Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

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A list and a loss: one year of my life

Between April 4, 2018 and April 4, 2019, I lost almost 33 pounds.

I’m not supposed to tell you this. At least, that’s the vibe I get when I start talking about it in person. When people start to notice that I’ve lost weight, they all want to know the same thing:

How?

I get the sense that people are trying to figure out why it worked for me or why it hasn’t worked for them, whatever the “it” is they’ve tried. Maybe they are just curious and interested. Maybe I’m overthinking it.

The truth is I wish the changes to my body were more magical and easy than they were. In the last year, I made some hard decisions about my exercise routine and my diet, and when I look back on the journey, it was all of it worth it. But none of it was easy. Not the way I want it to be.

—

I turned 40 last year.

And I was tired of what was happening to my mind, my body and my soul. I was making choices, yes, but I also felt like I was letting circumstances and other people determine how my life was going to be. Mostly, it was just a matter of me needing to take action in my own life.

Photo by Glenn Carstens-Peters on Unsplash

That’s when I made a list of what I wanted my life to be about for the years 40 and beyond. It’s not a bucket list, because I don’t want the pressure of feeling like I have to accomplish this stuff before some undetermined end date of my life. It’s simply an after-40 list and on it are the things I don’t want to keep putting off for someday.

It’s been a year since I made the list. It’s a computer file that sits on my desktop, and I see it every time I open my computer. On the one hand, when I open it and look at all the checkmarks, I think maybe I could have accomplished more. But then I remind myself that the point is not to rush through everything on the list. It’s an in-progress document. I add things to it as I think of them. And I don’t delete the things that I’ve accomplished. I keep them there with a big checkmark next to them as a record of the positive changes and experiences I’ve had.

This last year has been mostly about my own health and wellness. For me, that is the foundation of all the other things.

My list is divided into categories: physical health; personal growth; travel; experiences; writing; and identity/heritage/family.

Physical health was a priority in the last year because I (like a lot of women I know) have spent years (maybe even an entire decade) taking care of other people and neglecting myself.  Years of therapy helped me to realize that I was worth taking care of, and that’s part of the reason I started the list. I need to see things in writing or in print to remember them. My brain is filled with too many words and ideas and thoughts to automatically remember what it is I want to do.

So, last year, around February, I started running again. My daughter has been participating in Girls on the Run and because I am her running buddy, I usually start training in the late winter/early spring so that I can complete the 5K with her. I committed to running a couple of times a week.

In years past, I tapered off after the 5K and didn’t keep running through the summer because a) it was hard to find time while the kids were home from school and b) heat and humidity is not my friend. But last year, I kept doing it. I think I took three weeks off in July because of schedules and heat but I stuck with it through the bulk of summer. I ran the 5K with my daughter, and then my husband and I ran one on Thanksgiving morning. A month ago, our family of four ran another 5K. And this year’s Girls on the Run 5K is coming up soon. 

Four 5Ks in the span of a year? I would have never thought it possible for me.

But running was just part of the story.

I was having issues with food and I suspected some problem areas but I wasn’t sure. After reading and planning, I decided to do a Whole30 in October. I won’t get into all the details here. You can read up on it yourself if you want, but I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that it was the single most transformative experience of the last year. It is a month-long food experiment that eliminates temporarily some common food groups that cause things like bloating or intestinal problems. It’s mostly meat, veggies, fruit and good fats.

Yes, it was difficult. But it was so beneficial I’m thinking about doing another one this summer. I learned about what foods my body can’t handle without negative consequences. I ate good food. I felt amazing. Like I had unlimited energy.

And I lost weight.

—

This is where it gets hard to talk about. I’m hyperaware of the body positivity (and negativity) messages out there, and I am working hard to change my way of thinking. I don’t believe my body (or yours) has to look a certain way for me (or you) to feel good or be a worthwhile person.

Photo by Taylor Smith on Unsplash

And I love my body more now than I ever have. I feel more like myself, and I’m amazed at what my body can do. These aren’t bad things, but I have to keep in mind that this is what’s true for me. It is not necessarily a prescription for everyone.

There are dresses in my closet I haven’t worn in years and when I put them on now I feel confident and sexy. I recently wore shorts for the first time in a year and when I held the pair that last year was tight I had a moment of dread. But when I put them on, there was room to spare in the waistline.

So I still have to wonder: do my clothes have too much power over my mood and self-worth?

I like what my body can do. I am consistently running 1-2 miles two or three times a week, and I’m getting faster. I’m not winded when I walk up and down stairs. And when I have a week that is more inactive than others, my body lets me know that’s not okay. (Hence the lower back pain I’ve been battling for a few days. Too much sitting recently.)

All of these are positives in my life, and sometimes I feel bad talking about them. It’s not my job to manage other people’s feelings. I want to be proud of the work I’ve done to get myself in a position to feel good about how I look. And I know there are dangerous lines that I could cross and that others do cross.

There must be a balance.

—

My health wasn’t all about losing weight, though.

I got my eyes checked and ordered new glasses for the first time in six years. And early in my 40th year, I made an appointment for a mammogram so I wouldn’t keep putting it off. I’m scheduling massages for myself on a regular basis. These are the kinds of self-care that I typically neglect.

And what about the other categories on my list? Here’s some of what I spent the last year doing:

In the personal growth category, I started playing guitar again last fall and have played half a dozen times or more in church on Sunday mornings. Our worship leader has helped me stretch my knowledge of music and how to play guitar with a band. (There have been tears, mine not hers, but I’m enjoying myself more now because of my new skills.)

In writing, I’ve given my own projects priority and entered contests to get feedback on my progress. I’m attending a writing retreat this summer. More things that could easily slip through the cracks if I don’t view them intentionally.

In family/identity/heritage, we got professional family photos taken in the fall, something we hadn’t done in almost 10 years. It was long overdue.

Photo by Rachel Lynn Photography

Travel and experiences are the two categories that don’t get as much immediate attention, mostly because they require larger amounts of money and effort and time. But even listing them where I can see them and refer back to them is helpful. It reminds me to make actual plans, not putting things off for someday. It gives me something to hope for.

—

I could easily be discouraged that I didn’t make more progress on my list this year, and I am disappointed by some things. Like I need a better method and plan for learning sign language so I can communicate with our niece. And Phil and I have the desire and plan to get ring tattoos so we can do something different with our wedding rings, but that hasn’t come to fruition yet. (I have another idea for a tattoo but mostly I’m a little bit scared.)

I could easily be discouraged that I didn’t make more progress on my list this year, and I am disappointed by some things. There was the race I didn’t run, for example. And I need a better method and plan for learning sign language so I can communicate with our niece. Phil and I also have the desire and plan to get ring tattoos so we can do something different with our wedding rings, but that hasn’t come to fruition yet. (I have another idea for a tattoo but mostly I’m a little bit scared.)

Overall, though, I lean toward satisfied and encouraged. 

The list items I accomplished this year were not grand in magnitude but they made a difference in my life and how I live it. Forward progress.

If there’s anything I want my after-40 life to be about it’s that it’s not too late. To change. To grow. To try something new. To pursue a dream.

I’m excited to see what the next year brings and what I can accomplish between now and then.

I hope you’ll stick around for the journey as well.

#winning and the measure of success

Sometimes life is so ridiculous I can’t help but laugh. And shake my head in wonder.

I’m focusing on “intention” as a word for the year, and this weekend I learned that sometimes intention can be a negative thing.

A few weeks ago, we signed up as a family to run a 5K at a state park that has some significance in our family. Last year, my husband and our daughter ran it on a Sunday afternoon that felt more like February than April.

The race last year.

This year, we wanted to run it all together because more of us are fit and able. We took a practice run as a family a few Sundays ago, attempting 2 miles and that went well enough that we made the commitment to run the race. Our plan was to start together and let our kids tell us when they needed to walk and when they wanted to run.

About 15 minutes before the race this year

Race day was a perfectly beautiful spring day with temperatures close to the 70s. We were there to enjoy nature and each other’s company and to run/walk through the woods. 

We had said we would try to run the first mile all together and then branch off if needed, but the heat and humidity got the best of our daughter and she needed to walk after about 3/4 of a mile. My husband and our son kept going while I stayed with my daughter. We walked. And walked. And walked some more. And with every step, I was becoming a horribly selfish person in my head.

I hadn’t come to walk the race. I had come to run it, and I was frustrated that I couldn’t give it my best effort, even though I knew going in that I wasn’t going to come close to a personal best time or anything like that. I was also annoyed because my son seems to be a natural athlete. He hadn’t even trained for a 5K and he was talking about how he might win a medal for his age group. The male half of our party disappeared quickly ahead of us while I tried to strike a balance between compassion for my daughter’s aches and pains and encouragement to keep going. (She is 11 and I’m not always sure which complaints are genuine and which ones are overdramatized because of hormones and other changes.)

I can be a competitive person, and when older people walking dogs passed us, I had trouble keeping my frustration to myself. I did not want to wound my daughter emotionally by saying something I didn’t mean because I was wounded inside. The urge is hard to resist but I think I managed to keep my tone as neutral as possible.

We walked a good portion of the mile between 1 and 2, jogging a bit before we got to the water stop just before mile 2. I had my phone with me and was casually tracking the time. It was more than 25 minutes when we got to mile 2 and the battle in my head began again. Part of the reason I run is to challenge myself and to stretch what I think my limits are. I wasn’t feeling terribly stretched, and the more we walked the more I realized that my real reason for wanting to run this race was to prove that the last year of training and running had been worth something. Something tangible. With numbers.

At the very least, I wanted to come close to or beat my time from the Thanksgiving 5K. Especially since as far as running races goes, 2019 has been a disappointment.

It wasn’t looking good, and my daughter wouldn’t stop talking. I wanted to run, and I was “stuck” walking.

—

Less than a week earlier, our family was huddled together, a gusty wind at our back, sitting in lawn chairs in a field in the rural middle of our country watching lacrosse. Our son started playing this spring, and it is our first experience as parents with youth sports. (It is also our introduction to lacrosse. I still have a lot to learn.)

With youth sports, I have heard horror stories of demanding coaches and overbearing parents (not from this team or sport, but in general), and I have, in some ways, been dreading the competitive nature of youth sports. As I mentioned before, I am competitive and sometimes it presents as fierce loyalty. Think mama bear. (Or mama llama as I saw depicted in a meme recently: Typically chill but if you try to mess with my kids, I might spit or kick.)

That night, our son scored his first ever goal in a game. I have enjoyed watching him learn this sport and practice drills and try new things (like being goalie!) and make new friends. It is the kind of stretching activity I recommend for everyone and don’t do enough of myself. When he carried the lacrosse ball near the goal and shot and missed the first time, my disappointment was loud. I was not disappointed inhim but for him because he likes to do well at the things he does.

So when he got the ball right back and took a shot that WENT IN THE GOAL, Phil and I were ecstatic and tears pricked my eyes. I did not love my son more because he scored a goal and it is not my sole measure of his success, but I know what that meant to him. I was happy for him.

They lost the game, and I told him that you could play a great game and still lose. And that scoring a goal was not the only measure of whether he’d had a good game.

—

This is part of what I was thinking about as I ran through the woods. That, and I was looking for the cabin where my husband and I had stayed for a weekend to celebrate our fifth wedding anniversary. That was seven years ago now, but at the time, celebrating five years of marriage was a huge milestone. At the time, I wasn’t sure if we’d still be celebrating our tenth anniversary or beyond. This year, it will be 12 years, and I am still in awe of the journey.

The lane leading to the cabin looked familiar. I took a picture as my daughter and I walked, remembering that weekend and its importance to our marriage and our family. That weekend all those years ago was the reason we were running the 5K this year, in a long and winding road kind of way.

I was still feeling grumpy and frustrated by the way the race was turning out for us, and I kept trying to turn my thoughts in a different direction. Between miles and 2 and 3 we finally went back to running a little bit, and we could start to hear the cheering from the other side of the lake for those who had finished. I wondered if our guys had finished and what their time had been.

We walked over a bridge that had open slats. It freaked my daughter out to run across it. But we did run across the dam of the lake, then walked a bit more and started running again when the end was in sight. Our guys were there waiting for us to finish, yelling our names. We pushed to finish hard and fast as the clock ticked toward 42 minutes.

Forty. Two. Minutes. A full four minutes slower than my last 5K and my slowest 5K time in the history of my 5K running. (Okay, who’s being dramatic now?) I gave my husband a look that caused him concern but when I assured him I felt fine physically, he gave me a bit of space. We got water and a cookie and a banana and walked around. Our son reported their time to us: it was in the 35 minutes range. I tried to cool off, both my body and my thoughts. I needed to get out what I was feeling, but I didn’t want to say anything that would hurt my daughter’s feelings. 

Because how I was feeling wasn’t her fault.

I managed to tell him a few snippets of what I was feeling. I released some of the big feelings by focusing on the other runners. On nature. We watched a bald eagle soar over the treeline across the lake. I reminded myself that finishing a 5K is a major accomplishment no matter the time.

We had decided to stick around for the awards in a show of solidarity. Last year when the temperatures were too close to freezing to be comfortable, we stayed but were mostly miserable. This year, it was just an excuse to spend more time outside in the park. Our daughter’s age group came up first and when she realized she only missed the third place time by a couple of minutes, she smiled this huge smile: “I was so close!” Not for the first time, I wished I had her attitude.

The top times for some of the other female age groups disheartened me. I’ve seen the top times in several races and I don’t think I’ll ever get to that point. I’m just not a fast runner, and I certainly wasn’t for this race.

So when they called my age group, 40-44, and the first place finisher’s time was 40 minutes and some change, I’m sure the shock on my face was evident. And when the announcer called second place and I heard my first name followed by a jumbling of my last name (it’s not his fault), I received my medal with continued shock.

“Phil, how did that happen?” I said as I walked back toward our family.

“Good job, Mom!” the kids said.

Maybe I should have felt excited but mostly I felt terrible. Because I had spent the entire race whining internally about how I couldn’t give my best effort because my daughter needed me to stick with her, and in the end, I got a medal anyway. (My husband also placed second in his age group and his time was not nearly his best time, either. Why is the world so weird?)

#winning

—

“God has a sense of humor.”

I said this out loud as I looked at the medal, still shaking my head in disbelief. I don’t know always know what I believe about God’s involvement in our personal and daily activities but I had to wonder if He was watching me that whole time I was running with the kind of a grin that knows a secret but can’t tell yet.

Say what?

I got a medal just for showing up to the race. I could have walked the whole thing and still gotten a medal for my age group because there were only two awards given to females between the ages of 40 and 44 and I was the second of the two. For all the fun we as a society make of participation trophies and everyone winning, I have to admit that I felt special even knowing that it wasn’t my best effort that got me the award.

This, I think, is the lesson God is trying to get through to me right now.

I am an achiever. A high achiever. I want results, especially ones I can measure. I say I’m not a numbers person but I totally am when it comes to how successful I feel. I track my word counts daily and monthly so I can feel accomplished as a writer. (This is not a bad thing, per se, but quantity and quality are rarely the same thing.) I think that the more people who participate in something I’m leading means it’s more successful as a venture. Less people=less popular=less successful.

And I still believe that my best efforts will be rewarded. In school that meant if I studied enough and did all my homework, I would get As and that would mean I was successful. (I graduated second in my high school class. Ask me how that has helped me get further in life.) I have measured success by income and square footage. I still do sometimes.

It is a horrible way to live life.

Numbers don’t always tell the whole story, and they certainly aren’t the only markers for success.

Nor are they the only criteria for reward.

Can you imagine receiving an award just for showing up? It’s almost mind-boggling in our western work-hard culture. We don’t like it when people get rewarded for minimal effort. (People who heard Jesus speak didn’t like it much either. See the parable of the workers in the vineyard.)

—

What does it mean to be successful?

I don’t have a clue anymore. Sometimes it means showing up. Sometimes it means giving your best effort. Sometimes it means winning. Sometimes it makes no sense at all.

I’m still shaking my head, laughing at the ridiculousness of it all while also feeling a small amount of pride that I can say I won a medal for a second place finish in a 5K.

Maybe success is whatever you want it to be, despite what others say.