Functional Hibernation

I have been struggling for the last couple of weeks, trying to get my life-rhythm back.

This winter has been colder than normal, snowier than normal and downright more miserable than normal and I, in turn have also been more miserable than normal. So, for whatever reason, this winter has been very hard on me.

My “Coping Strategy” for dealing with this most miserable of seasons was to adopt what I called “function hibernation”; which meant I did as little as I needed to do, going outside as little as possible.

I would go to work, get groceries and pretty much everything else was classified as “non-essential” and therefore did not need to be done until the weather warmed up. The problem was, the weather took forever to warm up.

I managed to convince myself that this was an excellent approach to winter. I wasn’t hibernating as I didn’t skip workouts, I just did them either on the treadmill in the fitness room in my apartment building, or on my bike which I had set up on its trainer in my bedroom. The problem was, I had very little human interaction having swapped the camaraderie of my spin group for the “efficiency” of just staying home. I reasoned that the decreased travel time would give me more time thereby allowing me to do longer spins at home than I would do at spin class. However, not having to go to class ultimately meant that I didn’t have to start my spin at any given time after work and workout times began to slip later and later into the evening leaving me with less and less time to do the actual spin.

But I was functioning. I wasn’t hibernating.

I resented having to dress in five layers and still feel cold. I hated trying to drive whilst bundled from head to toe. I hated the narrow roads and the poor traction and visibility.

I could go weeks without having to drive my car. Most weekends C was available to go grocery shopping with me and he would drive. Since I wasn’t going to spin and I could take the LRT to work, I didn’t need to drive during the week.

It was perfect.

…except for the fact that I began to feel like a shut-in.

…and I felt trapped.

…and I missed the outdoors.

But I wasn’t hibernating. I was functioning.

I got used to doing little with my evenings and weekends; having relegated most of my “running around” until such a time as the “weather improved”.

The problem is, the weather has improved – it is still not stellar, it’s colder than normal and it is still more snowy than normal, but it’s not so cold as to freeze the air in your lungs if you happen to be unlucky enough to want to take a deep breath whilst outside; but it has improved – but my momentum hasn’t returned.

I can’t seem to break out of my winter inertia.

Instead of being inspired by the warmer weather I am overwhelmed by the number of things I have “set aside” for better days.

I look at my list then look at my couch and my book sitting next to it and think, “these things have waited for a couple of months, what’s another week?”

I am not hibernating. I am not functioning.

I am avoiding.

…and if I don’t want to fall into a void, I will need to break free of this inertia and start to make things happen.

Winter is over, functional hibernation is over.

As the ruts melt from the road, it is time to get out of my own motivational ruts.

It is time for some Spring Cleaning of the attitude and energies.

Spring is here!

Yardsticks and Hand Grenades

I suddenly tuned into the lyrics of the song:

“I will fight for one last breath
I will fight until the end
And I will find the enemy within
Because I can feel it crawl beneath my skin
Dear Agony
Just let go of me
Suffer slowly
Is this the way it's got to be?”

“Fitting.” I thought, sulkily, as I sat on my bike in the dark forcing my legs to turn the pedals, I was sweating profusely, breathing hard and just wanted the workout to be over.

I was angry, frustrated and disillusioned. I was at war, a war I was just beginning to realize I was waging against an enemy I was just beginning to admit I had.

“And I will find the enemy within”

The anger, frustration and disillusionment came from my deep desire to lose weight and my amazing ability to seemingly sabotage myself at every opportunity.

Why was I so completely at odds with myself – how can someone so smart be so stupid?

It was early, really early and it was dark – as dark as my mood.

I’d been on the bike 90 minutes already, and it wasn’t even 0630hrs. I didn’t see it as dedication, I saw it as the ramifications to having skipped the spin the night before – bargaining with myself at the time that I was tired and I could just get up and do it “tomorrow”.

Well, “tomorrow” had arrived, with a vengeance.

But the vengeance was mine, and the target was my lazy self.

I had made the mistake of getting on the scale Tuesday morning to find my weight up, way up and I could think of no reasonable explanation for this. I had been holding steady for a number of weeks hovering on the cusp of dropping through a milestone number.

Milestones are funny things. Like retailers marketing something for $11.99 rather than $12.00; weighing 129 pounds rather than 130, or 139 instead of 140 just seems better. Weighing the “Nine” rather than the neighbouring “Zero” is something I think most women would strive for (maybe even some men).

In the grand scheme of things, just like it’s only a cent, the difference between weighing 139 or 140 on a scale isn’t a large amount – it could be as little as having a small glass of water extra sloshing about in your stomach. The point it, it looks better. Funnily enough, this thought just popped into my mind…in weight loss, optics is everything.

There is some psychological satisfaction of being 139.75 pounds rather than 140.00.

But really my problem that Tuesday morning was I was not quibbling over a quarter pound – I had somehow wandered vaulted away from being a pound away from the highly prized Next-Level-Down to being halfway towards the next level Up.

I know if have fought with my scale before but since I do use it as one of the ways I gauge my progress it frustrates me that it is such an un-reliable beast. I know there are other gauges, other yardsticks that I can measure my success against – unfortunately I choose, more often than not, to hop on the scale and slink back off again dejected and frustrated.

But it’s when I lose sight of the fact that this IS JUST ONE TOOL (and not the best) and then turn my frustration and dejection into an excuse to bring out the self-sabotage weaponry that I really get upset.

That’s why I was cycling with a vengeance; lights off (psychologically I think it is cooler without the light on in the room) three flashlights lighting up key spots: the back cog set (so I know what gear I’m in), the bike computer and workout sheet on my handlebars and the countdown timer on the table next to the handlebars. These three small points of light creating a mini-constellation in the shape of a “Y”.

Why indeed.

I knew why I was riding hard, in some non-religious penitence or self-flagellation. I knew the “damage” I’d done was more than just delaying the workout. It was skipping the Tuesday night workout and replacing it with all the dietary hand grenades I could find. Doubling or tripling the amount of calories I should have consumed.

And yet I did it.

Why did I, when faced with a small setback that might not even be an ACTUAL setback, just a temporary glitch in the measuring equipment, why then did I, pull the pin on the two biggest hand grenades in my arsenal – buying chocolate and skipping a workout.

Somehow, at the time, I could rationalise the purchase and rationalise the skipping of the workout. But now, the morning after, feeling the junk-food hangover and all the guilt I question my very sanity.

Why did I do it? How can I have such a dichotomous mind? Why, instead of getting angry and saying – “right scale, I’ll show you! I’m going to work twice as hard this week and you will register a loss next week.” Albeit no more sensible but in some ways far less self-destructive (if not all that much better for my mental health).
Why, instead redoubling my efforts, do I throw up my arms in defeat and turn to food and laziness.

I don’t know the answer. I don’t know why I have such a Jekyll & Hyde approach to my current weight loss efforts. I don’t know why a perfectly reasonable, sensible, intelligent and rational human being becomes a roiling mass of emotions and self-loathing at the slightest setback on the yardstick, grabbing for the hand grenades only to see sense the next day after the damage has been done.

“Is this the way it's got to be?”

I know the answer to that question is “no”.

I can change. I can improve. If I can find a way to recognise the signs of Jekyll and stay Hyde, forget the hand grenades and accept the yardstick.

It won’t be easy, it won’t be fast, but getting this far with the weight loss has been neither fast nor easy – so I should be used to the pace and the hard work. I need to remember to be patient – just breathe – as my psychiatrist would advise.

Just maybe this self-abasement; this voluntary confession will help me stay honest with my self and on-track with where I want to go. Maybe this is my first "breath".

I want to be a happier and healthier me – and that’s not all about the weight, but it is somewhat about the wait.