I’ve been on my weight loss journey for seven and a half years now.

So many little things which have now become “normal” for me – not just in terms of eating behaviour, but also in my abilities to move – were once things I couldn’t even dream of when I first started on my journey.

I’ve always been disabled.  And for most of my life (from the age of 9) I’ve been overweight.

From my own personal perspective, it was easy to use my disability as an excuse as to why I was overweight and why I was unable to move MORE.

In hindsight, my WEIGHT significantly prevented me from moving more.  I could barely stand for a few minutes, let alone walk any distance.  I would need someone to help fill the car with fuel, as the whole process of standing whilst operating the pump was just too exhausting.

Whatever our abilities, we can all move a little more, even if it’s just a trundle in the open air in a motorised wheelchair. In fact, the benefits of doing just that can be immense.

I have just returned from an amazing trip to Tanzania and Zanzibar. This is my third “adventure” holiday to far-flung destinations and remote locations in as many years.  The trips have involved long-haul flights, climbing into single-engine 12-seater planes and being hoisted into and out of jeeps whilst on safari.  More are planned.

One of the day trips planned on this holiday was a boat trip in a traditional dhow (wooden boat). What I’ve always enjoyed about boat trips is that you jump on, travel about, see things, and jump off.  Not too much walking involved.

Not this time!

When we arrived at the beach, the tide was out, and I could see, much to my dismay, the boats waiting about half a mile out in the shallow water. I immediately started to worry that I wouldn’t be able to get out there, walking across sand, then rocks, and rock pools, ankle-deep in water.

BUT my choices were limited.

I either attempted that walk, or neither of us could do the trip (already arranged and paid for). The drive to the beach had already taken 40 minutes. We really wanted a day away from the hustle and bustle of Stone Town.

As we waited, kitted out with our flippers and masks/snorkels, I felt an inner fear rising deep within me.

Eventually, we were assigned a crew member whose job was to walk small groups out to the waiting boats.

Our group was allocated “Big Shot”, a huge gentleman built like a water buffalo!

“Big Show” took hold of my wrist firmly in one HUGE hand, his fingers holding me tightly. “I will help you, Mama”, he said, and started walking me toward the boat at a steady pace, taking into account my short legs and reduced stride length.

I couldn’t look forward; my eyes had to stay on the uneven ground beneath my feet, avoiding rock pools and particularly slimy patches. All the time he kept reassuring me with the words “polepole, polepole” (Swahili for “slowly, slowly”). Before long, we reached the group of boats, and they heaved me aboard, not in the most ladylike fashion, but by then I was exhausted and keen to get aboard and find a seat!

Likewise, when we stopped for lunch, the boat had little option but to anchor in the shallows, with a half-mile walk to the beach and the restaurant where we were lunching.

But this time, I was less fearful. By now it was the middle of the day; the sun was blazing down on us (30-degree heat).  I slid into the water, up to my waist, and Big Shot took my wrist.

This time, he walked me about 50 steps and then said, “Stop. Rest.” I think he noticed my laboured breathing (or should I say puffing!). The final part of this marathon was a climb up a steep, sandy beach (see picture, this shows the tide right in). Once again, I arrived at my final destination, hot, exhausted, hungry and thirsty.

I took my seat in the shade and exclaimed, “I think that deserves a Kili!” (a popular local beer, Kilimanjaro). No sooner had I said the words than one arrived on the table in front of me, uncapped, delivered by a fellow passenger.

None of my fellow passengers knew anything about my walking abilities. We were all strangers meeting for the first time – French, American, Japanese, etc. But I have no doubt from comments during the trip that they admired what I achieved that day.

I have to say, though, nobody was more impressed with my performance than I was myself!

Once again, I truly achieved more than I thought I was physically able to.

And it was well worth it.