The Domino Effect

You know how it happens. You push a domino, and pretty soon, they're all falling down. That's the kind of day I had today. It wasn't a bad weigh-in day. Or eating day. It was just a bad "lots of personal shit going on" day.

I had what I would find out to be my last session with my personal trainer today. A few months back, she was promoted to fitness director. She enrolls all the new members, and gives tours and does payroll and all that other fun gym shit. But, she decided to keep on a few PT clients, and I was one of them. My trainer is awesome. She motivates me and pushes me. She knows what fuels me. She knows my story. She knows about my surgery and my struggles and she just knows what works for me. So today she broke the news to me.

Ugh. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.

Seriously.

I am crushed. Truly.

So, she asked me if there was anyone specific I'd like to work with.

Well, maybe.

When I started at the gym, I worked with Dan. Dan used to be over 300 pounds, so he knows the struggle. But when I started working with him, I was also over 350 pounds. He had me walk on the treadmill one day for 30 minutes and I thought I would die. He tried to push me, and be supportive of me, but I wasn't having any of it. I was SO far out of my comfort zone, I quit. I quit on Dan, I quit on training and I probably stayed out of the gym for an entire year. I avoided the gym because I wanted to avoid Dan, because I knew if I saw him, he'd try to schedule me for PT. And I didn't want that.

So, I'm nervous. I'm scared to work with him again. I know he'll push me out of my comfort zone. But this time, I think I'm better physically able to handle it. But still. Ugh. 

So between my shitty day and that, I did something today I just don't do. I cried. I did. I sat at my desk and just put my head into my hands and had myself a little pity party, complete with Atkins peanut butter cups. Oh, yes I did. I ate my feelings today. THE STRUGGLE IS REAL MY FRIENDS! The struggle is real.

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Self Doubt

This is me. Red-faced and sweaty after a session with my personal trainer.  Today was a good day at the gym.  I overcame some stuff.  Mostly, self doubt.

When I first joined the gym, I was so nervous about being an obese person in the gym that I actually emailed the director before going to the gym, to see how they'd act towards me.  I knew I found the right place when the director emailed me back immediately, and reassured me that this gym would be as much my gym as anyone else's gym.  He wanted me to feel welcome there, no matter what shape I was in.

The day my husband and I toured the gym, I was so anxious I nearly vomited.  I had that feeling about the gym every single time I went.  It was so bad that I stopped working with my original trainer, and stopped going to the gym all-together.  I was too afraid to challenge myself, and definitely too afraid to fail.

I was one of those girls who LOATHED gym class in high school.  I hated it so much that my junior year I had to take gym twice a day, because I skipped it so much, I flunked it.  Yes, you can fail gym class.  Anyhow, I was always so scared to try things that I knew I couldn't do, like doing flips on the uneven parallel bars, which I know for a fact I couldn't do because I couldn't lift my own body weight.  And I couldn't run around the entire track. And I couldn't shoot hoops to save my fucking life.  It was awful, and embarrassing and I got made fun of a lot for it.  

So, when I'm in the gym now, and I'm asked to try something new, I panic.  Like the day my trainer asked me to do the box jumps. My head said no fat girl, you cannot do those. and my body said no fat girl, you cannot do those.  And when I told my trainer "I cannot do this", before I even tried, she said YES YOU CAN. I tried. And I did it.

Today, she had me on this ab bench. The bench locks in your feet and has you laying backwards at a very odd angle. I locked my feet in and the bench was wobbly. She told me it was, and assured me I wouldn't fall. I didn't feel secure on that bench at all. The old me, the fat me SCREAMED at me GET OUT OF THIS SITUATION! She saw I was panicking and helped me lay back on the bench. And low and behold, I did sit ups on this machine. Not crunches. But actual raise up your entire body and do a real adult grown up sit up. I DID THAT. And dammit, I was proud of myself. I really was, and my trainer was too. She tells everyone in the gym that I'm kicking ass and doing well and that feels good coming from her.

She told me that she thinks my mind is still not used to my new body, and she is right. It's not. I still feel 368 pounds. I still feel like that girl.  I still see that girl in the mirror. I still see that girl at the gym. I still feel like I'm just going to fail at whatever I try, no matter what. And enough is enough. I've got to learn that it's OK to take a risk. So what if I do fail at something? Who cares? At least I can say I tried, right?

Another thing I'm scared to try again is jogging, and the elliptical.  Right after I first started the gym, I said ok, we're going to try the elliptical today. I barely lasted 5 minutes on it. It was HARD. Really hard. And even though that was 2 years and 145 pounds ago, I still freak out. I want to try the elliptical SO BAD, so the next time I'm there I really need to just suck this up and do it. Stop being such a punk and do it.  And then there is running. I tried Couch to 5K last fall when I was prepping for my 5K. I was awful at it. I would barely jog for less than a minute and my lungs would scream from being so taxed. When we did the 5K, I tried to run a bit, but the problem I had was my fat. It cheered for me! My fat clapped as I ran and that was just so discouraging. So, I stopped trying.

My husband and I were out for a walk Saturday and I really wanted to try running. But, I need compression garments first. I've got way too much loose skin and flab that bounces and slaps when I jump so I know when I run it'll do the same.

Sigh. Fat girl problems.

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Halfway there...

I'm halfway to my desired weight loss.  I've lost 101 pounds so far.  I guess it's ok for almost 6 months.  I see my surgeon next week and I'll find out if he's pleased with my progress, or not so happy.  I have no idea what he'll be thinking.

I have realized that I am halfway to my goal.  I went into this knowing I'd ideally like to lose 200 pounds.  When I started my journey, that seemed like such a daunting figure. Now that I'm halfway there, it still does.  I'm not so sure I'll be able to lose another 100.  I've worked hard for this.  I work hard all the time at the gym and the pool.

I'm a rockstar at the gym, though.  My personal trainer takes me into the "muscle head" section of the gym - the place I always avoided because I can't stand "those" guys.  The big goofy muscle heads who stare at themselves in the mirror while they flex.  I hate them all.  And I've never felt comfortable near those people.  And now I'm working out side by side next to them.  That's right.  I'm at the squat rack, and I'm one of those people who stands looking in the mirror when I do my squats or calf raises to be sure my form is correct.  Ugh!

Anyhow, I've heard that weight loss the first 6 months comes easy, and after that, it's a struggle.  This worries me, because I've been a super slow loser, and I seem to get easily discouraged by this.

I'm prepared to kick up my exercise.  I can't wait for this tattoo to finish healing so I can hit the pool hard again.  I've REALLY missed it, but I've been good and put in extra gym time.  I've even gone to the gym alone - by my frikkin self - when my hubby couldn't go with me, and that's something I never ever would of done before.

I'm looking forward to dropping the next 100 pounds - I just hope it doesn't take forever. :/

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Dun dun dun...failure!

Well, that was interesting.  Since July, I've been looking forward to running/walking in my first 5K.  One of my personal goals - and items on my bucket list - is to participate in a 5K. But in my mind, I'd be able to jog more than walk.  But, that didn't happen.

I started preparation in the gym a few months ago doing the Couch to 5K program.  I hadn't ran since high school, and I graduated in '94.  So it's been a REAL long time.  I would jog 30 seconds or so and just not be able to jog any more.  Then, I started working with my trainer, so I was no longer doing the couch to 5K program, but instead, I was doing strength training.  I thought it'd be enough to finish this race, but not so much.

I had one goal.  ONE FUCKING GOAL.  Finish.  That's it.  I didn't care how it happened, I just wanted to finish.  And I MOTHERFUCKING FAILED.  :/

We got there this morning, and had to stand around an hour waiting for the race to start. The old me never would of been able to handle this, because my back would of been in so much pain, and it would of gone numb.  Thankfully, since dropping 95 pounds, I don't suffer from that problem so much anymore.  But, this morning, it was cold.  I was cold. And after standing there an hour, my lower back was starting to feel it.  

Right at 10, they lined up all the racers and let us loose.  I remember commenting to my hubby "holy shit, look at how far up those runners are!"  Yea...we were slow.  The race was held at a cemetery  and the road was not paved.  It was loose gravel mixed in with rocks and stones.  It was unstable and muddy from the rain.  We walked the first mile in 16 minutes.  I'm sure there were some people who ran the entire way around in that time frame, but I don't give a fuck.  16 minutes for me is a personal best.  I can tell you that at the gym, on the treadmill, it usually takes me 22-25 minutes to go a mile.  So, this for me was awesome.

Now, a 5K is 3.1 miles.  By the time we got to the starting line (where we were supposed to walk around the entire thing a second time), we had walked 2.7 miles.  So, I call shenanigans.  It was NOT a true 5K, because one lap was 2.7 miles.  And I was whooped. My back and knee were killing me.  So, my husband and I said fuck it.  

And?  I feel like utter shit.  I feel like a failure.  Sure, I was "faster than everyone else who sat on the couch."  Great.  Big fucking deal.  Sure, the "old me" would of been at home, on my couch, likely pigging out on something.  Great.  Big fucking deal.

I WANTED and NEEDED to at least finish today to feel successful, and I didn't do it.  So now?  I feel like shit and will only use this to fuel my fire.  I will hit the gym harder next week.  I will get on the treadmill and beat 2.7 miles in 44 minutes because now I know I can.  I will not, ever again, take more than 16 minutes to walk a mile, because now I know I can.  I have to do better!

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Stalled again. Grrrrr.

Being stalled has got to be one of the most frustrating things in the world.  Pre-op, I didn't weigh myself.  This was mostly due to the fact that the scale didn't go up as much as I weighed - the cut-off limit was 350 lbs.  So, I couldn't weigh myself even if I wanted to.  I'd get weighed at the doctors, but tell them not to tell me.  

Anyhow, now that I CAN weigh myself, I do it every single morning, like clockwork.  I really shouldn't, because all it does is drive me nuts.  BUT!  When I am stalled, it alerts me to this so I can make adjustments. 

I don't know what I'm doing wrong, y'all.  I am having my ass handed to my by my personal trainer at the gym.  She works me GOOD.  I swim laps three times a week, for at least an hour at a time.  I am getting at a minimum, 60g of protein a day.  This was my nutrioninst's minimum daily recommendation.  Now, I was in her office last week all in a panic, over my carb intake.  Because I have days where my carbs equal my protein.  But, she told me that 90g of carbs is my limit.  And, she would like to see my up my protein, so I do know that I need to do that.  It's just so hard.  The food addict in me still wants everything to come from food, not supplements.

Arrggghh.

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Torture Rack

Ever see a TRX at a gym?  The "T-Rex" as an old trainer lovingly referred to it.  I refer to it simply as "torture rack".  My very first experience with this machine from hell was the first time I worked out in the gym.  Vince was the trainer.  He was big and muscular and a dick.  He had me doing squats and lunges and all sorts of things.  And after 10 minutes, my legs were jello.  I had a hard time walking.  I left the gym after that, sat in my car and cried.  I cried because I was in pain.  I cried because I was ashamed that my weight got so out of hand I couldn't handle the TRX.  I just cried out of frustration.

After that, I walked funny for nearly a week.  It was bad.  Really bad.  And I hated the gym.  That experience made me hate going. I DREADED sessions with my personal trainer, because I was so scared he'd make me use the TRX again.

About a week or so ago, I was minding my own business on the treadmill.  One of the new trainers came over to me and we got to chatting.  We talked about my goals at the gym, and we talked about my surgery.  She asked if I'd want to work out with her, and I did.  I went into my session with her knowing full well I didn't want to work with a trainer again.  For one, it's expensive.  $40 a week.  That's a lot of money for me.  Second, I just want to go in, do my thing, and leave.  I don't want to work with a trainer and have to deal with it.  I just don't.  My first go-round with a trainer just didn't work out for me so well.  When my new trainer took me over to the torture rack, all I could think was OH.MY.GOD.NO.NO.NO.NO.NO.NO.YOU.SKINNY.BITCH.DIE.

We did squats.  And lunges. And these weirdo suspension push-ups.  And suspension bicep curls.  And!  I even got my fat ass down on the gym floor and did crunches.  And my trainer?  She's awesomesauce.  I fought wanting to work with a trainer again, but we just really gelled together.  And truth be told, I can really use the help at the gym.

She kicked my ASS on the TRX!  Later that day I could just feel the soreness in my muscles.  And when I woke up the next day?  Let's just say it took everything in me to suck it up and go to the pool, soreness and all, but I did.  I was incredibly sore for the next two days, but sucked it up.  And yesterday we even had another training session.  She's kicking my ass, but pushing me and my body to do things that I know it can do...that I want it to do.

And, with my personal training comes nutrition counseling as well.  I have a web site to log into to log everything, and she can check in on me and see how I'm doing.  Probably the worst part about yesterday was being weight, in the gym.  Oh, and then she took my measurements.  To her credit, she did ask me if I'd be more comfortable doing it secluded in the locker room but I just don't care anymore.  I don't.  I used to care.  I used to be SO self conscious walking into that gym, but I no longer care.  I belong there just as much as those lunk heads do, and I'll be damned if I'm going to walk around all uncomfortable in the gym.  Fuck it.  I pay my dues, it's my gym too.  And I just.don't.care.  

So that's where I'm at.  Today, I'm wicked sore from my workout again.  Thighs, butt, arms...all killing me, but it's good because I know I'm working, and I hope to goodness this helps speed things along!

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Feeling F-I-N-E

It's been a long time coming.  A long time.  In fact, I can't even remember the last time I felt like this.  Felt...good.  And shouldn't we all feel good?  I mean....we get one life.  And we get one body.  We should feel good!!

And to be honest, I feel FAN-FLIPPING-TASTIC.  I do.  My weight loss could be faster.  I could eat more protein.  I can make some improvements.  But compared to two months ago?  I feel like a completely different person.  This person, the one writing this right now, feels like someone else.  

I am someone who LOVES to wake up each morning and go work out.  Whether it's a pool day, or a gym day, I love it.  I love how I feel when I'm done.  Accomplished.  Energized.  I love seeing my progress.  I love everything about it.

I bought myself a FitBit so I could track my steps and what not.  There are days when it's difficult for me to get in as many as I'd like, because I work from home.  And on swim days, unfortunately, it looks like I'm very inactive, which isn't true at all.  But that's besides the point...

I also started the 30-day squat challenge.  Today was my day #9 and on tap for today was 100 squats.  I did 30 before my shower, 30 after my shower, and 40 while I was waiting for my lunch to finish cooking.  I am feeling VERY accomplished with this challenge.  If you told me two weeks ago that I'd be working out like this, AND doing squats, I'd of told you to take a shit for yourself.

Oh!  And one more THRILLING victory!  I have these 5 lb. hand weights at home.  5 lbs. doesn't sound like much, but for right now, it's all I need.  I use those and work my arms every day.  So, I'm looking in the mirror the other day and thinking to myself hhmm...my arms are looking better.  So I hold up my arm and flex my bicep.  I nearly DIED when I was able to see the tone in my arms!  I AM BUILDING MUSCLE TONE PEOPLE!  To some that might not seem like such a big deal, but to me, it means that what I'm doing is working.  I am a happy girl and I FEEL GOOD!

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