and let it all out.

I hate New Years' resolutions, probably because mine have always been on the subject of weight loss and I have always failed to keep my promises. I hate year-end recaps because it's just a reminder of what I could have, should have, would have done. It's the shadow of my failures and a record of my disappointments.

I've always preferred to treat early January as just another day because, other than for symbolic purposes, it's exactly that: just another series of days. I'm pretty peeved to be writing this post in early January for the reasons I mentioned above, but the truth is, it's just convenient this way.

The funniest part about what I'm going to write is that I'll be doing it from memory despite being in possession of a plethora of my written thoughts from the last year. It's an exercise in memory and humor because my brain mocks me in my inability to remember things as they were. But for the sake of laughter, let's see how this goes, hmm?

January was VEGAS VEGAS VEGAS. My weight was down to 265 and I felt crazy skinny. I had new outfits for our plans in Las Vegas, new outfits for our outings and our friend's wedding in Los Angeles, and I wanted to show it off. I felt like hot shit on that trip because I ate what I wanted (only less of it), I exercised every chance I got, and I felt better for it (and I thought it showed in my appearance). To be honest, I was disappointed that nobody said to me "wow you lost weight" or any comments along those lines, but the point in January was that I felt great. Reaching the 260s was a milestone for me for personal reasons because it marked a 10% weight loss from my initial weight, and because (on the way up) 265 was the first time I realized how heavy I had gotten.

I wish I could remember more of February but I don't. That's what my archives are for. I remember struggling to find a balance with my classes, working, and exercising, while testing my sanity with 18 hour days. There was a lot of time spent at the gym and a lot of time being tired and sore. This month I taught myself how to run and made huge gains in my fitness and saw huge losses on the scale.

I felt the lingering pain of an overuse injury in March and learned the importance of rest days. I reached 50 pounds lost and reached another milestone.

In April I took my running outdoors and found love for something I always thought I hated. I think that's all for this month?

May brought the opportunity to join a proper gym, I made a gym buddy out of that man-boy of mine and I learned to settle into a routine.

I celebrated an anniversary in June and struggled to find balance between eating right and eating deliciously. And drinking. There was lots of drinking. June was the first time in a long time that I felt comfortable in my own skin and that sense of comfort lured me into a place where food and emotions are pals and I gained weight. Just a tiny bit, but enough to hurt.

I was told I could be cured in July and the Olympics and a strong sense of belonging at my gym told me I could make it a reality.

And then August struck. Two weeks' vacation in Pittsburgh, being jammed back into the start of the semester upon immediate my arrival home, and a poor adjustment to a new routine made for a rough few weeks that bled into September. Football, friends, tailgating, eating, drinking, and taking a Sun-Thurs only approach to fitness really stunted my progress.

October will forever be tinted with the disappointment of having to tell my neurologist that I had not lost any weight, followed by the disappointment I received in hearing her say that my condition had not progressed in any direction. Total standstill. On a personal front, I found my personality and my happiness, I had smaller jeans and a bigger smile. For the first time in a long time, I was happy to be seen in public, happy to wear clingy clothes, happy to pose for pictures. There is a new-found pride in my appearance that I hadn't sensed in years and I'm told it's etched on my face.

Food. November. That's all.

It snowed in December and I dug through my closet hoping to find the courage to become a winter runner. I can say with pride that I succeeded. I [temporarily] quit the gym, took myself outdoors and braved the elements. I was more laissez faire with my food choices and happily maintained my weight and my sanity. I rounded out another successful semester with a GPA of 3.945 and closed the books on 2012 with more than 75 pounds lost.

*************

Right at this moment, I have no idea how much I weigh. I could stab at some guesses, but they would be nothing more than hopeful wishes. My purpose in retelling my 2012 story as I remember it was to put perspective on things. If you were to ask me how I feel about my progress in losing weight, I would say I feel disappointed.

If you ask me how I think my actual progress lines up with what I would have expected, and if I gave you a truly thoughtful answer, it would be that I am exactly where I should be, all things considered.

I knew going in that my ultimate goal of losing 100+ pounds was going to take two years, and this estimate was based on countless hours of research and calculating and more research and constant adjustments for reality. In a year, I had hoped to lose 100 pounds, but in a year it was only practical to plan for 75. And I did it.

I had hoped to see the scale start with the number 1, but in 2012 I told myself it wasn't about the numbers. I told myself it was for my health, for myself, for my family as it is now and the family I hope to have in the future. I am still 20 ish pounds away from reaching my super exciting goal of seeing my weight start with a 1, but I know that in 2013 it will be done. In 2012 I saved my health, I created a new future for myself, and I found a new passion.

I feel like the last 3-4 months have been a wash, like my hours in the gym and running on the streets were a waste because I haven't lost much weight, changed my pants size, or reached any significant goals. Except for that time that I became a runner. A legit, official runner. A runner in the snow, in the rain, on the streets, in the grass, over trails and hills and through intersections at all hours of the day. A runner who could say 10 miles and then it would be done. When I started, I couldn't last a minute on the elliptical, but in a year I worked myself up to training for a half marathon. In 2013, it will be done.

I started 2012 in a different city with new clothes feeling like the fanciest girl alive, and I'm thrilled to find that the same is true for 2013. Except this time, my clothes are even smaller, my progress is greater, and my resolve never stronger.

For 2013, there is no resolution. There are no new goals, nothing I haven't said or wished or thought of before. I still have weight to lose, I'm still fighting for my health, and there are twice as many miles to run this year. The only thing that needs to change is my knowledge. I need to set myself to a new diet and exercise plan to account for my smaller figure and greater athletic capacity.

Above all, I hope everything stays the same. And by that, I mean I hope everything changes.