The One Lifestyle Tweak That Helped Me Lose A Ton Of Weight

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“You’re jealous of yourself 25 years ago,” my shrink said.

I was! I complained that in my 50s, each new exercise triggered a new injury. A young male trainer pushed me to do burpees, which led to torn ligaments in my lower back that took two years of physical therapy to heal. Kickboxing caused a meniscus tear that required a knee operation. Step aerobics gave me the gift of plantar fasciitis, inflaming the bottom of my foot so badly that I had to switch high heels for flats with orthotics (stashing sexy sandals in my purse for emergency photo ops).

Everyone said swimming was safe. Not for me. Even doing laps aggravated my spine.

From a Midwest Jewish family of big noshers, I was size eight on a good day — if I watched my diet. Alas, during the pandemic, my beloved husband needed two major surgeries. I was grateful we could do our jobs remotely as he recovered. Nightly binge-watching Netflix, we munched buckets of organic popcorn, which, I rationalized, was a healthy gluten-free snack. Until 30 extra pounds found my frame.

Going carb-crazy from stress was a bad habit to continue, especially caring for a mate who needed me fit.

“You have such an addictive personality you’d be better off quitting whole food groups than being moderate,” said my therapist. He was a substance abuse specialist who, years before, helped me quit smoking and drinking without gaining any weight — a miracle in itself.

So, I listened, enduring painful popcorn withdrawal. It was soothed a week later when I was seven pounds smaller. Inspired, I nixed all other bread products, cheese and sugar (except for fruit). I survived the deprivation by eating three delicious meals a day as the weight fell off. But hitting a plateau, I needed a workout that wouldn’t knock me out.

As an aging workaholic, I was too sedentary, sitting at my laptop for hours, talking on my landline and communicating by email or text. With no office available at the Manhattan college where I taught, I held office hours outside, walking and talking with students around the local park, discussing their grades, jobs or future, way better than a desk treadmill. When the pandemic closed restaurants and bars, instead of lunch, dinner or drinks, I’d trek with friends, too.

It seemed a no-brainer when my physical therapist suggested increasing my walking to 10,000 steps a day, five miles, about seventy-five minutes. I bought a smartwatch and scheduled daily hiking dates.

But my companions canceled when it rained, snowed, sleeted or hit 80-degree heat, which meant I wasn’t mobile enough to make my marching mandate. I tried dancing solo to Taylor Swift’s “Shake It Off,” yet it only added 400 steps, made me breathless and I almost sprained my ankle.

One stormy afternoon, rushing to do house chores before a meeting, my mom called from Michigan. I feared an emergency. It was only to confide that she’d bumped into the brother of the high school boyfriend I’d nicknamed “Root Canal.” Rapt for an update on my ex’s divorce, I held the phone with one hand. With the other, I cleaned, gathered clothes in the laundry bag, took out the detergent, loaded the washer and emptied the garbage. After hanging up, my watch showed I’d taken 5,000 steps. Preoccupied with gossip, I hadn’t noticed that I’d absent-mindedly multitasked my way toward my activity goal.

Later, my brother Eric, an IT genius, texted about a new computer. Instead of returning his text, I called him on my cell, pacing around my place and asking questions. I was earnestly curious about his life, but secretly lengthened the conversation to keep stepping. He chronicled a trip he took to watch fireworks with his wife and shared health updates. Win-win: 5,000 more steps while connecting with my sibling.

My new rule: Whenever possible, I stopped typing and video chatting in favor of gabbing on the phone while circling my living room. So what if I looked like a mad scientist pacing her laboratory? I’d missed hearing friends’ voices and the intimacy of a long chat was like in-person power strolling. Unable to meet face-to-face with online students out of state or country, I offered the option of phoning. Several said they had Zoom fatigue and found our tête-à-têtes more expansive and inspiring than emailing.

Invited to do podcast interviews on Google Meets or Skype, I preferred using audio, and conducting verbal exchanges while roaming, killing two birds with one iPhone.

Keeping the weight off for three years with zero physical problems, I plan calls every night to walk and talk. I’m up to 13,000 steps daily and down to the size I was in my 30s, sporting a little more wisdom and ingenuity.

How many steps a day do you try to walk? 5,000? 10,000? Let us know in the comments below.