Back in December, a friend and I were out to a decadent lunch when we came up with the idea for a weight loss competition. It seemed like a good idea - $25 buy-in per person...weigh-ins every two weeks...bi-weekly prizes....person with the highest percentage of weight lost at the end took the pot. Seems easy enough, right? I set up this great spreadsheet to help me track progress...send individual text messages to discuss goals. I thought I was prepared and was setting up a successful contest. I should have known better.
My first clue that this wasn't going to work out for my group was during the goal setting texts. Out of the women involved, I had the most amount of weight to lose. I looked at my calendar, counted my weeks and decided that a pound per week was healthy and ideal. No one else had that logic. Suddenly, I felt pressured to have twice the goal I had initially set for myself - I wanted to win, right?
Second clue - shortly after the goals were set, the excuses started. "I am at a disadvantage...I don't have a trainer." "I am at a disadvantage because I can't work out." "I have XYZ physical condition so I believe working out is impossible for me." "I weigh less than everyone else in this group, so I have no chance at winning." Lordy.
I'm not a fan of excuses. Ever. I have a pretty good reason for it - but that is a blog topic for a another post.
Week 1 went great. We were all encouraging each other, texts back and forth. It seemed great! Then the first weigh in happened. We all did pretty good...but smoked by the sleeper of the group. The one who said she wasn't able to work out...she somehow lost 10 pounds. Damn. OK. Paid the "fat tax," (another sign that this was going to be an epic failure...the use of the term "fat tax" for paying into the pot every two weeks...) and kept on trucking.
Week 4. Smoked again. What the heck? How is this possible. The Dark Horse was eating less than 700 calories each day!
For me, that piece of knowledge was the end of the competition. All signs were there from the get-go...but this was the straw. I couldn't put money into a pot that was supporting an eating disorder. I couldn't support destructive and extreme behaviors being employed to win a competition. So...I dropped out. I called an end to it. Everyone else was pretty much OK with it - but I still feel bad that I couldn't help the woman who was starving herself. I saw her just after our most recent weigh in - her eyes sunken into her face...her skin had a pale gray undertone. She didn't look good. And I worry.
So that led me to think - is there such a thing as a "good" weight loss competition? Does the term "competition" automatically imply that someone is going to abuse the system? If the goal is slow, steady and maintainable weight loss, does a competition with money on the line open the door for more drastic measures in an effort to win the prize?
I'm a little disappointed that this didn't work out for us. I had this vision in my head of a community. A forum. A group of people who would band together and not focus on the end prize but instead encourage each other to lose a little more each week until we all reached our goal.
We are back to being on our own. I'm ok with that - actually - since my greatest competition is the sense of doubt that lives within.
Saturday, February 28, 2015
Friday, February 27, 2015
Derailed...Again...
I am currently sitting in front of my fireplace, under a blanket in my chair, feeling hopeless and helpless.
A few days ago, my PIC suggested that I blog some of my frustrations. He said that it was important to share the negatives as much as it was the positives. It was important to share the downs as much of the ups. At the time, I didn't want to. I was more in the mood to wallow and feel sorry for myself. There is a time and a place for a pity party, and I was hosting one right here. Rather than let me be, he persisted. He told me that I wasn't alone - but gosh, it certainly feels that way.
For most of my life, I struggled with that number on the scale. I remembered the panic I the first time I crept above 200. The joy at being back in "1-derland." (That beautiful place when the first number of your three digit weight is a "1.") There were times when I literally would do anything to be thin. Eat cabbage for a week? Sure! Two meals a day? I got that? Long-term fasting? Easy-peasy. A pill that kills my appetite? I will take it after breakfast!
I wanted to be skinny. SKINNY. 5'10", 130lbs, size 6, "have you met my ribs" skinny. I joined groups, weight loss centers, read books...both nothing worked? Do you know why? Because SKINNY doesn't work.
There wasn't a single person - not at a WW meeting, not in my dance classes, not at skating or at cheer - not a single person who took the time to explain to me that being skinny wasn't sustainable. No one explained the concept of strength and how important it was to have muscle mass. It took me until my late 20's to learn about it and my mid-30's to really understand it.
Now I have a whole new problem.
When the PIC walked into my life over three years ago, he taught me to not be afraid of the unknown. He pushed me to try everything that I said I couldn't do. It went something like this:
Me: I can't walk on a treadmill.
PIC: Let's warmup on the treadmill today...2.5 miles for 5 minutes
Me: I can't do squats
PIC: Let's start with some TRX squats
Me: I can't lift
PIC: Meet my friend, the flat bench
Somewhere along the line, something clicked. The pieces came together...the fat started to melt away and my body felt and looked stronger. Something else happened though - I became an addict.
I am completely addicted to the way weight lifting makes me feel. I like the rush. Feeling "swole." I like the accomplishment. So what is my problem? I now feel guilty when I don't or can't lift. I feel worse about myself when I am not in the gym...and I beat myself up more now than I ever have before.
This winter has been a tough one. Between myself and the kiddos, we have battled the flu, stomach flu, colds, more stomach bugs...you name it. I'm not complaining. There are far worse things that could happen than a handful of short-term illness - I know that. I am, however, at a loss as to how to overcome the feelings I have now after being sick with something-or-other for the past three months.
I am tired. I feel defeated. I am completely overcome with guilt over not being in the gym. I am feel out of control over my health, my wellness and my weight loss journey. I am not feeling very strong...emotionally, mentally or physically.
When I first started this blog, it was a way of keeping me excited about my workouts and process. (And yes, I know that this is a process.) I had promised myself that this would be a place to be positive and uplifting...that if someone else saw my posts that maybe it would encourage them along their way too. How do I encourage myself?
A few days ago, my PIC suggested that I blog some of my frustrations. He said that it was important to share the negatives as much as it was the positives. It was important to share the downs as much of the ups. At the time, I didn't want to. I was more in the mood to wallow and feel sorry for myself. There is a time and a place for a pity party, and I was hosting one right here. Rather than let me be, he persisted. He told me that I wasn't alone - but gosh, it certainly feels that way.
For most of my life, I struggled with that number on the scale. I remembered the panic I the first time I crept above 200. The joy at being back in "1-derland." (That beautiful place when the first number of your three digit weight is a "1.") There were times when I literally would do anything to be thin. Eat cabbage for a week? Sure! Two meals a day? I got that? Long-term fasting? Easy-peasy. A pill that kills my appetite? I will take it after breakfast!
I wanted to be skinny. SKINNY. 5'10", 130lbs, size 6, "have you met my ribs" skinny. I joined groups, weight loss centers, read books...both nothing worked? Do you know why? Because SKINNY doesn't work.
There wasn't a single person - not at a WW meeting, not in my dance classes, not at skating or at cheer - not a single person who took the time to explain to me that being skinny wasn't sustainable. No one explained the concept of strength and how important it was to have muscle mass. It took me until my late 20's to learn about it and my mid-30's to really understand it.
Now I have a whole new problem.
When the PIC walked into my life over three years ago, he taught me to not be afraid of the unknown. He pushed me to try everything that I said I couldn't do. It went something like this:
Me: I can't walk on a treadmill.
PIC: Let's warmup on the treadmill today...2.5 miles for 5 minutes
Me: I can't do squats
PIC: Let's start with some TRX squats
Me: I can't lift
PIC: Meet my friend, the flat bench
Somewhere along the line, something clicked. The pieces came together...the fat started to melt away and my body felt and looked stronger. Something else happened though - I became an addict.
I am completely addicted to the way weight lifting makes me feel. I like the rush. Feeling "swole." I like the accomplishment. So what is my problem? I now feel guilty when I don't or can't lift. I feel worse about myself when I am not in the gym...and I beat myself up more now than I ever have before.
This winter has been a tough one. Between myself and the kiddos, we have battled the flu, stomach flu, colds, more stomach bugs...you name it. I'm not complaining. There are far worse things that could happen than a handful of short-term illness - I know that. I am, however, at a loss as to how to overcome the feelings I have now after being sick with something-or-other for the past three months.
I am tired. I feel defeated. I am completely overcome with guilt over not being in the gym. I am feel out of control over my health, my wellness and my weight loss journey. I am not feeling very strong...emotionally, mentally or physically.
When I first started this blog, it was a way of keeping me excited about my workouts and process. (And yes, I know that this is a process.) I had promised myself that this would be a place to be positive and uplifting...that if someone else saw my posts that maybe it would encourage them along their way too. How do I encourage myself?
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