Tag Archives: mental-health

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NEW DAY 125: Body armor

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.

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NEW DAY 122: Where it’s due

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.

  1. Not including vacations. I am somehow a free spirit when I’m traveling. ↩︎
  2. The only “rule” I’ve set around this that it can’t be with the knowledge that anything I say yes to might be hurting someone — myself or anyone else. ↩︎
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NEW DAY 119: It’s all write

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.

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NEW DAY 108: Hearty fatigue

I sound like a broken record, but I can’t believe how tired I am. I was so drained on Thursday that even after a pair of sweaty workouts during the day, I had insufficient energy to even take a shower before I went to bed. Yet my body is so accustomed to a certain rhythm that it won’t let me sleep any more than I’m sleeping.

I’m realizing that it’s not only my body that’s tired, though. Or my consciousness. It’s mainly my heart. (Metaphysically speaking, of course.)

After a rough event about a year ago, I said to a few friends that I felt like a balled-out melon. It was like someone had sliced me in half, scooped out my insides, and given away the good parts of me, leaving a discarded rind for me to somehow regenerate enough human essence to fill back up if I wanted to keep going.

In February of this year, I felt that same way. I’ve spent the intervening months trying to make myself whole again. I’ve had some success: I’ve produced creatively, I’ve landed a new job, I’ve re-established a few interpersonal connections, I’ve given myself a vacation, I’ve tried new things, I’ve had new ideas, and I’ve made huge strides towards improving my overall health. But underneath it all, I’m still feeling a lot of sadness and loss and hurt. I’m still grappling with a lack of answers that I know I’ll never get. As I’ve said to a similar arrangement of friends, it takes a lot of energy for the body to quietly run depression.exe in the background of everything else.

This isn’t to say I’m consciously miserable or actively struggling, or anywhere near the same spot I was stuck in 7-8 months ago; I’m not thinking about this all day, or even fleetingly every day. I’ve put a great deal of effort into recovering, and I have made progress. The full process simply takes an unknowable amount of time, and there are reminders in my life that are both animate and inanimate which keep some of the deeper cuts feeling fresh. Even the more superficial wounds aren’t healed; they’ve just entered a different phase of scabbing.

Hard things are hard.

I am certain that I’m focusing on the right stuff to restore my quality of life. It’s not — and can’t be — to the total exclusion of all else, though, so the dark stuff is going to creep in sometimes. Learning how to make space for that without allowing it to become consuming is another challenge for me to figure out. I will. I am.

But my non-anatomical heart could use some caffeine.

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NEW DAY 101: Happy trails

One of the things I appreciate the most about 75 Hard is its requirement for an outdoor workout every day. Sure, it’s a hassle if there’s inclement weather that either throws a wrench in my planning or forces me to get attacked by the elements if bad conditions hit during my session, but getting outside has been wonderful for me. The daily dose of sunshine, fresh air, scenery, increased vitamin D, and exposure to nature combine to form a powerful mood booster that has helped stabilize my emotions, allowed me to clear my head, and and given me a prescription to get out of the house to shake up my stale surroundings.

I started tentatively exploring the greenway near my house earlier this summer, well before 75 Hard was even in my vocabulary. One of my first visits there is when I took a spill and busted my knee, which triggered a weeks-long hiatus from going there again. Since beginning 75 Hard, though, that greenway has become a staple in my routine — but I haven’t spent much time on the actual trails that make up the greenway. On my normal trips to the site, I fast-walk (and sometimes attempt to jog) around — and stop for frequent dance breaks in — the large paved surface up a small hill from the parking area. Trudging into the sprawling footpaths has felt intimidating to me; there’s no area map, so I can’t tell where the trails go, see how they all connect, or get a sense of how long it might take me to complete a given circuit. Since the time I’m there is usually my lunch break, I’m hesitant to experiment with what could turn into a very long walk and then be scrambling for time, or late returning to work. On top of all that, the last time I did venture back into one of the trails this summer, I made it about 10 minutes in before I got too winded by the hills to continue, so I turned back and left. I’ve been reluctant to do a repeat of that, so I haven’t bothered.

Until today.

I wasn’t feeling particularly eager to get out there for workout #1 this morning. It’s overcast, I haven’t slept well in days, and I’m bored with the same old routine. I finally coaxed myself down to the greenway and decided today was the day I would mix it up by at last giving the trails another try. Armed with a clear schedule and dozens upon dozens of podcasts to catch up on, I headed into the great unknown.

It took exactly the 45 minutes I needed to count as a 75 Hard exercise sesh. And furthermore, the hills were manageable! Towards the end, when I knew I was completing the loop back to the parking area, I kept trying to identify the point where I had given up and about-faced out of the trail 3 months ago. I never figured it out, even though it was the same trail; I reached the exit in total confusion, lungs full of air and not at all out of breath.

I really enjoyed the different experience and feeling of exploration I got to have today, and I’m looking forward to doing more of that at the greenway. Changing it up can be a small risk, but it’s almost always worth it. Now that I have a variety of new paths to infuse some novelty into my outdoor workout options, I’m feeling a bit more energized about the remaining 26 days I have on 75 Hard.

Again, I’m so glad I’m obligated to get out there for exercise every day. It’s expanding my horizons while helping me become measurably fitter. This challenge has given me the opportunity to surprise myself over and over again, and that’s been priceless.

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NEW DAY 97: To heal, the six

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.

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NEW DAY 91: Walking 9-5

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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NEW DAY 88: Sick challenge, bro

It’s day 85 of recommitting to my health.
It’s day 36 of 75 Hard.
And it’s day 4 of having a yucky cold.

In spite of the simultaneous congestion and leakiness, productive cough, and resulting lack of sleep, there has been no change to the program. I have been continuing to get my twice daily workouts — albeit with tamer intensity than usual — and somehow getting even more liquid than the 1 gallon’s worth of water into my body as required by 75 Hard. It’s actually easy to forget that I’m sick when I’m out there moving, save for the occasional interruptions to hack up something gnarly. (Oh yeah, it’s just as sexy as you’re imagining.) It’s when I stop moving for too long that the symptoms seem to kick into high gear. It’s in large part due to that that I completed all of my meal prep for the week before 10 AM today (Sunday)… but now I have nothing to do until the early afternoon. I’m pounding my first mug of tea for the day (following 2 32-oz bottles of water I’ve already downed this morning) and hoping the stupid amount of hydration I’m doing will help speed up the recovery process.

I’m not sure how I’ve done on weight loss this week since I don’t plan to check until later, but I do know that since my last post, I’ve won a Kickstarter DietBet and the first round of a Transformer. For the Transformer, I’m actually hovering right around my round 3 goal weight already, so — at the risk of being overconfident and tempting fate — I feel like I can count that overall win 5 months from now as already in the bag.

I’ve joined an additional Kickstarter to keep the momentum and small financial incentive going, and may add myself to another Transformer sometime before the year is out.

For the next few days, my game plan is to keep doing my 45-minute workouts at moderate difficulty, and to do both outside in service of health benefits for me and limiting contagion for others who’d be in my vicinity at the gym. I should be good as new by midweek, which will coincide with the halfway point of 75 Hard. It’s kind of crazy how many added hurdles I’ve contended with during the challenge so far: I’ve had sleeplessness, blisters, an outdoor workout in a heavy downpour, horror-movie levels of menstrual bleeding through my clothes while on the elliptical, mind-numbing cramps, and now this lovely little virus. Although its demands are almost entirely physical, the stated purpose of 75 Hard is to improve mental toughness. We aren’t even 50% through yet and already I feel confident about mine.

Oh, and I decided to check my weight before wrapping up this entry. Half the week spent fighting sickness, and still another 3.1 pounds gone.

Let no one come for my tenacity. 💪

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NEW DAY 20: Running scared

What if I can’t do it… again?

There’s so much I can’t do. I’ve failed at what feels like innumerable things in my life, and so much this year in particular. Today, I suddenly realized I am having imposter syndrome about everything. EVERYTHING.

My mind is very unhealthy right now. The only thing that has acted as a release valve has been movement.

My current situation is bad, but one luxury I have is that I can go for a workout whenever I want. It’s become a crutch to the point that I wonder if it’s actually problematic to be creating this type of likely-unsustainable precedent for myself, but it’s extremely helpful to me right now, so I’m gonna punt that potential problem to a later time.

The feelings of inadequacy, the fears that things will never get better, the preoccupation with how much I’m doing wrong, the outsize concern over rather trivial matters, the involuntary “what-if” thinking… they’re consuming. They’re suffocating. They’re draining. They’re LOUD.

But not when I’m running. Thank goodness.

I’ve had a long history of fitness attempts, all of which had notable success before ultimately failing. There were big similarities between the trajectories each time. I don’t remember this apprehensive state being part of it before. I know it’s because the stakes are at their highest now, and that this shitty year is casting a very long, very dark shadow over everything I do. It’s one more inner demon to combat in my very noisy mind amid the deafening silence of the faltering existential landscape around me. The discomfort from working out gives me something to feel other than sadness, and the challenge of keeping myself going when it feels too hard gives me something to think about other than how much I’ve fucked up my life. I kind of remember experiencing those benefits before, when the stakes were lower.

One thing I know I’ve never experienced in my past attempts is a total absence of “bad” cravings. It’s like I woke up one day and had zero interest in consuming anything that isn’t a healthy choice. It almost feels like cheating; as hard as physical conditioning and exercise are, especially in the beginning, the diet part was always harder for me. Temptation lurked around every corner, threatening to derail me in a moment of weakness — even in my dreams. This time, that’s a foreign concept. I doubt it will last forever, but for as long as I have this unexpected and incredibly valuable tool in my arsenal, I will be grateful for it.

While I’d love for the total disinterest in crappy food to be a lifelong friend, I’d welcome a change in the rest of my mentality. Fear’s ability to power my workouts is a tarnished silver lining, but feeling powerful in my workouts on my own is what I’m running after.

I hope I catch it soon.

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NEW DAY 18: Mind over what’s the matter

Apparently I’m in a phase where it I can easily be triggered into anxious feelings. I had a wave of it yesterday that caught me off guard while trying to focus on something important. Today, I felt another coming on while reattempting the same thing.

I wanted to get out of my skin. It turns out that’s not a thing, so I did the next best one: I went to the gym.

I am not exactly in peak physical condition. In my fitness prime, I could go 5 miles on the elliptical without stopping, in well under an hour. The most I’ve been able to do in the past few weeks since I (re)started working out has been 10 not-fast minutes, getting me not-close to a single measly mile.

Today, I challenged myself: what if I could double that?

And then I did.

I can do 20 minutes. I could do 30. I could probably do 60. It wouldn’t be pretty — 20 wasn’t! — but I bet I could get myself there.

Another thing it wasn’t, was easy. Ho.ly.shit., the mental effort to keep going when I stopped wanting to around minute 12! But I pushed myself, because I didn’t want to feel that surge of disappointment for not doing what I had come there to do. I had something to prove. I had something I needed to do.

And I did it!

In 20 sweaty minutes, I ran 1.52 miles. I was consciously trying to keep my speed below 4.5 mph so I could make it the full time I wanted, and I had to rein myself in more than once. My legs have been sore from adjusting to returning to this type of movement after such a long hiatus, and they scream at me as soon as they feel the pedaling motion when I start the elliptical. They howled at me that entire time today, and they’ll probably be jelly tomorrow. But today, I felt powerful for turning my mental nerves into mental command, and exerting my mind over my body.
I was powerful.
I am powerful.

That feeling is unbeatable.