What a Difference a Year Can Make...

"You may be disappointed if you fail, but you are doomed if you don't try."
    ~Beverly Sills~

I couldn't tell you the exact date.  I did that on purpose - failed to note my "start" date.  Because - seemingly hundreds of times before - I had done just that. Drew a line in the sand on "x" date, sure that things were going to change.  And they would. For a day. A week. A month.  

Until old habits returned.  A few pounds lost, quickly replaced, often with more.  

And it just got too damn depressing.  Looking at a "before" picture, only to realize that the "after" was worse.  Looking at the "before" stats, realizing that numbers were not moving in the right direction.  Before I was fat.  Now I was fat and filled with shame and embarrassment.  A failure. Again. And again.

So, it was approximately one year ago that I mustered up my courage and made a commitment to myself.  I was going to stop driving myself into the ground.  Stop putting myself last. Stop making excuses and start making a difference.  Give my kids a mom they could play with and be proud of.  

It started very small. Little changes. Smaller portions.  More veggies.  No eating after dinner.  

Fortunately, I started seeing some progress right away.  Not huge figures.  A couple pounds here.  Another couple more the following week... but dropping.  It took another couple of weeks for me to decide that I needed to make a regular commitment to exercise.  Again, I don't know the date.  Sometime in late-Feb or early-March I went for my first run. In the cold, in the dark.  Only could make it a minute or two at a time.  But would drag my butt around the darkened neighborhood for 20-30 min, 3 times a week.  Then started doing the Couch-to-5k Program and set my sights on a 5k race in early May.

I ran that 5k in about 36 minutes (?).  I thought I was going to die and wanted to puke at the end.  Seriously.  

And yet, I was so stinking proud. I didn't care if it was slow or ponderous or terribly awkward looking (b/c it was all of those things).  I did it.  It was evidence of a change I had NOT given up on.  

This past Sunday, I ran 10 miles at around 10:45 min/mile pace.  Not speedy by most standards, but a huge improvement in a year.  I ran the entire 10 miles without walking and I didn't need to puke at the end. :) I'm training for the Riverbank Run 25k in May.  A year ago, I would have said 15.5 miles is impossible.  

But it's not. 

Today I hopped on the scale.  And the numbers finally showed what I've been anxiously waiting to see the past couple of weeks.  In the last year(ish), I have lost 50 lbs.  Fifty.  That number just astounds me, and yet it doesn't.  That's less than one pound per week, on average.  If I had thought about losing less than one pound a week a year ago, I probably would have quit in frustration.  It's so hard for so little reward!  What lies we feed ourselves.

I am here to say that 50 lbs in a year is rewarding.  Dropping 3-4 sizes is rewarding.  You know what's even better?  That feeling after completing a 10 mile run.  That feeling of racing and wrestling with my kids.  That feeling when they tell me I should be famous because I can run 10 miles (yes, they are easy to please, but still).  Knowing that they are all proud of me and supporting me, not matter what my size.  

I told Mark this morning that I'd hit this milestone.  He hugged me and told me he was proud of me.  But he seemed a little surprised.  Maybe that's because he has always thought I was beautiful.  I didn't need to lose this weight for him and that has made all the difference as well.  But I needed to do it for me.  I am starting to see what he sees...

And I'm proud.