“Am I the only one I know
Waging my wars behind my face and above my throat?”
–Twenty-One Pilots, “Migraine”
Miles Last Week: 46
Total Miles: 303.5
Yesterday, I prepared to step onto the scale after my time on the elliptical, as I do every Saturday morning at the gym. I wiped every drop of sweat I could from my face–I definitely didn’t want those ounces to count against me. I took a deep breath, stepped onto the small black box, and moved the counterweights until the needle seemed balanced. Then, I looked at the number–
–and saw that I’d lost 50.5 pounds.
I’ve done a lot of thinking about what hitting the fifty-pound mark would be like. In my head, my reaction would typically fall somewhere between collapsing on the floor in a giggling, hysterical mess and announcing my milestone to everyone in the gym, who would then celebrate me with a round of slow claps and/or fist bumps. (No hugging, of course, because we would all be sweaty and kind of gross.)
In reality, I took another deep breath, grabbed my keys, and went home.
A few weeks (and about ten pounds) ago, a couple of friends asked me if I felt any different after making some progress. The simple, honest truth is that I don’t. Not even a little bit. I don’t even think I look different.
Sure, I intellectually recognize that my clothes don’t fit the same. I’m able to fit three fingers into the waistband of pants that I had no hope of wearing a year ago. (Why am I so obsessed with talking about my pants?) I can comfortably cross my arms while wearing my wool coat without worrying about going full-Hulk. I know that there is room in my wardrobe where there hasn’t been before. I even see that I’m able to last longer on the elliptical. But I can’t say that I feel different. None of it seems like it’s really happening.
And please don’t think that I’m trolling for compliments or need an ego boost. I’m just trying this thing where I’m honest about stuff, and the truth is that I thought I’d feel more accomplished or excited, at least.
I think this is what they call a “mental wall.” That’s a thing, right?
Perhaps it hasn’t sunken in yet. Maybe it’s that I still see how far there is to go. Or I could be looking into the wrong types of mirrors. I don’t know.
For now, I think I’ll treat myself to some homemade angel pie and that always-uplifting zombie drama–The Walking Dead.