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At 8:00 a.m. on Saturday, November 6, 2010 I crossed the starting line of my first half marathon, the 3rd Annual Indianapolis Monumental Half Marathon. I was really concerned - freaked out, actually - going into it. There were a couple weeks I had really flaked out on my training. I picked it back up in the last five weeks and got as far as 11 miles before race day.
That morning was a balmy 27 degrees and I was panicking that after running on an indoor track for so long, I wouldn't be able to handle the cold, especially when it came to my breathing. Nope, the weather was fine. Didn't phase me a bit. Now I know I can run the Thanksgiving Day 10K which is right around the corner here.
The first few miles were a real treat. I got to run last all the scenic stuff that our state's capitol had to offer... the capitol building, the monument, Lucas Oil Stadium... cool stuff. I finished my first mile in 9:28. Around mile three, I caught a glimpse of my aunt, uncle and cousin cheering me on (they were there for my cousin, Phil, who's speed racer and finished in 1:32). Seeing them really gave me a push for another 2-3 miles.
But then it got boring... there were few spectators, no sights; just neighborhoods and average-looking streets. It was just me and my thoughts and, man, there were a lot of them. Around mile 8 or 9, I kept pace with a girl for about a mile before I took off. Once I hit the turn at the Children's Museum, I knew it was all downhill from there. I had less then four miles to go.
Mile 11... how I loathe you. Actually, it was somewhere between 10 and 11 where I started to shut down. It hurt... bad. I couldn't go on... but I had to. And I did. I didn't walk once during that entire 13.1. After all, I didn't come there to walk a race. I came to run it. I just kept moving to the next mile marker. And finally... the monument. Not quite... I had like 1.1 miles to go. I kept trudging along. It was only by will and the grace of God that I turned the corner and saw the finish line. There it was... and I picked up my pace just a teeny tiny bit.
I finished in 2:17:10... 2:10 slower then the 2:15:00 I had hoped for. I beat myself up for a minute and then moved on... I had run every last inch of a half marathon. I had did it. I crossed the finish line and got a medal placed over my head. Best moment ever.
Charles and the kids missed it... he had texted me he was stuck in race traffic. I wanted to cry... they missed it. I was running toward my babies the whole time and they weren't there. It wasn't their fault though. Phil, Dave, my aunt and uncle were all there at the end and that meant the world to me too... someone was there to see me finish.
For a few minutes I was thinking I had done what I set out to do... and I'm never running 13.1 miles again. Not ever. As soon as I was asked if I would do it again, without hesitation, I responded I'm running the Sunburst Half in June... and the Disney Half in January 2012. Now 26.2... I doubt it. I won't say never, but right now my heart's not leading me that way. But next year, I hope to come back to Indy and go under 2 hours.
I did it... I'm a [half] marathoner.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Monday, August 2, 2010
The Eighth Mile: When you Believe
Yesterday I ran eight miles. First time ever. In the 1:23.09 it took me to run those eight miles, I spent half of them thinking about this blog and the other half surviving. But, I did it. No one can take that away from me.
Going into those eight miles, I wasn't scared or nervous. I felt prepared. I knew in my heart I could do it. I've been doing a half marathon training program these last six weeks and it's helped me ease into those eight miles. I knew I could do it but the only one I told I was going for it was my husband.
Too many times in life, we're told we can't do something. As a kid, everyone is always telling us we can do and be anything we want. Find a cute for cancer? No problem. Fly to the moon? Sure. Be a doghouse builder? Knock yourself out. And for the record, my brother wanted to be a doghouse builder for the longest time! But as we get older, those believers turn to skeptics. All those "you can do anything's" turn to "you can't do that" or "it'll never work."
Why won't it work? Why can't I do it? Most of those people have never done what you're trying to accomplish themselves. Is it the fear of the unknown? Fear of being outdone? I'm not sure but I don't think I can tell anyone they can't do something they want to do. As a mother to two young children, I don't have it in me to tell my little ones, "sorry kiddo, that's just not in the cards for you." I always say that if they want to do something badly enough, they'll find a way to do whatever it takes. "Reach for the moon. Even if you don't make it, you'll land amongst the stars." Right?
Case in point: I have a relative that is a pretty heavy addict and has been for years. This person that I love so dearly has suddenly woken up and is trying to change their life. And not just the addiction part of it; their faith, their relationships, their career, their entire future. I would never tell them it's not going to happen, it's not in the cards for them. Of course it is! Our wildest dreams are always without our reach... if we want them badly enough and we're willing to do the work to make it happen.
We have been blessed with ability, with knowledge and desire. Run with it. For me, I take that advice literally. I was fat and lost some weight. I fell in love with running. I want to do a half marathon. There's the desire. Check! Great. I have two lungs and two feet that work so I start using them. There's the ability. Check! The knowledge part is easy. Read a couple books, find a training program I like and stick to it, get some tips to improve from the latest Runner's World magazine. Knowledge? Check!
My dear friend sent me this song right when I needed it, "Walk on the Water" by Nicole Britt, and it's on my running playlist. It's not a power song like Christina Aguilara's "Fighter" but the lyrics are so amazing that it moved me to tears during that eight mile run yesterday. And it moved my feet too. I leave you guys with some food for thought, the chorus:
Going into those eight miles, I wasn't scared or nervous. I felt prepared. I knew in my heart I could do it. I've been doing a half marathon training program these last six weeks and it's helped me ease into those eight miles. I knew I could do it but the only one I told I was going for it was my husband.
Too many times in life, we're told we can't do something. As a kid, everyone is always telling us we can do and be anything we want. Find a cute for cancer? No problem. Fly to the moon? Sure. Be a doghouse builder? Knock yourself out. And for the record, my brother wanted to be a doghouse builder for the longest time! But as we get older, those believers turn to skeptics. All those "you can do anything's" turn to "you can't do that" or "it'll never work."
Why won't it work? Why can't I do it? Most of those people have never done what you're trying to accomplish themselves. Is it the fear of the unknown? Fear of being outdone? I'm not sure but I don't think I can tell anyone they can't do something they want to do. As a mother to two young children, I don't have it in me to tell my little ones, "sorry kiddo, that's just not in the cards for you." I always say that if they want to do something badly enough, they'll find a way to do whatever it takes. "Reach for the moon. Even if you don't make it, you'll land amongst the stars." Right?
Case in point: I have a relative that is a pretty heavy addict and has been for years. This person that I love so dearly has suddenly woken up and is trying to change their life. And not just the addiction part of it; their faith, their relationships, their career, their entire future. I would never tell them it's not going to happen, it's not in the cards for them. Of course it is! Our wildest dreams are always without our reach... if we want them badly enough and we're willing to do the work to make it happen.
We have been blessed with ability, with knowledge and desire. Run with it. For me, I take that advice literally. I was fat and lost some weight. I fell in love with running. I want to do a half marathon. There's the desire. Check! Great. I have two lungs and two feet that work so I start using them. There's the ability. Check! The knowledge part is easy. Read a couple books, find a training program I like and stick to it, get some tips to improve from the latest Runner's World magazine. Knowledge? Check!
My dear friend sent me this song right when I needed it, "Walk on the Water" by Nicole Britt, and it's on my running playlist. It's not a power song like Christina Aguilara's "Fighter" but the lyrics are so amazing that it moved me to tears during that eight mile run yesterday. And it moved my feet too. I leave you guys with some food for thought, the chorus:
So what are you waiting for?
What do you have to lose?
Your insecurities try to hold to you
You know you're made for more
So don't be afraid to move
Your faith is all
It takes and you can
Walk on the water too
What do you have to lose?
Your insecurities try to hold to you
You know you're made for more
So don't be afraid to move
Your faith is all
It takes and you can
Walk on the water too
Next time: The Ninth Mile
Monday, July 12, 2010
The Seventh Mile: The reason...
Many of you know that I made up my mind to lose weight and get healthy after my son was born. I felt that I had to be an example for him and live a healthy lifestyle. I didn't want him to think that being unhealthy was okay for a minute. What you may not know is that doctors told us for three years that my son (and now my daughter) would never be because of how unhealthy I was.
Early in our marriage, we discovered we couldn't get pregnant. My husband had his set of issues (which were resolved by surgery) but I also had my own. I was diagnosed with Polycystic ovaries, common in us fat girls. I got my period maybe once every ten months. Sounds nice in theory, but not when you're trying to have a baby. Many specialists told us to just forget about having kids unless we tried In Vitro. Luckily, through the grace of God, I was led to acupuncture and in three months, got pregnant and had a great pregnancy.
On July 11, 2007, we welcomed out perfectly healthy and beautiful 7lb 6oz, 21 inch baby boy into the world. He was perfect. Labor was awful (being overweight doesn't help things) and my dream of nursing him for at least a year was shattered (later I found out that my body was unable to produce enough milk, a side effect of the polysystic ovaries and hence my weight). Damn that weight. I would not let this precious baby down...
... And I didn't. I lost the weight and am continuing my healthy lifestyle, which I will definitely be doing for the rest of my life. Now, I gave my son the gift of his little sister, which - because of my dramatic weight loss - I had an easy time conceiving, very easy time delivering, and at nine months is still full-time nursing.
My weight was getting in the way of my dreams for the longest time. In this case, the biggest dream - that of having a family. Not anymore. I'm creating and living new dreams now. My miracle baby turned three years old yesterday. In three short years he has changed my life and made me a better person. I love seeing him learn every day. He's so fit and so active and he loves to run and play and it's fun to him; not a chore like it used to be for me.
I made a promise to my baby boy three years ago that I would be healthy for him and set an example for him. Three years later, I'm still keeping that promise and I'll do so until the day I die. After all, he's got a long life ahead of him that I want to witness... and so do his future children.
Baby boy, you're an amazing gift from God. You're not just a baby given to me, you're a reason, you're a chance at life for me. I'm so blessed to have the privilege to be your mommy and I learn from you probably more than you will ever learn from me. You were put on this earth to do great things and I'll be there every mile of the way to support you, love you, guide you and be anything that you need me to be. I love you.
Next up: The Eighth Mile
Early in our marriage, we discovered we couldn't get pregnant. My husband had his set of issues (which were resolved by surgery) but I also had my own. I was diagnosed with Polycystic ovaries, common in us fat girls. I got my period maybe once every ten months. Sounds nice in theory, but not when you're trying to have a baby. Many specialists told us to just forget about having kids unless we tried In Vitro. Luckily, through the grace of God, I was led to acupuncture and in three months, got pregnant and had a great pregnancy.
On July 11, 2007, we welcomed out perfectly healthy and beautiful 7lb 6oz, 21 inch baby boy into the world. He was perfect. Labor was awful (being overweight doesn't help things) and my dream of nursing him for at least a year was shattered (later I found out that my body was unable to produce enough milk, a side effect of the polysystic ovaries and hence my weight). Damn that weight. I would not let this precious baby down...
... And I didn't. I lost the weight and am continuing my healthy lifestyle, which I will definitely be doing for the rest of my life. Now, I gave my son the gift of his little sister, which - because of my dramatic weight loss - I had an easy time conceiving, very easy time delivering, and at nine months is still full-time nursing.
My weight was getting in the way of my dreams for the longest time. In this case, the biggest dream - that of having a family. Not anymore. I'm creating and living new dreams now. My miracle baby turned three years old yesterday. In three short years he has changed my life and made me a better person. I love seeing him learn every day. He's so fit and so active and he loves to run and play and it's fun to him; not a chore like it used to be for me.
I made a promise to my baby boy three years ago that I would be healthy for him and set an example for him. Three years later, I'm still keeping that promise and I'll do so until the day I die. After all, he's got a long life ahead of him that I want to witness... and so do his future children.
Baby boy, you're an amazing gift from God. You're not just a baby given to me, you're a reason, you're a chance at life for me. I'm so blessed to have the privilege to be your mommy and I learn from you probably more than you will ever learn from me. You were put on this earth to do great things and I'll be there every mile of the way to support you, love you, guide you and be anything that you need me to be. I love you.
Next up: The Eighth Mile
Monday, June 28, 2010
The Sixth Mile: All Eyes Forward
This past Saturday, June 26, 2010, I ran the in Mishawaka Summerfest 5K. If you're looking for an awesome course to run next year, this is a race you've got to do! It's at Mishawaka's Riverwalk, all along the St. Joseph River. Very scenic, pretty much flat, and apparently, very fast! I ran that 5K in a time of 29:17 (9:25 pace). You're probably like, "OK, good for you." No, you don't get it... Exactly FIVE weeks ago I ran my first ever 5K in a time of 31:20 (10:05 pace). In only five weeks, I shaved 2:03 off my time and 40 seconds off my pace!
Many of you know how much that 10:00 pace was killing me. I couldn't get past it. I ran my 10K at the Sunburst with a 10:01 pace. Doggone it! After that, I noticed my practice runs were getting into the 9:40s. Holy moley, where did that come from? And now I ran a race with a 9:25 pace!?! Just amazing. I'm by no means a fast runner. But for me, that's lightning.
It's true what they say, "Perserverence pays off." No kidding! I was so hung up about breaking through that 10:00, I thought it would never happen. And then it did... and I smoked it. Eye on the prize, guys! Rome wasn't built in a day... and neither was me getting down to a size 10, losing 100 pounds, being able to run 5 miles without keeling over and going into cardiac arrest, and then running a 9:25 mile. Stay focused. Eye on the prize. You'll get there if you stay consistent.
Now here's the thing with that whole consistency deal. Just because you stick with your program and do what you gotta do, it doesn't always mean you'll be running a 9:25 (or whatever your personal best is for you) pace. I did my first run as part of my half marathon training today and my pace was 9:50. Not bad, but no 9:25. Bottom line is, I did it once. I can do it again. No one can take that away from me.
Eyes focused ahead of you, Jess... you're now in half-marathon training!
Next up: The Seventh Mile
Many of you know how much that 10:00 pace was killing me. I couldn't get past it. I ran my 10K at the Sunburst with a 10:01 pace. Doggone it! After that, I noticed my practice runs were getting into the 9:40s. Holy moley, where did that come from? And now I ran a race with a 9:25 pace!?! Just amazing. I'm by no means a fast runner. But for me, that's lightning.
It's true what they say, "Perserverence pays off." No kidding! I was so hung up about breaking through that 10:00, I thought it would never happen. And then it did... and I smoked it. Eye on the prize, guys! Rome wasn't built in a day... and neither was me getting down to a size 10, losing 100 pounds, being able to run 5 miles without keeling over and going into cardiac arrest, and then running a 9:25 mile. Stay focused. Eye on the prize. You'll get there if you stay consistent.
Now here's the thing with that whole consistency deal. Just because you stick with your program and do what you gotta do, it doesn't always mean you'll be running a 9:25 (or whatever your personal best is for you) pace. I did my first run as part of my half marathon training today and my pace was 9:50. Not bad, but no 9:25. Bottom line is, I did it once. I can do it again. No one can take that away from me.
Eyes focused ahead of you, Jess... you're now in half-marathon training!
Next up: The Seventh Mile
Sunday, June 20, 2010
The Fifth Mile: The battle within
So you come up with this crazy idea, you get all hyped up about it and nothing's going to stop you, right? We always expect smooth sailing when we start a new endeavor. When I decided to lose weight, I didn't think I would ever get stuck. I didn't think I would ever get frustrated, feel defeated and no way was it possible that my results would ever go backwards.
For the last week or so, I have felt completely defeated... and unworthy. My kids were sick, went out of town for a few days, was left without power for 47 hours and me, myself and I were put on the back burner. Maybe not so much the back burner, I just got so distracted, I didn't care. It's the 20th of June and so far this month, I have only run 23 miles. Are you serious? My BodyBugg has done nothing but track my calories burned. The calories that I've consumed, well, I don't even want to pretend they existed. The result? The scale is up, up, up!
I got on the scale today today and just felt like giving up (seriously Jess, what did you expect?). The kids went to bed and what did I do, eat, eat and eat some more. I'm not even going to sneak a peek at the scale now. Now I'm sitting here kicking myself for my moment of gluttony. OK, so the chips and salsa were good while I had them. The three Fruit Roll-Ups hit the spot too. I'll stop there. The moment's over... and the moment I'm in right now is so much worse.
On one hand, I'm feeling like I failed myself. Losing weight, and even more so, being healthy, is so hard. I feel like it's one step forward and two steps back sometimes. Why bother sometimes? On the other hand, it motivates me again. What's done is done. I ate those calories. Now I have to combat what they're going to do with my body. It's not the first time I've decided to be a pig. Regardless, those "one step forward, two steps back" moments, has gotten me almost 100lbs lighter (for the second time). They add up.
So tonight, the internal struggle that 's been going on with me the last week is over. I'm focused, I'm in it to win it. I'm in it for myself, my children and my husband. Treating my body like a trash can is over. I'm back on track with getting enough sleep, not going over on my calories, making my workouts and runs a priority. After all, the road to success is paved with small failures. And I'm a veteran to this road... I've been on it a long, long time. It's leading me home.
Next Time: The Sixth Mile
For the last week or so, I have felt completely defeated... and unworthy. My kids were sick, went out of town for a few days, was left without power for 47 hours and me, myself and I were put on the back burner. Maybe not so much the back burner, I just got so distracted, I didn't care. It's the 20th of June and so far this month, I have only run 23 miles. Are you serious? My BodyBugg has done nothing but track my calories burned. The calories that I've consumed, well, I don't even want to pretend they existed. The result? The scale is up, up, up!
I got on the scale today today and just felt like giving up (seriously Jess, what did you expect?). The kids went to bed and what did I do, eat, eat and eat some more. I'm not even going to sneak a peek at the scale now. Now I'm sitting here kicking myself for my moment of gluttony. OK, so the chips and salsa were good while I had them. The three Fruit Roll-Ups hit the spot too. I'll stop there. The moment's over... and the moment I'm in right now is so much worse.
On one hand, I'm feeling like I failed myself. Losing weight, and even more so, being healthy, is so hard. I feel like it's one step forward and two steps back sometimes. Why bother sometimes? On the other hand, it motivates me again. What's done is done. I ate those calories. Now I have to combat what they're going to do with my body. It's not the first time I've decided to be a pig. Regardless, those "one step forward, two steps back" moments, has gotten me almost 100lbs lighter (for the second time). They add up.
So tonight, the internal struggle that 's been going on with me the last week is over. I'm focused, I'm in it to win it. I'm in it for myself, my children and my husband. Treating my body like a trash can is over. I'm back on track with getting enough sleep, not going over on my calories, making my workouts and runs a priority. After all, the road to success is paved with small failures. And I'm a veteran to this road... I've been on it a long, long time. It's leading me home.
Next Time: The Sixth Mile
Saturday, June 12, 2010
The Fourth Mile: Driving Force
Last night I was lying awake at 2:30 in the morning, the meat of a mommy sandwich. Long story short, my husband went to comfort our son after a nightmare and he was asleep in two seconds while our son was left scared and scrambled to my room where I was nursing my daughter. So here I was, stuck between my two little bed hogs, thinking of the four miles I ran today at a 9:41 pace and was formulating what I wanted to write about.
I'm often asked where my determination and focus come from when it comes to my weight loss journey and there's no easy answer. Just like a recovering addict needs to live sometimes from minute to minute, I have to do the same. Something that might motivate me now, may be a total turn off tonight.
I remember when me and my husband were first engaged, his mom pleaded with him not to marry me for many reasons. Obviously, he did and it was the best thing that ever happened to him (and most days, to me)! She told him I'd always be fat, I'd never lose the weight. She never called me fat to my face but she'd make comments like someone was "heavy like you." Gee, thanks. So there's one motivator. Don't EVER tell me I can't do something because I will do it just to spite you. Proving my mother-in-law wrong has now become my life's mission and I love every second of it.
My family is by far and away my biggest motivating factor. Had I stayed 268 pounds, I would have been saying to my kids that it's okay to get that big. It's okay to be unhealthy. I'm sorry, it's not. God has given you one body, why treat it like a trash can? I know for me, being fat (it's not overweight, it's not heavy or obese, I was just fat) was laziness. Children learn from example, right? Well darn it if I'm not going to set an example for my kids to be the best they can possibly be and live up to the potential God has bestowed in them!
Being able to stay "I did it!" is a huge motivating factor for me as well. I probably annoy the daylights out of everyone, but I can go on Facebook and say, "I ran X miles in XX time today!" I do it all the time. Don't like it, block me because I NEED to do it for my own benefit. I keep a running log so I can see how far, how long, how fast. Looking back over the last couple months, it's like "OMG, I'm getting good!" Document your victories. Keep track of your weight loss, keep track of inches lost, miles run or minutes exercised. Look back every so often and you'll amaze yourself. I set myself a goal to run 350 miles this year. So far I'm at 137 and I'm hoping to smoke 350. It really works.
I don't know if it's the best word for it, but selfishness is also a motivating factor. Who doesn't want to weigh less and look better. Who doesn't want to fit into the smaller sized clothing? I went from an 18/20 to a size 10 and I'm hoping to see an 8 soon. Maybe I'm vain for it, but I want to work my arms so I can wear a cute tank top, have a flat stomach so I can wear a tighter shirt and have chiseled calves so I can wear shorter (not too short, I am pushing 30 and I am a mom) shorts.
Finally, a routine is a great driving force. Every weekday, I go to the Y at 10am. I wake up early, pack up the kids, drop them off in the baby-sitting room and do my class and often run afterward. I've incorporated it into my day. I'm at the point where I can hardly function without my Y time. If you're thinking to yourself you don't have time to get a workout in, you're lying to yourself. If you don't spend a second in front of a TV, a book or magazine or with knitting needles in hand, I take it back but I find that hard to believe. As a matter of fact, get a stationary bike or a treadmill (hello!?! I got mine at Wal-Mart for $378!) and continue to watch your shows but do something that's going to benefit you at the same time (and no, I will not be convinced that Grey's Anatomy is to your benefit).
Bottom line is, we're all worth it. And what other choice do we have? If we don't get moving, the alternative is to stay unhealthy and the whole world sees it. I know that being overweight, the whole world saw how I felt about and treated myself and that's not the image I want to display. So my only choice is to find what motivates me right then and there and literally RUN with it.
Next Time: The Fifth Mile
I'm often asked where my determination and focus come from when it comes to my weight loss journey and there's no easy answer. Just like a recovering addict needs to live sometimes from minute to minute, I have to do the same. Something that might motivate me now, may be a total turn off tonight.
I remember when me and my husband were first engaged, his mom pleaded with him not to marry me for many reasons. Obviously, he did and it was the best thing that ever happened to him (and most days, to me)! She told him I'd always be fat, I'd never lose the weight. She never called me fat to my face but she'd make comments like someone was "heavy like you." Gee, thanks. So there's one motivator. Don't EVER tell me I can't do something because I will do it just to spite you. Proving my mother-in-law wrong has now become my life's mission and I love every second of it.
My family is by far and away my biggest motivating factor. Had I stayed 268 pounds, I would have been saying to my kids that it's okay to get that big. It's okay to be unhealthy. I'm sorry, it's not. God has given you one body, why treat it like a trash can? I know for me, being fat (it's not overweight, it's not heavy or obese, I was just fat) was laziness. Children learn from example, right? Well darn it if I'm not going to set an example for my kids to be the best they can possibly be and live up to the potential God has bestowed in them!
Being able to stay "I did it!" is a huge motivating factor for me as well. I probably annoy the daylights out of everyone, but I can go on Facebook and say, "I ran X miles in XX time today!" I do it all the time. Don't like it, block me because I NEED to do it for my own benefit. I keep a running log so I can see how far, how long, how fast. Looking back over the last couple months, it's like "OMG, I'm getting good!" Document your victories. Keep track of your weight loss, keep track of inches lost, miles run or minutes exercised. Look back every so often and you'll amaze yourself. I set myself a goal to run 350 miles this year. So far I'm at 137 and I'm hoping to smoke 350. It really works.
I don't know if it's the best word for it, but selfishness is also a motivating factor. Who doesn't want to weigh less and look better. Who doesn't want to fit into the smaller sized clothing? I went from an 18/20 to a size 10 and I'm hoping to see an 8 soon. Maybe I'm vain for it, but I want to work my arms so I can wear a cute tank top, have a flat stomach so I can wear a tighter shirt and have chiseled calves so I can wear shorter (not too short, I am pushing 30 and I am a mom) shorts.
Finally, a routine is a great driving force. Every weekday, I go to the Y at 10am. I wake up early, pack up the kids, drop them off in the baby-sitting room and do my class and often run afterward. I've incorporated it into my day. I'm at the point where I can hardly function without my Y time. If you're thinking to yourself you don't have time to get a workout in, you're lying to yourself. If you don't spend a second in front of a TV, a book or magazine or with knitting needles in hand, I take it back but I find that hard to believe. As a matter of fact, get a stationary bike or a treadmill (hello!?! I got mine at Wal-Mart for $378!) and continue to watch your shows but do something that's going to benefit you at the same time (and no, I will not be convinced that Grey's Anatomy is to your benefit).
Bottom line is, we're all worth it. And what other choice do we have? If we don't get moving, the alternative is to stay unhealthy and the whole world sees it. I know that being overweight, the whole world saw how I felt about and treated myself and that's not the image I want to display. So my only choice is to find what motivates me right then and there and literally RUN with it.
Next Time: The Fifth Mile
Thursday, June 10, 2010
The Third Mile: Unity Through Distance
I recently read an article in the May 2010 Runner's World where the writer used running as a way to escape from his problems. Maybe they weren't necessarily problems, but they were conflicts and difficulties he was dealing with pertaining to his family. Am I crazy to be really surprised by this?
I don't use running as an escape from anything. I almost think I use it to bring me towards something. Running has been my magnet these last few months. How, you ask? Let me count the ways:
1. My husband and I have so much to talk about when I mention a race. We (when I say "we" I really mean "me." I'm the eternal chatterbox.) talk about what organization the race is supporting, where it'll be, how long, what to do with the kids, how I'll train, what I'll wear, yada, yada, yada. It can be a one-sided conversation sometimes but sometimes he's really into it. I'll take what I can get. After all, you have NO idea how excited I get when we start talking about Guitar Hero or Dragon-Ball-Z.
2. My kids get it. I tell my son I'm going to run and he'll do one of three things: A) Get my shoes for me and walk me to the treadmill ( and once I'm on, he'll start screaming "Slow down! Easy, momma, EASY!)", B) wave and say "See ya!" as I head out the door, or C) if we're going to the Y he'll say "You run, I play with kids." My little baby girl, goes with the flow. If we go to the Y, she'll hang out in the baby-sitting room and FINALLY not fuss. If I'm on the treadmill at home, I'll put her in her exersaucer next to me and she'll jump up and down and squeal the faster I run.
3. Running has given me and my parents something new to talk about. They'll call me after a race and see how I did. If we're all together, they'll watch the kids so I can head out. My dad will ask questions about distance and training. He always acts impressed. I love it.
4. I have bonded with people over running. My inability to shut up about running has inspired (or probably left them feeling like they had no choice) some friends to hit the pavement. I have met a friend from online to run my first 10K with that I may have never of had the honor of meeting had it not been for running. I will also have the honor of running my first half marathon with another friend, who at the present time, has never raced but plans to.
Running isn't an escape for me. It reunites me to everyone and everything I love so dearly. It gives me that time for myself that mothers seldom have. During that time, through the miles and distance, I'm able to sort out all the million of things going through my brain like: mountains of bills, how to make sure my son doesn't use the dog bowl as a toilet AGAIN, what I can use in that lasagna recipe so it has a few less calories, the way my daughter folds her hands together when she drifts off to sleep, the vow renewal me and my husband are planning for four years from now, how I can convince my husband to rake the dog kennel (affectionately known as "poopland"), and the list goes on and on.
When I take that last step at the end of my run; whether it be on the treadmill, the track at the Y or on my front porch, I walk through the front door knowing that I did that run not only for me and my health but for the health, happiness and sanity of my family.
Next Up: The Fourth Mile
I don't use running as an escape from anything. I almost think I use it to bring me towards something. Running has been my magnet these last few months. How, you ask? Let me count the ways:
1. My husband and I have so much to talk about when I mention a race. We (when I say "we" I really mean "me." I'm the eternal chatterbox.) talk about what organization the race is supporting, where it'll be, how long, what to do with the kids, how I'll train, what I'll wear, yada, yada, yada. It can be a one-sided conversation sometimes but sometimes he's really into it. I'll take what I can get. After all, you have NO idea how excited I get when we start talking about Guitar Hero or Dragon-Ball-Z.
2. My kids get it. I tell my son I'm going to run and he'll do one of three things: A) Get my shoes for me and walk me to the treadmill ( and once I'm on, he'll start screaming "Slow down! Easy, momma, EASY!)", B) wave and say "See ya!" as I head out the door, or C) if we're going to the Y he'll say "You run, I play with kids." My little baby girl, goes with the flow. If we go to the Y, she'll hang out in the baby-sitting room and FINALLY not fuss. If I'm on the treadmill at home, I'll put her in her exersaucer next to me and she'll jump up and down and squeal the faster I run.
3. Running has given me and my parents something new to talk about. They'll call me after a race and see how I did. If we're all together, they'll watch the kids so I can head out. My dad will ask questions about distance and training. He always acts impressed. I love it.
4. I have bonded with people over running. My inability to shut up about running has inspired (or probably left them feeling like they had no choice) some friends to hit the pavement. I have met a friend from online to run my first 10K with that I may have never of had the honor of meeting had it not been for running. I will also have the honor of running my first half marathon with another friend, who at the present time, has never raced but plans to.
Running isn't an escape for me. It reunites me to everyone and everything I love so dearly. It gives me that time for myself that mothers seldom have. During that time, through the miles and distance, I'm able to sort out all the million of things going through my brain like: mountains of bills, how to make sure my son doesn't use the dog bowl as a toilet AGAIN, what I can use in that lasagna recipe so it has a few less calories, the way my daughter folds her hands together when she drifts off to sleep, the vow renewal me and my husband are planning for four years from now, how I can convince my husband to rake the dog kennel (affectionately known as "poopland"), and the list goes on and on.
When I take that last step at the end of my run; whether it be on the treadmill, the track at the Y or on my front porch, I walk through the front door knowing that I did that run not only for me and my health but for the health, happiness and sanity of my family.
Next Up: The Fourth Mile
Saturday, June 5, 2010
The Second Mile: Race Day
Today, June 5, 2010 at 7:45 a.m. EST I crossed the starting line of my first ever 10K. It was a humid run but the rain held off until after I crossed the finish line with my friend Amy at a time of 1:02.07 (10:01 pace... the fastest pace I've ever had). I finished 763 out of 1207, 301 out of 603 in the gender division and 45 out of 94 in my age division. As I ran through the tunnel going into Notre Dame Stadium, and crossed the finish line at the 50 yard line, I admit I cried. I did it! That once upon-a-time fat girl just ran 6.2 miles non-stop, damn hills and all.
I thought about this race a lot and dedicated it to many different people in my life:
Mile One - My heavenly Father who blessed me with the ABILITY, the COURAGE, and the DETERMINATION to run. I felt him guide every one of my footsteps.
Mile Two - My husband who truly believes I can do anything I want to do. He has faith in my ability even when I don't. And, he puts up with my running addiction without any complaints.
Mile Three - My son, Brendyn. If it wasn't for him, I may not have ever gotten the determination to get healthy. The day he was born, I realized I was born to be a role model and all excuses had to go out the window.
Mile Four - My daughter, Krystyna. She exemplifies what it means for me to be a woman and mother. I have teach her to one day be an amazing mother and woman and a test such as what I completed today is just one lesson I have taught her.
Mile Five - My brother. I want him to understand that if you want something with all your heart, nothing can stop you.
Mile Six - My mother-in-law who never thought I would lose the weight. Who always says, "You can't do that." Well, I one-uped Nike: I JUST DID IT!
The last .2 - Each step I dedicate to another race that I'm going to kick butt in.
Next Up: The Third Mile
I thought about this race a lot and dedicated it to many different people in my life:
Mile One - My heavenly Father who blessed me with the ABILITY, the COURAGE, and the DETERMINATION to run. I felt him guide every one of my footsteps.
Mile Two - My husband who truly believes I can do anything I want to do. He has faith in my ability even when I don't. And, he puts up with my running addiction without any complaints.
Mile Three - My son, Brendyn. If it wasn't for him, I may not have ever gotten the determination to get healthy. The day he was born, I realized I was born to be a role model and all excuses had to go out the window.
Mile Four - My daughter, Krystyna. She exemplifies what it means for me to be a woman and mother. I have teach her to one day be an amazing mother and woman and a test such as what I completed today is just one lesson I have taught her.
Mile Five - My brother. I want him to understand that if you want something with all your heart, nothing can stop you.
Mile Six - My mother-in-law who never thought I would lose the weight. Who always says, "You can't do that." Well, I one-uped Nike: I JUST DID IT!
The last .2 - Each step I dedicate to another race that I'm going to kick butt in.
Next Up: The Third Mile
Thursday, June 3, 2010
The First Mile: Looking in the Mirror
In my opinion, today's society basically forces a woman to feel like crap about themselves. It you're not Sir Mix-A-Lot's 36-24-36, you're a piece of crap, right? So what's the status on my self-image today? It depends on the day.
Having lost 100lbs once and being close to doing it for a second time, you'd think that I would stand in front of the mirror and be like "Day-um, my arms are chiseled, my legs are rockin' and just check out these abs." Not quite. To be honest, I think I was more comfortable in my skin weighing 268 then I am today at 179. Why? I'm not sure. Maybe I was blind to how big I really was. All I know it, most days, I feel like I look worse now then I did then.
Many people tell me that I'm hardly recognizable with all the weight I've lost and maybe so, but when I look in the mirror, all I see is one big flabby stomach. Oh there's some abs under there from all these workouts, but they're covered in fluff. And lots of it. Don't get me wrong. I can honestly tell you I love having a collarbone. I love having rockin' calves from running. My arms are getting more toned every day (though I still have the chicken-wing effect going on).
There are plenty of days that I run from the mirror and there's days I can't get away from it. The way I felt on the day of my daughter's baptism will stay with me forever. I wore a pink pencil dress and I rocked it! My hair was done, makeup and accessories were perfect, my "suck-me-in" (Spanx) were working overtime, and my spray on tan left no streaks. I felt HOT! And then my husband told me I was stunning. That was all I needed. I'll carry that with me forever.
So, this self-love stuff. Right, about that. Where does it come from? I guess only one person can answer that - YOU. Or in my case, me. It's like running - sometimes you nail that run and go faster then you have before. Other times, you're just going through the motions but you still get that run is. What I'm saying is that sometimes it's really there. Sometimes, you just got to "fake it til you make it."
Sometimes it's hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel. It's hard to look back and say, "I've lost XXX pounds and XXX inches! Look at me! I'm incredible! I'm a knock out!" It's easier to think, "I still have XXX dress sizes to lose and XXX pounds to lose and I look like I'm carrying a baby kangaroo in this pouch" But sit back and REFLECT. As women, we are incredible beings: we can carry a child and give birth; we can nurse a baby while feeding a toddler and read the latest Us Weekly at the same time; we can go on two hours of sleep; we can train our bodies to go the distance; and squeeze 30 hours of work into a 24 hour day.
So women, especially us moms, REFLECT on what you do in a typical day. REFLECT on what you have overcome - large hurdles and small. REFLECT on where you are going and what kind of an example you are setting to those around you; your children. CELEBRATE the fact that you can do anything your heart desires. CELEBRATE the fact that you wear an invisible cape and you are the real Super Woman. CELEBRATE your perfections and inperfections.
At the beginning, I was saying how unattractive I felt and at the end I'm saying to reflect on it and to celebrate those imperfections. Does that make me a hypocrite? I don't think so. It makes me human. I can love everything about myself one minute and loathe it the next. I have the right to change my mind. After all, I'm a woman! Bottom line is, learning to love and accept yourself is a roller coaster and a life-long adventure. It doesn't happen when we hit our goal weight or our dream dress size (and if you shop Old Navy, you'll hit that goal dress size sooner thanks to Vanity Sizing!).
NEXT TIME: The Second Mile: Race Day
Having lost 100lbs once and being close to doing it for a second time, you'd think that I would stand in front of the mirror and be like "Day-um, my arms are chiseled, my legs are rockin' and just check out these abs." Not quite. To be honest, I think I was more comfortable in my skin weighing 268 then I am today at 179. Why? I'm not sure. Maybe I was blind to how big I really was. All I know it, most days, I feel like I look worse now then I did then.
Many people tell me that I'm hardly recognizable with all the weight I've lost and maybe so, but when I look in the mirror, all I see is one big flabby stomach. Oh there's some abs under there from all these workouts, but they're covered in fluff. And lots of it. Don't get me wrong. I can honestly tell you I love having a collarbone. I love having rockin' calves from running. My arms are getting more toned every day (though I still have the chicken-wing effect going on).
There are plenty of days that I run from the mirror and there's days I can't get away from it. The way I felt on the day of my daughter's baptism will stay with me forever. I wore a pink pencil dress and I rocked it! My hair was done, makeup and accessories were perfect, my "suck-me-in" (Spanx) were working overtime, and my spray on tan left no streaks. I felt HOT! And then my husband told me I was stunning. That was all I needed. I'll carry that with me forever.
So, this self-love stuff. Right, about that. Where does it come from? I guess only one person can answer that - YOU. Or in my case, me. It's like running - sometimes you nail that run and go faster then you have before. Other times, you're just going through the motions but you still get that run is. What I'm saying is that sometimes it's really there. Sometimes, you just got to "fake it til you make it."
Sometimes it's hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel. It's hard to look back and say, "I've lost XXX pounds and XXX inches! Look at me! I'm incredible! I'm a knock out!" It's easier to think, "I still have XXX dress sizes to lose and XXX pounds to lose and I look like I'm carrying a baby kangaroo in this pouch" But sit back and REFLECT. As women, we are incredible beings: we can carry a child and give birth; we can nurse a baby while feeding a toddler and read the latest Us Weekly at the same time; we can go on two hours of sleep; we can train our bodies to go the distance; and squeeze 30 hours of work into a 24 hour day.
So women, especially us moms, REFLECT on what you do in a typical day. REFLECT on what you have overcome - large hurdles and small. REFLECT on where you are going and what kind of an example you are setting to those around you; your children. CELEBRATE the fact that you can do anything your heart desires. CELEBRATE the fact that you wear an invisible cape and you are the real Super Woman. CELEBRATE your perfections and inperfections.
At the beginning, I was saying how unattractive I felt and at the end I'm saying to reflect on it and to celebrate those imperfections. Does that make me a hypocrite? I don't think so. It makes me human. I can love everything about myself one minute and loathe it the next. I have the right to change my mind. After all, I'm a woman! Bottom line is, learning to love and accept yourself is a roller coaster and a life-long adventure. It doesn't happen when we hit our goal weight or our dream dress size (and if you shop Old Navy, you'll hit that goal dress size sooner thanks to Vanity Sizing!).
NEXT TIME: The Second Mile: Race Day
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Before the Starting Line: Where I've Been
Disclaimer: I have never shared this - especially my weights - with anyone besides my husband. Sharing this is both terrifying and a massive relief.
I've never been a thin girl. Heck, coming from a Polish family, I was expected to spend my days either drinking vodka or eating Polish sausage (you think I'm joking). There was no talk of exercise growing up. I swam for several years and really enjoyed it. I even got fairly good at it. But I never followed through with it.
Comments from my youth such as "no man will ever love you because of your weight" and "you'll cry over what you've done to yourself" still run through my head to this day. There's definitely some emotional damage done there.
In June 2004, I married my husband weighing 227 pounds (I borrowed my wedding dress from Shamu's bride). I got comfortable and got up to 248. After three years of trying to get pregnant (another weight-affected struggle), I delivered my son in July of 2007 weighing 268 pounds. Enough was enough. With my mother-in-law's voice in the back of my head telling me I'll never lose the weight, I'll be fat forever, I set my goal - I was going to lose 100 pounds by my son's first birthday.
By six weeks post-partum, I had lost all 41pounds I gained during pregnancy and was back down to 227. Right before my son turned seven weeks old, I joined StrollerFit and the pounds started to come off. I started running with the help of the Couch to 5K program in February 2008. I hated running but there's no such thing as a fat runner, right? I was sticking with it.
July 2008, my son turned one and I had lost 99.8 pounds. Good enough. Mission accomplished. I weighed 169.2. I got comfortable. I got up to 185. I got pregnant again when my son was 18 months old and come October 2009, I have a beautiful daughter and 36 pounds to lose (I got up to 221). Here we go again!
After my six week appointment, I started working out at home. I got a BodyBugg for Christmas from my husband which has been a huge help (if you don't know what that is, check it out! You GOT to have one!). I started doing the Couch to 10K program and we joined the local YMCA.
So where am I today? I'm edging back to that 100 pounds lost. I'm at 179 pounds (11 more to go!). I love my Power Pump class, I can run (Like it! Love it! Gotta have it!) 6.5 miles without cringing at the thought and I run my first 10K this Saturday. When I tell my son that momma's going to run, he brings me my shoes and takes my hand and walks me to the treadmill.
Where am I going? The sky is the limit! I have a lot to learn when it comes to self-love and self-acceptance. I may have lost a lot of weight but 90% of the time, I still see the fat me when I look at the mirror. I've set a goal weight of 155 pounds (I'm 5'8" for the record). I also plan to run the Disney Princess Half Marathon in February 2011. I have every intention of teaching my babies how to be healthy and enjoy being active and how to love and respect themselves, something I was never taught growing up.
Next time: The First Mile
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