Where's the Fire?

Well, it's been awhile since I've blogged, but we did make it through our backpacking trip.  Someday I'll write more about it, but for now, I just am happy to be back to blogging.

The trip was good, but it did kind of mess up my eating schedule/recording my food and once again made me lazy.  In addition, once we were out of the woods, we stopped to eat and I ordered a pop....  So, I also broke my year long streak of being soda free.  

Probably the worst thing is I haven't recorded a full days meals since we left for our hike.  As a result, I haven't lost much weight.  This last week though, I tried to record my food a little more regularly and get back into my good habits.  I'm just doing what I can right now, but it did help.  I had only lost three pounds in the weeks leading up to last week.  One week back on the wagon (sort-of) and I lost five pounds.  So, I know how important recording my food is, yet I still don't want to do it!  

In many ways, I am disappointed with myself for not recording my food after only 4 days without internet access.  I am also disappointed with myself for drinking pop here and there since our trip.  It doesn't taste that good and it makes me feel funny!  Still, now I seem to be missing my willpower to stay away from it.  I haven't resorted to ordering it, but I do steal sips from my hubby or kids when they have it.  

Another sad thing is I lost a lot of my support people around the same time I quit logging in and recording my food; not literally, but in the sense that they no longer log onto our food recording system.  That's tricky because if you don't feel like anyone is watching it's very hard to hold yourself accountable.  Realistically, I know that I'm doing this for me and I'm my best motivation, but it does something to my brain not to have people "thumbs-up" my status when I log my food or enter my weight loss.  I wish it didn't matter, but it does.  I've even logged in with my husband's account and wrote myself an encouraging note.  I need to find another way to make it appealing for me to login and record my food.  That seems to be the best way for me to lose weight and so I have to find something that motivates me to keep doing it.  I guess that's why I'm back on here today.  

I know my blog isn't read by everyone or even very many people, but I need to be accountable to more people.  I have to make time to blog and share where I'm at in this process.  I have a long way to go and I can't let myself get in the way of my success.  I need to find my fire, my passion, my reason for being happy!  I hate that I let things wear me down, make me feel depressed, and keep me from reaching my goals.  Why do I always feel like quitting when things don't go the way I expect them to or when I fail?

Today, I am 2.2 lbs away from losing 100 total pounds!  I'm so close to that major milestone, but I have a long way to go.  My goal for this week will be to hold myself accountable and to take it one day at a time.  I'll try not to give up when/if I fail...that will be the hard part. 

Backpackers Ready

Last weekend, we spent an entire day preparing our packs for our tri-annual backpacking trip.  Our packs have been filled and weighed and our route has been chosen.  Our destination is clear and our hearts are ready.  We leave in a couple days and I couldn't be more excited to see this country again and show it's glory to my two boys.  I hope to someday be able to do the same with my girls. 

My worry now is that I won't be strong enough to make the trip.  I have a lot of excuses as to why I might not be strong enough, but for now, I'm ignoring those and pushing forward.  Still, the thought of letting everyone down weighs on me a bit, but not as heavy as last time.  Instead, my focus turns to my children.  I worry that we won't bring enough food for the boys and that they'll be hungry and malnourished.  I worry that they won't find it as amazing as I do, but in my heart I think they'll enjoy the beauty because we have always taught them to do so.  I hope that they find it peaceful and challenging, but not overwhelming.  I'm sure they'll be fine, but I want them to have the best experience possible.

For weeks now, I've watched my hubby try to hide his feelings about this trip as not to sway my decision to go one way or the other.  However, this past weekend, I could see his excitement as he sorted through all of our gear, prepared our fishing bag, and helped the boys understand their packs.  Nothing makes me happier than seeing him excited about an adventure.  He goes into a different mode when he's preparing for something and it's really cute.  His excitement is a good enough reason for me to make this trip whether my mind thinks I'm ready or not.  

This time, we will be going for a shorter amount of time so we were able to pack less food.  Currently, my pack weighs about 20 pounds which is great, but we may have to make some adjustments before we actually leave.  As of now though, things are looking great.  I'm about 80 pounds lighter than the last time I hiked and my pack is about 10 pounds lighter.  I'm hoping all of this makes a huge difference in my speed and stamina.  Instead of taking most of the day to get to camp, I hope to do it in about three hours.  However, it stresses me out a little to put a time frame on it.  The goal is to get there, the time is a bonus. 

As the day approaches, I have begun to feel more anxious.  I know I could have done so much more to prepare physically for this trip and yet part of me wants the scenarios to be similar so that the main difference is how much weight I've lost.  It's more than just a trip into the peaceful mountains this time.  I want to know that passing up all those donuts, skipping the dessert menu, ordering salads, losing all this weight, and working so hard is worth it.  I already know how it's changed my day to day life, but I want to see if it's changed my quality of life.  And, putting all this pressure on me to perform drastically better than the last time is probably unhealthy, but I want to know what I can do today and I'll never know until I do it.  We'll see how my mindset changes once I'm actually in the moment, but for now, I hope to see big things.  Either way, this will be another emotional trek.

To Hike or Not To Hike

So, this summer marks the three year anniversary of our last backpacking trip.  Oddly, I knew this time would come.  It was three years between our first trip and our second trip and as summer was approaching, it just seemed like the time was right to take the trip again.

I've spent the last two days recollecting the last two trips and while the visual walk down memory lane was magnificent, the physical thought of repeating that hike is far less interesting.  The whole experience is something that is so hard for me to describe, it's something you have to experience for yourself.  

While the total distance may not seem like much (some people actually do this as a day hike), the elevation change is intense and the physical toll it takes on a body is crushing.  I lost my big toe nails after both the previous hikes and while the blisters were better on the second hike (thanks to new boots), they were still there.  

Still, there is something inside that is pushing me to go.  I want to know how much easier it will be after losing some weight.  Yet, I'm scared that it won't be any easier and I'll still feel as though I'm going to die and letting others down.  I've been thinking about this for months and I'm still having a hard time making the decision to go.  My head goes back and forth between hiking and camping.... If I just want to go camping, that's a whole lot easier.  However, my heart wants to be back up in those mountains.    

As of Wednesday, we are leaning towards going.  In fact, at this point I'm going to say we are going -- we've started a packing list so that's a pretty good sign it's going to happen.  This time though, both my boys want to go.  It will be interesting to have them along.  They worry about me and my physical capabilities a lot.  I've noticed this more as I've become more active.  I don't want them to worry about me on the hike.  I just want them to enjoy the walk and take in the beauty and hopefully, they'll find a love for backpacking and continue to do it long after their time with us.

Our current goal for the hike is to take two or three days to hike and still travel nearly 20 miles.  I'm not sure I will be able to do it though.  We've never done it in that little time.  If you set a time frame though, you have to stick to it because you have people waiting for you and no way to contact them until you're out of the mountains.  Also, you only pack so much food.  You don't want to carry more weight then you need to.  So, if we say we are going to do this in three days, we have to do it in three days.  The time frame also worries me because once you're up there, you want to see as much as possible.  There are so many lakes you could visit and with that short time frame, we won't be able to make it to very many places.  Still, the adventure will be good and anything you get to see up there will be worth the trip.

Anxiety is going to cause me some grief over the next few weeks as I stress about all of the things that could go wrong and all the ways I might fail, but I'm not going to let anxiety keep me from going.  I need to know how much of a difference weighing less will make - if any.  I'm still worried about how hard it's going to be and what will happen to my mindset if I don't find it any easier.  

Backpacking at 294 Pounds

In 2013, my husband, his friend, and I set out to hike through the same mountain range as we had hiked in 2010.  This time though, we were taking a different path and planned a trip that would cover 30 miles of terrain in six days.  The idea of hiking this area again was unbearable.  Before when we had hiked, we had spent the months before preparing by working out at the gym - something we didn't do this time.  Not to mention, adding 20 pounds to my weight didn't encourage me any either.  Still, after many conversations and debates, I said I would go.  I did this only for my husband because I knew he wanted to go again and I also knew he wouldn't go without me (we're a team that way - a package deal if you will).  This time, we would be travelling with one of my husbands best friends from high school -- an avid hiker.  Last time, I was worried about failing my hubby, but this time, I was worried about failing them both.  

Determined not to die, I hugged my dad at the trail head and thanked him for the ride, before strapping into our packs and taking one last photo.  I tried to think of an excuse to get me back into that pick-up, but nothing was coming to mind and I knew my pack contained communal gear.  With hesitation and fear, I cinched down my straps and began the walk to the trail.  Before long, we were out of site and into the woods.... This was happening again.  

When we hit the fork, we took the left this time, which in someways relieved me a bit.  It was a new trail, a new path, and gave me hope that I may be successful after all.  We hiked for hours, this time slower than the last.  With each step, I knew I was holding my other party members back.  I wanted so desperately to be able to keep a good pace for them, but knew that I couldn't do it.  In the distance, our final resting place could be seen for miles and each hour that passed seemed to push the mountains further away.  The new trail was gradual and provided beautiful scenery.  I could imagine the Nez Perce camping in the glacier-carved valley next to the calm creek that flowed through it.  Their tipi's spread out, children laughing and playing, and horses grazing.  I imagine it would be a wonderful place to live for the summer, high above the world and so peaceful.  This daydream kept me going for quite awhile.

Within a mile or so (I was too tired to know for sure) from our first stop, I became overwhelmingly exhausted.  I was ready to quit, but my husbands friend charged ahead, dropped off his pack and returned to pack mine the rest of the way.  This was my first defeat.  I had failed both my husband and his friend and embarrassed myself.... I literally couldn't even pull my own weight.

By the time we made it to the first stop, I was beating myself up pretty bad over my inability to make it on my own to the lake.  Although the guys were awesome, I knew that I had slowed them down by several hours and it was only day one.  We made camp, enjoyed the stars while laying out on the rocks, ate some food, drank a little whiskey, and settled in for the night.  

The next morning, we packed up camp and headed down the trail, through the same rocky hillsides we had passed through before, but this time, we pushed on past the beautiful lake where we had camped before and made our way to another valley where we made camp.  Then, we hiked to the bottom of a mountain cased with granite boulders.  This is where I would leave these two as they ventured up this insane slope to a lake at the top.  Still exhausted from the hike the day before and the one that morning, I slowly found my way back to where we made camp.  Here, I rested in my hammock until the boys returned bearing fish.  I spent the next half hour or so weaving a small basket to cook the fish on.  The warmth of the fire, the taste of fresh fish, and the conversation was enough to make me forget about my anguish from the day before.   

The following day, we headed over the mountain and rested at a lake we had never seen before.  It's always hard for me to describe how incredibly beautiful these places are, but every time you see something new up there, your jaw drops and you realize how small you are in this big world.  It stops time and allows you to enjoy the beauty of nature.  This lake was no different.  We made camp on the other side, fished for hours using grasshoppers we caught along the shore, and slept soundly under the starlit sky.  

On day four, we made our way around the lake and crossed a creek before heading down the rocky trail.  Our packs were slightly lighter and our lungs were adjusting to the altitude.  We followed the gravel path for quite some time before I stepped on rock and twisted my ankle.  My hiking poles kept me from falling all the way to the ground and helped me make it the remainder of the way down the path.  When we reached the bottom (and more lakes), we sat, took our boots off, and did a little bandaging.  We also did a lot of contemplating.  Here is where the trail split.  To the right, the path we planned on taking.  To the left, the shorter path....  For the first time since day one, I knew I was holding everyone back and I didn't want to be the reason the trip was cut short.  I wanted so desperately to finish the 30 mile trek that we had planned, but the boys chose the shorter path.  I knew it was because of me (they were both fine), but they would never say that was chose the shorter route.  

Sadly, we marched to the left and headed down the mountain.  On the trail, I silently took blame for ruining the trip that was planned and I knew I let everyone down.  To make matters worse, the clouds rolled in and rain fell.  The proximity of thunder and lightning put a sense of urgency in my step and I booked it as fast as my legs could go.  We made it to the meadow where we were able to set up camp just before the down pour.  Eventually the clouds parted and we were able to enjoy our last night in the mountains; although, the guilt in my heart was heavy.

On our final day, we packed up camp one last time and headed down the same path we had exited on three years before.  This time though, it didn't feel as triumphant.  Instead, I anguished in pain as I reflected on my failures.  I was certain this would be the last time I made this trip.  I was just too big to do this kind of thing.  Choosing the path to the left was almost as bad as being rescued; I just wanted it all to be over.  As we made our way down the trail, past the river, and saw the lake signifying we were near the end, I couldn't help, but be a little proud of what I had accomplished.  Although there were mishaps, there were also plenty of reasons to be pleased with what I was able to do at 294 pounds.  

Emotionally, this trip was quite different than my first trip through these mountains.  I had little faith
in my abilities and yet, I also knew that there weren't a lot of 300 pound people even attempting this feat.  I wanted to be strong for the two men that were travelling with me, but I wasn't nearly as strong as I had hoped.  It hurt so much to see myself as a failure in front of these two and taking the short-cut didn't help, but I doubt they ever saw me as a failure.  It's funny how differently we perceive ourselves from the way others see us.  Three years later, I can look back and see how they might have seen my journey as an inspiration, not a failure. 

Backpacking at 274 Pounds

Beginning of the trail - 2010

In 2010, at 274 pounds, my husband and I went on a six day 22 mile backpacking trip with nearly thirty pounds of gear strapped to our backs (okay, so his was probably more than 30 lbs).  Six years later, I remember the feeling of complete exhaustion.  In particular, I remember on day one, we were about half way to our destination when we stepped off the trail, removed our packs and boots, and rested our sweat soaked bodies on the bend of a river.  Removing my pack was one of the best feelings ever - my body felt like it was floating.  Our exuberance was quickly terminated when it was time to lace up our boots and strap our packs on again to finish our first day of hiking.  By the time we reached the lake where we would make camp, I could barely feel my feet/legs and I'm sure I had complained for at least the last two miles of the trek.  We made camp, ate what little food we could get down, and crashed for the night.  

The following morning, we packed up camp and headed over the pass.  Still exhausted from the previous day, we slowly climbed our way to the top.  Along the way, we were met with a horrific (yet oddly beautiful at that elevation) thunder and lightning storm and a downpour of rain, but as we reached the summit, the clouds parted, the sun shined through, and a rainbow appeared in the distance.  It was one of the most beautiful things I'd ever seen.  The view from the top made me feel as though I had just conquered the world.  Looking down over the basin, I felt as though I could do anything.  Yet, the descent into the basin would prove to be the hardest part of the entire trip.  By the time we reached our camp for day two, the pads of my feet (just behind my toes) and under my toenails were blistered and so sore I could barely walk.  At this point, I was overwhelmed with emotions, drained, and ready to quit.  I was certain I would have to be carried out by a rescue team.

On the third day, again we packed up camp and headed towards our next resting point.  I recall walking gingerly on the dirt path that cut through the luscious green grass surrounded by rock walls, quietly following my husband and taking in the complete silence and beauty that can only be found 8,000 feet above sea level; yet, grimacing with each step on my blistered feet.  As we made our way down the gradual trail, and walked through the opening of the hillsides, we peered down at another heavenly sight as we set eyes on the lake where we would be spending the next night.  It was a short hike which gave my feet some time to rest.  We spent the next two days, fishing, washing our clothes in the lake, and stowed away in our tent during down pours.  

Day four, we hiked to our next camp spot and here we enjoyed the warmth of a fire, fishing in the lake, and reminisced about our journey.  It was bitter sweet knowing that our adventure would soon be over.  While my feet were still riddled with pain, I knew that the connection my husband and I were making on this expedition could not be replaced.  We had been through so much together.  He pushed me both physically and emotionally to continue the journey when I thought it was impossible.  He reminded me that I was strong and capable of anything.  

On day five, we made our way to our final resting place.  On this night, we did not camp near a lake, but rather just off of the trail.  Here, we again enjoyed the warmth of a fire and savored the conversation.  We knew that the day ahead would be a long and tiresome one, but we wanted to make the most of our final night in the mountains.  

By day six, we were tired of dry tuna and pita pockets, but we were quite good at packing up camp quickly and efficiently and stuffing everything back into our packs.  For two people who had never been on an adventure like this one, we fared pretty well.  Did we need six days to do it?  Probably not, but it did give my feet a chance to heal along the way and it allowed us time to take hundreds of pictures, enjoy the scenery, and connect on a deeper level than ever before.  There was also something assuring in knowing that we had six days to complete this 22 mile adventure - if it weren't for that, I may have never gone.  

End of the trail - 2010

Our walk out that day was quiet and saddening in many ways, but it also felt intensely glorious.  We crossed a river by walking across some fallen trees, passed through a meadow, and meandered our way down the rocky trail which followed a river for much of the way.  Near the end, we caught glimpses of the lake and we knew we were getting close.  Although not as magnificent as the view from the summit or the view as we passed between the rocky hillsides, this view was also welcoming.  It meant our journey was ending and we we could almost taste the celebratory hamburger, fries, and coke that we would devour once we reached our endpoint.  

For me, hiking at 274 pounds was incredibly challenging both physically and mentally, but it was also empowering.  Throughout the entire trek, my husband reminded me repeatedly of how proud he was of me and how strong I was.  He would also point out that in all the times throughout the hike where we had passed people along the trail, never did we pass anyone as heavy as me (or even close) and we never saw a woman with a pack as full as mine.  Without him, I'm certain I would have turned around after the first two or three miles.  Although it was empowering, hiking 22 miles didn't make me want to be any healthier.  If anything, it made me feel like I was fine the way I was.  In fact, it might have diluted my obesity at least as seen through my eyes.