Lies, Damn Lies, No 4

Well Carla has done it again.  I read her post this morning on how she endeavors to instill confidence in her daughter and she asked for comments, saying "what do you believe is one thing adults can do to help preserve girls’ self-esteem?"

I've been meaning to write a blog post.  My last post isn't what I really want on my home page.  This new post was going to be about some small changes I've implemented in my routine recently.  I've also been noodling on a post about 2016 goals (what with the new year looming, who isn't?)

So clearly it was time for a new post.  My attempt at a short comment in response to Carla's question, turned into THIS:

I once tried out for little league baseball.  My brothers were both super athletic and loved it, and one summer I thought maybe I'd give it a shot.  At tryouts (I didn't know then but I do now... there's no being "cut" from the team, you just get put in different leagues or on different teams based on your ability.)(As an adult, I have the language for this - it wasn't "tryouts"; it was a "skills assessment".)

But anyway, at tryouts, the first exercise was fielding the ball.  Kids lined up and one at a time, you went onto the field and some adult (a "coach"? was this The Coach?) hit 10 balls in your general direction for you to catch.  I was terrified of being hit in the face and didn't catch anything that came at me in the air.  Not the pop-ups, sure as hell not the line drive.  I think I actually just squeezed my eyes shut and held out my glove.  Balls 10; CPAGrrrl zero.

Next, he hit 10 ground balls in my general direction.  This I thought I had a chance at.
But I missed all of them.
Every.  Single.  One.
All.  TEN.

• They went around me, 
• They came at me faster than I expected, 
• They went straight between my legs while I flailed with that glove in one hand and reached with my other, bare, hand in desperation.  

I failed.  

Like, really, REALLY failed.  

And in front of our entire neighborhood.

In front of my father and both my brothers. 

The whole process probably took less than 5 minutes but it seemed to go on for hours.  I don't think I'd ever been THAT bad at ANYthing before. I was beyond embarrassed.  More than that - I had a great vocabulary - I could list TEN different words for how I felt.

I was mortified.

I was crushed.

I was humiliated.

I was ashamed.

I tried to hold my head up as I got back in line for the next round, our turn to hit.  The kid in front of me - I can't recall his name but I knew him from the neighborhood (and we were not friends) - he said something, berating me for not even being able to pick up a ground ball.

That was it.  I burst into tears as my father walked up.  I imagine he was saying something cheerful and encouraging.  I also imagine he had no idea what to do with a crying potential-ballplayer.  I imagine how confounded he must have felt.  (Basing this primarily on my own utter confusion any time someone begins crying in a situation where it's the last thing I'd expect.)  I don't know if he asked me if I wanted to leave, or if I said I wanted to or what.  But that's what happened next; I went home.  Baseball tryouts:  OVER.

I've learned to enjoy watching baseball.  But I've never been part of a team sport.  I was on a youth football cheer squad.  But my mom was the coach.  I'm not sure I ever really gave myself credit for that.  (Perhaps I should have.  Perhaps I should still. Perhaps I should.)  In high school, I started tryouts for the volleyball team, but quit before the first cut.  I have never joined in a company softball game.  The physical activities I participate in now are all individual - running, walking, biking, swimming.  I rarely even join a class at my gym.  This stuff isn't "my dad's fault."  Hell, I wouldn't say any of this stuff is even a negative outcome.  But I believe this stuff was influenced by the outcome of that day.  I wish my future choices had been influenced by a moment where I stayed in that line, even though I didn't want to.  I might have found out I was better at hitting the ball.

CPAGrrrl Cheerleader

Maybe I wouldn't have learned to be better at going after a literal ground ball.  Maybe I am simply Not Good At That.  But maybe I would have learned sooner how to go after a metaphorical one.  My father accidentally taught me that day, that it was OK to quit when something was a physical challenge.  And I believe NOW, that was a lesson I would have been better off without.  

I learned at an early age that my brain was a powerful tool muscle, that there are very few academic challenges I can't overcome with some effort.  And those lessons have stuck with me and gotten me through countless struggles.

I learned early to value what my MIND was capable of.

• Sometimes you need more time, 
• Sometimes you need to ask the right person for help, 
• but sooner or later, 
• ALL problems have an appropriate solution.  (correct? maybe, sometimes there are more than one of those) (and sometimes there are none.)

This GRRRL ENJOYED using her brain for fun and learning.

At the same time, I have walked away from countless physical challenges, saying:

• "I'd never be able to do that." (says fucking who?) 
• "I have no upper-body strength." (True, but why was that viewed as a permanent condition?) 
• "I am not very coordinated." (I imagine that can be remedied or at least improved upon with some practice.) 
• "I fall down a lot." (OK frankly that's just truth.  I fell down LAST Friday and was limping for 2 days.)

This GRRRL knew the value of long hours practicing, working to learn a new skill.

I think the concept I'm after here is "GRIT."[Thank you, Wikipedia.]  GRIT [thank you, amazing Ted Talk.] can be taught, and I eventually found it in my own way.  I just didn't have it yet, not when it came to "sports-y" things.  I believe GRIT to be the most important thing I can teach my child, the most important thing I learned from my parents, from my upbringing.

It took GRIT to keep going back to school after every obstacle that interrupted forward progress.  I was never ashamed that it took 12 years to finish that degree.  I worked my ass off EVERY MINUTE of those 12 years.

There are moments as a parent when you blow it.  Sometimes you KNOW you blew it - that time you snapped at your son for something small but really it was because your boss made you feel like shit at work that day and you hadn't had a chance to decompress before picking up the kids from school - you know you blew it that minute.  You do what you do - maybe apologize, maybe not, maybe you try to make up for it some way, definitely you try not to DO that again... (Parental GRIT in action.)

But sometimes - and as a parent these are the things that scare the crap out of me - sometimes you don't know you blew it.  My father blew it that day.  I'm sure he didn't realize it.  Certainly at the time, I had no idea anyone besides me was blowing it.  And it's not that he did anything wrong.  But looking back with the clarity of a 40-year-old woman who wishes she'd had more appreciation for what her BODY was capable of, as well as her MIND, I sure wish he'd found a way to make sure I stayed to the end of tryouts.

LIES I TELL MYSELF

(and proof they're not real)

No. 4

"I CAN'T DO [this thing]"

LIE.

Here's the truth:

I don't know how to do [that thing]. 

Live it. Run it. A Manifesto of Sorts?

I am applying for the 261 Fearless Ambassador program.

One of the questions is this:

If you could give advice to other women who are trying to incorporate running into their life, what advice do you want to share with them? 

This question sparked some passion in me that I could barely control.  I had to edit it down to the space allotted for responses.  So I thought I'd share it.

Here is my answer:

When I started running, I did everything I could to do it in private.  I didn't want anyone to see me trying to run, trying to teach myself how to run.  I had led a very sedentary life and in my late 20s I was trying to completely change how I viewed myself, the type of activities I spent my time on, and what I wanted to do with my life outside of work.  

I was afraid other runners would ridicule me, I was afraid that drivers on the street would honk and make fun of me, yell things from their car windows and embarrass me.  I was fat and I felt old and clumsy and I was terrified of being seen in public trying to change that.  

Eventually I gained the confidence to join a group of beginner runners.  Essentially it was a Couch to 5k-type of program and it COMPLETELY CHANGED MY WORLD.  My outlook on this activity was radically changed by the time I'd finished the 10-week program.  

I learned that the running community is not a group of high school jocks who are going to make fun of me for being slower or for struggling.  It’s a group of SUPPORTERS who have my back!  

The “intimidation” and "fear" I experienced was really more about fear within myself.  Fear of failing, fear of succeeding, or maybe just fear of trying something new.  

Don’t let THAT stop you!  

NEVER LET FEAR STOP YOU FROM DOING WHAT YOU WANT!  

Go out in the street!  

Run and walk on the trails locally! 

If you really need an excuse or to take attention from yourself, 

GET A RUNNING PARTNER - GET A DOG!  ANYTHING.  

Just don't ever let fear control your actions.  

It's YOUR life.  

Live it.  

Run it.

Actually, now that I've written that last bit, I like it so much I think I'll make it my new tag line.  Because this blog isn't really about faster times and weight loss these days; it's about how I'm living my life, and the ways I'm changing how I live my life.  I like it!

Happy, Safe and Warm

This post first appeared as a "Guest Post" on www.carlabirnberg.com. Carla is amazing - check her out!

The Hubs and I rescued this pitbull two years ago.  He's anxious, sometimes unpredictable, and early on, there were moments when he was downright scary.

We didn't know his history.  His behaviour and responses were like nothing we'd encountered in previous pets.  We wondered how to train him.  We worried if we didn't fix him address the behaviours, he'd do something really bad and end up euthanized. Longstoryshort, we brought in a professional who taught us how to teach this dog.  How to read him, how to redirect him.  How to remind him that he doesn't have to be in charge all the time.  And slowly, he learned to trust that we could keep him safe.

He still gets agitated sometimes, and when he does, one way I calm him is to make him sit (this is essential - he can't "hear" me if he's too agitated to sit), and I kneel (get down on his level), hold him steady with my face right by his (but not blocking his view of The Scary Thing That's Got Him Upset) and whisper as calmly as possible:

The world is a happy, safe and warm place.

No one and nothing can hurt you here.

Happy, Relaxed Louie

Until Louie bounded into our lives, I don't think I ever gave much voice to my own feelings on whether the world is truly a happy, safe and warm place.  Certainly people and things can hurt me (and have, of course).  From my early teenage years until I was... well into my 20's I guess, I can't quite say... I didn't really find the world to be all that happy, safe and warm.  For a variety of reasons that I won't go into, there was a great deal of instability in my life that carried on even once I had the ability to control such things (which one cannot do as a teen, but somewhere between 14 and 25 that responsibility shifts and it's on you, right?)  During that time, I would not have used any of those words, Happy-Safe-Warm to describe my experience of life in general.

I can identify the moment when that began to shift.  It wasn't a switch that was flipped (I don't feel safe did not overnight become I Feel Safe), but the day I met The Hubs, my world view began to change.  It was not "love at first sight" but within a matter of weeks, I found myself gravitating to wherever he was.  I wanted to cocoon myself in his apartment and never leave.

Louie is a fan of the Cocoon Lifestyle

I wouldn't have used these words at the time, but looking back,

I felt that as long as I was there, 

I was cloaked in something that made me feel 

Happy, Safe, and Warm.  

I felt that no one and nothing could hurt me, as long as I stayed inside of that bubble

And why would anyone leave such a bubble?  Ever?

The Hubs is a talker.  When he's happy, he's talking.  When he's angry, he's talking (but louder).  When he's reminiscing, he's talking (storytelling, more slowly).  When he's tipsy, he's talking (animatedly). When he's agitated, he's talking (faster and about anything and everything BUT the thing that has him agitated). He was willing and able to do all the talking, and he didn't need me to say much.  No pressure to talk about my feelings (yech) or my history (oh dear god no I don't want to get into that) or my plans for the future (at that point there were none to speak of) or my worries or my fears or any other damn thing.  I could sit with my feelings and listen to him and when (if) I wanted to talk, he'd listen.  Meantime, he would carry our conversations.

I wasn't SILENT, mind you.  I just didn't want to talk about anything REAL.  Not then.  I wanted to stay in the bubble, and I didn't want to acknowledge that anything else existed. And these days, The Hubs is one of maybe three people I really want to "get real" with.  (Yes, I know.  Louie isn't the only one around here with Trust Issues.) (Or maybe not? Maybe all anyone really needs is those three people.)

I read two posts from Carla Birnberg recently that sort of rattled my brain, kept bouncing around and wouldn't leave me. The first, about the concept of having a Safe Person, brought all this history to mind.  It reminded me how unstable, unsafe I felt in the Bad Old Days of my early 20's.  It reminded me what a blessing I have in The Hubs.  He has been my Safe Person.  We didn't call it that, though.  We just said "You're my favorite thing to do."

The second was this post about... well, to be honest, her words prompted me to talk to others about it, and I have had trouble explaining what this post is about!  I guess the way I read it, it's about the definition of "listening."  It touched me and reminded me of a specific conversation.  Her post resonated with me so much that I commented:

I worry often that The Hubs thinks i’m never listening. He’s a “yammerer” too and in the earlier days of our relationship when we’d snuggle into the wee hours I would often fall asleep, ear to his chest, listening to his voice.
I asked him if it hurt his feelings when I’d fall asleep while he was mid-sentence. He brushed it off – I think it DID, at least a little, hurt his feelings. Until I explained:
“Your voice calms me like a lullaby. It makes me feel happy, safe and warm. I never want you to stop talking and I never want to interrupt.”

We don't really snuggle late into the night these days like we used to. (When did that stop? And WHY? I resolve to incorporate more snuggling.)

He is STILL my Safe Person, my favorite thing to do.  

He still makes me feel Happy, Safe, and Warm.  

Every.  

Day.   

When we met

20 years later

Last weekend - Snuggling RETURNS!

Really, Chris?

It's strange how sometimes you have the most profound thoughts in the weirdest times / places.  Usually it's in the shower, right?  Of course, because you can't write it down or do anything about it.  All you can do is start repeating that profundity, over and over, in your head or even out loud (?, sure, sometimes.), until you get out, dry off and find something to write on.  And by then I've certainly forgotten it, or at least lost the point of the thing.  This is my life.

Not this time.  I was brushing my teeth before bed and just allowing that crazy stream-of-consciousness freight train to fun along in my head. You know, man, the dogs were crazy tonight, what was that about?  Need to spend some serious time training with them as it gets warmer outside.  My neck really hurts, might need to check out a chiropractor or something.  I should learn not to fall down, or at least not to tense up my neck when I do, that would help.  How do you NOT tense up when you're falling down?  Gotta make sure my gym bag is packed for tomorrow, I have Catch the Wave after work and I won't have time to go home, gotta change at work or maybe in the bathroom at the park.  I've gotten a LOT of exercise recently.  Feels good.  It sure would be nice to see a loss on the scale this week after all that work...

And. I. STOP. 

Image courtesy of artur84 / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Wait. What?  

What's that you just said?  "It sure would be nice"?  Really?  What is this, a movie you are watching?  What are you, hoping for a happy ending?

So let's just check that thought right now.

I am not a passive observer of this process. I am not even a participant in this process. 

I AM the process.

I control whether my weight goes up or down or stays the same. This week and every week. 

I am in control of this. Am I going to do what it takes to get what I want, or wait for it to happen by some magic, benevolent force??

To quote our former president, "I am the decider."

Or another quote I use more often, usually on a different theme:

My body. My choice. 

I'm sure I've written a similar post at some point, but these thoughts are half my problem.  Yes, I got plenty of exercise this week, but have I gotten plenty of healthy fuel for my body?  Meh. I'd say 50/50. Well then, what do you expect?  If my mental exercise consists of wishing and hoping for better outcomes, instead of planning and working to achieve the outcome I want, the fight is over before it starts.  If what happens on the scale isn't really up to me, then it won't really matter what I eat or whether I exercise.  My fate is determined by an outside entity, so what difference does it make?

All of this probably stems from the so-so run I had on Sunday.  It was great, but it was really more of a very long and vigorous walk than a run.  My legs were tired, but I could have run more, and I knew it.  But hey, the gods will decide what happens whether I run or walk, right?  

Maybe I really did need a break.  Maybe I'd pushed my legs and glutes about as far as I should have for one week.  Perhaps.  Or maybe, I lost the mental battle before the physical one ever even started.

Image courtesy of Stuart Miles / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Get your head out of your ass, Chris. Let's go. 

Looking Ahead

It's been a couple of weeks since my last post and they have been hectic and stressful, but I keep thinking of that depressing day and what I wrote and I can't leave that up here as my last post any longer!

There are quite a few deadlines coming up at work and I've been putting in a lot of hours trying to make sure we meet them and keep my clients happy.  Been out of town quite a bit and when I AM home, working with our new dog is still very challenging and time-consuming.  He's learning, but it takes TIME.  Lots of it.  Which is to say, my exercise routine is still pretty much on hold.  I'm hoping the next few weeks will see a reduction in the work stress and less traveling, which will allow more time for working out.

I have a 5k this Sunday!  EEK!  I haven't run since Run the Woods (8K trail race), which, although I haven't posted a Race Recap, I can tell you it was very challenging!  I remember about half-way through thinking, "wow, I really should have just signed up for the 5k.  This is harder than I expected!"  I did finish though.  DFL, and happy to get to the finish line.  I am LOVING my new age group, though.  I got second place!  HA!  20 minutes behind the first-place winner but I still placed! They give out really cool plaques too, rather than ribbons or trophies.  Neat stuff.

But that was a MONTH ago!  So yes, EEK! is the name of the game for this weekend.  I guess this demonstrates a circumstance in which my strategy works.  Rain or shine, ready or not, I'll be running 3.1 miles this weekend, because darn it, I PAID to do it!

One more thing before I rush back into work for today:  a few weeks ago, I did something I have often sworn NEVER to do.  I bought a "self-help" book.  Now (i know my mom reads this, so ... um... sorry mom) it seemed to me that my mother bought and read followed the plans of many a self-help book throughout my childhood, and I developed a real aversion to the things.  But I picked up the book that was recommended by another blogger whom I really respect (check out her Facebook page!) (and discussed periodically while she was reading it... I really got a feel for how this might be helpful to someone who thinks the way that I do...).

amazon.com

The book, of course, is intended to be read daily, with a six-week plan, and daily "homework" assignments... yadda-yadda-yadda... I am reading it as I have time, and implementing each "day"'s plan as I go.  I recognize that I don't have the ability to follow a strict schedule with this thing right now, and I'm working within my limits.

The book is "The Beck Diet Solution" by Dr. Judith Beck and is based in Cognitive Behavior Therapy.  I'm currently working on Day 5.  The first step was to create a list of all of the reasons I want to lose weight and get healthy.  And read them, twice daily.  Before I head back to work, I thought now would be a good time for me to read those (especially after a Food Fail this morning), and I'll share a few of them with you:

• My husband will be proud of me, and I of myself.
• I will feel like I've accomplished something important.
• I will feel better and have more energy.
• I will be less self-critical, and happier when I look in the mirror.
• I will feel more in control.
• I will be a better, faster runner.
• I will feel ready to take on The Marathon.
• I want to look fabulous at my son's wedding!
• I will live long enough to play with my son's children and the children of my niece and nephews.
• I could learn to swim and do a triathlon.

Last word, one I've written down to read when I need help staying on track (or getting back on track) whenever I need it:

I am strong and in control.

I can manage what I eat to provide nutritious fuel for my body without overeating.

I will control what and how much I eat so that I feel satisfied and still lose weight.

So far, these are the good things I've gotten out of reading this book.  I hope there are more to come as I keep reading.

Where I've Been, Part II

Back in 2001, I graduated from college having developed some really terrible habits.  I tended to study in some serious Danger Zones:  places like Bakers Square, Denny's - you know, the open-all-night joints that will give you all the coffee you want and as long as they're not busy, you can stick around till you've finished your homework.

This is a TERRIBLE picture of me, but a good example of where I was at.  This is, I think, Summer 2000

Graduation (duh) May, 2001

I don't remember exactly what my weight was, but there are some very scary photos that tell me it was probably around 200, maybe even a smidge higher.

Once I found a job and passed the CPA exam, I stopped eating out as much (my time was taken up with more "normal" activity working in an office, not surrounded by food all the time.)  I don't recall joining a gym or really exercising much, but I'd guess I dropped 10-15 pounds just from changing my daily routine.

Jason proposed about a year later.  For various reasons, we wanted to have a long engagement - we had about two years to plan, prepare, and save up to pay for the party we wanted to throw.  And, of course, to drop that excess weight.

I joined a gym and took a hard look at what I was eating, and how much.  I set out to lose 1.5 lbs per week, and actually placed my weekly goal weights on my calendar at work.  Again, I don't remember what weight I started out at, but I do remember that I was "predicting" that I would reach my goal weight (between 140 to 145) a few weeks before the wedding.

FOOD:
As I recall, a typical day's food intake went something like this:

Breakfast:  protein bar (250 cal) or a fat-free yogurt (this in the days before the wonder that is Greek yogurt, which I eat all the time now and really love.  I really didn't like the stuff at all - the old yogurt, that is)
Snack:  none, but I was usually starving by lunch time so I would take lunch a bit earlier.
Lunch:  Frozen entree, something like a Lean Cuisine or Michelina's (250-300 cal), or a protein bar and possibly some chips.  I did try the Slim-Fast shakes, but those left me so hungry, that really didn't last long.
Dinner:  this was a lot more flexible, as Jason was (and is) the main cook in the house.  I was really rigid about keeping the portion sizes small and never, never, ever having a second helping.

EXERCISE:
I worked out several times a week.  I paid $9.99 per month for a web site that would give me workout routines so that I had some direction when it came to strength training.  (This in the days before the wonder that is the Smart Phone App, I received a daily email with my assignment for the night, very specific with pictures and descriptions of the exercises, # of reps, and how much weight to use.  I would print that out and take it with me to the gym.  I always felt a little conspicuous walking around with my paper and pen, taking notes about any variation I did on the fly, but it worked for me.  It was actually a LOT like the app I use now.)  I avoided the treadmill like it was a high school bully out to get me.  Most of my cardio came on the elliptical and the StairMaster, though I did try out a few group classes now and then - I particularly liked the "Boot Camp" class, it really kicked my ass every time I did it.  I did 5 minutes or so of stretching before and after every workout.  I weighed myself weekly at the gym but didn't have a scale at home.

OTHER ASPECTS:
I started out at a small, locally-owned women-only gym.  (It was not a chain, you've never heard of it, I really think it may have been one-of-a-kind.)  Part of the gym's program was to take my measurements once a month - upper arm, thigh, calf, waist and hips.  Jason worked on Saturdays then, and I stopped going out on Friday nights.  Instead, I would hit the gym and then have a "cheat" meal afterward, but no booze and I hit the sack early.  About a year in, I changed gyms.  I moved to Gold's Gym, mainly because they had a tanning bed on-site (wedding tan, you know).  I would "reward" myself with a tanning session after each workout.  It was there that I learned that those big, bulky guys in the "free-weights" area and at the cable station were really nice, very helpful and super supportive!  I really felt like I was walking into someone else's territory in the first few months, with my assigned workouts and my pen & paper, but eventually I learned to "own" it and started feeling like it was "my" area too.

WHAT I GOT RIGHT

• Exercise!  Yes, I was working out 4 to 5 times a week.  Cardio, check.  Strength training, check!
• Food:  meh.  I was working with severe portion control, but it was enforced by eating packaged foods.  Super high sodium, not really balanced, just eating as little as possible.
• Well, I DID lose the weight.  Again, it was a really long time ago, so I don't remember what my weight was just before the wedding. but I can tell you this much:  my dress was too big.  

WHAT I GOT WRONG

• Food:  yeah, thinking of all that packaged food now makes me feel a little sick.  This is not the path to portion control.  This is not a healthier relationship with food!  
• Environment:  I didn't really have much in the way of a support group - honestly I didn't know what I was missing.  Jason was, of course, incredibly supportive as always.
• Goal:  Here's where the biggest problem is, I think.  My goal was inappropriate.  I had a short-term vision for what has been a lifelong challenge.  The goal was "to lose 1.5 pounds per week so that I look good in all those damn pictures, and maybe on the honeymoon too.  Yeah, that would be good, I would like to look great on my honeymoon too."  The RIGHT goal would have been something like this:  "I want to be at a healthy weight so I live a long time with my new husband."

RESULTS

Despite the major flaws listed above, I DID lose the weight.  I don't mind telling you, I looked damn fine on my wedding day.  I'll venture a guess that I was as small as a size 10, something I hadn't seen since high school.  Some of my favorite pics:

Diva pose

Bridal Shower

Bridal Shower

Best.  Picture.  EVER.  Taken.  of me.

My mom's favorite.  She says I look like royalty.
Okay, this is partly an excuse to put up my favorite wedding pictures!

Last one.  From our honeymoon.  What was I doing, wearing jeans in that weather?  But wow, they look WAY too big.

WHERE IT WENT OFF THE RAILS

I swear to god, I actually fell off the wagon at the wedding reception!  Okay, maybe not quite that fast, but by the time we got back from the honeymoon I was up at least 10 pounds.  Which really wasn't so bad, I mean I could have happily stayed at that weight damn near forever.

Of course we all know THAT didn't happen.  Changes were ahead, and MANY of them for the better, but for my health / fitness... well, maybe not so much.

How did you learn you love running?

Lately I find myself in a constant state of amazement at what my body is capable of. 

When I first started running, after every 5k race I participated in, even if I did a significant amount of walking in order to finish, I was barely able to walk the next day, let alone go out and get some more exercise.  Now, I think of 5k's like "another training run" - one I will really push myself on.  I can even go for another 3-mile run/walk the afternoon of a race, without experiencing any muscle soreness the next day.  The day after a race, I'm ready for another run, (preferably this time with my dog).

I'm reminded of this today because my Wednesday night Ride the Wave group had our first "Hill Workout" last night.  (I did take the dog - she was ecstatic - it was her second walk of the day!)  I was expecting we would pick a big hill and then run up and down it a bunch of times, but I was mistaken.  We ran as a group, 4 1/2 miles in a figure-eight loop on the streets of a hilly neighborhood.  It wasn't as grueling as what I expected, but it was certainly a really tough workout.  We earned it last night.  (What did we earn?  Well, I guess that's up to each of us.)  And this morning, I marvel at how my legs aren't even sore. 

I was talking with someone during the run last night (and last week too, I think... hmmm, I must talk about this a lot.) about how slow my weight loss has been over the past 18 months.  Running helps me stay focused and committed despite the slow progress.  I focus on the running because that's where I can always see improvement. It's not always on the scale. It's not always on my ass or in the way my clothes fit. But it's right there on the clock.  If I work hard and stay consistent, it'll be there every damn week.

Shoot I think I just found myself a motto. Or at least an answer to that age-old question:

"Why do you run?"

Visit Life in the Day of a Runner and "Like" their page!

Where I've Been, Part 1

Image courtesy of anankkml / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Last week, I said "over the next few days or so... " I will be reflecting on my previous excursions on the path to a healthy body.  Knowing my proclivity toward procrastination, perhaps it would have been prudent to say "over the next few weeks..."  In any case, this is my version of getting started.

I want to start by reiterating that this blog is something I do for my own benefit.  As motivating as it is to think that others sometimes read it, that there are those who appreciate these writings, who get some benefit from reading it (the same way that I get something out of reading other blogs) - whether it's inspiration, motivation, ideas, tools, tricks for staying on track, recipes, workout tips, or just the comfort of a shared experience - As much as that idea motivates me (after all, i could be writing all this stuff in a private diary rather than posting it online for the world to see), at the end of the day, the blog is for my own benefit.

With that said, I don't feel the need to go into ancient history in trying to figure out all this stuff.  I didn't have a traumatic childhood experience that haunts me as an adult and needs exploring, and that is NOT what this is about.  (To steal a phrase from a blogger I read frequently:  "This is not that blog.")  Don't get me wrong, I had my share of painful and distressing experiences as a child and teen - some may even argue more than my share - but what's there is ancient history.  I'm a well-adjusted adult, pushing 40, and if I did still have lingering childhood issues, I doubt if a blog post would be the best forum to work it out!

So I'll start with reflecting on who, what, and where I was in early 2001.

You know, tomorrow.  

In the meantime, here's a pic from around that time:

It's Time

Jason reminded me tonight that, while I have been complaining about my slow weight-loss the past 6 months, he has noticed some very tangible and practical differences in my body, my behavior, etc. (No, I'm not about to tell you TMI about our sex life or anything... I'm talking practical stuff!!) Like he no longer lies awake at night - his words here - hearing me snore "like my great grandpa". Now, this made me laugh, but even I have noticed I sleep better these days and feel more rested when I get up in the mornings.

I had a GREAT run Wednesday night with my Ride the Wave group.  We ran 5 miles and the only little break we had was a short (maybe 1 minute or so) walk at the half-way point.  How long did it take, you ask?  Well, I'll happily tell you we finished in exactly one hour.  (Okay, not exactly one hour.  It was 1:00:24.)  Great pace for a relaxed run with the girls.

Jason wasn't feeling very well Thursday, so I skipped my planned gym workout and stayed home to make dinner and pamper him a little.  It's our anniversary this weekend, so I worked a half-day and spent the afternoon doing some housekeeping so we could relax over the weekend in a clean house.  The weather was absolutely beautiful so I took my Little Running Buddy out for a run around 4pm.  We did an easy, relaxed 3 miles or so.  I didn't time it or anything, and I let Coty determine our pace, so we spent a lot of time walking and sniffing things, ran maybe half of the distance... I was just really enjoying being out there without a coat, wearing ONLY ONE SHIRT, and capri running pants!

On the run I got to thinking about:

1. how I'm really not crazy about the phrase "my weight loss journey" - it's so cliche and reminds me of all those "self-help" books that I hate - but there's no other appropriate term.
2. when did all this start?  I mean, I've been working to lose weight since October 2011 - about 18 months ago - but that's just this time around.  Before that, I lost about 30 lbs with WWonline in... I think 2008, and before that, I lost a bunch of weight (can't remember what my starting weight was) in the two years running up to my wedding in 2004.
3. what did I get right in each of those attempts?  What did I get wrong?  why did those attempts ultimately fail, in that I gained all of the weight back (and probably a bit more)?

I think it's time I spent some energy reflecting on these questions and writing about that history.  I suppose I knew when I started blogging that I'd get to this eventually, but I avoided it.  I didn't want to write some sad-sack BS whiny cliche about how "I've struggled with my weight my whole life... it all started when... " Blah-blah-blah.  That is SO not me.  HOWEVER, I am a big believer in understanding where I came from to help direct where I'm going, and I know there are great lessons to learn from the successes I had, and even bigger lessons to learn from why I ultimately failed to achieve a lifetime weight loss that I could maintain.

So over the next few days or so, I'm going to do just that.  I'm hoping I can find some clues in the process to help me break out of the stubborn plateau I've been on for the past 6 months.

This I Believe

Great little ditty I read on Monday - and a terrific start to my week, I must say!  The following was posted on the Run Junkees Facebook page (if you haven't "Liked" them, I highly recommend it - great inspirational posts every day, from all sorts of perspectives!):

Met a fellow runner named Chet over the weekend. He was an old school marathoner, completing his first in 1987. He shared a story which inspired this pic.

While running a marathon Chet happened along side a fellow runner who was best described as short and stout. Chet engaged the runner in a brief conversation and said "How's it going?" The runner confidently said "Great! I'm running at world record pace". Chet inquisitively replied "World record pace, huh?" The runner answered "Yep. My world. My record. My pace."  

This REALLY got me thinking, and it's been stuck in my head ever since. What a great way to summarize my own view of what I'm working toward!  MY world.  MY record.  MY pace.
I love it so much I'll quote it again.

MY world. MY record. MY pace.

I put such stock in Ownership of this journey.  I am Responsible for what I eat, what I do with my body.  I'm a huge believer in Choice.  It's maybe the core belief I really hold true in my life.  I'm not a particularly spiritual or religious person, but I believe that in life and love, in so many things, You ARE the CHOICES You Make.  That may be why I love love love the quote attributed to Aristotle: "You are what you repeatedly do."

Photo credit:   bridget_willard  via photopinhttp://www.photopin.com cc

Every day, I wake up and choose to be with my life partner, I choose to care for him and for myself, and for our son.  I choose to go to work with a positive attitude.  I choose to exercise (or not to).  I choose to work through problems (be they at work or at home or in my own crazy mixed-up mind) with an aim for SOLUTION, rather than spend my time and energy on simple complaints about "the way things are."  These things are my responsibility.  No one else is responsible for my actions.  I own them.  I choose. 

Me. 

I. 

Choose.

I could literally spend the entire day ranting and raving on this subject.  It's just that important to me.

It's also why I have a tendency to kick myself so hard when I screw up.  Screwing up is not something that happened to me.  It's something I did to myself.  I LET it happen (whatever it was).  I got distracted and lost sight of my goal.  I allowed myself to ___________.  I chose to eat a pint of ice cream.  I chose not to workout for a week (or a month, whatever).  I chose to walk instead of run.  I chose to eat fast-food breakfast every other morning and told myself I "didn't have time" to make something healthy before work. 

Yes, I make terrible choices now and then.  Sometimes I make terrible, unhealthy choices every day for months!  And sometimes, I make wonderful, healthy, life-affirming choices on a daily basis, with the occasional unhealthy choice mixed in for balance.

I'm learning to be gentler with myself when I screw up.  (Translation:  I am choosing to accept small failures and move forward, rather than choosing to dwell on them and allowing those small failures to accelerate and spiral into larger ones.)

So the way I see it, everything in life comes down to the choices I make every day.  Yes, some things are beyond my control.  Certainly!  We don't choose to have a sick family member or a death in the family.  I did not  choose to get laid off from a job I loved, where I got to work with people I really care about.  But we do choose how to respond to those major and minor tragedies.  (Of course nothing ever feels so minor at the time!)

We choose how to live.  How to go on. 

Will we breed bitterness, anger, sadness? 

Or will we breed joy?  Love?  Excitement? 

A sense of adventure? 

Inspiration?

What are you choosing today?

Photo credit:  Photo Extremist via Photopin cc