I will never be described as a patient person. I like to think I have some nice qualities, but alas, patience is not one of them. What little patience I manage to muster in my dealings with other people, I have absolutely zero with myself. This is not a new thing. Even as a little girl, if I tried something new, and couldn’t get to grips with it straight away, I would get frustrated and usually quit. Roller skates were tried out exactly once, (sorry mom) sports and instruments were usually abandoned within weeks. I just wanted to know how to do the thing, I wasn’t overly interested in the process of learning! As I have gotten older, my staying power may have increased, but frustration and sense of urgency has definitely not abated.
For about the past 6 months or so, I have been a kilo or two away from my goal weight. My goal is to be below 59kg (yes, 58.9kg will do) This number may seem arbitrary, but it holds great significance to me. Should I ever reach it, I will share the reason for this with you. Just before my trip to Madrid in May, I was the closest I have ever been. One of my weigh ins was 59kg on the button. I was as close as is humanly possible to be, without actually achieving it.
Then I went on my trip, and put on a little weight. This was to be expected and I was totally fine with it. I had had an absolute blast with one of my favourite people, eating and drinking with abandon. I would never accept a life where I couldn’t have weekends like this from time to time. When I got back, I assumed I would slip into my routine and within a week or two things would be back to normal. Not so. Work got busy and crazy. I was travelling a lot and it just seemed like it took me forever to get my momentum going again.
Finally, about a month ago, things started coming together. I was hitting the gym regularly, eating well, and walking the legs off myself and my poor dog. I had even replaced my bedroom curtains with black out ones, and removed the electronics from the room to make sure I was getting better quality sleep. For three consecutive weeks, I was exactly on plan. This isn’t to say that everything was “perfect” because let’s face it, that doesn’t exist, but for those three weeks, I felt like I was definitely doing enough to get results.
Can you guess what happened during these weeks? Absolutely NOTHING!!!! The scale did not move at all. Not one tenth of a kilo did I lose. I really started to wonder what was going on. I know rationally that the scales does not tell the whole story. I also know that sometimes there can be a lag between putting in the work and getting the results, but COME ON! I was working my ass off and getting nowhere. I was just at the point of saying “screw this” and ordering an extra large pizza when I stood on the scales, and as if by magic, I was down over a kilo!
That was last week, and to be honest, if I had written this post then it would have been a different article entirely. Last week, I was thinking “finally, I have this sussed, 58kg, you will be mine!” This week, however, I have picked a shoulder injury. Ironically, I think it was caused by excessive dog walking! It’s nothing major, but I can’t train and it all feels like a bit of a cosmic conspiracy. Damn it, I am so close, and I feel between one thing and the other I will never get there.
I am finding myself reminded of all the old adages. Remembering all the great sporting movies, with their motivational montages. I am reflecting on the cautionary tales of people who didn’t know how close they were to success when they finally quit. Stories of people perishing in the desert, mere meters away from water. I know my few hundred grams pale into insignificance when compared with the struggles some people go through on a daily basis. But, truthfully, it has become about so much more than the scale weight. This is something I cannot quit. This battle has been on going for years. Were I to walk away from it now, I know that it would haunt me. I need this to be the one thing, the first thing, that although it didn’t come easy, I didn’t walk away from.
This morning, I weighed in at 60.2kg. I have a bit to go still, and if the last few months are anything to go by, it may take a while. The intensity will wax and wane as life carries on, and the results will of course, not be linear. However, if I can finally master the art of patience, I will eventually reach the finish line. With or without the roller skates!
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