The Typical Progression Repeats
Well, here we are, just two weeks after establishment of my plan, and we sit squarely where we always do a couple weeks after any one of my renewed attempts: firmly back at square one, where life has demanded I stay. It honestly feels typical of the discouraging ongoing routine... for years, I repeatedly steel myself to actually press at losing weight, only to have something come up to sidetrack me... a couple days of going out to eat, some depressing event in life, etc. So this time, I steel myself with a renewed vigor unlike any previous time... I post the blog... I actually start walking the walk... I even get out to the gym for a session. This time, I feel strength that makes me certain that no amount of life moments, whether good or bad, can shake me from my goal... and I promptly become more ill than I have been in a long time, with it hanging on for almost two weeks now, keeping me from feeling up to the gym, keeping me eating out of convenience (not feeling well enough to do much cooking), keeping me generally inactive and feeling miserable. I just got my voice back today after almost a week of incommunicado (and a few days of literally near-muteness), and I'm still struggling with the remnants which are behaving very much like a really rotten sinus cold. It's just typical - no matter how worked up I get over trying to make a real push, life sends a proportionately appropriate curve ball to pull me right off the plate.
I began (sort of) trying to get back into things tonight. I ordered pizza (convenience again a factor, and really felt like celebrating the end of the last day of school before a break), but I watched the total consumption to keep sane. I pressed myself to get some active stuff done before plopping down for awhile this evening, and I've been back up for an hour or so now too. It's a pretty pathetic start, nothing even slightly reminiscent of the head of steam I had two weeks ago before catching the stinkin' avian flu or whatever I've had, but I guess any start is still nonetheless a start.
While I'm typing, one other element I want to share. Just before I became ill, I did make it out to the gym with my wife for an evening exercise. I popped onto the treadmill, intending to do about 45 minutes of a brisk walk, something enough to serve as exercise but not strenuous enough to make me unhappy or strained. Well, I did my usual, starting off at a very simple and steady pace, then kicking it up to a brisker walk after a couple three minute timer cycles, then pulling back to my first speed for a breather and then speeding back up. In the past (far past, it's been years), I've been able to relatively enjoy such sessions by viewing them as time to myself and concentrating on listening to a book on tape or music (I admit here that I cannot "enjoy" exercise like I hear so many other people refer to... see below). However, this time was absolutely miserable. I felt very self conscious quickly by the other people (and it was a full place when we started, every machine in use) eyeballing my slow gait compared to their mountain man marathon speeds, but I tried to just concentrate on listening to a book on tape... but I couldn't even do that. I quickly found myself drenched from just a moment at the higher speed, and I could not pay attention at all to my book on tape because my discomfort and pushing myself to keep walking and not stop was a constant, insistent focus of all my attention. Just twenty minutes of walking had me clearly seeing that I couldn't even manage to keep up a regular pace of walking for that forty five minute goal, and when my wife came over after a little more than half an hour ready to leave, I was only too grateful for the excuse to cut my session shorter than intended and get off the machine. This is a goal of mine too, related to the above although not explicitly stated yet: I want to be able to go and exercise without dreading it, to have the actual act of mild physical exertion not require my attention to maintain, so that I can let my mind leave the activity and preserve my happiness.
I mentioned above that I admit I cannot "enjoy" exercising as so many people claim. I actually find it to be one of the most unpleasant and uncomfortable things to do, for many reasons. Let's take all the standard "chubby person" reasons out of play right now - I'm talking about reasons that keep it a negative activity for me even when I was basically healthy and before I had gained all that much weight. First, I hate to sweat, and I sweat a ton when in any physical activity; there are few sensations I hate more in the world than sweatiness. Second, purely physical, non-cognitive activities are entirely unpleasant to me and intensely boring - I cannot be "interested" in them at all. Third, and I can't find any better way to word this, I find the sensation of stressing myself physically to be uncomfortable. These three things together just plain stink (literally and figuratively) for someone who has found, based on the amount found naturally within the rest of the lifestyle, that he needs exercise to turn things around. I really and honestly wish I could enjoy exercise, so that I could actually want to do it. I've really thought about it... there just isn't anything I enjoy doing that involves the kind of exercise I need on a very regular basis. I do wish there was a good solution that I could pop into my routine, believe me.
And lastly, as if to mercilessly mock me, the scale says...
351 lbs.
I began (sort of) trying to get back into things tonight. I ordered pizza (convenience again a factor, and really felt like celebrating the end of the last day of school before a break), but I watched the total consumption to keep sane. I pressed myself to get some active stuff done before plopping down for awhile this evening, and I've been back up for an hour or so now too. It's a pretty pathetic start, nothing even slightly reminiscent of the head of steam I had two weeks ago before catching the stinkin' avian flu or whatever I've had, but I guess any start is still nonetheless a start.
While I'm typing, one other element I want to share. Just before I became ill, I did make it out to the gym with my wife for an evening exercise. I popped onto the treadmill, intending to do about 45 minutes of a brisk walk, something enough to serve as exercise but not strenuous enough to make me unhappy or strained. Well, I did my usual, starting off at a very simple and steady pace, then kicking it up to a brisker walk after a couple three minute timer cycles, then pulling back to my first speed for a breather and then speeding back up. In the past (far past, it's been years), I've been able to relatively enjoy such sessions by viewing them as time to myself and concentrating on listening to a book on tape or music (I admit here that I cannot "enjoy" exercise like I hear so many other people refer to... see below). However, this time was absolutely miserable. I felt very self conscious quickly by the other people (and it was a full place when we started, every machine in use) eyeballing my slow gait compared to their mountain man marathon speeds, but I tried to just concentrate on listening to a book on tape... but I couldn't even do that. I quickly found myself drenched from just a moment at the higher speed, and I could not pay attention at all to my book on tape because my discomfort and pushing myself to keep walking and not stop was a constant, insistent focus of all my attention. Just twenty minutes of walking had me clearly seeing that I couldn't even manage to keep up a regular pace of walking for that forty five minute goal, and when my wife came over after a little more than half an hour ready to leave, I was only too grateful for the excuse to cut my session shorter than intended and get off the machine. This is a goal of mine too, related to the above although not explicitly stated yet: I want to be able to go and exercise without dreading it, to have the actual act of mild physical exertion not require my attention to maintain, so that I can let my mind leave the activity and preserve my happiness.
I mentioned above that I admit I cannot "enjoy" exercising as so many people claim. I actually find it to be one of the most unpleasant and uncomfortable things to do, for many reasons. Let's take all the standard "chubby person" reasons out of play right now - I'm talking about reasons that keep it a negative activity for me even when I was basically healthy and before I had gained all that much weight. First, I hate to sweat, and I sweat a ton when in any physical activity; there are few sensations I hate more in the world than sweatiness. Second, purely physical, non-cognitive activities are entirely unpleasant to me and intensely boring - I cannot be "interested" in them at all. Third, and I can't find any better way to word this, I find the sensation of stressing myself physically to be uncomfortable. These three things together just plain stink (literally and figuratively) for someone who has found, based on the amount found naturally within the rest of the lifestyle, that he needs exercise to turn things around. I really and honestly wish I could enjoy exercise, so that I could actually want to do it. I've really thought about it... there just isn't anything I enjoy doing that involves the kind of exercise I need on a very regular basis. I do wish there was a good solution that I could pop into my routine, believe me.
And lastly, as if to mercilessly mock me, the scale says...
351 lbs.
posted by Greg J. Hipius at 6:47 PM
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