On the 17th of this month, I had been on the Weight Watchers program for one year. During that time, I lost 45 pounds. To some, that may seem like a small amount over the course of a year, but to me it was perfect. I often reflect on that Rolling Stones song that says, “You can’t always get what you want…you get what you need.” I think that during the last year, I got a lot of what I needed, despite the fact that I wasn’t ready for it.
I started the program thinking I needed to lose around 100 pounds, and I was aiming to do it in one year. What I found out was that I needed to do a lot more than lose 100 pounds. It wasn’t just the weight, it was the way I was living my life. I was at a crossroads and about to turn 25. I was in a terrible relationship, and I didn’t realize that it was sucking the life out of me. One year ago I was a depressed, sick person. I just plainly “wasn’t me.” I wasn’t realizing my potential, and I didn’t care about myself.
As the weight started to come off, I got scared. I was happy to see the scale changing, but I wasn’t on board with the emotional changes. I felt vulnerable, and I wasn’t quite ready to take the plunge into being a “normal person.” Around spring I was getting a little better, and I was leaving my house and visiting friends again. I felt like things were starting to change for the better, but I still had that last bridge to cross – my ex-boyfriend/kinda boyfriend/who knows what the hell he was to me. That was the hardest part. That day when he told me he didn’t want to talk to me anymore, after 8 years of us being inseparable, was the hardest day of my life to date. Oh who am I kidding, it was my hardest MONTH to date! But after that month of “I can’t leave the house. I don’t get dressed. I can’t eat.” I started to see things as they were, and I realized that this wasn’t the worst thing to ever happen – it was the BEST thing to ever happen. I got what I needed. I was FREE for the first time since I was 16. I realized a lot about myself over the summer, and those realizations re-started my slumped weight loss. I had gained back about 15-20 of those pounds prior to the breakup, and I was ready to lose them again.
After I was cut loose from that guy, his words kept swirling around in my head, “You aren’t a real runner. You can’t be a real runner. You just aren’t one, because I know people who are and you’re nothing like them.”
I had been wading around in the kiddie pool of running all summer long. I kept telling people, “What if I train to run a 5k?” They would laugh at me because “everyone knows fat people aren’t runners.” I realize now, something really, really interesting about all of that: I wanted someone to give me permission to be a runner. I didn’t just do this about running, I did it about everything. I tried to please everyone – to be anything and everything for everyone. I never once asked myself, “What on earth do I want to do?” I never let myself believe that I was capable of anything. I thought that was selfish.
Somehow, though I’m still fuzzy on how I ever managed to do it with that mindset, I completed the Couch to 5k plan. I went from not being able to run for one minute in August to being able to run for 35 with ease in November. Running for those months taught me a lot about myself. I am capable of anything. I can do just one more minute, just one more mile. I can and will keep running. I can and will finish a mini marathon. I can and will finish a marathon. I will be the best version of myself, because I am capable.
These days, I am nearing that number…the 200 pound mark. I haven’t legitimately been below 200 pounds since I was a freshman in college. In 9.2 pounds, I will weigh 199. Even saying it is weird. I am still struggling with that thought every day. I continue to marvel at how something SO AWESOME feels so scary. When I am honest with myself, I realize that a tiny little voice inside my doesn’t want me to get there. That part of me scares the hell out of me. Part of me still doesn’t believe that I can do it. I want to quiet that voice, and the best way I have found to do it is to run. Not running from something, but running to it, through it – pounding out those thoughts with each step.
I used to laugh at people who called their weight loss a “journey.” Over the last year, I have learned that “journey” is the only word that can describe this. Losing weight is so much bigger than losing pounds. For me, it’s changing myself inside and out. It’s the constant tug of war that my mind and body play. Lose 5 pounds, re-frame my self-image. Lose 10 pounds, start to deal with guys talking to me. Lose 30 pounds, start feeling like I’m really living. It’s scary, but it’s rewarding in a way that I never thought possible. This is the first time I’ve felt alive in years. Every day I feel like I’m waking up a little more.
On the 17th of November, I got a text from that guy asking me if I remembered sitting in my driveway of my mom’s house back in Indiana 9 years earlier on that same day. It was the day we started dating – our anniversary. I laughed for a minute to myself, because that date had already been replaced in my mind with a different anniversary, one that is all about me, only about me, and completely for me. November 17th isn’t about someone holding me down anymore. It’s not about a high school boyfriend who turned into a bad relationship and a wasted college experience. It’s about how I took my life back. That is the anniversary of my weight loss.
One year ago on the 17th, I sat down to write this: The Beginning If i had known then what I was in for, I never would have been able to do this. I have found that the most rewarding things in life are the ones you don’t know how the hell you got through. I am happier now than I have been since I was a kid, and I can’t wait to see what I do this year. What will I be doing on November 17th of next year? What will I look like? What will I be capable of then? I can’t wait to find out.
