It was a slow, seductive process. I didn't wake up one morning in the middle of my training, in the middle of being in the best shape of my life to date, and think, "You know what? I miss my chub."
I stopped tracking and recording every bite. First it was, well a bite of this doesn't matter. Then, it was a few drinks after work - that I obviously burned off dancing, right? Though that might not have been all that far off, because I do truly love to dance and will go for hours on the floor - but let's stick to the point here. Then it moved on to the truly cancerous issue: the after-work Twilight Zone. Dinners only had a 50/50 shot of making it on the log, and all snacks were myth. What's worse is that once my butt hit the couch, or once I decided I couldn't wait for dinner - the chances I'd work out went from slim to laughable.
That's it right there, a big fat obvious reason for my back slide: I stopped working out. It became too easy to avoid it, and I stopped trying to. I hate to admit it... but part the loss of motivation was "because of a guy"...it's hard to keep going when the reasons (& rewards) for your new goals and appearance are tied up in someone else instead of your own happiness.
Warning - personal bs coming. Skip the next paragraph (or six) to the next bolded section if you don't want the sappy back-story. This sums it up nicely:
Nearly two years ago now, I started to pound pavement on my own because I was - ironically- running away from my home situation. I hated spending time at home because of how unhappy I was, and this was a great, endorphin-giving way to get away for an hour or more - since talking about it (at that point) had not worked. I was miserable and what's worse, trapped. My wonderful new home, my job, my car, most of my friends are/were tied up in that relationship, and nothing I was doing was working. So I ran. Every day, just to get away. And little by little, my legs got stronger, my core got leaner, and I felt better about myself. I started to feel that I might not be trapped. That maybe I was strong enough to survive if this did fall apart. That what had triggered a lot of panic attacks - the fear of being alone, of no one else ever looking twice at me or loving me - might not be the case. That I could look good enough for someone else to actually be interested in me so that they could get to know me for who I was - fairly awesome, naturally ;) , but it's nice when that's wrapped up in a yummy package right? Guys started to pay attention to me and for the first time someone pursued me. I'd never had that before, ever, and was very flattered, and apparently stupidly easy (naive) prey. Well, someone figured that weakness out.
**footnote: I
still never fail to appreciate when someone has the interest and has taken the time and effort to do something special for me. Even after learning my lesson, it's still a big deal for someone to do that for me - even a small gesture, if it's personal and considerate - because it's been exceedingly rare for me to receive the same effort and attention to detail that I give out.**
I started to become obsessed, became too tunnel visioned. Running nearly every morning, and working out every evening. Barely eating enough to qualify as sustainable. That alone should have been the warning bell. Those who know me know how much I love food. Not for the sake of food itself thank god - I have never gone for something simply because it's there. I love creating, experimenting, savoring excellent combinations and quality. Then that dropped away from me, and I was suddenly ok with just eatting frozen food and a few pieces of fruit and calling it a day?? Da Fuq, y'all.
The results felt so good though! I dropped an average of 5lbs a week (!) for nearly two months. Shed inches and thus sizes blazingly fast. Every time I dropped a size I'd reward myself with a new outfit (healthy - yay!) and well... other not so healthy things...
Like this: Every time I pushed myself, I'd imagine how good I'd look in a new outfit for a date, how much I wanted to rid myself of imperfection ( all for him); so better work at making my waist slender, my muscles toned...god it sounds so wrong now. So when he broke my heart - yeah. Motivation dwindled. I tried to stay with it, saying to myself, "be hotter than the bitch he left you for". Even then, my attempts at motivation were still centering around a guy- one who'd broken my heart - and I was still blind to it! Little by little, I felt less motivated to wake up early in the morning to run or put off dinner for that work out.
We won't touch on the obvious depression, but yes that affects motivation and weight gain as well. The good news is that I'm moving past it, finally - able to see how wrongly directed my motivations were. I no longer know exactly what's ahead for me. And I'm finally ok with that. I'm focusing on making myself strong enough, mentally and physically, to be able to be ok with whatever happens or comes. To no longer make (poor) decisions because of fear or a lack of self respect.
The lesson here today class?
Most important? Make your motivation and your goals based on you. Only tied up only in your happiness and plans. And don't lose yourself in the process.
That realization came only a short while ago for me. It had been that way to start, and I'd lost sight of that. I have no plans to stray from myself again. And I feel happier now - when I make it through a hard workout or stick to a schedule or see the numbers drop slowly on the scale - than I did at any time when I was doing it for someone else, even if it was faster progress.
Secondly - the big picture and the overall goals may be what's important, but being consistent with the little things (like recording your food, or keeping a workout routine) is what will get you there.
