I “Finished” 75 Soft. My Lessons and Experience

Seventy five days ago I wrote about starting 75 Soft. That was April 27. It's July now, the challenge is over, and I've been staring at my tracker page trying to figure out what to tell you about it.

And errr... my tracker is not a wall of perfect completed days. Not even close.

It's a run of completed days, then a messy middle, then another good run, then a string of partials at the end. And I think that messy grid is more useful to you than a perfect one would have been, so let me walk you through it.

One thing sat at the back of my head through this entire challenge: the time is going to pass regardless. Regardless of how you spend it, regardless of whether you work toward your goals or coast.

April, May, June came and went whether I showed up or not. The 75 days were going to be gone by July 10 either way. The only question was what state I'd be in when they were.

The messy middle

So what happened in that messy middle? The walks happened. Or didn't.

My daily exercise on this challenge was a 45-minute walk, and the heat is not playing with anybody. I told myself I'd walk outside, then it got hot, then I told myself I'd do it indoors, and then I just... didn't. I wasn't injured. I wasn't sick. I was coasting.

Every other part of the challenge kept going (that's why those days show as partial instead of empty), but the walks quietly dropped off, day after day, until I looked at the grid and got annoyed with myself. I have a challenge. I can't give up. Do what you can inside the house, wake up, walk for 45 minutes, get your sweat on.

And I did. I got the energy back and strung together a solid consistent run.

Then I got my brows done.

(Stay with me.) I finally treated myself to nanobrows, which work like microblading, and the aftercare rules are strict: no sweating, no getting them wet, for at least seven days and ideally fourteen. I paid real money for those brows. The brows must stick. So the walks stopped again, this time on purpose, and the back stretch of my grid went partial.

Here's what didn't stop through the heat, the laziness, and the brow protection program: the food. I kept eating the way I've been eating. No takeout spirals, no “well, the challenge is ruined anyway” eating. And that's the part I care about, because the food is the foundation everything else sits on.

But once I broke the walking streak, it also started to affect my reading.

More than a few times, I consciously skipped my reading because I'd already missed the walk. In my head, the day wasn't going to be "perfect" anymore, so reading suddenly felt less important.

I wish I had chosen differently and intend to do so on my next go.

The staircase

Now let me tell you how I found out what those 75 days were quietly doing, because it was a staircase that told me.

Last weekend, I took my son on a playdate and hung back with the other parents. After the kids played indoor games and demolished some snacks, it was time to head down to the poolside and clubhouse. The building has elevators. The kids ignored them completely, some of the parents did too, and off we went.

Five flights of stairs.

What stairs used to look like for me. A few steps in, my knees would start complaining. I'd grab the railing and take it one step at a time, both feet landing on each stair before I attempted the next one. Step, together, step, together. Slow, deliberate, and embarrassing.

This time I went down all five flights without holding anything. No railing, no knee pain, no step-together shuffle. I didn't even think about it until I got to the bottom.

What made me think about it was one of the other adults. She was doing the descent I used to do. Railing gripped tight, both feet on each stair, everyone else long gone ahead of her. I watched her and remembered. That used to be me, not so long ago. That was my exact pain, my exact shuffle, my exact “go ahead, I'll catch up.”

I go down the stairs in my own house every day, but that's one level. One level tells you nothing. Five flights with an audience of parents and shrieking kids apparently tells you much more, because that's the first time I actually saw how much has changed in these 75 days.

The scoreboard I used

When I started, I decided the scale would not be the scoreboard. I'd weighed myself into misery enough times to know that game.

So I focused on NSVs (Non-Scale Victories) instead, and a huge NSV showed up at a playdate, on a staircase, in the reflection of somebody else's knees. I took progress photos for my own records too, and the thing I notice in my face is that I look less inflamed. That's what eating actual food for 75 days does, apparently, even when your streak looks patchy.

Also, I was able to fit nicely into a dress I've had for like 3 years now. I could get it on before, but it didn't look good on me. Now it does.

Could I have done better? Yes. A straight 75-day streak was possible, and I didn't do it.

Life happened, laziness happened, brows happened. But I refuse to grade this as a failure, because the alternative to my imperfect 75 days wasn't a perfect 75 days. The alternative was nothing. The same 75 days would have passed with no walks, no food changes, no less-inflamed face, and me still doing the step-together shuffle down somebody's staircase.

The time came and it went. It always does.

I'm starting another round of 75 Soft in August, with the reading and walking getting more of my attention this time. I already know it might not be perfect either. It doesn't need to be. It needs to happen while the time is passing anyway.