Run, Forrest, Run.....

Today is Leap  Day, 29th February. Traditionally a day when roles are reversed and frustrated spinsters are encouraged to propose to their stubborn commitment-shy beaus and hopefully bag themselves a shiny new solitaire diamond  and a lifetime of wedded bliss. Wouldn’t it be nice if all things could be reversed today and we could declared today as “Negative Calorie Day”?  How awesome would it be if, on this date every four years, all foodstuffs consumed would have a positive effect on our  waistlines?  How fantastic if we could have a government-endorsed Gorge Fest, safe in the knowledge that we were contributing in a good way to our health?  Sadly this is not the case, and no trying to justify to myself will change the cold, hard facts that I have no excuses to stuff my face, and that  I if choose to do so then I will gain weight. Sad but true…..

I had a little taste of this the other week when my husband and I took a well-deserved Valentine’s Break to a spa hotel not far from  us. We had a lovely time, mainly, there were a couple of hiccups, such as having to ring up reception to demand our sparkling wine and chocolates which were supposed to be waiting for us in our room on arrival; the ‘breakfast in bed’ which arrived 45 minutes late and stone-cold; and the fire alarm incident (an alarm went off which  unfortunately caught us during mid-afternoon sparkling wine and vodka fuelled – ahem – ‘recreational activities' in the hotel room  – cue frantic, drunken searching for clothes while the alarm screamed away, only for it to turn off just as we reached the door..). 
But apart from that a fabulous time was had by all. 
Alcohol was drunk, chocolates were scoffed, a large three course meal was consumed and the Plan was well and truly abandoned for 36 hours….And do I regret it? Not really…

The Monday morning after what has become fondly known as my Valentine’s Blowout (no innuendos please..), I had the day off work as it was Half Term for the kids. So I booked myself in for a morning weigh-in with my consultant. I rarely have weigh-ins before 5pm as I’m a staunch 9-5 er so I exploited this opportunity fully.  I abstained from breakfast, took in minimal fluid and donned my lightest clothing in the hope, despite my weekend indulgences, that the scales would be kind. I was very fortunate, and that day I was advised that I had lost another 2lbs, bringing total weight loss to 10st 2lbs. 
I was utterly thrilled – I had got away  with it!! 
However, my sage consultant had some words of warning for me not to rest on my laurels. In her experience with other clients, she had seen what I would call the “Stealth Weight Gain”. This is a bit like the “Stealth Hangover” when you wake up the Morning After a heavy night feeling fresh as daisy. Do not be fooled, for by teatime you will be begging for death when the full force of the alcohol hits you straight in the face…
The Stealth Weight Gain can also catch you unawares, making it’s presence felt at a subsequent weigh in, just when you thought you were out of the woods. I am very glad that this warning was imparted to me as I am sure that, otherwise, I would have been highly tempted to continue on the slippery slope of indulgence believing that “it wouldn’t hurt”. It would be so easy to convince myself that, as I had got away with once, I could get away with it again. Dangerous thinking…
So, armed with this knowledge I aimed to be resolute for the following week, sticking 100% to plan, drinking my water and staying with the exercise. At the consequent weigh-in I stepped excitedly on the scales, expecting a typical good weight loss. Instead I found that I had stayed the same. 
The prophecy of my  wise adviser had come true – the Stealth Gain had manifested itself, albeit in a lower form, but there was no doubt that the scales were repaying me for my indulgence. 
I am very grateful on two counts, firstly that there wasn’t an actual gain, and ,secondly, that I heeded the advice from my consultant. Had I not, I’m convinced that I may  have had to temporarily hand back my Ten Stone Rosette until I had rightfully earned it again.

Apart from the aforementioned Monday, I sadly had to work for most of the kids’ Half Term holiday , but I was afforded a day off on the Friday.  And, boy, did I make the most of it!  I took my son, and 18 of his 10 year old rugby playing peers (plus a few extra parents – I’m not completely masochistic!) to a nearby trampoline warehouse where had booked the kids in for two hours of, hopefully, Half Term Energy expending fun.  On the day we had a spare, prepaid ticket, so one Mum and I decided to split this in a one hour session each of adult bouncing on the trampolines ourselves. I was a little trepidatious but also determined to have a go – because I could.  Just  nine months earlier I wouldn’t have been able to, mainly because I was one and a half times over the weight limit for the apparatus, but also because there was no way my unwieldy, obese body could have handled the exertion. Even until recently I probably would have turned down the opportunity, afraid that I wasn’t up to the effort and also incredibly self-conscious that the view of a large lady attempting to spring  across the warehouse, chunky limbs flailing and muffin-top undulating,  would have instilled a mixture of mocking amusement and abject fear into my fellow trampoliners. I’m sure there would have been cries to keep the first aid kid and defibrillator close by!  Not so this day! Tentatively I donned my “special socks” and tiptoed to the battle zone. My first bounce was a bit of a disaster as I had drastically underestimated the sheer bounciness of the nets, and I rebounded dramatically to land flat on my back.  Dignity – disposed of!  After that I slowly got the hang of it and found myself dashing around like Tigger, having a whale of  a time. I felt 10 years old for the first time in, well, nearly 36 years. The freedom I felt was just so liberating and empowering. Now, dear reader, at this stage, I feel that I better place a warning – a kind of disclaimer to “ladies of a certain age” . Thankfully I had been warned by a fellow Rugby Mum who had previously participated, of the toll that defying gravity rigorously and rhythmically can have on one’s Pelvic Floor. And, that, my dears, is another warning that I am grateful for. I came prepared with  a suitable stash  of Tena Lady, and thus was, thankfully, saved the shame of being evicted from the warehouse for eliciting an evacuation of the bouncing area “for  sanitary reasons” and accruing a subsequent cleaning bill.  If you are reading the previous paragraph with puzzlement, get your Mum or your Wife to explain to you, and be grateful!!!

The following day I was expecting to suffer from Bambi Legs, but I was surprised to feel just a small twinge in my my upper thighs. What really hurt were my shoulders, and I can only assume that this was from flinging my arms about, Windmill-Style, in gay abandon as I bounded from net to net like the reborn child I had become.
This experience has been very enlightening and has made me realise how much I have missed out on whilst I was carrying the additional ten stones plus before I finally decided to shed them. It really hit home when I asked my son what his favourite part of that day had been. He looked me in the eye and with heartening sincerity, said to me “It was when you joined us, Mummy. I loved bouncing with you and seeing you have so much fun”. 
Those words, I can tell you, really hit me in the feels. 
Suddenly I was filled with an overwhelming regret and remorse for the times that I didn’t join in with activities with my children. All those times I sat on the side-lines watching them, feeling fat and ungainly. So many opportunities lost. 
At that moment, I decided “never again” and am already planning my next physical ventures with the kids. My daughter and I have signed up to do the Race For Life together this June. She begged me to do it last year and I found myself incredibly relieved to find the date clashed with a family event. This year – no excuses, and now I have to put my money where my mouth is. Training starts imminently.

Speaking of running, I recently found myself watching the movie Forrest Gump. It is a very cleverly written movie, well deserving of the Oscar accolades, and is packed with wisdom and analogies for life. Regular readers of my blog will already be aware that I am fond of using movie anecdotes as metaphors, and it was during one particular sequence of this great movie that I kind of saw parallels with my own weight loss journey.  Stay with me…this will hopefully become clearer as we go along….

The sequence I am referring to is where the eponymous hero, Forrest, after losing his beloved Jenny once again, decides to don the running shoes that she gave him as a gift , and just “go for a little run”. Before he knows it, he has reached the far end of his town, so he decides to continue to the end of the county where lives. After that, still feeling the need to run, he opts to run right across his state and, before he knows it , he is running across the whole of the United States, several times….

He does this for “ three years, two months,  fourteen days, and sixteen hours”, attracting a following and media attention as he goes along, before he finally decides his running days are over.

So where am I going with this little analogy? Read on, and hopefully you will be enlightened…

Now that I have lost over ten stones in weight, my weight loss has become undeniable. People notice it. People remark upon it. And people ask me questions about it. 

One of the questions I am frequently asked is “what made you want to start losing weight?” . And my answer is “I don’t really know, I just decided one day to do it”. 

Unlike for some, there was no ‘lightning bolt moment’, there was no one key incident or event, no terrifying photograph that inspired me to finally do something about the weight that was dangerously encroaching on my health and longevity. 

There was none of that. One day, I simply decided to “Just Do It”. 

Like Forrest, I just decided to ‘go running’. 

Also, like Mr Gump, I didn’t really have a goal to achieve, I had no idea how far I was going to go. So I set myself little landmarks. A Stone weight loss, three stones…five stones…100 pounds…And, just like Forrest, when I got to those points “I figured since I'd gone this far, I might as well….just keep on going”. So I did…In some ways, it was as simple as that. One day, I just got up, decided to go for it, and, before I know it, the miles (or in my case pounds) were far behind me.  Most days I didn’t really focus on where I was going, on where I had come from, I just kept my eyes on the road ahead and ran. As our hero did, “When I got tired, I slept. When I  got hungry, I ate.” But the run continued, and much was gained from it. 

Later in the film, Forrest recounts the wonderful sights and experiences he encountered purely from running through the places that his running shoes took him. I can certainly relate to that, since I started on my journey I have met some amazing people and enjoyed some fantastic experiences that would never have come my way had I not decide to embark on that run and just keep running.
Another way I can relate to Forrest’s running is the attention it attracts as he does it. The media follow him on his journey, and people join him as he runs along. Forrest recounts ... “Somebody later told me.....it gave people hope. Now I don't know anything about that”. 

Now I hope that this doesn’t make me sound big-headed, but I understand this, as I have been told countless times by people seeing my success that it has inspired them to do the same. In fact, I even have my own band of ‘runners’ who follow me and have joined me on my journey..”  - friends who have taken up the plan and members of my Facebook group, which now numbers more than 950. A little like Forrest, I am also asked by people to help them out, and I try.  However, as it transpires in the movie,  those asking for my help discover that they are more than capable of helping themselves out. They just had to run along a little and learn to turn misfortune to opportunity.

Ultimately, just like in the story, I did not set out to make a spectacle of myself, or to inspire people – “I just felt like running”. And run I will. The road is mine, if you care to join me, I’d be grateful for the company.

Unlike in the film, I do hope that, when I decide it is time to stop running (when I reach my target) that I do  not leave behind me a band of disillusioned followers with no direction , asking “Now what are we supposed to do?”. That is not what it’s supposed to be about. I want to be able to pass on the torch on and watch others blaze on ahead, as I head back “home”, safe in the knowledge that I am changed forever by my effort and experience.

In his summary of the experience, Forrest says:  “My Momma always said  you got to put the past behind you before you can move on. And I think that’s what my running was all about”. And that is what I am endeavouring to do – to leave behind the fears, the regrets, the excuses that stopped me dead in my tracks.

Every journey starts with that first foot forward, and, as Forrest proved, you don’t even need a reason to do do it. Just start running. I’m still running, and who knows where the road will take me…Wish Me Luck….

Bounce..and Just Show Up....

As I type away at this post today, I am battling away at the bane of this winter season – the common cold. So, I have no idea how long this blog entry will be, it depends on how far I can get by on Lemsip and sheer bloody-mindedness!!! Colds are utter bastards, they can very rarely kill you, but they bear the hallmark of making you feel like death!!! It’s the perfect storm of aches and pains, the energy drain, the thick head and the constant outpouring of noxious substances from one’s nostrils that lead you to wish for a merciful and swift end to your suffering. 
Since picking up this lurgy, I have struggled with staying on plan. I have managed it, so far, but only by the skin of my phlegm-coated teeth!!! Some illnesses can destroy your appetite, you can’t face food while your body fights to recover. Not in this case, I am craving all manner of sugar-laden, energy-boosting, quick fix comfort foods in the hope that they will alleviate the urge I feel to retire to my bed until Spring…. I also have in the back of my mind the old adage “Starve a Fever, Feed a Cold”. Whether this is true or not, I would be all too willing to give it a try. However, in another recess of my head I know the truth that no amount of takeaway, snacks or pudding will provide me with the vitamins and nutrients required to boost my immune system. So I am relying on the vitamins in my products, and drinking bucket-loads of lemon and ginger tea, with a dash of Apple Cider Vinegar.
I only hope that the cold starts to subside by this weekend. My husband and I have booked a Valentines Romantic Weekend Break in a spa hotel not too far from us. I know from experience that romance is more traditionally expressed by Red Roses than Red Noses. And I don’t look my most alluring self with a streaming, puffy face, bent double with a hacking cough…. If I am sufficiently recovered, one thing I do intend to do is come off plan for the day. I think we deserve it and nobody wants to spend £150 quid to nibble on a lettuce leaf…

This week at weigh-in I achieved a very satisfactory Milestone. I had lost five pounds in the week, which brought my total loss to EXACTLY TEN STONE. Suffice to say, I was absolutely delighted. For some reason, ten stones seems to be a great deal more than nine stones. Maybe it’s the Double Figures, a bit like when your Firstborn celebrates their Tenth Birthday. It is such an amazing feeling and I am determined that last week was the very last time that I am ever going to see the number 14 (or any number bigger) on the scales ever again. 

To be honest, the fact is still sinking in, I wake up every morning and think “Blimey- Ten Stone!”…and then I wonder how I did it. Sometimes this whole journey, so far, seems like a dream. I know that I have to lose that attitude because it definitely and absolutely is reality, whereas with dreams you eventually wake up. I still live in fear of that “wake up moment” when everything comes crashing down, when I screw up and go back to old habits. I clearly don’t trust myself that I can actually do this. I’m waiting for the fall…and that it is not healthy.  Because if you believe something for long enough then it is at great risk of becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy. That is great when the belief is positive…but not so fabulous when the belief is founded by fear….Fear is a funny thing, it can be a fantastic motivator, but it can also hold us back and prevent us from moving forward. I need to learn to harness the Good Fear that will push me forward and ignore the other little voice that tells me not to bother because it will all end in tears….It’s back to the old staple of Courage. Courage seems to be key in all of this……

Since my weight loss has now become undeniable, people often approach me to praise and congratulate my “willpower and determination”. This is a concept I really struggle with. For me, those two qualities are employed when someone really wants something, when they are aspiring to a prize. And that wasn’t me.  I did not want to lose weight. And I certainly did not want to cut out all the delicious, copious foods that I had been habitually consuming with gusto and pleasure for too many years . I wanted to carry on my own merry way, thank you.  So what, if my clothes got tighter, I would just buy bigger clothes.  And if anyone judged me by my size, that was their problem. We should all embrace Fat Acceptance. … But then it hit me full in the face…my health was at risk. And that was something that could not be papered over by fashion or attitude. No matter how nicely I dressed or how tolerant I was of others, all of that would amount to very little when I am dead. And I have so much I wanted to do, so much of my childrens’ lives I wanted to witness. How could I do that if my weight caused my life to be cut short? So Willpower? No. Desperation? Yes!

Many moons ago, when dealing with other issues in my life, I developed a personal mantra- “If you want to bounce, you have to hit the floor”. This, to me, means  that if you want to make radical changes in your life you’ve got to accept that it’s going to hurt. To truly understand where you want to be, you have to hit Rock Bottom. And you have to sustain the impact that going into free-fall before you hit that point will generate. It’s basic physics (about the only bit I understood before I spectacularly failed my O Level..) Without an object of resistance, free fall is perpetual and there is no coming back up from that. But hitting an object, at any speed, will have an effect on the falling object.
The effect on me was pretty painful. I had to let in all the insecurities, all the fears, all the denials that I had expertly hidden away for so long. The thoughts that festered within me and enabled me to continue on the deadly free-fall to ill health. The Irresistible Force of my Denial met with the Unmovable Object of the Truth. And the Denial had no choice but to move in a different direction – upwards…towards  positivity…but back through, and revisiting all the issues that I had failed to address on the downward journey. 
I am glad that I am addressing these at last, no matter how tough it can be sometimes , because I have a feeling that if I don’t there will be another wall waiting at the top , ready to ricochet me right back until I have learned the lessons that I need to.
So Willpower nor Determination are not really the focus here. Nor is Focus. These words refer to having a specific goal, and I don’t really have one. Unless you count having a long and healthy life. And of course, if I achieve that, ironically, I won’t be around to celebrate!!!

So what keeps me going? For me, it is mutual support and leveling with people that can empathise and understand the situation I find myself in. I reach out to people who “get” me. And I also share my successes and struggles. I used to belong to a support group for other issues who stated to all its members to “just show up” . It didn’t matter how much or how little you contributed, the true healing happened when you immersed yourself in being understood. And you discovered the deep, profound realisation that nobody is unique or alone in their problems. We are not alone, but it is terribly easy to convince ourselves that we are, and that our problems are incurable. That self-delusion is all part of the shame that anchors us to our issues. 
The old-uns are the good-uns. A problem shared really is a problem halved. But sometimes we don't even really know what are problems are anymore, we have become so adept at concealing them to both ourselves and others. It is much harder, however, to deny when you recognise your own behaviour in others. And that it is where the magic of "just showing up" really comes in. You may not know what you want to achieve, you certainly will be clueless as to how you are going to go about it. But I guarantee that if you just show up, pretty soon someone will come along who can lead the way...That was where I was, desperate and alone. But I interacted with people who spoke my language. Who had lived in the same, harsh landscape I was facing. And. little by little, their strength rubbed off on me.....
So, if you are at the start of your journey, and frightened of being able to harness that willpower, then let go and “just show up”. Take it a step at a time. Each little step adds up. It did for me. It’s still doing it for me. Wish me luck…
I do hope that this blog entry made sense...the cold is starting to addle my senses...time for another Lemsip I think....