I just finished reading JUST_TRI_IT's Momentum blog and it's got me thinking.
Unlike my friend there, who feels a rush of momentum from completing a challenge, I have the opposite feeling. It's the same feeling I had this weekend when I walked over the timing strips and past the finish line and realized that there was nobody but my son and I to realize what we had just done. It's a big sigh once I realize I've finished something I set out to do. It's boredom. It's frustration, only it's worse. It's a feeling of being lost.
All along the way, the way was marked for me. In training, I had my Smart Coach app that told me what walks to do when and how many miles. I wrote it all down on my calendar. I carried it with me everywhere I went and if I lost my way at any time, I could simply pull out my little chart and check to see where I was supposed to be. During the race, the road was marked with spray paint on the ground. Go left, right, straight, up, down it told me. And I followed. Paths not meant to be taken were roped off and arrows clearly painted on the ground before me. The way was marked. My path was set. All I had to do was follow.
But once you cross that finish line, there is no one there to tell you which way to go. You are ushered off the track and thanked for your participation and then you have to find your own way. You have to start making the decisions again - do I want pizza? soda? to go back to the car and just go home? I hate to say it, but the feeling of "it's over" is almost always followed with that feeling of "which way now?"
Yesterday I was still lost (hence the "What Now?" blog). I couldn't figure out what my next move should be. And while I started my day the same way I do every day, when the chips and dip were pulled out by my son around lunchtime, I found myself slipping back to pre-Spark patterns. Not once in the past 4+ months have I regressed this far. I spent the entire day in my nightgown watching TV, movies, Gilmore Girls episodes. I made excuses like "my hip still hurts" and let those keep me from even leaving the house. I told myself I was ugly and didn't want anyone to see me. And I actually repeated those words, aloud, to my husband. (Points to him for telling me that was a silly thought and reminding me how beautiful I am, but I just couldn't believe him yesterday.)
It's not that I wanted my "old life" back. Not at all. I was bored and cranky and fed up with everything. And as far as food went, it went a little something like this:
Egg Beaters Omelet with cheese and mushrooms
2 cups of coffee, light cream
Chips and Dip - a lot, too much
A cup of Ice Cream with hot fudge
A cheeseburger with lettuce, pickles, light mayo, ketchup, on white bun
2 Light hot dogs, on white buns with ketchup
2 pieces of leftover Pizza Hut pizza (pepperoni, mushrooms, and sausage)
More ice cream with hot fudge in a waffle bowl
And I felt sick and tired and horrified, and then unfeeling and uncaring and depressed. And I realized that I felt like the old me again. And then I realized something else...I didn't like it. I wanted the me from the day before back. The one who is addicted to sweat and sun. The one that can't let a day pass without taking a short walk or doing some sort of activity that gets the blood pumping. The one who feels confident and strong and amazing and beautiful. Let's face it -- I was lost...again.
Around 8pm I considered just going to sleep and throwing in the towel for the day, and then I realized that I needed something emotionally. I was stunting and silencing myself and I needed to write, to organize, to get it out and see it on paper. A blog just wouldn't work, because I wasn't ready to face SP yet. I wasn't ready to admit my failures to all my friends. It had to start with me. I looked down and found a journal on the floor in front of my dresser. Perfect! I'll go old school and just write it out. I tracked down a pencil and then opened it to the first page. It was then that I realized that this was my journal from my "new life" journey attempt years ago, when I was coming down from 466.6. I hadn't seen it in years. I stopped writing in it right after our move to WV. The last weight recorded in it was 377.
KITHKINCAID made a suggestion on my What Now? blog yesterday that really had me thinking. She said, "I would just set it as your goal to just "exist" for a while at your new weight." But when I found that journal, I knew I wasn't ready for that yet. See, when I moved to WV, when I stopped writing in that journal, that's exactly what I was doing. I was exisiting at my new weight. But something else started to happen to, I stopped focusing on what the right things to do where. Exercise came to a halt. Eating right slowly became less and less important. And I spiraled into a world of living at 377 pounds. I lost another 11 pounds to get to 366 and hit that century mark, but I quickly got myself back to 380 or so, and stayed there for a long time. I'm not willing or ready to do that yet.
Thankfully, KITHKINCAID also made another suggestion - fast walking the jogging sprints in C25k is the actual program is still too difficult. And that thought sounds much better to me, because it gives me a clear path to follow. I'll have directions, goals, things laid out for me to accomplish along the way. And, for now, that's really important.
Because 356 is not good enough. It's great, don't get me wrong, but it's not enough for me right now. The last time I did this, I was happy to sit at 380 for a while and try it on for size. It was a new me completely from the 466 nearly bed-ridden woman I had created. And it was fun to see what new things I could do and try at this weight. But 356 isn't quite different enough. I still feel like just a little smaller version of myself. Yes, I know I can do a LOT more, I realize that every day, but I feel in my heart and soul a desire to do even MORE. I can't let that fire die down...not yet.
(BTW - NOTHING against KITHKINCAID, and I will consider this idea of just learning to be a new me when I think I'm ready to handle it...because I believe it's important to settle into your new life....I just don't trust myself with that yet without worrying I'll ruin it.)
So, no resting for me yet. Hubs helped me last night diagnose the wear on the soles of my shoes and my feet to try to determine my gait from these cues. (I know it's ideal to get fitted at a running store, but the closest one I know of is 2.5 hours away...though I MAY have found one in Parkersburg...which I will be looking into.) I already know I have high arches, and from the wear on my shoes it seems I likely have a more natural gait, which leads me to cushioning shoes. While I'd love to verify and be sure, I may not be able to wait for that. I may have to just order my best guess perfect running shoe and see how it fits when it gets here.
The goal is to attempt C25k with the appropriate equipment. And then, if it is still too difficult, to dial it back again and complete C2F5K first (Couch to Faster 5k *lol*). I'll walk my regular 20 minute pace or so during the walking segments, but then really push to speed walk as close to a 15-minute pace as possible during the jogging segments. If I can make it through and improve my walk pace, I'll be just that much closer to really running! (A dream I can't seem to abandon...and why should I? My doctor has never told me not to try, just to be careful and take stock and interest in what my body is telling me it can or can't yet do.)
After my experience yesterday, the scale has me up 1 pound, back to 357. If I hop right back on the wagon I may hope to see 355 this week and be done with Battle 2. All is not lost.