Is ninety-nine failing?

The real truth is that the perfectionist that lives within me is really cruel sometimes. There are times when her relentless pursuit of achievement helps me push beyond my limits. But most of the time her demands are so intense and the burden of her expectations so heavy that I am crushed by them. For all the evidence of hard work that people can see, it’s the inner battles that are much harder fought. In fact, those battles rage endlessly and many times I fight the same ones over and over again – overcoming the demons once doesn’t put them to rest for good.

For instance, as I sit here nearly paralyzed by the anxious question of “what if I don’t make it to 100 pounds by September 26”, I can hear her in my head telling me that 99 pounds would be a failure. Really? Is that really what I’m going with? Ninety nine pounds… failing? I would never let anyone say something so demeaning and cruel to anyone that I love. Yet I realize just how often those horrible internal tapes play and I don’t even HEAR them.

I wasn’t going to write about this because I didn’t really want anyone to know just how hard I still fight. The perfectionist in me wants it to look easy and effortless. But I got to thinking about how many other people, especially women (I understand them a little bit better, a very little bit), have those same kind of tapes playing in the background. How often do we look in the mirror and say something hateful to the reflection? I can’t even count the number of times I have started a conversation about my body with, “I wish I wasn’t…”
So this week I’m trying something new. I made a commitment to not say anything negative about myself for the entire week. Why not an entire lifetime, you ask? I need the success. A week I think I can do. Maybe I can string a lifetime together one week at a time.

I started this weight loss journey because I woke up one morning and I was done: done being tired, done being sad, done being lonely, done being afraid. I was just done. And I knew that I would stay the same, my life would stay the same, unless I made a change. Perhaps it's elementary, but if I wanted to be different, I had to be different. The same old worn-out, tried-and-true behaviors and thought patterns weren’t go to get me a different result. And now I’m done hating myself. Really. It’s been a lifetime. It doesn’t work for me. It doesn’t serve me. I’m moving on.

It will be challenge for a while to stay true to that – my patterns are deeply ingrained and frankly, horribly reinforced by a culture that’s constantly telling me that I’m not beautiful unless… - but I want my daughter to wake up in the morning and the first conversation she has with that growing girl in the mirror – someday too soon a growing woman- to a be a loving one. And she’s taking her lead from me.

If you have to doubt something, doubt your limits.

At about 75 pounds lost, I started thinking that maybe… just maybe… I could actually make it to my 100+ pound weight loss goal. I mean, let’s face it, starting out looking down a long road with more than 100 pounds to lose, it seemed like the road would never end, like the goal wasn’t really attainable. But when I hit 75 pounds I thought, “Huh. Maybe…” At 75 pounds, I was more than half way to my goal. I could look back and see the road I had traveled was longer than the road ahead.

Once I let myself start thinking that I might actually make it to my goal, I started to think about how to mark the occasion, how to celebrate the moment and at the same time celebrate the potential for everyone to achieve the things they once thought unachievable. At the same time, I wanted the moment to include all the people that I love and the many, many people who have supported, encouraged, loved and motivated me without comprise. I COULDN’T have done it alone. Really, I couldn’t. There have been long, horrible, painful plateaus when nothing seemed like it was changing even though I was doing all the “right” things. If it weren’t for the vigilant and steadfast faith of friends and family, I might have quit. I’m a fighter. I don’t give in. I fall and get up. Fall and get up. Fall and get up. But… we all get tired. And our spirits get worn out in the fight and the struggle to be our best selves. More than once the love and steady hand of a beloved has kept me going. How could I possibly celebrate any achievement without including them?

I also wanted my milestone to be tangibly meaningful to someone else - even if it was only one someone else. I wanted to make the hard fought road to have meaning beyond me. But what could I give? All I have is my story and my love of spinning. Spinning has made my legs wobbly more than once, but no matter how tired I am, I leave the studio feeling powerful. I stay on that bike for 45 (ok, let’s be honest, some of those spins are more like 60) minutes. Sometimes it’s a fight – can’t count how many times I’ve battled the demon “I can’t”. Sometimes it’s pure bliss and absolute euphoria. But either way (and lots of in-between), I stayed. I did it. And I’m always better for it.

I love the community at the spin studios. Fiercely. And I want everyone to know just how amazing they are; all the time, everyday, living their lives as best they can. And so, the birth of the 100-minute spin idea. It seems like a great way to share my milestone. We all get to sweat and push our bodies; stretching our limits… the 100-minute spin can express something that has been as much a spiritual and emotional journey as it has been physical. Every pound that I have lost has unearthed personal demons that I buried in the weight. Those battles are sometimes even tougher, but unavoidable and absolutely necessary for growth. In losing 100 pounds, I’m gaining. Gaining a new sense of confidence and capacity. Gaining a new outlook on possibility and purpose. Recapturing a sense of joy and wonder at the magnificent human body – in all shapes and forms.