Upper Yosemite Falls Trail Hike

Me and Kristi at the bottom of Yosemite Falls. We climbed the whole way up!

So, as I said last post, I did it. I climbed up to the very top of Yosemite Falls and it was really no small feat: 7.6 miles round trip with an elevation gain of 2500 ft (that’s twice the height of the Empire State Building for those keeping track at home). And let me tell you...I don’t think I’ve had a more physically demanding experience in my life, or a physical demand with such a huge emotional high at the end. Let me chronicle the journey for you.

I got up at 3 AM Friday so I could shower and catch my 6 AM flight. I flew to Reno, where I rented a car. Google maps told me I had a 4.5 hour trip to Yosemite ahead of me. What it didn’t know about this trip is that it would actually be 10 hours due to navigational errors and seasonal road closures I wasn’t aware of, and that I’d get the first speeding ticket since I was 18 (I guess we'll be glad for the 13 year streak…). Sigh. I finally made it to Yosemite Friday at 10 PM, and was frustrated, disgruntled and tired. That all went away, though, when I saw my friend Kristi who I hadn’t seen since our November trip to Disney. It is always so very very great to see her, and was even greater when I learned some exciting personal updates about her life! She and I stayed up until 1 AM chatting and catching up – and yes, for those of you keeping track of the time difference, that is a full 24 hours of being awake for me. That’s really not the way I roll (I get 7 hrs of sleep/night like clockwork). It was a small price to pay to see Kristi and to have arrived in such a beautiful place (even though I could not tell it was beautiful under cover of darkness!).

The next morning I woke up at 7:30 AM. The good thing about being so tired was that I acclimated to Pacific time from central with no problem! Kristi and I got a slow start – eating a big breakfast, making sure to pack a healthy lunch and a lot of snacks for our hike, checking out the visitor’s center, seeing Yosemite Falls from the ground – before we finally started up the trail around 12:30. The hike was supposed to take 6-8 hours, so we all figured we’d be fine and back on the ground by sunset around 8 PM. And I would be remiss if I did not mention that the weather was perfect -- very slightly overcast with a high of around 60-65. PERFECT weather to be outside.

An overview of the trail. 135+ switchbacks. 7.6 miles roundtrip. ~2600 ft elevation gain.

When the hike started, I had serious serious stomach issues. I was not feeling well AT ALL and was not even sure the hike was a good idea because I felt so badly. I knew deep down that I would regret it if I did not at least TRY the hike so I decided to go despite stabbing stomach pains. About ¼ - ½ mile into the hike let’s just say the spirit moved in a major way (TMI) and I was feeling a whole lot better. I was glad that I had decided to press on and was now sure that I would make it up the mountain. A little bit later we stopped for lunch. I had the first PBJ I’d had in probably 3-4 years and wow it was great! I also had some fruit and a string cheese, and then we soldiered on up the mountain. The first 1-2 miles were not that bad. Some switchbacks, yes, but the rocks weren't slippery or unstable feeling, and I was grateful for whoever had constructed such a cool trail to the top. We made it to an overlook and I was feeling pretty good. I definitely wasn’t fast, but I thought “I’ve so got this.”

Us at the first big outlook. It is after the first set of switchbacks. A lot of people quit the trail here, but not us!! Great view of Half Dome in the background.

We then hit an odd part of the trail that took us downhill for like ¼ mile. For anyone trying to reach the top of anything (mountain, waterfall, whatever), you know that extended stretches of downhill are not good when your goal is to go uphill. Finally, though, we started to go uphill again. This is where things got bad.

The last part of Upper Yosemite Falls trail is steep, long, and has lots of slippery, unstable rocks. My psoas was spasming with nearly every step I took. It hurt so so badly.

…and this stretch of the trail was where I learned I was not in as good a shape as I thought I was and that my friend Kristi may truly be the most patient person on the planet. I googled it and found that there are more than 135 switchbacks to the top of the falls. I started off able to do 2-3 switchbacks before needing a break. It got to the point where I would need to rest once or twice EACH switchback. Kristi never got annoyed or impatient, and was incredibly encouraging. It was incredible. Although I seriously (and I mean it literally and not for dramatic effect) considered turning back twice, I didn't. And it was due in no small part to Kristi's encouragement. She is such a great friend and was so kind to be so helpful and patient.

This might give you an idea how steep and rocky the trail was. But probably not -- I think you have to see it to believe it.

Finally we made it to the top. And would you believe I did not get a single picture? I am virtually certain we had some taken, but I think the camera was switched to the wrong setting because I'll be darned if I didn't get to the bottom and learn that we had no pictures. So so sad.

But I will never forget it at the top. To actually get to the overlook you had to go over these extremely scary stairs (with no guard rail) cut out of the side of a rock face. Despite my exhaustion and fear of heights, I DID IT and Kristi and I enjoyed a beautiful dinner at the top around 5:30. We enjoyed it and I almost cried because I was so proud of myself. It was a full circle moment to have made it to the top of the falls; the fact that I used to not be able to climb a single flight of stairs without getting winded certainly wasn't lost on me.

Scary scary stairs to get to the overlook -- yes, you had to go downhill after climbing and climbing uphill. Crazy. But serious gratitude and props to those who made this trail and these stairs!!!

The way back down? I thought it would be a lot easier than it was. And I definitely thought it would be a lot faster than the way up. I will say this: it killed my knees and we didn't make it to the bottom until 9:30. Fortunately I had bought a headlamp and I had it with me because, even with the headlamp, it was one of the scariest things I'd done in my life. However, we made it unscathed and I was so so proud.

View from the top of the Falls. Yes, I stole this picture from someone online (as I did with the pictures of the trail and the stairs).

And more than being proud I was sore. My psoas was killing me (the uphills). My hamstrings killed me (the uphills). My quads killed me (the downhills). My knees killed me (the downhills). My back was killing me (the stress and exhaustion and the fact that I just have back problems). It. was. rough.

I thought I would be ravenous but honestly I just wanted to go to stretch and go to bed. I did have some pizza, but only two or three pieces -- my body just was not up for more, despite the fact that I'd done 9 hours of hiking. I thought I'd go to bed and sleep for 12 hours; however, I just slept for 7. I guess that's all my body wanted/needed. Strange.

I will say that this is the toughest thing I think I've ever done physically. I felt pushed to and past my limits. Though I wanted to die at times, I made it. And it was sooo worth it. I won't forget it. It makes me want to get in shape and be able to breeze up the falls next time -- and I will be SURE to get a picture before I leave :)

There is no finish line

This is something that is striking me more and more. I have written about it before, but dealing with the underlying issues I have with food and its undeserved elevated status it has had in my life is really underscoring, italicizing, bolding, and highlighting that -- as far as I am concerned -- there is no finish line in this weight loss journey.

Part of me doesn't like the idea that this finish line is imaginary only. In some areas of my life, I am very goal oriented. In most areas of my life I am competitive like none other. On this journey, however, how will I know when I am "there"? Is making it to goal weight getting there? As I've written before, I don't think so. And even if it is, I don't think I even know what my goal weight should be, as I believe the recommended 164 is too low. (Another person told me today that I should stop losing weight, a full 70 lbs above my WW recommended weight -- I won't listen, obviously, but this external pressure will probably intensify as I continue to lose weight)

Food and weight will always be issues in my life. I believe these issues can eventually become part of my habit and my routine, but I think a part of me will always feel like a fat girl and I know I will always love cheese. Learning to live in moderation has been a process, and one that I still work on.

As frustrated as I am and have been with this lack of ability to exercise because of this back issue, I am pleased to report that the scale continues to move downward. This morning I was at 233.2, just under 4 lbs from my lowest adult weight ever. I have not counted or tracked anything in weeks, and I have worked to rely more and more on my internal signals -- hunger, pain when I am overdoing it, tiredness, fullness, what I want to eat -- and darned if it is not working. I feel satisfied, healthy, and strong (exception: back/hip pain). My skin is really great right now too -- so much more vibrant than when I ate the stuff I used to eat. It is truly amazing.

Now that's not to say I am not still struggling sometimes. Sometimes I cry the whole trip through Walmart because I want junkfood so badly (although this is rare). Sometimes I buy and eat an entire large pizza at once (that is always a bad idea) - but I rarely get hungry for a long time after that. Sometimes I just want to eat donuts that are around the office. Sometimes I say yes to the decisions that aren't ideal, and sometimes I don't. And I think that as long as it is a calculated decision -- not a fleeting moment of weakness or an "oh eff it" thing -- that is ok from time to time. Learning to trust myself and my judgement in such areas is a process, and one that I am starting to gain confidence in. I feel like *this* I can do for the rest of my life, whereas counting and being obsessive is hard for me and something that would get me to a "finish line", but probably wouldn't help me stay across the finish line. For me, I don't believe that is sustainable.

Although I have written about things that I love about the Biggest Loser and other reality/public weight loss fora, the emphasis on an arbitrary finish line drives me insane. Getting to a goal weight is only part of the picture -- staying there is going to be hard, but I feel up to the challenge. Time pressure is ok to a point, but I'm of the school of thought that I would rather this take 2-3 years and work out the issues along the way than propel myself to my goal in 1 year and deal with the emotional and environmental issues at a more shallow level or, worse, not at all.

I have really been getting more and more comfortable with this idea. Although I am so frustrated about this injury, I can recognize that parts of it are really helpful for my journey. I need to know I can face and conquer adversity in life. Although this is nowhere near as bad of an emotional blow as it would have been if my dad died or as it was to watch my grandma get sicker and die, I feel like this is a training wheels situation for the adversities that will inevitably come in life. I can weather the storms; excessive amounts of unhealthy food will numb the pain but it will leave the underlying issues unresolved and leave destruction in its wake. No bueno. It does not serve my long term goals, and will make me feel badly about myself. And my head and my heart and actions are getting closer to agreement on this, and it is great. I am hopeful that someday it will be as natural for me to realize food is not comfort as it is for me as it is to eat breakfast. I'm not there yet, but I'm inching closer.

I see weight loss bloggers who started their journeys much later than I did who have blown my numbers out of the water. Part of me is jealous of them. Part of me wants to be much further down the WL road than I am.

But I think a bigger part of me is proud of what I have done. WL and food issues are such an individual, highly personal thing. I believe there should be limited or no no competition. There are times when I peace out from WW. There are times when I know there is a huge issue that I need to deal with. For example, shedding my mental fat girl image and dealing with the emotional trappings of food are the current focuses of my journey. I continue to lose weight, yes, but that is really just a result of dealing with the other issues and isn't so much the focus right now. This approach is working for me. I've lost 65+ lbs in 14 months, and that is not bad. I am closer to the unknown number where I will be at a healthy weight, but I recognize this work I am doing will help me stay the course more successfully than waiting until I get to the "finish line" and then dealing with these issues.

For me personally, I cannot exchange my passion for and obsession with food for a passion for and obsession with losing weight. Because, when the weight loss is done, then what? What will I have to obsess over? This is why eating healthy food and making healthy decisions just needs to be part of what I do, like taking care of my hair and riding my bike to school when I am healthy.

Thanks for letting me process out loud. I appreciate all this blog is for me -- an encouragement, a record of where I've been, a place for accountability, and a sounding board. Knowing that people read this is just so neat for me. I can't even explain why, but I appreciate your readership.

Mess mess messity mess

Today I am a mess. My back/hip issues have been so so bad lately. Yesterday I had a trip for work that I could basically under no circumstances miss. The meeting I had to attend took place about 3-3.5 hrs away from home, and I was beyond apprehensive about the drive. Fortunately a colleague was willing to do the driving, allowing me to lay down in the back seat the majority of the time. The same colleague helped me to adjust my leg length, temporarily relieving some of the pain and allowing me to sit up for the 3 hr meeting and the lunch that followed. By the time we got back though, I was spent. I laid down flat on my back when I got home around 5 PM, and that felt great. So great, actually, that I fell asleep until 11 PM. I woke up, watched a little TV, took some more ibuprofen, and then tried to go to sleep again around 1. I woke up this morning at 6. For those keeping score, that's 13 hours of sleep in 24 hours (I had to be up at 3:40 to go on the trip).

Today was supposed to be the only day I am in the office, as I leave for another fracking trip tomorrow. I really wanted to go in and take care of a lot of stuff (I was only in the office one day last week as well because of travel), but unfortunately there was absolutely no way that could happen. The pain was simply excruciating and intolerable.

I called the doctor first thing this morning and was very fortunate to get her last appointment for the day, which was around noon. I needed to get a referral for physical therapy (which was helpful but really dragged out last time these SI joint issues presented themselves), and was hoping to get something that would help get me through my trip this week.

When the doctor came in, I immediately started crying. This really surprised me, but is a testament to both how badly this injury hurts, and how absolutely insanely frustrated I am. She gave me a cortisone shot, and controlled-substance-level prescriptions for both muscle relaxers (Flexerol) and pain relief (Lortab). She also told me, "If I could tell you the absolute worst thing to do, it would be to travel and to be forced to sit for long periods." As luck has it, of course, this is the day before I fly to Louisville for a three day 8:30-5 workshop that I was totally stoked to attend.

This morning, my stomach was really letting me know it was super hungry, probably because I went to bed (aka fell asleep on the floor) at 5 without eating dinner, and had only a banana when I woke up from 11-1. Although the physical signs of hunger were there, I didn't want to eat. I could not believe it. This behavior was totally uncharacteristic of me. I just didn't want to have to find a way to sit comfortably, and I could not think of a way to eat lying flat on my back. I ended up eating a bowl of oatmeal with a banana, blueberries, and milk -- but I didn't want to eat it.

For lunch, I was again hungry and I was a little more excited about eating, but not all that much. I ate two tacos.

When I went to pick up my prescriptions this afternoon, I started crying immediately upon entering the Walmart. I was just so so frustrated, and I wanted to binge. I wasn't hungry, but I wanted red velvet cake. I wanted ice cream. I wanted chips and dip. I wanted chocolate. I wanted basically everything.

I thought about that morning in the doctor's office. The technician guessed I weighed somewhere between 160-180 (down from last time when she guessed 180-200). These last 10-15 lbs I have lost have really made a difference in my appearance. Several people have told me they think I look great now, and a few have even suggested that I stop losing weight. I thought about this and weighed it against the prospect of a huge binge. I thought about the two donuts I ate the day before, and how they tasted great but made me feel tired, sluggish, and not myself. I thought about the new clothes I have bought, and how I am maybe 10-15 lbs away from being out of the plus sized section and able to shop in "regular" stores. I also thought about how I just feel better about myself now.

I decided I like my current life better than my old one -- even with this temporary injury -- and reminded myself that binges really lead to nothing good. I cried the entire way through Walmart (and felt like an idiot, but fortunately ran into no one I knew) -- partially out of pain and partially because my brain was screaming for junk food. I steeled myself, and I made it out of there only with my prescriptions, some cottage cheese, and some mandarin orange slices. These are admittedly a treat, but a calculated one.

I am sick of feeling bad, but I am proud of myself for remembering that food will not fix this problem. If anything, carrying more weight will mess up my SI joint even worse. I hope I feel better soon, but I am glad that the mental aspect of figuring out how to live a healthier lifestyle is something that -- at least for now -- I am still able to control.

Working Vacation

I just got back from a 6 day conference/vacation. Tough life.

It was great. Absolutely great. I learned so much about myself on this time away from my "real" life, and the time I had to reflect was much needed and appreciated. I loved it.

On the plane ride down, I read a few chapters of the Breaking Free from Emotional Eating book I mentioned earlier. If I had to summarize the parts of the book I've read so far, I'd say the theme is listen to your body. Straightforward. Hard, but straightforward.

Listening to your body means eating when you're hungry. Listening to your body means stopping when you're satisfied. Listening to your body means eating what you want, not what you think you should have. Listening to your body means resting when you're tired and not exercising when you're hurt.

For someone who either ignored or muted my body's signals for so long, this is kind of a tough one for me. In fact, I wasn't really even sure if I could tell what my body wanted anymore or if I was now deaf as far as listening to my body was concerned. This week proved to me that this is not at all true. When I am truly listening to my body, it will tell me what it wants.

Since embarking on living a healthier life, I've begun to listen more closely to when my body is hungry. I have learned that sometimes weird things mean that I am actually hungry -- for example, many of my cravings are actually hunger in disguise.

One of the things I was surprised to learn on this trip is that I'm actually starting to learn when I'm satisfied, too. On this trip there were several times when there was tons of food left on my plate and I was just not wanting to finish the rest. Times when there were some of my favorite things, and I knew I couldn't take them home for later (no fridge), and I STILL said I was finished. Unbelievable. Seriously. If you would have told me this just six months ago -- about 45 lbs into this journey -- I would literally not have believed this would be possible. But it is. And I experienced that this week.

Another thing that I learned on this trip is that my body can seriously respond to what it's eating and tell me if it's happy or not. For example, after a few days I thought "OMG I have absolutely got to lay off this sodium." I also thought "Man, no more cheese or excessive fat for awhile" and "I've got to eat more vegetables." When I listened and did what my body told me, it was ok again in about 24 hours (and cheese eating could resume!).

I'm not going to lie. I ate really well, and had some really rich foods on this vacation. I had several cocktails which were delicious, I ate cheese dip a few times, and I had two or three really big breakfasts, complete with eggs, sausage and hashbrowns (I ate all of these). I had dessert several times when I went to dinner. And with the exception of some granola bars and almonds I brought from home, and bananas I bought at a Mexican Walmart, I ate every single meal out.

Net result? I lost a few pounds. I ate what I wanted, when I wanted (including several fatty and splurgey foods), and I was fine. I mean to be fair, I ate more salads and fruit once I became less afraid of being food poisoned. I did work out several times with friends. I watched my portions. I drank 14+ L of water in the 6 days I was in Mexico. But living an active lifestyle, and eating what I wanted felt natural and right. And the results were great. And I felt like this is something I could do my whole life.

There was a scale in my hotel room (seems a bit cruel to have one of those, right?), and I did my daily weigh ins. I was surprised/excited to see the number progressing down down down all week. The last day I was there, the scale read 232 (turns out it was a fluke, as I was a bit dehydrated, and the scale is 1-2 lbs lighter than my scale at home). I was eating my final breakfast -- complete with an egg and 2 links of sausage and a huge pile of hashbrowns and pico de galo -- and looking into the Carribean Sea. I thought about how (I mistakenly thought) I was 2.5 lbs heavier than my lightest weight as an adult, ever. I realized that a goal I had set to lose 31 lbs before my 31st birthday coincided almost exactly with this weight. I reflected on how I had worn sleeveless shirts most days of the conference -- something that had previously terrified me and that I had never really felt comfortable with, and that I wasn't even sure I would be able to do a few months from now on my birthday. I thought about how I have now lost the most weight I have ever lost, surpassing my previous record of sixty pounds by a good 5-8 lbs.

I thought, probably really for the first time really on this journey, "I can do this. I am doing this. And I am strong and will continue to do this." And there at my table, alone overlooking the sea, I cried. My life is changing, and I am too. And, damn it feels amazing.

Back in the Game

My blog, as you can tell, has been hijacked (by me) for reasons other than weight loss. I am considering starting a blog about whatever -- my general musings in life -- but I am not sure. I'm still mulling it over. If I start one, I will let you know and stop interrupting this blog with other stuff.

Today's post is back to the normal topic: my struggles with (and victories against!) the war on fat, slovenliness, and being unhealthy. Let me start with a story.

Since my senior year of high school, I have liked swimming. In college, the gym was up a ginormous hill (seriously -- this hill was so steep and long they called it cardiac hill because several people died of heart attacks on this hill). Although I love to go swimming, the trip up this hill to the pool from my dorm prevented me from going as much as I would like.

Despite the distance, my freshman year (1997-1998), I managed to get a gift at the pool: I got some sort of fungal infection on my foot. That spread to my toenails and, for 10 years, I struggled with fungus toenails. If you have never seen them, don't go out of your way to do so. They are gross and yellow, and are so thick that I eventually had to use tools like pliers and as well as my engineering degree and creativity and knowhow (no exaggeration) to cut them. Finally, this year I was able to stay the entire course of treatment and now I am happy to report that the nails are growing out normally. THANK. GOODNESS!

I always told myself that if I was able to get rid of that fungus (I had tried a few times before), that I would go get a pedicure as soon as I was able. I am pleased to report today is the day I will go for a pedicure. I will probably cry tears of joy as I get it. The person dealing with my toes will think I am crazy, but that is ok too.

I was thinking about that this morning in the shower. Why did I let this incapacitate me for so long? Why didn't I take care of this early and stay the course earlier? I have always felt really awkward about my feet. I got nervous in the pool, and was always careful about using flip flops so I would not spread my fungus around. I went 11 years without wearing open toed shoes because I was self conscious about my feet. I hated to go to friends' houses where they take off their shoes if I was wearing closed toed sandals. This stupid thing made me self conscious and altered my life for almost 11 years. It doesn't anymore, and tonight I will have the pedicure to prove it.

As I was thinking about this this morning, I realized that this is just a microcosm of what my life used to be. I used to be afraid of and/or feel awkward about most everything I did because of my weight. Would I fit in the chairs? Would I spill something down the front of my shirt and look like a slob? (this used to happen ALL. THE. TIME. because it just wasn't far from my mouth to my "shelf" as I called it, and I was shoveling so much garbage into my mouth) Would people want to walk up stairs or something else that would make me puff like someone with emphysema? My weight and my unhealthiness seriously messed up my life and made me feel awkward and self conscious at every move. It is a terrible feeling not to feel comfortable in your own skin -- yet I have been this way most of my life.

I am pleased to let you know that this is no longer the case. Do I feel self confident 24-7? Um, no. Far from it actually. However, I know that at my core I am worth something and doing my best to do the right thing and be a good person. I don't question my fundamental worth anymore, which is something I used to second guess all the time. Most importantly, I don't feel awkward in my own skin anymore. I feel OK about myself.

Here is a quick story to illustrate how far I have come. This week, I was invited to a scholarship dinner at a sorority by some of my students. I was very honored to learn that not that many professors were there, and that the ones who were had been hand-selected by the sorority sisters because they had made a difference in their lives. It was hugely rewarding to be invited (but that is not the point of the story). You should also know that I have been incredibly curious about sororities for the past 8 years or so. Ever since I started teaching in grad school, I got interested in the sociological aspects of groups and everything...and, I loved that show Sorority Life that used to be on MTV. The lives I've seen depicted in stories like Legally Blonde (one of my favories) have left me intensely curious about living in a sorority (although, I don't think it could have ever been for me). Needless to say, I was pumped just to be able to go inside a sorority house and look around when I got this invitation.

In the past -- despite all of these reasons why I wanted to go to this dinner -- I am virtually certain I would have said no and politely declined the invitation. Why? I would have been scared of feeling uncomfortable in my own skin. I would have been scared to feel judged. When I picture a sorority girl, I picture someone who whines about being fat and the cellulite on her size 6 thighs. I see someone tan, petite, and cutely dressed. At almost 300 lbs and a size 26, this clearly was out of the realm of someone I could relate to (you try to find a cute size 26 dress that is flattering!). I would have felt certain that they were laughing at me on the inside. However, I now feel so much more confident in my body and, more fundamentally, myself that I went. I had a nice time and was glad to see what the inside of the sorority was like. My suspicions were confirmed: there is absolutely no way I could live with 85 girls (the year I tried to live with 10 almost killed me!). I didn't really think about my weight once (but I did wonder how those girls stay skinny with the food they were feeding!).

Although this is just one story, there have been many more like this this year. I am happy to report that my unhealthiness and weight is holding me back from less and less. I am doing more and more things, and am less fearful of them. There are still things I can't do that I'd like to that I can't yet. For example, I'd be hard-pressed to go shopping with a group of skinny people and be able to find anything at a normal store. I can't ride a mule to the bottom of the Grand Canyon yet (you must be 220 fully clothed and geared). I still can't skydive. But there are so many things I can do now, and I am doing. My weight is holding me back from less and less, and it feels great. This girl is back in the game. Bring it!

What is success? - part 1

Defining success on a weight loss journey is tough. So what is it?

I've been thinking about this, but decided to look up the official definition to see if that shed any light on what exactly success is.

success (n): the achievement of something desired, planned, or attempted

Do you think that accurately captures what success is, or what it means to be successful? The truth is, I'm not sure. I think it is all in the way you state the goal. If my goal is stated as wanting to lose weight, I am not sure if this definition is complete enough. This is because, according to the definition, the moment I reach my goal weight I would have succeeded since I achieved what it is that I desired (and yes it took a lot of planning to do, and yes, there were several unsuccessful attempts but finally one that worked). However, if I lose the weight only to gain it back, I think that -- according to the definition above -- I have been successful since the goal was at one point reached. However, personally, I would not consider that a success.

I think that for the definition above to fit my personal situation, I would need to modify the statement of my goal. My goal is to reach a healthy weight, be very physically fit, and to maintain both my fitness and my weight at healthy levels.

However, I struggle with this. Can the modified statement above actually be achieved? That is, this statement implies that my goal has no endpoint, or point at which you can actually stamp a "done" on it, and file it away in your list of life accomplishments. I do not know exactly which post he mentioned it on, but Tony -- one of my favorite weight loss bloggers -- talked about the journey that is being healthy and shredded different weight loss analogies and metaphors (if anyone knows the post I am talking about, please let me know and I will put up a link to it).

I think we could all agree that losing weight is not a sprint. Despite the ads you see telling you that you can lose 50 lbs in a month, the reality is that most of us cannot. Even among those who can, they probably are unlikely to sustain that type of loss for the rest of their lives. Furthermore, I highly doubt that most of the approaches that are even capable of producing such dramatic and quick weight loss are healthy. Many of those rapid weight-loss supplements are dangerous, and some can even be fatal (xenadrine comes to mind, for example). Therefore, I do not see any way that long-term, healthy weight loss could be considered a sprint.

Many people consider weight-loss a marathon. But is it? I don't think so. A marathon is long and grueling, just like weight loss is for those of us who start out morbidly obese. However, a marathon has a finish line. Once you hobble across that 26.2 mile mark, you've done it. You've joined the ranks of the elite. Although there are many places to celebrate along the weight loss journey, there is no ultimate finish line. I doubt if I will ever be cured of my addiction to food. I hope to be sober and to no longer have it define me just like alcoholics can break free of their addictions. However, I doubt if I will ever have a truly normal relationship with food. I hope I am selling myself short and that it is possible, but at this step of the game I don't really foresee that. I see no finish line to this weigh loss journey. Even if I reach the numerical goal I set for myself (not entirely sure, but I'm envisioning something around the 160-180 mark), I really don't think I will consider that a success. I think it will be a significant milestone on my path to success, for sure, but for me I think staying at this goal will be real success -- and this has no finish line. Therefore, I absolutely do not think that weight loss is like a marathon. No finish line, at least for me.

So what *is* losing weight like? I think it is like paddling upstream. There are times when it is easy, and progress is fast. There are times where you feel lazy or tired or life is just too much, and you lose some ground for awhile paddling against the current -- but ultimately, there is no ending. It requires constant effort and vigilance on your part. It gets easier with time, and you learn tricks along the way that make it less of a burden. But you definitely can't stop working on it and expect to stay where you are forever without effort.

With this metaphor of losing weight being like paddling upstream in mind, how would you define success in such an endeavor? To be honest, I am not sure...but I am going to continue to think about it, and will probably post a followup or followups at some point soon.

Groceries

I went to Sam's Club to really stock up on groceries over the break. I have been wanting to eat out less, both for health and financial reasons. I feel I can control my food better if I prepare it myself (e.g., I can use lowfat cheese, I can spices rather than fat to make food flavorful, etc). In addition, eating out can add up. Cheap food is rarely healthy at restaurants and healthy food is rarely cheap. Solution: eat at home more and start packing lunches. We'll see how the packing lunches thing goes.

Here's the loot I scored at Sam's. Yum. I think a key to being able to eat healthy is to have stuff ready. You can see the before and after pics below -- after as in after preparing them, not after eating them. (Minus, of course, the butter, ham and sausage which I put in the fridge for later) I tried to cut up everything so it would be ready to go in a jiffy for when I was hungry. I have been enjoying these groceries all week. Very tasty.