Wednesday, April 8, 2015

So many Lose 10 lb. Journeys

I was looking for something else and became distracted upon finding a journal I spent some time writing in during college.  I had been married 7 months. I was 22 years old.  And I was training for a half-marathon in April in Oklahoma City. I scrolled down through my food log for that particular day...

Jan 5, 2005
1 glass OJ
1 c. oatmeal
1 frosted cookie
1/2 c. peaches
1 1/2 c. whole wheat spaghetti
1 c. tomato sauce
1 cheesy breadstick
3 Nutter Butter's
4 slices cheese
4 whole wheat crackers
1/2 can Dr. Pepper
1 c. Stroganoff
1/2 slice Cinnamon Dessert

Arm/Back Day
Cardio Rest Day

My first thoughts were:
1. Man I had a lot of time back then...if only I had known.

2. How did I remember what all I ate?  I can't even tell you what I snacked on an hour ago.  (I guess I should note #1)

3. Starches. Starches. Starches.  This was before Paleo was all the craze.  And I realized I had some allergies to wheat.

4. Dr Pepper? Haha. That was definitely a habit I started from my new hubby!  That was never an option growing up at home.  Diet pop was the "healthier choice" and growing up in an aerobics instructor's house...you always went the healthy route. *note sarcasm

I read on down and found this excerpt..."This is the first day I will begin my journey toward losing 10 lbs. and training for a Half Marathon April 29th.  (I can't tell you how many 10 lb. journeys I have been on since then!!)  Then I nearly died when I saw this:
Current weight: 134 lbs.
Waist: 26"
Hips: 36 1/2"

WHAAAA??  134 lbs.?!! I didn't think I had weighed that since 8th grade.  Seriously.  And I was on a journey to lose 10 more...whoa.
I sat back and began to think back through my athletic life.  And I could almost name what my scale weight was around any significant physical endeavor I was pursuing.

Senior year...college softball recruiting camps....127#  (I was told several times I was too thin)
Wedding...June 2004....128#
Half-Marathon-April 29, 2005 (dropped 5 lbs.--129#)
9 months pregnant with Leah... May 2006....153#
1st Marathon--Leah was 2 years old...130#
Triathlons...Summer 2009...135#
Started doing CrossFit 2009ish...135#

And from then on....I could not tell you what I weighed.  Maybe when I had Autum I was about 165#....

I realized several things at that point.  One, how sad it is to realize that the scale dictated me.  And my life.  How could I remember so specifically my weights from so long ago?  Well, because it was clearly very important to me.   It was a center focus.

And now I am faced with the question of:  was it what drove me?  Did I just mask my obsession with being "fit" and "skinny" with a determination to compete in sports and races?  Deep down...did I really care how I competed or placed...so long as I hit my goal weight and used training as a motivator to get there...?  (not saying that is wrong...yet)

I sat quietly awhile. Contemplating this.
Lifting weights and doing CrossFit and training with other people was a huge turning point in my obsession with the scale.  And I didn't even realize it til now.  I could probably tell you more closely what my  strength maxes were on certain lifts more than what I weighed the past 4 years.

But to dig down, what was the power the scale number had over me?  Why did it mean so much?  What bigger issue did I have at hand?  Lack of self-esteem?  Body disorder?  Need to please?  Pride in my appearance?  Or just lack of anything else to focus on and control?  Passion for fitness?  Need to uphold an image?

Probably all of the above.
That IS. ANNOYING. to me.  Now.

Huh.  Moving on.

All I know is I'm so grateful for the opportunity to change.  For a chance to face this 'skinny' stigma head on with my girl's.  To have experienced it and hopefully be able to empathize better.  To have shaken off that "chain." For strength.  For feeling strong.  For health. 


And to honestly not have that much time on my hands to obsess about a scale number.  Ha!  Because now I obsess over things like how to get that carrot chunk out of my child's nose.  Or how to get your oldest to wear deodorant-because who cares if your armpits stink.

And on...and on.



 




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