Erased

Last year, I blogged upon returning from Europe.

None of the pictures posted - just holes with a blue icon, showing that something should be there that wasn’t.  I recently replaced the arrows with the pictures, since I had rather helpfully captioned them.  The only issue?  The date of May 2023 was erased.

I haven’t blogged regularly in years, but that changes today. The Fitness Quest is back with a vengeance, and I’m already one week in.

You see, I have weight to erase.

Lots of weight. 🤩

Ohhhh I’m chunky.

SO, basically the last time I was in the 160’s was a brief encounter in May 2022, right before my Daddy died.

Ignore the other girls 🤪

Ideally, 153 is the goal, because that was the weight I wanted back in 2015, when I started the blog.  Daddy died, and that night I ate an entire bag of chips…not thinking grief would trigger a change.

It did.

I miss my Daddy terribly.

Lo and behold, I enter menopause two months later. Vicious hot flashes and incessant night sweats wrecked havoc with my body. Exercise did nothing to help me, and my weight slowly crept up.  I landed at 188, maintaining that weight despite bursts of extended exercise.

I walked over 100 miles in Europe and LOST NOT A POUND.

I returned home very discouraged and disappointed with my weight; the trip was intended to kickstart loosing weight. (Losing weight! Gotta start remembering that again. 🥳)

Menopause was still kicking my butt, and as I researched possible remedies I was bombarded with the same message: CANT LOSE WEIGHT DUE TO HORMONES?!? 

And I believed them, since mine were actively trying to incinerate me.

I’ve started to look my Nana.

It didn’t help that we had the hottest summer on record in Phoenix, and we had to sit tight as we were limited by summer heat.  It broke, as always, but I had a ton of work to do - we were behind, imho.

And I was very very consumed with how much work we had to do.

So my weight was the FURTHEST THING FROM MY MIND…and I maintained the same 188lbs.

And I was still seeing ads that the inability to lose weight wasn’t my fault (and if I just took their supplements🥸).

But then it happened:

The Commander got engaged on Christmas Eve!!!

So there’s a wedding in October 2024…just 10 months away!!

I still did nothing.

Well, I did do stuff. Like head back to NYC to see Rocky.

But I didn’t even consider losing weight.

I looked at Mother of the Bride dresses…and decided this was the one I wanted:

With those shoes.

And I convinced myself I’d be ok in a large Preen Finella dress (if I could find one, still looking) as let’s be honest. My weight is mostly in my thighs, and you can hide those in a big skirt.

Except.

I also had, for the first time except for pregnancy, belly fat.

And I hated how I felt.

I’m not certain I ever got used to feeling flabby-it bothered me all the time. But the stresses of building a fantastic business, which has now brought in $1.2 MILLION dollars in revenue, has been intense.

But last year’s photo is pretty happy. We are succeeding in building something amazing.

So the “plan” was to join the Buckeye in a diet study he was volunteering for. Two years in a dietitian lead clinical trial.  We agreed to tackle the vegetarian keto menu with gusto, and ate copious amounts of Little Debbie Nutty Buddy’s in the meantime. I often rewarded my hard work with my beloved chips, and I suspected my weight had entered the danger zone.

Still madly in love with this guy!  Seven years this month!

Unfortunately for us, he landed in the control group-meaning they hand him the plan and say see you in two years.

We are ollllllllllld.

So, we didn’t do anything😂😂😂

And continued to ask each other if we’d like a Nutty Buddy. (We always said yes and grinned with glee!)

As I looked at dresses, I also realized that in late June I may want to look thinner than I was, due to a potential work commitment.

And then I was rear ended, and got a concussion.

Yes folks, I hit my head, again.

Me at my warning weight.

And in the ER, when they asked my weight, I lied through my teeth and said 190lbs.  And at the doctor the following week when they asked me to get on the scale, I declined.

Eight days ago, I found the scale in our spare bathroom and nervously got on it.  

200.00

And that was it.

Weight that much was never something I wanted to do.

Sooooooooo

Fast 800.

I actually didn’t know I was doing it until last night; my panicked brain at seeing that number just quickly put together a plan that happened to be scientifically proven (which means I must have read about it at some point in the Daily Mail.😂)

I pulled out the calorie counting app and dialed in a goal weight of 153 by October for the wedding, and it said I could only consume 932 calories a day.

That honestly seemed reasonable…I’m a natural faster.  I figured I’d throw in a few 500 calorie days a la 5/2; unwittingly I am actually doing the fast 800.

BUT WHAT ABOUT THE HORMONES?!?

So here’s the deal….i know of several who are on semiglutide (Ozempic).  They range in age from 40-65.  All of them have lost significant weight.

So I did a little research and discovered these shots make you feel full very quickly, and you eat less.

THEY WORK BECAUSE YOU LIMIT YOUR CALORIE INTAKE.

I also clearly remembered a study in the Lancet that the best way for people to lose weight was simply to stick to 800 or less calories a day. That it was proven to reverse type two diabetes.

I don’t have diabetes.  I just love chips.

I decided that it all came down to willpower, and nothing else.  Being honest, I knew everytime I’ve recorded calories, I cheated on portion size.  And in all truth, I’ve never, ever, tried consistently to cut calories long term.  The shots trick your brain into thinking you’ve eaten more.  Why couldn’t I just tell my brain to stuff it?

And so it began, one week ago.  

And I’ve lost 5.6 pounds.

194.4.

Time to erase the unnecessary weight, get my health straightened out and get going. I’ve got a national company to found:)

Let’s go!

The Aristocracy

I’ve just returned from the United Kingdom, and my distain for the aristocracy has been renewed.

Except for her, and her family, of course.

Let’s just be honest: no matter what I do, I will never be rich. Not like them, at least.  Even though I am well on my way to creating a company that I know I can eventually sell for millions, I will never be rich like them.

The elite.

Patreos principal divides the world into the 80/20.  The aristocracy goes one further and divides that 20% into another 80/20.  This top  20% of the upper 20% are very careful to protect their ranks; Meghan Markle is proof of that.

The Commander, in a room at the castle we stayed in.

I love capitalism, so what I say next is going to be a shock to everyone: at this point in time we might as well have socialized medicine. The aftermath of the Covid pandemic, the lockstep of all health systems to demand compliance…they really are one in the same. Big Pharma is the elite, the insurance companies the rich, and everyone else is just down on the pecking order.  My visit to the ER right after my  return to America reminded me that the poorest among us will seek out ER care because they cannot be turned away. Those with good health insurance can also afford it . Those of us in the middle however, are left footing the bill for both parties, with our sky high deductibles and large co-pays.  I remember Rush Limbaugh saying that Obamacare was designed to fail; that it would drive prices up so high the people would beg for socialized medicine. Well, here we are. I’d rather have socialized medicine, then deal with the system the way it is. The plan worked.

Maybe.

In Europe, I walked an average of 9 miles a day. I did not lose any weight. I’m at my absolute heaviest , and nothing seems to change. I have sought medical help, and no one can tell me what is wrong. “It’s just menopause“ and then they want me to take a bunch of pills. 

What about diet and lifestyle?

Because I’m certain, my obsession with potato chips is not healthy at all.

Right now there is so much junk science supporting whatever cause a person believes in it’s really hard to know what is the honest to God truth.

You can research whatever topic you want and you will find scientific proof to back up what you want to believe. We saw this in the pandemic; “trust the science” was used by both sides, and supporting their cause. Which side was right? Likely, there was some real truth in both arguments; a middle ground that we will never discover because of the polarization of each stance.

My faux mask life…

In general, I am an optimist. The last four years, however, have worn me down. I need help figuring out my health, but it seems none is to be found. My medical doctor wants me to take prescriptions off label that might help. My naturopath doctor wants me to take supplements that might help. My own attempts at exercise, i.e. the aforementioned 9 miles of walking a day for two weeks with no weight loss, did help my blood pressure and my resting heart rate but it didn’t improve my weight, or my LPR. 

Beyond discouraged about my personal health. 

To make matters worse, it’s Summer. The high heat of Phoenix makes it nearly impossible to do any outside exercise; which is where I prefer to be.  It is my legitimate hope to relocate to Prescott for June, July and August. To be able to hike regularly in the places I love.  To get away from the freezer full of frozen meat, and a pantry full of canned goods and shop at the Farmers Market instead…

I guess I can see the hills from my house here in Phoenix…

These are the days in which you don’t know if you were at the starting line of a marathon, or at mile marker 25.  Both are daunting - one no more than the other. On our trip, I realized that I was truly at my point of breaking, no matter what spot it was.

But this (it’s the freakin’ CONCORDE)

And this (that’s Disneyland PARIS, y’all🤩)

And yes, even this (season opening photo for 2023)

These little thing…these points of joy…are proof it’s going to be ok. If I seek first His kingdom, it doesn’t matter there’s an aristocracy, a TBI that causes my personal life endless challenges and everything else.

Because, in the end, I’m always an optimist.  

And no matter what, I will never believe in the no win scenario…

And always make lemonade (or lemon meringue, or lemon curd) out of life’s lemons.

Always.

Habit making

Welp, I just realized I’ve gone four days without exercising.  Actually. Four months. Ish.

But I also have a Top Gun nod in one of my puzzle rides, sooooo…

My habit making effort lasted about 10 days. I’ll try again-if at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.

Which has pretty much been my life for the past five years?!

Note the little 🔒 beside the date. Facebook is my online diary; sometimes I post things just for me.  This, however, I reflect on for the better: “But maybe.”

Puzzle Rides was still in its infancy, not making enough to cover its own expenses. Gregg’s brain injury still consumed our days (lol, kinda still does…) For the first time in my life, I was fighting depression, having been banned from all in-person medical care and public in general. 

“But maybe.”

Maybe love would conquer the hard days (two and a half years later, some days are still very hard. Overall, however - so much better.) Maybe the attorney general’s office would help (lol-finally!!) Maybe my little company would work (spoiler - it pays all our bills and we are looking to expand! Come join us, no golf cart required yet!)

My depression broke when I played a worship song I heard at Abbie’s baptism on repeat - My Shepherd - which is simply a version of Psalm 23.  It begins “IF the Lord, you are my shepherd, what shall I fear, what shall I want.”

IF.  But maybe.

It’s a choice.

A choice to choose to walk in love. A choice to work hard to grow a business. A choice to stay when it would be easier to go. A choice to choose the promises of God-IF He was my Shepherd…you see, it’s a choice to be shepherded.

For a week, in my office I played this song.  At the end of that week, Gregg lost his job.  We rushed the opening of Puzzle Rides Scottsdale.  My days filled, and my mother died. My father came, the business grew. I changed, for the better. Then my daddy died, and sorrow struck. 

Along with this crazy thing called menopause.

And I gained ridiculous weight after having lost a significant amount…despite not changing anything. 

Thankfully this guy doesn’t say a word about it-even with a brain injury he knows to keep quiet!! 😂

So habit making?

I’m really wretched at it.  

Really wretched.

Now let’s chat about menopause.

It’s 4:22am right now, and I’m drenched in sweat.

Supplements worked for a few months, then completely quit working.

So what to do?

Wait for the dawn for one…

Well, I guess I need to start exercising again.

I’ve gone back to the pool.

It’s indoors, which isn’t ideal, but it’s close. The Buckeye said he’ll go with me; except he’ll go workout.  So I’ve gone now, twice.

They don’t allow phones on the pool deck. 🙄

And my kicks aren’t right and my swim caps don’t keep out water.

But I’m not a blonde, sooooo

And I had a motorcycle accident when the bike fell on me and now my thing is banged up…

My biker hubby took me to go watch planes for lunch!!!

But I’m at it. Again.

I like repeating visits to the Open. Gyms? Not so much.

Anyone want to take bets how long this time lasts?

😂😂😂

Work Hard Play Hard

I’ve done 10-30 lunges per leg, and 10-30 squats everyday since my last blog. I also added in 15 second wall-sits.

I cannot move after my three sets of ten this morning🤪

Let’s be real though, it’s really barely exercise. I have to hang on to stuff to not topple over. I don’t execute the lunges to even half way. My seconds on the wall counting are *not* punctuated by the word “Mississippi” between numbers.  This morning I’m totally out of breath, and practicing rescue breathing so the lovely Air Monster does not produce a VCD attack.  Menopause hit me hard, and I constantly feel inflamed. Weight isn’t budging, the hot flashes are insane when my herbal remedies are off.

Being 51 is not fun, and I’m the only one who can change that.  This year, my autumn vow challenges me to do that, and so much more.

Early on when I met the Buckeye in 2017, I began vowing things to him. At first, it was a knee-jerk response to his insistence I was “like other women.” 

Them be fighting words….😂

Anyhow, my first two vows were generalized ones, that applied to any relationship. I added two more after we were a couple, as I learned more about him. Those four became my wedding vows.

I should have done a navy lace up. Everytime I look at these photos, that’s what I think.

Then he almost died, and suffered a brain injury in which he largely forgot our relationship.  He was no longer the man I married; at our one year anniversary, I had to decide to stay or go.

I chose to stay, and made that a vow I repeated in front of my friends.

It has not been easy. While I remember who the Buckeye was, and what we shared, he still does not. For him, our relationship largely began after his injury-although occasionally a fleeting memory of those halcyon days pops up. Imagine if you will, waking up from an accident to a person who is madly in love with you…who you recognize, but don’t don’t feel anything for. I actually understand this phenomenon, as it happened to me after my TBI. I looked at my children, my husband and family and felt nothing. My neurologist told me the feelings would return…and they did for my children. But not for my husband, or for my dogs. So to vow to stay with a man who had a much more severe TBI? I knew it would be rough.

But there was hope. Moments of clarity. The ease of daily life - we do love to live the exact same way (minus college football teams.) The flicker of remembrance, the new memories being made.  Yesterday I found the scribbled notes I took on a road trip to California, in early January 2020. It was my initial idea for our now thriving company.  The continual joy we have in our mutual successes are very reassuring; my hope has become rebellious. 

I’ve made him two more vows, always on our anniversary, and always after much prayer. There have been many times I think I can’t continue; TBI’s are terribly unpredictable. Yet through the years I have learned this:  I am capable of much. I can handle more than I thought. I can also grow.  This past month I’ve realized that my vows to him have changed me into a much better person; one who has grown and matured in a positive way. It’s no longer just about him; it’s more about us, and each other individually.

We both admit we prefer us, over all other options.

I know my vow for this year; it came to me on a bike ride back in May. The Buckeye knows it, too; it’s already challenging both of us as we realize it’s much more than we thought it to be on its surface. 

Work hard, play hard.

I adore my husband. I can honestly say I have never loved a man the way I love the Buckeye. Whether he remembers our courtship doesn’t really matter-as I remember it. The depth of healing his unconditional love brought to me I will never forget, nor displace. He earned my unconditional love through some pretty rough waters, in which his patience, faith and wisdom brought me to a place of good mental and spiritual health. This past year, my vow to extend grace taught me so much - and rebuilt some of my lost self esteem.  It is with these new lessons in mind that I realize this new vow is not simply about working the business hard and taking more time off.

It’s about working hard on our relationship. It’s about working hard on our individual health issues. It’s about working hard on our joint diet, of how and what we eat. 

But the play hard?? 

Lol, we have that one figured out, and it’s not only vacationing.

Although being able to vacation again has been pretty wonderful after a three year hiatus!

As I work to develop to habit to do this little workout every morning, I’m also working to notice bad habits that need breaking.  Bad habits that created problems in our relationship; habits that may have brought temporary peace but damaged the heart. It’s not easy admitting you actually create environments for behavior that hurt - and it’s a challenging part of  “work hard.”

That said, the results of my prior vows encourages me to continue to have rebellious hope.

And I get to be a biker chic while doing it!

Things I control

10 lunges, 10 squats 

I can sorta control that while hanging on to both my dresser and my bed.

I can also control how organized things are..,,

Ughhhhhh.

Welp, I’m in trouble, again.

Me and Manchild, the brand new Marine.

Life has suddenly become much better, hence the ability to finally start looking at my health again. You’ll recall it all crashed and burned before due to a wicked eye issue, then a pandemic, then my mother’s death, caring for my dad, and now his passing. 

This morning I am very cognizant of my crunchy knees, the extra 35lbs (did I mention I was 170lbs this spring? Then my Daddy died - I’ve gained 15lbs in just two months!!!) and the fact I gave away all my size 12’s.

Thank God I did.

Lol ignore those girls behind me. I weighed 171 here and was very proud of it. (Sigh, I’ve always had cellulite, even when thin. Genetics are evil.)

So, let’s retrace this fitness quest.

Gave up around Feb 2020.

Broke my rule, bought larger sizes.

Went up to around 195lb (not certain, as I refused to get on a scale for sometime) by the fall of 2021.

Trying the ever popular “crossing my legs to look thinner” pose.

Puzzlemaster Harry got Covid in December 2021, so I filled in for him during our busiest season and climbed 4 flights of stairs several times a day. Dropped 10lbs.

Stopped putting flavored creamer in my coffee, and extended my daily fast, effectively going on a pseudo 16-8 diet.  Continued doing those stairs. Dropped 15lbs.

Dad died, the summer heat started and our seasonal slowdown occurred. That and they fixed the elevator, and stairs in 115° heat just wasn’t my thing.

And I indulged in food for comfort, as I mourned my father, dealt with the Buckeye’s summer TBI troubles, and worried about my children as I raced to catch up on things while I could.

So here we are, 185lbs and barely fitting into 10’s and nowhere to go but down as I gave away all my 12’s.

Sigh.

Manchild became a Marine 10 days ago, which was a huge relief. He spent 5 1/2 months in bootcamp, and never gave up. We journeyed to California to meet him, and then flew to Mackinac for my belated 50th birthday celebration. Upon my return, I know things must change, and finally I believe they can.

The gray skies kept the Fudgies away!

Things I can control:

What I eat

How often I eat

How much I move

My daily routine

Perhaps now I can finally achieve the quest, which is simply to be healthy. After two years of no medical care (long story, I was denied it due to my medical inability to wear a mask. Gee, thanks Air Monster) it definitely seems like a good time.

Right?

Here we go again…

If Manchild can become a Marine; surely I can get fit 😍

Different

I’m not who I was just one year ago, writing about swimming and trying to create a new habit before I turned 50.

My 50th year has been remarkable.

Not in exercise (hahahahahahahahaha, ha!) but interestingly, it’s been remarkable in spirit.

When I met the Buckeye (yes, he’s still my hubby, of now nearly four years) it was on our second date I stated that my first goal in any relationship was to bring the other person joy. As time went on, I added to these relationship promises; the first four became my wedding vows to him. Each year, I have added a new vow to work on - as our marriage has been quite the roller coaster with first,  his job loss and then the devastating traumatic brain injury.  The TBI has tested my mettle; he largely forgot much of our time dating…

Yeah.  

He knew who I was, but not really how we got to that point.  And it’s been very, very difficult.

So each year we’ve gotten through, always hoping for a better future, I’ve made a new vow to him. Year one was to not give up on him-a very solemn vow, as his brain injury was still fresh, and the healing process very slow.  

I did it in front of friend, as I wanted the accountability.

Then the pandemic hit…and we pivoted Ride into an entirely new business. Year two I vowed to forgive him as many as seventy times seven…and I probably did far more than a minimum of 490 times! 

Just us, on the edge of the Mogollon Rim.

So year three, I thought life would be much easier when I told him I vowed to extend grace to him. His brain had healed to the point he no longer had daily outbursts, and my willingness to forgive during the prior year had helped me hear him better when he did loose it. We had been in counseling for about six weeks at that point, and promising him my “unmerited favor” seems almost trite to the prior years’ promises.

My tan is the last remnants of me swimming all summer. My delight in finding an exercise I loved ended when my pool closed unexpectedly the first week of August, the day after my birthday😭

You’ll note my true smiles in every photo.  No matter how bad his injury, and how hard the trials, I absolutely adore the Buckeye.  Our joint counseling basically told me I was simply feeling sorry for myself, and to put on my big girl panties. It truly helped us better understand his injury, and we began trying to focus on what he could control-and working to prevent triggers. So showing him grace?  I thought it would be easy-or at least easier than the prior two years.

Wrong.

I got my nose pierced as a 50th birthday gift from the Buckeye, which I had assumed would be an easy thing, too. 🤪😂😂😂😂. Not.

Extending grace means showing unmerited favor.  Let’s delve into that, shall we? Unmerited means they did nothing to deserve the favor. And favor?

Oh boy.

So essentially, my pool closed (that had been helping with my overall health), our counselor said I was feeling sorry for myself (WELL DUH MY HUSBAND HIT HIS HEAD AND FORGOT ME) and I was now supposed to show my husband favor when he really wasn’t certain why I was still with him after his injury, as he had no memory of us falling in love.

Plus my Mon had died just months earlier, my Daddy lived with us, the Princess had moved back in to help with my Daddy, and we had a business that was about to take a rocket ship ride….

The Princess, my Daddy, Manchild and the Commander last summer.

Oh, and Manchild was homeless most of the time, too, trying to get his life on track by loosing weight to join the Marine Corp.  Thankfully the Commander was doing pretty good by this point!

So the stresses were huge….

And I chose to extend grace.

And my life changed for the better.

Over the last year, I made the habit of choosing to extend grace to everyone. My husband. My father. My son. My daughters. My friends. My customers.  

Myself.

The Buckeye still has his ups and downs. Somedays are tremendously difficult, when his triggers fire and I’m in the crosshairs. (To be transparent-we are talking about emotional issues. There is no violence, just a lot of emotional anger that is very typical in those with brain injuries.) I’ve learned how to not to take it personally (most of the time; I do still fail, however, lol! I’m not perfect!) and I’ve remembered that I have a choice. Admittedly, our incredible success in business has helped-tremendously. 

I mixed my 14 years as a sales trainer with my five years with Ride…and we have the most AMAZING corporate team building activity-ever!!

As days grew increasingly busy, the stresses grew. I had high demands on my time to create and execute new ideas for the business, and it didn’t matter if the Buckeye could support me emotionally. It was my choice to show him grace, it was my choice to look at everything in my life as something to extend grace to.  Manchild’s life was upside down, as he struggled to get to weight to join the Corp while bouncing from couch to couch. Supporting an adult child without enabling them was incredibly hard, as you want so badly to step in and make everything better. Many long showers were had, as I prayed and cried during my only time alone. As the holidays rolled around my Daddy got sick, which landed him in the hospital. When he returned home months later he was bedridden, unable to care for himself other than the ability to feed himself. 

Manchild left for boot camp right before my Daddy came home from the hospital in late February.

At the same time, Manchild was headed to boot camp, and I had grave concerns as he had lost the weight but was not physically ready after an extended six weeks of sickness.  Indeed, six weeks in he was pulled from training to a Physical Conditioning Platoon- and it was rough…it would be nine more weeks before he returned to training. Our busiest season is Feb - April, and we were going nonstop. The Buckeye was limited in what he could do, and it frustrated him even more. My time was divided between the business, taking care of Daddy (the Princess helped tremendously!), trying to encourage Manchild and help my husband deal with triggers.  Then my dearest Daddy died in late May, and the summer heat did it’s number once again on the brain-injured Buckeye.  

Through all of it - every bit - I didn’t exercise. The loss of the pool and the whirlwind of business, coupled with the additional care my Daddy needed meant every waking moment was simply trying to catch up…and then, it all stopped.

The summer doldrums hit, and I caught up on work. We hired others to help us. The Princess made plans to move, and Manchild miraculously became a Marine.

It’s been one year since I discovered swimming. One year since I blogged. One year since the rocket ship took off….

And I’m better for it.

Did I mention I became his biker chic this last year, too? I’m trusting him that he won’t dump the bike-he’s trusting me I won’t abandon him.

I need to return to a sensible diet, and I need to incorporate exercise, again. But first, I need to go home.

To Michigan, and to Mackinac.

Extending Grace has earned me a trip home…and I am hoping it is there the Buckeye will find peace.  For he already knows the vow I will say on the fourth anniversary:

Work hard, play hard.

It’s time to make everything, finally, right.