Nothing starts your week off like a shot in the ass. I’m not talking a shot of espresso either. I literally got a (steroid) shot in the ass today. The pain was worth it (I hope). Needless to say, I woke up this morning feeling terrible because of my old nemesis, pollen. Too bad I didn’t ditch him in the move. Nope. Pollen is terrible in Nashville too. So I am already cranky. I went into work for a little bit before my doctor’s appointment. Cranky. Walked the four or five blocks to the doctor’s office. Cranky. And then I stepped on the scale in the doctor’s office. Insert all your favorite expletives here. Needless to say, it was an eye opener. I’ve gained weight, and I’m not happy about it. I knew this day was coming. My eating has been out of control. My activity level has dwindled. I want to get back to being active five or six days out of the week. I want to start lifting heavy again. I want to start caring about what foods I put in my body again. I chalked it up to hormones, but I’ve gotten lax. I’ve been happy and less vigilant about my health. Going out to eat here and there, grabbing drinks with so and so. It adds up. Then both my work and love life spiked up the stress levels at the same time. My workweek last week was pretty stressful. I’m going through some emotional heart-break stuff. So I guess I got a little rundown. I’m cranky and angry today. I’m ready to turn over a new leaf. I need to leave past things in the past. I can’t focus on how much time I’ve spent abusing my body in 2016. I can’t think about where I’d be now, if I really buckled down in February like I said I was going to. I have to focus on today and the next. I’m hoping that once the steroid shot kicks in that I’ll feel well enough to get in a workout tonight. Right now, all I want to do is sleep and eat everything in sight (oh joy, increased appetite is a side effect of the steroid shot). I’ve decided that I am going to really focus on controlling where I’ve been the most out of control – eating sweets. I know that sugar is in almost everything and that a lot of foods have added sugar. So I am going to get back on the clean, whole foods train and try to eat less of processed foods. Specifically, I am going to pay extra attention to the total grams of sugar I’ve been eating. My goal is to eat no more than 25g of added sugar and focus on eating more natural sugars (like fruit). I know that this is going to be tough, but I need a good shot to the ass to get myself going again. So sugar-loaded foods, I’ve got you in my crosshairs.
I know that I should be happy that I’m healing and am out of the boot. Last night, I ran for the first time since being diagnosed with the stress fracture. I made it one mile. I’m proud of that. However, my foot was pretty sore. I know the doctor said there would be soreness for another month, but it’s still frustrating. I’m taking things slow and modified plenty of my movements in Zumba tonight. It’s just so much less fun when I’m doing things halfway. I want to jump and kick and do all the moves as if my foot was back to normal. I’m trying not to pout, I promise. I’m just ready to run and dance 100% free. Part of it is fear that I’m going to re-injure myself. I really hope that fear goes away with time. Two months ago, I never would have thought I’d be talking about my feet so much! Thanks for hanging in there with me! I’m hanging in there, but there is still that haunting shadow of the boot.
Hopefully not free-falling. Okay, okay. I’m conditionally free. I have been released to only wear the boot when I’m feeling pain or discomfort. For the next two weeks, I have to wear tennis shoes (or some other stable shoe with laces — unfortunately not heels yet) and still modify my exercise. I am so relieved to learn that my foot is healing and that in two weeks I can begin to try to run again. I have to admit that I’m a little gun-shy, and I’m worried that I’ll push myself too hard now that I’m sans boot. I just have to keep reminding myself that I want to get better and stay far, far away from that retched contraption (aka the boot). Tonight, I went to body works class and lifted weights. I modified lunges still and gave my foot breaks if it started to feel sore. I was careful (for all you people out there who are worried I’ve been doing too much on my foot)! Also, I ran everything by my doctor, and I can still work out – just no high-impact stuff for at least two more weeks. He said that it will be another month before my foot starts to feel normal again. I’m okay with that. The important thing is that I am making progress and healing nicely. For now, I’ll just rock my hot pink Nikes with my business attire at work. Tonight I did go up on my foot in plank position on reflex. I quickly modified and ended up completing one single-leg push up! I’m pretty proud of that. It will just take some additional mental adjustments as I continue to workout while healing. It felt so weird to have a regular shoe on my left foot tonight. I definitely don’t miss the velcro sounds my boot made when I’d walk. I’m not burning that sucker, but I hope to put it back in the far reaches of my closet very soon.
Well, it does. And Sunday was one of those days. Sunday I ran smack into my ex-boyfriend, Mars (yeah remember Mars: This Mars) almost literally. It turns out that we were at the same event on Sunday. I rounded a corner and boom there he was. It felt like someone punched me in the stomach. And then we kept running into each other because the huge space we were in was actually a tiny, confined box. Needless to say, I wasn’t ready to see him. Maybe I’ll never be ready to see him. So being around Mars all day was not a fun time. I was an emotional mess on the inside while trying to remain calm, aloof, and charming on the outside. It was pretty exhausting, but I survived it. Then I get home. It had been raining on and off all day. I get out of my car and start walking toward the porch. Then I hit the muddy yard (and I do mean hit). I fall ass-first into the muddy yard — cartoon style. I’m talking feet flying out from under me and into the air and landing hard on my ass — cartoon style. I’ll be honest. I laid there for a few moments and cried in the pouring rain. It was the perfectly shitty ending to a very shitty day.
Now. Now we get to the good part.
I am a NOTORIOUS emotional eater. I would stuff down so much food to suffocate what I was feeling at the moment. HOWEVER, Sunday night after the shitty day and the shitty ending to my day, I did not emotionally eat one time! So I am still counting that day as a victory. I am learning that there will always be something that will make me want to emotionally eat. Life is not perfect and is filled with speed bumps and hurdles. I have to learn to cope without using food as a fix, because it’s not. It’s not a fix.
Another setback: my foot. I went back to the doctor today for a check up on my foot. I’m still in the boot. It will be at least another two weeks before we can decide whether I’ll be out of the boot then. My foot is healing, but it’s not healed yet. Also, it turns out that I have two stress-fractures instead of one. No wonder my foot has been hurting so much! But again, I will focus on the positives. My foot is healing, and I still have the okay to continue to work out on it. So I will forge ahead and continue with my goals – only in a modified way. Now excuse me while I crank up Kelly Clarkson’s “Stronger” and sing along.
When I was a child, my Aunt Nell would always tell me, “patience is a virtue which you must possess.” She said this to me a lot. Suffice it to say, I am not a very patient person (I think I come by this naturally. I think you would agree if you met my family). It is one of my faults and something I struggle with. I know that I must be patient about my slow progress because I lived a certain way and had a certain outlook on life and opinion of myself for so many years before now. I know that I can’t change seventeen years of behavior in eight weeks. Some days are a struggle not to revert back to the easy and lazy way of living. I’m working hard on 100% believing that I am worth that effort and daily struggle. And these days, struggle it is.
I am no saint. I get frustrated and angry that I have not been rewarded with quick weight loss or drastic changes in my appearance. I’ve done the quick and drastic way before (with the help of prescription drugs or extremely unhealthy eating patterns). It didn’t stick. I know this. So each day I forge on and remind myself that I am changing my life, day by day.
What is really dragging me down right now is my foot and this stupid stress fracture. Yes, stress fracture, I’m calling you stupid. I want you out of my life for good. I want to be able to go back to the gym and do what I want. I miss my Zisters. I’m tired of having to respect the pain and modify my workouts not to upset my finicky foot. I’m tired of having to Windex my boot after a night of cooking because there are unknown juices and stains on my boot. Plus, the gym has become my happy place, and I miss it. I’ve been taking it easy this week because I’ve had some increased foot pain. The source of the pain is either the aggressive marching I did on Monday (I can’t believe I typed the words “aggressive marching”), sliding around on ice in this boot, or from stretching while lying in bed. I realize that admitting these three things as a source of pain kind of makes me pathetic. Foot pain from stretching while IN BED? Surely not.
However, it is hard not to feel ridiculous this week. Let me paint you a picture: I’ve been playing a game we’ll call pee-pee chicken. I lie on the couch and challenge myself on how long I can hold it before finally getting up to go to the bathroom. I’ve been drinking a lot of water lately, and if I don’t get out of this habit soon, I’m afraid I’ll accidentally pee on the couch (don’t tell my roommate)! Last night I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I was lying on the bed with my legs straight up in the air, trying to take off my pants without putting any weight on my foot. I’m really glad no one was around to witness that debacle. Or witness me losing my balance and almost ending up ass-first in the trash can. Or witness as I’m washing my face and lose my balance with my eyes closed, taking out my shelf in the bathroom because I don’t want to land on my foot without my boot. Ridiculousness abounds.