This isn’t a diet and exercise blog. Now for the but: But, I do run. Sporadically at times, but I still call myself a runner. I was never an athlete in school. I think I played basketball for a season in fourth grade, but I didn’t know the rules and I pissed off the people who actually knew how to play. Although I can’t sing, I took choir in middle school so that I wouldn’t have to take a P.E. class as an elective. I was always on the pudgy side of healthy; never really fat, but not fit either.
Then I met dh. We got engaged and I decided I wanted to look good in my wedding dress. I still wasn’t a runner, but I started going to the gym and rollerblading. I ran on the treadmill at the gym and even bought one but I HATED running on the treadmill. I managed to get in shape and get down to 137 pounds. I only maintained that weight for a few weeks but I settled at 141 and managed to maintain that for several years without having to work too hard at it. At 5’8″, 141 is a pretty reasonable weight. And then . . .
Bubba. I got pregnant with Dylan. I exercised at first but by the middle of the second trimester I wasn’t doing much. I walked Gwen back and forth to school every day but aside from that I didn’t really exercise; I slept. I was exhausted all the time. I got up to 192 pounds and my feet were so swollen that I couldn’t wear shoes. After Dylan was born I was in the 160-170 range but I still couldn’t exercise. Dylan cried. And cried. And cried. The only time he didn’t cry was when I held him. I tried letting him cry. I tried getting him to fall asleep and then putting him to bed; he immediately awoke and started to cry. Pushing a baby in a jogging stroller through snowbanks isn’t a pleasant endeavor. My weight settled at about 165 and stayed there for a long time.
When you are 5’8″, hiding 5-10 pounds is pretty easy. I didn’t notice when my weight started to climb. The holidays arrived: Halloween with its candy; Thanksgiving and its feast; Christmas with its never-ending supply of goodies. One day I woke up and weighed 197 pounds. Weighing more than I did as a nine-months-pregnant lady was a shocker. I started exercising again but never managed to break 162. I dieted. I exercised. I had my thyroid tested. My weight never budged. I settled on the idea that my body’s weight meter had just reset itself and I would always weigh 162. Then I got tired of weighing 162. I started taking long hikes with my friend Alicia. That seemed to help; the weight slowly started to drop and I noticed I was more toned. I started dieting again; it dropped a little more. I started running and it was like magic; I finally managed to get back down to 150. I stayed there for a long time but when I stopped running regularly? You can figure out the rest.
My weight slowly crept back up. My clothes got squeezy. I got tired of being too big for my clothes and feeling much older than I am. So, I added #61 to the list and here we are. Number 60 was added to help me meet goal #61 but losing the weight is important to me. When I finish my 1001 days I’ll be almost forty. That seems a long way off but it’s really just around the corner. I don’t want to weigh 172 pounds when I’m forty.
Twenty-five pounds doesn’t get me back to 137 lbs., but if it gets me back into my skinny jeans (#71) I’ll be happy.
I’m not going to bore you (or myself) with weekly weigh-in posts, but I plan to achieve this goal before my 101 days are up so watch for an update before then!