Monthly Archives: February 2011

Refrigerator Motivational Art

I have the before and after pic of Barney the dalmatian on my refrigerator. He lost an amazing 66 pounds! My sister laughs every time she sees the pic and reminds me that the dog didn’t have a choice. His food intake was restricted.

Maybe that’s what I need. To have someone dole out a cup of kibble a day instead of twenty. But then I wouldn’t learn how to deal with my emotional eating. I wouldn’t know how to “behave” in a restaurant, when so many fried foods are staring back at me from the menu.

And still, I admire Barney. I’m sure he had stomach rumblings just like I do midday. It’s hard work losing one pound, but sixty-six? As long as I’m on this weight loss journey, his picture’s staying on my fridge.

And what about you? Do you keep any motivational “art” on your refrigerator, right next to to-do lists and/or your children’s finger paintings? If so, share away in the comments section!


Connecting the Body and Spirit

I’d read time and time on weight loss boards: “A body in motion doesn’t want to stop.” And I know this is truth. The hardest part about exercising is the starting part. The tying of the shoe strings. The pressing of the play button on the iPod. The slinging on of the sunglasses.

But once I begin, once I push the pedal or take the first step, I know I’m creating a better me. Notice I didn’t say a hotter me, or a thinner me, or a wow-wow-chicka-wow-wow me. Nor did I say a healthier one, either. All of those descriptions might be applicable as I keep exercising.

For me, exercise connects the body and the spirit in ways I could never imagine. My confidence soars as the breeze scoots past my handlebars and around my t-shirt. Every time I stand to climb an incline, I feel stronger. Exercising outdoors, away from the walls of a gym or living room, also makes me feel closer to God.

Now, I’m not religious, although I do consider myself spiritual. I believe God exists everywhere. He’s not just some guy in the sky waiting to fling judgment on me (even though my name, ironically, means ‘God is my judge.’). I believe God is in the sweat that spirals down my neck, in the asphalt of the trails I ride, in the algae of the creek I cross, just plain everywhere. And exercising outdoors makes me feel a part of something special, a bigger plan, if you will.

I exercised four times this past weight-loss week, and I feel amazing, both physically and spiritually. Looks like I’ve finally found my motivation. 🙂

If you need any motivation, watch this clip. One of my favorite, favorite, favorite training songs is included. 😉

Weigh-In: Sixth Week

As I ate my usual, a Veggie Delite with baked chips, at Subway last night, I thought, “How is this going to affect my weigh-in tomorrow?” I’d cycled four days this weight loss week, each time burning between 800 and 900 calories. Was I blowing it by eating a “big meal” for dinner? I’d just have to wait and see. For all I’ve said about not letting the scale run my life, I still have that square with digital numbers haunting many things I do.

Well, I have good news to report. After cycling, tracking everything I ate, right down to those Valentine’s Day hearts, and staying within my calorie budget, I lost two pounds! Woohoo! So excited! And, you know what? It’s about time. LOL

Hope to “hear” other good news from my blogging buddies for their weigh-in days, too. Here’s to a good weight loss week.

Weigh-In: Fifth Week

I bet the turtle that said slow and steady wins the race never had to go on a weight loss journey. Because, if he had, he’d have known how frustrating slow weight loss can be.

Yup, you guessed it: I lost another half pound. When I did Weight Watchers a few years back, it was considered healthy to lose anywhere between 1/2-2 pounds a week. I haven’t kept up-to-date with the guidelines, but I imagine this is still true. And I know the research: slow weight loss leads to long term weight loss. So, why am I still beating myself up? Because I know that if I just exercise, the weight will come off in bigger chunks.

So, yes, I will wake up twice this coming week at five to hop on my Spinner Fit and ride, Baby, ride. I will hit the pavement twice this week in preparation for the half marathon in November. I will persevere, and I will be thankful that the number on the scale is descending. Better half a pound lost than three pounds gained, right?

No Time for the Motivation?

Green Day sings: “I’ve got no motivation/Where is my motivation/No time for the motivation/”. And that’s exactly how I feel.

Good thing I read a fellow blogger’s challenge to wake up early twice this week and a work-out in before the day becomes too crazy and stressful to exercise. Maybe that’s what I need.

See, I always start out with good intentions. The high of cycling over the weekends carries the motivation over into Monday (I even jogged this Monday in preparation for a half I want to do in November), but when Tuesday comes around, I’m out of motivation. Maybe it falls off by the side of International Boulevard, or it stays in bed, which is why I’m always telling myself, “I’ll exercise tomorrow,” when my head hits the pillow.

But no more. Tomorrow is weigh-in day: the start of my weight loss week, if you will. There’s no problem exercising on Saturdays, Sundays, and Mondays. Tuesday will be the true test. Can I rise with the alarm and not push snooze half a dozen times? Can I find the time for the motivation?

Tomorrow Is Not Promised

My post today really has nothing to do with weight loss. I guess I just need to talk to someone–anyone–before I go on an eating binge triggered by stress and sadness. I need someone to listen to me as we walk along the path to weight loss.

Yesterday, I found out my first father-in-law, and my daughter’s favorite grandparent, passed away. I broke down in tears, and I worried about how to break the news to my six-year-old. I did when anyone finding herself in an unknown situation would do: I called home. My mom advised me to tell Leda that her “abuelito” was in Heaven with Holly and Misty, two dogs that have gone on, too.

Jude and I drove straight to my ex’s house. I hugged the father of my child and whispered in his ear, “How do we tell our daughter her grandpa’s dead?” Leda walked up behind us. I didn’t want to be completely broken in front of her, so I composed myself before giving her a morning hug.

We sat her on the sofa and broke the news to her. She cried, then asked to be left alone. A few minutes later, she came out of her room and asked to visit my parents.

I know she doesn’t want to face reality right now. I know that, in time, she’ll catch herself in moments where she wants to visit her abuelito and talk to him and walk with him, but she can’t. And my heart breaks for her.

Thanks for listening. These past two days, I’ve found myself eating and not feeling full. Yesterday afternoon, my husband suggested we go cycling to help take my mind off the upcoming funeral, and it helped curb the emotional cravings. We did the same today. See, it’s okay to feel sad, but it’s not okay to deal with it via food. My body still wants an outlet, and if I can release with exercise, I’m already learning to cope in a healthy manner.

I also wanted to take this moment to tell all my readers that you are my saviors. On January 1st, I made a resolution to lose weight, and, because of you, I’m still on track. I can’t control “acts of God,” but I can reign in my weight to bring down risk percentages so I can watch my daughter grow up into a beautiful young lady. Y’all have found something in me worth saving, and I’ll forever be grateful.

Excuses Are Like Butts

Today was weigh-in day, and I hoped upon hope for a good result. I exercised almost everyday (still working on getting to six days a week). I was almost good, food-wise. Key word: almost.

Yesterday, I practically derailed all the good work I’d put in for the week. To put it simply, I was hungry. Before lunch, I’d already eaten a bag of Cheetos and drank a Coke, and I’d had three servings of cookies minutes after I’d got out of bed. All I could think about yesterday was food, food, food. And did I remember that I had weigh-in the next day? Of course, I thought about it every time I shoveled something into my mouth. I tallied calories and am happy to report that I stayed within my budget. I’m not happy to report that I could have made better choices.

Which brings me to today. I got lucky. I lost half a pound, and I’ll take it. Half a pound down is better than half a pound up. Do I want to beat myself up? Of course, but what will that accomplish? I’m on this weight loss journey to learn better eating habits, and yesterday was a lesson in how not to eat.

So, if someone can extend a hand, I’ll grab it, lift myself off the wayside, and continue walking alongside you in the hopes that one day, I’ll run again.