Dearest Rachel –
Since I wasn’t completely laid up by my cold during the latter half of last week – sure, I confined myself to the house for a day, but it wasn’t as if I was flat on my back for the better part of twenty-four hours like I used to be – it shouldn’t be surprising that vestiges of it are still lingering. Still, with it being at the tail end like it is, I’ve decided that whatever communicability it had (isn’t it conventional wisdom that you’re most communicable right before you start to display symptoms?) has all but dissipated, and I can get out and about once again.
This includes getting out to the gym in the morning. Much as I don’t enjoy doing so (and even less so every day, as darkness continues to impinge on more of the morning, and retaining that much more cold with it), I know I need to maintain a certain level of discipline in order to continue to make progress toward my weight loss goals, impossible though they may be (yes, two hundred pounds is eminently doable – even possible by the end of the month, and certainly by the end of the year – but I know I plan to keep moving the goalposts until I’m down to my high school weight of 166, since I recall being considered ‘chunky’ or ‘husky’ at even that weight). True, I haven’t ventured over what I consider to be my current ceiling of two-fifteen – unless you count measurements I take at the end of the day, which I purposely only do once, so as to not have a definitive record – throughout my illness, but I also haven’t stepped below the two-ten mark since falling ill, either. Returning to my routine is the only way back to that path.
Besides, in the days leading up to my falling sick, I had ordered something that arrived at my worst moment, and I’ve been meaning to try it out on the treadmill. This may sound like a no-brainer, but I’d been noticing that, as my weight fell, the rate at which I was able to burn calories was beginning to slow down over time. It stands to reason; it takes less energy to lug around less weight, after all, but it’s annoying to spend the same amount of time, traveling the same distance, and burn fewer calories. To mitigate that, I ordered a pair of ankle weights, and had hoped to see if they made a difference – the only problem being that I’d been delayed from trying them out by my cold.
There are a few things about them that I hadn’t expected, but perhaps should have. For one, they’re more than a little bulky – I have to stride differently than I’m accustomed to, or else they brush against each other with every step. Likewise, there’s this constant brush of them against my shoes; it felt as if they would fall off my feet if I didn’t have some sort of footwear on (which seems kind of odd, as they would have to bend around my feet to actually fall off, but the sensation was still there). Interestingly, while it didn’t feel all that difficult to take steps with the additional ten pounds at the bottom of my legs, I could hear as my shoes scraped against the pavement more than usual. All in all, walking with these proved to be an awkward experience.
Moreover, it didn’t really help me burn off that many more calories. Once I got onto the treadmill, I felt the need to start at a lower speed as well as a lower incline, which rather offset (and then some) any benefit produced by carrying the extra weight. and while I got used to dealing with that extra weight, with each step they would slide just ever so slightly further down, until they started to bite into either my ankles or my heels. It wasn’t so much the weight that was uncomfortable, it was the contact itself that became intolerable. After less than a half an hour – and barely a mile and a half traversed – I decided to take them off, and walk normally, albeit at a higher speed and incline.
Again, it shouldn’t have come as any great, surprise, but it was amazing to feel how liberating it was to have those weights off my ankles. Suddenly, it felt like I could cover all manner of distance; and at the incline I was doing so, I could burn 300 calories per mile, which was better than I was doing with the weights on. Now, it may very well be that that’s the whole point; after having to deal with the extra weight, stripping them off frees one to exercise that much more vigorously – shades of that old joke about the flagellant monk, and how “it feels so good when I stop.” However, it rather feels like adding an extra step to the whole routine, and I have to wonder if it was necessary for me to have done so.
Then again, would I have been able to discover that had I not tried?
But now, I have to find out if I know of anyone who’s interested in a thirdhand pair of ankle weights; and anyone who’s read this over your shoulder isn’t going to be particularly interested in them. It’s not as if I’ve done a particularly good job selling them here, after all – although, if I had praise for them, I wouldn’t be trying to sell them in the first place.
In any event, honey, keep an eye on me, and wish me luck, as I’d clearly going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 