It started well. I was thrilled when, on Saturday, I ran/walked 7 miles and then went for a 4-mile walk with friends. 11 miles! I was certainly hurting in the end, but it felt so great. I spent the night stretching and stretching and prepping for another great week.
But that week threw me some curveballs.
First, I was in a lot of pain all week. Not the bad pain -- it was just a deep, deep ache in my legs. The kind that screamed to me "YOU NEED TO TAKE A BREAK!" So I did. Most days I only walked 1 mile. And, really, I strolled those 1-milers. But the aches continued.
I worked some long, hard days on the job, and by Thursday, I was just done. So tired. Plum worn out. When I weighed in Thursday morning, I was furious when I stepped on the scale and saw a weekly loss of less than a pound. Why oh why was it taking so long? Why was it so hard? Why, when I was doing everything right, was the weight not coming off faster?
So I was sad on Thursday. Frustrated. And on Thursday night, I ate more than I should have. Not much more, but more. About 400 calories more than normal (total of 2,000). The next day? A 1-pound weight gain. Because, of course.
(I must note here that I passed up loads of free pizza in the newsroom on Thursday, plus cupcakes, plus giant sugar heart cookies at my apartment building.)
Thursday night brought the news about David Carr's sudden death -- he was an NYT columnist I have admired for years and always wanted to meet -- and then news of the death of a former colleague. I spent nearly the entire day on Friday in bed. I was in a deep, dark hole. Still, at night, I crawled out of bed and made myself do 1 mile on the treadmill downstairs. Saturday was Valentine's Day, and while I try not to care, I felt buried in loneliness. By the grace of God, I found myself outside on Saturday afternoon and was able to walk 6 miles. It took just about everything in me to get it done. Not much running at all.
And then today. I ate. Nothing "bad" but too much of the snacks I usually allow myself in moderation. It was a big fall.
As of today, it's been 110 days of walking/running straight. I haven't broken the streak. But I have definitely fallen. The walks have been torturous. I have little desire to work harder. I'm not excited about the progress I've made. I don't see a change in how I look. I don't want to eat just 1,200-1,400 calories. I fear I will never, ever get where I need to be.
But I will try to refocus tomorrow and hope, hope I can get back on track. These are some crucial days ahead. Will I keep falling or will I bounce back and stride ahead?
261 days until the MCM: Walked 7 + 4 miles
260 days until the MCM: Walked 2 miles
259 days until the MCM: Walked 1 mile
258 days until the MCM: Walked 1 mile
257 days until the MCM: Walked 1 mile
256 days until the MCM: Walked 2 miles
255 days until the MCM: Walked 1 mile
254 days until the MCM: Walked 6 miles
253 days until the MCM: Walked 1 mile