My last two years have been about making smarter choices for long-term health. I may not be progressing at the rate of those who only value outward appearances, but the parts others cannot see are improving. It revolves around numbers, numbers that insurance companies use to determine risk or expense. And those numbers drive me batty when I think about them too long.

In 2012, one of my doctors, who I admire because he talks to me like an educated adult and takes the time to answer all my questions, took my pulse and said I had a beautiful resting heart rate in the low 60s. For some, that might be an awkward compliment, but I was happy! We talked about my exercise efforts and he encouraged me to keep doing what I was doing because it works.

In 2013, we met again and he complimented my resting pulse again. He said if he could give my 110 over 70 blood pressure to his patients, he would and wished he could say those were his numbers. We talked again about exercise programs and he encouraged me to focus on my pulse, blood pressure and ability to complete challenging activity and less so on the number of the scale.

I do.

But then I told him how I’m slightly scared about this upcoming health care cattle call (my words) that I’ll participate in an effort to collect enough points to qualify for a discount on my health insurance premiums next year. It’s all or nothing.

I’m not optimistic even though I should get the points for blood pressure, cholesterol, not smoking, dental cleanings, packing my lunch (inspired by Lunch It Punch It- I should extra get extra for a great idea!), exercising, participating in a walk/run, because there is stuff like BMI and waist circumference measurements. Numbers that invoke feelings of dread and not achieving the minimum standard.

ugh.

Maybe next year there will be a burpee throwdown?! I’m ready!