Journey Around the Lakes

In April, on my 37th birthday, I asked my sons to walk around Lake Calhoun with me. It was a gorgeous day, the lake still churning up slushy ice dams with a sound like wind chimes. We enjoyed our 3.2-mile stroll at a leisurely pace, stopping at each playground, tossing the football around, taking photos. We finished a few hours later, and all were sore and tired. While the day was perfect, it stuck out in my mind how out of shape I was.

If you live in the area, you’re familiar with both Lake Calhoun and Lake Harriet, their easy paths, scenic panoramas and bordering architecture. Calhoun’s distance around is 3.2 miles; Harriet’s is 2.8 miles. The lakes are beautiful all year long, home to fish and fowl, with beaches, boating, fishing and serene park settings. Before I lived here, when looking for a home, I fell in love with these two lakes. I was determined to live nearby. I was successful—my home in St Louis Park is less than two miles from Lake Calhoun.

When we moved to our home in St Louis Park from out of state, the lakes served as a navigation point for us, and later, as a nice view to drive around and park near after a long day. Fast forward to today: I completed my first 6-mile speed-walk circling both lakes and clocked around a 20-minute mile! OK, that may not sound like great time, but as I've never been a runner, at my fittest I could probably struggle for a 12-minute mile running, and I could never do 6 full miles. Here is how I got to where I am:

After our stroll in April, I started noticing that I felt ill. Especially after I ate. I secretly worried I might be sick, though I pushed the idea away—I had too much to do! No time to be sick! Then one night in July, beginning around 1:30 a.m., I had a major attack that turned out to be my gall bladder.  If you’ve experienced this pain, you know—if you haven’t, I can tell you it equaled labor pain but with no explanation, which caused me to panic. The pain was located right in the center of my chest. All that together, at 3 a.m., I was sure I was having a heart attack and leaving my boys motherless. The gall bladder had to come out. The ER physician wanted it out that night, but I begged for time. I’m alone in Minnesota with my boys and needed time to rally some help from my mother and the boys’ father.  They gave me 2 weeks to get my helpers here; in the meantime I went on a “gall bladder friendly” diet aimed at avoiding another attack and keeping it from becoming more inflamed and enlarged (which would mean a six-week recovery instead of a six-day one.)

The diet was fat-free, sugar-free, gluten-free, legume-free, caffeine-free, dairy-free, egg-free and vegetarian.  Basically, I only ate rice and a limited list of fruits and veggies. For a MONTH—two weeks before and two weeks after surgery. I was amazed at my own willpower. I never cheated once in that month! The surgery itself was successful (thanks to St. Louis Park’s Park Nicollet Methodist hospital, staff and my surgeon, Dr. Vietzen, for excellent care). There are side effects post-op, most noticeably a decreased appetite and intolerance for some foods. That, along with the diet, had me down 13 pounds by my post-op checkup! I realized that I could reintroduce normal food to my diet and I was still going to lose weight. There was a little momentum built that I needed to seize upon.

One month after the surgery, I decided it was time to test the waters. Me and my boys started walking, fast this time, not strolling, and felt good (no post-op cramping). The next day, I went to work and told my coworker friend, Symantha (Sam), a SLP resident herself, about our walk. Sam has been training for the Komen three-day, 60-mile walk for breast cancer awareness in August, so she walks the lakes almost daily. We agreed to meet occasionally and walk together; my kids love walking with her dog on her leash. Of course I’m sore the more I walk, but it makes me feel good.

For so long, I enrobed myself in a cushion to protect me. I hid behind my weight and my kids. The weight went on during a miserably unhappy marriage, two quick pregnancies, and depressed dissatisfaction that followed. I let it be the wall I threw up, and while I’ve moved on from that marriage, gotten over the sadness and felt happier and more independent for it, it still protected me, an excuse for not putting myself out there. And I am so over that! I don’t need its protection anymore. I have plenty more prime years left that shouldn’t be spent lonely. And for the first time in many years, I acknowledged that I am lonely and want to do something about it.

I’m back to normal food, albeit much less of it—I rarely eat more than once a day and usually less than 1000 calories. I know that’s unhealthy, but I consider it a temporary after-effect of the surgery and plan to ride it out. I feel strong and healthy—physically and mentally. So I’m walking—fast. I’m starting to lose weight and to tone, it’s starting to get easier to work hard on the walks. I feel like the weight is my obstacle and I want it gone. With all the sore muscles, I feel the beautiful, smart woman I am inside is kicking her way out of the cocoon. I have a renewed sense of self-confidence as I outpace some very fit, well-toned walkers and runners in my path. I don’t think other people see me and think “fat girl,” but I do, and until I fix the things about me that I’m unhappy with, I won’t be done. As my core strengthens, I may stand physically taller, but as I walk on this journey, I stand emotionally taller.

My boys approach the walks differently than I, and from each other. My almost-11-year-old needs to lose weight after a terrible year where he broke first his knee in the fall and then his arm in the winter playing basketball. He took time to rehab but abandoned sports. He is reclaiming himself, too, on these walks and his affection for soccer and basketball may again be seen. He walks slowly but just walks, even when it’s a struggle for his asthma. And he’s proud of himself—it’s all about self-confidence with this kid. My 9-year-old is a monkey. He can’t stand to just walk. Thinner and fitter than we are, and an avid soccer player, he doesn’t “need to get in shape”—he IS. He’d rather be climbing, running, jumping off rocks and learning how to skateboard. I can’t teach him to skate, and he thinks that stinks. I grew up watching first my brother and his friends, then boyfriends and their friends, later my first husband skate. Yet I can’t teach the kid and he hates that. For him, the walks are boring. Except he has my captive attention for an hour, so he prattles on about Legos and Star Wars and video games, and I listen, as well as I can. Sometimes they walk while playing a video game, their heads bent together. Other times, they sit and play chess or have snacks while I walk. But my favorite is when they walk together, apart from me, deep in conversation. I know its probably about toys and fantasy, but I pretend its deep, and their closeness probably does serve as the bond to help each other deal with things, like their absent father, even without actually discussing it. So they each have goals or things they’re looking for along the walks, and even if it’s not exactly how they’d spend their time, they seem on board with keeping me company.

I have plenty of my own personal goals for this journey—like my thighs not touching, or my baby pouch to be gone (the baby is now the 9-year-old). For the first time in a long time, I have the confidence to pursue a relationship, with no hang-ups. But in the end, what I’m really doing is reclaiming myself while reclaiming my body, one step at a time.