No Going Back

You can't ever go back. That sounds kind of sad, doesn't it? And I guess it could be if you're inclined to see things that way, but really what I want to talk about today is why that's always a good thing.

Yes, I said ALWAYS. 

I hear a lot of people talk about when they were thinner, stronger, faster, more mobile, ten feet tall, able to poop out rainbows, etc. The goal that they inevitably state when asked is always to 'get back to that body they used to have', or 'get back to Xlbs. I hear this from new moms in the gym all the time - 'must get back to my pre-pregnancy weight!'  -  and women who are bombarded with media which measures our worth by whether or not we fit into our wedding dresses at age 40 or whatever. Or for the dudes - if I had a loonie (not to be confused with looney, careful) for every working guy juggling the demands of career, family life, etc. who mournfully looks at his protruding gut and says 'I used to be an athlete/in shape/have a six-pack/eat whatever I wanted and never gain weight' I'd never have to work again. But I still would, in case any of you were wondering. 

Going back to a previous state sounds reasonable. I mean hell, if ever there was a non-threatening goal that's it; you know it's well within the realm of the possible because it happened already! Just the other day I even caught myself wistfully fantasizing about the body I had six months ago and thinking 'I just want to go back to where my clothes fit me again...' 

And then I literally dropped what I was doing on the floor out of shock (it was just laundry, nothing got broken) and gave myself an attitude adjustment on the spot.

I have to tell you a story. It's a little bit personal and may be TMI but bear with me for a minute.

Last year was a really really bad year. Lots of life-changing, traumatic events happened and my world view will be a little different forever because of it. Without getting into the grisly details of all that stuff, because my story for today is about after all that mess, when the ashes started floating down to the ground and it was time to try and gain some sense of normality, I began to notice that normality was not the only thing I was gaining. My work uniform started to feel constricting. My pants were shrinking. I tried to ignore it - I was still working out, still doing everything the way I had always done...but pretty soon I couldn't ignore it any more and I remember very clearly the day I finally stepped on the scale in order to quantify the damage.

I had gained 32.6lbs in three months.

The upshot of all this is that after a series of doctors' appointments and tests and blood work, it was finally established that I had suffered a considerable hormone 'crash', partly due to stress and partly due to a previously diagnosed condition. So, now there is a treatment plan in place, but because the laws of physics are some mean bitches I still have to create an energy deficit and use sensible nutrition and exercise in order to get past this.

Ha. Notice how I did NOT say 'get back to where I was?' Yes, I would like very much for my clothes to fit again, but whether or not I get back to my previous weight, I will be different. My body will be different. Every mile, every rep, every experience changes us and changes our bodies as well. I could gain and lose 40lbs any number of times and it would be different every time. There's no going backward.

Only forward. 

And that's a good thing.