My First 1,000 Days

Today is my 1,000th day on myfitnesspal; my 1,000th day of logging every bite of food (yes, every one, every day); my 1,000th day of working toward being a better me.


I was morbidly obese. I weighed in at 233 pounds, I struggled to move, I wore size 22/24 (and was beginning to “outgrow” those), I smoked a pack or more a day (and had for 20 years), I parked in the closest parking spots I could find – not out of laziness, but because it was uncomfortable to walk, I kept a stock of grocery bags in the trunk of my car because I was too weak to carry in the groceries if the bags had more than 2 cans (it took both hands to carry a gallon of milk), I had to pull myself up the stairs, I was uncomfortable driving because I had to pull the seat far enough forward to be able to reach the pedals, but this caused the steering wheel to jut into my immense belly. And I felt sorry for myself – for life having at times dealt me an unkind hand and for my plight as a morbidly obese person who didn’t eat “that badly” and was destined to a life of hearing people sigh with relief as I passed their row on an airplane and they knew I wasn’t going to be sitting next to them (and spilling into their seat).

And then I had the moment that changed everything…


I ran in high school & college because I enjoyed it, it kept me healthy and it cleared my head and kept me calm. While in college, I survived a brutal assault during which I was held captive, tortured and raped. It took several weeks for the wounds to heal and needing to clear my head more than ever before, I started running again. I was quickly stricken with shin splints. Although shin splits are not earth shattering, at the time I barely had the emotional fortitude to carry on with things that were working – I certainly didn’t have the strength to work through things that weren’t. So running became added to the long list of things my attacker took from me and I moved on.

Fast forward 19 years and a staggering 95 pounds to the fall of 2011 when I was walking one of our dogs. Ordinarily, when he spots a squirrel, goose, duck or other “prey”, he starts squirming and if no one is around, we’ll let him off the leash to chase whatever wild game has caught his attention. The particular squirrel that day must have been especially offensive, because he didn’t wait for an “OK” – he took off. And he’s a husky – so when he takes off – you go right along with him. So off we went – in a full-on sprint after this squirrel. When he finally stopped (probably all of 10 yards later), I wondered if the proper protocol was to call the coroner before or after I rolled my lifeless, sweaty carcass out of the sight of small children. But after I finally caught my breath – I had the a-ha moment. It occurred to me that I have been angry for nearly 20 years about all the things my attacker took from me – and in that one single moment, I realized that I have let him keep them. That was it – the moment I began this whole “journey” – the moment I told myself that although there are many things I will never get back – I would absolutely reclaim my life from the man who tried to kill me.


And I started a c25k plan. A brisk walk was at 2 mph, I “ran” at 3.5 mph. It seemed impossible that I would ever run a mile again, or an entire 5k. It seemed impossible that I would ever be not obese. It seemed impossible that I would ever be small enough to fit into clothes that didn’t have an X in the size – the idea of a single-digit size was just ludicrous. The notion of reaching a healthy weight seemed as possible as turning myself into a flying unicorn.

And so I set the same goals that I have now – to focus on the behaviors (the things I can control) and the results would happen. Eat “better” (or less) and move more and the rest will take care of itself.

And I plugged away – diligently following my c25k plan, logging my food, bereft of mfp “friends” or forums and six months later, I had lost 60 or 65 pounds. I had also run a 2 mile and a 5k road race. I was wearing a size 12, and no longer had to shop in the plus sizes, and I had finally crossed into “just” overweight. Life was good, and this healthy bit was easy when I only had to worry about eating right and exercise.

And then life started to happen. I got vertigo – and for the first time, I wasn’t able to exercise. Then we had to buy a new house and move (very quickly) and while we were out looking at houses, I got a call that both of my parents had been admitted to the hospital. The next few months were filled with house-buying drama, house-renovating drama (our new house and having to do massive renovations at my parents’ house), hospital visits, my own surgery and a few work travels thrown in for good measure. But that all passed, and I was still here. Not where I wanted to be, but certainly not where I started.

And so I kept plugging. I was still here. My mfp pals were still cheering my successes (no matter how small). My mfp pals were here doing the work day in and day out – inspiring me to be the best me that I can be. And I came every day. I worked to be the best I could be that day. I ran the anniversary of my first 2 races and had added a 10k to my plan. Then life happened again. I had a miscarriage. I struggled a great deal with that and for quite a while afterwards.

But I was still here. And I was still trying. My mfp pals were still cheering my successes (no matter how small). My mfp pals were here doing the work day in and day out – inspiring me to be the best me that I can be. And I came every day. I worked to be the best I could be that day. And by November of 2013, I was just one pound above a healthy weight. I had lost 87 pounds. And life happened again. I battled unexplained exhaustion, travels for work, broken toes, medication debacles, and the ongoing saga of caring for my disabled parents.

But I was still here. And I was still trying. My mfp pals were still cheering my successes (no matter how small). My mfp pals were here doing the work day in and day out – inspiring me to be the best me that I can be. And I came every day. I worked to be the best I could be that day.

And six months ago – life really happened.

I quit smoking. Weeks after that, I chose to finally tackle the demons left from the assault. My husband and I split. I suffered a back injury. And on the same day my sister in law had a mass removed from her brain, both of my parents were admitted to the hospital.


But I am still here. And I am still trying. My mfp pals are still cheering my successes (no matter how small). My mfp pals are here doing the work day in and day out – inspiring me to be the best me that I can be. And I come every day. I work to be the best I can be that day. And I celebrate that I now lament that I “only” ran 3 miles; I celebrate that I can carry in 18 2-liter bottles of soda at a time, I celebrate that I am just past 6 months smoke and nicotine-free, I celebrate that I fit in airplane seats and can park anywhere without worry, I celebrate that I do have good days – even if they are few and far between lately.

And my goal is the same for day 1,000 as it was for the previous 999 and as it will be for the remainder of my days on earth: make today one of the good ones; and eat less and move more.

Here's to the next 1,000!



If you're a picture junky, there are some in my profile or check here:

http://www.myfitnesspal.com/topics/show/971842-it-was-an-accident-pics