There is a fairly upscale grocery store about a mile away from my house in Upstate NY. It really is a nice place. Lots of specialty items and beautiful produce which makes it like a sanctuary of sorts for a self proclaimed clean eating foodie like me. There really only is one problem. Their checkouts are extremely slow. Their staff is so overly friendly that long conversations tend to ensue with patrons. I realize the art of conversation is largely lost in grocery check out lines anymore and I should really appreciate the friendliness of it all and believe me, I do, but on the other hand, I am generally in a hurry. Managing five other people's schedules on top of my own 50 plus hour work week while training for races and running a team means my time for lengthy conversation at the store with a stranger is somewhat limited. Consequently, I really only go to this particular store when I plan to go through the express lane.
Yesterday was one of those days. I had exactly 20 minutes between work, gym, school events, and the kids arriving home on the bus when I would get myself ready for work again. I had in my head what I needed and had to keep it below ten items. We all know what happens when you go over ten items. There is the bold checker who will throw you out of line, or the less brave checker who will point it out but do it "just this once, but you really belong in the regular line." Let us not disregard the fellow shoppers who count and give you the look of disdain when that 11th and 12th items appear on the belt.
When I hit the checkout line, I frantically counted the items in my basket and I got to think about the limits in my own proverbial basket that held me captive in a place of obesity and poor health for so long. There was the limit where I had convinced myself I would never be one of those "skinny girls." My whole family was overweight, so this must be a genetic problem and there was a genetic limit as to how far I went regardless of the diet and fitness tools I had at my disposal. That seems to be the thing with limits. A personal truth complete with rationalization and acceptance. So many of these existed for me.
There was the idea that I could eat carbs and still lose weight and be healthy despite my insulin resistance. You see the problem there was that genetics thing referenced above. Then the idea that I could not be a runner. I couldn't breathe when I ran. I had knee issues as a kid, but I could walk and I would just be good at that. On that same line of logic, although I love sports, I would only be a recreational player because I could never reach the level of play the superstars did. Oh I could play but being a recreational player was good enough. Besides, at this age I had given up sports entirely because of too things. I was too old and a mom and really I didn't have time to work out let alone think about any sort of physical achievement. One limit rolled into another until I found myself resigned to the notion that I was what I was. Settling for an overweight mediocre version of myself. Settling for the person I was instead of who it was I absolutely could be.
Nonetheless, when Istarted this journey, I decided that I would try to get to the best mediocre version and put exercise first. Given that I work shift work as a nurse practitioner in an ER plus have children, sometimes those workout times were not ideal. They were 5:00am some days and 7:30 pm other days. As I tried out this crazy schedule I realized the "too busy" limit was simply self imposed. As I unpacked the other limits, take running for example, I came to know I couldn't breathe when I ran not due to exercise induced asthma, my self diagnosis, it was simply I was out of shape and needed some time and dedication to work into it. In an age of instant gratification, I felt as though if I could not do it in pretty short order it probably could not be done As to the genetics...embracing my insulin resistance and cutting the carbs has me at my lowest weight in my adult life. As to physical achievement, the day I rowed a good distance and met criteria to be an "elite rower" or the day I found myself running a base pace in "runner" category as opposed to "jogger" or "power walker" I realized that my acceptance of never running so many years ago was simply a place of comfort and not truth.
Over time I have come to see I had so many limits. So many rationalizations. Worse yet my rationalizations were so mainstream common and socially acceptable that it was so easy to believe every last limit was absolutely real. Later, I would come to understand that this alternate reality only becomes a prison of poor health and despair. As I unpacked and will continue to unpack, all of these onto the proverbial grocery store belt I realize there is so much more open when do as, as the Wolf of Wall Street says,and realize "the things standing between me and my own goals were the proverbial bullshit stories I kept telling myself as to why I could not achieve them."
As I finish unloading my groceries onto the belt I find I have an 11th item. I triumphantly put it on the belt with a little smile as I make eye contact with the checker. She says nothing. I think in that moment how appropriate that my 11th item is the coveted pint of red velvet Halo Top, the single greatest clean eating dessert to come down the pike in years, reminding me that once again, as my limits continue to come down one at a time, the best is yet to come.
