Finished Being Fat: An Accidental Adventure in Losing Weight and Learning How to Finish (19 page)

That didn’t save Jarom from my scathing looks that promised retribution. It did not go unnoticed either that he quickly finished his lunch and went to the front to hike with Jay. Humph, good thing I knew where he lived.

I forced my feet to continue forward, and make no mistake, it was forced. During the marathon, I had found pockets of magic and generally had fun. This was just miserable. I didn’t enjoy the arduous hiking over granite, didn’t like tripping over it either. For the most part I kept my opinions to myself. After all, I was a guest on this hike and didn’t want to sound like an obnoxious brat full of whiny complaints. My mind stayed busy thinking of all the things I would make Jarom do when we got home. He owed me big time, and I was keeping score with every stumble.

The last bit before the peak was no longer hiking; it was true climbing. As in scrambling up and around huge slabs of granite bigger than my car… without ropes. Go figure that the spot with most danger and biggest chance of actual dying, was the only time I had fun. All my yoga and strength training was paying off, because I was easily surpassing the rest of the group with my increased flexibility and arm strength. I was able to take shortcuts that Jarom couldn’t because I could get my leg much higher on the rock.

And then we were there, the top of the world. Or at least the top of mine. According to Wikipedia, Lone Peak is 11,253 feet in elevation and usually requires one to two days for this difficult hike. (Why didn’t I think to look up that info before?!) The view was breathtaking. I couldn’t pick out the tiny speck that was my house from here, but I knew that the view from my back window was forever altered. Now I could look out and see Lone Peak and picture me standing on top. Getting here had sucked, but it was still so worth it. I wanted to jump up and down, but given the precarious nature of the highest rock, I decided that was a bad idea. The four of us took pictures, and I forgave Jarom for tricking me and let him pose next to me. Had I known what lay in store for me, I never would have come. But now I was really glad that I had.

Jarom had been semi correct, as in it took us nearly six hours to reach the peak. It’s not fair that we spent that much time to get there and only got to spend ten minutes at the top before heading back. And therein lies the problem inherent in mountain climbing. I had reached the top, finished my goal, and I was done and ready to go home. But now I had to do it all over again, in reverse. It’s like running a marathon, crossing the finish line, and then running back to the start to pick up your car. Whoever said its easier going downhill than uphill lied. Or at least that was the case for me. My hamstring and knee really did not like going down. I think it was a combination of the angle and trying to control my descent so I wasn’t racing down or tumbling down end over end.

It was my personal hell. I was afraid of falling since I had so much experience with it. Most other hikes Jarom had forced me on, I had scooted down on my bum and ripped my pants open, but I really liked these pants, and I was much farther up that I had ever been before. There was no guarantee that once I started sliding I would stop. Every time that I lost my footing and slid down a few feet, my heart would pound, and tears would well in my eyes. The others were little mountain goats and far ahead of me. Jarom, more often than not, would come back and check on me, but on the return trip I was largely alone.

To chase away the thoughts of crashing to the jagged rocks below, I thought about what an awesome year I’d had. I’d gone from a big fat nobody, to smaller somebody, to realizing I had been a somebody all along, even if it was a fat somebody. My life was so much better. A year ago I didn’t believe I was capable of doing anything, and look at me now. I had climbed one of the tallest mountains on the Wasatch Front. Now I just needed to survive getting down.

The old me would have been concerned about how long I was taking, as in much longer than the rest of my group. I would have beat myself up and felt bad for holding them up. Then I would have attempted to go faster and probably fallen and broken something in the process. New me realized that I didn’t have to worry about anyone but me. I was doing the best that I could to ensure I finished safely and that was enough.

I was technically the same person as I was a year ago, my DNA hadn’t changed, but the way I viewed the world and my place in it had. No longer did I see the world in black and white, looking for perfection and then spiraling into a depression when I didn’t find it. I didn’t need to be the best anymore; I just needed to finish. I will most likely never win a race, but that fact shouldn’t stop me from running it anyway.

And that’s when everything I had learned came together into one sentence. I like to call it my Philosophy of Finishing: Not everyone can win the race, but everyone can finish it. Never again would I quit because I was afraid of what the world—or my little voice—might say. I could look fear in the eye and point to the mountain of finishes that was building up in the back of my mind and yell, “I can do it! I’m awesome!”

Eleven hours (six hours my foot) and one black toenail (downward pressure pushes on the nail, causing it to injure and fall off) after I started up the rocky path, I returned to the car. I’m not sure which I was more proud of honestly—making it the top or making it back down with my pants intact. Either way, I had another hard task under my belt. No one was at the car to give me a finisher medal this time. But I gave one to myself. It’s the mental image of Jarom’s face at the top of the mountain. He was so proud that, for the first time, I had actually made it all the way to the top with him. That I was able to share something that meant so much to him was all the reward I needed. Well, maybe a hot bath too.

T
here was no “now what?” moment or letdown the next day (although my toenail did fall off) because the hike down had given me the direction that I was going to take for the rest of my life. I officially had a new way of living. I was no longer a follower of the Path of Whatever is Easiest, but I was a subscriber to the Philosophy of Finishing. Heck, I was the charter member. But I wasn’t going to live it alone. The more I shared my stories with friends and family, the more my little lessons started seeping into their lives as well. By the time we ran the marathon, the conversion had already begun.

Naturally Jarom was the first aside from me to start living the Principles of Finishing. I had mentioned earlier that Jarom was going back to school. What I didn’t elaborate on was that he was going back to college at the age of thirty-five after a ten-year sabbatical. Not finishing a degree was one of Jarom’s greatest regrets in life. For the past nine years or so we had discussed the possibility of him going back, but he would always inevitably decide that with a full-time job and now kids, there just wasn’t enough time. Then there was coming up with tuition. It would be too hard. He would have to take night classes and then only a few a semester. It would take forever. And of course the longer the “break” from school lasted, the more difficult it was to see himself amongst the other, younger students.

But this time, when the semiannual discussion about whether or not he should enroll that semester came up about a month prior to the marathon, it went a little differently. Instead of starting with “I’d really like to get my degree, but I just don’t think it’s really plausible,” now he said to me, “I want to get my degree. Will you help me figure out to do that?” Hallelujah, he had seen the light. So after the kids went to sleep, we sat down and discussed the logistics and what we were realistically looking at. All the obstacles from previous discussions were there plus a few more. With the economy and the job market in its current state, we were making less than before, working longer hours, and had less job security to boot. But this was something that was really important to him. This was his thud moment. He had never been fat, but he could no longer live with the weight of the unfinished degree hanging over his head. Using everything we had learned recently, we made a plan to make it work. This was not going to be a one and done kind of thing. Working around a full-time job meant a few classes at a time, lasting probably six semesters. But Jarom and I were now the masters of finishing hard things at a slow pace. As long as he kept checking those classes off the required to graduate list, he would earn his degree eventually. And he would get it faster than if never went back at all.

He is going to get his degree, and we decided together that we wouldn’t let anything stand in the way of that. Paying for tuition and books meant taking a long hard look at how much those extra cable channels and dinners out were worth. But the money just wasn’t a good enough excuse to keep him from what he wants to do. There is never a good excuse to keep you from what you really want, is there? And Jarom decided he really wanted it. He signed up for the classes he could fit into his schedule, met with his (younger than him) academic advisor, and started attending classes.

It certainly wasn’t easy for him. He struggled with his old nemesis—procrastination. And he fights a battle with social anxiety disorder every time he has to go to campus.

But he does it. Because he can do hard things. And I am happy to report that at the end of 2011 he got an associate of science degree, and now he’s pressing on for his bachelor’s degree in biology.

Sometimes it can be difficult to see the change in ourselves, but I am amazed daily at the positive changes I can see in my family. I am starting early with my kids and teaching them that they need to finish what they start. While that can sometimes be difficult with the attention span of a four-year-old and two-year-old, they are getting it. It’s really nice on the everyday little things because they know that if a toy comes out to play, you’re not done playing until it goes back in the toy chest. That makes my formerly frequently stubbed toes very happy.

Autumn is too little to grasp the finer points of finishing, but I think Lily has without really meaning too. All I used to hear out of that little preschooler was “I can’t do it. It’s too hard. I’m not any good at it.” But now that she is working on finishing, there’s a little hill of proof in the back of her mind too. When she starts to get anxious about something, I remind her of all the things she’s done and that whatever it is we are attempting will be a piece of cake because she’s SuperLily. It’s like a veil lifting from her eyes; you can see the light go on and the wheels turn and all of a sudden she’s not afraid to try any more.

Before the thud, my marriage wasn’t bad, but it’s certainly better now. I’m sure Jarom would never say this (out loud) but I think it has helped not having to hear me sob every time I hop on the scale. Or listen to me complain about what I can’t eat. Or worry about coming up with the right answer to the age-old question, “Does this make me look fat?” I think we are happier as a couple because finishing has made us happier as individuals. He no longer beats himself up about the unfinished kitchen since one of the things he’s learned is that he can only do so much at once. And for him that’s keeping a steady job, finishing school, and being a good husband and father. And then, most important, letting the things that aren’t at the top of the list go for now. A big part of finishing is picking the right goal and focusing on that.

That’s something I learned too. My to-do list is long. It looks a little something like this.

1.
Write book

2.
Potty train Autumn

3.
Organize entire house

4.
Run marathon uninjured

5.
Climb the highest peaks in every county in Utah (Jarom’s idea obviously)

6.
Sew fat clothes quilt with minimal amount of blood loss

7.
Learn to cook without burning the house down (that one may very well be impossible… we’ll see]

8.
Get a bachelor’s degree

9.
Start playing piano again

10.
Learn to play bass guitar

Now if I try to do all those things by next year, I would probably fail miserably. For everything there is a season, and my calendar says it’s not time for a lot of those. So I picked the ones that are really important to me, such as one and two—because I am
sooo
done with poopy diapers—and focus my energies on those.

But a big part of the Philosophy of Finishing is in the little everyday details. After all, you can’t do huge life-altering things everyday, can you? That would be exhausting. But I take all the lightbulb lessons I’ve learned and use them in my day-to-day life. I make sure the girls and I finish something every day. (If Lily has her way, it usually involves paint and sparkles.) I stopped estimating the waist size (and bra size) of the girl standing next to me in the checkout line. Old photos don’t make me want to cry anymore, and I can pass by the mirror without tossing my hairbrush at it.

I don’t yell at myself anymore on the days where it’s all I can do to get the kids safely though the day without throttling them. Now that I am in control of my life, I can decide which days I need to go slow and which days I can do it all. Fear doesn’t own me now. I’m not afraid of some big cosmic smackdown coming to knock me off my course. If an obstacle pops up in my way, I know I’ll find a way around it, over it, or dig a freaking tunnel under it if I have to. Whatever it takes to finish.