Val Muller

It’s midway through the year, late enough that the novelty of “weight loss” and “fitness” resolutions has worn off. For those of you who stuck to it—great! And keep it up!

For those of you who didn’t, I’m writing this post to hope to encourage you to get back on the fitness wagon. I want to share my ongoing fitness journey as a way to inspire others. In September 2014, my husband and I decided to lose weight (and I decided to get back in shape). We started with the goal of losing a collective 100 pounds, assuming it would take the bulk of a year to do so. So far, we’ve lost 96 pounds collectively, and we are close to our goal.

I feel a million times better—more energetic, more confident, and more powerful—than I have for years. I wish I could share the feeling with everyone.

So many people have asked me “what’s the secret?” For those wondering how we are doing it, it’s simple, but it’s not easy. In short, it’s a lifestyle change.

First, a bit of my history.

In middle school, I was chunky. My doctor told my mother to “watch it.” Whatever my genetics are, my metabolism is “efficient,” meaning I can basically take a jelly bean and turn it into a pound of fat. Great for cavemen scrounging around for food. Bad for people who live in a society such as ours—privileged to be surrounded by food almost all the time.

In high school, I took to running track (distance) and cross country. I lost weight (lots of weight), broke several schools records, earned several medals, and ran the mile in five and a half minutes. I could eat Taco Bell on the way home from practice and still be hungry enough to eat two helpings at dinner. Here is a picture of me from prom. Very toothpicky:

Things were okay through college and even grad school. Though I stopped running freshman year, I kept in shape. I ran frequently, loved to rollerblade, and maintained a healthy weight. Sure, I no longer looked like the toothpick I was in high school, but I was healthy.

Then, rushing down the stairs at the start of an Easter holiday, I slid down the last three steps laden with a suitcase, a duffel bag, and a box. The carpet on those stairs was slightly loose, and I was going too fast. I tried to stop myself by jamming my leg straight out, catching my weight—and the weight of all the luggage I carried. The good news: I stopped myself from falling down the stairs. The terrible news: I seriously damaged my knee.

I thought it was just a sprain, but when the injury kept getting better-worse-better-worse, I finally went in for an MRI. I had a partial tear of the ACL. By that time, I hadn’t been able to do enough exercise to get my heart rate up—for about 7 months. During physical therapy (it was suggested I do physical therapy, not surgery, as it was only a partial tear), it was a challenge for me to walk on the treadmill backwards and at an incline. I tried to run after the physical therapy, but it felt like someone had slashed the back of my knee with a knife. I biked, but I didn’t have enough roads to safely ride as fast and far as was required to get enough exercise.

The years added up, and so did the pounds. My knee went through the better-worse-better-worse pattern for several years, and it kept me from exercising to the extent I needed to. But my eating habits stayed the same.

The pounds added up.

Making a Decision

This takes me back to September of last year, when my husband and I decided to get back in shape. I needed to lose 50 pounds to get back to the relatively healthy weight I had been before tearing my ACL. And being honest with myself, I could probably lose up to 70 and still look and feel healthy. But I set my first goal at 50 and decided to re-evaluate when I got there.

We didn’t use any fancy weight plans or anything like that. We went with a straight calorie deficit plan, using MyFitnessPal, a free app and a website that helps keep track of daily calories and goals. As I said, simple but not easy. I’m not a fitness expert, so I’m not endorsing anything. I’m just sharing what worked for me. MyFitnessPal calculates the number of calories each individual needs to lose, maintain, or gain weight based on the details each user inputs, such as weight, height, activity level, and goal.

The first two weeks were the worst. We were shocked at the number of calories in things we ate every day—especially things that were low fat but heavy in calories. We assumed pizza was unhealthy because of all the cheese—but it turns out, the carbs are the big calorie culprit there. So we reevaluated our eating habits, made some changes, learned what filled us and what left us hungry. In short, we upped lean proteins and cut carbohydrates. We ate fats moderately (the calories contained in fats act like a police force anyway, insuring we don’t eat too much fat) and limited sugars. For the first two weeks, I literally felt hunger pains. But when my stomach got used to the amount of food we should have actually been eating, it became easier.

Eating and Cooking

For “go-to” meals, we grilled chicken breast every Monday so we’d have them for lunches or dinners when we needed something quick, lean, and full of protein. Each Sunday night, I boiled eggs so we had them for breakfast—a grab-and-go protein with reasonable calories. We made sure to have ripe bananas and apples around for when we got hungry. We planned lunches, starting with a protein and building a filling but low-calorie salad around them. For desserts (which we didn’t eat but a few times a week), we bought packages of pre-shaped cookie dough. We carefully counted how many calories we had left at the end of each day, and if we had any available, we baked only that number of cookies to insure we didn’t over-eat. Allowing us a few cookies here and there helped to prevent cravings. We learned that things like tea or hot chocolate were better than a few scoops of ice cream. We bought packages of those “steamer” vegetables—the ones already mixed that you just pop in the microwave. We learned which pre-packaged chicken or fish meals were healthy and which were high in sodium. In short, we made sure our refrigerator was much more convenient than running out for fast food.

Celebrating losing 40 earlier this year with… 40 pounds of potatoes!

Exercise

My husband is not a big fan of exercise. He was able to lose a lot of weight without worrying about exercise—simply counting calories. Only recently—after the easy weight came off—has he started to exercise more regularly. He even admitted that exercise makes him feel healthier and younger. He has been sick rarely since losing weight.

Because of my fitness background, I missed being in shape. For me, this journey has been more about getting back in shape (and feeling strong!) than about the number on the scale. I am not officially endorsing any of the exercise programs I used; I am simply stating what worked for me.

I started with a DVD I found in our collection, Jillian Michael’s 30-Day Shred. I was astounded at how difficult the “level 1” workout was for me—doing jump rope and jumping jacks for a full two minutes killed my calves. It took me about three weeks of doing level 1 (a 20-minute workout) every day before I got in shape and started getting bored. I spent another 2-3 weeks on level 2 and then moved on to level 3. My 16-year-old self would have been ashamed at how far I’d allowed myself to go.

I saw changes in my body after the first few weeks. Definition seeped back in—slowly. After making it to level 3, I changed it up, alternating in Billy Blanks’ Tae Bo (I had done Tae Bo for years in college, and I have several DVDs) and finally stepping up my weight training to include Les Mill’s Pump. After losing about 20 pounds, I was thrilled to realize that my knee no longer hurt anymore—at all.

After all of those exercises became easy, I started Les Mills Combat, a series of intense mixed martial arts moved that helps my heart pump and my muscles build. When weather permitted, I ran. The weight loss helped, and strengthening the muscles did, too. Even though the numbers on the scale weren’t going down as quickly as they were those first few months, my clothes were fitting much more loosely. I went through boxes of clothes I had packed up years ago—and kept in hopes of being able to fit them again.

And I can!

It fits again. Like going back in time…

The best feeling was on Thanksgiving of last year. I had forgotten my jacket, and several family members wanted to go on a short walk to visit some historical areas near the place we were eating. My parents each had brought two jackets—one winter-weight which they wore and one lighter-weight in the car. It was cold enough that I knew I’d have to layer each of their lighter jackets to stay warm. My father is very tall, and his jackets are huge on me, but my mother wears a medium. I had worn XL for years. I tried on her medium jacket and was thrilled when it fit! It even zipped up with some room to spare. I don’t know how many minutes the smile stayed on my face.

Feeling Great

But it’s not just about what fits or what doesn’t, or even how I look. For me, my fitness journey is about how I feel. I feel more energetic, even when I am tired. Getting up and doing physical work no longer feels like a chore. My posture has improved. Even though I am a writer, I honestly cannot put into words how great I feel now that I am getting back in shape. And feeling great communicates non-verbally to others, boosting self-confidence and others’ perception of you. Again, it’s not just about looks; it’s about an overall package. An energy.

If you are thinking about losing weight or getting back in shape (or getting in shape for the first time), I want to encourage you to do so. Start by taking a good look at what you eat. And there’s no such thing as getting away with cheating. If you eat an extra candy bar and don’t record it, you’re only cheating yourself. If you work out for 30 minutes but don’t put in any effort, you are the only one who isn’t going to see the results you want.

The point is not to deny yourself a candy bar once in a while, but the point is to be aware of what you are eating, and how many calories you should be eating. If you’re going out to eat, take a look at the nutrition information on the restaurant’s websites. Chances are, you’ll be shocked. Many meals contain more than a day’s worth of calories. More and more restaurants, though, are coming up with “healthy” menus that are fairly tasty and quite filling. Living in America, it’s not easy to eat healthy. The cheapest and most convenient options are loaded with calories (and usually pack little nutritional value), but eating healthy is possible. It might take a little extra planning, but healthy eating is possible.

The end? No… the beginning!

And you don’t have to be good all the time. Once in a while, to keep my metabolism burning, I splurge, going above my max calorie count for the day. I usually don’t feel too great afterwards, a reminder to listen to my body.

But overall, I feel great most of the time now—even when I’m sick, I feel healthier than I felt when I was heavy. Give yourself the best gift you can: the gift of health. If you need encouragement, please send an email my way. I’ve been through frustrating weeks of hitting that “plateau” and wanting to quit, but I toughed it out, and you should, too. It’s a simple decision, but it isn’t easy. Stick to it, though. You’ll be glad you did.

A tiny baby bird, watching the chaos in total zen.

It’s spirit week at my school, meaning the students dress up as a theme each day. Wednesday was “zoo day,” and as a teacher balancing end-of-year projects, standardized testing, makeup work, and end-of-year “excitement,” I feel some days like a zookeeper.

We also just finished reading The Life of Pi, a story in which the protagonist thrives in telling stories, many involving the human-like qualities of animals. The novel highlights the sense of wonder the protagonist experiences at the grand design of the universe. This week, I found my own “wonder” as I got to enjoy my own “zoo” of sorts.

Imagine: it’s a cool night, the humidity finally low, and I’m propped on a rock retaining wall, pulling stubborn new shoots of Rose of Sharon out of the garden. Yesterday’s rain had softened the soil, and it’s easier work than usual. My two corgis are sitting in the grass, calmly sniffing the air.

I’m pulling weeds indiscriminately, throwing them into a pile behind me. I’m trying to be careful, stay clean. A particularly tough shoot of Rose of Sharon sends a speck of dirt into my eye. It wedges between my contact lens and my eyelid. I should have known; it was a sign.

Go inside. Watch TV.

But I ignore it. It’s too nice out, and besides, I’m a weeding maniac. I had set out to weed only one-third of the garden, but things are going so well, I might just finish the whole thing!

All is well until a chirping of birds crescendos. Leia and Yoda take off, and nature’s peaceful symphony is ruptured, replaced by squawks and squeals.

Startled, I jump from the retaining wall. Covered in dirt, wearing gloves, and dropping gardening shears along the wall, I hurry to find the corgis circling a rather large baby bird that is plopped in the middle of the driveway. I have no idea how it got there.

Dear Human: There is a dog nearby. Please help.

The bird’s parents circle the dogs overhead, chirping alarm. Yoda, the good dog, backs off right away, eyeing the situation from afar. The bad one, Leia, ever curious, continues circling the bird, getting within millimeters of it, her nose vibrating. The bird reacts by spreading its wings, screeching, a technique that serves only to increase Leia’s curiosity.

I push myself between Leia and the bird, staring down at it. It calms immediately, looking up at me as if—almost as if it expects me to do something helpful. But it looks so fragile, I’m afraid to pick it up.

My commands mean nothing to Leia, and though she’s never hurt an animal (well, okay, there was that mouse that one time), I don’t want the bird to have a heart attack or anything (can birds have heart attacks?).

Parent birds swooping near Leia do nothing to discourage the corgi.

Perplexed and frustrated, but also very curious about the bird, I cease my unheeded commands and grab the corgi, still wearing my gardening gloves. I bring the dogs inside, and an amused husband commences to start a photo session, documenting the plight of the driveway bird. Turns out, it was in the middle of a not-very-successful-flying-lesson. Upon further investigation, he finds two tiny (really really tiny) baby birds just hanging out silently in a bush. They seem indifferent to everything happening, and even our camera (and finger, see photo—for size comparison purposes) don’t seem to bother them.

The parent birds continue squawking at their offspring, guiding it through clumsy flutters into another densely-weeded garden (guess I won’t be weeding that one anytime soon), and I continue weeding.

The baby bird manages to plop-flutter to a nearby garden. Almost safe!

I stuff the pile of weeds into one of those brown paper yard waste bags and head inside. My first instinct is to shower, but the dogs are wound up, so I change my pants into shorts and cuddle with the dogs for a bit first. I marvel at the wonder of the interactions among three unlikely species.

I learn only later that one of those “weeds” was actually poison ivy. My arms continue to break out, and even my legs, which had been covered, start to itch. I realize too late that when I grabbed Leia with my gloved hands, I probably spread a bit of poison ivy oil onto her coat, which then spread back onto me when we cuddled. She has now been bathed, as have all the clothes.

Still, it was an interesting night. I learned that a human can’t frighten a bird, a bird can’t intimidate a dog, a crazy dog can’t be made to listen to a human, and Mother Nature always gets the last laugh.

Oh, and thank goodness for calamine lotion.

In The Kite Runner, protagonist Amir’s mother dies during childbirth in pre-war-torn Afghanistan. With the one-sided perspective of his father (physical strength! business prowess!), Amir’s childhood has the potential to be nightmarish. But Amir finds the role of “mother” filled by a male business associate of his father, a man who encourages Amir to write stories even though Amir’s father doesn’t approve. In the end, the support of Rahim Khan, the mother-figure, drives Amir to find redemption and fulfillment. Like most “mothers,” Rahim Khan saw Amir’s potential and helped him find ways to grow into that potential, nurturing him and directing him.

For this Friday’s post—and in honor of Mother’s Day last Sunday—I wanted to write a tribute to mothers and mother figures everywhere.

I invited my mother to my house on Sunday. The plan was to go out to lunch and then grab some ice cream. While walking around my yard, Mom saw a pile of weeds I’d recently pulled—I was battling a climbing vine-beast that was threatening to kill a lavender bush. Of course, in typical mother fashion, Mom spent most of the day pulling weeds from my garden. I never asked her to—she just kind of started in a matter-of-fact way: there are weeds to be pulled, so I am going to pull them. At one point, she asked to borrow a t-shirt and sunscreen. That was the extent of her request. Mom is petite, but I watched as she pulled tenacious vines and hauled large branches across the yard. I often think of myself as tough as a tiger. Now I see where I get that from. It was such a beautiful day that I realize Mom wouldn’t have wanted to spend Mother’s Day anywhere but outside. The ice cream was well-deserved by all that evening.

When I was at Giant early Sunday morning, picking up groceries for the week, the place was packed, but there were really only two other grocery shoppers. Both were women, both had carts full of food, and both shopped at an “efficient pace.” The rest of the shoppers were men—many with young children in tow—who walked around the store slowly, uncertainly. They didn’t know which aisles contained which items. It was clear that grocery shopping was not a familiar activity for them. Most of them ended up in the greeting card aisle—after flocking to one of the many flower displays around the store. At the speedy checkout line, most of them had three things: a card, flowers, and a dessert.

At first I thought: I’d much rather have my husband actually do the grocery shopping for me than pick up flowers and dessert. But then I thought: how much would I have to explain to him about the types and amount of groceries I normally buy? Watching some of the men stumble around the store, I realized it might be the same for many. The men buying flowers were simply looking for a way to recognize their wives for all they do and have done.

I’m not saying all women are “good” at shopping for groceries and all men are terrible at it. During normal grocery visits, I often see men with loaded-up carts of food. “Mother figures” are not limited by gender or age. Mother figures are those who somehow manage to keep everything together for everyone else, regardless of what happens. They make sure there’s food on the table. They make sure there’s a hug to be given—literally or figuratively. They know which strings to pull, which strings to tighten, which strings to cut or to tie. They offer the right encouragement at the right time. Like Rahim Khan, they can literally change the course of someone’s life.

Like the men fumbling around in the grocery store, I often find it’s difficult to find a meaningful way to thank my mother—and all the teachers and friends who have acted as mother figures from time to time. Mothers do so much for us. Like my mother demonstrated with last week’s weeding, serving others just seems to be in their blood. They look out for their loved ones unprovoked. I’ve always told Mom that a bouquet of flowers simply could never do justice to the gratefulness in my heart. The flowers and cards and desserts are just symbols—superficial things that barely scratch the surface of reciprocating the ways our mothers and mother figures have touched and shaped our lives.

Even though I am a writer, I feel that these words are not much different from those flowers and those cards and that colorfully-decorated cake. They reflect the right sentiment, but there is depth these words cannot capture, and I think many of us feel the same way.

And so I’ll leave today’s post with this: to all the mothers, mother-in-laws, mother figures, moms to four-legged fur-children—thank you for all that you do. You change the world in ways that words simply cannot express, but know that the world is better for your presence. And that’s something to celebrate.

There are just some concepts in life that language cannot capture. And the gratefulness we feel toward our mothers just happens to be one of them.