It started in November of 2012. I couldn't eat. I mean, my world had been upended. The Mr. had walked away. I didn't notice it at first. Those first few pounds rarely are noticed, most especially when you are 80 pounds overweight. (According to the BMI chart that is.) By Thanksgiving of that year I noticed that my clothes were fitting just a bit looser. Then I thought, why not? Why not start exercising? At first I did it for all the wrong reasons. I thought what if I could loose weight, that would make him change his mind, right? No. It didn't. But I didn't stop trying. Work out after work out I spent thinking I could win him back by changing the way I look. I mean that was a reason he ran away in the first place. Come New Year's I had lost 22 pounds. Yes, all because of my situation.
In the end it didn't work, but my desire to stay in shape had been formed. I started to run. Slowly at first. I mean I couldn't even run a mile straight without dying. Ok, that is obviously stretching it a bit, but you know what I mean. It was hard. It stunk. I did NOT want to continue, but continue I did. Each time I could I would run. Before church, after work, when the Littles went to bed. Then I started running more and doing the work out videos less. By March I had decided to run my first 5k, the Mastodon Stomp. You can read about it here. I had started with the goal of 30:00 minutes. To me that was highly aggressive. I beat that goal. Then I set another and, well, I won't deny you the journey through that post.
By June of 2013 I had crushed that goal, lost another 25 pounds and was working on improving my per mile time. I had learned the art of healthy eating, but an injury had set me back. Well that, and some choices that I made that weren't the best for me, though I didn't see it at the time. I hit a plateau. I was going no where and getting there faster. I started to give up. I mean, I still had a way to go to get to that size the chart said I needed to be. However, I lived in the land of mediocrity where my exercising was concerned because, well, I had found "happiness". It took another kung-fu move to my heart to get me to snap out of my funk and focus on me again. To focus on the thing that I had found that I loved.
Running. By this time I had committed to a half-marathon and training for that needed to start. It did. I learned a lot about myself. I found my true passion, distance. Miles. Me. My shoes. The open road. A treadmill when necessary. But miles. And so, I kept going. Pushing harder and harder. Learning more and more about what I could do and focusing more and more on my nutrition and the art of the run. By Thanksgiving of 2013, a year pretty much from the weight loss journey's beginning, I had lost a total of 61 pounds.
And that is where I am today, in a frustrating yo-yo of weight loss. I've gained a couple pounds, I've lost a couple more. I've hit yet another plateau. It is a goal to lose the final poundage, to get where the charts say I need to be, but for the most part I want to be healthy. I want to be in a spot where I can successfully run the marathon I am training for. I don't want to look sickly, I want to look healthy. It is my main goal. Mostly, I just want to be happy in my own skin. I'm almost there. Almost. I've come a long way and I'm pleased with what my hard work and determination has done to my appearance, but over all I just want to be healthy. I want to show my Littles that making wise choices with food and combining that with physical activity can help them achieve goals. I want to be around to watch them grow and achieve those goals.
So, as I continue on this journey, the one with me, myself, and I, I hope to be an inspiration to someone. Even if that someone is the person I see in the mirror every morning. To all of you out there who think it is something you can't do. That it is too hard. I just want you to know, a 15 minute mile and a 7 minute mile are still a mile. You have no one to beat, but yourself. You've got this!