At the end of my previous post, I mentioned that Fate has a funny way of stepping in when you least expect it.  I have always believed that things happen for a reason and they happen when we need them, or need to learn from them.  Sometimes good, sometimes bad, but all lessons to be learned.

So as Fate would have it, about 2 weeks before my appointment, I received a postcard in the mail from an area clinic that was starting a 16 week women’s health & weight loss study.  They were looking for participants.  The study included sessions with nutritionists, personal trainers and other health care professionals.  I was familiar with the group sponsoring the study and verified it was legitimate.  Since I needed doctor approval to participate, I took the card with me to my next appointment.

When I stepped on the scale at the doctor’s office it read 190.  Six pounds lost.  I had exceeded my goal by one pound.  This was a good start.  I discussed the program with my doctor.  He was delighted I made the decision to give it a try and gladly signed off on the program.   He said he would see me again in 6 months.

The program didn’t start for 4 more weeks and I continued doing what I was doing.  Eating less and walking more.  I had increased my steps to an average of 8,000-9,000 a day.

My starting stats were:  weight - 188; body fat - 36.6%; BMI - 32.3.  At 5′ 4″, this qualified me as Obese.  Not just overweight, but clinically obese.  I knew I was overweight, but I wasn’t prepared to think of myself as obese.  I had always thought of obesity as being 100 or more pounds overweight.  This was certainly a reality check for me.

My other health stats included: blood pressure 126/88 (the highest reading I ever had); total cholesterol 196; resting heart rate 76.  I also barely survived the step test.  I was so winded I thought I’d never catch my breath.  Maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t up for this.

At my first weekly session, I met with a trainer and worked out an exercise program.  I chose to walk 20 minutes, 3 times a week.  The trainer also helped me plan a weight training program of 10 exercises using both machines and free weights.  I did this twice a week on two of the three days I was walking.  He explained this was the minimum.

The second week session was with the nutritionist.  Most of what she explained was information I had heard before…eat smaller meals more frequently, limit sugar and carbs, eat more fruits and vegetables.  I was already following a similar diet on my own, so I didn’t find this part of the program especially helpful.  I did, however, begin a food log.

The third week session was with a physical therapist.  She covered a lot about form when exercising, focusing on different muscles and ways to avoid injury.  I really liked her and found the information very helpful.

And so it continued over the 16 week program.  The first four weeks we were required to meet as a group, but after that, the group sessions were optional.  The only weekly requirements were our weigh-ins and a mid-program recheck.

The weigh-ins were a mixed bag.  Some weeks only .2 pounds, other weeks .75 pounds and still others…nothing.  I only had 1 week where I lost more than one pound, and it was 1.2 pounds.  At least I never gained during the 16 weeks.  At the end, I weighted in at 180 pounds.  An eight pound loss over 16 weeks…half a pound per week average.  I’ll admit it, I was disappointed.

I was surprised when they invited me for the second phase of the study.  I really didn’t think I had accomplished enough to qualify.  Nonetheless, I had apparently done something they were looking for so I agreed to a second 16 week series.

At my next doctor appointment, I received some very interesting news.  First, my doctor was pleased with my weight loss.  He reminded me it was really 16 pounds…not 8 pounds.  Furthermore, my blood pressure, cholesterol and resting heart rate were all down.

But, he wasn’t done.  He pulled out a chart and showed me how my mobility had been declining over the previous three years.  At this visit, for the first time in three years, I had started to not just stop the trend, but begin to reverse it.  He could actually document the fact that I had actually regained some mobility.

I was amazed.  I asked what made the difference.  He explained that all of it mattered.  Watching what I was eating, loosing weight and the exercise.  Still, he believed, it was the small amount of weight training that helped me turn the corner.  Weight bearing exercise was strengthening the muscles around the joints and relieving stress at the joints.

I continued with the program for the remaining weeks of the second 16 week session.  I did just a little better that second time, I lost 12 more pounds.  At the end I weighed 168.  At the doctor’s office, my numbers continued to improve and, more importantly, my mobility continued to improve as well.

In my next post, I will bring you up to date with where I am today.

Along the way I learned that small changes can make big differences. Let me tell you my story.

Growing up, I was a normal weight child. Not too heavy, not too skinny. I wasn’t athletic, but I didn’t sit around either. I was active. I stayed a normal weight all throughout high school. In college, I gained the classic “freshman 15″ and it stuck with me pretty much all the way through my junior year. [Ok, now my junior year wasn't the usual three years after high school. I was working to "pay my own way" so it took me 8 years to get my degree...so this was about year six after high school].

While working and going to school, a friend talked me into joining a women’s health club. In fairly short order, I knocked off the 15 pounds and joined the fitness craze of the 1980’s. I held my weight at 125 pounds for the next 10 years.

Over the next 5 years, I would gain a little, lose a little, gain a little, lose a little…yep, though I didn’t realize it at the time, I was starting to yo-yo diet. Add to that the stresses of life, you know, job stress, family stress - oh, and lack of exercise, and poor diet…I started to gain. And gain. And gain.

Eventually I would find myself knocking on the door of 200 pounds. I don’t know if I ever opened that door and crossed that line. You see, somewhere around 190, I stopped weighing myself. That was close enough for me. At some point I probably did go over 200, but knowing I was close, I started trying to lose some of the weight. During this time I also started developing health problems. Rheumatoid arthritis, gall stones and an esophageal pre-cancer. I had surgery for the gall stones and pre-cancer. I chalked it up to getting older.

My “revelation” came in the oddest of ways. About four years ago, I was traveling for business and had committed myself to exercising during a three week assignment. I even packed my tapes and bands. I exercised exactly once.

On that trip and during a group social, a younger co-worker was telling a story and when he needed to describe the women in the story, he suddenly became tongue-tied.

He carefully searched for just the right words and eventually described her as “a middle-aged woman who had let herself go.” As fate would have it, our eyes met just as he said those words. It wasn’t at all like he [my co-worker] was speaking to me…no it was more like HE was speaking to me. That night I seriously looked at myself in the mirror…I had become a ‘middle-aged woman who had let herself go’. Sometimes the truth bites…hard.

“Rock bottom” happened at the doctor’s office shortly after returning from my trip. I weighed in at 196. My doctor and I were discussing changing my RA medicine. As I sat there reading the possible side effects, my heart sunk. I was seriously scared.

“Are there any other options?” I asked hopefully.

“Well,” he said. “There is one option, but no one ever takes it. It won’t cure you, but it may postpone for some time, your need to take these stronger drugs.”

I sighed and thought to myself, what could be so horrible no one does it? I had to ask, “so what is it?”

He simply said, “Exercise.” Then he added, “Losing some weight would help, too.” Yeah, right…now I know why no one does it. At the same time, I REALLY didn’t want to do the drugs. I decided to give it a try.

Over the next 8 weeks, I struggled and tried to watch what I ate. I tried to go all out with exercise. I was hungry and exhausted. I stepped on the scale…196. NOTHING, not even ONE pound. The diet and exercise plan said 20 pounds in eight weeks and I hadn’t lost a single pound. This was nuts!!

And then it hit me…my “ah-ha” moment. I found myself asking…

“Who made up the stupid rule you have to lose it all at once?”

Seriously. It had taken me years to get into THIS shape. What in the world ever made me think I could get back INTO shape in just a few months? DUH! This was my life, my future, my health for Pete’s sake!

So, I made some decisions…

1. I didn’t have to do it all at once. I could take it off over several years since that was the way I gained it. This was my life.
2. I had to come up with a diet that was sustainable. Something I could follow for the rest of my life. Not just a few weeks or months. This was my future.
3. Exercise had to fit my new life. It had to be something I could Do for the rest of my life. This was my health.

So, I set some goals…

1. I will lose 5 pounds by my next doctor appointment in 4 months.
2. I will eat 10% less food at every meal.
3. I will walk 5,000 steps every day.

So, I made a plan…

1. I would start slow. I would make changes only after I was comfortable and ready for the next change. Five pounds in four months was definitely doable.
2. I would start by simply eating less. Still eating the same foods I had always loved…just less of them. At every meal, at home or in restaurants, I ate about 10% less than my former portion.
3. I bought a pedometer and started walking. In the beginning I was doing 2-3 thousand steps a day. I was really out of shape. I had to work up to five thousand steps.

I was finally DOING something about my weight. I continued my plan for the next 4 months. That would take me to my 6 month follow-up with my doctor.

Now, doesn’t it always seem that when you start working on a goal; fate, destiny, luck…whatever you want to call it…steps in?

TO BE CONTINUED…

I found myself, throughout the day, reflecting on stories from family and friends regarding their service to our country. Like my 6th or 7th great-grandfather who served in the Revolution. His service wasn’t just in the military. His home was burned to the ground by the British, not once, but twice. The first as the British advanced toward Boston and again during their retreat. I marvel at the fortitude it took to rebuild during a war. Obviously not the homes of today. Probably just a simple log cabin. Nonetheless, an effort of strength and determination.

I also thought of my great-grandfather who served as a postal currier for the Union Army during the Civil War. He was only sixteen, delivering messages to the soldiers and officers…and he didn’t carry a gun.

His son, my grandfather, served as a medic in World War I. He developed emphysema and Parkinson’s disease as a result of his exposure to the mustard gases used during the war. He died when I was 5. I barely knew him and feel like he was taken from me way too soon.

My mom’s brothers, Harry and Dick, both served in the Pacific during World War II. Uncle Harry served in the Army. He contracted Malaria which weakened his heart and he died shortly after returning from the war. I never met him, but my dad tells me he was a wonderful man who could fix anything.

Uncle Dick served in the Marines and fought in the battle of Bougainville. He never talks about his experience there. He only talks of the friends he lost there and the bravery they showed in battle.

My very good friend, Don, served in the Army Air Corps in Europe during World War II. He made his last required fight on June 1, 1944, but he and his crew didn’t get to come home just then. At the debriefing following their flight they were told the Allies were “planning a little party in the next few days and wouldn’t they like to participate?” I’m not sure they actually had a choice. He flew two bombing missions on D-day, June 6, 1944. After several more flights, they all made it home safely. He and his navigator are the last two members of his crew still living.

My dad served state-side during the Korean War. Not that it kept him from harms way. He was drafted just shortly after he and mom were married in 1950. He nearly lost his life during a training exercise. He suffered a cracked skull and lost most of the muscle from the inner thigh of one leg. He never complains about it and still says the experience of serving in the Army was one of the best in his life.

I also have a couple of cousins currently serving this Memorial Day. Timmy (he will ALWAYS be “Timmy” to me) is serving in the Air Force and is currently stationed in Germany. He is fortunate that his family is able to be with him. My cousin Michelle is in the Navy and is currently stationed in Spain. Her family is still in the states and she misses her three children terribly. Her strength and courage amaze me.

Timmy and Michelle are members of the new “greatest generation”. They choose to serve. There is no draft today. There are so many amazing young people today who make this sacrifice willingly so a draft is not necessary. I hear their stories in the news and read them in the papers. They are the doers of this generation.

I am grateful to them all. Thank you. Two simple words that just don’t seem enough to express the gratitude I feel for all they have done and all they continue to do. I know that I have the freedom I enjoy today, not because of anything I have done, but because of the dedication and sacrifice others have made for me. I am deeply humbled.

This Memorial Day I honor and pray for those who have paid the ultimate sacrifice for my freedom. I pray for their families and for those who continue to service. And, from the depths of my heart, I say “Thank You”.

Do you have a story to tell? Please feel free to share by leaving a comment.

It happened like this. I had just completed my workout and was starting to head home. Near the fitness club there is a shop that sells fitness clothing for women. I’ve walked past it many times over the past year and a half and always meant to stop in, but never did.

It was a holiday weekend and, of course, they were having a sale. I figured, what the heck? I’ve got some time. I should check it out. And so I went in.

After looking around a bit, a sales person approached me. I explained I was training for a marathon (more on that in another post) and wanted to try and pick up some cool weather clothing on sale. (I have plenty of warm weather clothing.) She helped me find a few things and while I slipped one of the pullovers on, she noticed my Be Strong Hearted® bracelet.

Not one to miss an opportunity to tell people about BeStrongHearted.org, HDGC and the CDH1 gene connection, I launched into a brief explanation about stomach cancer, the Be Strong Hearted® mission and the website. And, for some reason unknown to me, I mentioned that this particular cancer receives the smallest amount of funding for research.

I could tell instantly she was touched by the story, but what came next nearly knocked me over…almost literally. She mentioned the store was discussing looking for a charity to sponsor a run on behalf of at their recent meeting. Did I think they could sponsor my charity?

Honest, here I am, a runner, deeply committed to a cause and I walk right into a store looking to sponsor a run for a charity. Could they sponsor mine?

Well of course they could!! I jumped without even giving it any thought. She introduced me to the manager and we exchanged contact information.

Now mind you, I’ve never set up a charity run. Actually, I know relatively little about it. Yet, I’m not afraid to learn. I have this sense that all will turn out well. Sometimes you just KNOW.

Sometimes the Power of Do grabs you and moves to places faster or sooner than you intend to go. It’s the compounding effect of doing that can bring opportunity your way. You just need to be open and receptive to those opportunities. Don’t be afraid to Jump…and let the net appear!

PS. Stay tuned for more information about the Run!!

For those rare few who have no clue what movie I’m talking about…it is the story of George Bailey, who wishes he had never been born and then gets a chance to see what the world would have been like without him.

The movie illustrates how small acts by one person can impact the lives of those around them. When that person isn’t there to perform that act, everything changes. My favorite part of the movie is when Clarence, George’s guardian angel, says “…each life touches another and when one of them is missing it leaves an awful hole.”

The movie also illustrates the Power of Friendship. The people in George’s community are his friends. He is there for them when they need him. When George finds himself in need, his family, his friends and everyone in the community rally around him to save the day.

We all experience troubled times. It isn’t just our response to those troubled times that determines the outcome. Outcomes are also influenced by the resources we have available. Family, friends and community are just a few of the resources around us.

When troubled times hit it can be hard to ask for help. In Wonderful Life George didn’t know how to ask for help. He tried to handle everything himself. He shut out his family, friends and community.

In the first few moments of a tragedy, we have to deal with the immediate issues at hand. Once the immediate shock is over it is time to let others in and accept their help. It is part of taking care of yourself and your family. Use the resources around you.

Raise awareness. Give support. Initiate action. Stir others to action.

When one person makes a decision and takes action, they can then start to involve others. As others become involved and take action, the action compounds like interest. That is the Power of Do.

Gather strength from your family, friends and community. Turn to them as a source of comfort and support. Ask questions and learn about the resources they can share with you.

We reach out and we give to others. Even in tough economic times, those who are facing challenges in their own lives STILL reach out to others and help. Even when our own situation is stretched to it’s limits we see others in need and we give. We are the answer.

If you are facing problems and are not sure where to turn or where to start, begin by talking to someone. Share your story. The first person you speak to may not be the one to help, but they may know someone who can.

You can’t get help unless you ask. When you ask, the answer may be Yes, Maybe or No, but not asking is a guaranteed No. You have to ask the question to have a chance at moving past No.

Use the Power of Do to get answers. Like George, you need to reach out to others and trust they will help you, just as you have helped others when they needed it most.