Moving forward ...

Tonight I went with a friend and my youngest daughter to a Slimming World class.

I’d like to lose another stone and maybe another half after that but no more. The stone will finally bring me down to a healthy BMI - and the extra half a stone will give me a little leeway. I’ve never, ever had a healthy BMI. Even when I started secondary school, I was a couple of stones heavier than I am now!

Anyway, my reasons for going to this class are to shift the last bit of excess weight but, more importantly, to support my daughter in her quest to lose some. She has gained a lot since Al died. Ironically, as I know to my own cost, comfort eating brings little comfort in the longer term. She now wants to lose weight and has a gorgeous prom dress as her goal.

It was odd to enter a slimming class to have people say that I didn’t need to be there. I’m still very much of the mindset that I’m still more than double my current weight and I’m always a little surprised when I catch sight of myself in a shop window. I know the numbers – how much I currently weight/how much I’ve lost – but my head just can’t equate those numbers with the way I look. I still feel excessively overweight. I still hold my trousers up in front of me and am surprised when they fit me.

Just before Al died, he was taking me for daily walks – I’d recently had surgery that hadn’t gone well and so had left me in a very poor state of health. I couldn’t even manage a walk round the block without Al to lean on when I got tired. As an incentive to get me moving a little more, I’d signed up for the Race 4 Life. He used to joke, “Come on Mum – a bit more. We want you fit so you can do that Race 4 life – never mind walking it, we want to cheer you when you run over the finish line.”

Sadly, three weeks before the race, he died.

I did it anyway. With his photo pinned to my back and a good friend next to me, it took us just under an hour to walk the 5km. I was in no fit state to run it. I was still pretty weak so just finishing was no mean feat. I felt a massive sense of achievement as I crossed the finish line. It was very emotional – he would have been so proud. I’d felt pretty rough in the weeks leading up to the race and hadn’t wanted to do it but knowing how much he had wanted it, was enough to spur me on.

Last year we were unable to do the Race 4 Life so we did a moonlight half marathon instead. Because it started at midnight it was dark so running was not allowed. Anyway, we managed to complete the 13.2 miles in just under 4 hours. Again, I felt some satisfaction knowing that he would have been so proud of me.

This year, the hope/intention, is to do a fun run. This will actually involve running. Al ran everywhere. That’s what kept him so lean. The one we plan to enter is only 2 miles but considering that I’m currently incapable of running more than 100 yards without feeling as if I’m going to pass out, two miles is more than enough to start with. I guess losing the last bit of excess weight will help that along.

And next week I start a Zumba class. It sounds like fun – but very hard work. The information leaflet states, “bring a bottle of water and a towel” so it’s hardly likely to be the equivalent of a gentle stroll in the park.

I think he’d approve. He was very much into keeping himself trim and healthy – mainly because he loved being the centre of attention with the girls. During the summer, he never lost an opportunity to lose his shirt and show off his six-pack.

I think he’d be thrilled with my weight loss and increased fitness. I suspect this is also what partially motivates my daughter. Besides the fact that she wants to look amazing in her prom dress, she knows how highly Al valued physical fitness and she wants to be a little like him. Losing some excess weight is part of that for her.

It feels like I’m moving forward a little. Acknowledging that leaves me with mixed emotions. I don’t want to leave him behind. I have to take him with me. And I do. There’s not a day passes when I don’t miss him - when I don’t wonder if he’d approve of what I’m doing. Of course, generally, he didn’t approve any anything I did – simply on principle, he objected to whatever I did. From the meals I served, to the home decor choices, to my resolute, immoveable rules re his being in on time. He disagreed with the boundaries I set. But that was just tough. I set them for a reason and he was just beginning to appreciate them. We could converse as two adults instead of me having to be the parent all the time. Sometimes, he was very grown up – other times he was still a kid. And that was as it should be.

I wonder what kind of a man he would have made. A vain one no doubt. I like to think we would have grown even closer. I think we would. I think he would have been as proud of me as I was of him.