Walk it off.
Fourteen months between posts is a suitable cliffhanger interval, isn't it?
Our story thus far:
Last June I walked up the highest point in New Mexico, Wheeler Peak. At a little over 13,000 feet, it is the highest elevation I've hiked. It was an amazing trip overall. During that trip I slept in the desert, slept next to snow banks, climbed mountains, descended (and climbed back up) 2000 ft canyons, and climbed down into ancient volcanoes.
I also burned myself out.
The day before I left for New Mexico I ended up riding my mountain bike nearly 50 miles, with the last 10 miles or so without water, and with a couple of gallons of diesel tied to my back. I had started riding north earlier in the day, leaving a request for my girlfriend to come pick me up in the truck at a certain time. It was just supposed to be a nice easy ride with the wind at my back the entire time.
Well, it turns out the fuel gauge on my truck isn't accurate anymore, and within a mile of picking me up, we ran out of fuel in the middle of no where. I hopped back on my bike, sucked the last bit of water out of my hydration bladder and pedaled into the nearest town for fuel. It wasn't a horrible ride, though I was pretty dry by the time I hit town. I bought something to drink, a gas can, some rope, and some diesel. After lashing 16 pounds of fuel on my back I began riding against the wind back towards the truck.
So, to speed things along, I was already tired when I started my New Mexico hike, and when the diarrhea hit the first night on the trail, things just got better. It was still an amazing week, but it was too much at the time. When I got home I posted a quick trail report on a backpacking forum, and promised myself a week off from anything that would cause a sweat.
That week stretched into two weeks. I was still eating like I was hiking. Sure, there were a few car camps and a few day hikes, but the intensity was gone. I had lost 72 pounds over the previous year, and felt like I had the whole life style change thing down pat. A few pounds crept back over a couple of months, and I got back on track for a little while. When October came (and my yearly training at work) and I realized that I was not as healthy as I had planned on being by then, I panicked. I got back on track with both my eating and working out. At least for a little while. I let some stuff in late October get me down, and piled some other excuses on top of that, and suddenly by late Spring 2011 I had gained nearly 30 pounds back.
I lost a lot of confidence with those regained pounds.
Regaining the focus I had last year has been hard. It is late July, and I still haven't totally found my focus with food. I'm eating better, and not too much, but making the right choices has been more difficult this time. I get a little better each week.
Diet determines a person's weight, and physical activity determines a person's fitness level. Working out will never replace a proper diet. That being said, I've stopped worrying about the scale, and have started gauging my progress by doing the things I want to do. I figure the numbers on the scale will begin drop as I get better at the things I want to do. I've hiked over 100 miles this summer. I've made progress in the gym. In October I have a 65 mile backpacking trip planned. In April I have a 120 mile backpacking trip planned.
I'm still fat. I'm not really comfortable in my skin right now, but I am accomplishing the things I want to do. I am content with that. This time last summer I was 22 pounds lighter than I am at the moment, yet this last week I ran a mile without stopping or walking for the first time in my life. In fact, I have done it four times this month. Yesterday I ran the mile outside, against the wind for most of it, and managed to shave 14 seconds on my fastest treadmill time.
I've had people tell me that I can only blow out a knee by running. These are the same people who refuses to push themselves in anything they attempt. The same people that want to save money and eat healthy, but refuse to cook at home. Then there are the skinny little people who walk on the treadmill for an hour while talking on the phone and the guy who sits on the weight bench I need eating oatmeal who look at me funny for actually huffing and puffing and pouring sweat while at the gym.
Look down your nose at me for being fat and sweaty while working out, but you'd also be smug if you saw me in Burger King eating a double whopper with cheese, large fry and a large diet coke. Either way, I can't win in your eyes. Actually, I'm the winningest mofo you have seen today; you just don't realize it.
Too fat to run? My knees can't take the pounding? That's a jog, not a run?
Fuck you.
(I promise I'll get back with the tree hugging, crunchy granola, puppy dogs and bunny posts, but I had to say it.)
Our story thus far:
Last June I walked up the highest point in New Mexico, Wheeler Peak. At a little over 13,000 feet, it is the highest elevation I've hiked. It was an amazing trip overall. During that trip I slept in the desert, slept next to snow banks, climbed mountains, descended (and climbed back up) 2000 ft canyons, and climbed down into ancient volcanoes.
I also burned myself out.
The day before I left for New Mexico I ended up riding my mountain bike nearly 50 miles, with the last 10 miles or so without water, and with a couple of gallons of diesel tied to my back. I had started riding north earlier in the day, leaving a request for my girlfriend to come pick me up in the truck at a certain time. It was just supposed to be a nice easy ride with the wind at my back the entire time.
Well, it turns out the fuel gauge on my truck isn't accurate anymore, and within a mile of picking me up, we ran out of fuel in the middle of no where. I hopped back on my bike, sucked the last bit of water out of my hydration bladder and pedaled into the nearest town for fuel. It wasn't a horrible ride, though I was pretty dry by the time I hit town. I bought something to drink, a gas can, some rope, and some diesel. After lashing 16 pounds of fuel on my back I began riding against the wind back towards the truck.
So, to speed things along, I was already tired when I started my New Mexico hike, and when the diarrhea hit the first night on the trail, things just got better. It was still an amazing week, but it was too much at the time. When I got home I posted a quick trail report on a backpacking forum, and promised myself a week off from anything that would cause a sweat.
That week stretched into two weeks. I was still eating like I was hiking. Sure, there were a few car camps and a few day hikes, but the intensity was gone. I had lost 72 pounds over the previous year, and felt like I had the whole life style change thing down pat. A few pounds crept back over a couple of months, and I got back on track for a little while. When October came (and my yearly training at work) and I realized that I was not as healthy as I had planned on being by then, I panicked. I got back on track with both my eating and working out. At least for a little while. I let some stuff in late October get me down, and piled some other excuses on top of that, and suddenly by late Spring 2011 I had gained nearly 30 pounds back.
I lost a lot of confidence with those regained pounds.
Regaining the focus I had last year has been hard. It is late July, and I still haven't totally found my focus with food. I'm eating better, and not too much, but making the right choices has been more difficult this time. I get a little better each week.
Diet determines a person's weight, and physical activity determines a person's fitness level. Working out will never replace a proper diet. That being said, I've stopped worrying about the scale, and have started gauging my progress by doing the things I want to do. I figure the numbers on the scale will begin drop as I get better at the things I want to do. I've hiked over 100 miles this summer. I've made progress in the gym. In October I have a 65 mile backpacking trip planned. In April I have a 120 mile backpacking trip planned.
I'm still fat. I'm not really comfortable in my skin right now, but I am accomplishing the things I want to do. I am content with that. This time last summer I was 22 pounds lighter than I am at the moment, yet this last week I ran a mile without stopping or walking for the first time in my life. In fact, I have done it four times this month. Yesterday I ran the mile outside, against the wind for most of it, and managed to shave 14 seconds on my fastest treadmill time.
I've had people tell me that I can only blow out a knee by running. These are the same people who refuses to push themselves in anything they attempt. The same people that want to save money and eat healthy, but refuse to cook at home. Then there are the skinny little people who walk on the treadmill for an hour while talking on the phone and the guy who sits on the weight bench I need eating oatmeal who look at me funny for actually huffing and puffing and pouring sweat while at the gym.
Look down your nose at me for being fat and sweaty while working out, but you'd also be smug if you saw me in Burger King eating a double whopper with cheese, large fry and a large diet coke. Either way, I can't win in your eyes. Actually, I'm the winningest mofo you have seen today; you just don't realize it.
Too fat to run? My knees can't take the pounding? That's a jog, not a run?
Fuck you.
(I promise I'll get back with the tree hugging, crunchy granola, puppy dogs and bunny posts, but I had to say it.)
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