The Ruth Cooper Project

Day 623: Outrun, Outwit, Outlast

2011-08-30T00:56:00.004-04:00

Grey and gently breezy, with just a hint of Fall to come, would be a great way to describe six am on Saturday morning. There was a hurricane on the way, but for almost eleven hundred runners, the Patrick Henry Half Marathon had to be run.

Sporadic drizzles gave way to definite rain as the locomotive whistle started the 13.1-mile trot into the Ashland countryside. I hadn't even made it a third of a mile before I was wet and my sneakers began squeaking on the asphalt (a sound which never went away). This race would be different from my last half marathon and from last week's race - I was going to push even harder.

Unlike any of my previous non-triathlon races, this one had two checkpoints which HAD to be made or I would be carted back to the finish line with a stigmatic "DNC" (Did Not Complete) attached to my checkpoint time. When I registered, I was unaware of the cutoff times and, only a week before, realized the challenge which lay ahead.

My Shamrock half marathon time had been three hours and six minutes. My half Ironman run time had been three hours and twenty-one minutes (after 56 miles of biking). This race I determined I would beat my previous times and come in under three hours. I knew what it would take and I also knew how many excuses to stop I would end up making on the course; that needed to stop.

I don't know how many of you have ever traveled 13.1 miles by foot, but that is a long way for your feet to keep hitting the ground. I had prayed for something new for this race - for the patience I needed to run a good race and for the strength to finish strong. I never before understood patience with respect to the metaphor of running (in the Bible). I do now.

For a couple months now, I have been a living example of quitting that which I started. From June 2010 until April 2011, I worked hard, and I do mean HARD to lose weight. I went from 315 pounds to 197 and then, with my goal weight 27 pounds away, I quit.

Let me make it clear: I did not "fall" off the wagon, I "leaped". For three amazing weeks, I was able to eat whatever I wanted and the scale did. not. move. It remained under 200 pounds and I was euphoric. I had clearly arrived.

All too soon, it became apparent what I had done. A couple of months basically maintaining and then the weight started creeping back on and one day, I found I had gained 30+ pounds back(!). That realization, instead of strengthening my resolve to fix the issue, only served as a point of depression and negative thoughts. I think "fat cow" was my favorite.

Running became uncomfortable again, but still I continued to compete and watched my times and post-race "feelings" drop. I was ashamed of those races because I knew, if I had just pushed myself a little harder, I could have finished better. I always finished hard; always. I always started strong. It was what happened where the crowd couldn't see me... those telling moments alone on the running course.

This race HAD to be different and, I hoped, would launch me into a new era of focus, discipline, and determination. I wanted so desperately to be proud of this race and to finish ahead of all the time checks which were in place.

So I ran. And walked. And ran again.

After a mile, I was the second-to-last runner on the course (de-ee-e-pressing), but I knew I could do better. A runner wearing bright red stockings saw me walking so soon and asked if I was following a certain run/walk strategy. I had to say I wasn't and she cheerfully informed me she would see me at the finish line and trotted away - not fast, but faster than my walking. After three miles, my legs felt so knotted, neither running nor walking seemed to feel right - but I was half-way to the first checkpoint and there was one runner behind me. Having forgotten my stopwatch helped fuel my desperation to get to that first point. Fairly certain my middle name was "AtLeastImNotLast" at that point.

Five miles brought even heavier rain, driving gusts of wind, and rolling country roads. Have I ever mentioned how I "love" hills. I was soaked and beginning to wonder if I would make it. The sweeper police car, with his flashing lights, traveled sloooowwwly behind the last runner; a mere eighth of a mile behind me. Behind him, a truck was picking up cones and volunteers were collapsing aid stations as the last runner passed. I was so embarrassed. Maybe I wasn't last, but I could see the police car and knew it was time to speed up, because my middle name had become "IHopeTheVolunteersDon'tSeeThoseObnoxiousFlashingLightsBehindMe."

A mental game seemed in order. I tried counting steps (75 run, 25 walk); that didn't last long. Then I saw the orange cones dividing runner from traffic. Perfect. Run past two cones, walk to the next one. Oh. Gonna walk for two cones? You're gonna run for at least three. That's a mile cone; you need to make it there before you can walk again. That helped pass time well, despite the "rolling" hills and the change of my middle name to "IsThatAnotherHillUpThere?!"

Shortly after six miles, a "greeter" was screaming at me that I had just a few minutes to make it or they would take me back. I looked over my shoulder at the sweeper police car, now further back, and the two runners behind me and made sure I got to that checkpoint in time, with four minutes to spare. "Victorious" seemed a good middle name to adopt.

That was as refreshing as the Powerade waiting there. I could make it to the next point, four miles away. I think my mind started going numb between seven and nine miles. My feet were getting tired and so were my arms, which I kept reminding myself MUST be kept above my waist so they didn't puff up so badly. The mind is a powerful thing in a long race. It whispers encouragement and discouragement alike. Wanna talk about the whole "taking every thought captive" bit? It becomes essential to finishing. In my head, I was Ruth "WhereAreTheGels" Cooper (there never were any gels provided along the course, I found out).

This is always the hardest part of any race I do. The middle part. The part where you are not really half-way, but you're not almost done, but you haven't just started, but you're just in a kind of limbo land - waiting to get to the next milestone.

Limbo land is where I have been, personally, since June. Kinda close to the completion of my weight-loss goal, but still in the middle. Too far from the start and too far from the finish. Personally, something fizzled and, though I am not entirely sure what happened, the fact remains, something happened. The fire seems gone. The desire to finish seems gone. I care, but I don't. I "know" what I need to do, but don't want to do it. I know what it takes to finish and I simply do not want to do the work.

I know returning to my exercise and dieting will get me the results I so desire. I even know once I get started, I will continue. As I relive this race, it is painfully clear how I am (and have been) sitting on the side of the metaphorical race course, munching on a donut, dreaming of how glorious it will be to cross the finish line. You know, amidst cheering and applause and spectators... not to mention the medal!

Thankfully, I remembered my desire to do something different for me. I was out here, in a hurricane, running a half marathon which had a time limit. The whole world of storm-trapped people on Facebook was waiting to hear how I did. There was a picture to be taken and posted. Another entry to make in my race book. Another bib number and medal to pin to the wall.

This race was not over. It was time to put into practice the "running patiently" part I had determined. And I did. One foot in front of the other. I thought of other runners in other states who were or would be running races that day. And I thought of what I was proving to myself - this was doable. "Patiently" became my middle name for those endless miles, but I kept moving and the choice to move became easier with each footfall.

I found I was passing people after the eighth mile; people I was positive I would never catch up to. And yet, they fell behind me and the evil sweeper car disappeared in the distance. Ten miles and the final checkpoint before the finish line - I made it with two minutes to spare. Only a 5k left - just 3.1 miles. My middle name was "AlmostThere" even though I knew I still had another 40-ish minutes of shuffling.

Rain started coming down even harder. The wind grew stronger and the trees swayed ominously. Many of these races, I am alone for the greater portion of the race (due to my lack of speed) and so many times, it feels as if it would be so much easier to just stop, sit down, and wait for the sweeper car. My shirt was soaked, my shoes gushed water with every stop and, what was worse, sand from previous mud runs was exiting the shoe and entering my socks. Water poured off my elbows and dripped into my eyes, stinging and making the contact lenses feel like unwelcome guests. A bathroom would have been nice, but that was something I had already determined would not be on the race course for me; I had to beat that time.

Feet hurt, knees ached, legs started feeling a little numb. Yet, halfway to mile eleven, a miracle happened. I wanted to pass one lady (whom I am almost positive I saw at the Shamrock), but couldn't get myself to run. I focused on passing her and suddenly found I was running again! It had become easier to run than to power walk! Up ahead, I spotted those red stockings which had passed me in the first mile - they were just ahead! I never thought I'd see her again! That goal gave me "wings" and I passed her, giving a cheerful word of encouragement and trotting on in front. My middle name was now "tortoise."

To finish mile twelve, a huge hill had to be climbed and that seemed to never end. Some bounding, extremely-fit guy came springing down the hill, informing us we were almost there - just another 400 meters and we'd be done with this hill. Thoughts of springy muscles tormented me the remainder of the climb; must be great to bound about like that. "Jealous"

Thoughts of running patiently, of enduring to the end, of a timely finish, of persevering, of anything but running were scrolling in my head as I crushed the thoughts of slowing down, of stopping, of ambling to the finish line, of the growing discomfort I felt. Mile thirteen was finished and with it, one last handful of volunteers and finished runners calling out encouraging words. And "ThatLastTenthWillGetYouEveryTime" Cooper headed for the last turn.

As the rain beat down as I turned the corner, I could see the finish line just one block ahead. My problem was my legs had decided to all but stop working and I could feel my middle name changing to "WhyIsItSOFarAway?!" I was doing the glorified shuffle and then couldn't even do that. As I walked, the finish line in sight, and wondering where that last little bit of energy could possibly come from, the thinned-out crowd began screaming, "Beat it! Beat it! Beat it!"

The finish line clock showed two minutes until the three-hour cutoff. "You can beat it!" "You can make it!" "Do it!" And I started running, a little harder, a little faster. That clock was ticking faster than I wanted it to and the spectators were yelling for more speed. I pushed harder and "Grrrrrr" Cooper's body pushed back.

There wasn't anything left. Twenty feet away and I began to realize falling was a serious threat. The outer edges of what I could see started getting dark and I worked to not make hideous faces which would be captured for posterity by the photographers. Fists clenched (another thing I work not to do) and wordless prayers issued, I focused on that point, one foot behind the finish line. Didn't think my legs would make it, but somehow, they did and I broke three hours for my half marathon, taking nearly ten minutes off my previous time!

I walked slooowwwly forward, stooping to receive the finisher medal, and slooowwwly moved out of the finish chute. Well, Ruth "OoooShinyMedal" Cooper, THAT was a race well-run! A finish I could be proud of! Everything had been used to get there and the victory was, indeed, sweet.

Outrun a swirling vortex of terror. Outwit the damaging mind games. Outlast a tiring body. More than a Survivor.

Day 539: Training and Commensurate Ennui

2011-06-06T12:31:00.004-04:00

After many profound brain things in my head, it shocked me to realize I have been thinking a lot about "being ready". Two tiny little words with such weighty import and elusive meaning... to me, at least.

I have this disturbing notion that I would like to complete a full Ironman triathlon at the end of October. It is a serious undertaking and this 140.6-mile race should not even be attempted without due preparation and training. I know this; the half Ironman was killer by itself!

Over the past few weeks, I've pinged my husband on and off about whether I can register for a particular Ironman and every week didn't get back a straight answer. Finally, this weekend, he lovingly told me, though he wanted to say yes, after much prayer and deliberation, he didn't think I was supposed to register.

A little crushed (okay... a LOT crushed), I started toying with the idea that maybe I wasn't supposed to do THAT Ironman, but perhaps another would be acceptable. Some research turned up another event at the end of October, so off I went to display my findings and ask if I could go to THIS Ironman.

Sadly, his answer came back once again in the negative. Painfully, the verdict returned with the assessment I knew to be true, even though it was in the deepest, darkest anklebone of my heart.

"She is not ready."

That is a very hard thing to hear and yet, for its being such a hard thing to hear, I hear it quite often and knew it to be true, yet again, in this situation. ::chuckles:: My response, I am sad to say, was to completely give up; stop training, stop shooting for any goal, stop everything.

Then I started thinking.

What if I'm not ready now, but might be closer to the Ironman event? What if I proceeded along my training plan as if I would run that huge race? What if this was some kind of test to see where I am in my dedication level (to this and many other somewhat stagnant areas in my life).

There's a verse in the Bible (and I paraphrase) that talks about studying to show oneself approved unto GOD (not man) and being like a workman who needs not to be ashamed of his work; rightly dividing the truth.

An interesting thought, that.

In applying that powerful thought to my current, disappointed situation, the truth began rearing its not-so-lovely head. My discipline in training has faltered and workouts have become sporadic and mostly half-hearted. I know I am not doing my best, but am not doing anything to "up" my game.

I still run, I still race, I still finish those races hard... but somewhere along the way, the focus switched to focus on the glory and the photos, the medals and the "I did that" which comes from completing these little (and some not-so-little) milestones. Not that feeling victorious at accomplishments is wrong, but how much more full and complete would that feeling be if the work leading up to that triumphant moment was diligent and consistent?

When I finish those races, there is almost always a nagging feeling I could have prepared better; I could have gotten more sleep the night before, could have improved my nutrition strategies or trained harder, or could have been consistent with my training program. I always finish my races hard and with nothing left in the tank, but seldom do I persevere in the mundane and overcome the ennui commensurate with day-to-day visits to the gym.

In that II Timothy verse, we are not told to study God's Word so others will be impressed when we win theological debates nor is it so we can sweep first-place Bible medals in find-the-verse contests. No. We are told to study to show ourselves approved to GOD. If the focus is on obedience to God and seeking His will in our endeavors, the rewards and trophies to be gained are far more permanent (though not tangible at the moment) and far more glorious than mind can fathom.

It is His approval we for which we strive.

At this point in my life, running and triathlons (with their requisite training) have prominence. The lessons learned thus far have been life changing and horizon broadening... and it would seem, there are more to come within this arena.

I do not believe I am done yet. As such, that verse needs to be applied to my life and, specifically, to how I prepare and compete in these sporting events. There are still thirty pounds of flab which need to be shed, so the training must go on. I will undertake the Ironman training, whether or not I end up competing in the triathlon of my choice is not relevant.

There is a path before me and it is my duty to walk it faithfully; to be the athlete who needs not be ashamed of the sweat, tears, and patience invested in this effort. God gave me this time in my life and it is my duty to be diligent in that calling. I want to finish my next race with NO nagging feelings of disappointment in myself and in how I handled the mundane and day-by-day training that got me there. My finish is strong, my race is not.

Don't know how it will end up, but I do know growth and maturity will increase as dedication and discipline increase.

Day 504: Finish Line... or Mile Marker

2011-05-02T23:59:00.001-04:00

About three weeks ago, something happened. Finally, after nine months (almost to the day) and hundreds of hours of hard work and determination, that scale registered a number; a one-derful number.

My weight started with a "one" and I had lost 119 pounds!

This was an amazing event. I couldn't believe it. I was now within 28 pounds of my goal weight... closer than I'd ever dared dream! This was unbelievable!

And three weeks passed...

Now you would think, with such a success, I would be spurred on toward accomplishing the loss of those last twenty-eight pounds. You would think, with my first 70.3-mile half-Ironman race a mere five days away, I would use that momentum to tackle that challenge with confidence. You would think.

But something else happened entirely.

Those three weeks, I just - stopped. I don't know what exactly happened; I just stopped. Stopped dieting, stopped exercising, stopped caring about many things... just stopped.

My first half Ironman is only five days away, and I feel even more depressed. I haven't been doing the workouts according to my plan and I've even gained some weight back. The idea of a 56-mile bike ride frightens me, yet I still can't make myself ride for more than an hour in preparation. I have done a half marathon before, so I know I can at least finish that section, but I can barely bring myself to do even a one-mile run.

Other areas are suffering, too. Dishes and laundry aren't getting done as frequently as they should. Disorder is creeping back into the house and the yard. Grocery shopping seems to have fallen by the wayside, yielding to "picking up something" for dinner each night. And all the other aspects of life just seem so overwhelming.

While "trapped" in this morass of knowing what I should do and not doing it, I realized this happened to me during the past almost-ten months of serious dieting and exercise.

The first two months in the program, I trained incredibly hard and was extreme in following the prescribed diet. I completed my first-ever triathlon, the 18.27-mile Sandman, in Virginia Beach and came apart in the weeks following that victory. I struggled, but still managed to focus and adhere to the program to lose eighty-four pounds in the first thirteen weeks... then I switched classes and classmates.

Again, everything seemed to fall apart. I felt as if I was in limbo, not having lost enough weight to move ahead, but having gone too far to start over. Eventually, I took a month off to regroup and rejoined the program re-energized and re-focused. I worked hard and completed the next big goal: my first half marathon. With that major accomplishment, I still backslid for several weeks.

Then I hit one hundred pounds lost with Tidewater Bariatrics. A couple more pounds, and that scale registered a weight beginning with a "one." It was as if I had attained "normalcy" again; I was a real human being. With the exception of those couple months around my wedding, this was the lowest I'd weighed for most of my 20's - but looked even better! All my clothes fit again; every single piece... even the ones I'd never been able to wear before! I was euphoric.

That euphoria carried me through a couple weeks of eating "normally" and not so normally. Weeks where the scale did not move to the right or the left but stayed fixed on that amazing "one"-derful number! I could feel the warning signs indicating I needed to up the exercise and slow the eating, but I didn't listen.

Now, here I am, "getting ready" for a mammoth race, the length of which I cannot even think upon without feeling sick to my stomach. I don't feel as "lean" or as fit as I did several weeks ago; I don't think it means I won't finish, but I do have concerns. What happened? What happened all those other times? How can I fix this?

Then it hit me.

I keep seeing mile markers as finish lines. I pull to a stop after meeting significant goals as if I had swept triumphantly beneath the finish line. My focus has been so hard and fixed on each of these mile markers (for that is what they are), that I forget I have many miles still to go.

That first triathlon wasn't the end, it was the first mile of a 26.2-mile marathon! Losing one hundred pounds wasn't the end, it was mile nine or ten. Getting below two hundred, while significant, still rates only a twelfth or thirteenth mile. That successful half marathon? Still just past halfway at maybe mile fifteen. This half Ironman, I'm putting a about mile eighteen... I still have so far to go.

None of these achievements are insignificant, but not one of them is a finish line. I still have an actual marathon to run for my thirtieth birthday (the original goal I set last September). I think I would like to do a full Ironman. I still have twenty-eight pounds to get rid of... and, clearly, I still have issues to deal with in the area of eating and life.

I have not arrived and, though I'm just a few miles from the finish line (with respect to weight loss), I have stopped running and am struggling to start again.

I need help.

Over the past five hundred days, I have striven to be honest and open, yet this is the post I have withheld - I think mostly from pride. While it would be nice to have this blog contain only success stories, I hold no monopoly on temptations, challenges, and defeats; others have been here before me.

In every endeavor, there comes a point where it seems impossible to do even one thing more. Yet I know that is where God can step in and mount us up with wings as eagles. I need your prayers at this point... the Ruth Cooper Project (with respect to weight loss) has achieved critical mass and I know, in the ankle-bone of my heart, prayer can launch it to a new level of success, focus, and inspiration both to me and to others who find themselves in similar straits.

Please help me finish strong... be the prayer beneath my wings.

Day 465: Photo Phinish

2011-03-24T20:44:00.005-04:00

And if you're interested in seeing what Jason and I look like as we cross the finish line (and some other pictures), check these links out.

Ruth crossing the finish line of the Shamrock 8k
(I'm in the lower right corner during the first 1-4 seconds of the video)

Jason crossing the finish line of the Shamrock 8k
(Jason can be seen middle-of-the-boardwalk during seconds 8-15... before he puts on his blur finish)

And here is the big one... well, half. These links will take you to see us crossing the half-marathon finish line.

Ruth crossing the finish line of the Shamrock Half-Marathon
(Smack down the center of the lane I come between seconds 8-16)

Jason crossing the finish line of the Shamrock Half-Marathon
(Middle of the road during seconds 15-24)

To get a more in-depth description of the two races we ran last weekend, check out the previous post on this blog... Day 460: Life is a Race... So Run! Quite the experience... and we qualified for completion of the Dolphin Challenge for the Shamrock event (i.e., run 8k AND half-marathon to get an extra piece of schwag - a dolphin pin!!). It's great!

Day 460: Life is a Race... So Run!

2011-03-20T23:59:00.001-04:00

It could not have been a more perfect day... weather-wise. Just-right breezes tickled the hotels along Atlantic Boulevard as they made their way through from the ocean. The sun, having risen only a few hours before, was masked by a protective layer of thin, gray clouds; no sunglasses needed for today.

And around me... 8500 people, all doing the same thing... running a race.

Hundreds and hundreds of people. People as far as the eye could see. From 31st Street to 2nd Street, running people. On the Boardwalk, traveling the opposite direction, hundreds and hundreds of running people. Everyone runs differently; some walk, some sprint and rest, some plod on methodically. Some run with determination while others ooze the desire to quit; some run with intense focus and shut out the world around them, others gregariously engage everyone they pass (or who passes them).

I ran with focus and tried to block the idea I still had four more miles to go. Today was the easy race; today was only an 8k. Tomorrow would be the hard one - a half marathon. Jason had long since run ahead and I couldn't see him any more. I was still feeling just a little rushed from our dash to catch our run.

Sometimes, I have to wonder if I'm in the process of creating Cooper's Law. This law would state that no matter how much extra time (n) you have scheduled to be somewhere, something will always happen which takes (n+1) time causing late arrival to be unavoidable.

This morning was no different. Almost insufficient gas to make the drive, remembering forgotten race numbers 20 minutes into a 60-minute trip, the subsequent turn-around to get the numbers, and hard-to-find parking at our destination created one of the more memorable race days heretofore experienced. None of the stress and anxiety was alleviated by hearing the air horn starting the first corral of runners... as we were still trying to park!!

Five floors up to the first-available parking spot, five floors down the stairs to the street level, and one massive surge of adrenaline as we heard the announcer set off the final corral of runners. For the first time, we had to actually run to catch our race! Nothing like good adrenal stimulation to get your blood flowing.

Now, safely "in" the race, I passed the second mile marker and made the turn onto the Boardwalk at 2nd Street. It was then I suddenly realized "something wonderful." Today, exactly six months (and 45 pounds) ago, I was running the final portion of my very first athletic event, the Sandman Triathlon (ironically, the last post on this blog as well).

My mind began to spin as I realized the massive distance (ha ha) I'd covered since that debut to the racing world. In those six months, I'd lost an additional 45 pounds, met my lose-100-pounds-in-one-year goal, run my first complete mile and 5k (no walking!), and run a total of ten races: one one-miler, three 5k, two 10k, one 14k, one 15k, one 10-miler, and one 20k.

Today, I was running my eleventh race and tomorrow, I would bump my "running roof" and undertake my longest run yet... a half marathon. Even as I experience these events, it is difficult to realize the actuality of what is happening and what I have done. It's surreal; like none of this really happened.

The aching in my muscles and hips and the gentle cramping sensations in my legs told me this really was happening, I was running my best race ever and wouldn't be too much longer before the finish line loomed before me.

As I rounded the last corner, I could see the huge, inflated finish line about a half-mile away. Time to dig deep. I've always wondered where that last burst of energy comes from and, for me, my constant temptation is to stop running when I can see the finish line, especially that last quarter to tenth of a mile.

And then I remember so many Bible verses and see the faces off the spectators lining the finish chute and the faces of those around me, surging for that final goal. People are watching, cameras are clicking, announcers are waiting... the competitive inside me will not let me stop. Flashes of memories about not fainting the day of adversity, finishing the race set before me, mounting up with wings as eagles, running and not wearying, running patiently.

And then it comes... I can feel it deep (sometimes very deep) inside. My head pulls back from the base and my shoulders drop, square and forward; eyes locked immovably on a point five feet behind the finish line. I feel the energy shift inside as strides become faster and longer, breathing becomes deep and explosive and all aching and pain gets pushed to the background. This is it. This is the finish.

I am aware of those I pass in those last 50-100 feet. Some put in a last burst. Some slow down 20 feet before the finish line. Some start running and stop short of crossing the line, walking instead. Some just walk with no change. I hear the crowds; I hear that swell which comes from excitement and encouragement for one who pushes and finishes strong. I feel the inner urge to let up; to relax, to take a minute. It's almost like being in a glass tunnel; everything muted, misty, and vague - so strong is the focus on that hard finish.

One more stride. One timing clock beep. One last click of the camera. One more smile of victory.

And then I realize... this is how life should be lived.

Day 279: There is No Tri... Only Do!

2010-09-19T23:59:00.001-04:00

A gentle recurring click from the front wheel of my racing bicycle complemented the almost-silent thud of my snack bag as it swayed with my hurried gait. A brisk breeze caught me off guard as it swooped through an alley and swirled around my head... it was 6:30 in the morning and colder then I expected.

Nervously, I glanced down at the heart rate monitor strapped around my left wrist. The clock mode showed I was running behind; way behind. I should have been there thirty minutes earlier. And why, again, did I think it was such a great idea to park in the Ninth Street parking deck? It was two-thirds of a mile from the start and transition area.

Oh, well... couldn't be helped now. I was walking down Atlantic Avenue flanked by several other people. Everywhere I looked, bikes were being wheeled toward the southern end of Atlantic Avenue. Runners jogged by and cyclists whizzed past, fitting in one final warm-up before heading to the starting line.

My thoughts raced wildly as I tried to fight last-minute "monkey brain" and focus on the task before me. I was number 172 in the 28th Annual Sandman Triathlon and, in less than thirty minutes, I would plunge into the Atlantic Ocean and officially begin my first triathlon. I could feel my stomach shrinking by the second as I got my first glimpse of the transition area - hundreds of bicycles and athletes crowded the enclosure.

A request for my racing number brought me to focus on the Sharpie-wielding woman in front of me. Within seconds my right hand, arm, and calf had been marked and two minutes later, I had found and begun to set up my transition area. There wasn't much time left and having set up my gear and collected my timing chip, I began to walk quickly down the boardwalk to the swim start.

The scratchy velcro strap containing the timing chip combined with that where-is-the-nearest-restroom internal feeling I get before any competitive event for increased tension. My watch showed I had five minutes to get to the start line and my body suggested now would be an excellent time to panic.

The sand was cold under my bare feet as I started down the beach, leaving the solid comfort of the boardwalk behind me. I felt lost in the throng of several hundred wetsuited bodies with various color swim caps as they milled behind the flag-designated start. I knew I was in the second wave, starting four minutes behind the first wave of lime green caps. It didn't take long to find the group of blue caps... my group.

Underfoot, the ground trembled slightly as thunderous waves crashed into the beach, a few feet from where we stood. Twenty-five yards off shore, the five-foot red buoy looked like a toy as the waves tossed it effortlessly. I could feel panic trying to settle in my chest as I watched the lifeguards bobbing, their heads looking like so many tiny balls in the roiling sea.

A horn sounded and the elite swimmers took off, racing into the sea with reckless speed. Within seconds, they began swimming and in those seconds, I seriously considered not even entering the ocean. As they swam straight toward the buoy with all their strength, the current effortlessly swept them up the beach and away from their target.

Murmurs of concern rippled through the blue caps as my group began to huddle as far right in the starting area as possible while a bull horn declared we should learn from the struggles of those in front of us. That four minutes seemed like an eternity... four minutes to regard the power of the waves and seriously reconsider what I was doing there on that shore.

Every instinct was screaming to stay away from the waves and yet, this is what I needed to do. I had techniques and presence of mind to deal with passing the breakers, I had the strength and capability to swim well, yet all this vanished at the same speed with which the ground disappeared beneath my feet. This wasn't a race, this was survival. Lifeguards would be useless... they were only human after all. I was on my own. In the sea. Sink or swim.

Prayer is a wonderful thing, even in its most simplistic form. I kept hearing my voice at various points: "Oh, God! Help me do this! Oh, God!" I have never been so disoriented or panicky in the water before, yet somehow, in the middle of swells so large the horizon and enormous buoys were hidden, I began to swim. Fifteen minutes had elapsed since entering the ocean and I realized, swimming against the current and with the growing waves, I would not be able to complete the 1000 meters in the 45-minute limit.

I could quit now. Through my head rang a comment someone had thrown out... at least I wouldn't have to worry about how I would do in the biking and running legs. Every emotion REALLY wanted me to quit and get out of the water, but I fought the rising insurrection within... again. I knew what my stroke should feel like and had gone about 200 meters when lots of screaming and whistles and bull horns sounded all around.

The swim had been canceled because the race directors were afraid they would lose swimmers if the event continued. It took effort to get out of the water as the crashing waves were now propelling me into the shore, but I was happy to exit though disappointed the swim had been canceled.

Along the beach we trotted, not quite sure what would happen next. A quiet beep let me know my time for the "swim" had been noted and volunteers hasted us toward the transition arena with instructions to continue the triathlon as if we'd finished the swim.

Passing the entrance, I noticed the faces I'd been looking for all along... Jason and the boys smiling and cheering for mommy. There were more family and friend faces, too and I felt re-inspired as I scrambled over the cobble ground toward my bike. A splash of water to get the sand off and my wet feet, now encased in socks and sneakers, were ready to go. My bright blue jersey floated over my head and I grabbed my helmet and sunglasses.

Not forgetting to grab a drink and some nutrition, I fastened the buckle of the helmet and slowly jogged my bike out of the transition area. A beep sounded as my anklet passed over the timing mat and the sound of spectators urging the bikers on drove home the reality of what I was doing. I was starting my second leg of the triathlon! This was really happening!

Jason and the boys, along with other family and friends, stood by the exit and exhorted me to keep going. With that encouragement, I stepped onto the bike and set out on the 14.5-mile route. This first tenth of a mile was easy; lots of cheering and yelling. Plenty going on. I had a good pace and though I was disturbed by how many bikers were passing me, I knew what pace I had to keep in order to make it to the end.

At just under three miles, it wasn't fun any more. Very few spectators and very little encouragement was to be found. Additionally, this is when we turned out of Atlantic and on to Shore Drive. The race was on and it was now time to reach inside to find the drive to finish.

Biking is boring and painful, though not as boring and painful as running. It's just slow and somewhat depressing to see how long it takes to cover a certain stretch. I tried not to think about how many miles remained, but just about passing as many people as I could without exhausting myself in the first half.

Miles passed and before I knew it, I was turning around and beginning the return trip to the transition area. I was more than half-way there. My triathlon was half completed! This thought alone spurred me on and I pressed in to maintain a higher rate of speed than the first half. Many people whizzed past but there were others whom I left in the dust, much to my secret delight.

The last mile was the hardest, but I was mentally prepared for it. I knew from past workouts I would be tempted to rest and take breaks since I was "so close" and "almost done." This had to be pushed past and, though it was hard, I kept reminding myself I was almost done and to finish strong.

So it was as I flew around the corner for that final turn leading back into the transition area pen. Jumping off the bike before striding across the timing mat, I heard that little beep for the third time that morning. Grabbing a drink of water and remembering to remove the helmet, I walked on jelly legs to the start of the final leg of the Sandman Triathlon.

Right there to encourage me on were those beloved faces, joined this time by my dad and a couple brothers. That was all it took to break my weary shuffle into a jog. I wanted so desperately to run the entire 5k, but one minute of running convinced me that wouldn't be happening today; something inside hurt... I had been in a car accident Friday night and imagined this was fallout from that. I just needed to finish and that needed to be the primary goal... even if it meant walking the whole way.

That 5k was the true test of the entire triathlon. I'd wanted to quit four or five times during the swim. Biking was okay; not much temptation to quit there, just to slow down. This, however, was more tempting than the other two events. My legs simply did not want to take another step and especially not at the little-over-4-mph pace I was hitting.

Twenty-fourth Street seemed SO far away (I'd started at Second Street) and runners kept passing me. Worse still, people I'd passed on the biking portion were passing me in the run. Ouch! Even worse than that, people who seemed to be in my physical condition and from my number group were passing me. What?! I did try running again, but this time the internal responses were very strong and caused me to stick to the "just finish" goal.

Then the turnaround was right there. Then I was walking around it. All that separated me from that finish line and the completion of my first triathlon was a mile and a half. I was so excited and yet, still couldn't go any faster. I wanted to sit. I wanted to rest. I wanted to walk slower. But I couldn't. People were waiting for me at the finish and even more scary, fewer and fewer people were passing me. That could only mean I was getting really far back in the pack. I did not want to be last.

A quarter of a mile to go and my brother, Sam, appeared out of nowhere. "Run the rest of the way!" I shook my head. "I can't." "Run the rest of the way," he insisted. "I'll run with you." And somewhere, something deep inside lit on fire. I started running.

It hurt. I was out of breath. But I had to finish strong. A tenth of a mile away and I fell into a walk. "I can't do any more." "You're almost there!" Then I saw Jason. He had Peter on his shoulders and was also running along the side path. It had to be done. A strong finish was absolutely necessary. I've finished races before and still had something to give, which meant I had regrets about my performance later... I wasn't going to have that this time.

All I could think of as I heard my feet hitting the pavement and my breathing pattern going in-in, out-out was that verse from Isaiah 40... "Hast thou not known? hast thou not heard... He giveth power to the faint; and to them that have no might he increaseth strength... But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint."

And in that moment, I had the strength to finish... head up, arms up, and running strong, one final tiny beep of the day sealed my first triathlon.

I had finished!

Afternote: My official finish time was 2:10:00.20 - this was 20 minutes faster than I thought I would finish. I placed 19th out of 23 in my group. If you want to see the last 25 seconds of my race, check this link... if you look to the left on the video, you can also see Jason (with Peter on his shoulders) racing through the crowds. :) Another interesting link shows how strong the water was BEFORE the race started... it got much worse 10 minutes after the start.

Day 270: Burning

2010-09-10T09:58:00.002-04:00

As those of you who know me can attest, I frequently set wildly high expectations for myself and when they fail to be met, I crumble into an abject "I failed" mindset... never mind that I encourage others to keep going regardless of their "failures."

Humans are funny.

The day I joined Tidewater Bariatrics, I sat down and figured out just how fast I could lose my excess weight. I figured I had 150 pounds to lose and made calculations for varying levels of weekly weight loss. They said the average per-week loss for a woman was two to four pounds; I figured if I could lose 3.5 pounds per week, I'd meet my goal weight of 150 by 21 April 2011 (42 weeks).

That wasn't fast enough for my liking and, as I sipped on a final glass of Outback Steakhouse Mango Tea, decided to look at a likely-unattainable goal of six pounds per week. That was better and would have me at my goal weight by 23 December 2010. I'd seen people on the Biggest Loser get rid of double digits in one week because of high levels of physical activity. I'd just have to work out more.

The first four weeks proved to match and exceed my hoped-for dream of six pounds per week. Then reality began to hit. Week Five was four pounds, Week Six was five, and Week Seven was a devastating two-pound loss. (NOTE: Two pounds is a wonderful loss... it was just devastating to my six-pound-per-week plan) It was during this seventh week that I achieved an all-time low with eating coupled with an all-time high for exercise - 7,066 calories in (which created an 18,480-calorie BMR deficit, plus 15,090 calories burned working out.

Based on pure mathematical calculations, I should have lost 7.5 pounds that week... but I didn't; I lost two.

Through the Biggest Loser and countless other articles and books I'd read on dieting, I remembered a situation dieters frequently get themselves into. Something called "starvation mode." I also knew every time a contestant on the Biggest Loser would absolutely kill themselves during the week and come up short on the scale, they were counseled to eat more food! When they did, the scale would drop massively the next week.

In my head, this would never happen to me. I wasn't eating too little... at fewer than 1000 calories per day, I wasn't hungry - ever. I wasn't over training... I was paying attention to what my body was saying. Everything was proceeding according to plan and following the mathematical calculations I'd worked out.

Then I noticed something else... I didn't want to eat anymore; nothing. I literally had to force myself to eat whatever was left of my daily minimum food prescription at the end of the day. At the end of Week Seven, I was exhausted and tired all the time. I would take a three-hour nap with the boys and still not have enough energy to get through the day - I wasn't interested in doing anything nor did I want to do anything. My workouts suffered as well; I just didn't have the desire or energy to put in a lot of effort.

Looking for answers, I started researching what happens to your body when you burn WAY more than you take in.

[Note on 8/30/11: Just realized this post had never been activated. It is not complete, but I have published that part which was finished... my apologies for the lack of an ending]

Day 254: Evil-less Love

2010-08-24T23:59:00.003-04:00

"She will do him good and not evil all the days of her life." Proverbs 31:12

"I do not think it means what you think it means."

The original picture I wanted to use for this post I felt might be too disturbing for some readers (not that this is any better), but the message it carried is important nonetheless. It was a simple picture of two skeletons facing each other, locked in a timeless embrace... forever. I think I shall always equate this mental image with that of doing good to my husband for all the days of my life... a thought laden with responsibility and yet guilded with inner joy.

So... why the "demotivational" poster above?

It is hilarious. More so when I realized that over the many years, every time I've read this verse, I've always thought of evil as being the act of doing bad things to your husband. You know, purposefully malevolent acts. Suddenly I discovered; that word does not mean what I thought it meant.

Starting at the beginning, the Hebrew word describing the "good" this woman does to her husband all the days of his life is "towb." This describes good in the broadest, most general sense. All kinds of good; just good in general. Nice stuff.

The word "ra', " or "evil," however, is not the evil I was thinking of. This word - translated as "evil" in the King James Version - has a whole spectrum of meaning. Not only does it have the expected value of bad and natural or moral evil, but "ra' " also refers to a worse or worst, wretchedness, or wrong.

It was the wretchedness of the definition that got me thinking.

I find it so easy to lump my behaviors, especially where my husband is concerned, into this innocuous package which may not have all the expected virtues, but at least I'm not like "that" or I would never consider behaving like "that."

It was upon intropection that I realized the ugly truth. Many of my poor attitudes toward my love monkey, while they do not fall into the moral evil or general badness, do sit smack in the center of wretchedness or wrong. A wretch is a miserable, unhappy, or unfortunate person, thus to be in a state of wretchedness is to be miserable, unhappy, or unfortunate.

I don't believe I have ever really dealt with the true meaning of this verse. I've always kind of skipped over it, patted my brain on the cerebrum and stated for the mental record that I don't have a problem in that area. Yet, how often has a disrespectful response or reluctant behavior, a careless word or a heartless response brought a state of misery to my husband?

This ought not to be. And yet, the woman this man was tasked in finding was one who would do him good - in the complete and generic sense of the word - and not evil - to include inducement of a state of misery or unhappiness - all the days of her life. Not a weekend act, but a lifetime commitment.

I know I will never view this verse the same and I hope the same for each of you. It doesn't matter if you're married or not, these principles still apply. After all, you never know who's looking, now. Do you?

My intention is to shoot higher on the happy meter for my awesome love monkey; he really does deserve a wife who will do him all manner of good and who will refrain from causing grief and misery for as long as she lives.

Definitions and lexicon references taken from scripturetext.com and thefreedictionary.com. Photo courtesy of motifake.com

Day 249: Buttering Up

2010-08-20T14:11:00.010-04:00

"How many sticks of butter have you lost?"

This was the question that greeted me this afternoon on my Facebook page (and that picture IS of fifty pounds of butter). The basic starting premise is that 0.2 pounds of body weight lost is equivalent to getting rid of a stick of butter. That idea seemed interesting... a stick of butter didn't seem that much, until I started adding it all up!

In the past six weeks, I've lost 37 pounds. Going on the idea that 0.2 pounds lost equals one stick of butter, this would mean that every 0.8 pounds lost would be a pound - that's one package as seen in a supermarket near you. I usually go to CostCo which would mean every 3.2 pounds I lose would equate to the four-pound bundle I would frequently purchase (I think I was buying one a month).

End result. I have lost 46.25 pounds of butter. That would be 46 normal packages of butter (plus one stick) or, for the CostCo and Sam's enthusiasts, 11.5 of their four-pound bundles! Yuck! I have this vision of a shopping cart FILLED with butter packs. Look at the top of the page... that's 50 pounds... I'm almost there! Don't get me wrong, I do like butter... but that much is just sick!

Visualization is such a powerful tool when dealing with all sorts of life situations... in particular, what you are putting into your body when you eat. The method of using pictures and comparisons to drill the message home is becoming more and more popular in the weight-loss community as dietitians and doctors use more and more hands-on, in-your-face, blunt comparisons.

Sometimes it comes in book form with lots of pictures showing better choices (Eat This; Not That), sometimes it is the placing of a 25-pound weight on your lap (graphically showing how much weight you've lost), sometimes it is by comparison (that Dairy Queen Caramel MooLatte has the sugar equivalent of twelve Dunkin' Donuts Bavarian Creme Doughnuts).

I know I, for one, never really thought about (or cared) what equivalents I might be eating and I have found visual comparison to be extremely powerful.

Although what I call negative comparison (i.e., this bad food is equivalent to this bad food) is entertaining and has a certain element of shock value, I think I more prefer to go the route of positive comparisons. With these negative comparisons, I find that even if I haven't had the slightest thought of drinking a Starbucks Caramel Frappuccino (not true), seeing a picture of it standing in frosty resplendence next to a glistening stack of its sugar equivalent in freshly-baked Krispy Kreme Original Glazed Doughnuts would not cause me to avoid either of these tasty treats. In fact, my response is quite the opposite: I want to drink the frappuccino (just the tall size...) and THEN go get those tantalizing equivalents (only one or two... I mean, it's not like I'm going to eat the whole box... today...).

What works so much better for me is seeing and understanding what I CAN have. I would rather see the tiny little sugar-free, fat-free, nine-ounce, 720-calorie muffin standing starkly to the left side of an equal sign and see on the right side a 720-calorie spread consisting of a pineapple, half a cantaloupe, half a kiwi fruit, half a papaya, five ounces of grapes, two pears, and two whole wheat rolls! The focus with this description is changing what you choose and getting more for that choice; a swap for the better. So much more powerful than the taunting pictorial comparisons of yummy evil.

Even better is this thought for the day: it is far better to focus on what can be then what cannot be. I have found that to choose to think about - with respect to dieting - what I CAN eat and the creativity which I must bring to bear within those dietary parameters. In day-to-day living, thinking about what I DO have - beautiful family, loving and supportive husband, air condition, running water - instead of things I wish I had makes for such greater contentment and peace within me.

Contentment has been one of my life's greatest challenges and it required God to do some truly out-of-the-box maneuvers to get me to the level of contentment I am today (which is WAAAY more then I ever was). I am no where near perfect, but simple reminders keep me thinking about what I DO have and not on what I WISH I had. Big difference.

Count those blessings! I know I feel better for doing that... positive is in and it's great!

Photos courtesy of cleanliv.in, rawfoodlivingdiet.com, and pictureperfectweightloss.com

Day 246: Spoiler Alert

2010-08-17T20:17:00.003-04:00

"The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her, so that he shall have no need of spoil."
Proverbs 31:11

This is the second article of a twenty-one article series and, as current events would flow, this topic was heavily overshadowed by the events of the day - of course! After the initial hubbub of the morning settled, I started to think about what this verse meant to me... that is when I realized it doesn't mean what I thought it meant.

My initial take on this verse has always been that the dude is so comfortable and trusting of his wife's handling of household and life issues, that he never has to worry about running out of money or basic necessities. In short, his life would never go to waste, or spoil. Though the grammar of the second half of the sentence always bothered me (shall have no need of spoil), I just chalked it up to ye olde English.

I was quite surprised to discover the meaning of this verse doesn't mean that at all!

In the New American Standard, it reads, "And he will have no lack of gain." All the other versions (English) I consulted spoke to the same translation; because of this man's amazing extent of trust and confidence in his woman, he would always have lots of stuff (material possessions, I'm guessing) coming in. The sentence was old English, but I missed the meaning completely! "No need of" means "unlimited supply." Quite a difference.

Of course, this bit of introspection leads me to speculate... if I become more like the woman portrayed in this Proverb, will Jason become more prosperous? I have to wonder. Actually, I would think that this would, in fact, be the case. If he had a supportive wife with whom he could confide his plans and goals, would that loving support lend itself to an increased level of self-esteem and can-do-idness? I shall have to ponder this for application to my own life. Yes.

In Hebrew, the word "leb" refers to the heart of the husband. It not only can refer to the emotions, but also the will and the intellect. This guy is putting everything on the line with this woman... and how many guys do that unless they feel really secure about the solidness of their relationship with and character of their wife?

This is further pointed out in the "doth safely trust" section by the use of the word "batach," which the lexicon translates as "hie (to rush or move fast) to refuge." Not only does this man rush to trust, but he is also bold and carefree in his confidence and hopes as he shares everything with his wife. Wow. That is some serious responsibility on the part of the woman, yes?

And what is it that this man need never experience? The Hebrew word is "chacer," meaning "to lack" and the implication of this word deals with failure, want, a lessening of the current standard. It can also mean bereavement or decrease, even abatement and want.

The most straight-forward word is the one dealing with spoils; "shalal" literally means "booty - prey or spoil." So the spoil I was thinking of - the one dealing with ruin - is not at all the one in the original language... far from it. This kind of spoil is the type one would associate with plundering and pirates; riches and wealth as a reward of some valiant effort by the man.

So put the together the two words - "chacer" and "shalal" - and what we have is a man who will not decrease or abate in the amount of booty coming in. No lessening or failing in the flow of items to enhance life. No want and no taking away of that spoil. This is a picture of a prosperous man.

Granted, times were a bit different then and taking the wealth and riches of those you conquered was a normal and valiant thing to do; it was a status symbol and spoke volumes of your battle prowess - very manly. Even though this would most likely be frowned upon today, think of some potential parallels. A guy who collects his nerve to request his boss to give him the raise for which he is overdue (and he gets it). The men who work hard every day to collect their "spoil" (we know it as paychecks and bonuses). Even very small things, such as a man insisting the matre'd remove the cost of an unsatisfactory meal from the ticket, are a form of battle.

Where there is a battle, there is a victor. How much more can we give to our husbands (those still waiting, to your dads and brothers) in the form of support and confidence. Every man needs a fair maiden to fight for and every man has a deep-rooted desire to be someone's champion and the object of respect.

I know I, for one, have been very inspired by what I learned in this verse today and, ashamedly, I can see just how very far I have fallen... and wouldn't you know, today would be the day when I wasn't the woman in whom my husband's heart could safely rest. Oh, to be perfect... but then, I wouldn't be sharing any of this with you, would I?

Photo courtesy of www.sodahead.com.

Day 242: Wind Breakers

2010-08-13T23:59:00.005-04:00

"Compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses... let us run with patience the race that is set before us."
Hebrews 12:1

I finally did something I've never been able to do before; nor did I think I would ever be able to do it.

I ran for five solid minutes!

Now for those of you amazing athletes out there, I realize this is such a piddly accomplishment. Even for those of you who are of a medium fitness level, this really doesn't seem that amazing. Some may even chuckle in their minds and think I'm shooting low... but put the whole picture into perspective and that five minutes will become an outstanding achievement.

One-and-a-half months ago, running was so far out of my mind and physical capability, I wouldn't have been able to run for fifteen seconds, let alone five minutes! I was morbidly obese with a BMI of 45.8 and had so much "flappage" that running was physically painful and not something I would ever consider.

I think once I had to run with the stroller, having been caught in a torrential and very sudden downpour. I could only run for less than half a minute and less than a tenth of a mile. I didn't have what I needed to run my children the fifth of a mile to our house and to dryness and safety. I had to walk; the incredibly brief run had left me completely winded and embarrassed at how much "flappage" I had.

The past month (and one-half), I have been training seriously to compete in the Sandman Triathlon in Virginia Beach (19 September). Part of this training and the triathlon require that I complete a 5k in a maximum time of one hour. I knew I would need to run at least part of the 5k in order to avoid a "Did Not Complete" tag on my performance... this meant I would need to train.

I've been slowly building up each week and was horrified to find this week dictated I run for nine minutes out of thirty. I had barely completed six out of thirty last week, how was I going to do this this week?!

Jason decided to accompany me on my hour-long, postprandial walk with the boys and, somewhere along the way, further decided he was going to push me to a new level. I felt nothing but dread when I heard him declare we would run for at least two four-minute blocks. I told him I couldn't do it. I'd never run for more than two consecutive minutes.

But Jason thought I could and first coached me through a three-minute run - pushing the little boys in the stroller and counting aloud as he ran beside me. After a recovery walk, I knew it was now or never. I began running. As I reached a minute, I could feel my breath coming a little heavier. At a minute and a half, my legs were begging me to stop; my breath, though measured, was heavy. I wanted to quit... but I kept moving forward, trying to think about anything other than running.

At about two minutes, something amazing happened.

My breathing, still deep, became rhythmic and all my muscles relaxed as I fell into a regular pace. I felt as if I could keep running for hours. No more feelings of fatigue, no more desire to quit, no more beleaguered breathing. Could it be I was experiencing that "second wind" I'd heard and read about people attaining? It certainly seemed like it.

I was elated.

You see, a second wind is something I've wanted badly to experience, but never wanted to push myself far enough to experience it. Normally, I would quit before my body had a chance to fall into a rhythm, thus allowing me to perform at a higher level.

The medical world is still not sure exactly what happens during what has been termed a "second wind." It is not something that can be easily reproduced in a laboratory setting; thereby proving it hard to test the mechanisms at work during this event.

Some think it is what happens when your body begins to take in enough oxygen to combat the effects of lactic acid buildup in your muscles. Others hypothesize a second wind occurs when there is an premature "runner's high" with the early release of endorphins; the happy hormones which create that feeling of euphoria and well-being. A third belief is that it's completely psychological... just encouraging someone in their exercise can bring on a second wind.

Regardless of the actual reason for this phenomenon, it happens... and it happens in areas outside the world of physical exertion.

How many times in my life have I given up when things started getting harder? How many times have I focused on the pain and the discomfort, only to miss out on the good times and blessings ahead? Obviously, I can never know the answer to these questions. What I do know is this: the times I have persevered and pushed through and overcome, no matter what the difficulty, regardless of the pain, and ignoring intense discomfort, I have seen God move in such mighty and un-hitherto-foreseen ways and I have seen amazing things happen in my life.

I know this lesson of the second wind applies to each and every human in this world; for if there were no challenges, how would anyone grow? I believe depth of character comes from pushing beyond that point which you believe you cannot pass, just as physical performance and growth increase from stretching your physical limits. Mountains have a peak, but to get to the peak, there is a lot of uphill battling... some are small, some are seemingly insurmountable; they all have a peak.

I hope this encourages you to find your second wind, no matter what challenge you are facing. With God, all things ARE possible. If your mountain seems unusually steep and impossibly long, keep in mind that it, too, has a peak - you will get there if you do not quit or faint along the way.

Just remember that and remember that if I can help encourage you in any way, please get in touch with me; I love to encourage and I love success stories. I want you to be the next success story. I want to be the next success story myself.

Photo courtesy of: www.motivatedphotos.com/?id=46109

Day 239: Xena-esque Pearls

2010-08-10T11:15:00.005-04:00

After reviewing the statistics for this blog (visitors, when visited, etc.), I realized I could post twice a week instead of only once. I think, also, instead of my usual fare, I'm going to post a series of a projected twenty-one articles over the next twenty-one Tuesdays. Fridays will still contain my weekly Project post; I'm running this as an experiment to see how it does.

"Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies." -Proverbs 31:10

It seems nearly every woman who has a blog or writing outreach at some point writes about the proverbial virtuous woman. Some posts are rote and predictable, others are a-flutter with Victorian lacy-ness and tea cups. I want to do something different.

I will confess. I have never been a fluffy girl and, while opulent luxury impresses and entices me, lace and quirked pinkies never have. Having grown up as the leader of a pack of six boys (and one girl), my interests and pursuits tended toward the intriguingly mysterious and the masculine... on occasion, too much so.

For years I scoffed at "girly" things and carried a thinly-veiled sneer in my heart toward most things feminine, including (flutter, flutter) virtuous womanhood. I never fit in with most girls, tended to avoid large groups of females, and couldn't stand (and yet was attracted to) the giddy gossip and fascination with everything from hair and makeup to listing ideal characteristics of the hypothetical Mr. Right.

Having a fairly conservative and respectable upbringing, it should be no surprise that from my youngest days, I was taught to be a godly young lady (not a bad thing at all). Sadly for me, I chose to subtly buck the system and harbor rebellion toward godly femininity; and it showed. So it should be no surprise to learn the one thing I really hated to hear about was the Proverbs 31 woman.

"Sissy" was the word which scornfully lingered in my mind whenever the topic arose. It wasn't until I was in my mid-twenties that I began to learn some hard and occasionally hurtful lessons all pointing to the fact that guys don't marry "one of the guys" and many men will rise above accepted minimums and treat a woman as a woman if she will let them. Not only that, but men LIKE women to act like women. ::shock::

Around this time, I re-examined Proverbs 31. In verse ten, the whole description starts off with that pressing question: Who can find a virtuous woman? But what exactly does that mean? Is that some princess in a tower, helplessly waiting to be rescued? Is that a forgotten woman stitching hundreds of napkins and tablecloths for her hope chest? Perhaps it is a powerful executive type who earns six figures each year?

Different translations shed a bit of light. Other versions refer to the virtuous woman as excellent, worthy, and valiant. I particularly like valiant; it has such a warrior-esque and triumphant ring to it. To be valiant, one must have valor; a quality of a hero (or heroine), courage or boldness as in battle, bravery, strength.

Then I realized. This namby-pamby, virtuous Proverbs 31 woman I had envisioned for so many years wasn't even close to what was being described here. Dude! The man to whom this letter was written was being advised to actively seek out a really strong woman. Whoa.

In the Hebrew, the word which means "who can find" (maw-tsaw') is not just talking about halfheartedly looking around, it means "to come forth" and "to attain." This is a very purposeful directive to find and acquire this strong woman.

The Hebrew word "chayil" (khah'-yil) is translated in the King James Version as "virtuous," yet the meaning of the original word is so much more powerful - though if you delve into the meaning of the word "virtuous," you will find the same gist. "Chayil" refers to a force. (ooOOoo) What kind of force? This word could be describing a force of "men, means, or resources; an army, wealth, virtue, valor, strength."

Yikes! We're not exactly seeing the description of a sissy. What's even more interesting, the dude was told to go out and find someone who exemplified those strong, powerful characteristics.

Now before you jump up from your desk and run out the door with a tribal Amazonian yell to extol the virtues of Xena: Warrior Princess or Sheena: Queen of the Nile, realize that the last word in the description is "woman."

How do we take such strong, forceful, powerful characteristics and package them as a female that is not "one of the guys"? Good question. I'm still asking that myself and will hopefully delve deep enough in this series of articles to answer those questions for you, but really, I'm hoping for answers for myself.

This blog is about the Ruth Cooper Project, and I do emphasize "project." I am on some sort of journey to find who I am (epic music begins to soar in the background); who did God make me to be? I am so blessed to have each of you as part of my life and as readers and participants in this Project. You are vital; make no mistake about that!

One other thing really struck me from this verse. This valorous woman is valued far above rubies, or so the King James says. Did you know the actual word in the Hebrew is "paniyn" (paw-neen')? This word translates as "pearl" but it also means "redness," thus, I would imagine, the translation into "ruby." That bothered me, because I've always thought of pearls as cream or pastel; so what's with the redness denoted in the translation?

Well. I researched and discovered that ancient pearl fisheries were mainly in what we know today as the Persian Gulf and the Red Sea. Living in these areas is a large, fairly delicate oyster known as "pinna" or "wing-shell" in Hebrew. Occasionally, this particular type of oyster produces a translucent pink pearl; something that was so rare its rarity caused it to be highly prized and therefore, extremely valuable.

Pearls, throughout history, have been regarded as symbols of purity, innocence, honesty, harmony, and wealth... even a symbol of Jesus Christ himself. There are no pearls in the precious stones forming the foundation of the heavenly Jerusalem, there are no pearls in the breastplate of the high priest... pearls are used when referring to sharing the salvation message (pearls) with those not ready to receive it (swine) and when describing the very gates of heavenly Jerusalem itself.

All this rich symbolism and I think my favorite comes from the very construction of the pearl itself. No pearl is made without great irritation and pain to the oyster in which it resides. The pearl is the result of the oyster dealing with an irritating bit of sand or grit; and the transformation from irritant to lustrous beauty is breathtaking.

This is how I want to be. I want to be that strong, brave, and powerful woman that shines with the luminous glow of feminine beauty. I want the world to see the transformation God has worked within me; taking my hard edges and pain and irritations and transforming that into soft, glowing visage... something priceless and something my husband will treasure.

Jason worked very hard to have me be his wife... he went out and saw someone he wanted to spend his life with (me... ::giggle::). That wasn't the end of the story; it was just the beginning. He persevered, he fought, he persisted and after the longest two-and-one-half years, he acquired that which he desired. He saw something of value and I want to be sure I am (and continue to develop into) that strong little pearl he believes me to be.

Being a virtuous woman is not easy and is certainly NOT for sissies or the faint-of-heart.

Day 235: The Axiom of Choice

2010-08-06T12:14:00.001-04:00

Through the still quiet of the pre-dawn darkness came the ultimate sound of irritation: the incessant beeping of the alarm clock. What a nasty way to be awoken from the deepest of sleep and what dark ruminations exist toward the inventor of such a fiendish creation. Emerging from a sleepy fog, the call of the gym and the workout becomes more clear and with it a dilemma... or is it a choice?

I'm sure all of us at one time or another have experienced the [insert emotion here] of being awoken by an alarm clock, and I have to wonder how many people (except for those few perfect ones) have a love-hate relationship with that bit of electronics. I've been grateful for the alarm. I've been angry. I've been disappointed. I've been discouraged. I've even been delighted to hear that garish beep.

So let's face it. Could it be that the issue lies not with the alarm itself, but with each of us as individuals? Could it be that our response to that call to awaken arises, not from that lowly item, but from a plethora of emotions and thoughts which occur, sometimes, even before we go to sleep.

I find it ironic that I had planned most of the week to write on this particular topic.

Ironic because I had set my alarm for five this morning, giving me enough time to awaken, dress, and get to the gym by half past. This was important because Jason needed to leave the house at eight after seven, giving me 1.5 hours at the gym. This meant I would be able to just barely do my cycling and swimming for the day, but not the weights. I would have to be very punctual and have minimum transition times to accomplish this.

Well... the alarm went off at five. I snoozed it for ten, knowing I still had plenty of time. Saw the clock read twenty past and then I did it; I rolled over and re-enveloped myself in the warm and inviting down comforter and soft, fuzzy pillow. Yes, I got some more sleep (which I did actually need), but there were consequences.

I am now behind a full day of my training schedule and will have to make it up. Usually this means my Saturday - which I have allocated as my Rest Day - becomes a normal workout day because I took Friday off. ::sigh:: Not only that, but I miss out on the benefits of working out in the morning (perhaps I shall speak on those in a later post).

What happened? I lost focus of WHY the alarm was set in the first place. I needed to get up with the alarm because I'm working on losing weight. To lose weight, I'm following a training schedule which will culminate in a triathlon. To follow that training schedule for today, I needed to be up by five. Kinda sounds like the kingdom being lost for want of a nail, yes? Today, I was only thinking of the self-centered, emotion-of-the-moment reason for turning the alarm clock off and staying in bed.

How often does this happen in our lives? Where have we switched our focus from the longer-vision WHY we are doing to the more instant gratification and emotions of the moment? This perspective on life and our actions in that life applies to so many areas. WHY can't you have that slice of cake? WHY can't you buy that cute pair of shoes? WHY are you forbidding your child to whine?

These questions, when taken alone, seem depriving and depressing. It is only when the big picture is added back in and the WHY is answered that things make sense and lose that seemingly depriving state. I can't have that slice of cake because I am choosing to regain my pre-wedding weight. I can't buy that cute pair of shoes because I want to be debt-free. I am forbidding my child to whine because in life, whining is not the correct way to deal with disappointment or frustration.

As I thought last night about what I would share with you today, I had determined I would share with you my own personal success in this area: the area of focusing and acting on your WHY. ::tiny trumpet sounds in the background:: Instead, after this morning, I realized I only had a failure to share...

The old me would have drowned this failure in a blueberry biscuit or two from Hardee's, would have reveled in depression and posted a dismal Facebook status update, and most likely would have "boosted" my crushed spirits and faltering morale with a "comforting" full-spread Outback steak dinner.

That, however and thank God, is not me any more.

True, I did not meet the goal I set for myself this morning. Is that a reason for abject depression and abandonment of my exercise and weight-loss goals? Absolutely not. Instead, I admit I made a mistake and now I will move forward to have a productive, positive day with resolve to improve on tomorrow's performance.

All of life is a choice. Every single event you face, you have a choice. You are never the victim. I find it more and more like my mom used to tell me, "It doesn't matter what anyone else does, it only matters what you do." I have taken that little saying and have applied it to my own standard of living: I cannot control what others do to or around me, but I certainly can control how I respond in ANY given situation.

This week, I challenge you. I want you to choose and control your responses to the "slings and arrows of outrageous fortune... [the] sea of troubles... the heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to." Remember (or, in some cases, discover) your WHYs and reform your thoughts and responses to the minutia of life. It's your life; chose to live it well.

Day 228: There Is No Try

2010-07-30T15:46:00.001-04:00

Well... I've gone and done it now. As of 2:37 this afternoon, I am officially registered as a participant in the 28th Annual Sandman Triathlon in Virginia Beach.

Sometime between 7:30 and 8:06 on the morning of September 19th, I and 357 other people (so far) I have never met will plunge through the Atlantic surf and set out on a 0.62-mile (1k) ocean swim, 14-mile bike ride, and 3.1-mile (5k) run. The whole thing should not take more than three hours, and I'm hoping it will take significantly less - I'm aiming for half that.

I have never done anything even remotely like this in my entire life.

Having actually registered and actually paid real money for this event, I am walking the bridge which lies over the Knowing-Doing Gap.

Everyone knows about this famous chasm. On the one side reside the many hundreds of thousands of people who know what they should do, who know what it will take to achieve their dreams, who have a plan to complete their goals. I don't care how small the goal is. Perhaps it is as small as resolving to take a shower today or to make it to the post office before they close. Maybe it's a bigger goal. To pay off that $5000 credit card debt or lose fifty pounds. What if the desired end is enormous? To become independently wealthy, to have paid off the house, to earn a doctorate degree?

So many dreams and goals and desires. Do you know what the sad thing is? How many of these dreams, goals, and desires will remain just that? Look over at the other side of the chasm and how many people do you see there? True, there are many... but not as many as are on the Knowing side of the gulf.

Here's more of a mind-blower. This chasm already has a bridge built over it. There exists a way to get from "I wish" to "I have" and it is so simple. You must DO something. You can't just sit back and think about what you're "going to do" or what you're "planning to accomplish." No. You must actually DO something.

Taking a shower requires that you actually step inside the shower and perform the necessary ablutions. Paying off a credit card requires that you not only set aside the necessary funds, but also that you actually pay those savings on the card. Becoming independently wealthy requires that you change your current outlook on life and corresponding actions. In my case, losing weight requires that I actually stop overeating and start exercising.

For me, it has taken years and years and years of frustrated wishing. So many times, I tried on some article of clothing and hated the reflection in the mirror. So many times I imagined I was that trim, slim person who could wear any clothes and never have to worry about whether certain lumps or bulges were covered. Let's not even mention how many times I thought about eating better after I'd finished an over-large, high-calorie meal.

In Proverbs we are told that "hope deferred maketh the heart sick." So true and yet, how many times have each one of us lolled in the land of the heart sick and wished and longed for things we actually could do something to achieve? I realize there are situations which can be wished and hoped for, but whose end result is not something we can affect. I want to make it clear I am not talking about those. I am talking about situations where we can do something.

I have been dieting with Tidewater Bariatrics for three weeks and training for my upcoming triathlon for two weeks now and I am starting to see some very interesting emotional and mental changes taking place.

Food is no longer something I expend much thought on any more! No more daydreaming about what I will have for dinner and dessert. No more fantasizing about which restaurant I can persuade Jason to bring home dinner from. No more strategizeing to ensure my errand routes take me past a desired fast food stop. Do you have any idea how much time is spent thinking about food in your day? I was shocked to find out how much I thought about food.

Not only does food not run my life any more, but exercise is finding a regular and, I might add, welcome place in my daily routines. Fearing the boredom I have so oft experienced when attempting to work out more, I thought about what I could do to keep things interesting. The YMCA has a cool system by which you earn points for logging your exercise and that's cool. But I wanted something more.

A triathlon.

Okay... I admit I'm a bit of an overachiever. However, I looked at the maximum times given to complete the three seperate legs of the triathlon and realized I was already close to being able to meet those max times already. One night, a half-mile swim in the pool convinced me I could do this. When I mentioned to Jason I was thinking about doing the Sandman Triathlon, I also threw in the caveat that I was planning to wait until the end of August before committing/registering in the event.

His response was one of wisdom. Jason told me to register immediately for the triathlon and THEN train for it, thereby giving me a serious point of responsibility as well as giving me an interesting reason for doing the exercise I was doing. That shook me a bit, but I did it. I took my first step on that bridge spanning the Knowing-Doing gap and I have never looked back.

I found a basic three-month triathlon training program online and set out DOING each daily routine. I find I don't think about what I have to do any more; I just DO it. Read the workout tasks for the day and check them off when I'm done.

Eighty degrees at 5:30 in the morning and I have a 3.2-mile walk/run ahead of me? No longer do I spend the previous night and precious time that morning thinking about how hot it will be, how sweaty I will get, how uncomfortable I will feel, how far away from home I have to go (I have a thing about walking long distances away from my house).

Now, I might enjoy the bed for a couple of extra minutes, but then I actually do get up, really get dressed, walk outside for real, and totally DO my workout. I have chosen not to have failure as a mindset any longer. And the effects of thinking that way about my daily workouts are spreading.

Food: I eat three meals a day. I have planned out the day before what I will eat and when; eating then becomes a check-off list.

Household chores: Order and cleanliness is on the rampage through our house. I started with a couple of areas (Jason actually made the initial push to get them spotless. ::smile::) and not only have purposed to maintain that cleanliness, but actually maintain. The kitchen was first, then the dining room, then Peter's room, then the living room and Jason's desk. I'm not perfect, but I'm working on it.

Kids: I am becoming more and more consistent as new two-year-old challenges rise to my attention daily! I don't think about what an inconvenience it is to deal with wrong actions (or even daily necessities), I just DO whatever I need to. It seems Peter and Mikey are starting to reap the benefits of this as well. Hehe.

Doing is so much more powerful then thinking or purposing or planning or dreaming or wishing. The new levels of happiness and self-confidence that come with doing what you know is right are something I never want to be without again. Even looking at weight progress pictures I'd taken in January and seeing the difference in how I'm standing and (what hit me most strongly) the life that is now in my eyes.

January's pictures captured the eyes and face of someone who felt trapped and miserable; who wanted to change, but didn't want to actually do anything; someone who dreaded each new day and couldn't think past her many failures. Yesterday's pictures showed something completely different. There's a new spark and life. Yes, I'm not where I want to be yet on so many levels, but I'm DOING something about it. And that, I think, makes all the difference!

I'm standing on that bridge which traverses the perilous Knowing-Doing Gap. There is so much room here... you should come and stand with me. Hurry though... I won't be standing long; I'm moving as fast as I can to the other side.

Day 225: Does Your Life Have a Soundtrack?

2010-07-23T23:59:00.001-04:00

Hey, did you know 225 is the square of 15?

Okay, so maybe that would be more appropriate for a math-oriented blog... this is clearly a health and fitness blog right? On the surface, that is true. Below the surface, there lurks the beautiful world of numbers and math.

Those of you who know me will most likely remember that I LOVE math and numbers. But before anyone's eyes turn glassy and roll up behind your eyelids, just relax. I'm not going to descend into the realm of heavy math. Smile. Breathe deeply. Relax.

Saturday, 24 July 2010 marked the supposed endpoint of the Ruth Cooper Project.

I started this blog in December of 2009 when one of my best friends invited me to be a bridesmaid in her wedding. I've always wanted to be a bridesmaid and if I had been a bridesmaid in as many weddings of friends that I've attended over the years, I could easily have starred in the movie 27 Dresses myself!

While this news thrilled me, a simultaneous explosion of terror ran through me: I would have to wear a formal dress! To most people, this would not be a big deal. To me, having just given birth to my second son a month before and still carrying the 115 extra pounds from Son Number One, this was bad news. My standard wardrobe at the time consisted of faded maternity t-shirts and two pairs of maternity pants - one velvet, the other stretch.

Something had to change, and fast, if I wanted to be stunning at my friends wedding.

I figured if I applied myself, I could get very close to my goal weight by the time of the wedding... and yet, as the Chronicles of Ruth show, I never managed to keep my focus on the dieting or exercising to the extent needed. Yes, I lost 30 pounds using various techniques. Yes, I started working out more. Yes, I was feeling and moving better then I had been.

The truly shameful thing is this: during my several months of silence on this blog, I gained back every pound. That's right... every single pound. The embarrassment I felt at stepping on the new analog scale and watching the needle sail effortlessly by the "maximum" weight tick mark was so incredibly depressing and more often than not, sent me in search of something comforting - at that time: Outback steak, sweet potatoes, bread and butter, and mango tea.

Wouldn't you know, though? During that two or three months, this blog and the responsibility I felt to all of you who have worked so hard to support and encourage me in emotional and financial ways (I still haven't forgotten one of you paid for six months at the YMCA) forced me to get back on track.

I am back on track.

Today, I realized more than ever that I have made some serious life-style changes. Not only in the mind realm, but also in the physical realm. Although I was no where near the weight I had hoped to be at my friend's wedding, I had already taken drastic steps to ensure I would one day experience that goal. Since my enrollment in the Tidewater Bariatrics program on 11 July 2010, I have already seen 21 pounds of weight melt off and over 12 inches of girth disappear.

Did that weight really melt off and did those inches really disappear?

No.

There is a great deal of purposeful dedication and many conscious choices behind these successes.

Success stories aren't fuzzy and rarely are they glamorous. Sure, there are the few that are stunning and breathtaking. They are the ones that make you envision your path to your goal as one of those overly-inspiring, chest-puffing, back-straightening, emotion-swelling, inspirational-soundtrack video montages on all those overly-inspiring, chest-puffing, back-straightening, emotion-swelling, inspirational-soundtrack epic films out there.

I mean, seriously... who isn't with Rocky as he trains for his comeback? Who isn't with Braveheart as he travels the countryside rallying men to his cause? Who can resist wanting to join Cuba Gooding, Jr. as he sweats through his military and diver training? Who among the math geeks and nerds can fail to be inspired to solve the unsolvable with John Nash (especially with that soundtrack!!)? Finally, who can hold back a tear or still their heart rate as the 1924 Olympic team experiences the result of thousands of hours of pain, tears, and sweat?

If the hard parts of life could happen in an inspiring montage, complete with swelling soundtrack, I'd be a sleek, muscular, lithe athlete. [Standing in front of a mirror, I have to chuckle at this]. The point I'm trying to make is this: we are not in a finished film production. There is no montage yet. The soundtrack hasn't been written and there are no glamorizing filters. Right now, we are in the very middle of making our montage possible.

I believe there cannot be great things without great investment.

So when you're feeling discouraged, think about your favorite "success movie training montage" and then think just a little bit more about the sheer amount of dedication, ups, downs, triumphs, failures, excitements, disappointments, laughter, tears, joys, and depressions that made up that character's success montage.

Success doesn't just happen; you have to want it.

[In case you were wondering, the films I referenced above were, in order: Rocky Balboa, Braveheart, Men of Honor, A Beautiful Mind, and Chariots of Fire.]

Day 217: Go Waste, Young Man... Go Waist

2010-07-16T23:59:00.001-04:00

I heard a story - and maybe you have, too - about a man who had worked for many years for a construction company. He worked selflessly and hard, but eventually he had had enough and went to his boss. After explaining that he was ready to retire, his boss requested that he do one last favor for him and build one final house.

Reluctantly, this man begrudgingly built the final house; cutting corners and doing shoddy work. The house was finished quickly... perhaps too quickly... and the man's boss came for a final inspection. At the conclusion of the inspection, the man left the house with his boss who took a folded piece of paper and handed it to him. His boss mentioned how much he had appreciated his work over the years and to please accept this gift in gratitude for all his hard work and diligence.

As the boss walked away, he left a stunned man looking down at a set of brand new house keys.

Now think about the human race. We stroll blithely through our lives in the most amazing and complicated collection of mechanics and systems ever created; so balanced and so fragile, yet so absurdly resilient and diverse - the human body. We have been given such a gift in the form of the human body and yet we think nothing of it and treat it with such disrespect.

What about this idea... you are building and shaping the house you live in. Now think... what kind of job are you doing?

Last week, I made a huge and significant commitment to losing the rest of my excess weight; I joined Tidewater Bariatrics' Decision Free diet plan. Tidewater Bariatrics is a weight-loss clinic providing rapid weight-loss programs with medical supervision and high levels of accountability and support - they even supply the food you eat.

I went through medical and psych evaluations, talked with the doctor and nurses, and had lots of labs and medical panels drawn. Needless to say, I was absolutely fascinated by the entire process. I love numbers and data and medical stuff; this was right up my alley. Results of the labs reported I was in good health, with all numbers (except for my weight) being good. I did have a Vitamin D deficiency (a 14 when 35 is normal). Apparently, many overweight people going for gastric bypass surgery suffer from a Vitamin D deficiency and I have to wonder if their obesity is linked to the depression and low energy that surfaces as a symptom of Vitamin D deficiency. Feeling low? Might want to get that checked.

Anyway.

Yesterday I completed my first week of official dieting and have decided I love this program. There is so much accountability and so many ways to share your successes and progress that I find myself quite motivated, not only to participate, but also to lose weight and remain compliant with the program.

Every week, we have a two-hour class to educate us on various areas of weight loss... both physical and mental aspects. Honestly, I was arrogant enough to think that I already knew what we were going to talk about this past evening. I have a lot of curiosity and some training in the medical arena and I assumed that since the group leader had said we were going to talk about proper choices in eating that I already had a firm handle on what she was going to say.

I was not prepared for the depth of insights I gained while in class that night!

During the course of the evening, the topic of discussion turned toward fantasizing and dreaming about food. As a patient of Tidewater Bariatrics, you have a limited amount and variety of food from which to choose and the temptation to imagine what you will eat when off the diet is strong, as is desiring food that you may not have if you wish to be compliant.

I giggle here because every time I hear (or read) the word "compliant," I have a visual of being strapped into a cyborg suit and regeneration chamber or of tottering mechanically through a green-hued, smokey atmosphere while hearing a multi-layered mechanical voice proclaim, "We are the collective; you will comply."

But I digress...

What struck me so strongly was the propensity for people to dwell on food in their minds. So... they're not eating it anymore, but what are they still doing? Dreaming and fantasizing and desiring. Wait. What is wrong with that? Could it be that food is taking the place of things we should be dreaming about? of goals that we could be achieving? of relationships with family and friends we should be nurturing?

How many times have you heard someone say they "love" a particular food item or that a certain toothsome pastry "made their day"? What about the whole "I'd kill for a donut and coffee right now" mentality? Or "I was dreaming about eating this chocolate cake allllll day today." Can you see how this is just a little bit wrong?

Here's a more frightening thought. Is this the group of people Paul was talking about in Philippians? Those who were "the enemies of the cross of Christ: whose end is destruction, whose God is their belly, and whose glory is in their shame, who mind earthly things."? Perhaps what alarms me the most is: Am I one of those people?

So save your daydreams and fantasies for actual people and goals. Food won't love you back. You cannot have a normal, human-style relationship with comestibles. Stuff you eat should never be a life goal. Also, if you are plugging in relational gaps between you and your loved ones - spouse, children, relatives, friends - with food, you are not fixing anything or solving root issues. What is worse, it's like painting over mildew so everything will "look" beautiful.

We are each building the house we live in.

What kind of house are you building?

Day 210: An End unto a Beginning

2010-07-12T12:46:00.000-04:00

What is it about control?

I didn't realize I had control issues until the past week. Actually, I rather suspected I had some control issues, but never pinned a label on myself and accepted the title of "Control Freak." In so many areas, I have worked hard to yield my desire to dominate and control to my husband, my employers, etc. and have succeeded in many ways... save one.

Food.

This past week, I have taken an extreme plunge into weight loss and have made some serious commitments and life changes (which I will detail later), but that is not what I want to focus on first. I want to explore the lies we (me specifically) tell ourselves about food and our relationship with it.

Last week, I underwent a full panel of medical tests and behavioral analysis in preparation for my next step in the Ruth Cooper Project. Everything seemed to be going well and, being a huge fan of The Biggest Loser, I kept flashing to the many contestants I'd seen as they underwent the same type of testing and evaluation I was undergoing and wondering why it was that so many of them ended up in tears as they spoke of the life circumstances that led them to gain as much as they had.

As the testing drew to a close, I began to congratulate myself on having had no emotional breakdown. All answers were given clearly, succinctly; my personal medical knowledge made it easier for the nurses and doctors to explain issues to me; no tests returned unexpected results - everything was wonderful.

And then I sat down with the primary doctor to go over my file and tests. Very matter-of-factly, she asked brief questions about my relationship with food. Some questions I picked out immediately as being psych profiling and in other questions, I recognized information I'd previously supplied coming back at me in odd ways. None of this caught me off guard or surprised me until she asked me a couple of questions.

The first question had to do with self-esteem and did I eat to make myself feel better or use food to reward my actions. I had to answer yes. Was anyone expressing dissatisfaction with my weight? No. All my self-loathing in this area came directly from me - no one, family member or friend, had ever mentioned how heavy I was. Shocked, I watched her type the term "self abuse" into her notes. Was that true? Was I really abusing myself? I had never before thought of what I was doing in "clinical" terms.

The questions continued and I could feel a bit of emotional shock. Did I eat differently when alone? Yes. I had recently started eating "normally" around other people (including Jason) and eating out-of-control when no one was watching. Did I hide food? At this, my brain felt as if it had stopped working. I'd never really thought of it as hiding food. A donut eaten before arriving at home. A candy bar placed under my desk so Jason wouldn't find it. A piece of chocolate cake smuggled home and never mentioned. Granted, this was a recent occurrence, but that shouldn't be happening at all!

The doctor continued typing and I could feel remorse welling up inside me, thinking about the poor eating decisions I had made over the past two years. A pause in the typing and she turned to me, mentioning that even though I had a dislike of medications and had eschewed them for my whole life, I was still self medicating. I nodded and responded that I had been doing it with food. Perhaps she was looking for a bit of denial because she pressed in and likened the overeating with "food-crack". Again, I agreed quickly, stating that I could see how that would be an appropriate analogy. My guess is that many patients there are still in denial about how they use food and why they overeat... I'd spent too much time thinking about how I got here... and the doctor said that was a good thing.

I have used food because I wanted to be in control; food was the ONE thing in my life I COULD control and I abused that power over and over.

I got married and suddenly, there was no check or accountability on what I could eat or have in the house - after all, I was the one making dinner and shopping for groceries. This weak start in the self-control department only spiraled as God shaped my life (and as I fought against it by eating).

With so many major life changes over the past three years - engagement, wedding planning, honeymoon, marriage, one child, house purchase and move, second child (and, yes, all this has happened in the past three years) - my self-absorbed response to all these changes I could not (keyword here) CONTROL, was to alter the thing I could control and that was my eating.

I controlled it, all right... I controlled to the point where I now weigh 120 pounds more than I did the day I got married two-and-a-half years ago!

Again, I truly didn't realize just how bad I've been until Jason asked me the other day to throw out or give away ALL foods in the house that would not be permitted on our new diet (and that Peter and Mikey won't eat). I fought his request strongly, even with tears. Then God graciously revealed the truth of this conflict: my desire to keep food in the house was because I still wanted to keep some control over my food. At that dawning of truth, I broke and realized I was a control freak and at the very heart of every matter was a refusal to yield either to God or my husband. As long as I had food to control, I would fairly easily comply with requests and directives... and pride myself on being "flexible."

Since last Thursday, when all this began, mine has been a life turned up-side-down. But then again, isn't that when God is able to move in interesting and wonderful ways.

Now, the food is gone and I am, perhaps for the first time in my life, ready to seek new methods for coping with life's stresses.

Day 123: Niiice...

2010-04-16T23:59:00.000-04:00

Days remaining: 100
Pounds remaining: 123.5
Inches lost/gained this past week: -7.0
Pounds lost/gained this past week: -6.5
Percentage weight loss this past week: -2.32%

Total pounds lost: -29.5
Total inches lost: -28.5

The morning began with no apparent change;
my weight was staying inside a certain range.
And deep within, I thought, Grr... that is so strange?!
So, brooding aside, my new day to arrange.

Ensuring no duty received a shortchange,
the day with all it's tasks I to prearrange.
Yet later, my heart hoping for a sweet change,
upon scale I saw six pounds for exchange.

Those welcome results threw me for a huge loop;
news I could share heartily with my blog group.
That number erased from my sad eyes a droop
as I bounded from the scale with a loud whoop!

[And, yes, I do apologize for forcing you to experience baaaaaad poetry]

Day 113: Living the Miracle

2010-04-06T23:59:00.001-04:00

Days remaining: 110
Pounds remaining: 130.0
Inches lost/gained this past week: -2.5
Pounds lost/gained this past week: -4.5
Percentage weight loss this past week: -1.58%

Total pounds lost: -23.0
Total inches lost: -21.5

Wow! This has been an amazing three weeks! Even though we are still doing the Candida diet, the weight loss I have been experiencing can be attributed to nothing short of miraculous! For fourteen weeks, I struggled to lose ten little pounds... ten irritating pounds which were lost and gained over and over for FOURTEEN WEEKS!!!

I would soar on the wings of anticipation and encouragement with each loss only to get depressed and discouraged with each weight gain; all dutifully noted and recorded at the end of each week. I fumed, I pouted, I vilified the scale, I overate, I complained... and then I prayed. Desperately, I asked for help sticking to a diet and exercise regimen and for a miracle.

Then one day, a friend prayed for me to experience miraculous weight loss. And I believed. The first week showed an 11.5-pound drop and the second week gave a 4.5-pound loss. I lost more in three weeks than I had lost in the previous fourteen!! God truly does answer prayers and has been giving the strength to stick with the eating changes we've made (and the increased level of exercise).

Now, in response to the number of people who have expressed concern over proper nutrition while eating according to the Candida diet, rest assured. Putting it the way I did makes it sound unhealthy - taking away wheat, yeast, sugar, dairy, and caffeine - but let's look at it from the side of "what can be eaten."

While on the Candida diet, basically meat and vegetables are what you get, with an occasional low-sugar fruit thrown in for good measure. Many grains other than wheat are acceptable: buckwheat, oats, quinoa, brown rice, amaranth, barley... all low-gluten. Fish, chicken, lean beef, and various fowl can be found in the meat area. The Candida diet supports healing and detoxification and is not a permanent eating plan and we will be eating this way until the end of July, the goal end of this Project.

So, to sum up. Basic hunter-gatherer diet. Lots of veggies and meats. Nice clean foods without a lot of processing. Easier to digest and, once you've eaten this way for a little bit, some foods that are bad for you actually taste bad (or not as good as you remembered). Sweet things become nauseating in some cases or taste chemically.

Turns out, Jason and I have very mild cases of candida overgrowth, so we're not anticipating remaining on the diet beyond the end of July. It is, however, suggested that for increased health and reduced risk of candida overgrowth recurring, to follow an 80-20 plan. For 80% of the time, eat according to the diet. The other 20% of the time can be "other foods" allowances. The 80-20 plan gives freedom and forgiveness for any slip-ups or conscious choices along the way.

An example? For some reason, I have recently fallen in love with soft serve and Starbucks ice cream and ice cold, juicy pears (not together). Unfortunately, the diet forbids dairy and frowns upon pears (they're in the 80% list, though). Solution: We eat according to the diet through the week proper and make a valiant attempt to do so on the weekends. If we do vary, we try to just pick one item to splurge on instead of going hog wild.

Does it work? The results are speaking for themselves!

So. God is amazing. Candida overgrowth is dying. No malnutrition is taking place.

Day 106: Diet Hard (Whee!): With a Vengeance

2010-03-30T23:59:00.000-04:00

Days remaining: 117
Pounds remaining: 134.5
Inches lost/gained this past week: -2.75
Pounds lost/gained this past week: -11.5
Percentage weight loss this past week: -3.89%

Total pounds lost: -18.5
Total inches lost: -19.0

Well... let's just say the past several weeks have been horrible from the Project's point of view! I don't ever remember hitting such a diet low. This is the post I always dreaded would need to be written and yet knew would have to be shared to ensure Project integrity.

I'm not sure what happened, but I do know the diet was boring and I wasn't interested in finding out new and creative ways to enjoy low-calorie foods which led to a sort of funk and lethargy from which I never fully recovered.

In retrospect, it seems all the snow threw a curveball into everyday life. Snow, to me, bespeaks hot chocolate with whipped cream, fresh chocolate chip cookies, movies, lounging around - a holiday atmosphere. Unfortunately, these delights are not in line with gym time, reduced calorie eating, and gallons of sweat.

I wanted to quit so badly and then one day, I actually did. A pan of rice krispie treats with chocolate chips was way too easy to make and once I tasted them, I didn't stop. Mouthful after mouthful of buttery, chocolaty, chewy goodness went down accompanied with thought after thought of what I was going to have to say about this major infraction.

I think I just shut down. For weeks, the same 5-8 pounds have been lost and gained and I had not been able to drop below a certain plateau line; no matter what. All diets got tossed out the window and I did go back to eating whatever I wanted to eat... almost.

To my delight, I was okay with making more healthful choices and choosing the smaller portion sizes and enjoying them just as much as if I had eaten a much larger portion. Examples? Previously, I would have gotten a venti Java Chip Frappuccino and now I found myself quite content with a tall size instead. Skipping dessert, eating more veggies, cutting back on carb portions just a little, and scaling back subsequent meals after a large indulgence were all tactics I tried.

Soon, it became apparent to me that I needed to get a grip and do something drastic. Through various circumstances, it became clear that the next step was to go on the Candida Diet. What does that entail? Well... imagine a way of eating that removes all wheat, corn, yeast, sugar, dairy, most fruit, and (horror of horrors) caffeine. That is the Candida Diet.

So our whole family is now on the diet and yes, there are things you can still eat... it boils down to meat and vegetables and not much else. On the plus side, this diet is designed to kill yeast overgrowth. Granted, none of us have a serious issue, but this will kill that overgrowth and, we're hoping, will give us more energy and smaller girths as a result. Even Peter is seeing benefits, though I must admit to the difficulty in having removed Cheerios, crackers, mac and cheese, hot dogs, and bread from the little man's diet.

We started Monday (22 March) and I have already lost 11.5 pounds!! I'm back in the gym, am losing inches, and am newly inspired to get this weight off. I have broken through that plateau barrier I couldn't break before and am excited to see what will happen next.

It's not easy doing this particular diet, but I know it will do wonderful things for our family. Thank you, my faithful readers, for your concern and encouragement to get this blog back up and running. It really is because of you and your participation in my Project that I haven't given up completely and a major contributing cause to the reinvigorating of this blog.

Moving on!

Day 102: In a Slump

2010-03-26T23:59:00.000-04:00

Days remaining: 121
Pounds remaining: 146.0
Inches lost/gained this past week:
Pounds lost/gained this past week: +4.5
Percentage weight loss this past week: +1.54%

Total pounds lost: -7.0
Total inches lost: -16.25

Day 95: Barely There

2010-03-19T23:59:00.000-04:00

Days remaining: 128
Pounds remaining: 141.5
Inches lost/gained this past week:
Pounds lost/gained this past week: +3.5
Percentage weight loss this past week: +1.22%

Total pounds lost: -11.5
Total inches lost: -16.25

This week stank... huge slump... more details in more recent post... just wanted the data posted here to be consistent-ish.

Day 87: Just the Data

2010-03-11T23:59:00.000-05:00

Days remaining: 136
Pounds remaining: 138.0
Inches lost/gained this past week: -1.00
Pounds lost/gained this past week: -2.5
Percentage weight loss this past week: -0.86%

Total pounds lost: -15.0
Total inches lost: -16.25

This was an amazing week... and the drop in weight FINALLY let me drop into a new weight zone, breaking the 5-7 pound range I was stuck in!

[This post has been WAY postdated. I felt it was important to post the data I had collected on that date.]

Day 79: Better Late Than Never

2010-03-03T23:59:00.001-05:00

Days remaining: 144
Pounds remaining: 140.5
Inches lost/gained this past week: +0.25
Pounds lost/gained this past week: -1.00
Percentage weight loss this past week: -0.34%

Total pounds lost: -12.5
Total inches lost: -15.25

Well... this posting is waay later than I was hoping to post it, but I felt it was important to put up the results from the last week.

Progress is so slow and I'm thinking of shaking things up a little. It seems when the weight goes down, the inches go up and when the inches go down, the weight goes up. Granted, when there is a gain of around 0.25 inches, usually that means there has been a significant loss at a couple of measuring points.

I have discovered Zumba... a Latin dance workout that makes you work harder than seems humanly possible while twisting, kicking, jumping, and moving your feet and hands to a beat that makes time fly. Oh, and did I mention you can burn up to 1000 calories per hour!! That is unheard of!

Friday, I attended two Zumba classes back to back! Oh. My. Goodness. I barely made it to the end of the second class and was completely wiped the next day. And the next. The experience, however, was so (I hate to use the word) empowering. I felt energetic even though I couldn't think about moving around any more and had a neat sense of accomplishment.

Zumba feels like dancing - as it should - and, though the mirror tells me otherwise, I feel like I'm the most graceful and powerful dancer around. So far, so good.

Day 74: Monolith Syndrome

2010-02-26T23:59:00.000-05:00

And the results for this week's comparison are in:

Days remaining: 149
Pounds remaining: 141.5
Inches lost/gained this past week: 0.0
Pounds lost/gained this past week: -3.5
Percentage weight loss this past week: -1.19%

Total pounds lost: -11.5
Total inches lost: -15.5

I realized an interesting fact today. For a while, I have suspected that I have been suffering from Monolith Syndrome and today it was completely confirmed.

This evening, I stepped SO far out of my comfort zone and joined a Zumba class at the YMCA! I have been avoiding any class exercising for months now because I have been so afraid that I will be the only one in class who can't keep up or who will look like a total idiot.

Now an observation... for overweight individuals, the current exercise dress code seems to be an expression of either the Monolith Syndrome or the Popped Biscuit Can look. The Monolith wears extremely baggy and long clothing that obscures every single lump... or so that individual believes. The horrible truth lies buried in the comfort baggy clothes provide; deceptive comfort. It's so easy to feel slim and muscular beneath a t-shirt two or three sizes too large... mirrors have a nasty way of popping that bubble.

The Popped Biscuit Can look involves wearing "normal" workout clothing that would be fine for a normal-weighted individual. Regrettably, these people seem to pay no heed to the rolls of extra that slip out from under the sports top or the puffiness that spills over the top of those "cute," skintight exercise pants.

Which style am I? I wish I could say Yuppie Slim, but when I entered the Zumba session, my sight was assaulted by what appeared to be a single, black monolith. There were mirrors everywhere, surrounding the room with multiple reflections of that impressive sight; even the largest person in the room was half my size! My monolith wasn't some point of personal evolution as I wrote in a previous blog post - I WAS the monolith!

I suppose this would normally have daunted me, but I really wanted to participate in the Zumba and focused on the instructor while attempting to coerce my overtly-Caucasian body into swaying gracefully with the Latin rhythms. At various points, I would feel as if my form was extremely good and I was really getting the steps... then I would glance back at my reflection and would see the most absurd sight I have ever seen. Plump white arms protruding from rolled-up black sleeves and swaying hips that were barely seen beneath the drapery of the way-large black t-shirt.

Now, I've always enjoyed seeing the pure joy some large people exude when dancing all out; as if they completely forget how large they are and who is watching - they simply have fun. So this was the path I chose to take. And I had fun. I tripped and stumbled, missed the beat and alternately forgot to add arms to my steps (and vice versa)... all the while wondering who that goofy person in the mirror could possibly be imitating.

The shock would set in every once in a while.

As I walked away, I realized that although I was so absurd in my performance, I had such a strong desire to master the Zumba steps and moves. I will be back and I look forward to winning the approval of the instructor and the other rhythmic/experienced participants with my masterful display of awesomeness... I hope. Besides, I can't complain about an hour-long session that burns up to 1000 calories and which flies by so quickly, I don't notice how long I've been exercising!

I also realized I should get different clothing for working out. I'm very comfortable in my HUGE black 3x t-shirt and I feel smaller inside, but the mirrors surrounding every room in the Y keep broadcasting an extremely uncomfortable picture back to me... something I can change now.

Now, to find the balance between evidencing the Monolith Syndrome and resembling a Popped Biscuit Can.

Day 65: This Isn't Fun Any More

2010-02-17T23:09:00.005-05:00

::Sigh:: Now that my accounts have been restored from the lovely hack job done on them this past week, it seems there are no more excuses to prevent me from posting something I completely did not want to post... at all.

Days remaining: 158
Pounds remaining: 145
Inches lost/gained: +0.25
Pounds lost/gained: +2.5
Percentage weight lost: +1.01%

In looking at the inches lost, my top half gained, but the lower half lost big time - which is kind of the whole point I'm trying to achieve here. An additional bonus is that five of my twelve measuring points are holding rock steady... and most likely will until the next large weight drop.

All of this is very statistical and fulfills my self-imposed requirements... and serves to try to skirt around the point that I've been trying to avoid talking about or posting for a while now: the past two weeks have been terrible from a dietary and exercise standpoint.

It's one thing to build a higher-calorie day into your diet, but another thing entirely to overdo it for the whole weekend. It's one thing to have a couple more bites of something at one meal and another thing to blow an entire meal later in the day.

Shortest way to say it - the week before last was a slippery slope. I saw the signs and decided to ignore them; primarily because it was more convenient to eat whatever and whenever I wanted to. Last week was full-scale plummeting with no attempt at keeping to a diet or getting to the gym.

Why? I suppose part of it was I was tired of counting calories, of early-morning jaunts to the gym, of trying to rearrange food choices to be more attractive or filling, of passing on desserts and sodas. It simply was too easy to do nothing.

Granted, there was a bright side to all this sliding. Even on the highest-calorie days, Jason and I would split the Subway foot-long or the Wendy's frosty or the WaWa turkey bowl instead of eating a whole portion each. Each time I went to Starbucks, I would chose a Tall instead of Venti drink and, on occasion, pass on the whipped cream.

So, I suppose progress is being made... slowly. But it's too slow and I desperately need to pick up the pace if I'm to make it anywhere near my goal. I have a phrase I use when a once-attractive pursuit becomes odious and onerous - "This isn't fun any more."

I have certainly hit the "this isn't fun any more" point in this project and, quite frankly, knowing how I normally operate, I'm surprised it's taken this long to get here. The distance I have to still go is discouraging and somewhat depressing. I promised honesty and here it is. Not pretty, somewhat embarrassing... but true.

At this point, I am working through my "feelings" by praying and trying to get to the bottom of why this kind of slippage is happening. I am back on the diet and have gone to the gym twice this week already. I really don't want to quit and don't intend to... I simply need to re-energize and re-commit.

Day 59: Surprised by the Inch

2010-02-10T23:59:00.001-05:00

Well... this past week had an interesting surprise! Take a look:

Days remaining: 162
Pounds remaining: 142.5
Inches lost/gained: -4.0
Pounds lost/gained: +1.5
Percentage weight lost: +0.99%

Basically, I wasn't able to exercise last week because I became fairly ill on Monday and Tuesday, leading me to make the call and not exercise the rest of the week. It seemed my body was telling me I was doing just a bit too much.

With the gain of 1.5 pounds, I was initially discouraged... that is, until I compared my body measurements with last week's results. Another four inches has fallen away from my frame and I could not be happier (even though I'm still trying to reconcile the fact that inches lost even though pounds are gained is a good thing).

This week, I seem to be struggling more with diet choices and exercise regimen... I sense a re-dedication of effort on the horizon for me!

Week Nine: Encouragement Is Like a CheeseLovers Pan Pizza

2010-02-08T23:59:00.006-05:00

The outfit was perfect... and would never have been able to be worn several months ago. Actually, several months ago, she never would have even dreamed of wearing anything like it.

The black fine-knit sweater clung closely to her form, its intricately woven black-beaded collar surreptitiously catching the overhead lights, adding flicker and half-hidden sparkle. The floor-length black skirt swayed confidently with each movement, framing and enhancing.

This was good; this was a wonderful state of being. She felt beautiful... no... she felt elegantly gorgeous!

Be honest. How many of us would love to feel that way again (if we ever felt that way before)?!

I know I certainly would. I would give almost anything... preferably many pounds of fat... to feel like that again. To have perfectly fitting clothing. To not have to persistently tug on shirt or skirt to ensure correct positioning. To not have to restrict one's movement so as not to disarray the carefully placed clothing. To not have to think one single stray thought about whether stance and gait enhanced or detracted from actual weight perceptions.

That picture above was taken three years ago on 3 February. It was at my brother's wedding and I had recently returned home from a three-month stay in Mexico. Having dropped a few pounds while there, I was enjoying the delights of being able to wear whatever I wanted and not have to worry about whether or not unsightly bumps were adequately covered.

I was free to move, to dance, to stand, to sit, to bend, and to sway as I saw fit. This may not seem like a great deal to many of you, but for those who live in a constant personal hell of trying to disguise shameful fat, this freedom bestows an incredible sense of elation. No tugging. No pulling. No worries.

This picture jumped out at me as I clicked my way through various folders and files recently moved to my brand new laptop. For a moment, I did not recognize the face that stared back at me. Slowly, and with a degree of shock, I realized the picture of the woman in front of me was actually... me!

Initially, a flood of discouragement slammed me in the gut as I acknowledged I no longer looked ANYTHING like the picture. Fighting for supremacy, my better-days-lie-ahead self put forth the notion, "True. But that is what you're working toward. You WILL make it there... and then some!"

Encouragement is a beautiful thing and for me, as I struggle and pray through a "hump" part of this diet, I see before me what my end goal is. Sure, I have hanging in the bathroom a goal dress. Sure, in my mind's eye, I can imagine the svelte-ness I shall one day be. And yes, I do look in the mirror every day, searching for diminished circumferences upon my frame.

More tangible than all these goals and hopes is the picture I share with you today and this little piece of advice. Never hesitate to encourage each other, for uplifting words provide the wings on which we soar above our difficulties. Don't over think about what the other person might think about or say to you; just act.

Your support of me and your encouraging words have given me the strength to persevere and stick it out one more week. Yes, it is through Christ that I do all this, but I believe that He has given you to me as an encouragement and as a source of accountability. I do not wish to let you down, all you who are cheering me on from afar. At this moment, my carb-hungry brain likens an uplifting comment from a reader to a sip of ice cold Pepsi after a bite of deep-fried Pizza Hut pan pizza (with extra cheese)!

See. You just never know what seemingly-insignificant word(s) of encouragement will do to strengthen a fellow traveler along the way!

...I think I smell a slice of CheeseLovers pizza!

Day 51: Looking Back with No Regrets

2010-02-03T23:04:00.005-05:00

Yea! I'm back!

I haven't been neglecting this blog on purpose, but a couple of issues came up which demanded my full attention - I've been sick the past couple days (thus the lack of my normal Monday post), a certain son has required extra attention (requiring me to be away from the computer more and leaving me more exhausted at the end of the day), and it's tax season (as a bookkeeper, I had a lot of work to do).

But enough of that! Here are my stats from the end of Week Seven:

Days remaining: 172
Pounds remaining: 141.0
Inches lost/gained: -2.0
Pounds lost/gained: -3.5
Percentage weight lost: 1.19%

As you can see, things have picked up a little bit since last week's slow-down and I thought it would be interesting to look some bits of information and morsels of progress from the Ruth Cooper Project. Most of this has happened in the past 24 days... something interesting to keep in mind.

-I have been following the Flat Belly Diet (with the inclusion of one planned-indulgence day per week) for 24 days. The cover of the book proclaims it is possible to lose up to (emphasis on the "up to") 15 pounds in 32 days (!!). Being slightly skeptical of this claim, I have put them to the test... with eight days remaining in the advertised 32 days, I have already lost 12 pounds! We'll see how the next eight days do.

-Inches lost has been an encouraging area. From measurements taken in twelve different areas, I have lost a combined total of 11.75 inches from the first week. Of that number, 66% has happened since going on the Flat Belly Diet. All but three areas (arm, torso, and knee) lost between 0.25 and 2.0 inches, with an average of 0.94 inches lost in each area... all in 24 days!!

-My short-term January goal was to be able to wear my wedding and engagement rings on the proper finger by the end of the month. Although January has ended, my rings still do not sit at the base of my left hand's fourth finger. A bit disappointing? Yes. What is encouraging, however, is that the rings are actually being daily worn on that finger and they do currently fit BELOW the first knuckle (something I could not do initially). My current guess is that it will take losing another ten pounds before the rings will fit at the base of the finger.

-Exercising at the YMCA has become almost a habit... I was right on the cusp when I fell ill on Sunday night. With a goal of working out five days a week, I started with an average of two to four days each week. When I started, I would do my weight training at the level I had left when I stopped going - around 23,000 pounds lifted per session. In the cardio department, it was all I could do to walk for 30 minutes on the treadmill and usually at a speed of 2.5 or 3 mph.

Last week, I worked out all five days (praise God!), my weight training session has been upped to just almost 31,000 pounds lifted per session, and my cardio now includes three 45-minute treadmill jaunts at 3.0-3.5 mph and two fat-blasting 35-minute walks at 3.0-4.0 mph! I wasn't feeling super challenged at the end of last week, so everything will be upped yet again. Again, these stats are for the last 24 days.

Progress is being made and if I hadn't been keeping records, I'd probably be more disappointed in my progress. I didn't realize how much had happened in the last 24 days and had been feeling as if everything was going too slow. Now I realize, it hasn't been all that bad... even though it IS slower then I'd like things to go.

So... now you're updated and I have returned, once again, to blog of my adventures in the Ruth Cooper Project.

Thank you for reading! Your comments do much to cheer me on!

Day 44: The Bane of Week Two

2010-01-27T22:17:00.003-05:00

Well, today was more discouraging than I was hoping it would be. Here are some stats to make my point:

Days remaining: 179
Pounds remaining: 144.5
Inches lost/gained: -1.25
Pounds lost/gained: -1.00
Percentage weight lost: 0.33%

I guess the dread of Week Two is legitimate. In theory, according to Bob and Jillian of the Biggest Loser, contestants lose the least weight - some even gain weight - during the second week of the contest, no matter how hard or how faithfully they dieted.

All this past week, I was watching the scale as I weighed in almost every morning. I watched as the pounds dropped away at a rate of almost one pound per day. I was SO excited! Something I had thought would be fun to do would be to compare my percentage of weight lost to the percentage of weight lost by the Biggest Loser contestants each week.

In order to stay above that yellow line of elimination this weigh-in, I would have had to have lost 4.5 pounds. To be the top scorer, I would have had to lose 7.5 pounds. Watching that scale, I felt for certain I would weigh in above the yellow line. Four pounds had dropped and I just needed that extra half pound... very doable in the two days I had remaining.

Imagine my horror when I stepped on the scale the next morning to realize I had gained 6.5 pounds!!! Now, I had gone to bed fairly late which caused some serious water retention, so I decided to get extra sleep the next night and drink lots of water during the day.

This morning, I awoke still with water retention, but at least the scale showed I had dropped a pound overall (7.5 pounds from my attempted weigh-in yesterday). I'm sure my inches suffered as well, yet I still lost one and a quarter inches overall!

So... Below the yellow line? Yup. Very discouraging? Absolutely. Am I giving up? Tempted, but probably not.

I still have 179 days in which to shed these unwanted pounds and I choose to believe that I have been a victim of the evil Week Two re-balancing act and that I will lose far more weight and inches this coming week - it's also an interesting statistic that you will follow a low-loss week with a higher-loss week.

Later, my favorite carbon units! Tomorrow morning will find me dark and early, jiggling away those extra pounds!

Day 42: The Answer to Life, the Look You Want, and Everything

2010-01-25T22:23:00.008-05:00

Never had a bed felt so good before! Sitting on the edge of the mattress, she glanced down at the clock on the bedside stand. Two o'clock in the morning?! How could it possibly be that late... or early? What kind of person went to bed at two every morning?

Fuzzy thoughts stumbled through her brain as she tried to focus for just another minute and twenty-seven seconds - just long enough to set the alarm for 5:30 AM. With eyelids that refused to obey even the simplest of commands, she blearily checked that the alarm was, in fact, set for three and one-half hours later and rolled floppily onto the bed.

Her aching feet wearily reveled in the lack of weight above them and her exhausted frame slowly relaxed from the pressures of the day. Ahhh... she sank blissfully into the soft pillow and pulled the down comforter up around her neck, wriggling just a bit as sleep...

Suddenly her eyes flew open with the foggy realization that the alarm was going off. Noooo. It couldn't possibly be time yet! She had just fallen asleep. Must be some mistake. But a groggy inspection of the nasty little alarm clock revealed the truth; it was 5:30.

Two and one-half hours had disappeared as if they had never existed.

You know the feeling. One minute, you're anticipating the nice, deep sleep you're about to get and the next (or so it seems), that horrible alarm is going off or, worse yet, some family member dares to disturb your slumbers.

I would venture to say that all of us have dealt with inadequate sleep at some point in our lives. Sometimes, it is a function of our own poor choices; other times, we really don't have a choice and are called from our peaceful slumbers by necessity (be it our own or that of others).

The average American gets about 6.5 hours of sleep each night; one hour less than 20 to 30 years ago. That may not seem so terrible until you realize the average adult needs between seven and eight hours each night! Sleep just doesn't seem that important anymore: not with cool late-night TV shows, places to hang out, extra work, increasing insomnia, etc.

The price we are paying for decreasing our sleep is intense. According to surveys, an this cultural lack of sleep is costing fifteen billion dollars in health care expenses and an estimated fifty billion in lost productivity costs - and this is for the U.S. One in five adults experience daytime sleepiness and fifty percent of those say it affects their work performance! Caffeine consumption is up as are the sales of insomnia medications.

The market and economy are not the only areas affected by lack of sleep. Health is seriously affected by insufficient sleep: lowered immune systems, increased stress levels, mood changes, cognitive ability, appetite, and even weight gain.

Ghrelin and leptin are two amazing complementary hormones that can help or hurt your life. Ghrelin not only increases appetite, but also may prevent weight loss. Leptin is a made mostly in fat cells and its amount in your blood is proportional to your amount of body fat. It is thought to suppress appetite, yet obesity is a leptin-resistant state; you ignore signals to stop eating. Through regular lack of sleep, ghrelin production increases (and leptin decreases), making you feel like eating all the time - especially foods high in carbohydrates and increased night-time snacking.

In 2006, a the largest study to track the sleep/weight connection was released. It included close to 70,000 middle-aged women and ran the course of 16 years. The results were shocking. Sleeping five or fewer hours per night yielded women who were 32% more likely to gain 33+ pounds and 15% more likely to become obese over the women who slept seven hours each night. Even sleeping six hours a night still resulted in a 12% likelihood of major weight gain and 6% likelihood of becoming obese when compared to the seven-hour-per-night women.

What happens when you don't get enough sleep (with respect to weight)? The sleep deficit will interfere with your body's ability to deal with and process carbohydrates, stress management, and hormonal balance. In just one sleep-deprived week, you'll have significant decrease in glucose processing abilities and insulin levels can rise to a pre-diabetic level.

So it would seem that ensuring seven to eight hours of sleep per night can have dramatic health, mental, and weight benefits. One Stanford researcher was quoted as saying, "[After increasing hours of sleep per night] Some of the improvements in performance, in mood, in cognitive ability, and in energy were really dramatic, almost superhuman."

Think you don't have enough time to sleep an extra hour or fraction thereof? Think again. Something as simple as turning off the television or not watching that movie could help you get to bed earlier. How about minimal caffeine, nicotine, and alcohol right before bed. Try not eating for three hours before you go to bed and then make sure you sleep in the dark - no night lights. Keep your work and projects out of the bedroom and let it be a place where you can relax - keep it clean and tidy. Instead of taking that medication to fall asleep, try exercising during the day and taking some calcium right before going to bed.

And yes, I am aware of the irony of this post as I sit here, 36 minutes before midnight, pontificating on the benefits of sleep and knowing full well I shall have to awaken around five o'clock, not only to feed the baby, but also to get to the gym!

Let's try an experiment this week: try getting at least seven hours of sleep each night. It might mean giving up some personal quiet time or cutting some entertainment from the schedule... but think what worlds might open if all you needed to lose that last five pounds was an extra hour of sleep?!

I, for one, need all the help I can get!

(photo courtesy of Joseph Miller Photography)

Day 39: Mid-second Week Musings

2010-01-22T23:59:00.000-05:00

Calories:
1570

Exercises:
Missed the Y today; ignored alarm clock and had no opportunity later during the day (went visiting).

Emotional Pulse:
Disappointed in missing workout; busy and tired most of the day and didn't pay much attention to four-hour intervals between meals.

Well, as you can see from the calorie count, I really wasn't keeping on top of my diet, exercise, or much of anything else. ::sigh:: Oh, well! At least a lot of laundry got done.

According to the scale, I seem to have dropped another pound; and that measurement taken at the end of the day as well! I am refraining from breaking out the tape measure mid-week to see if I've lost any more inches (though I'm fairly sure I have).

If you've ever watched the Biggest Loser, you'll most likely have heard of the "second week curse" and its effects on the participants. Usually, during the first week, contestants lose a huge amount of weight - I've seen up to 7% of their total body weight!! The second week generally returns less-than-satisfactory results with most of the contestants losing pathetically low numbers, staying the same weight, or actually gaining weight - all this with super extra working out.

Second week results tend to be lower because of the body's plateauing and beginning to adjust to lower calories and increased exercise. It is not uncommon, also, to have a large-number weight loss in one week followed by a lower-number weight loss the next, only to be followed the next week by a larger loss.

I have been wondering what my second week results hold for me and I'm waiting with bated breath until I take those documentable measurements Tuesday morning! Until then, I have been encouraged by my results to continue to adhere to my diet and exercise plans, though I need to work a bit harder at getting in my three meals and snack at appropriate intervals throughout the day.

Day 38: In Search of MUFAs - The Flat Belly Diet Experience

2010-01-21T23:20:00.009-05:00

Calories:
1838

Exercise:
Calorie Torch 30-minute interval walk (Flat Belly) with Wittle Waist move during high-speed sections.

Emotional Pulse:
Doing well; not bored, therefore not desiring to gobble; excited by weight loss and increasing endurance, in home and in gym.

I thought I'd start doing something new with each post.

As you know, my goal is to lose a total of 150 pounds by 25 July through the combined efforts of dieting, exercise, and improved living. To this end, I post a weekly status report showing my pound and inch losses and gains over the week that has just ended.

This evening, as I was returning home from the Y (::pat on back, pat on back::), it occurred to me that I could add another level of accountability to my attempts to post daily - especially in light of the fact that I've had a couple of rough days comprised of strong desires to blow the diet and eat everything in sight, then go out and buy some more to eat.

I will post each day how many calories I have eaten that day, my goal being 1800-2000 calories per day (a bit higher than the suggested 1600 per day because I am still nursing a baby). I will also post what my exercising activities were and a general emotional summary of the day. I imagine this will also help in curtailing various impulses to gorge on dried fruit... which is better than Krispy Kreme, I have to say!

Today marks the unveiling of what exactly is this diet I'm currently following.

At Jason's urgent request, we decided to follow the Flat Belly Diet! Though I didn't know it at the time, it turns out this diet is the hottest thing around right now. We bought the bright yellow book with friendly black lettering at CostCo for about $8.97 and it has changed our lives in eleven short days (though some certainly felt longer than others).

The Flat Belly Diet is fairly simple and has three basic rules:

1. Never go more than four hours without eating (I'm still working on that one).
2. Keep each of the three meals and single snack at about 400 calories (for the average woman).
3. Include one MUFA at each meal, including snack

So, what is a MUFA?! MUFA stands for MonoUnsaturated Fatty Acid and it is found in the following five items and/or groups:

1. Nuts and nut oils - some are higher in MUFA counts than others; macadamias are the highest
2. Olives - any type
3. Olive oil
4. Avocado - Hass are the best, with higher MUFA than California avocados
5. Dark chocolate - this HAS to be my absolute favorite and the saving grace of this diet!

So... it's a very simple diet plan and one that's not hard to stick to - and this is coming from one who absolutely HATES diets. I rarely feel hungry despite the smaller portions, and that is due to the inclusion of MUFAs. The fatty acids help you feel full longer... which is a wonderful thing!

Someone asked me what the difference was between this and WeightWatchers so I began thinking. I would say the greatest difference lies in the unshakable rule of including MUFAs with each meal. True, WeightWatchers does say you must include your fats and oils, yet these are the very things which are so commonly discarded because they contain SO many calories and because they have so much fat.

The other primary difference (as pointed out by my mom) lies in the lack of artificial sweeteners. If you're going to have something sweet, it should be the real thing. Artificial sweeteners do the body NO favors whatsoever; leaving you craving more sweet things and bloating that abdomen even more.

Although they are not explicitly forbidden (except in the first four days' Anti-Bloat Diet), it is highly encouraged that you cut back severely on caffeine (dehydrates and stresses the body), salt (aids and abets water retention), gassy foods (broccoli, cabbage, etc.), and gum chewing (extra air gets inside your gut).

This diet assures that each dieter will actually lose weight and inches off the belly, as promised, and will enjoy a lighter emotional feel - due to the increased happiness of your body.

Why are MUFAs so special? This particular fatty acid targets and aids in the dissolution of visceral body fat; this is the fat that congregates around your internal organs and increases your likelihood of disease and assorted other bad things happening.

Even very skinny people can have too much visceral fat; even though they have hardly any subcutaneous fat (the blubber which is normally referred to as 'fat'). You can be the perfect weight and BMI, yet still be woefully unhealthy. Amazing!

Just as a quick testimonial to the power of MUFAs, the week before we actually started the Flat Belly Diet, we added a MUFA to each meal. Didn't really change the way we were eating, just recorded everything and added a MUFA each meal. At the end of the week, I had lost 2.25 inches... and was eating an average of 3000 calories per day!!

Now, we are about to begin Day 12 of this diet. Jason is down about 12 pounds and I have bid farewell to at least 7.5 pounds AND 4.5 inches!! If that doesn't encourage you, feel free to communicate with me... I'd love to encourage you.

For those who can't wait to lose weight yourself, click HERE to purchase your own copy of the Flat Belly Diet (via my brand-new I-think-I'll-try-this Amazon.com Associate link).

As I mentioned before, I HATE diets. Yet this is one I am absolutely loving. Yes, I have my rough patches, but overall, I'm excited to see the weight coming off. I'm enjoying feeling my clothes fit looser. I'm reveling in the increased endurance I have to deal with every-day challenges.

I am not perfect and don't always have happy days with this diet, but I am learning - for perhaps the very first time in my life - how to control my passion for eating.

Day 37: I Belly Survived Wipe-out Wednesday!

2010-01-20T23:41:00.001-05:00

If Malevolent Mondays are a thing to be dreaded and Tortuous Tuesdays cannot be avoided, what can possibly be done to weather Wipe-out Wednesdays?! Since today marks the half-way point of my second week of diligently working out (weight training and cardio) and the second week of the Flat Belly Diet, I thought it only fitting you should get a glimpse into my middle-of-the-week Hump-day (as Jason calls it).

Today was very nearly a complete disaster! My sweet little boy caught something nasty somewhere and, in the process of tending to his little (often whiny) needs, his germs felt they should play war with my white blood cells - thus the feeling icky this week, particularly today.

And yet, in the face of such adverse conditions, I've managed to haul my reluctant body to the gym each day. My ultimate goal is to work out five days a week (in the early morning), alternating weight training with cardio exercises AND doing at least a 30-minute walk each day. Last week, I got in four days and walked quite a bit on the fifth day while doing errands.

So... what factors force me to leave my lovely home into the unfriendly atmosphere of the gym? First, I know somewhere in the anklebone of my heart that I will feel better after having exercised. Second, the blog creates such a burden of responsibility on me, I feel obligated to go. Third, I have an amazing husband who is dedicated to my pursuit of weight loss and it is he who frequently encourages and gently kicks me out the door to do the thing I know I must. Lastly, I am still in awe of the reader(s) who paid for our YMCA membership... I owe you and, so far, the only way I can repay you is by constant dedication to working out regularly.

Food? You know, with this diet, I have become painfully aware that most, if not all, of my eating happens from non-hunger influences. I like to eat when I'm bored, upset, stressed, exhausted, depressed, celebratory... the list goes on. Even though my diet has a snack available, I am still amazed at how much I want to eat - not need to eat; want to eat.

Today was very nearly a disaster because of that. I wasn't feeling great, had been listening to kids whine all day, didn't get the stuff done I'd hoped for, and just wanted to sit around and do nothing. Would you believe it? The one bottom-line factor that kept me from indulging in an extra handful of chocolate and more breakfast bars (or worse) was the knowledge that I would have to post at the end of the day... and I, as sure as all that is yummy, did not want to post a failure.

When you get tempted to eat more food; run away and refocus. This whole self-control thing is NOT fun anymore!

Oh. And one more cool little fact: I lost 2.48% of my weight this past week. Unfortunately, had I been on Week 1 of The Biggest Loser, I would have fallen below the yellow line - the lowest was 4.75%.

Day 36: It Works! It Really Works!

2010-01-19T23:59:00.000-05:00

This marks the first status update I've actually been excited to share! Here are my stats comparing last week with today's measurements:

Days remaining: 185
Pounds remaining: 145.5
Inches lost/gained: -4.50 (!)
Pounds lost/gained: -7.50 (!!)

That's right! This past week, I really did lose 7.5 pounds and 4.5 inches... and that was measuring after only a couple hours of sleep and noticeable water retention!

My January goal still stands - to lose enough weight to be able to wear my wedding rings again - and progress has been made in that area. I have now gone from being able to wear them above the ring finger knuckle to being able to wear them both below that same knuckle. In fact, they fit so much lower that I can consistently wear both rings and do daily activities simultaneously (not doable previously).

As far as exercise, the wonderful anonymous donor is a constant motivating force to get out the door and work out at the YMCA gym. I feel guilty if I miss a day and went four days last week. The fifth day, I still got in cardio, but it was in the real world... outdoors... with my tiny monkeys.

My diet has immensely improved as Jason and I have undertaken to follow the Flat Belly Diet. It really does work and, yes, you really can eat chocolate while on this diet. I usually end up eating around half a cup of Ghirardelli dark chocolate baking chips every single day!!! I never feel hungry or deprived despite the small portion sizes... I shall disclose more next time!

Thank you for reading, for believing, for supporting... you truly motivate and inspire me! I'm on a roll now!

Week 6: Running Amok with [Insert Temptation Here]

2010-01-18T23:59:00.003-05:00

Glancing at the aunts behind her, the eleven-year-old girl pushed on the exit door of the Old Country Buffet. The odors of warm and inviting food gave way to the crisp, invigorating scents of fall air and the brisk liveliness of the outdoors.

Pronouncements of satisfaction and delight filled the air as the two older women relived their recent dessert experience and lovingly patted those body parts where those extra calories would soon gather.

"A moment on the lips; a lifetime on the hips."

This foreign adage fell on the little girl's ear and, after learning the meaning of that phrase, solemnly announced to the amused aunts that she didn't gain weight down there. Despite their comments to the contrary ("Just wait until you get older"), the little girl was quite positive she never would.

And the aunts laughed.

Well... that day was about... hmm... yes, well... a while back. And that little girl was I. I saw what older women looked like and where they put on extra poundage. After eleven years of deep experience and minimal weight gain, I was also equally sure I would NEVER look like that nor accumulate weight in my hips and derriere; NEVER!

Alas. As the years have passed, not only has the surplus of emergency reserve clung to my hips, it has also padded that which I sit upon, increased the circumference of my arms, added to my jawline, filled out my stomach, obscured my waist, and hidden the natural contours of my legs. To my chagrin, the aunts were right. Thus, from a childhood memory, a hackneyed phrase, and something I'd recently read, an insight was born.

How many times has the following happened to you? You're either on a diet, or have been doing SO well, and one day you mess up. How often do you throw the entire plan out the window? Become depressed? Despondent? What do you do when in the depths of dietary despair? Cry? Eat? Watch depressing chick flicks? Eat? Whine to your friends? Eat? Make new resolutions? Eat? Re-write your entire diet plan from the beginning? Eat?

Personally, my "excuse" to end any diet has always been to mess up just once, give up in despair, eat every yummy thing in sight, and sink into massive depression as I scroll through my mental slide-show of Svelte Me; tears streaming because I don't look like what I think I should look like... and never will. ::sigh::

Been there? I'm sure most of of us have been at this point at least once in our lives; at least once.

Okay. So you ate that Hershey's Kiss. Oops. You didn't work out at the gym today(!). Gasp. You ate the WHOLE cheesecake?! And what do you mean, there are 48 servings in that sheet of gooey carrot cake?! Are these reasons to give up on your weight-loss or fitness goal? Is any one of these a sufficient reason to get depressed and go on a week-long eating binge? Which of the above is the unpardonable sin that will forever separate you from thin bliss?

News flash. Just one mess-up is NOT going to ruin your life. And at the risk of puncturing self-pity bubbles and dismembering personal food fest plans, I shall state this again (this time in bold): Just one mistake is NOT going to ruin your life.

Switch your focus from the small to the large picture. Don't look at the mistake and fall into a vicious cycle of self-condemnation and self-loathing. Don't take your tear-stained cheeks to IHOP. Don't try to end all your good intentions by stuffing your head in the nearest cookie jar. Instead, admit you made a mistake, ask yourself (and whomever else) for forgiveness, and get right back on track.

Think objectively. If you suddenly snapped one late afternoon or evening and gobbled down a whole handful of chocolate or inhaled a slice of pizza or lost yourself in a glass of soda, yet everything else with your eating and exercise was fine - this was your only mistake - what would the damage be? Honestly, not that much!

From a physical/mathematical standpoint, what's the worst thing that just happened? Um... you ate an extra couple hundred calories. Do you realize that the average human burns 2000-2500 calories PER DAY; not including specific exercise! One larger-calorie meal in the midst of smaller meals will be treated by your body as an anomaly instead of the norm. Drink some extra water and maybe eat a little lighter the next meal... but don't give up and binge through the weekend.

Make sure your mistake doesn't turn a mistake of a few hundred calories into a several-thousand-calorie mistake! It's not worth it. By nipping your slip-up immediately, chances are you'll never see lasting side effects from your mistake.

The true price that tends to be paid with dieting "cheats" or "slip-ups" or mistakes is paid in emotions. The guilt we lay on ourselves is enormous; it does far more harm than we realize. Remember: the link between guilty depression and comfort eating is a fairly reliable one. So be prepared to fight.

Do yourself (and others) a favor - take a little responsibility and catch your mistakes while they are yet small and do it in a be-kind-to-yourself way. In so doing, you will keep them from ruining your life and will help you maintain self-control.

After all, real life is not like a regimented diet. The more self-control and moderation practiced throughout the assigned diet period, the more likely you will be able to take those skills and apply them to normal eating and living.

Think life change; not diet.

(photo courtesy of www.babble.com)

Day 30: Donations, Epiphanies... And There Goes My Last Excuse

2010-01-13T23:59:00.006-05:00

The word that springs to mind is, "WOW!!" And yet, the "wow" I feel goes SO far above and beyond that oft-used word. The "wow" I am experiencing is insufficiently described by words, transcends a basic level of jaw muscle control, and stimulates the lacrimal gland.

Let me tell you why.

All throughout the creation and somewhat-regular posting of this blog, there has remained in the back of my mind an "out." This "out" primarily consists of the notion that if things don't really go the way I hope they will, it's not a big deal... My readers would be disappointed, I'd be a failure, and what else would be new?

This lovely bubble of pre-planned failure popped less than a week ago.

An unbelievable donation was made to our YMCA membership account by an anonymous donor. This donor mention they were doing this as a direct result of reading this very blog! That's right! One of "you people" is that special donor! I still don't know who did this amazing thing, but whoever paid for our gym membership through June(!), know that I will never be able to thank you enough!

You have taken away my very last excuse and have shattered my secret "out."

How can I possibly fail you now?! How can I, in any good conscience, NOT go work out diligently? How can I not share the progress I am making... and because I don't know who you are, I must continue to use this forum. Giving up or quitting just became a non-option because I WILL NOT let you down and WILL NOT let your generous donation go to waste.

Thank you so much, wonderful anonymous donor, for the new life you have breathed into this Project and for the amazing gift you have provided to me and Jason through your donation! (I'm still in a bit of shock) It's amazing to find out that someone has been impacted to such a level by this smattering of my thoughts while losing weight!

You will be happy to know that upon learning of your donation, I made my way to the gym the very next week day and have continued to go faithfully. It is your thoughtfulness and participation in my Project that gets me out of bed at 5:30 in the morning, an hour after feeding the baby, and enervates me to get to the Y when it's still dark and cold.

If you choose, at some point, to reveal yourself, I would love it. But, as much as I'm aching to discover your identity, I will ask if you could remain anonymous until the end of the Project. I know the mystery behind your participation in this Project will only maintain my level of dedication to finishing what I have started.

Once again, thank you!

My epiphany came today as I was driving home from the gym, shivering in the not-yet-warm car (we live too close to the Y for the car to warm up).

Since Monday, Jason and I have been following the Flat Belly Diet; a diet which involves eating about 1200 non-bloating calories the first four days - more about this later. When my visionary husband first suggested we follow this diet, my initial response was, "No way! I HATE diets!"

Now I'm sure part of my response came from the fact that he suggested we begin the diet on Monday... when it was SUNDAY night! The other part of my response came from glancing at the meager portions listed in the daily food plans within the book; I was sure I would starve... and I'm currently nursing a two-month-old baby (i.e., I'm ALWAYS hungry).

Biting my tongue, I respectfully submitted that we not start cold turkey the next day, but instead spend a week dutifully recording how many calories we were eating and include a MUFA (Mono-Unsaturated Fatty Acid) with each meal as the Diet required. He agreed and I, inwardly dreading the week, found halfway through the week that I was ready to undertake the 32-day diet challenge.

More details will come in a following post, but here, on Day Three of our Flat Belly Diet, I was struck by this realization: I am called to be Jason's wife and therefore, obedient and submissive to his vision and guidance for our family... and he's come up with some interesting visions over the two years we've been married! ::smile::

As a married woman, I have reaped and continue to reap the benefits of submitting to my parents' authority leading up to my marriage and today, I realized I am reaping the rewards of submitting to my husband's authority.

Within three days, I have already lost six pounds and have no clue as to how many inches! Not only that, but the week before going on the Diet, I had lost over two inches! I feel great and am starting to see a change in that nasty mirror!

And so it was this morning, in the dark, icy car that I realized God is blessing my obedience to my husband. He is blessing me for honoring Jason's request to do the Flat Belly Diet and to exercise in the most wonderful way ever... progress along my weight-loss path!

Hang in there with me, "you people"; you truly inspire and re-dedicate me to the Project I have undertaken!

Day 29: Farewell, Jelly Belly

2010-01-12T23:59:00.000-05:00

And so it has come, yet once again - that time of week where I publish my updated status.

Some numbers will be a little different as you may guess from yesterday's post. Honesty on the scale has set me back a bit in my ultimate goal and so the numbers are not as "whee-hee" as I had hoped... but they are honest. ::satisfied smile::

Days remaining: 193
Pounds remaining: 153.0
Inches lost/gained: -2.25 inches
Pounds lost/gained: +7.50 pounds

So, it would seem that in spite of the 7.5 pounds the evil little scale has generously added back to my frame (!), my overall size has diminished. I was certainly NOT expecting a loss of 2.25 inches over the past week! Only one area, my neck, increased. The other 11 areas lost inches or remained steady. God is so good!

This week, Jason and I have undertaken a new plan for losing weight. It involves an actual diet plan, working out, and some serious inch/weight loss. But more about that tomorrow.

For now, know that I am feeling more energetic, physically lighter, and clearer in thought. For the first time in the past 29 days, I actually have a scintilla of hope that I will be able to reach my ultimate goal.

Week Five: Mirror, Tape and Scale: A Triumvirate of Evil

2010-01-11T23:59:00.003-05:00

It was late at night and yet there was one thing she had left - her daily Bible reading. As part of a ninety-day challenge, large portions of Scripture needed to be read every day... and she was behind.

It didn't seem to matter what changes were made throughout the week, the weekend always seemed to herald the crumbling of any resolutions or plans to get ahead with housework, laundry, planning, paper management, blogging, and now Bible reading.

The text scrolled endlessly in front of her. So many laws, so many details. God had been so particular with the Israelites about so many different issues. Suddenly, there it was, a Scriptural reason for her to return to Square One; a reason for confessing and beginning again.

"Just balances, just weights, a just ephah, and a just hin, shall ye have: I am the LORD you God, which brought you out of the land of Egypt."

-Leviticus 19:36

This scenario played out in my home just a few minutes ago. On Tuesday of the past week, my husband, Jason, returned to work after a two-month period of being laid off. While this was news extraordinaire and was met with much rejoicing, it did mark the end of a vacation-like period.

The week that followed, and that has now passed, proved to be challenging on several levels. This is the first time since the birth of my second son (two months ago) that I have been home with the two of them by myself.

Trying to keep up with my two precious morsels of manhood while maintaining the house, my part-time bookkeeping and tutoring jobs, two blogs, and a diet journal gave me much to be active about. Let us say nothing of the weekend we spent away from home!

Throughout this time, I have been dwelling on the necessary evil of scales, tape measures, and mirrors.

Mirrors, I find, are extremely necessary in the weight-loss process. Without them, it is so easy to fall into a less-than-real self image of yourself. I know I certainly have.

In my mind, I know I am a little overweight, but not extremely so. I am aware of a few bulges, but nothing that a nice shirt can't cover. I know my pants are a little snug, but they don't look terrible as I gaze down my front.

Then I pass a full-length mirror!!!

And the beautiful dream vanishes and shock sets in. The extra fold of skin on my neck becomes a double chin as I look down at myself. That nice shirt only covers the front few bulges and bunches up in the massive rolls behind. Those pants still look great... from the knee down.

I realized recently that I have not lived around a full-length mirror in over a year. As a result, I never see what I look like below the bust line. I can see my face becoming a bit more plump and can see that my arms don't fit as well in the sleeves. Entirely missing from the picture is the battle that has been lost beneath my waist.

A tape measure serves to confirm my hasty glances at my surprisingly large figure as it "darts" past full-length mirrors in other places. The temptation with a tape measure is to pull it very tightly, so as to "trick" yourself that you have lost inches. This does no favors to you. The lie will soon become evident.

My greatest confession comes to you in the area of scales. I have a delightful little scale. On it, I have discovered that by rocking back on my heels while weighing in, the pounds simply melt away - as many as six or eight pounds!

This week, I have been feeling guilty about how I use the scale, knowing deep in the ankle-bone of my heart that I do not weigh in reality what I write down every week.

It is now to you, my lovely readership, that I confess to using this tool improperly. Shakespeare's Hamlet has one of the most powerful lines; "To thine own self be true." The blatant truth of the matter is: I have not been honest with myself with respect to weight loss.

With that in mind, I have purposed to use these three tools - mirror, tape, and scale - honestly, no matter the data they convey to me.

Mirrors, I no longer pose in front of; seeking the best angle and holding in my stomach so I can give myself a better self-image before walking away. I will be purchasing a full-length mirror for the house. Not for any narcissistic purpose... for as Jackie Gleason once said, "It's hard to be a fat narcissist." Rather, I hope the mirror will help me live in a more realistic place; a place where I will not lie to myself about size and appearance.

Tape measure fraud I have circumvented with my new technique of measuring. So often, I would compare the current measurement (while measuring) with a previous data point, naturally allowing for some small adjustment in tape tension to increase comparative circumference lost. Now, I take measurements without even so much as a glance at the last weeks' data points. In this way, I have no clue if the current measurements are better or worse than the previous week - thereby maintaining an honest measurement session.

Scale manipulation is perhaps the hardest to eliminate. My solution is to place the scale in exactly the same spot each time and to stand on the scale in exactly the same foot and body position each time. I stand in such a way that I cannot see the digital numbers changing on the scale display and I stand there without looking for a minute until the scale freezes with the final weight. In this way, I cannot shift my weight to cause a lower weight to appear on the display.

As Leviticus says, "Just balances... shall ye have." Accuracy and honesty in weights and measures were (and still are) important to God and should be to us. May each of us be blessed with a new freedom, as only honesty can give, as we choose to measure our lives with honest and true measures.

(picture courtesy of www.redbookmag.com)

Day 24: Go... Bathe in Espresso and be Forever Smooth!

2010-01-06T23:59:00.006-05:00

I have received a couple comments that have to do with importance of drinking water while trying to lose weight. One of these comments had to do with the effect of caffeine on body cells while trying to lose weight... so I did some reading and found out something interesting.

Caffeine, it turns out, has a marvelous effect on the fat cells that make cellulite. It lessens the lumpiness, smooths out the bumps, and appears to get rid of some of that icky fat. Here's the catch... according to studies and testing, it is not the internalization of caffeine that brings about these changes. The great changes come from applying the caffeine EXTERNALLY!

It seems that creams which contain caffeine as the main ingredient, "work great to pull fluids out of the spaces between cells and induce lipolysis – fat burning in the layer just below the skin’s surface." This means fat cells will give up their fat particles, thereby shrinking in size.

Neat, huh?!

While the external application of caffeine is beneficial to decreasing fat, the internalization of caffeine has an opposite and negative effect. Drinking caffeine, while it does boost your metabolism a little bit, is also a diuretic which sucks and expels water from your body.

Great! You may be saying. I wanted all that extra water weight to go away! Here's the problem. Your body NEEDS water to burn fat. Without it, kidneys can't work properly so the liver lends a helping hepatocyte. While the liver is tied up helping the kidneys, it can't burn as much fat and because not as much fat is being burned, it gets stored for later.

How much water? It is now recommended that for each 25 pounds you are overweight, you add another eight-ounce glass of water to the daily eight eight-ounces you should be drinking. Another one I've heard is to take your weight in pounds, divide by two and drink that amount in ounces of water (i.e., a 100-pound person would drink 50 ounces of water each day). Personally, I find myself drinking anywhere between 1.5 and 4.5 liters each day.

Won't that mean you'll spend a huge portion of your life in the bathroom? Maybe for the first couple days, until your body realizes there is a constant, sufficient supply of water coming in. After the body releases all the extra water stored between the cells (for emergencies), you'll not only weigh a bit less, but your body will start to do neat things with the water as it repairs and rebuilds throughout your body - in addition to burning more fat. You will not be in the bathroom forever.

Other benefits to drinking sufficient water? How about improved muscle tone? Your muscles will contract with greater ease when you are properly hydrated, allowing a more effective workout. Your skin will plump out, filling wrinkles and flushing impurities, making the skin look younger. Besides, you want nice skin covering those now-plump muscles!

So drink more water and less caffeine... and remember caffeine is in tea, coffee, and cola sodas, even the diet ones. Spread your water drinking out over the course of the day; too much at a time can be harmful, flushing valuable electrolytes and salts from your body. Lastly, drink before you become thirsty. Thirst is a sign you are becoming dehydrated. Oh, and if you don't like water, try adding some lemon or lime or a splash of some other flavoring... it adds just enough to help you get past the whole "drinking water" obstacle.

And with this post, my plans to increase my Starbucks intake have been foiled yet again. Grr... Oh, well... when I am svelte and awesomely toned in body, I shall take my gorgeous self to Starbucks and order a drink of my choice, smallest size mind you, in celebration of the moment.

Day 23: CARBS!

2010-01-06T23:59:00.001-05:00

I had such high expectations today, but found I met none of them... aside from keeping my two tiny morsels from running amok. Most of the day, I felt lethargic and the pain in my head did nothing to lift that... plus, I had a firm desire to eat EVERYTHING in the house, especially nummy treats.

What is it with feeling depressed and eating carbohydrates anyway?!

I did a little reading and thinking on that subject and found that the desire for carbs in the late afternoon is a very normal part of being human. Okay. The human body needs carbs around that time to day to raise blood sugar levels and give a boost in energy to help us make it until dinner.

The problem is that many people either overdo their carb fix or use unhealthy carbs to get an energy boost. The danger lies in using carbs to constantly pick you up. Feeling low? Grab a Snickers. Feel great almost instantly. Enjoy a time of better mood and higher energy. Feeling low again? Go for a brownie and Starbucks frappuccino. Feel on top of the world once again. But for how long?

Carbs plus lack of self-discipline plus sedentary lifestyle equal extra weight and a dependency on carbs for improved mood and energy levels.

Did you know doing any activity vigorously for as little as thirty seconds can improve your metabolism and enhance your body's ability to process sugars? Not to mention, a brief burst of energy can really wake you up. Try it. I'm going to.

Next time I feel sluggish and strongly desire to turn to the chocolate or beloved Starbucks frappuccino for energy, I purpose to engage in thirty seconds of vigorous activity... and let you know how that works.

Day 22: Disappointment

2010-01-05T23:59:00.002-05:00

Well... here's the status report for the past week:

Days remaining: 201
Pounds remaining: 145.5
Inches lost/gained: +0.50 inches
Pounds lost/gained: +3.25 pounds

I guess the holiday goodies finally caught up with me! Though I'm still trying to reconcile how one beautiful little biscotti could possibly contain 170 calories!! And there's just NO way that sweet little lemon-cranberry mini loaf could have anywhere near 537 calories!!

Perhaps I shall blame the pizza and Pepsi Jason and I had last night to celebrate his new job (he's been laid off for two months)!! When I took measurements this morning, almost every single measuring point had gained +0.25 inches AND I had gained +0.5 pounds!! Why do I feel so much smaller and have this happen? Very discouraging, I can tell you.

Oh, well. I did get to the gym three times in the past week and have been drinking much more water than usual. Soda is almost non-existent in the house and I've done better about picking better drinks if I must have a caloried drink.

The going is slow... too slow. Need to kick it up a notch (or two).

Week Four: 2010: The Year We Make Contact

2010-01-04T23:59:00.014-05:00

In the darkness, a stirring was felt. A dry breeze created a tiny flurry of dust; dissolving the creation as fast as it had been made. Soft rustling gave evidence to the slight unease felt by the sleeping group occupying the nearby cave.

A hint of promise and premonition tinged the golden rays of the rising sun as they caressed the harsh, black outlines of the mysterious monolith as it stood, alone and foreboding in the clearing outside the cave.

Full of curiosity and wonder, one now-awakened member moved slowly toward the impressive monument. Taking in the awe-inspiring sight, he hesitantly moved one outstretched finger toward the shiny, non-reflective surface stretching before him, ground to sky.

As the cold blackness of the surface enveloped the inquisitive finger, his primitive brain exploded with a flood of new, unheard of data! The possibilities were endless; prospects were larger and capabilities and talents had expanded beyond all possible belief. What a wonderful new world! What potential and what newness lay ahead!

If you read this to the stirring tones of Strauss' Also Sprach Zarathustra, I'm sure many of you would recognize this hypothetical meeting between earth-bound ape and alien-planted monolith as originally imagined by Arthur C. Clarke and forever immortalized by Stanley Kubrick in his 1968 film, "2001: A Space Odyssey."

In that movie, the enormous black monolith, appearing suddenly and seemingly out of nowhere, represents a tool which first spans the evolutionary gap between ape and man, later the gap between man and space travel, and ultimately, the gap between man in space and man transcending human form. Each of these scenarios presented in the movie showed humans, by mere contact with the monolith, ascending to the next level in their evolution.

Now, I do not hold with these evolutionary theories nor do I believe that we began as lowly apes who can one day aspire to shed their human form and evolve ever upward. No.

This whole metaphor is being used for an illustration of the relationship between us and our potential. Within each human, I believe, lie the seeds of greatness and unfathomable tenacity; the ability to do great things - "something wonderful."

As this new year begins, I am disturbingly aware of the millions of New Year resolutions that have been made throughout the world - resolutions, the majority of which will never rejoice in the light of completion. Hundreds of thousands of people will soon feel the sting and degradation of promises to self that will be broken; four out of every five (according to NYTimes.com). Approximately one-third of New Year resolutions will fail before the end of January.

In 1984, Peter Hyams' award-winning movie based on Arthur C. Clarke's, "2010: The Year We Make Contact" emerged. The whole point of this film was to move the "human evolution" motif forward, bringing the humans into contact with the alien monolith presence (thereby ensuring their ever-upward evolution), while clarifying questions unanswered by "2001."

It being 2010, it was hard to refuse a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to capitalize on this well-known science fiction work. This year is 2010... a year to make contact with your goals, to deal with them head on, and to grapple with previously unresolved issues in your life.

My question to you is, "What is your monolith?"

What will it take to move you from your present state of being to the next level? What will shake you from your comfort zone and transport you to worlds never before imagined? What hopes and dreams are yours to embrace on the other side of your personal barricade?

I know I keep waiting for "something wonderful" to happen; that somehow I will touch the wondrous monolith of weight loss and I shall suddenly morph into a svelte, perfectly-toned woman with not a spare ounce of fat anywhere. Ahhhh... yes.

I have a nagging suspicion that my personal monolith is named Self-Discipline and that it is smoothly shellac-ed with a coat of Self-Control. I'm reaching so desperately for that monolith and I know to touch it is to become heir to the wonders it will unlock in my life... I also know I will never touch this monolith without help from God; it's just too far away and I've been reaching for years.

How desperately are you reaching? How great is your desire to change?

Join me in this year, 2010, and let it be the year we do indeed make contact with true goal success and accomplishment. Find your monolith. Reach beyond your boundaries. Abandon your comfort zone.

Day 17: The End of the Year As We Know It

2009-12-31T23:59:00.001-05:00

It is here that I chuckle to myself as I sit in front of this computer, knowing full well I haven't even THOUGHT about making New Year's resolutions. :)

Yet it is not this thought that tickles various bones, but the thought that I had the foresight to make and ACT upon my New Year's resolution seventeen days ago. I'm sure the tragedy of neglecting such resolutions after a week or two has been averted by this simple action.

This journey started seventeen days ago... I don't need 1 January to kick me into gear (it has never worked that way for me before). Long live the workout!

May each one of you find the courage and perseverance to set forth on your own personal journeys this year; be they weight loss or something else. May my sharing of the sometimes harsh realities of losing weight be a blessing and encouragement to each of you. Most of all, may God give you the fortitude and endurance to accomplish your goals; physical and spiritual.

We run this race to win; so let us run with dignity and humility, looking always to the finish line and to the One who strengthens us in these noble endeavors.

Day 16: Nice Day

2009-12-30T22:07:00.002-05:00

Today was a success on many different levels, the primary level being that the eating stayed under control... a wonderful thing!

Lots of running around today: tutoring, chiropractor appointment, shopping, dinner on the beach and the best of all... Jason's sister is visiting us!! I haven't seen her since the wedding, but have thought of her almost every single day since then - what a blessing!

To top this wonderful day, I have felt more thin and light - though the scale doesn't correspond with my "feelings." My seeming lightness encouraged a better attitude and higher energy level throughout the day, I also noticed.

I did work out today, keeping on par with my current goal of three times per week. Today was a lot easier than Monday in the gym... I lifted a total of over twenty-five thousand pounds and biked further and longer than before.

Day 15: Slow Progress

2009-12-29T23:59:00.002-05:00

Got home in the afternoon on Monday, thereby pushing this status report to today. Come to think of it, it may be better to make my status reports on Tuesday anyway... leaving my Monday open to my weekly article.

I keep having a dread of having to figure out each post what day it is and how many are left, so I downloaded this awesome little piece of software called TimeLeft to give me instant numbers. The blogging shall not be impeded! :D

Today, I took measurements and compared with last week's data

Days remaining: 207
Pounds remaining: 145
Inches lost/gained: -1.50 inches
Pounds lost/gained: -1.00 pounds

In working on this project, I managed to lose a whole pound and one-and-a-half inches during a week wherein I was probably the most out of control with eating than I've been for a while. This culminated by a two day baking spree which necessitated me to make sure all the baked goods created were safe for the people who were about to receive them!

Oh, did I mention there was no exercise involved... unless you count standing for hours mixing and cooking cookies. :P

So far, this week (Week 3) is better. I went to the gym yesterday and hope to go again tomorrow (shooting for three times per week at this point). My eating was considerably more controlled today, assisted in part, I am sure, by the nasty, randomly-flaring face/jaw/ear/tooth/sinus pain which has been a nagging companion for the past two or so months.

Thank you all so much for your comments and encouragement... it really does make a difference and the very thought that I have to post my actual, physical progress each week does check my proclivities toward "hunting the muffins" (slang for anything delicious).

On the positive side, I decided to start drinking more water today and ended up downing 3.5 liters in about five hours. Scary part... none of that liquid registered for hours!! Must have been more dehydrated than I had suspected.

Week Three: Fat People Are Harder to Kidnap

2009-12-28T23:27:00.007-05:00

Taking a sip of her lemonade from a mall kiosk, she glanced at the many people strolling by. So many people... so many attitudes and styles... so many different body types... so many overweight individuals... plain, cotton knits and patterned polyesters alike clinging tightly to every curve, showing every bulge and highlighting each fold of fat.

Puffy arms and dimpled elbows protruding from sleeves too small to contain them. Rotund knees overshadowed by excess heaviness topped by shorts which constantly rode up the legs. Plump no-longer-waist lines overflowing the desperate attempt of pants' waistbands to contain.

How could any self-respecting person display themselves in public when they looked like that?! Didn't they know how sloppy their appearance was? Didn't they care at all?

Well, at least she would never look like that... never in a million years!

And yet, here it is but a few years later and I am coming to grips with that very mindset I once held.

How is it that morbidly obese people can go out in public looking the way they do? I know now. How can one get to such an alarming amount of extra weight? I know now. Do the overweight care how their clothing doesn't fit? I know now they do.

In less than one year, I came to learn just how it is that a self-respecting human being can accumulate so much excess weight, how they can go out in public wearing ill-fitting clothing, and the utter secret shame that accompanies such a state of being.

I am always shocked every time I see my reflection in a mirror. In my mind's eye, I am a little overweight, but not that bad. Clothing is a little tight in some places, but it covers all the undesirable bulges. Anything I can't see behind me is never thought of - i.e., my derriere is not THAT big. Of course, not having a full-length mirror for two years only aids and abets the existence of this mentally-smaller state of being.

About a year ago while in my car, I had turned around to deal with something in the back seat. As I redirected my gaze to the front of the car, I glanced over my still-twisted body. There was a large pile of black cloth tucked next to me and I idly wondered where it had come from. It was then, in a truly surreal moment, that I realized that unknown lump of black cloth was ME!!

My most recent (and most sobering) shock occurred this past Friday. The ever-loving companion of my heart had desired that I purchase some article of clothing in which I would feel beautiful. Later that day, I found myself trying on a handful of tops in front of a - you guessed it - full-length mirror.

As a person who has always had a horror of wearing clothing that showed any undesirable bump, lump, or roll of fat, I was shocked to realize that I was judging the tops, not on the basis of whether they completely masked my various lumps, but on which one looked less tight and thereby, passable.

I had accepted all my unnecessary bulges and rolls as a norm and had given up on the idea that some item of clothing existed which would veil them all (unless I were to take up wearing bedsheets). In that moment, beholding the mass of drooping skin, dimples, and fat rolls reflected so coldly in the mirror before me, I realized I had become one of the generic obese people with ill-fitting clothing I had so often observed and pitied.

I now no longer wonder how people get to this state of excess or how they can live weighing that much or how they can appear in public looking like that... I am living it.

Hopefully, the difference between me and that generic obese person is what I am DOING about the situation. I am not a victim and this state of being CAN and MUST be changed.

Day 10: 3.5 Liters

2009-12-23T23:59:00.003-05:00

The scale was broken yesterday... I didn't sleep yesterday night... Felt as if I would float away because of how bloated I was...

The end result was to wait until today to take measurements, compare with last week, and give a status report.

Days remaining: 213
Pounds remaining: 146
Inches lost/gained: -3.50 inches
Pounds lost/gained: +6.00 pounds

In a phrase, my efforts to work on this project for Week 2 were pathetic; no excuses. Will have to work harder next week... what a dumb time of year to try to lose weight. :P

On the positive side, I decided to start drinking more water today and ended up downing 3.5 liters in about five hours. Scary part... none of that liquid registered for hours!! Must have been more dehydrated than I had suspected.

Week Two: Small Goals

2009-12-21T23:59:00.004-05:00

The lights played gently across the sparkling surfaces of five gems, bound firmly together in their golden enclosure. Snuggled serenely amid three jewels of deepest blue, two diamonds winked knowingly up at the wearer, complementing the glow softly emanating from a plain gold circlet as it was slid slowly onto the fourth finger of her left hand. With a gentle and passing pressure, the wedding band glided over both finger joints and settled firmly at the base of her finger.

Both rings fit so beautifully...

Whoever decided that losing weight before and during this particular time of year has some twisted and sick sense of humor!! What does that say about me?! I am not one of those people who self-inflict the nameless torture of bypassing the myriad of toothsome holiday goodies. Those delights which shamelessly flaunt themselves and imply they possess the power to soothe all inner desires and cravings.

And yet I have purposed to get this weight off within a certain time frame.

The past seven days, though full of fun and fellowship, were full of calorie-laden treats, most of which were consumed at a far greater quantity than should have been allowed.

Yet, despite my failings to my project, the past week was not a total wash. Frequently, I would find myself choosing NOT to have excess sugary treats. I cut back on calorie-full beverages and extra desserts... except for two nights where I went all out and ignored my noble quest.

I have been pondering the benefits of short-term, small goals. Having over one hundred pounds to lose, it is extremely easy to become discouraged and never truly commit to getting the weight off... one pound at a time.

This week, I decided I needed at least one small goal per month... and I have found a goal for December and January!

For December, I think it would be amazing if I made it through the holiday time, parties, and goodies without gaining ANY weight whatsoever. Most likely, the way to accomplish this is by limiting portion sizes and by scrutinizing how much calorie-full drinks are being consumed each day.

My short-term small goal for January is to have my wedding band and engagement ring fit on my ring finger again. Right now, I have to wear the two rings on my little finger because I cannot get the rings past that last knuckle; not even with soap! The other drawback is that they are too loose for that finger and have been lost once before (and only once... I am extremely paranoid about losing them now)

I'm guessing it will take the loss of around twenty pounds to get the finger down to a size where both rings will fit comfortably. I furthermore believe this goal to be possible by the end of January.

So there it is, my first short-term goal on this mammoth journey.

Week One: Dedication

2009-12-14T23:59:00.002-05:00

It was one of the more beautiful days of October and could not have been more perfect. The sun shone brightly down on the little white chapel and a gentle breeze stirred the leaves resting by the just-opened door.

A mischievous gust caught the veil of the radiant woman and caused it to caress the face of the beaming gentleman beside her. Oblivious to these plays by nature, the two stepped from the church and into the world as husband and wife.

Thus began a whirlwind adventure...

Nine months after that joyous day, an adorable bundle of baby boy was added, amid much celebration, to the couple-now-turned-family. A mere sixteen months later, these three looked down into the tiny face of yet another addition.

One could say they lived happily ever after. Or, perhaps, assume a blissful existence surrounded the growing family. In truth, though much happiness and laughter floated through the house, there was a heaviness which made itself evermore present as time passed...

Okay... That was a nice story... but the heaviness which became present was, in fact, weight gained.

I am that once-slim bride of 798 days ago. For the two months in which the wedding was planned, I worked feverishly to get my weight down to a poundage I would feel comfortable displaying in a sleeveless wedding gown!!! It would do well to interject here that I had never worn anything sleeveless in public, much less with such a low back! The pressure was on to make sure I didn't look as if I had been stuffed into the dress.

My method of losing weight wasn't healthy, but it worked and twenty pounds lighter on the day of my wedding, I weighed less than I had weighed in ten years! Not only that, but I was wearing a size twelve dress... a size I had only ever dreamed of for the past eight to ten years! The elation I felt each time I looked in a mirror or felt the looseness of my old clothing was something I had dreamed of for so long and I looked forward to wearing all the smaller-size clothing I had bought for the honeymoon and future life with my husband.

My anticipation was short-lived as I packed on fifteen pounds the month after our wedding, only to discover at the end of that month that I was expecting our first child! My only explanation for the weight gain that accompanied this pregnancy was the semi-depression/shock state I sank into. I ate everything, loved drinking juices and sodas, and preferred to eat out rather than cook... Add to this scenario the complete lack of any exercise or physical activity - I sat at my desk most of the day, only getting up for necessities or to move to another location where I would resume sitting.

In nine months, I gained 115 pounds!!

After our son was born, I swore that I would lose all this hideous weight; I was so disgusted with how I looked. After two or three weeks, I had lost forty-two pounds, but soon lost my resolve and discovered fountain Pepsi again! I talked much about losing the weight and often vocalized my dread of becoming pregnant again at this enormous weight.

To help accomplish this goal, my wonderful husband gave me the gift of a YMCA membership and we began working out seriously and watching our weight. For three months, I worked out diligently at the gym and attended weight meetings... all without losing a SINGLE pound!!!

Suddenly, I lost twenty pounds within two weeks!!

That was the month our son turned eight months old and the month I discovered that I was once again pregnant. I was very disappointed in myself and in the fact that I had only managed to lose twenty pounds in eight months. It wasn't long before I stopped going to the gym and went back to eating whatever whenever.

Overall, my second pregnancy was better and healthier and my total weight gain was five to fifteen pounds until the last week, when the total weight gain hit twenty pounds above where I had been at the beginning of the pregnancy. Not bad!

It has now been six weeks since the birth of my second son and I have decided that enough is enough. Though I have lost all the birth weight from this second pregnancy, I still have 110 pounds to drop just to reach my wedding weight, which (slim as I had gotten) was still 30 pounds away from my goal weight!

This morning, I completely scared and disgusted myself with the realization that the 60" tape measure with which I was measuring my waist almost didn't make it all the way around!! I have NEVER been this heavy before and truly hate it!

I have a closet full of beautiful clothing I cannot wear and instead have been wearing the same maternity clothes for the past two years. That is depressing! In my mind's eye, I don't realize just how big I am and how much weight I've put on - I always picture myself as being MUCH smaller. A trip past a mirror dispels that illusion quickly each time.

Because I have difficulty in sticking with a project until its finish, I have started this blog in the hope that by sharing my struggles and successes, my failures and victories, my tears and laughter, that I may achieve the weight goal I have sought to accomplish for so many long years of self-loathing and in so doing, encourage my readers to achieve whatever goals have been eluding them.

To give my self-challenge finite boundaries, I have elected to reach my goal weight by 25 July... in time for one of my best friend's wedding where I will be a bridesmaid for the very first time! Nothing like being a bridesmaid to a tiny, petite woman and her tiny, petite friends to inspire my grossly obese 5'8" frame to dwindle away. This is a wonderful motivation!

I have 32 whole weeks (or 224 days) in which to lose 140 pounds... this is an average of 4.375 pounds lost per week or 0.625 pounds per day. If a pound of flesh is accumulated by the consumption of 3,500 calories, then a pound of flesh is evaporated by the expenditure of 3,500 calories... which means a total of 2187.5 calories must be burned every day above and beyond what calories are consumed.

Is it possible?

I honestly don't know, but I have to try.

Weekly posts I will promise and most likely will include mid-week updates on my journey; my project. I will post weekly pictures and weight and inches lost. With camera and pen, I have documented my starting weight as well as the circumferences of no fewer than twelve points upon my body.

At some point, I shall reveal my actual numbers, but I would actually like to have a bit of progress before exposing myself to that painful level of embarrassment.

I hope you will read and that you will find some encouragement along your own path, be it weight related or no. Feel free to point out mistakes or errors I may make along the way... this is, after all, the Ruth Cooper Project.