]]>My body is slimmed down to a basic structure. I have to rebuild it. I like this. I don’t like how weak I am. I don’t like that my legs have trouble lifting me. That my arms are incapable of lifting me. That after pushing myself the pain is almost debilitating. I don’t like any of it, but I like the challenge. I like that my entire life needs to be rebuilt from the ground up. I like that the change I am experiencing is complete, from head to toe.
Not only do I not feel like me, I don’t look like me either. I will physically become a new person, internally, genetically, emotionally and externally. Could I have achieved the same results with a life coach, personal trainer and some plastic surgery? Not really, but that probably would have been much more affordable. As I approached 100 I kept clinging to the idea that my life would be better once I got there. I was surprised at how little a difference it ends up making. Yes, I made it. No, life isn’t suddenly normal. It’s not even close. I have a year before things really start to normalize, before I begin to do things in my daily life that most of you take for granted. A year, possibly longer. The 100th day is a marker for certain things, like blood work and a biopsy but it isn’t a ticket to freedom, it isn’t a ticket to anything.