3000 miles

Remember how I said I wanted to "walk" from Iowa to California on my fitbit?  Well hooray for me! Got my 3000 mile badge yesterday.  No wonder my feet hurt.  Wasn't there a terrible Nicholas Cage movie in the early 2000's called "3000 Miles to Graceland"?

Been putting the finishing touches on my home gym the last few days.  It's coming together pretty well. I have a stepper, agility ladder, kickboxing bag, jump rope, free weights, stability ball, medicine ball and yoga mats for crunches, squat stations and so on.  I think it's going to be awesome.

Airplane victories

There was a time when I flew a lot and I hated it.  If you've ever been overweight and traveling on a plane, you can surely relate.  If you haven't been, rejoice in that.  Airplane aisles are tiny.  Even "normal" size people often have to turn sideways to make their way down them.  Seats are piled on top of each other and a person that is overweight can't help but "spill" onto the people next to them.  Middle seats suck the worst, then aisle.  I always requested a window seat if I had a choice.  Also, there is the issue of seat belts.  It wasn't that long ago that I found myself in tears on a plane, literally shoving and willing my fat to jiggle into a mold that would allow the seat belt to fit without requesting an extension.  I believe it is one of the most humiliating things one can go through. Or worse, if they charge you for two seats on a place because you are too big.  I never had to pay for two seats but I did have many times where I could barely buckle my belt.  I remember once having a snarky size 2 stewardess tell me very loudly that she could go get me an extension. The other passengers watched me, some with pity, some with disgusts as I jammed myself into that seat belt, barely able to breath. I refused to get an extension.  Even though I'm over 100 pounds smaller now, I still feel that anxiety when I go to get on a plane.  Old habits die hard, I guess.  When I left for my work trip on Monday, I was very pleasantly surprised when I went to buckle up for safety.  It not only fit, but the excess seat belt flowed to my knee.  I had a good 6 or so inches of seat belt left over.  It was an amazing feeling.  

While away for work I was sure to work every day on getting my steps.  Monday night it was storming and I was 1500 short so I walked in place in my hotel room until I got my 10,000 steps and then did some crunches before bed.  Tuesday I did one of my afternoon conference calls from the treadmill in the hotel gym.  I walked to and from dinner. I walked around the building on breaks. And then, IT happened. My fitbit battery died!  Yes, it died and I forgot to pack my charger with me.  Oh the horror, right?  It died at 9371 steps for the day.  So even though I know I got well over 10,000 steps yesterday, it will not show it in my app or on the leader board. And today will be a big fat zero.  Yes, I'm obsessed with my fitbit.  And yes, there are worse obsessions I could have.  I will make sure not to travel without packing my charger again, that's for sure.  And hopefully next time I travel, I won't feel like I'm battling pneumonia.  

As I sit here in the airport, I don't have anxiety about boarding the plane to go home.  I know the seat belt will fit fine.  And my body will be comfortable in the seat.  I can't wait to get home and back to my routine, work, workouts, preparing my own food, walking with my friends and sleeping in my own bed.  Is it heaven? No, it's Iowa.  And there's no place like home.  

That lady's secret

It’s a lovely Sunday night in Des Moines.  Just unwinding from a fun filled weekend back home with my family.  Unpacking my bags and repacking them for a business trip the next few days.  There will definitely be challenges ahead since that will make one full week out of my routine of workouts and packing my own food every day.  Not to mention last week was the Iowa State Fair.  Whoa is me.  Monday I enjoyed some cheese curds and half a gyro.  Tuesday I managed to spend the afternoon at the fair without eating any fair food.  We are chalking that up as a total win.  The good thing about wondering around the fair and doing scavenger hunts for work, is that I got lots and lots of steps.  I know the next few days will entail lots of eating out and catered food but all I can do is make the best food choices possible while I’m gone and try to hit the gym at the hotel a few times or explore the city by foot. 

As I have already disclosed on here I’m currently going through a divorce.  No, please don’t say you’re sorry.  I’m not.  Nothing could be closer to the best thing for me.  Sometimes, no matter how much you may love a person, you have to wake up and realize that they are quicksand.  I finally pulled myself out and have found peace and joy.  To commemorate the impending divorce, I decided to get a tattoo.  I know, really, Lyndee?  The girl that thought tattoos were “so gross” just inked her 4^th one.  I put it on my arm so that I could read it every day.  It’s a message that has rang true for me not only through the divorce, but also with my weight loss, work, writing...really any goal I’ve set for myself.  It’s an infinite symbol that says “she believed she could…so she did”.  Because we all know that I’m a very big fan of believing anything is possible and if you work hard and do the right thing, good will come your way.  So this is my forever mantra that will be with me until I’m no longer.  I really love it.  And my super supportive and awesome BFF got a matching one as well.  Which makes it even more special. 

Today I had a near panic attack at the mall.  I had to go buy bras.  I dread shopping like no one’s business.  But my friends convinced me that I had to go get some new bras and they had to be quality.  As any woman knows, the "girls" are often the first to go when it comes to weight loss.  It’s not TMI, it’s just the facts.  So anyway, Molly pushes me towards that overly pink store the world refers to as Victoria’s Secret.  I’ve never been able to buy anything in this store.  Ever.  To me this is a skinny person store and the sales ladies kind of freak me out.  But that’s an entirely different blog post all together.  Anyway, I go to Victoria’s…by myself…and the first worker does what I expected and kind of gives me the “what is she doing in here” look as if to say, she must be buying perfume and not undergarments.  I actually turned to leave when a different sales lady blocked my exit with big brown excited eyes.  “Hey, sweetie, how can I help you today?”  Oh crap.  I’m cornered like a honey badger.  I debate pushing the half-naked mannequin on top of her and jolting for the door but instead I suck it up and tell her I need to get measured for a bra.  She takes me back, measures, runs away and before I know it, she is shooting my size bras over the dressing room door like a crazy person. Can we say sensory overload?  I try on the first one and I have to admit, it’s nice.  In fact, it’s awesome.  Then I look at the price tag and nearly faint.  Yeah, I’m cheap.  I try what seemed like a dozen different styles, make my selection and exit the dressing room.  I successfully survived my first shopping experience at Victoria’s Secret.  Today is a total victory.