Am I enough?

On one of the message boards I frequent recently someone asked how you keep yourself motivated to log calories and exercise.  Several people commented that it was important to find something you “love” to do and look forward to doing.  Most people mentioned running and how they love their time spent running.  Yeah.  That’s not me.  I don’t like exercise.  I like being active (or more active than I used to be), but plain old exercise…?  Not interested.  My philosophy on running remains the same:  “The only time to run is if someone or something is chasing you.”

I’ve come pretty far in the last sixteen months.  Sixteen months ago, I would have stayed home if I didn’t have an exercise buddy.  Sixteen months ago, I worried what people would think if they saw me exercising.  Sixteen months ago, I was scared.  

Now?  Now, I don’t care if I have an exercise buddy.  Sure, I’d still like some company, but if you aren’t going to take the time to put me and more importantly, yourself, first then I am going to do what I need to do.  By myself.  At first it was scary…but now, it’s less scary.  

Twin and I had a conversation several weeks ago when she purchased a bicycle.  Like me, she worried about people seeing her riding her bicycle and judging her.  Ultimately, she decided to embrace that fear.  “That’s right, lookey-loos, I’m a fat chick riding a bicycle!”  That’s kind of been my reaction to the C25k program.  I’m tired of worrying what other people think.  I’m tired of being afraid.   From now on, I’m going to do what is right for me whether people judge me or not.  I have been afraid long enough.  It’s time to put myself first.

I’ve been trying to be diligent about my workout routine.  I do fairly well during the week.  For whatever reason, Tuesday and Thursday seem to be my exercise days.  Fridays and Saturdays are practically out of the question.  No, no!  I’m not making excuses.

Friday, we have soccer practice.  I’d love to walk the walking path before or after practice, but so often SS has work to do before practice.  He has forbidden me from going on the walking path alone.  To be fair, I’m not fighting this edict.  The walking path is not a safe place for a woman to walk alone…honestly, I’d be uncomfortable walking the path with just my exercise pal from school.  It’s a case of “better safe than sorry.”  Saturday, we have rec until 12.  We generally get out of there by 1 or 1:30.  At that point, I usually haven’t eaten anything since 8 when we arrived and I am in need of food.  I should bring lunch with me to the field but SS and I are creatures of routine.  We go out for lunch on Saturday and breakfast Sunday morning.  

I try to get up early on Sunday morning and go run.  Some weeks are more successful than others.  Though, a coworker complimented me on my exercising the other day.  Evidently she’d seen me out running while they were driving to church.  It’s nice to be complimented…though now I worry just how red-faced and sweaty I was.

The commitment I’ve made, at least mentally, pleases me.  Mentally, I know if I exercise I lose weight.  When I stop or slack off on the exercising, I don’t lose weight.  That in and of itself keeps me motivated to exercise.

If you read my last post, you know that I worry if I’m pushing myself enough.  Here’s the thing, I’m a perfectionist.  I want to be the best.  I NEED to be the best.  It’s a personality flaw, I know.  I’m forever comparing myself to someone else.  Case in point, in middle school one of my friends and I were REALLY into the Babysitter’s Club series.  We read the books constantly.  I distinctly remember having a competition (in my mind only) on how fast we could read a book.  If she read a book in a day, I needed to read a book in a day.  Did she participate in this competition?  Uh, no.  But for me, it consumed me.  

This surgery has been no different.  If someone had surgery around the same time, I should be losing at the same rate as them.  If someone had surgery after me and had a similar amount of weight to lose then I should be keeping up with them.  When I don’t meet my expectations, I get depressed.  

I’ve lost 178 pounds.  178.  I look nothing like my former self.  Often, I don’t recognize myself in pictures or even the mirror.  However, I still have over 60 pounds that I still want to lose.  That won’t put me at a “normal” weight, I’ll still be plus-size, but it’s a number both  my surgeon and I feel is reasonable given my body type.  Instead of celebrating the 178 pounds that I’ve lost, I obsess over those remaining 60 pounds. 

I obsess over things (shut it, SS).  At the end of the day, I find myself rehashing the day and trying to figure out where I could have done better.  Am I eating too much?  Am I not eating enough?  Have I stretched my pouch?  Do I need revision surgery?  Did I push myself enough this week in my workouts?  Am I screwing up this surgery?  Am I using my “tool” the right way or am I ruining the wonderful gift I’ve been given?  Logically, I know that everyone is different.  We lose at different rates, we can/can’t eat different things, and we excel differently.  

I just want to be better than I am. 

 

Will there ever come a time when I realize that I am enough?