On December 19, 2014 I finally had enough of struggling on my own and I made an appointment with a nutritionist. To this day, is probably the most sane thing I have ever done in my life. Bringing in “adult supervision” is what truly has made the difference in my journey. Sainted Mary has worked with me, encouraged me, allowed me to make controlled decisions, and has hidden most of the math from me thereby making it nearly impossible for me to fall into the dark place.
As I sat in my appointment this week with her going through my food journal, still struggling with some of the most recent events and their ramifications, we realized it had been almost a year to the day that I walked into her office. She asked me if I remembered what I weighed when I walked into her office. I told her. According to the “official” scale I have lost 54 pounds in the last year. That’s a pound a week. Considering there were weeks that we planned for no weight loss (e.g. half marathon weeks) that’s not a bad average. I’ve also been taking measurements at home because, well, you can’t live life by the scale alone. In the last year I’ve lost;
- 7 inches in my waist
- 5.5 inches in my hips
- .75 inches my arms
- 4.5 inches in my thigh
- 4 inches in my calf
My hips are currently smaller than my waist was a year ago! I’ve gone through several changes of wardrobe. So many, in fact, that I’m fairly certain that Goodwill knows me by name now; from a 16 to a 6/8.
Last weekend I ran, with friends, the same course that I ran for the 12ks of Christmas last year. I’ve cut over 2 minutes off of my time and I ran the entire way without a single walk break. I’m sure much of that has to do with the weight I’ve lost, but hearing my heart through the stethoscope at the docs office I know that my heart is most certainly healthier too. That is kind of the point isn’t it? To avoid double bypass surgery like my Dad had when he was 40?
I’ve really struggled, though, actually seeing the change in myself. I look at myself every day. I can see that the numbers on the scale are changing and that my measurements are going down, but it’s still hard to see the change. I’m still me. I’m still the geeky goofball I was. I don’t actually FEEL any different. It wasn’t until last night that I truly saw the change.
Last night a friend of mine from Biker Barre was having her holiday party. Another friend of mine had donated to my closet a couple of months back when she was cleaning out her closet. Knowing I had to get dressed rather ‘fancy pants’ for the party at BikerGirl’s I pulled out this rather sleek cut Calvin Klein. Not only did it go on, but it zipped! I stood in my bedroom for a minute completely stunned. When I got to BikerGirl’s house knowing that this was a rare occasion she and I were not only in ‘real’ clothes, but all dolled up we asked her boyfriend to snap a picture. When I looked at the picture it hit me like a ton of bricks. Who the hell is THAT girl? Where did she come from? I barely recognized myself.
I’ve always avoided the camera. I’m just not one who likes getting my picture taken, except in certain situations (e.g. weddings, special events, etc). So, I haven’t really seen a full body shot of myself. I don’t own a full length mirror. This truly was one of the first times I’ve seen myself with this new body. Good grief what a different a year makes.
I’m not done yet. I’ve discussed with Sainted Mary how I would like to try to loose a bit more. My body fat percentage is not where I would like it to be. Doing CrossFit this winter should help with that. If this weather continues to hold running slow with the Maffetone Method will help my aerobic base, and if not, then I have my home away from home, Biker Barre. All I know is that slow and steady wins the race and there is something to be said for adult supervision!
My goals for next year; complete a Spartan Trifecta, run my ass off at all of the races that I have registered for (and not come in last), lose at least 5% more body fat, who knows maybe I’ll finally hit ‘normal’ on the BMI chart! It’s good to have goals.