I hit 7 miles on the elliptical tonight. 7.18 miles, to be exact — in an hour and ten minutes.
This wasn’t planned until my “what if” voice spoke up somewhere between miles 2 and 3. And then I did it.
My legs are already feeling it, but after a MUCH needed stretch of rest days after 75 Hard, it felt phenomenal to let my body do this.
For those keeping score, 7 miles is more than half the distance of a 13.1-mile half marathon. So.
I guess this is happening…!
AAAAAAAAAAH, WHAT?!
I am officially 75 Hard verified.
🎈I did it!🎈
75 Hard truly lives up to its classification as a challenge: it is challenging. For me, it was not consistently so for the duration, but it had some distinct hallmarks of difficulty that really put me through my paces. The general breakdown was:
First third (days 1-25): Acclimation blossoming into excitement
The early days of adjustment were a little tricky. Day 4, I remember, was my hardest day. I barely slept the night before on top of trying to adapt to the rigor of twice-daily workouts while still living in an extra-obese body. After I made it through that day, I felt unstoppable. The remainder of this third after that was actually fun for me; I looked forward to both of my workouts each day, put tons of thought and care into my meal planning, and found pleasure in reconnecting with my Kindle even though what I was reading wasn’t particularly inspiring. I felt motivated and full of energy. I even remarked to my co-participant friend that I was glad we still had 50 days to go, because the normal 30-day length of most challenges seemed insufficient for experiencing any meaningful changes on this challenge. This was the honeymoon phase for sure, and in retrospect, it’s pretty great that it went on for a full third of the 75-day runtime.
Second third (days 26-50): Excitement converting into routine
As the novelty wore off, building my days around the essential aspects of 75 Hard became second nature to me. The luster of “OMG, I’m doing a beastly job of owning this thing like a badass!” gave way to more of an automatic process with no fanfare. I still embraced checking off my daily to-dos, but with a little less enthusiasm. In terms of the unexpected, this was the hardest part of the challenge for me: I got sick for a seemingly interminable duration (actual time: 14 human days) and felt completely drained from the resulting lack of sleep. However, this was also my most productive and milestone-laden third: I broke 5 miles on the elliptical for the first time in 7 years, and even hit a new personal best record of 6 miles while nearing the end of my sickness. It’s perhaps no wonder that the final third was so energy sapping.
Third third (days 51-75): Routine devolving into slog
It wasn’t a daily internal struggle to force myself into action, but I rarely welcomed workout #2 and found it harder to get energized for those early-morning outdoor workouts in the dark (and increasing cold) on my commuting days. I loved the way being 100% sugar free felt throughout the challenge, but the work required to keep it out of my way by some incidental contact was tiresome, and I resented how difficult it was (and the fact that it shouldn’t be — sardonic thanks to the SAD). As strongly as I believed 30 days wasn’t enough in the beginning, I believed 75 was pushing towards the “too long” side of things by this stage.
In terms of the 75 Hard components, my takeaways go a little something like this:
READING
This was my least-favorite part for the majority of the earlier days of 75 Hard. The problem was that I used the reading requirement as a way to force myself to read things I “should” rather than things I was truly interested in. I finally started reading what was truly of interest in the waning days of the second third, and it (unsurprisingly) made all the difference. My obvious advise to someone considering doing 75 Hard? Pick books you really want to read.
WATER
From day 1, this was the easiest part of my challenge. I’m a freak of nature who has been guzzling water at a high quantity for more than 20 years, so incorporating this aspect required zero extra effort from me; getting a gallon’s worth every day was already part of my life. I know what an advantage that is, because this is the part of 75 Hard that I’ve heard the most people complain about. It was certainly nice to have a piece of this be easy! If I had to give any advice to someone trying to adapt to consuming a gallon of water each day, I’d say try to get the first 25% out of the way before you even have breakfast — or at least before you finish breakfast. (I say 25% because I drink 4 32-oz bottles of water each day, which equals exactly one gallon; your mileage and calculations may vary depending on the size of your receptacle.) You’re dehydrated when you wake up, anyway; this will do you the favor not only of rehydrating yourself, but also of curbing your hunger early on and setting the tone for the rest of the day. Plus, it makes for lighter lifting on the water front as your day goes on. Oh, and get a bottle with a straw. Lack of straw makes life harder.
SELFIES
The dreaded confrontation of your seemingly changeless physical appearance. I didn’t love doing this, but I got used to it — and learned not to look at the pic again once it was safely saved. My guidance about this is to do it exactly this way. Also, wear workout clothes in each photo so it’s easier to see the body beneath them; wearing street clothes makes you look different every day as it is, and those clothes hang on you differently depending on cut, style, etc. Athletic clothes are form fitting, so when you actually do finally go back and review your progress photos, you will have an easier time seeing the changes. The one thing I wish I’d done that I didn’t was take pictures in profile as well as straight on, so I’d add that to my recommendations for this aspect.
FOOD
This is the element of 75 Hard that is customizable: you choose your meal plan at the beginning and never stray from it. I chose to consume no added sugar. I had been doing this inconsistently in the days leading up to my early-June reawakening to physical self-care, but got away from it during my 2-week vacation at the end of July and wanted to firmly commit to it. It was tough chiefly in terms of logistics, as I’ve already lamented plenty of times. I feel GREAT not having that toxic chemical in my body: I have no wild energy spikes and crashes, my teeth never feel filmy, everything has a greater depth of taste, I am more in control of my emotions (which are more naturally regulated without that grainy white poisin coursing through my veins), and my skin looks and feels amazing. I would sincerely love to be sugar free indefinitely; I’ll continue to avoid it as much as possible. To anyone considering starting 75 Hard, I’d encourage you to follow a diet that you’ve always wanted to try — but that only has one element to it: No carbs. No eating after 7 PM. 100 grams of protein a day. No added sugar. I would strongly discourage trying something like Whole 30 for 75 days; it’s both far too long for that madness, and far too many dietary requirements to manage, which is the last thing you’re gonna feel like doing when you’re already juggling multiple components of 75 Hard.
WORKOUTS
There’s not much more I would say here that I didn’t mention above. Keeping variety in my exercise made it sustainable and predominantly enjoyable throughout my experience. It’s exactly what I would advise for anyone doing 75 Hard. That also forced me to push myself past my comfort zone and try out different exercises. There were still plenty of days when I really had to harangue myself into doing my workout at least once — and I mean, I really didn’t have the drive to do it some days — but I did it. It’s well worth adding that I always felt good after every working, not least of all those I was resistant to doing in the first place. My body absolutely needed a rest by the end, and I felt that all over, but I never gave in to that feeling. Sticking to the twice-daily workouts is the proudest part of my success on this challenge for me.
MY TOOLS FOR SUCCESS
You may be wondering about my actual results from 75 Hard. I was really eager to see them myself! So, without further ado…
THE STATS
Workouts: 150 (4 rainy)
Progress pics: 75
Gallons of water: 85+
Days sick: 14
MPH increased, treadmill walking pace: .5 mile (from 2.6 to 3.1 mph)
Minutes on elliptical without stopping: doubled from 30 to 60
Books read: 7.5
Rest days: 0
Alcohol consumed: 0
Added sugar consumed: 0
DietBets won: 6 kickstarters and 2 rounds of a transformer
Weight lost: 38.8 pounds
THE OVERALL/FINAL THOUGHTS
I’m not going to say that I can’t believe I did it. I can believe it, and I knew I would. It was hard and I did it anyway. It got harder and I toughed it out. That feels flippin’ great.
Doing this did teach me a lot, though, and not just about “mental toughness”.
The rigidity of the challenge’s parameters forced me to be flexible when unforeseen events disrupted my plans: I learned to tap into my patience when that happened.
The inevitability of discoverability of my doing this because of my crazy schedule and highly conspicuous nutritional needs necessitated that I share my endeavor with those around me: I learned to show a little vulnerability by allowing people in on this adventure, and also learned that this is a form of support that ended up benefiting me.
Working out so much doubled my daily opportunity for stress regulation AND for the flow state that comes from that mental clarity: I learned cleaner ways of problem solving, and also learned that this is a conduit of creativity for me.
Eliminating sugar got me hyper-focused on diet and nourishment: I learned a ton of scientific and historical information that made me a better-informed consumer and minder of my own health.
The list could go on.
And stats-wise? Ohhhhh, yeah — I’m very pleased with my showing. I had hoped to hit a nice round 40 pounds lost, but 38.8 is nothing to sneeze at. Being clean of sugar feels outstanding, as does having read so many books and completing 150 (!) workouts. What feels best, though, is seeing the difference on the face of Day 13 Me and Day 62 Me. Yes, there’s a lot that’s noteworthy in the comparison between my progress pics from day 1 vs day 75, but the stark contrast and the unexpectedness of seeing it for the first time when I happened to look at 13/62 side by side while the challenge was still on, was a key moment of 75 Hard for me — and, truthfully, of my health journey overall. I hope that as my hard work continues, I will continue to see a discernible shift in my natural expression that indicates a positive adjustment in my mental health. That’s the real prize in all of this, and the one I’m most eager to wrap my arms around.
So, I can now say for the rest of my days that I am a 75 Hard finisher. No technicalities. No exceptions. No loopholes. No ifs, ands, or buts. Just earned bragging rights for life. I almost typed “And that’s enough — no need to do it again!” Then I remembered I’m half cracked, and I should never say never.
Because another thing I never thought I’d say is, “and now, I turn my attention to training for a half-marathon!” But here I am. Saying that.
But first: rest.
We have this idea that armor makes you stronger. It means you’re constantly ready for battle, and you sure don’t intend to lose. Suiting up with impenetrable metals to block attacks from deadly weapons sure does sound like a power move.
Or does it?
I’m not so sure.
True toughness requires vulnerability. True strength means not yielding to and masking your weaknesses. True power demands the risk of losing it.
Loading up with body armor isn’t a show of force. It’s a projection of fear. I know because I’ve done it all my life: I’ve worn my extra weight like a protective layer to prevent anyone from getting close enough to hurt me.
The problem with this approach — and the inherent irony in it — is that being heavy does precisely nothing to shield anyone from hurt. It only invites a different kind of externally inflicted pain, and the internally inflicted kind, too.
Loneliness.
Conspicuousness.
Mockery.
Rejection.
Othering.
Embarrassment.
Ostracization.
Discomfort.
Shame.
Isolation.
Regret.
Self-disgust.
That’s great insight to have in retrospect. Cruelly, having no consciousness of it until it’s damn near too late is perhaps the most painful consequence imaginable.
Now that I’m in the process of removing a lifetime of body armor, exposing myself to the potential for the type of pain I’ve hidden myself from since before I was old enough to recognize what I was doing feels like a scary move. But what is it they say about true courage? It’s feeling the fear and doing it anyway. Not just to prove your dominion over fear — but to prove something even deeper, even bigger, and even more meaningful to yourself.
I’m discovering a whole other person beneath the physical, emotional, and psychological layers through my weight loss mission. This is a veritable existential excavation that was not the intended goal of prioritizing my health, but it’s by far the most important one. I’m giving myself something no one else can give me: another chance at living the life I want, the way I want, as the person I want to be.
True fortitude, it turns out, is learning to live without the armor. It in itself is hard work that not everyone is cut out to handle without some grit.
I’m learning this lesson more profoundly every day — one pound at a time.
A funny thing happens when you start saying yes to things. You become your own best friend.
Going straight to “yes” is not my factory setting. I overthink and overanticipate everything. It makes me an excellent planner, a cool-headed navigator of emergencies, and a strong leader. In equal measure, it also makes me an inadvertent self-saboteur of my own enjoyment. I not only look before I leap; I look towards the landing zone the whole way down, so much that I miss the full experience and thrill of the leap itself.
Or at least, I was that type of person.
My true nature isn’t suddenly erased and replaced, of course. I will still instinctively mentally map out every possible outcome in the name of contingency preparation for even seemingly inconsequential things, 90% of the time.1 The difference is that I now know that even if consequences other than the most-ideal ones happen as a result of my decision, it’s probably worth that bit of messiness for the trade-off of feeling enjoyment during the leap. Why should I turn everything into stakes-based choices full of weighted consequences? If it sounds good, why not jus say yes and trust myself to figure out how to go from there no matter what? Nothing is guaranteed; all my scenario planning is only a best guess, anyway. It makes more sense to believe that it — whatever it is — will work out as it’s meant to regardless of my decision, and know that I am capable of managing that — whatever that is — when the time comes.
This was not a choice I actively reflected on and then made, but rather my analysis of how my mindset shifted and my lived aftermath in the time since. I can honestly say that my life has improved as a result of it. I wasn’t consciously aware that I needed this change, but circumstances conspired that pushed me into it, and I’ve never looked back. I talked about it in elusive terms here and here, but as I’m feeling kind of wistful today, I’m going to expound just a little on some of those pieces now.
While I was aggressively job hunting this summer, I got to the final interview stage with what seemed like a good prospect. Unfortunately, that stage was a rather ludicrous task-based presentation I needed to prepare and then deliver to a 7-person panel before a Q&A. Concurrently, I was taking inventory of my relationships and re-evaluating their places in my life respective to the effort it required to maintain them. This was not unrelated to how people showed up (or not) for me when I was going through a very difficult time that had begun in February and from which I was still very much reeling. On top of this, I was plagued with self-doubt born of that struggle, and of my lifelong subpar but worsening physical health (and appearance) at a time when I desperately needed confidence to surmount the various hurdles on my path to a safe landing.
Enter: the external forces.
I found a professional support group of people who saw through my shaky veneer, to my true self. They supported me, they reminded me who I am, and they commiserated with me — but more importantly, they did so without coddling me and letting me avoid doing the work. They pushed me to tap into my strength, which wasn’t as inaccessible as I had made myself believe. Being a part of that community helped me rediscover my brand of personal inner magic that I needed not only to get through that season, but also to present to outside entities that needed to see it in order to find me an appealing candidate.
When I first started my tentative return to the gym, I was unsure of my ability, weak on my commitment, and hesitant to push myself in the way I needed to. Early on, I got an injury that worsened when it got infected, and the necessary pause from high-intensity workouts forced me back into my head when I had finally gotten back into my body. Knowing the risks that this presented, I took control by returning to playing instruments and starting to venture back into unstructured creative writing again. It kept things under control when my physical outlet was temporarily unavailable.
I gradually started getting out of the house more. I intentionally spent productive time in cafes on weekdays with a then-acquaintance who has a wfh job, who has become an actual friend as a result. We helped each other not only stay focused during those sessions, but we also encouraged and supported each other as we both grappled with getting through our respective tough situations.
There were also plenty of constants who were by my side throughout that wobbly chapter of my life. They checked on me, they lovingly imposed kind gestures on me, they found ways to give me space AND make sure I knew they were in my corner. I would be remiss to not mention that. I am, and have always been, as people-rich as it gets.
I finally found an insightful, competent therapist with true professionalism but also an actual personality, whose care and commitment I have never questioned. Working with her and being able to tell her things I have not talked about with anyone else has been a huge relief, not to mention a huge help in keeping a clear head. It’s the first positive experience I have had with therapy after several attempts over the years, and it came along at exactly the right time.
And finally… the doorstep deliveries. Not literal ones. Ones that showed up on my phone. In the form of completely unexpected and out-of-the-blue texts. Which were total context shifts from platonic to very much NOT that. From two different guys. Within the same week. The, um, charge of that got me going — interpret that however you want and you won’t be wrong — and gave me good distractions (enjoy the leap!), made me feel desirable when on my own I was feeling the opposite, and provided enough of an energy boost to kick my workouts into high gear. I almost don’t want to give this kind of credit here, but keeping it 100, it’s correctly placed. My motivation skyrocketed at the moment that turned out to be the most essential. Doorstep deliveries set the energy bar , which became the pivot point that has originated my inarguably successful recommitment to my health for the second half of this godawful year — and let’s just say the porch light is still on.
That all being said, the biggest share of the credit ultimately belongs to… me.
Saying that is not selfish. It’s not even bragging. It’s just true.
The universe could have lined up this same set of circumstances for anyone, and they might have done different things with them — or they might have done nothing at all with them.
I said yes.2
At every turn, I chose myself. I chose my actions and I enacted my decisions. I stayed on my own side. I respected my needs and what would give me something positive in the moment, promising myself to capitalize on it and bank on a high-yield ROI. Was it perfect? Of course not. Was it without hiccups, bumps in the road, weirdness, or twists and turns that produced entirely new challenges of different proportions? I mean, obviously not; that’s way too specific a list for the answer to this (clearly rhetorical question) to be anything but no. But the point is, I saw things clearly and for what they were, and did not let any undesirable potential or real outcomes deter me from my priorities. When I got stuck in my head, I knew how to get myself out safely. When I felt apprehension, I believed in my abilities to handle it and coached myself through it. When I caught myself wondering if I should have done something differently, I shrugged it off as a pointless internal debate because I was where I was; the only thing I could do now was move forward, with a little more insight and wisdom. And, importantly, when presented with any new challenge, I continued to say yes.
That’s how I wound up on 75 Hard. I’m currently on day 70. I’ll do a whole other long-winded post after I successfully complete the 75 days, so I won’t veer off in that direction now. What I will say is that it has not only solidified my path forward, but it may very well have helped me change my life.
I will end with this: being your own best friend isn’t sad. It’s a necessity. By saying yes to things outside of my head, I was actually saying yes to myself. That’s the true choice I am making every day. I choose fun. I choose joy. I choose quality interactions over quantity of friendships. I choose health. I choose laughter. I choose trying. I choose failure as a possible option, and I choose to not be afraid of that. I choose a fuller life. I choose me.
I say yes.
Sometimes when I have nothing to say, I end up saying the most.
I generally prefer to keep the parameters of this blog limited to weight loss, weight management, and physical fitness, with the occasional foray into related areas like mental health that directly connect to the experiences I have along my path. I’ll (perhaps annoyingly) refer, in vague terms, to parts of my personal life that have an impact on these things, simply because they inform my thoughts and/or feelings around a given topic — but without straying too far from the crux of Life Can’t Weight or revealing too much about myself. And to be completely honest, that can be really hard at times.
One lesson I have (re)learned this year for the gazillionth time is how absolutely essential it is for me to keep a good balance of systems in place that help in my overall picture of self care. Wellbeing is about the delicate, interconnected components of life and how they affect us as humans existing in our time and place. Precious little is within our control when you stop to think about it; how we manage our immediate environment is in many cases the extent of it for a given person.
My special combination that keeps me feeling in check is quality nourishment, meaningful socialization, productivity (through professional or personal work), creative output, physical activity, reflection-based expression, and sufficient sleep. When any of those things is absent or underrepresented for too long, the whole system breaks down. Lately, managing my physical health has been so overrepresented that it has dominated my schedule and, consequently, my thoughts. Although each day is still different, the routine and my thinking are more or less the same.
The effect this has is that it makes me less inclined to write here or anywhere else, and particularly when I have too much time between therapy sessions, my reflection-based expression time suffers. Because I’m not operationalizing that release valve, my sleep suffers. With less energy from a rest deficit, I have no interest in creative pursuits. Without a proper channel for my creative drive — on top of the lacking energy and sorted-out emotions — I feel ill-equipped to socialize; I’m less patient, more taciturn, and in the mindset that I’m poor company and should spare other people from that type of interaction.
You can see where this is going. One by one, the dominoes fall, and the whole structure topples. And that’s the state in which I currently find myself. I’m writing here right now because I have nothing to say — and that says it all.
There are so many thoughts constantly racing through my mind, it would stand to reason that I could simply grab a hold of one of them and use it as a writing topic, or a real-life conversation starter, or even an opportunity for creative expression. Instead, what happens is I fall through every mental trap door that leads to some tangential thought that spirals into something else entirely, and I get stuck in an endless web of overthinking that allows zero peace. The only time my brain is quiet is when I’m doing a challenging workout that requires my full focus. As much as that sucks when I’m not pushing myself through intense exercise, it’s such a gift that I can count on that time to convert the ceaseless frenetic nonsense into a physically healthy endeavor while also expelling it from myself, even if only for a brief period.
The story of this year has been just get through this. First, it was just get through this bad news. But before that could happen, it became just get through this loss. Concurrently for part of that, it was just get through this sickness and just get through this financial drought.
Just get through this uncertainty.
Just get through this horrendous job market.
Just get through this emotional pain.
Just get through this physical pain.
Just get through this relationship strain.
Just get through this boring book.
Just get through this unpleasant conversation.
Just get through this adjustment period.
Just get through this self-doubt.
Just get through this waiting for a response.
Just get through this waiting for an initiation.
Just get through this 75 Hard challenge.
Just get through this day.
Just get through this night.
Just get through this sentence.
Until what?
When does it get better? When is it enjoyable and not just an impediment on the way to something that is? More importantly, how do I activate enjoyment instead of just getting through waiting for it to happen?
There aren’t answers to these questions. As with many things, the only way out is through. I can decide one thing: whether to keep going or not. For now, I choose to keep going.
When I’m out of survival mode and my brain space frees up again, I can commit seriously to reclaiming my agency beyond that flimsy choice.
I have to just get through this first.
This has been a frustrating week. I am feeling so TGIF, I could be watching Boy Meets World. (#Millennials) In fact, here’s a gif — because you can’t spell TGIF without GIF.
(Yes, I know it would have been better to have put a Boy Meets World gif there, but I didn’t. Let’s move on.)
The 75 Hard tasks this week have felt like a heavy lift, particularly those pesky second workouts. Getting myself psyched up enough to go do workout #2 every evening has been an EFFORT. But I’ve been doing it! I still feel good at the end of my exercise sessions and have no designs on quitting the challenge, but the challenge was much easier and more enjoyable until the recent switch away from when I genuinely looked forward to both. Sixty-two days is a long time to go without a single rest day, and needless to say, 75 days is even longer. It’s simply starting to wear on me.
…believe it or not, “wear on me” is actually a phrase I didn’t intend to use there, but damn if it isn’t a completely perfect pivot point — because I just finished combing through my library of 75 Hard daily progress selfies and noticing the differences in how my workout clothes have been *literally* wearing on me these past 2 months. The garb I’m usually rocking in my photos is my outdoor workout stuff: shorts and a sleeveless top. Today, I wore the exact same combination of top and bottom attire that I wore back on day 13, so I pulled up the two pics for a side-by-side comparison.
Holy whoa.
I knew I could feel a difference in how the clothes were fitting, but actually seeing the differences through the cruelly objective camera lens really hit. A pu pu platter of my reaction thoughts:
It’s been an eventful 9 weeks, both in terms of what my body has extraneously endured and persevered through in the name of sticking with the challenge, as well as in the grand scheme of things life wise. It’s no wonder I’ve felt drained lately (although that’s been less of an issue since my most recent period ended a few days ago). If I were capable of sustaining a camera-lens level of objectivity at all times, I’d more readily have the accurate perspective that I’ve absolutely dominated these past 62 days in spite of some true nonsense that’s come my way in that time.
I will honor the sad person in the day 13 photo who wants to feel better, to look better, to do better, to be better. I know I’m gonna finish 75 Hard — I know that. And it’s gonna feel freakin’ fantastic.
For the second week in a row, my weight loss wasn’t what I was hoping for.
It’s true that any loss is a move in the right direction — and objectively, the amount I shed this past week was an amount I’ll probably kill to have a few months from now — but the back-to-back modest decreases on the scale seem unaligned with the effort (and exhaustion) I’ve put in for the past two weeks.
As always, I try to keep perspective: weight loss during 75 Hard is a happy byproduct, not the primary goal. I’m working on my mental toughness and keeping commitments to myself, and I’m coming through on those fronts so far. That said, I’d be lying if I claimed to have no hoped-for final total number of lost pounds in mind for this challenge — and it’s hard not to fixate on that alongside my personally disappointing numbers from the past two weeks.
BUT there are plenty of other positives to focus on. For one, I’ve racked up another official DietBet victory as of today, and am only 1.1 pound away from winning the Kickstarter that ends a week from now. I’ve persisted with 75 Hard (day 58, baby!) and continued to prioritize my health. And, most excitingly, I’m seeing more and more evidence of the physical changes in my body.
Over the weekend, I tried on 7 dresses that didn’t fit when I first started 75 Hard. Three of them now fit, and the other 4 should by the time the challenge is over. I found my very old fat pants and saw tonight that they’re too big at the waist by about 6 inches. I’ve moved a ring I’ve been wearing on my ring finger to my middle finger so it won’t slide off. I can see more bones in my hands and feet. Perhaps most unexpectedly and strangest of all: my shadow looks thinner.
Now I know that shadows aren’t the best metric of, well, anything. But I’ve been staring at mine during outdoor workouts for nearly 2 full months as it walks, jogs, and dances alongside me. During these outings, I’ve seen the bulges and pudge accentuated by the sun in ways that not even the mirror is cruel enough to shove in my face so mercilessly. Suddenly, this week, there’s, like… a whole lot less of that.
My figure is smoother. It’s not just that it moves more fluidly; its lines are more continuous. It’s more graceful, less bulky, and somehow more confident. It’s perhaps a strange thing to notice, but it’s also an impossible one not to.
It’s important to pay attention to how all of the normal markers are changing during a weight-loss mission. Non-scale victories are validating and affirming when the numbers don’t feel satisfying, and they’re helpful data beyond the unreliable narrator that is That Number. Things that keep me sane are pretty worthwhile, I’ve found, so I’ll always welcome them with open arms — even if some might call them a little shady. 😉
Four days after I broke 5 miles for the first time in over 8 years, I hit 6 for the first time ever in my life. I hit 6.01, to be exact: that’s 6 miles and .01 to grow on.
My nasty hanger-on of a cold is still not all the way gone (!), but I’m putting nails in its coffin every chance I get. Breaking 6 miles tonight was not planned; I had a what-if spark early in my elliptical run and just felt I could get there — and then the feeling of what if and I could turned into I’m gonna make this happen. And I did make it happen! In 65 minutes exactly.
It was not as easy as that; I did almost stop at a few different points, and I did wonder if I was writing checks my body couldn’t cash. Would I potentially injure something in this mad pursuit? Would I be decrepit the next day? Well, to hell with the fear. There’s no place for that in this. Decide you want it, and then go get it.
I’m recovering not only from illness, but from trauma. The first half of this year was miserable, yes, but it’s deeper and longer than that.
I didn’t know if my legs — perpetually at high risk of ankle injury — could still do this.
I didn’t know if my lungs — 7.5 years removed from multiple massive pulmonary embolisms — could still do this.
I didn’t know if my mind — plagued by faltering, tentative confidence still in the process of rebuilding — could still do this.
Well… they could.
And they did.
With every step towards 6.01, I proved something critical to myself. It’s not just that I’m physically capable or mentally strong. It’s bigger than that. It’s that I’m healing. I’m learning to trust myself, to believe in myself, and to care for myself again. And even if it’s months before I see 6.00 on another gym screen, I will revel in the moment when I was still unsteady and took command of my story like never before anyway. Because I wanted to, I believed I could, and I decided to.
That’s fortitude. That’s resilience. That’s growth.
That’s recovery.
That’s what leads to peace.
I didn’t cry when it happened like I thought I would. Something even better happened: I got emotional, and I leaned into it. I let the waves of pride, surprise, impressed-ness, relief, success, joy, and accomplishment wash over me. I felt it all. After months years of self-preservation-based blunted feelings, I felt it all. It was the type of rush that is life-affirming. It was the type of rush I thought I was no longer capable of experiencing.
POSSIBILITY.
I may find a way back after all.
I broke 5 miles on the elliptical tonight. In one hour, I ran 5.22 miles.
I haven’t done that since 2017.
Truthfully, I didn’t know if I would ever be able to do it again until recently. But tonight, I decided I wanted to do it. And then I did it.
At 4.25 miles, I knew I was going to do it — and I almost started crying right there on the machine.
But I didn’t. I just kept running.
It felt INCREDIBLE to hit 5 miles again all these years later, all this weight — physical and emotional — heavier, all these years older. But part of why I knew I could do it tonight is that I’d done it before. Even being still sick and fairly worn out from a long week, I knew I could do it.
When the day comes that I can breach new territory and do 6 miles, I will cry. It will be the happiest I’ve ever been on the elliptical.
For now, that honor belongs to tonight.
Today, I became a person who uses a walk pad at their standing desk.
It wasn’t the plan. It wasn’t the plan at all. But what was the plan went awry when my work day kind of got hijacked, and the only way to get in my first 45-minute workout without waiting until the end of the work day — which would have meant doing my second workout at dark o’clock — was to do it while jobbing.
I’ve only ever even used my walk pad one other time: yesterday. It was not a smooth experience; I was stumbling, veering off center, and reaching the back of the machine with my feet. Twice I had to jump off to the side when I misstepped and risked falling off the thing. I wasn’t even going 3 mph and it was that tricky for me! Now throw in a work station, actual tasks to concentrate on, and requisite dexterity to operate a mouse and a keyboard while in motion, and it’s a miracle I’m not typing this from a hospital bed. It wasn’t a smooth near-hour of work this afternoon, but I made it happen. Having the desk in front of me actually had a stabilizing effect, too. Now that my walk pad is in my office, I suspect it will become part of future wfh days — although hopefully with a little less hastiness.
I’m still (!) sick with this nasty cold, but I finally feel as if I’m climbing out of that hole and it’s on its way out. I can’t wait to feel like a person again, not to mention to get back onto the elliptical and see how many miles I can notch in my 45-minute session! Crazy how a cold can be worse than a more-serious bug. Here’s to NO MORE SICKNESSES in 2025!
I mean, I don’t need help encountering obstacles. I get in my own way quite well, thankyouverymuch. Trying to upcycle an old t-shirt tonight, I cut my finger open with fabric scissors. Really impressive, the innovative ways I find to hurt myself and brush up first-aid skills. **eye roll** This is only the latest self-inflicted injury since Saturday, when I managed to burn my stomach while taking a tray out of the oven. That’ll teach me to think I can cook in a sports bra! (Actually, it will probably teach me nothing.)
75 Hard, you’re a laugh riot.
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