Chicken Soup for the Dieter's Soul (15 page)

Time stood still as I crested the hill. I bought a bag of Hershey’s Kisses and had it open before I left the parking lot. I was picking up speed. The little voice said, “You can walk extra tomorrow. Have another one.” I ate one more, then another, and before I knew it, half the bag was gone. My little voice repeated the familiar phrase, “You already blew it. You might as well eat the rest so you won’t be tempted when you go back on your diet tomorrow.” Besides, how was I going to explain half a bag of candy?

The exhilaration didn’t last long. By that evening,my little voice was taunting me, “You’re a loser!” I vowed to be good, but I knew I was just one piece of chocolate away from losing control again. It seemed I’d bought a lifetime ticket.

What was wrong with me? How could I practice medicine and raise a family, but fail at dieting? I knew most of my patients weren’t having much long-term success either. Maybe it wasn’t me.

My husband and children never dieted and never struggled with their weight. In fact, they ate whatever they wanted, but they rarely ate more than they needed.

Did they just have better metabolisms than I did? That was probably part of it. I knew mine was a mess after years of overeating and dieting. Did they have more willpower? No. I doubted they could stay on a diet for very long either. But there was something fundamentally different about the way they thought about food. In fact, they didn’t really think about food at all—unless they were hungry.

Could the answer really be that obvious? Could I use hunger again to guide my eating, instinctively? My only other choice was to strap myself in for another ride. My little voice screamed, “I want off!”

So I jumped. No more rules, no more deprivation, no more sneak eating.

It wasn’t easy at first. Years of ignoring hunger and fullness while I ate to meet my emotional needs or follow the latest diet rules made it hard to trust my body and my instincts. But I slowly discovered that when I took the time to tell the difference between body hunger and head hunger, I was able to better meet both my physical and emotional needs.

I gave my little voice a new mantra: “Eat when you’re hungry, stop when you’re satisfied.” Even now, it reminds me, “When you eat food your body didn’t ask for, it will store it,” and, “There will always be enough food, so there’s no reason to eat it all now.”

Instead of drastic ups and downs, I try to balance eating for health with eating for enjoyment. I use balance, variety and moderation to guide my eating instead of harsh, complicated rules. Now I can enjoy cooking, dining out and eating with friends. I feel my best when I’m nourishing my body and my soul.

I also love to hike and do yoga several times a week, not to control my weight but for the stamina, strength, flexibility and calm they give me. I’ve found peace, health and wholeness. I’ve also discovered a purpose for my life and a passion for helping others get off their roller coaster, too.

I knew my long ride was finally over when my husband gave me a sack of double-dipped malted milk balls and it took me a week to eat them. Even though I still love chocolate, it’s not my best friend anymore.

Michelle May, M.D.

One Newspaper at a Time

I
mprisoned in every fat man a thin one is wildly
signaling to be let out.

Cyril Connolly

One of the unfortunate side effects of being very overweight is constant back pain. Sitting, standing, lying down, carrying, lifting . . . no matter what the activity, my back is always in some state of pain.

Recently, I decided to do something about this. Not only did I want to relieve the back pain that carrying around an extra 150 pounds creates, I also wanted to head off all the other medical problems I knew were in my future. My biggest concern was exercise. How could I possibly move this bulk of mine around when I was already in pain? Stretching, jogging, lifting weights and all the other activities that I knew would help get the weight off just seemed impossible to do with my back always feeling like it was twisted in a knot.

So I started out slowly. I got a paper route, which to be honest was not a weight-loss strategy at first. However, after I signed up, I found out that I had to porch all of the papers. This meant that I had to get out of my car (YIKES!) and physically walk the paper up the driveway and place it on the porch. This may not sound tough to many people, but to a 300-pound woman the thought of getting in and out of a car and walking up and down forty-seven driveways didn’t sound fun. And I just knew this would aggravate my back to the point that I wouldn’t be able to move at all.

Day one came and I got in and out of my car and I huffed and puffed up forty-seven driveways at two in the morning—and I sweat like I hadn’t in years. I hauled myself home, got in bed and went back to sleep. When I woke up several hours later, I sat up and realized that not only was my back not throbbing in pain, as I had thought it would, but it actually felt a little bit looser.

Each week I noticed my back pain getting progressively less. Well, I figured that if just walking a little every day could help, maybe adding in a little extra exercise would help even more. I took it easy, a little at a time, doing simple exercises and other activities like playing with my children instead of popping in yet another movie for them to watch. And here came another side effect. I started to lose a little weight. As the weight came off, the back pain lessened.

I had always thought that I couldn’t exercise because I was too large. The pain in my body, along with the sheer bulk of me, was simply too much to put through any kind of a workout routine. If I did manage to exercise, I just knew I would be in agonizing pain the next day. But just the opposite happened. This amazing human body began to function better the more I exercised. Logic had always told me that if I lost weight, my back wouldn’t hurt so much. After all, 300 pounds is a lot of weight for one back to carry. But the task of losing that weight just seemed too much to conquer.

So now I’m taking baby steps. I have created a mental picture of me, newspaper carrier that I am, with 150 newspapers, eachweighing a pound, strapped tomy back. Every time I lose a pound, it’s like I’mthrowing away one of those newspapers. Each time I toss a paper, my health is that much better, my back pain is that much less and I’m one step closer to the healthier, happier person I want to be.

I try not to look at the whole picture—losing 150 pounds. I don’twant to knowhowmuch I need to lose or howmuch further I want to go. If I focus on the fact that I have only delivered ten papers out of a 150-paper route, I’m going to want to just crawl in bed and never see the light of day again. So I don’t focus on that. I take it slow. I allow myself to be proud of every moment I can sit without leaning over to crackmy aching back, proud of every ounce I’ve lost and every ounce of mobility I’ve gained. And I just take each day as it comes, one newspaper at a time.

Michelle McLean

Joint Effort

H
ave you strength enough to take this first step? Courage enough to accomplish this small act?

Phillipe Vernier

In the shelter of an ATM kiosk, eight soggy strangers and I waited for the rain to stop. We were in Nashville with thousands of others for the Country Music Marathon, now on rain delay. We were grouped by speed, and I was in the back with the walkers. Lightning flashed. When the danger passed, we’d be the last to know. The rest of the Joints in Motion team waited somewhere up the street. In training, we’d faced lousy weather together, but now we were apart and facing a full marathon of 26.2 miles. I hadn’t planned on starting it with my windbreaker clinging to me and sore feet squishing inside my shoes.

Before I started Joints in Motion training, I had lost twenty-five pounds. It wasn’t the first time. This time, though, success was critical. My doctor had me on medications for high blood pressure and cholesterol. Reducing sodium and walking for thirty minutes at work hadn’t helped. Weight loss did. My doctor took me off both medications. I wanted to keep it that way. How? I decided that fitness was the key.

Joints in Motion was perfect for my needs. I wanted to finish a marathon, a huge goal and one that would burn a lot of calories. The program provides weekly training with a coach and workshops on proper nutrition, shoes, clothing and exercise. We even had access to a sports doctor if injured. Best of all, I had a team to keep me motivated. In exchange for meeting a fund-raising goal for the Arthritis Foundation, we’d get free registration and transportation to the marathon, hotel, a prerace pasta dinner, breakfast before and a team party after the event.

How better to get in shape, make friends, travel to fun places and help others at the same time? Our Nashville team ranged from college students to forty-somethings like me. Most paired up with runners who trained at similar speeds. However, I was the sole walker. I walked a fifteen-minute mile, twice the speed I’d walked with my coworkers.

Each week, the mileage grew. Cold rain fell during one run, soaking me through my poncho to the skin. Then came winter, and one memorable run at the only park where the trails weren’t covered in ice. At ten below zero, the wind sliced through us. Everyone else finished. They thawed out inside the warm cars, drinking coffee. Coach Dave came out to check on me. “I don’t think I can do anymore,” I said. He went the last two miles with me, a bagel in one hand and cocoa in the other.

The miles increased into early spring, until the trial run for the marathon: the twenty-one miler. We followed a course along the Mississippi River through little towns. By now, the muscles in my legs and hips were well defined. I found the balance of proteins and carbohydrates that would give me enough energy for distance walking. I looked better in my clothes, thanks to having more muscle and less fat. I had the proper equipment and training to achieve the marathon. Would it be enough?

At the pasta dinner before the race, spirits were high. We sang funny songs to honor our coaches and the volunteers. The next day, however, brought unpleasant surprises. First, the rain. Then, a forty-five-minute wait for shuttles to the race start. We’d barely make it on time. But the starting time came and went. The crowd waited for the weather alert to pass, with contenders for the Athens Olympics in front, and us walkers in back. Half an hour later, we ventured onto the road. The throng of people surged forward. The marathon had begun. I jogged to the five-mile mark and then I faded back to my comfortable pace. I didn’t want to burn out early.

I saw my friends occasionally. At eighteen miles, a woman had her knee wrapped at a first aid station. After that, I was on my own. The crowd thinned. Pain and fatigue set in. The long, wet wait that morning and jogging had worn me down. I plodded on, unable to keep up my pace. As mile twenty-one neared, I struggled.

The rainy morning turned into a steamy afternoon— over eighty degrees, warm for April in Tennessee. Some people succumbed to exhaustion and were transported to the finish for medical care. At mile twenty-three, sweat dried into a salty crust on my body. I drank some warm sports drink. My stomach was queasy. I nibbled a few pretzels as I hobbled along. A car slowed down alongside me. The volunteer thought I was in trouble. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah.”

“You want a ride?”

I shook my head, unwilling to use my energy to speak. I wouldn’t quit now. My mind was foggy; my legs jerked like a wooden puppet’s, but I kept on. Some remaining walkers quickened their pace in the last mile, but I just willed myself to keep moving. Over the slapping of feet on pavement, I heard an announcer. I staggered toward the sound. I finished in six hours, fifty-one minutes.

I have finished two half-marathons and numerous shorter walks since then. Most are for charity. Some I do with the friends I made on the Nashville team. I’ve mentored another Joints in Motion team, training with them and helping raise funds. Now I’m the one giving out Powerade and encouragement at the twenty-one milers. I may even do another full marathon.

To keep my cholesterol and blood pressure at healthy levels, I need to keep excess weight off. Healthy eating and walking have helped me do that. The body is like the old car we bought that had spent the past five years sitting in a driveway. The belts, brake shoes, water pump and more had to be replaced, simply because the car had been idle. Likewise, the body breaks down if fluids are pooling instead of pumping, levers are stiff from disuse and whole systems are allowed to rust. If I am always training for another event, I am keeping in my active habits. At the same time, I am making friends and helping people who I will never meet. It’s a win/win for everyone.

Debra Weaver

Dieter’s Block

S
uccess is going from failure to failure without
loss of enthusiasm.

Winston Churchill

I want to achieve a healthy weight, really I do. But in recent years, I have been losing the battle of the bulge. Like millions of other Americans, I have watched the numbers creep up. It’s not just my weight, but the size of my clothes. And don’t even get me started on things like cholesterol and blood pressure. Aren’t things that go up supposed to come down? Fortunately, I have discovered the cause of my weight gain: I have dieter’s block.

Dieter’s block can be triggered by a variety of things, circumstances that the ordinary mortal, such as me, simply cannot control. Perhaps the day is too cold or too warm. Or maybe the weather is perfect and practically begs the eating of a double-fudge sundae. It could be the need for caffeine that drives me to order a large café mocha, extra-sweet, extra-hot. Every day. Twice.