Last week was a big week for me. I got on the scales for the first time since I started my new nutrition and exercise regimen and I went to the doctor for my annual physical.
Getting on the scales would be the first test of whether all the work I’d been doing was paying off. For a month, I’d done everything Chelsea, the trainer I hired, had told me to do. I had walked – boy, have I walked – and I had done the three-times-a-week workouts she’s prescribed.
Perhaps most importantly, I’d eschewed bacon cheeseburgers for leaner fish, chicken and pork. I ate servings and servings of vegetables. I probably ate more fruit in January than I did in all of 2016.
I was more worried about the physical. I’m fortunate that I’ve always been relatively healthy, but a year ago, my doctor warned me that my cholesterol and blood pressure were beginning to creep up.
“It’s not bad enough to put you on meds yet,” I remember him telling me. “I’d rather see if you can lower the numbers on your own.”
He told me to eat better and to exercise. And for most of the year, I tried. And I failed. Five or six times, I would start eating better and exercising. Within two weeks, I was back to the bad habits.
Enter Chelsea. She’s a former college gymnast. She’s studied nutrition and exercise. She’s a certified strength and conditioning trainer. Plus, I’ve known her for six or seven years. I trust her.
The nutrition plan she gave me has been wonderful. It’s full of foods I love, and it even allows me to have certain things – like bacon – in moderation.
I’ve been walking twice a day – once in the morning and again in the evening – since Jan. 1. At first, it was tough to motivate myself to take that second walk. But now, it’s become part of my routine. I’m up to almost five miles a day.
The workouts are a different story. Most of the time, I love Chelsea and what she’s doing for me. Three mornings a week, however, when I’m doing Cruella de Vil’s instruments of torture, I cuss her like a sailor.
“If I ever catch my breath,” I think to myself after the workouts, “I’m going to kill her before she kills me.”
I admit it. The workouts are hard. My body hasn’t moved like she wants it to move in years. For the first two weeks, I was popping Advils like they were M&Ms, but I get through them.
Of course, just as I was getting used to the workouts, Cruella sent me a whole new list of instruments of torture for February, and once again I’m discovering muscles I didn’t know I had.
But I’m happy to report all the work is paying off. I lost 22 pounds in January – more than half the 40 pounds I want to lose – and the doctor told me my blood pressure and cholesterol levels now are completely normal.
Perhaps as important, my clothes are fitting better. I’ve discovered a whole new section of my closet that was full of items I had outgrown. I’m sleeping better. I have more energy.
“Isn’t it amazing what nutritious eating and a little exercise can do,” my doctor said. “Whatever you are paying your trainer probably isn’t enough.”
I told him to mind his own business. But he’s right. He’s absolutely right.
