Day 504: Finish Line... or Mile Marker

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 225: Does Your Life Have a Soundtrack?

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 65: This Isn't Fun Any More

::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.