Ode to my Trainer

One of the primary reasons I finally broke down, admitted I needed help and had this surgery was that I wanted to be healthy. I wanted to be mobile. No longer living in fear of having to walk somewhere, or stand for a while. I wanted to be able to play with my nieces and nephews. Go for walks. Live a "normal" life...not the size-edited version of a life I'd been living for so long.

Part of my success, I knew, would be finding a personal trainer. I've worked with a couple of them in the past, and the truth of the matter is - I need one. I am not one to stretch out of my comfort zone. I don't try things to see if I can do them. I don't push myself.

Today Facebook let me know it was my 1-year anniversary of friendship with Scott Sutherlin.

Around Thanksgiving last year, I started working with my trainer Scott. My sister's sister-in-law went to his bootcamp classes, and she had really good things to say about him. He was right in my town, so that was convenient. At our first meeting, I just knew we'd work. He's worked with overweight people - and by overweight I mean well over 20 pounds to lose - and has not only helped them shed the weight, but keep it off. Weight-loss surgery patients were nothing new to him. He didn't see like one to take any shit, which I can appreciate. I still remember that first meeting like it was yesterday - - He made me stand during the entire thing. It was likely less than 30 minutes - but I was starting to sweat, and my knees hurt - - typical things for me.

I met with him a few times a week. It started so slowly, and so simply - which is exactly what 495# Natalie needed. He had me walk - at whatever pace I could - for 15 minutes. Small circles around the gym. I still remember how fucking hard it was to walk for 15 minutes!!! I was so grateful to be able to sit down when I finished. He worked in a bit of weight-training - - but the goal was movement. I hadn't been doing anything for so long, that that alone felt like something major.

As I dropped a few pounds prior to my pre-surgery liquid diet, we worked up to some tougher things - flipping tires, more weights - but for the most part it was walking. He'd keep me entertained with his stories while I walked in circles. The boredom he must have experienced watching me walk in circles for what ended up being close to 30 minutes - - I cannot imagine. But he did it, because at the time that is what I needed.

I was gone for about 2 months between the liquid diet (no energy at all), my surgery and recovery. When I came back we eased into it. He knew enough to start slow - see what my body was able to do, and where it's limits were. There have been a few days where I was just run down - where I hadn't eaten enough in the days before - and he knew I needed rest, and allowed me to do that. I cannot speak enough to the importance of working with someone who has the knowledge, and experience, to continually put your best-interests first.

So we got back to our 3 sessions a week. Easing in at first - I still had fairly new incisions on my stomach, and I'd still get woozy/light-headed fairly often because I wasn't eating much at the time - and was ingesting no carbs. Scott was patient, but firm. He wasn't going to let me off easy - but he also wasn't going to push me into something that would cause me harm.

I can't remember when the switch was exactly - but suddenly he knew I was ready. I was able to do more than we'd been doing. Everything was kicked up a notch. It was time to test out this new bod, and see what it could do. I had slightly move mobility than I'd had before, and he was going to use it. There are multiple times per session where doubt creeps in. He asks me to do something, and I start mentally calculating the levels to which I will fail. But you know what -- I don't fail. He hasn't asked me to do one thing that I physically can't do. Mentally - it might take me a minute to get my body to cooperate. But he keeps saying he'll never ask me to do anything I can't do - - and he's right. Hopefully one of these days I'll start to believe him right away.

no good comes from the agility ladder

And here's the truth - - I do not like our sessions. I wish I could tell you I love it, and every second of our time together is magical - but I can't. I have to keep telling myself "it's only an hour. It's only an hour. It's only an hour" my entire way to the gym. It's fucking hard. But when it's done, I feel pretty damn fantastic! I'm cranky, and I'm surly  and I'm bitchy - and yet he tolerates me. He doesn't lose his patience. He doesn't scream. He basically just tells me to STFU and do it. And then I do. And then I'm amazed by what I can do. Today he hauled out the agility ladder. My eyes immediately started to roll, and I asked him if he was aware that "agility" and my body were mutually exclusive. He was not. And he made me do it anyway. And I was awful sometimes, and sometimes I was ok. But I could do it. (I'm still somewhat in awe)

From the outside, we may appear to have the most dysfunctional relationship - he is constantly making me do things I don't want to do, and I'm forever being mean to him. But if you look closer - you see he's the best kind of friend - - he knows what I'm capable of, and continually pushes me.

I know without him, I wouldn't be where I am today. Sure - I would have lost weight...I have a hammock, after all. But I wouldn't have lost as much as I have - and my body wouldn't have transformed as much as it has, if it wasn't for Scott. I am so grateful to be able to work with him. I am so grateful he takes the time to work with me, until I'm ready to join the group classes. I am so grateful that he shows me on a daily basis that I am able to do things I'm certain I cannot. I'm grateful that he pushes me, even when I swear at him and give him one of my less-than-loving looks. I am grateful.

Happy 1 year friend-iversary Scott. I appreciate you so much, even when all I do is act the opposite. Here's to many more...you poor guy! =) You might never get rid of me....

Scott & I, post-workout in his torture chamber

State of the FUPA: Volume 1

A lot has been happening the last few days. Mostly good, which is more than welcome by me at this point. 

I've remained in my funk from the end of last week through the weekend and the beginning of this week. Irritated, frustrated, demoralized and cranky. Not feeling like the scale was reflecting what I've been doing. Not feeling like the joints on the lower half of my body are cooperating with me - and allowing me to do what I'd like to be doing in a somewhat pain-free way. I've been a mess. 

I woke up Friday morning feeling like someone was taking a chisel to the inside of my left knee. Every step - every time I put weight on that leg - pain. Sharp pain. The kind that really gets old after 6 days straight of it. I took it easy that morning and later I met with a lady in the psychology division of the bariatric surgery department. The good news was that I was found sane enough for surgery, and given approval to proceed. Victory.

I received a call on Monday to finally get my appointment scheduled with the surgeon. This is just my pre-surgery consultation - but I should be getting my surgery date soon! On Wednesday March 2nd I'll be having an ultrasound done on my gall bladder, a meeting with a nurse and then meeting the surgeon! Hopefully they will decide a date for my surgery. Then I meet with the dietitian Friday, March 11th to get my pre and post surgery diet guidelines. We're making move, people!

As excited as I was to finally be moving forward, and in some fairly major ways, I was still just salty as hell when I went to my appointment with Scott this morning. That poor guy. I am certain he finds me to be one of the crankiest individuals on the planet, and I can't say what he's experienced has been anything but. Unfortunately for him, he ends up being my shrink as well. But that actually ended up being a good thing today. We spent my walk chatting, and I realized I hadn't explained my full situation to him very well. I think we've got things cleared up now - and he's working on a new plan for me to help get some of this weight off quicker, to hopefully help alleviate some joint pain - and ultimately get me closer to my surgery date. 

When I initially told him about my pre-surgery weight-loss goal, I'd unknowingly left some fairly pertinent information out. Yes - I'm certain part of the reason they want me to lose some weight prior to my surgery is to prove I'm capable of making good choices. (I am still fast food, soda and *mostly* sweet free since February 2nd. That includes NO Cheetos!!) But the major reason for my weight loss prior to surgery is for my safety. The more you weigh, the more dangerous surgery/being put under is. The sad thing is that even for a procedure designed for overweight people, I'm still on the very heavy end of the spectrum. The more weight I lose on my own means the less days I spend on the liquid diet. They want me to have lost about 70 pounds by the time I have my surgery. I'm currently at about 37. Good, but not great. 

Now that he is understanding the full picture, Scott is devising a plan. I'm going to be doing some sort of cleanse next week. High nutrients, lower calories. Yes - I want that to get me closer to my surgery goal weight, but I am the most hopeful that it will help with my damn knees! I'm so sick of being in pain all the time! I want to be able to push myself in my sessions with Scott. I want to make the most of my time prior to surgery to make some headway in getting myself stronger. But when every movement is painful, it just gets really demoralizing! My self-talks - basically just repeatedly telling myself to get the hell over it - aren't working. So hoping shedding some more weight will get me over the hump to where my body can cooperate with me a little bit. I suspect a pain-free body will result in a happier Natalie, which will make the life of all those forced to deal with me just a little bit easier. =)

Well - that is where I am at for now. I meet with Scott Friday to put together the plan for cleanse week next week. I'm honestly kind of excited. I could use some accelerated movement in the right direction. My emotional well-being needs it. My knees and hips need it. My disposition needs it. It's time to kick it up a notch. 

My Biggest Hurdle: My Own Brain

Today's session with Scott was bad. Really bad. Not due to anything he said, did or asked of me. It was 100% on me.

It's been a long week. Work stuff has just completely worn me out. I'm trying to eat better, but I know I probably didn't get enough to eat yesterday (my pre-prepped meals ran out on Wednesday....I'm still trying to get myself organized in that department) - which Scott has repeatedly warned me is a problem. I walked into the gym feeling drained - physically and even more so emotionally. It was a recipe for disaster. And it was a disaster.

I did my walk while we chatted. Don't get me wrong - I still don't love my walks - but they've become much more tolerable. But today I just kept looking at my Fitbit praying for it to be over. While I was finishing up, Scott starting putting together the equipment for the next phase of my workout. "Shit. Shit. SHIT." was all that was going through my head as I realized it was going to be a lower body day. Lower body days are the worst...I have to haul all of this bulk along with me for all of the exercises. I'm hopeful one day that will be much easier than it is now - but for the time being, it is awful. A very necessary evil, I know....

So damn true.....

So I made up my mind before I even started that it was going to suck. Then Scott told me the duration I needed to do each station. That was it. My brain had already decided I couldn't do it. Well - truthfully, my fear decided I couldn't do it, and quickly got my brain onboard. And how do I react to fear, feeling uncomfortable and insecure? That's right - by being a raging bitch. I instantly turned into a petulant child. I was so sure I couldn't do it before I started that I didn't even give myself a chance to try.

Instead of just doing the best that I could - and listening to Scott's direction - I pouted, gave half-assed effort and smarted off to him. I behaved horribly. To his credit, he didn't tell me to get the hell out of the gym and never come back. I suspect I may have done that if I had been in his shoes.

I went to Scott because I need someone to push me. I trust him. I know he knows what he's doing. I obviously do not, or I wouldn't be in my current situation - - so where does my brain get off thinking it knows best? I made him aware of what my goals were, and asked him to help me. I told him I'd do what he asked me to do. He is more than living up to his end of the deal. I am the one who is not.

This is about enough of that shit. I am looking forward to so many positive changes, I should probably start with my attitude. So this is what I'm going to do. I'm going to fight my inner bitch. She is ruled by fear, and I no longer need her to protect me. I'm going to prove to myself that I can do things my fear immediately tells me I can't. I'm going to get mentally tough. I'm going to do the things Scott asks me to do. I'm going to do them as well as I can. And I'm going to keep my mouth shut. And in the event that I forget, I'm going to ask him to please remind me to tell my inner bitch to shut the hell up and get to work. Because that hag is not going to keep me from living my best life.

It's time to toughen up buttercup. Physically, and most importantly - mentally.

All the Feels

Over the last couple of months I've been going through a few changes - - most notably, I've started exercising on a regular basis. While that  has been hard and painful and exhausting - it has also given me something I feel like I hadn't had a good long time - a sense of accomplishment. Seeing what my body can do after just a couple of months of activity - even though my weight is still much higher than I'd like - makes me feel like I'm doing something. I'm being proactive. I'm changing for the better.

Over the last month I've witnessed another difference in myself - - I'm really emotional! I get teary-eyed at the drop of a hat! I've always been one that will cry at sad movies. Get a little misty during those commercials meant to pull at our heart strings. I shed a tear that the beginning of "Up" - but who didn't?!?! But I've never been so on the cusp of tears for such an extended period of time! It would take next to nothing for me get weepy. Real tears!

So I did what I normally do when I don't like something - I pretended it didn't exist. I just figured I was PMSing or something. But a month of PMS seems excessive. So then I thought maybe I was starting "the change". I mean - I am 40 now. Maybe I could be starting menopause? And since I'm trying to behave myself so I can get to my pre-surgery weight loss goal, I didn't get to do what I normally do when I start to feel things - - shovel Cheetos into my face.

This was all very new to me - and I will admit - completely unsettling. I am just not used to this! I'm typically not an overly emotional person - or at least I don't think I am. My fastest go-to emotion is to get angry if anything - so this new sensitivity was really unsettling! And with every instance of my new-found tenderness came frustration. What in the hell is making me so damn emotionally delicate!??!!?

I think this partially played into my going rogue for a week from the gym - I was just completely emotionally beat. I felt like I could have slept 20 hours a day if I would have allowed myself to. I just didn't feel like doing anything. I didn't feel sad. I just felt wiped out. I like to try and self-diagnose - so in addition to PMS or menopause - I thought maybe I was having an acute case of SAD (seasonal affective disorder) because it was absolutely freezing here in Minnesota. But to Scott's credit - he didn't just let me skip and tell me it was ok. He told me to get my shit together and get back to the gym. Exactly what I asked him to do, and exactly what I needed.

My sis Wendy sent me this after our chat. I love it.

On Sunday I was chatting with my sisters and had a full on psychotic break. In public. At a restaurant. Crying. Seriously crying. That was a first. To their credit - they didn't look at me in absolute horror. My sisters are seriously the greatest. Both of them offered up many possibilities for the cause and were very supportive. They both agreed it likely had something to do with the changes I'd been making - especially the physical ones - being more active, etc. I didn't know that was a thing - so just sort of dismissed it, and assumed I was losing my mind. When I got home I watched "Terms of Endearment", thinking I just needed a good cry - - and boy did I cry. Sobs. I did feel somewhat better after...

Monday I met with Scott. I did my walk and then we were chatting a bit. I confessed to him that I was feeling more than a little bit like an emotional nutball lately. Without me mentioning my sisters' theory - he concurred. He told me that physical demands on your body tend to manifest themselves with heightened emotions. Maybe that is why everyone cries so much on shows like the Biggest Loser? They are really pushing themselves physically - and I'm sure there isn't a cheeto in sight!

This revelation did make me feel somewhat better about my new sensitive state. It could be tied back to something positive I'm doing for myself. Getting stronger allows me to be more tender? Maybe? I guess I could probably use a little move touchy feely-ness. Not to worry - I'm sure I'll still maintain sarcastic, a-hole side...that's not going anywhere.

So Monday I will be taking my newly tender self to my appointment with my nutritionist where I will hopefully be cleared for surgery by her department/division, and will have lost the amount of weight necessary to get an appointment with the surgeon. Fingers crossed, people.

At least I know I have tears at my disposal if she doesn't cooperate with me... 

back to it.....

I realized this week, that regardless of how slowly I may be moving - I have made some positive changes. There have been many times in my adult life where I have gone months between workouts, and it didn't phase me in the least. Sure...I would feel small pangs of guilt over the fact that I was just paying my fat tax (see: gym membership) and never using it - but that was about it.

I finally felt like the Remus got his gigantic ass off my chest enough to go the gym on Wednesday. I don't know if I have ever been so happy to be active in my life. There was still a fair amount of hacking to be done while I was there - but I tried to be as courteous as I could, and just cough into my arm. I didn't "fake cough" and then do the gagging face like the guy I had seen at the WAC do. Hopefully it wasn't frequent enough, or annoying enough, for anyone to want to come over and kick me (literally) off my machine.

I did the same on Thursday, with basically the same result. Some hacking, and a lot of bliss. I was just happy to be out of the house, and doing something that is good for me! Granted, I've been following that up with eating like crap - but I'll turn that around here soon, too. I can tell I'm not completely back. I still get winded easier than I did before - but I am able to move at a pretty good pace (for me), so I'm content. I think the thing that has me the most excited about being back at the gym is that I am now able to watch the last few episodes of "Sons of Anarchy" on my iPod. I put the last 4 episodes of season 3 on there with the understanding that I couldn't watch them unless I was doing cardio. It is a trick I have to play on myself, and it seems to be working here. I am down to the last episode, and will watch that Friday while I do the elliptical.

So I'm finally feeling better - but know I am not 100% back to normal. When I am finally over this crap I will never again undervalue the ability to breathe easy. I will appreciate it.

Do any of you have to give yourself workout incentives? I'd love to hear about it.....