that I'd only drink one day to keep myself from going too overboard on sugar and alcohol, but in that one day I managed to drink over 100 Points Plus worth of frozen adult beverages.

Again...whoops :)

I tracked every single thing I ate, but I went over my weekly Weight Watchers points by a pretty remarkable 115 Points. HA!!! I knew it was going to be bad but I wasn't quite prepared for that much ridiculousness.

Still, I did track. And I swam and walked and moved around. And I'm forcing myself to go to weigh in on Wednesday.

I may have been bad, but fuck it--I was on vacation, and I didn't go off the rails completely.

Plus, there's this: my seat belt fit on the airplane. Like, it easily fit. Sure, it was let out as far as it would go, but it fit comfortably. And I wore a bathing suit in front of my coworkers without dying from embarrassment. We took a ton of pictures and I only had to delete a handful--including all the full body photos! I walked up and down bus aisles without having to squeeze my ass between the seats. I sat in folding chairs without fearing I would crush them.

No matter what the scale says on Wednesday, I'm still one happy camper.

You Win Some, You Gain Some

So...

I gained 4.8 pounds this week.

That's actually not as much as I had feared. I'm back up to 261 pounds, but I've still lost 43 pounds total. I was really hoping to get my 50 pound token soon, so this step backwards sucks. I'm disappointed, but I AM glad I weighed in. Especially with the Cancun trip this weekend--I plan to take full advantage of the bars and buffets (hey, you only live once!) and I want to see realistically how much I gain.

I'm a little freaked out that I won't have my Weight Watchers phone app to track my Points. Since I'll be South of the Border, I'm going to have to rely on the little 360 Points Guide and make sure to track every single gulp of wine and cube of cheese. Yum :) Tracking one glass of alcohol is okay but by drink three, things get a little fuzzy...

One of the other girls going on the trip is also in Weight Watchers with me, and she's not planning to track this weekend. I admire her confidence in herself, but that is NOT for me! If I don't track in Cancun, I might as well go climb back into my fat suit now. I can't get off track. Even with today's setback, I still know I've made it pretty far. I want to keep going. If I let myself binge this weekend, I'll have 48 pounds to work off instead of 4.8.

Also...SWIMMING! I love to swim (LOVE to swim!!!) and the resort has two big pools (WITH a swim-up bar!) and it's directly on the beach. So I'll be romping in the waves, diving in the pool, frolicking around in the ocean--if I'm going to track everything I eat, I'm also going to track all of my Activity Points, dammit!

Maybe I'll earn myself an extra margarita...or five :)

Keep On Truckin'

Not weighing in this week is driving me CRAZY. After three days and nights of a veritable food orgy, I really need the reality check of getting on the scale so I can point myself in the right direction again. Alas, my meeting this week was cancelled and I still don't have a working scale, so I have to wait until next Wednesday to see my Christmas damage.

Seriously, I ate a lot.

I stayed within my Points for the week--but just barely. Like, when I got into the negative numbers, I went in and gave myself Activity Points for things like doing the laundry and playing with my niece and nephew. And then when I went negative again, I started scrolling through the food I ate and amending the amounts ('that 1/2 cup of mashed potatoes was really more like 1/4 cup...and I didn't finish that piece of cake so I'll only count 3/4 of it...'). There was just so much temptation. I didn't go crazy, but I did do some serious buffet-line-grazing. And I just had to "test" the nachos every time I stirred them. And it's not like you can have just ONE chocolate chip cookie when there's a whole bag just waiting to be eaten...

Now that Christmas is over, it's hard to get back into my good habits. I had a snow day yesterday, so we spent the day lazing around and eating leftovers. I knew it wasn't a good idea to bring leftovers home, but I'm a sucker for green bean casserole.  Extra cheesy.

My stockings were thankfully candy-free! I asked everyone to refrain from giving me sweets, so I ended up with tons of new earrings and trinkets and even some sugar free Jell-o boxes (score!). Plus, I got some awesome stuff for the kitchen. A new food scale, a really nice knife block and new knives, some stainless steel measuring cups, some measuring scoops with teaspoons and tablespoons on the handles, an olive oil mister, a garlic press, etc. So in between the bombardments of cookies and candy, I also got gentle reminders of my healthier habits.

It was also really nice to hear all of the compliments from my extended family--they last saw me about twenty pounds ago, so they can see now that I'm losing weight. And I only had to delete half of the photos of myself, instead of the usual 90%, so that was nice also.

I'm struggling to get back on track, and knowing that my next weigh-in is a week away has made me even more reluctant to be good. I'm still snacking on my girlfriend's candy, and I'm not drinking the water I was before. But I'm tracking everything, so at least if I gain next week, I'll be able to flip back through the last two weeks and see all of the bad decisions I made that showed up on the scale.

Hopefully I can reign it in before then, though, and actually lose a pound or two!

I Work Out (No I Don't)

There's something I'd like to share: I am lazy.

Seriously, I'm super lazy. Always have been. When I was in third grade, I would sit down in the middle of the soccer field and search for four leaf clovers. When I was in softball through elementary and middle school, I was the catcher so I wouldn't have to walk anywhere (I was a terrible catcher. I don't know why they let me do it. I would squat there, chewing sunflower seeds, halfheartedly tossing the ball back to the pitcher. By the end of the inning, the pitcher was always worn out from retrieving my errant balls and my sweaty face mask would be dotted with sunflower shells. Oy.)

My favorite part about any of the sports my parents forced me into was always, ALWAYS the snacks. Little Debbies, fruit snacks, Hi-C, Squeeze-its...they totally made it worth suffering through one crappy game after another. The entire time I was shuffling up and down the basketball court or relaxing in the dugout, I was fantisizing about the candy the parents would pass out when we were done. Working out was awful, but the candy reward got me through.

As an adult, I am even lazier. I ask my girlfriend to get everything for me. I have to sit down if I walk more than half a block. At Disney World, I had to have the next bench or low wall in sight before I waddled any further. Last year, I had to leave a haunted house through the emergency exit, not because I was scared but because I was so out of breath I thought I was going to pass out. Between my non-functioning heart valve and the chronic lung problems that began when I got sick in 2007, I have a good excuse to be lazy, and I pull the "heart problem card" all the time. I have my employees pick up papers from the printer for me, I make excuses to get out of meetings on the third floor because I don't want to climb the stairs, and I have even put off going to the bathroom because I didn't want to walk that far.

Seriously. So lazy.

Yes, the sloth is my spirit animal.

So one of the things that makes me nervous about Weight Watchers is the activity portion. I know that one of the major components of staying on Plan is to add activity to my life, but I have avoided it at all costs. I feel like I can't work out. I self-diagnosed myself as exercise intolerant. It's just laziness, but I don't trust myself to do too much.

One major scare a few years ago, the year after my open heart surgery, really made me never want to work out or increase my heart rate again. I had taken a tour of Mammoth Cave and we were on our way out. The exit required a trek up exactly 440 stairs--before we even hit the stairs, I was already out of breath, heart racing, and the very last person in the group except for the guide who was turning off lights behind me. I started up the stairs and barely made it a quarter of the way before I stopped, my legs quivering, pouring sweat. I began having my first true asthma attack...and guess who hadn't brought an inhaler? The asthma attack was bad enough, but looking up the remaining stairs made me want to die. The group slowly disappeared out into the sunlight and I was left with my nervous girlfriend and a guide urging me on. I got up another quarter of the way and then stopped and truly started to freak out. There was no other way out but up, and those two were NOT going to be able to carry me. Sooo...my asthma attack turned into a panic attack, and I was then convinced I was having an actual heart attack. I was so scared.

I was crying by then, shaking, and absolutely humiliated. I eventually made it up the stairs, one at a time, and had to make the ultimate walk of shame to the bus where the entire tour group was staring at me. Of course, I had to shoehorn myself down the bus aisle and I knew my face was a gross combination of green, gray, white, and bright red. I can't think of a time I was more embarrassed. That experience left me terrified of having another episode like it, so from that moment on I avoided all physical activity at all costs, particularly activity where I knew I'd be stuck if I couldn't go on (like hiking, which I love). And the longer I avoided moving, the less I began to move. By the time I started Weight Watchers, I was coming home and sitting on the couch for an hour before cooking supper, and then sitting on the couch for several more hours while my girlfriend got me drinks, food, and whatever else I needed. I pretty much only stood up to go to work or use the bathroom.

I'm extremely happy to say that things are changing.

It started when I was on the steroids--I had insomnia for several days, and instead of watching the television all night, I started cleaning. I organized cabinets, folded laundry, collected items to donate, sorted through junk drawers, and did everything I'd been putting off for years. I figured it was only because of the steroids but...well...I haven't stopped. I'm sleeping normally again and I've been off the steroids for a week, but instead of coming home and turning on the television, I'm straighting up the house, playing with the dog, or finding something to tidy up or repair.

This weekend, we went to an outdoor Christmas event and I didn't sit down once. I wandered along the canal and went into stores, when just months before I would have preferred to sit on a bench while my girlfriend walked around. On Sunday, I suggested we go to a Christmas display at the art museum and I walked so quickly through the grounds that my girlfriend struggled to keep up. Tonight, I went downtown and actually walked three blocks to meet up with my family, and then walked around for a little while, and then walked back to my truck--I NEVER would have agreed to do that before! I guess it's true what the commercial says: a body in motion stays in motion (yes, I realize that's a law of physics and not just a commercial). I'm definitely in motion.

And possibly even cooler? I haven't used my inhaler for weeks. I usually take a daily inhaler and then carry another one for emergencies--I stopped using both. I carry them in case I need them, but I have been walking around like a normal, healthy person and I haven't used an inhaler! Do you know how huge that is for me?!

Even though I don't see myself ever joining a gym (just the thought makes me anxious) or jogging around outside, I don't think I need traditional exercise to move more. I AM moving more. I'm walking, I'm going to events, I'm doing more now than I ever thought I would again. I had almost resigned myself to a life like the mom in What's Eating Gilbert Grape (I do need to talk about my grandmother at some point...I love her so much but ending up like her is my worst nightmare) so it feels incredible to finally get out and enjoy life. By the spring, maybe I'll even feel confident enough in myself to go for a hike--that would make me so extremely happy. No matter what the scale says tomorrow at weigh in, I am proud of myself. I feel like I'm slowly reclaiming my life, and it's awesome.

Plus, it doesn't hurt that the house is finally clean!

Simply Filling Sucks.

I totally would have caved today if I knew I wasn't going to be writing or telling anyone about it here! When I woke up, I remembered that today was a baby shower at work, and we were all gathering at a popular local pizza joint for lunch. Talk about a food trap. I was determined to stay strong. I only had seven Points left to complete my Simply Filling Technique week and I was hoping to use those points for my dessert each night. So the pizza place was truly torture. There were baskets of garlicky breadsticks, plates full of dipping sides, and an entire table full of hand-tossed gourmet pizza running with cheese.
 
What did I have? I packed some egg salad and reduced calorie bread, which I ate at my desk before we went to the baby shower/pizza gauntlet. Plus some pomegranate seeds mixed with sugar free Jell-O. Then I had some 94% fat free popcorn, and I was still hungry the instant I walked through the doors into cheese and pizza-scented heaven.

While everyone else passed oozing slices and fragrant breadsticks, I sat there with some cherry tomatoes, an overripe banana, and a clementine on my plate. It was maybe the saddest meal ever eaten at a pizza parlor.

I passed up the cupcakes as well. White and chocolate, with a mountain of blue frosting. They looked wonderful and really triggered my sweet tooth, but I think they were still easier to pass up then the pizza was. Stupid Simply Filling.

 

Tonight I had polenta and veggies with fat free cheese, and a salad with fat free Italian dressing (Still a Point! Grr!) and croutons made from my rosemary bread. I followed it quickly with another Smart Ones sundae, and with my last bite of dessert, my final Points were gone. Damn.

 

I'm still hungry right this minute! I think I could go raid the fridge and eat until I literally exploded. 

 

 

And I don't use the word 'literally' liberally. It feels like I could actually eat until I split through my skin.

 

I read on some Weight Watchers post that members have given themselves an extra seven Points during their first Simply Filling trial. I think that may have to happen--I don't think I'll be very pleasant to be around if I force myself to wait until Wednesday morning to eat anything with any Points value. Maybe I'm not strong enough, maybe I'm not doing something correctly, maybe I'm just too much of a glutton still at this stage to eat only Power Foods, maybe the steroids or Aunt Flo (gross, sorry) or finally feeling better after two weeks of bronchitis are all conspiring to turn me into a carbo-loading eating machine.

 

Whatever the reason, I'm willing to cheat and go over my weekly Points by up to seven if it means I can avoid eating my dog or turning on a small village, zombie-style. I suppose I could have counted all of the cleaning I did this weekend as Activity Points, but I still feel guilty counting Activity Points unless I'm, like, in workout clothes at the gym. Which hasn't happened yet and probably won't until I lose enough weight to be able to workout in public without humiliating myself. So there you have it.

 

Anyway, just one more day and I'll be gifted 43 magical daily Points on top of 49 weekly Points and I'll be so happy I won't know what to eat first!