“How long will it take?”
(To lose 100 pounds or a half of yourself or whatever the goal.)
It’s an interesting question because I expect we all ask it as we start out.
I have videos describing what I lost, when, etc., and I would ask all of those same questions were I to be getting started right now.
However, from my spot on the trail, further down from that question, I do increasingly see it as “small time thinking.”
At the time, “How long will it take?” seems like an awfully important question because, well:
How long will it take until I can walk?
How long until I can lift my leg over the tub wall to take a shower?
How long until I can bend my knee enough to enter a car and drive it?
These are important questions.
Dropping the weight is a very big part of answering those questions.
It took me months to walk without limping.
“How long will it take?” Is important and relevant.
But a crazy thing happens when you get past that stage of gingerly stepping into the shower or limping to your car that you are only able to drive again for the first time in months.
You pass those important points, you stay on track fueled by your success — of being able to walk or gaining a little bit more independence or energy to wash the dishes in your sink.
You stay on track because it’s working, and then you lose more and you can wash more dishes faster, and then you’re out walking more, and then you can walk without huffing and puffing, and then you realize you’ve lost more than you ever thought was possible.
Or heck, what if you’ve only lost what you hoped was possible, but you can actually get out and do something?
That is when the mind-blowing question comes: “How far will I go?”
I stop and I tear up because I still do not know.
I will say that this picture is of my boys and me on a beach in Kauai a couple of months ago.
Two years ago I would have watched from the parking lot as my boys chased the surf.