I had meant to post earlier in the week, but I just wasn't up to it. A brief review....
Monday, great day, which started my week 3 of the C25K program. I did well, and ran solid.
Tuesday....no walkee, no runee. Not good....gotta work on this.
Wednesday...was supposed to run day 2 of week 3, but woke up feeling like poo, and it didn't improve when I got to work. Wound up losing my breakfast, so I went home and slept all afternoon. Felt better, and ate a bowl of watermelon. Later, I had some take-out chicken fettucini alfredo, thinking it would be bland. It was....so freakin' bland I felt like it was a total waste. Still, I kept it down, and I guess that's what counted. Still managed not to go over my count for the day, so that was good. Needless to say, I didn't run.
Thursday should have been an off day, but since I couldn't run Wednesday, I ran Thursday instead. Felt good on the track, and my eating was good all day.
I feel really good about the choices I've made this week. My eating has only strengthened as I go, and a huge part of that, I think, is that I am holding myself accountable for everything that goes in my mouth by logging it into myfitnesspal.com. Every time I'm tempted to grab something (like a donut from the box in the breakroom that someone graciously brought in yesterday), I mentally weigh how many points that will take from my daily allowance, and suddenly, it's not so tempting anymore. Other than that, I'm still eating pretty much what I want....it just so happens that everything I want happens to be on my plan. I'm not looking a gift horse in the mouth on that one.
On my weigh-in this morning, the official number is 240.6. Only a teeny bit more will throw me into the next decade, and I can't wait to see that 3 in the 4's place!
Next week, I want to concentrate on walking more, and starting my resistance training. I'd like to see myself walking two days of the week, running three days, and working with the bands two days....that would be my perfect week. A little som'n every day. :) And hopefully a blog or two more, as well!
Friday, May 25, 2012
Monday, May 21, 2012
Weekend Recap
Despite my disappointment with Friday's weigh-in, I managed to remain positive. After working half a day on Friday, I got off early and headed straight to the track to finish week two of my C25K running program. That felt pretty good, so I did a few errands and headed home.
My food was excellent all weekend, and I tracked it all with no problem. My water was great too, although I didn't quite get it all in yesterday. Regardless, my calorie count was consistant and under budget both days.
Saturday was spent painting the house next door. We got the entire living room area done, including both floors, which was quite an accomplishment, especially given the fact that we were using sponges and not rollers or brushes. My vertigo precludes me from getting on ladders, so I was relegated to doing the lower half of the walls, and so consequently, I spent the entire day bending, stooping, stretching, kneeling, crawling, and scooting across the floor. And when we were done, we moved all the furniture back.
Although I felt really tired on Saturday night, it was nothing compared to the aches all over my body the next morning...especially my torso. Wow. I spent the day popping Excedrin Back and Body and taking it as easy as I could. I am proud to say that I woke up this morning feeling pretty good, with the exception of my right underarm area, which is still a little sore. That won't keep me from running this afternoon, though; my legs are solid.
My food was excellent all weekend, and I tracked it all with no problem. My water was great too, although I didn't quite get it all in yesterday. Regardless, my calorie count was consistant and under budget both days.
Saturday was spent painting the house next door. We got the entire living room area done, including both floors, which was quite an accomplishment, especially given the fact that we were using sponges and not rollers or brushes. My vertigo precludes me from getting on ladders, so I was relegated to doing the lower half of the walls, and so consequently, I spent the entire day bending, stooping, stretching, kneeling, crawling, and scooting across the floor. And when we were done, we moved all the furniture back.
Although I felt really tired on Saturday night, it was nothing compared to the aches all over my body the next morning...especially my torso. Wow. I spent the day popping Excedrin Back and Body and taking it as easy as I could. I am proud to say that I woke up this morning feeling pretty good, with the exception of my right underarm area, which is still a little sore. That won't keep me from running this afternoon, though; my legs are solid.
And I've got a race to run.
Friday, May 18, 2012
Reckoning
I'm so proud of myself. This week, I have very carefully watched the makeup of my meals. I have monitored my portion sizes, and measured my calories. I have been meticulous in logging everything.
I have drank the proper amount of water, and in a couple of cases, even gone a bit over for good measure.
I have exercised every day, even if it was just for a few minutes on the days I didn't run. Today I will complete week two of the C25K running plan, and I will finish this week with style and gusto.
All week long, I have been looking forward to....even eager...to jumping on that scale this morning, excited to see my progress. I even dreamed about it last night.
Last week, I dropped almost three pounds, from 245.8 to 243. I even took bets with Keith to see who would be closest....he says he can already see results in my muscle tone (I'm not so sure, but who am I to argue, lol?). I told him I thought I'd see 240, for sure. He thought it would be lower.
I was almost giddy when I got up this morning and hauled out the scale. My grin was from ear to ear, and sitting up in bed watching, Keith couldn't help but laugh at my goofiness as I asked for a drumroll and stepped up.
243. Are you effing kidding me??
No change? At all??
I am trying to keep my spirits up, really. I know that my body will need time to adjust, that I am doing everything right, that I am replacing fat with muscle. Still....it's discouraging as hell to see the scale not move at all.
*sigh*
I've got a lot of work to do.
I have drank the proper amount of water, and in a couple of cases, even gone a bit over for good measure.
I have exercised every day, even if it was just for a few minutes on the days I didn't run. Today I will complete week two of the C25K running plan, and I will finish this week with style and gusto.
All week long, I have been looking forward to....even eager...to jumping on that scale this morning, excited to see my progress. I even dreamed about it last night.
Last week, I dropped almost three pounds, from 245.8 to 243. I even took bets with Keith to see who would be closest....he says he can already see results in my muscle tone (I'm not so sure, but who am I to argue, lol?). I told him I thought I'd see 240, for sure. He thought it would be lower.
I was almost giddy when I got up this morning and hauled out the scale. My grin was from ear to ear, and sitting up in bed watching, Keith couldn't help but laugh at my goofiness as I asked for a drumroll and stepped up.
243. Are you effing kidding me??
No change? At all??
I am trying to keep my spirits up, really. I know that my body will need time to adjust, that I am doing everything right, that I am replacing fat with muscle. Still....it's discouraging as hell to see the scale not move at all.
*sigh*
I've got a lot of work to do.
Thursday, May 17, 2012
A little history...
I've been doing some calculating.
The Eastman Road Race, which I just signed up to do, has a time limit on it. I'm not sure if it's always had one, or not. But it does now. Who knows? I might be the cause of this.
Let me explain.
Back in 2005, when I got serious, I was walking every day. Religiously, for one hour. And I did very well. But later in the year, when I lost steam, and kept trying in vain to kick start myself...that was when I discovered running. And how much I loved it.
I love everything about running: the way it makes me feel, but so much more than that. I love the way my feet feel when they strike the pavement. I love the way my mind grays out until there is nothing left but the rhythm of my stride. I love the sound of my breath in the stillness of pre-dawn. I love the smell of the track...or new-mown grass as I run by. I love running.
I also love knowing that I'm a runner...that I've accomplished things that many far more fit than I will never even attempt. Even if no one ever thinks I am by my appearance, I know. Such a sense of power and confidence is attached to that. I. Am. A. Runner.
Hell, yeah.
For years, growing up in Atlanta, I watched the runners in the Peachtree Road Race thunder past as I stood on the curb, and dreamed that I might one day get up the guts enough to do what they did. And when I started running, I found myself thinking about that race. One day....maybe next year....I'll run that race.
Except that next year didn't come. I didn't push myself...it was just a pipe dream, like most other things in my life. A bucket list item that would never get a check, except in my head.
In 2009, I decided, once again, to get serious. I had moved to TN a year ahead of my husband, who was finishing a contract with the state of GA before joining me, and I really wanted to get fit before he arrived, so that he would be proud of me. That was my goal...I wanted to do it for him.
Anyway....I've seen the Peachtree grow over the years from just a couple of hundred runners in the 70's to be the largest 10k in the world, with 60,000 runners. And I decided that 2009 was my year. I woke early one Sunday morning, at the allotted time, and readied my computer to enter....first come, first served, and I knew it would be a madhouse. Fortunately, I was able to grab a coveted slot, and before I realized what I was doing, I had registered. I was ecstatic. I was actually gonna do it!!! I was gonna run the Peachtree!!!
And then it hit me. Oh, God....I was gonna run the Peachtree. I had to do it now...I had signed the dotted line. I was committed. There was no turning back....the start line was coming, and on July 4th, I would be crossing it. Whether I crossed the finish line was up to me.
There's never been a motivator like spending money....at least, not to me. And the thought of receiving a race packet in the mail and never wearing that number was unthinkable. So....I started training. Hard.
By June, I was running 5 miles, easily, and bordering on 6. My mother in law suggested I enter a local race, the Covered Bridge 5k, to give me the experience of actually running a race before the BIG one, so I did. The morning of the race fell four weeks out before the Peachtree, and during my pre-race warm-up jog, I felt a crunch in my left hip. It wasn't painful, exactly....it was weird. And it left me feeling very shaky and wobbly. Still...I had come too far, and so I ran. Adrenaline got the best of me in the first quarter mile, but then I loosened up and headed for the highway. Turning the first corner, I felt my hip crunch again. At that point, I almost quit running....but I was determined to finish that race. My only goal was to not finish dead last...and as long as there was one turtle on that course slower than me, it was all good.
The entire race, I kept that one turtle in my sights, and eventually faught my way past her to finish. My final time: 42:22. And there were not one, but seven little turtles behind me.
I rested my hip a lot for the next two weeks, doing my best to give it time to heal before the Peachtree....and it felt good the day of the race. I had entered with a goal in mind of finishing in 90 minutes. When I checked my time at the final turn, I had exactly five minutes, and a half mile to go. I don't know where I got it, but I turned on the heat, and flew down 10th street, crossing the finish line in tears...exactly three blocks away from where I had grown up. All I could think of was how proud my parents would have been of me, had they been alive to see it.
My final time: 88:28
My step-mom (she IS my mom, for all intents and purposes; she raised me) called me on the way back to the car, in tears. She'd been watching for me on the TV, but hadn't seen me in the mob of people, and was so proud of me.. It meant so much that I wasn't alone.
The Eastman Road Race, which I just signed up to do, has a time limit on it. I'm not sure if it's always had one, or not. But it does now. Who knows? I might be the cause of this.
Let me explain.
Back in 2005, when I got serious, I was walking every day. Religiously, for one hour. And I did very well. But later in the year, when I lost steam, and kept trying in vain to kick start myself...that was when I discovered running. And how much I loved it.
I love everything about running: the way it makes me feel, but so much more than that. I love the way my feet feel when they strike the pavement. I love the way my mind grays out until there is nothing left but the rhythm of my stride. I love the sound of my breath in the stillness of pre-dawn. I love the smell of the track...or new-mown grass as I run by. I love running.
I also love knowing that I'm a runner...that I've accomplished things that many far more fit than I will never even attempt. Even if no one ever thinks I am by my appearance, I know. Such a sense of power and confidence is attached to that. I. Am. A. Runner.
Hell, yeah.
For years, growing up in Atlanta, I watched the runners in the Peachtree Road Race thunder past as I stood on the curb, and dreamed that I might one day get up the guts enough to do what they did. And when I started running, I found myself thinking about that race. One day....maybe next year....I'll run that race.
Except that next year didn't come. I didn't push myself...it was just a pipe dream, like most other things in my life. A bucket list item that would never get a check, except in my head.
In 2009, I decided, once again, to get serious. I had moved to TN a year ahead of my husband, who was finishing a contract with the state of GA before joining me, and I really wanted to get fit before he arrived, so that he would be proud of me. That was my goal...I wanted to do it for him.
Anyway....I've seen the Peachtree grow over the years from just a couple of hundred runners in the 70's to be the largest 10k in the world, with 60,000 runners. And I decided that 2009 was my year. I woke early one Sunday morning, at the allotted time, and readied my computer to enter....first come, first served, and I knew it would be a madhouse. Fortunately, I was able to grab a coveted slot, and before I realized what I was doing, I had registered. I was ecstatic. I was actually gonna do it!!! I was gonna run the Peachtree!!!
And then it hit me. Oh, God....I was gonna run the Peachtree. I had to do it now...I had signed the dotted line. I was committed. There was no turning back....the start line was coming, and on July 4th, I would be crossing it. Whether I crossed the finish line was up to me.
There's never been a motivator like spending money....at least, not to me. And the thought of receiving a race packet in the mail and never wearing that number was unthinkable. So....I started training. Hard.
By June, I was running 5 miles, easily, and bordering on 6. My mother in law suggested I enter a local race, the Covered Bridge 5k, to give me the experience of actually running a race before the BIG one, so I did. The morning of the race fell four weeks out before the Peachtree, and during my pre-race warm-up jog, I felt a crunch in my left hip. It wasn't painful, exactly....it was weird. And it left me feeling very shaky and wobbly. Still...I had come too far, and so I ran. Adrenaline got the best of me in the first quarter mile, but then I loosened up and headed for the highway. Turning the first corner, I felt my hip crunch again. At that point, I almost quit running....but I was determined to finish that race. My only goal was to not finish dead last...and as long as there was one turtle on that course slower than me, it was all good.
The entire race, I kept that one turtle in my sights, and eventually faught my way past her to finish. My final time: 42:22. And there were not one, but seven little turtles behind me.
I rested my hip a lot for the next two weeks, doing my best to give it time to heal before the Peachtree....and it felt good the day of the race. I had entered with a goal in mind of finishing in 90 minutes. When I checked my time at the final turn, I had exactly five minutes, and a half mile to go. I don't know where I got it, but I turned on the heat, and flew down 10th street, crossing the finish line in tears...exactly three blocks away from where I had grown up. All I could think of was how proud my parents would have been of me, had they been alive to see it.
My final time: 88:28
My step-mom (she IS my mom, for all intents and purposes; she raised me) called me on the way back to the car, in tears. She'd been watching for me on the TV, but hadn't seen me in the mob of people, and was so proud of me.. It meant so much that I wasn't alone.
After that, I just drifted a bit. I ran, but only half-heartedly. After all...I'd accomplished my goal, spectacularly, I might add....I had proven that I could go the distance, so I'd be ok when it came to the Eastman 10k I had already signed up for in September....
...right?
The day dawned bright and clear. I took a few laps around the parking lot, but I could tell it was gonna be a fight to finish the run. My lack of preparation was evident. I struggled so hard through that race, and by the second half, I was horror-struck that they were dismantling the water stations and taking down the signs by the time we passed. I hung with the last few stragglers for most of the way, but they finally pulled away in the fifth mile. And I was alone when I crossed the finish line.
Well...except for the guys in the golf cart behind me....the sweepers, bringing up the rear of the race. People cheered me...the ones that were left. I've never been so humiliated in my life. I finished dead last. They never recorded my time. And I swore I'd never run such a disorganized race again.
Except that it really wasn't the fault of the organizers....it was mine. All mine, and I can own up to that now. That's why I wanted to start back by entering THIS race. I have something to prove...to myself, and to them.
This time, I noticed that there is an 80 minute time limit in place. I'm not sure if there was one before or not, but I can't help wondering if my late finish (95-98, if I remember right) might have been the cause. They were tired of waiting around for stragglers.
So...I've been doing some calculating.
In order for me to finish this race in the allotted time, I will have to run it at a pace of 12:90. In order for me to run it in 75 minutes (five minutes hedge time), my pace will need to be 12:09. So, my goal is to run a 12 minute pace.
And as of yesterday (C25K week 2, day 2), my pace is 14:82. I've got a lot of work to do. But as God is my witness...I'll never be last again.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Out with the old...
I haven't posted much yet this week, but I have been doing really great, and regardless of what the scale may say on Friday, I feel really good about the choices I've made this week. I've been eating very well, watching my portion sizes and staying well within my calorie allotment every day. I've also managed to get some form of exercise in every day, (although yesterday was admittedly slim in that department), and am firmly in week two of the C25K plan and going strong.
I had told Keith a couple of weeks ago when I dusted off my old worn-out Asics that I wanted a new pair for my birthday, which I will celebrate next week. That's a hard admission for me to make, since this pair took me through so many miles, across the Covered Bridge for my first 5K, down Peachtree Street for my first 10K, and through the streets of Kingsport for my last 10K. They are slick on the bottom, all semblance of cushion and support are long gone, and there is literally no tread left. They are my badge of honor...the proof that I didn't just talk the talk...and I have battled letting them go. I have worn them far longer than I should have.
Still, the fact remains that if I intend on sticking to my plan of training for the Eastman in September, I can not afford to keep running in them. And that meant digging deep for a new pair.
Enter my mom...who just sent me 40 bucks for my birthday, early. Seeing as how my last pair cost me upwards of 180 bucks, I figured it would be a nice dent, but still didn't hold out much hope of actually being able to cough up the remainder. Mentally, I prepared myself for a visit to Wally World. But a girl I work with referred me to a great shop in downtown Johnson City to check out...they specialize in nothing but running shoes and supplies and can do gait analyses, which I've wanted to have done for quite a while. So, since I had to run an errand right down the street, I decided to drop by yesterday.
50 bucks. Fifty. Dollars.
SCORE.
Ladies and gentlemen, I am now the proud owner of a new pair of Asics Gel Cumulus running shoes. Can't WAIT to try these puppies out on the track this afternoon!
Monday, May 14, 2012
Weekend recap...
I had planned on posting all of this last night, but Real Life interfered in the form of my son and his wife invading our afternoon and staying until way past my bedtime last night. So....although I'll do my best not to make it a habit, this time couldn't be avoided.
Friday afternoon, I managed to complete week 1 of the C25K plan and limped home....sore, but happy.
Saturday was a lovely day, in all aspects. Although I woke up very sore in my ribcage and back, we spent the morning working on the house we're trying to buy next door, which, combined with the housecleaning I did when I got back home, gave me some great physical activity to log without being too terribly taxing. Still...I can tell I have a LOT to do to strengthen my core again.
Sunday, being Mother's Day, my fuzzy son woke me, eager to go hiking. It was overcast, but cool, and Keith and I decided to go explore a section of the Appalachian Trail that we haven't hiked yet. We are very, very lucky, in that living where we do in the TN mountains close to the NC border, we have easy access to the AT, which runs all through our county, including along the Iron Mountain ridgeline, directly behind our property (which backs up to the national forest).
Anyway, we dressed in our raggedy hiking duds and set out armed with a backpack full of water bottles and a leash.
We found the going to be fairly well kept up, although hilly, and the nice part was that although there were marshy parts, the nice club that maintains the trail had thoughtfully provided lots of little walkways to keep us high and dry over the mud. Well....the two legged of us, anyway....Luggie just plowed right through. Apparently, he's not partial to the way the wire mesh feels against his paws. Can't say as I blame him, there, but it gives me the willies when I cross one of them...not because of the mesh, but because I can't help thinking to myself 'will this hold me up?' And yes, of course it will....that's five two by fours, laid narrow side up. A REAL elephant could stand on one and it would hold....maybe two.
When we set out, the intention was to walk for an hour and a half, then turn around and head back, because we were expecting one of the kids to drop by in the afternoon. But we made good time, and an hour saw us having covered a fair amount of ground. Keith started worrying about me overdoing it, since my back had been so sore the day before, and as much as I hated it, I agreed. I certainly didn't want to be put out of commission this week, now that I feel like I'm back on track!
Friday afternoon, I managed to complete week 1 of the C25K plan and limped home....sore, but happy.
Saturday was a lovely day, in all aspects. Although I woke up very sore in my ribcage and back, we spent the morning working on the house we're trying to buy next door, which, combined with the housecleaning I did when I got back home, gave me some great physical activity to log without being too terribly taxing. Still...I can tell I have a LOT to do to strengthen my core again.
Sunday, being Mother's Day, my fuzzy son woke me, eager to go hiking. It was overcast, but cool, and Keith and I decided to go explore a section of the Appalachian Trail that we haven't hiked yet. We are very, very lucky, in that living where we do in the TN mountains close to the NC border, we have easy access to the AT, which runs all through our county, including along the Iron Mountain ridgeline, directly behind our property (which backs up to the national forest). 
We've been told that there is actually a spur up there somewhere that links our property to the AT, but haven't found it yet. Of course, we haven't looked too hard yet, either.
That will come in time, though.
Anyway, we dressed in our raggedy hiking duds and set out armed with a backpack full of water bottles and a leash. 
We found the going to be fairly well kept up, although hilly, and the nice part was that although there were marshy parts, the nice club that maintains the trail had thoughtfully provided lots of little walkways to keep us high and dry over the mud. Well....the two legged of us, anyway....Luggie just plowed right through. Apparently, he's not partial to the way the wire mesh feels against his paws. Can't say as I blame him, there, but it gives me the willies when I cross one of them...not because of the mesh, but because I can't help thinking to myself 'will this hold me up?' And yes, of course it will....that's five two by fours, laid narrow side up. A REAL elephant could stand on one and it would hold....maybe two.
When we set out, the intention was to walk for an hour and a half, then turn around and head back, because we were expecting one of the kids to drop by in the afternoon. But we made good time, and an hour saw us having covered a fair amount of ground. Keith started worrying about me overdoing it, since my back had been so sore the day before, and as much as I hated it, I agreed. I certainly didn't want to be put out of commission this week, now that I feel like I'm back on track! 
So after an hour I consented to turning around and heading back toward the car. I really wish we'd had more time, though, because there's actually a shelter directly above our house, and I wanted to at least make it that far. Eventually, I'd like to try to work our way down the mountain from there to our house and find that spur....SUPER awesome!
Anyway....I saw this bit of wildlife on the way back to the car, so I thought I'd snap a pic. Ironic that the only living animal I'd see on the trip was the very one I feel such a strong kinship to. That's ok, though....soon enough, that will change.
The overcast sky began dripping on us on the way home, so we hustled, and made it back in forty-five minutes, which I thought was pretty good. The best part was not being sore, though. Not when I finished, not yesterday (at all), and not this morning when I woke up! Definite progress...if I'm not sore, then that running last week must have started taking effect on my muscles.
After the kids went home last night, I finally started doing some online research for a project I've been running through the back of my mind for the past week or so. I had it confirmed on another blog post the other day, and I know from my own experience that nothing is as motivating as signing on the dotted line for a race, so last night, I downloaded an entry form for my nemesis...
This was the last race I ran, back in 2009 before I stopped running altogether. I came in dead last. This year, I'm running it again, to prove to myself I can do it. And this year, I noticed that they have put a time limit on it: 80 minutes. I ran the Peachtree Road Race 10K that same year in 88:28, and my goal was to do sub-90. I was so proud of that, but also so cognizant of the fact that I ran like a turtle....I've always wanted to run faster.
I'm not sure if I am CAPABLE of running faster....but I'm about to find out. I sent my registration form and check in this morning, and I hate to waste money. If I get to September and I can't run sub-80, I won't run...and that is not acceptable to me. I WILL NOT be the tail again. They didn't even record my time last time. If I plan on proving something to myself, I'll have to do even better than that....sub-75, at least.
So I'd better get the lead out, because effective now, there is no turning back.
Friday, May 11, 2012
Reckoning
Ok, so my last (and first) weigh-in was on Saturday, so technically I wasn't due to weigh in until tomorrow morning, but since I want to start weighing in on Fridays instead, I decided to go ahead and jump the gun a bit.
Overall, I have been really pleased with my progress this week. There is definitely room for improvement (which I'm happy about), but I also stayed on course with my eating, watched the portions, learned a lot in the process, and managed to make a start on the track, too.
I've heard from several people who have sworn on the C25K plan, so I started that, too...not so much to build up my running again....distances have never been my problem. But I really want to learn how to run faster. I'm tired of turtles passing me at a trot.
Standing in the breakroom this afternoon, I realized I was staring at my reflection in the full length mirror there, so I snapped a couple of shots while I was waiting for my lunch to warm (and while nobody was in there).
Please note the fork in my hand...which appears to be permanently attached. I may need to consider surgical removal.
Another thing I'd like to point out is the black pants I'm wearing. This is the only pair of pants I own that fit me, other than one pair of jeans that I wear on the weekends, and some old, paint stained sweatpants...and I've been wearing them to work every single day for the past two years, because I can't find any that fit me in the waist AND in the length.
My first goal award will be new pants. This weekend, I will be formulating my goals, and if not before then, I will post them on Monday.
Oh, by the way....I'm down 3 pounds this week. 2.8, to be exact, but myfitnesspro.com doesn't track points. I'm good with that. And I'm most definitely on my way. :)
Thursday, May 10, 2012
A little history...
This morning, I finally finished reading my new favorite blog, http://www.asmallloss.com/. I can't remember the last time I cried as much as I have going throug that blog...both with tears of joy AND shared frustration. This woman could be me...if I was half my age, and with a whole lot of my daughter, Jessica (who is about her age) thrown in. At the very least, I feel a strong kinship. This woman weighed 345 pounds, and has lost over 150 of it. She is not to her goal yet, though...she still has another 50-ish pounds to go.
It is not that she has accomplished so much, although she certainly has. It's not that she has spent the last ten months in a slump...although she's done that, too. It is that despite everything she has and IS going through, she has not thrown in the towel. She continues to fight, even when she thinks she isn't.
Oh. My. God. Why couldn't I see then what I seem to so clearly be able to see now??
I have not always had an issue with my weight. When I was a kid, I was skinny, lanky, and wouldn't eat. My family worried incessantly, despite the doctor's constant reasurrances that I was completely within the normal range, and that when I got hungry, I would eat (which I did).
But right about the time I hit puberty, life reared its ugly head, and I went into a tailspin. I've been fighting ever since, mainly with my self-image. I always, always believed I was fat, ugly, slow....and so I gravitated toward what I believed I was. I gained weight steadily over the years, stopped taking care of myself and became increasingly sedentary....a self-fulfilling prophecy. For EVER, I thought that I needed to lose 50 pounds....then 75, then 100....and so on. But looking back, it really wasn't all that bad, realistically. As a sophomore in high school, I can remember thinking that I was HUGE, that I would never have a boyfriend...then low and behold, a boy turned his head and looked at me, and the next thing I knew, I was engaged, despite my elephantine size. The reality? I was 5', 10" tall and weighed 145 pounds....hardly the gargantuan proportions I felt like. Perception is everything.
Time marched on, and my perception ballooned, always one step ahead of my waistline, and sending me into a deeper and more hopeless funk with every pound. There was no help for me, I decided. Every diet failed, every halfhearted exercise plan ended before it got started. I would always be big, and I would always be unhealthy....and I would always, always be miserable. That was life.
Several times over the years, I would try one gimmick or another and manage by some miracle to peel off twenty or thirty pounds....once by illness....but always, I would lose steam and it would come back with a vengeance. I had convinced myself that I would always be fat, ugly and slow.
Critical mass came at the weight of 268 lbs. I was thirty-four years old, miserable with my life, and eating myself to death. Moving back to Atlanta to a more active job saved my life, but only marginally. I hung around the 250+ mark for years after that.
Then I turned 40. And my entire life changed in the blink of an eye when my slim husband died of a massive heart attack at the age of 51.
It's hard to describe the desolation to someone that has never (thankfully) been through that experience. Suffice it to say that in the aftermath, I went a little crazy. Did a few things I'm not proud of, alienated a few people in my life, made some really really bad decisions for almost two years. Then, thank God, I woke up.
I was sitting in bed one day, watching TV with a massive bowl of mac and cheese in my lap, and feeling, as always, really, really guilty. My husband Bill, although outwardly fit, was a mess inwardly, and terribly unhealthy. Because of his ultra picky nature, his eating habits were crap, and he smoked. And I realized that 51 wasn't so very far away, and I was far more unhealthy than he had ever been. I didn't want to die.
Cue the 6 Week Body Makeover infomercial.
This was a plan that I had had my eye on for about five years, because it supposedly was tailored toward the individual, unlike every other plan out there. That day, I made a decision to bite the bullet and order the plan. I figured I had nothing to lose but weight. BUT, since this time I was gonna be laying out actual money for this (which I had never done before, outside of the cost of a can of one gimmick or another here and there), I made a bargain with myself: I would lay out the cash, but I had to stick with it religiously for six weeks....meaning, no matter what it told me to do, I would do it....no backing out.
In the first six weeks, I lost 20 lbs. So I kept going.
Every week, I would step on the scale, and 3 more pounds would be gone. I could take it to the bank. Because I was walking five days a week, and eating very small, but frequent meals, and always the same thing every day, my body responded. And because I was doing resistance training two days a week, my body got curves. At the end of 4 months, I had lost 55 lbs, and I was staring 200 in the face. I will never forget how I felt when I stepped on the scale and saw 199.
I panicked. And then I stopped. Because I could not face who I was becoming. I could not face the girl in the mirror.
In all fairness, it took about two years before I really started gaining the weight back. In the interim, I fell in love and got married to a massively supportive guy.... but now, I'm back up to 245.8, and staring at my 49th birthday. Outwardly, I've never been happier....but inwardly, I haven't been happy for a long time, and I'm ready to change that.
Between the time that I stopped and now, I have tried to restart hundreds of times. I even started running for a while, and managed to run my first 5k, and two 10k's, which I will talk about more later. The feeling was exhilarating, and I am looking forward to getting back into that. But this time, I want to do it for the right reasons. I don't want to do it because someone else wants me to, or expects me to, or because I think they do. And I want to talk myself through the scary parts when they come, because this time I know they will come, and I will be ready. This blog, I'm hoping will help with that.
In the meantime, I have Mary, and her amazing blog. Mary understands....she fights this fight every single day. Now, I plan on fighting with her.
And this time, I will win.
It is not that she has accomplished so much, although she certainly has. It's not that she has spent the last ten months in a slump...although she's done that, too. It is that despite everything she has and IS going through, she has not thrown in the towel. She continues to fight, even when she thinks she isn't.
Oh. My. God. Why couldn't I see then what I seem to so clearly be able to see now??
I have not always had an issue with my weight. When I was a kid, I was skinny, lanky, and wouldn't eat. My family worried incessantly, despite the doctor's constant reasurrances that I was completely within the normal range, and that when I got hungry, I would eat (which I did).
But right about the time I hit puberty, life reared its ugly head, and I went into a tailspin. I've been fighting ever since, mainly with my self-image. I always, always believed I was fat, ugly, slow....and so I gravitated toward what I believed I was. I gained weight steadily over the years, stopped taking care of myself and became increasingly sedentary....a self-fulfilling prophecy. For EVER, I thought that I needed to lose 50 pounds....then 75, then 100....and so on. But looking back, it really wasn't all that bad, realistically. As a sophomore in high school, I can remember thinking that I was HUGE, that I would never have a boyfriend...then low and behold, a boy turned his head and looked at me, and the next thing I knew, I was engaged, despite my elephantine size. The reality? I was 5', 10" tall and weighed 145 pounds....hardly the gargantuan proportions I felt like. Perception is everything.
Time marched on, and my perception ballooned, always one step ahead of my waistline, and sending me into a deeper and more hopeless funk with every pound. There was no help for me, I decided. Every diet failed, every halfhearted exercise plan ended before it got started. I would always be big, and I would always be unhealthy....and I would always, always be miserable. That was life.
Several times over the years, I would try one gimmick or another and manage by some miracle to peel off twenty or thirty pounds....once by illness....but always, I would lose steam and it would come back with a vengeance. I had convinced myself that I would always be fat, ugly and slow.
Critical mass came at the weight of 268 lbs. I was thirty-four years old, miserable with my life, and eating myself to death. Moving back to Atlanta to a more active job saved my life, but only marginally. I hung around the 250+ mark for years after that.
Then I turned 40. And my entire life changed in the blink of an eye when my slim husband died of a massive heart attack at the age of 51.
It's hard to describe the desolation to someone that has never (thankfully) been through that experience. Suffice it to say that in the aftermath, I went a little crazy. Did a few things I'm not proud of, alienated a few people in my life, made some really really bad decisions for almost two years. Then, thank God, I woke up.
I was sitting in bed one day, watching TV with a massive bowl of mac and cheese in my lap, and feeling, as always, really, really guilty. My husband Bill, although outwardly fit, was a mess inwardly, and terribly unhealthy. Because of his ultra picky nature, his eating habits were crap, and he smoked. And I realized that 51 wasn't so very far away, and I was far more unhealthy than he had ever been. I didn't want to die.
Cue the 6 Week Body Makeover infomercial.
This was a plan that I had had my eye on for about five years, because it supposedly was tailored toward the individual, unlike every other plan out there. That day, I made a decision to bite the bullet and order the plan. I figured I had nothing to lose but weight. BUT, since this time I was gonna be laying out actual money for this (which I had never done before, outside of the cost of a can of one gimmick or another here and there), I made a bargain with myself: I would lay out the cash, but I had to stick with it religiously for six weeks....meaning, no matter what it told me to do, I would do it....no backing out.
In the first six weeks, I lost 20 lbs. So I kept going.
Every week, I would step on the scale, and 3 more pounds would be gone. I could take it to the bank. Because I was walking five days a week, and eating very small, but frequent meals, and always the same thing every day, my body responded. And because I was doing resistance training two days a week, my body got curves. At the end of 4 months, I had lost 55 lbs, and I was staring 200 in the face. I will never forget how I felt when I stepped on the scale and saw 199.
I panicked. And then I stopped. Because I could not face who I was becoming. I could not face the girl in the mirror.
In all fairness, it took about two years before I really started gaining the weight back. In the interim, I fell in love and got married to a massively supportive guy.... but now, I'm back up to 245.8, and staring at my 49th birthday. Outwardly, I've never been happier....but inwardly, I haven't been happy for a long time, and I'm ready to change that.
Between the time that I stopped and now, I have tried to restart hundreds of times. I even started running for a while, and managed to run my first 5k, and two 10k's, which I will talk about more later. The feeling was exhilarating, and I am looking forward to getting back into that. But this time, I want to do it for the right reasons. I don't want to do it because someone else wants me to, or expects me to, or because I think they do. And I want to talk myself through the scary parts when they come, because this time I know they will come, and I will be ready. This blog, I'm hoping will help with that.
In the meantime, I have Mary, and her amazing blog. Mary understands....she fights this fight every single day. Now, I plan on fighting with her.
And this time, I will win.
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Lessons learned
This weekend, I've done my best to lay the groundwork for good, solid progress in the days and weeks to come. Along with getting massive inspiration and ideas from my newfound favorite blog, I've also taken steps to sign up for a free account with www.myfitnesspal.com, which will not only allow me to keep track of my progress via the little ticker located at the top of this page, I can also access it from my phone AND the web, and use it to log in my food and exercise every day to stay on track.
This has proved useful, but also served as a wakeup call, on the very first day. Here I've been, plugging along on this primal diet, thinking that I was doing so good....but when called upon to actually log in every single thing I ate, the very first day proved horrifying in unexpected ways. I had NO idea that I was using so many calories with tiny things....additions that I didn't think of or even particularly need!
For example, our standard breakfast consists of scrambled eggs and bacon, with a side of fresh berries or fruit in season. It wasn't the eggs or bacon...or even the butter....that got me. It was not thinking about the heavy cream I was using in the eggs. Yikes!
This lifestyle change is gonna require a whole lot more thought than just eating differently or less. It's gonna require me thinking about EVERYTHING.
I've also done some research on the Couch to 5K running plan at www.coolrunning.com, and I think I might give that a try this week. Although I don't think I'll have any problem getting my running back in terms of distance and stamina, it has always been the speed that has killed me, and will remain that way unless I do something to improve it. I'm hoping the C25K will help me with that. I'll report as I go.
I will say that I'm very excited about the week ahead!
This has proved useful, but also served as a wakeup call, on the very first day. Here I've been, plugging along on this primal diet, thinking that I was doing so good....but when called upon to actually log in every single thing I ate, the very first day proved horrifying in unexpected ways. I had NO idea that I was using so many calories with tiny things....additions that I didn't think of or even particularly need!
For example, our standard breakfast consists of scrambled eggs and bacon, with a side of fresh berries or fruit in season. It wasn't the eggs or bacon...or even the butter....that got me. It was not thinking about the heavy cream I was using in the eggs. Yikes!
This lifestyle change is gonna require a whole lot more thought than just eating differently or less. It's gonna require me thinking about EVERYTHING.
I've also done some research on the Couch to 5K running plan at www.coolrunning.com, and I think I might give that a try this week. Although I don't think I'll have any problem getting my running back in terms of distance and stamina, it has always been the speed that has killed me, and will remain that way unless I do something to improve it. I'm hoping the C25K will help me with that. I'll report as I go.
I will say that I'm very excited about the week ahead!
Saturday, May 5, 2012
Step One
I've been doing a lot of reading this week, mainly due to a blog I've stumbled across by a woman who I feel so connected to, it borderlines on obsession. Her name is Mary, and you can find her blog at www.asmallloss.com. Her honesty is ruthless and it leads to the most amazing insight, both for her and to me. I was so profoundly affected and moved by the most recent blog entry that I was compelled to go back to day one, and am slowly working my way through the past two years of her journey. She has brought me to tears numerous times already, and I've still got almost a year to go.
The best part: she's a runner. She knows the joy of pounding pavement in a way that a non-runner will never understand. Even more, she knows what being an overweight woman and FINDING that joy feels like.
Consequently, I have laced up my worn-out Asics and hit the road/track three times this week; not running, but at least walking. Tuesday, I did a mile and a half along two hilly, but shady residential streets in my sleepy little mountain town. Wednesday, I did two miles on the track at the Jr. High, and Thursday, I walked along our equivalent of Main Street, which is kind of a blend of both. Not as hilly as Tuesday, but more shade than the track, and I did about two and a half miles. I have to say, I was feeling pretty good about it, and it felt SO good to be back out there.
Then Friday came.
Mind you, I had planned for this.
A couple of weeks ago, my in-laws had told us to 'save the date', because they had something special planned to celebrate our birthdays (Keith's is the last of April, and mine is the last of May). The 'something' turned out to be a military tattoo (Scottish fife/pipe and drum bands performing with military precision....google "Edinburgh Tattoo" and you'll get the idea), which we would BOTH have enjoyed tremendously, but it got cancelled earlier in the day, so they decided to take us out to eat instead. We chose a nice restaurant in town, and set out.
I started out good....well....I started out with good intentions. I felt good about the grilled shrimp and veggie skewers and side salad I chose. But then the rolls got to the table (I had two), then the appetizer (I had probably a third of a plate of nachos being shared by four people). After the main entree, my chocoholic husband ordered the most GINORMOUS piece of peanut butter pie, drenched in chocolate sauce I've ever seen...literally. While we were waiting on that, I noticed he had not eaten his baked apples, so I dug in to those, and ate about half before the pie came.
My mother in law took about a third, and Keith and I shared what was left. I was only going to take a bite, I don't even LIKE peanut butter pie. But I ended up eating as much, if not more, than Keith did. Afterwards, I felt sick. Really sick. After sticking basically to a primal diet, my system is nowhere near able to process that much sugar, and I think I sent myself into insulin shock. I will say that my obsessive/compulsive eating has never wandered into binge/purge territory, but I came horribly close last night. All I could think about was getting that mess OUT of my system.
Then I thought....I really deserve to suffer through this. I really hope that I remember how disgusting I feel right now. I know that I will never, ever look at peanut butter pie the same. Ever.
Lesson learned, I guess. Today is a new day. And I intend to make the most of it.
The best part: she's a runner. She knows the joy of pounding pavement in a way that a non-runner will never understand. Even more, she knows what being an overweight woman and FINDING that joy feels like.
Consequently, I have laced up my worn-out Asics and hit the road/track three times this week; not running, but at least walking. Tuesday, I did a mile and a half along two hilly, but shady residential streets in my sleepy little mountain town. Wednesday, I did two miles on the track at the Jr. High, and Thursday, I walked along our equivalent of Main Street, which is kind of a blend of both. Not as hilly as Tuesday, but more shade than the track, and I did about two and a half miles. I have to say, I was feeling pretty good about it, and it felt SO good to be back out there.
Then Friday came.
Mind you, I had planned for this.
A couple of weeks ago, my in-laws had told us to 'save the date', because they had something special planned to celebrate our birthdays (Keith's is the last of April, and mine is the last of May). The 'something' turned out to be a military tattoo (Scottish fife/pipe and drum bands performing with military precision....google "Edinburgh Tattoo" and you'll get the idea), which we would BOTH have enjoyed tremendously, but it got cancelled earlier in the day, so they decided to take us out to eat instead. We chose a nice restaurant in town, and set out.
I started out good....well....I started out with good intentions. I felt good about the grilled shrimp and veggie skewers and side salad I chose. But then the rolls got to the table (I had two), then the appetizer (I had probably a third of a plate of nachos being shared by four people). After the main entree, my chocoholic husband ordered the most GINORMOUS piece of peanut butter pie, drenched in chocolate sauce I've ever seen...literally. While we were waiting on that, I noticed he had not eaten his baked apples, so I dug in to those, and ate about half before the pie came.
My mother in law took about a third, and Keith and I shared what was left. I was only going to take a bite, I don't even LIKE peanut butter pie. But I ended up eating as much, if not more, than Keith did. Afterwards, I felt sick. Really sick. After sticking basically to a primal diet, my system is nowhere near able to process that much sugar, and I think I sent myself into insulin shock. I will say that my obsessive/compulsive eating has never wandered into binge/purge territory, but I came horribly close last night. All I could think about was getting that mess OUT of my system.
Then I thought....I really deserve to suffer through this. I really hope that I remember how disgusting I feel right now. I know that I will never, ever look at peanut butter pie the same. Ever.
Lesson learned, I guess. Today is a new day. And I intend to make the most of it.
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Panic
It's amazing to me, looking back over what I've already posted here, how much emphasis was paid to what I ate and how little to why. Oh, it was mentioned...but only in passing. The remarkable thing was that I was exhibiting nothing more than frenzied obsession and panic.
Way over a year removed from all this, I can honestly say that my life has calmed down quite a bit from then, even on the most harried of days, I don't feel the panic that I did then, thank God. What I do feel is change in the air...and that's a good thing. A very good thing.
Since the beginning of January, Keith and I have turned our attention to trying to making healthier food choices. After several discussions with assorted family members who had all made very positive changes by going 'primal' with their eating, we decided to give it a try, too.
The result: awesome. It's not so much the weight, it's the feeling of doing something healthy for my body by eating wholesome, nutritious foods, NOT loaded with sugars and chemicals, not already processed, but as nature intended. It's done good things for my overall perspective, and shifted my personal focus OFF of weight loss and back onto health...where it should have been all along.
It was just the kick I've been looking for all along to spur me forward. And, as I have learned recently, all forward motion counts.
I know I have such a long way to go on my personal journey. But going forward, I really want my focus to be different....I want to take things slow, and realize that it's not about the destination; it's about living in the NOW and making the best possible choices in all aspects of life at every given moment.
It's a start.
Way over a year removed from all this, I can honestly say that my life has calmed down quite a bit from then, even on the most harried of days, I don't feel the panic that I did then, thank God. What I do feel is change in the air...and that's a good thing. A very good thing.
Since the beginning of January, Keith and I have turned our attention to trying to making healthier food choices. After several discussions with assorted family members who had all made very positive changes by going 'primal' with their eating, we decided to give it a try, too.
The result: awesome. It's not so much the weight, it's the feeling of doing something healthy for my body by eating wholesome, nutritious foods, NOT loaded with sugars and chemicals, not already processed, but as nature intended. It's done good things for my overall perspective, and shifted my personal focus OFF of weight loss and back onto health...where it should have been all along.
It was just the kick I've been looking for all along to spur me forward. And, as I have learned recently, all forward motion counts.
I know I have such a long way to go on my personal journey. But going forward, I really want my focus to be different....I want to take things slow, and realize that it's not about the destination; it's about living in the NOW and making the best possible choices in all aspects of life at every given moment.
It's a start.
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