New Year’s Resolution Renewal: Stay Trim and Fit

Although I’d had a few times in my adult life when I gained an uncomfortable amount of weight–perhaps 10 to 15 pounds, which I quickly lost—I was never even close to being grossly overweight until I reached my late thirties. 

For about five years, from age 35 to 40, I underwent extensive infertility treatment.  I never got a baby, but I did get fat.  The combination of strong drugs, lack of exercise, and depression resulted in a weight gain of over 45 pounds, from a trim 120 to a peak of 168!  I hated my body, because it had let me down in so many ways.  I ate for comfort; food was almost my sole form of physical pleasure.   I had been a casual runner for years, for fitness and health, but my doctor advised me to stop all strenuous aerobic exercise during my treatment period, for fear I would jar any tenuous development of a blastocyst or an embryo. 

When I reached 40, we decided to stop treatments.  My then-husband threw me a surprise birthday party, and the photos of that milestone were shocking.  “Who is that fat woman?” I asked myself, with the horrifying realization that it was ME.

I set up an appointment with my doctor to discuss weight-loss strategies.  Knowing how motivated I was, he suggested I bike to work every day.  EVERY DAY?  OK, I’m game.  Whatever it takes.   

During the first four months, I lost over 30 pounds.  I was obsessive.  I commuted to work by bicycle every day, riding 10 hours and over 125 miles a week and limiting my calorie intake to 1300 a day.  I refused to take a day off, even when we were besieged by two weeks of Santa Ana winds and 90+ degree temperatures.  As a result, I severely strained my knees and couldn’t even walk.  My doctor suggested I change my activity to give my knees a break from the repetitive circular motion that had injured them.  He suggested running.

I wasn’t savvy enough then to realize that running burns more calories than biking.  I thought I had to run the same number of hours I’d cycled. So, in order to sustain the same aerobic and calorie-burning volume as I had while biking, I thought I had to run far.  I mean, very far. Like, 8-10 miles a day, five times a week, at least.  So I did. 

I LOVED it.  I had finally found my sport.  After a few months of doing what I thought then was an insane amount of mileage (40-50 miles per week), I said to myself, “I bet I could run a marathon.”  So I did. 

That was ten years ago.  Since then, I’ve run 15 marathons and countless shorter races.  Last year, at age 50, I ran my personal best marathon time of 3 hours, 16 minutes.  This year I was 22 seconds shy of my PR, and a year older.  I love being strong and fit as an “older” woman.  If this is cronedom, bring it on.

My relationship with food has changed dramatically since the old, sad days of eating two Egg McMuffins (with hash browns!) to fill a void in my spirit and soul.  Now, I see food as pleasure AND fuel.  I never eat for consolation; instead, I’ll run, bike or take a walk as a stress reliever.  I’ve managed to keep my weight off for over 10 years, mostly through strenuous exercise and monitoring my calorie intake.  People think I can eat anything I want because I run 50-60 miles a week.  Not true.  As my mileage increases, so does my appetite, (and genuine need for calories), and I still have to watch my intake.  If I’m not careful, I’ll gain a few pounds over a holiday break or vacation.  I’m very disciplined about taking it off, because extra weight can obliterate a competitive edge.

I’ve gone the other way, too—losing too much weight during the emotional stress of my divorce.  I got faster for a while when my solar plexus was sticking out and my face was gaunt, but had I sustained those unhealthy eating patterns—skipping breakfast and lunch, cramming down thin ham slices wrapped around cheese for dinner, just to get some food in me—I knew I’d crash.  Happily, the starvation period was temporary, I regained my emotional and physical balance, and I’m fitter and faster then ever.  Interestingly, at 121, I’m faster than I was at 116, which is what I (even still) consider my” ideal” weight.  Once you’ve been fat, the fear of corpulence never, ever leaves.

I hated the way the world treated me as a fat, middle-aged woman; it just doesn’t SEE you.  I loathed my fashionable but flowing clothes.  I detested feeling weak and unattractive instead of strong and sexy. Over ten years later, I am still driven by the memory of how awful it was—a powerful tool.   

Perhaps my case isn’t representative as a learning tool for most people, because my weight gain was anomalous.  I was a fit and healthy eater for most of my life, and then had a five-year diversion into sedentary habits and dysfunctional eating.  When I lost the weight, it was like a homecoming, and as such, probably much easier to achieve and maintain than for those who have never been fit.   But probably like most people who have lost significant body weight and maintained it, for me, the cost/benefit factor is paramount as a motivator.  Being fat was painfully dispiriting, physically uncomfortable.  Being fit and strong is empowering, inspiring, joyful.

I’ll never go back.