O.P.

O.P.  On Program.

That what they called it when I attended Weight Watchers meetings during this slow journey (with ever so many detours) back to healthy living.  On Program.  Working the Program.  In other words, following the guidelines, journaling your food and exercise, making good decisions and being accountable for what you eat.

 O.P.

It also mean Off Program.

So essentially I've been O.P. or  O.P. for about 10 years, I think.  I lost 40 pounds the first go 'round on program.  I can't recall now what caused me to go off program but in the ensuing 5 years or so I'd go back On and Off and lose a few, gain a lot.  Classic.  Then I put myself in the care of a bariatric doctor but that involved shakes twice a day which didn't work for me at all--I need real food--plus she was quite ... well, mean.  Eventually I went back to WW but when my preferred meeting shut down and I'd heard everything they teach for the third time, I switched over to the electronic version where I've been either O.P. or O.P. for the last five years.  And yes, you still pay even when you don't attend meetings.  You're still getting the program.

In 2014 I struggled to stay on program.  Having been within 7 pounds of my goal (read: having lost over 100 pounds), a variety of circumstances (read: excuses) caused me to gain about half of that back, most in the last six months.  You see, intellectually I know how to work the program to stay on program and I'm really, really good at it when I'm on.  But when I'm off, I revert to the excuse-making, fast food junkie that let herself go in the first, second and third places.

It's hard to stay On Program.  I'm pretty busy ... cooking for one isn't always fun ... a bunch of arthritis crept in my joints, seemingly overnight, making exercise shaky.  Then there's stress.  I'm one of those people who can revert to "eating" or "feeding" the stress in a nano second.   I understand all my triggers; I know how I feel when living O.P., either way:  sluggish, depressed, temporarily fed or energetic, light-hearted and fully fed.  And both are choices.

The key is choosing.

And so, like many of you, this new year month of January, I'm choosing to live On Program again.  And, as I've experienced before, it's already working.  I'm as determined or more as I've ever been.  I wish I knew for sure whether I'm going to be able to go all the way this time.  I don't.  Just as with other addictions, the only thing I can do is take each day, one at a time.  But if I keep that in mind, that the only thing I have to do each day is stay On Program for that day or that meal, it seems doable.  Measurable goals.  Small steps.  Realizing that this continual struggle of my adulthood is likely to be life-long feels insurmountable; but recognizing that I don't have to deal with anything other than the day (or meal) before me makes the struggle somehow, not easier really, but less scary.

So, if, like me, you're resolving to get be your best self this year, I wish all success for you; be gentle with yourself and realize that every subsequent choice is a chance to get it right, whatever that means for you.  We've got this.  One day, one meal, at a time.

~~~

My go-to On Program playlist (because I couldn't do this without music):

Gavin DeGraw - Everything Will Change
Sara Bareilles - Brave
NKOTB - Remix (I Like The) ... don't judge me ... she owns it in this video and I love that.
Andry Grammer - Lunatic

Weight Watchers.  Your own real food, not out of a box or packet.  Check eTools here.

I Didn't Ask You

My mother always told me "Diet quiet."  In other words, other people don't need to know your business, your struggles, your personal stuff.  And in the roller coaster decades of intermittent stabs at trying to lose weight, I think I was mostly quiet about it.  Maybe not within my family ... but pretty much everywhere else.

This time it's been a bit different.  I guess because the change was dramatic--at least at first.  Finding myself again was sort of amazing to me.  After so many false starts to finally experience success was so  ... liberating, energizing, inspiring and exciting.  At first everyone was supportive.  Those who hadn't seen me for a while were visibly surprised.  My favorite reactions were when people actually didn't recognize me.  That happened a bunch of times.  One night when I was working at church, a family I'd known well when I worked there full time was leaving their kids with me.  I was chatting away normally and finally the mom said to me "I'm sorry.  Should I know you?"  Me: "It's me -- Katherine."  Oh gosh.  She was sort of embarrassed.  She needn't have been.  It was a good moment for me.

Dinner tonight on Weight Watchers app.
(Olives are my favorite!)

So at first there was support and surprise.  Then came the questions.  "How much have you lost?" was, of course, the lead-off question followed by "How did you do it."  I answered them both.  The answer to the first one changed by the week as the number grew and grew--the number of pounds lost that is.  The answer to the second was always the same:  Weight Watchers, walking and music.  

I used Weight Watchers online and the Weight Watchers app only.  No meetings for me this time around.  That whole group thing really used to make me uncomfortable.  I only ever had one group leader that I could relate to.  The others were not very interesting or motivational.  I sat through a lot of them over the years.  But working the program for myself was my way to success this time around.  I journaled and weighed and measured every mouthful.  I was accountable.  To myself.  I weighed myself everyday (a Weight Watchers no-no--they want you to weigh only once a week).  Weighing myself every day kept me on track.  It kept me from straying.  Boy, I was so strong the first 15 months or so.  It was an almost steady decline.

The walking provided immediate results too.  It wasn't long before the diabetes basically disappeared.  I could walk longer and farther every week.  It also wasn't long before I started to crave the walks.  I know this isn't unique.  People get addicted to exercise and I think I was.  As often as possible I walked 3-5 miles in the morning and 4-8 miles at night.  A 7-mile walk felt perfect to me.  I exercised more and needed less food.  It was a revelation.  Or a revolution.  My own personal revolution.  

Another important aspect of the walks was the peace it gave me.  Sunrises and sunsets, my river and the lakes in my town, the spring, the pond ... I love them all and they give me endless lovely vistas to capture with my camera and my imagination.  I've put up with dogs, a cat that used to follow me, two skunks, and warnings of a bear ahead several times (though I never saw him).  There have been birds, ducks, geese, swans, dragonflies, frogs, a beaver and deer.  The walks are a blessing and I'm so grateful I gave myself the gift of time to do them.

The music was a huge factor.  Listening to Gavin DeGraw and the other musicians I discovered as a result of having discovered him allowed me to find the space in my head to sort through all sorts of thoughts and doubts that had been pestering me for decades.  If you've read this space once or twice before you already know that this music is very special to me and I mean it when I say it changed my life.  The live music adventures that ensued provided so much fuel for the journey.

After the questions came the comments:

"You've lost enough now."  Really?  I don't remember asking you.

"You're fine the way you are." Really?  Shouldn't I be the one who determines that?

"You can eat that [cake, cookie, burger]."  Really?  I know that.  I can eat whatever I want.  But I'm choosing not to eat that [cake, cookie, burger].

I didn't ask you.  I know you mean well.  I know you think I "need a treat."  Believe me, I treat myself--a little too often lately, actually.  From August through January my friendly scale went for a roller coaster ride and there were far more ups than downs.  I'm not sure why although the beginning of this latest ride was a bit of a professional crisis that propelled me smack into my old habits of self-medicating with food.  I think I'm back on track now.  

"You were getting too thin anyway."  Really?  This latest comment has been coming my way often these days.  People ask how the eating plan is going so I answer pretty honestly.  "I've put a few back on."  

"That's okay; you were getting too thin anyway."

I didn't ask you to weigh in on my weight.  I've politely answered all the questions.  I've been encouraging to those who share their struggles with me.  I've shared the tricks that worked for me.  My journey hasn't been a secret.  I mean ... there I was: big. Here I am: smaller.  It's noticeable.  I can't deny there was stuff going on.  

I don't mind the questions.  Ask away.  I'll talk to you forever about the struggle that has occupied the last twenty or more years of my life.  I know many people also struggle with a few or a bunch of extra pounds.  I don't mind talking about the ups and downs of the weight loss process.

But I didn't ask for your opinion about my body nor about what does or doesn't go into it.  I know you think I'm "all better now."  The truth is that a lot of the stuff that caused me to eat in the first place is alive and well in my head, just waiting for me to have a weak moment.  When you say I was getting too thin, it's like telling me I don't know what's good for me.  That I'm not capable of deciding for myself.  It's not an encouraging thing to say.  

It's a daily, hourly struggle.  To find other means of dealing with feelings, doubts, highs, lows other than with food.  It's a struggle to plan healthy meals and much easier to drive through somewhere (anywhere) for dinner.  It's not easy to walk by the concession stand in theaters, to not have a glass of wine with dinner.  For me, it's really hard to like broccoli.  (Raw, okay; cooked, please, no.)  I may never be out of the woods with this thing.  It will probably challenge me every day for ever.

But it's my body, my issues, my baggage and my decision (to eat or not, exercise or not).  I own it all--the successes and the setbacks.  I get to say what the goal is and when I've reached it.  I say when.  I say how much.  Ask me questions.  Let's compare notes.  But, please, no comments.  

PS ~ I'm still Weight Watcher-ing, walking and listening to music (lots of music and sometimes dancing) every day.

~~~~~

This song has meant a lot to me on this journey.  I was here, sitting next to the person who filmed this.  And yes, it was pouring.  And yes, we were soaked.  Gavin DeGraw, Soldier (Rye Playland, July 23, 2012, with Billy Norris, Jimmy Wallace, Ian O'Neill, James Cruz)

Losers Are Winners

The sobs won't stop.

If I tell you why, you might laugh.  If someone had ever told me I'd be wrapped up in a reality television show, taking it seriously, I'd have said they were crazy.  But this show and many of the people who find their way to and through it have a profound effect on me every time it airs.

Because I am one of them.

The show is NBC's The Biggest Loser.  When I started my weight loss journey I probably could have qualified for the show.  Morbidly obese, tired, living day to day, just getting through took everything I had.  My blood pressure was so high there were days I could literally feel my heart racing even though I wasn't exerting myself in the least.  Getting dressed for work every day was a challenge.  Finding things in my closet that looked okay on me happened rarely.  Clothes shopping was a miserable chore.

The list of things I could no longer do--at least not without tremendous effort--got longer and longer.  My garden, once on a house tour, was sad and in disrepair.  Sitting on the floor to teach Godly Play was impossible.  Hiking with my Girl Scouts was out of the question.  Simple house cleaning took all day because I'd sit and rest so often.  Everyday tasks became hurdles.  Laundry:  two flights down; two flights up.

I watched the Biggest Loser from the start--sitting in a recliner, often with Burger King on my lap.  Watching people find their way through their personal mazes of self-doubt or tragedy or recovery from abuse and any number of other issues that caused their food addictions should have inspired me but it did not.  I just enjoyed watching them and marveled at their ability to lose weight so fast.  But then, I would rationalize:  they have trainers, they are on hiatus from real life, they have a prize at the end.  And I also knew that many of them did not keep the weight off.  So there.

Fast forward a couple of years to 2012 and the dreadful diabetes diagnosis.  There it was:  my motivator.  I can't possibly express how awful I felt every time I lanced my finger.  Every morning.  Every night.  It was painful.  Literally, of course.  But in other ways too.  Every time I squeezed out that drop of blood, I was acutely aware I had done this to myself.  Blame.  Each time I saw the endocrinologist, I felt like she was blaming me too.

Around the time of my diabetes diagnosis, my dad became seriously ill, having suffered from respiratory issues virtually his whole life.  He was hospitalized, and, as it turned out, it was his final hospitalization.  Walking through his last days ironically provided me with more strength and resolve to get healthy and stay healthy.  I'd already returned to Weight Watchers, although just on-line; no more meetings.  I'd heard everything they could say during the other half dozen times I'd joined.  Following my dad's death, I had this uncanny energy--like nothing I'd ever known--even when I was slim.  I mentioned it to a priest friend of mine.  We talked about energy ... how when someone dies, their energy has to go somewhere.  She suggested that my dad's energy had found a home in me, that he was helping me find the strength to get on the path to healthy.  I choose to believe this.  My dad would love to know I'm healthy now.  I think he does.

This journey has had its ups and downs.  Mostly ups, to be sure.  But the last two months of 2013 were difficult, a slippery slope of return to old habits I thought I'd licked.  I'd been so close to my goal--only about 15 pounds away.  Today I'm about 30 pounds away (again).  It's proof that this is my life-long battle.  Proof that every day is an opportunity to choose health and happiness over feeding my anxiety, tiredness and self-doubt with instant gratification.  It's a lot of work.  Really hard work.

But it's worth it.  And I have a closet full of clothes to prove it.  It's more than that though.  It's the satisfaction of knowing that you're back in charge of your life that feels so good.

The people on The Biggest Loser are remarkable to me.  They come from all walks of life.  Mostly they're just regular folks trying to regain control of their weight, their health, their lives.  That's what it is most of the time:  losing or relinquishing control is the root, no matter what the issues may be.  Convincing yourself that you are stronger than those issues, whether great or small, is a tall order.   They know that and I know that.  If weight has never been a problem for you, there's no way you can understand what a prison it is.  Locked away in a vicious cycle of self-medicating with food that leads to self loathing that leads to more eating.  And so the tears flow tonight--for them, for me, for our personal victories, for possibilities.

I sometimes wonder if I'll ever put the negative thoughts, hurtful memories and weaknesses to rest fully.  Maybe not.  But I am learning every day to keep them in perspective, looking forward instead of back and reminding myself that it's a journey with no real end.  It's simply my life.

~~~~~

Remix (I Like the) by New Kids on the Block because whatever your size, it's really important to be confidant and believe in yourself.  Weight (or whatever it is that prevents you from living your full life) does not define you.

Borders and Boundaries

I've been thinking a lot about borders and boundaries since being away last week.  We drove to Canada to visit friends and family in the city where my parents, my brothers and I were born, Windsor, Ontario.  There were border crossings involved, naturally.  But I passed through a lot of boundaries besides the obvious ones.

It's about a 10- or 11-hour drive from my home in New Jersey to my birthplace.  I can no longer drive it in one day (at least not by myself).  We take our time crossing the borders of Pennsylvania and Ohio.  A lot of people don't like the drive.  They say Route 80 in Pennsylvania is boring and the flatness of Ohio is unappealing to some.  Pennsylvania is wide and it feels like it's taking forever but it's pretty with worn-low mountains and wildflowers and quilts of farmland spread out on either side of the road.  I went to college in Ohio so I'm pretty partial to that state.  It is kind of flat in the north where we travel but there's beauty in that.  The horizon is far in the distance with grey weathered barns pushed against the edge and fields and fields of growing things. 

When I'm driving through Ohio my mind travels across decades of borders and memories that are triggered by green highway signs.  I'm sure I knew people from Vermillion ... my roommate had family in Akron ... the second great love of my life was from Elyria (wonder where he is; is he happy; how many children; and on and on).  I don't visit those borders very often any more but the signs naturally cause me to look back.  Border crossings.

So we drive to Toledo and turn north. It's that simple, especially from my house situated within sight of Route 80.  Before we get there we pass by signs for Sandusky and Cedar Point.  Cedar Point ... site of the last roller coaster I ever rode.  The Blue Streak, 1971.  Nancy's father took us over the border for a day of fun in this classic amusement park.  "Come on," she said.  "It's not bad, I promise."  Her dad could tell I was changed for life when I exited that ride.  I'm pretty sure I was white as a sheet.  Thank goodness they hadn't thought to set up cameras on those rides yet.  I have not been on anything faster than teacups since.  

When we finally get to the real border crossing (after getting through the tunnel that links Detroit with Windsor, the U.S. with Canada), there's always that moment of dread:  that unwarranted fear you get when speaking to someone "in authority."  I can't help but notice the two language greeting, "Bonjour/hello."  A few basic questions and we're on our way again, a couple of blocks to the hotel situated on the river.  On the border.  I can look across from my old home and wave towards my now home.

I crossed some other borders during the week.  The most notable was the boundary I've set up for myself this year.  The one that keeps me eating healthy and exercising every day.  It's hard to make good choices when you're traveling.  I did pretty well the first couple of days but when that poutine appeared on the menu ... well, I crossed over into dangerous eating territory.  I went over the border into full vacation mode. I recognize that's an excuse for making bad choices and not standing my ground at that border.  I did manage to walk every day except for three of the driving days.  I'm not happy with crossing that boundary but I accept that I chose to go over the bridge and that it will take some time to undo the damage.

We spent the week crossing borders and boundaries.  Visiting friends and family who've been in our lives all my life and reminiscing at every turn.  They say you can never go back but I'm lucky.  I was rooted in such a lovely place that even though it's changed much over the years, I can still find my childhood amidst the "progress."

This image really made me both laugh and think as we
waited in a very long line to cross back to the States.  We
aren't "closed" here.  We welcome people from all over the
world.  Every day.  People seeking both a short respite and a
permanent refuge.

Crossing back and returning home, I run the memories in reverse.  Other bits of the past trickle up but by the time we hit New Jersey, I've crossed back to the present.  I'm running my to-do list for the week ahead and playing catch-up in my brain.  The final border crossing:  home again.

~

There was, of course, a playlist as I drove:

Gavin DeGraw (the entire catalog)

Jamie McLean Band (my summer party)

Andy Grammer (happiness on a disc)

Sara Bareilles (pure beauty)

Michael Franti (peace & dancing too)

Colbie Caillet (memories of last summer)

Off Track

I've been pretty single-minded about this weight-loss business.  I mean I've been pretty devoted to making the right food choices and exercising a lot.  But I have an eating problem and no one knows it better than I do.

In fact, most people think I don't have a problem any more.  I'm getting a lot of "you're done now, right?" and "you don't need to lose any more; you don't want to get too skinny."  I think it's interesting that people never said to my face how overweight I was and believe me, I was.  Everyone is too polite for that.  It's interesting that those same people now feel free to voice their opinions about my weight now.  They don't know how much I weigh.  They only see how I look.

This journey is not just about how I look.  It's about how I feel now.  It's about my health.  It's about having energy and confidence.  It's about be able to sit on the floor and maybe teach Godly Play again.  It's about hiking up and down hills with my girl scouts.  It's about working in my garden.  It's about being able to lace up my sneakers.  Literally.  I am now able to do that.  It's about long walks that clear my head to make room for getting other things accomplished.

I have an eating problem.  I manage it so much better now but every once in a while it still manages to manage me.  Like today.

I've had a couple of busy weeks.  A couple of trips to New York to hang out, concert fun in Point Pleasant, family stuff, Memorial Day parading.  This weekend included Friday night through Sunday morning camping with my girl scouts, heading to the Mayo PAC for Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, dinner out with my son and Governor Christie*, and coming home to an enormous problem to be solved on a Sunday night for work.

I'm tired.  You can't be tired and maintain the amount of strength necessary for this eating battle that I wage on a meal-by-meal and snack-by-snack basis. I've raided my boss's candy bowl which I have successfully walked past every day for a year to a ridiculous degree the last two workdays.  I ordered pizza for dinner tonight even though there are better choices in my 'fridge.  I had three hot dogs at camp.  There could be more confessions here but we get the point.  I haven't been on the scale since Thursday but I'll get on it tomorrow and I know I'm going to be angry and disappointed with myself.

I know what my triggers are ... Nervous me eats.  Tired me eats.  Depressed me eats.  Worried me eats.  Partying me eats.  Drinks too.  And doesn't stop.  Because ordering a cheeseburger isn't the worst thing in the world.  Unless it's preceded by a cheesy appetizer of some sort and followed by a cake and ice cream dessert of some sort.

Time to get back on track.  When I write it here, I have some success.  Sending my thoughts out to cyberworld makes me feel accountable in some way.  I have no idea why that should be so because this is a rather anonymous and ethereal conversation.  After all, I have no idea who, if anyone is seeing this.  But however it does, it does work for me.

And if you know me, trust me.  I know what I'm doing and I know why I'm doing it.  There's no danger of my getting too thin.  I'm in regular discussions with my doctor and only recently finally achieved normal BMI for my height and age.  I'm within the normal range which is to say I could go lower if I want to and still be in that normal range.  It's not helpful to tell me I can eat anything I want.  Of course I can't.  I have a problem.  You wouldn't tell an alcoholic he or she could have a drink if he or she wanted one.  You'd tell them to stay strong.  Food addicted people need the same support.  It's a hard road.  It's not like a person can give up eating entirely the way an alcoholic can give up drinking entirely.  Or a smoker can give up smoking.  We all need to eat.  For a food addicted person with emotional triggers it's like constantly living on the proverbial slippery slope.  Don't tell me not to eat something that may not be the best choice either.  It's my choice.  I chose to give in to my weaknesses the last week.  Tomorrow I choose to get back on track.  You can support me by not judging--the good days or the bad days.  These are my choices to make.

I'm living my life the best way I know how now.  I may get off track from time to time.  But now I know I can get back on track if I choose, too. And I do choose.  It's my life to lead and these are my choices to make.

~

PS  Thank you Weight Watchers eTools!  You are an awesome support.  I could never have come this far (107 pounds) without you.

*Had dinner last night at my favorite restaurant on the planet, Urban Table in Morristown.  Governor Chris Christie lives a couple of towns over from Morristown in the other direction from me.  We were seated at the table just next to his.  The entire room was really respecting his private time with his family which was wonderful to see.  Although I agree with almost nothing that he alleges he's accomplished, I strongly believe in public figures' right to privacy even while out in public.  And since this is a weight-loss journal tonight and the world knows that my governor also struggles with weight (about the only place where he and I connect), he was making awesome choices for his eating plan too ...

ReBirth Day, the Second One

The first time my world was turned upside down was when my husband left.  Plunged into single motherhood, the most challenging and rewarding assignment ever handed to me, I think I lived on a sort of treadmill for about 15 years.

In August of 2011, my world was shaken again, this time by Hurricane Irene when my river invaded my house.  That experience pushed me off the treadmill and woke me up to a new way of experiencing life.  The first rebirth day.

The latest shake-up came a year ago today when I had to get serious about my health.  Several days after an appointment with an endocrinologist to check up on a old thyroid issue, the phone call with blood test results came.  Diabetes.  Oh, and you now have multiple lesions on your thyroid.  Thus began the second rebirth and the full wake-up call.

They bring you in for a lesson so you can learn how to poke a hole in your finger and squeeze out blood for the little meter device.  It took days to master that skill.  I don't bleed very readily apparently.  Lose weight.  Eat right.  Exercise.  Hello Weight Watchers.  Hello dietician.  Hello road-worthy sneakers.

Luckily, I'm a good student and I was finally sufficiently scared by all the doctor talk to get really serious about following everyone's instructions.  Weight dropped off and keeps dropping.  Eating right and now enjoying it. Thyroid ultrasounded and biopsied.  Difficult surgery decision (keeping the thyroid for now).  Diabetes gone.  Needles done.  High blood pressure gone.  Energy up.

Through this long year with some high points and some very low points (my father died eleven months ago today), I've had the support of family, friends and coworkers who have been constantly encouraging and celebrating the little victories along the way.   I can't thank them all enough for helping me to keep focused and understanding my single-mindedness this year.  Thank you to my office mates for putting up with too many conversations about weight loss and people's reactions who hadn't seen me in a while.  It got a little embarrassing at times.  I'm so rich with an abundance of caring people in my life.  My cup runneth over.

Life is good.  I'm not afraid of jumping.

To celebrate the brand new me, a playlist of some of the music that moved me and got me moving:

Gavin DeGraw, Meaning
Andy Grammer, Lunatic
Chris Wallace, Invincible
Colbie Caillat, Think Good Thoughts
Jamie McLean Band, Peace and Glory
OneRepublic, Life in Color
Gavin DeGraw, Candy
Alicia Keys, Brand New Me
New Kids on the Block, Remix (I Like The)
Gavin DeGraw, Free

Find my playlist on YouTube:  I Hope You're Not Afraid of Jumping

Get Out

Part of my path along the river this year has included copious amounts of walking.  Like a lot.  As in miles and miles.  The doctor told me last April that I needed to walk a half hour each day.  That's how you manage diabetes--with diet and exercise.  I think I cried.  Taking care of myself has been so low on my list of things to do for so long I couldn't imagine fitting in a half hour per day walk.  The diet I wasn't so afraid of since I'd had a good experience with Weight Watchers in the past.  Not that it stuck. Hence the diabetes.

But all of a sudden I was thrust in the position of really having no choice but to start paying attention to myself.  The former aerobic-instructor-turned-obese-sedentary-perennial-community-volunteer/single mother needed to get moving.  So I went for the first walk.  I did about a mile.  It took about an hour.  By the time I got home I was crying again.  How in the world would I ever keep this up, let alone fit it into my life daily?

It turns out, it's not such a hard thing to keep a commitment to yourself once you make it.  There was immediate success with the change in diet and adding in the exercise.  Pounds started rolling off and I took off.  Nothing like success for motivation.  Spring turned into summer and a mile a day turned into up to 12 miles a day.  I made 6 miles my minimum each day while the weather held but some days I managed a morning walk and an evening walk too.  That's when the miles really added up.  The walks became something I looked forward to, craved even.  I couldn't wait to leave the office to get my sneakers on.  

As I walked I took pictures.  I've lived in this town 28 years and never noticed all the beauty around me  . . . until I got out of my car.  Spending a couple of hours a day briskly walking around town introduced me to historic sites, tiny pockets of parkland, up close views of our lakes and I started my reconciliation with the river that had invaded my house.  After miles of walking alongside her, we were fully reconciled by the 1-year anniversary of Hurricane Irene in August.  Mid walk, I usually posted my favorite view of the day on facebook--my mini-blogs of appreciation for the walks, the sights and the music that kept me going.

Which brings me to the music.  When I bought my iPhone, I recall saying to the sales clerk that I didn't have to know how to use the iTunes app because I'd never download music to my phone.  I was strictly a CD girl.  Liner notes and all.  But around the same time I was told to get out and get moving, I discovered the music of Gavin DeGraw (story for another time).  I'd already bought the CD's, all of them.  Then I bought them again--a second set for the car.  I craved this music more than anything I'd ever heard.  I can't recall any artist ever that got my attention so completely.  And so I downloaded music to my phone--lots of music.  At first, it was just Gavin.  Then it was anyone he recommended and the folks he was touring with last summer.  Then it was whoever my new friends on Twitter (yet another story for another time) were listening to and whomever those people toured with or recommended.

The music, the sunrises and sunsets, the trails in the woods and parks, the lakes and river--it all powerfully combined to get me out and to keep me going.  So I don't mind the weather.  I walk in the rain or snow.  I'll go out if it's below freezing (today) or above steaming.  I've managed to take off 94 pounds since April.  I'm off blood pressure pills and my A1C is normal.  There're a few more to go but even when I'm at my goal I know I'll still be getting out.  It's as much for my head now as it was for my health.

Here's today's view (Indian Lake from the deep beach docks).  A gorgeous sunset on the ice-covered lake.  How can I not be inspired to keep this up?  It's a beautiful world out there.  But you've got to get out ...