In January, cutting back to 1200 calories a day was kind of a shock to my carb loving metabolism. I won't lie, those first couple of weeks were kind of a drag when I would tally up my daily calories and see how far over the limit I would be if I had kept to my previous eating habits. When I made the decision to really put my mind to getting healthy I knew what I was in for, but that didn't make the reality of the sacrifice any less daunting.
Being held accountable for what you stuff into your maw kind of makes it easier to make the right choices. For example, if I know that I'm getting awfully close to my daily limit and it's too late in the night to run off even more calories, it is easier to say "no!" to that cookie taunting me in the cupboard. Even just this past Tuesday (and Wednesday - geez people) when co-workers brought in paczkis for Mardi Gras, I was able to walk by the doughnut box without a second glance because I knew that I wouldn't want to starve for lunch. Which is exactly what I would have to do if I scarfed down a couple hundred calories of the glazed, jelly-filled variety.
All of this focused restraint has rewarded me well. The ounces steadily fell off and I was making progress. It was exciting to step on the bathroom scale every morning and see that I was actually getting somewhere. And Then It Stopped. I have hit the dreaded plateau. I knew that this moment would come, but I hadn't expected it after a mere ten pounds. I'm still so very far from my weight loss goal and I honestly thought that the last FIVE pounds were going to be my Everest. I can choose to look at the hiccup in my plans in a negative light, but really why bother? What this stall in progress really means is that I'm much healthier than I was 2 months ago. The reason I'm not losing any weight is because those daily 3 miles no longer challenge my body. I can't sacrifice any calories unless I want to be anorexic, so this means I have to rise to the challenge and amp up my training. While this sounds good in theory, in actuality it may be more of a challenge due to constant flux of arctic bitter cold, and taunting balmy melt-off that is March in Northern Michigan. This means so many more hours on the treadmill - groan. But it will all be worth it, right?!