I started this blog because up until a couple of months ago, I never believed it was truly possible that I could change my life.
I was stuck in a lifestyle of unhealthy eating patterns and little physical activity, and nothing about it seemed to change for the better, year in and year out. I viewed myself as fundamentally and irrevocably different from all those people who went to the gym regularly or did yoga or knew what the calories of anything at all were. And I never felt in my heart like I had the power to change anything serious about my health, my fitness, or my lifestyle.
And all this finally ended one long night at the beginning of March. But I have to back up a little bit. My mother has had adult-onset diabetes since I was in early high school. She let it get out of hand for many years, remaining in denial about the consequences of not getting exercise, not testing blood sugars, and not controlling her diet. She got sicker and sicker over the years, and now, still in her mid-60’s, is in very rough shape.
In March, my mother was hospitalized for congestive heart failure, and I traveled to see her for the weekend. The trip took a serious emotional toll, and in the midst of our family’s crisis, a little voice nagged at me, in the back of my head, saying something I very much did not want to hear.
Finally, one evening as the monitors beeped, my mother, from her hospital bed, said five words I didn’t want to hear: “Don’t end up like me.” “I’m worried about you,” she said. “Lose some weight and get some exercise.” I was too choked up to respond.
The night I returned home to Boston I tossed and turned in my bed until three in the morning, crying and turning over and over all the experiences of the weekend, and my thoughts, hopes, and fears for the future.
And suddenly, with the utmost clarity and calm, I knew I had to change my life. Starting that instant, and in ways that would last the rest of my life.
I have, I am, and I will.