Sunday, November 06, 2011
Dear DVD Player,
Thank you for giving your life so that I might live a healthier life. Yesterday you sputtered a bit, and I had to accept that you had played your last DVD.
I reflect back on our last 10 months together. On January 1, I stepped on the scale and made a New Year's resolution that you helped me achieve. I knew I needed to get back to exercise and had to acknowledge all of my excuses and barriers. I knew that my best strategy was to exercise first thing in the morning. I knew that I'd have a hard time walking out in the cold winter or taking the time to travel to a gym. Indoor at-home exercise was my best option for success. But getting access to the computer and TV in our family room is like getting access to the bathroom when everyone is getting ready at the same time.
And then as I was putting holiday decorations away in our basement storage room, I saw you on the shelf. You were the small combo TV/DVD player that we used to hook up in the car on long trips so that we could keep our daughter distracted from whining "How much longer to Grandma and Grandpa's house?"
I dusted you off, placed you in our bedroom armoire, and put in a Leslie Sansone walk-at-home DVD. Every morning we began to walk one, two, or three miles with Leslie. Then I'd walk a few steps down to the bathroom shower to get ready for work.
After winning my first SparkPeople bootcamp trophy, I read that I should change up my exercise routine. I bought a new DVD--but after a month, you had become loyal to Leslie, and I couldn't get you to play or recognize a different DVD. And so we kept walking with Leslie. We probably spent 250 mornings together.
I saw the signs this week that you were walking your last miles. I couldn't get you to play anything but Leslie's second mile. Yesterday was a cool crisp morning, and I was scheduled to complete my SparkPeople 5K walk. Did you know I was talking myself out of an outdoor walk? I put in the DVD, and you sputtered your last breath. And so I went outdoors and walked four miles.
Thanks for the support. With your help, I lost more than 20 pounds, achieved my weight-loss goals, and found myself at the brink of maintenance. I hope that by taking you off that storeroom shelf I gave you some productive last days. And somehow I think you knew that I needed to move on and walk without you.
Rest in peace.