Reality Hurts

There are times I make some lofty goals.  
You know, the whole dream big concept.
Only, I fall.  Or fail.
Or both.

Today is August 22nd.
I'm not even close to where I wanted to be.
Not on the scale, not on the miles on runs.

Honestly, I've been hiding from the truth.
I've been avoiding the whole come clean process.

Sure, I could fill this blog with some very valid excuses.
I could sit and tell you all how hard August has been.
I could tell you about my job and the crazy hours/days I've been working.
I could tell you about so much that has been happening (mentally and physically).

But where will that get me?

I don't want pity.  I don't want a way out.
I definitely don't need someone excusing my behavior.

Because frankly, my behavior has stunk.
Sure, I've been busy.  Who isn't?!
But I could have found opportunities to make the time for what's important.
I could have sucked it up and made it happen.

But here I am, wishing I would have.

And this feeling sucks.

I was supposed to be working to lose weight to head to Marco Island in December with Jason.  (Something I REALLY, really, REALLY wanted.)
I was supposed to be working hard to run and train for the St. George Marathon.
(Something I REALLY, really, REALLY wanted.)

Neither has happened.  I am most certainly not where I planned to be.
I'm embarrassed, I'm disappointed, I'm frustrated.

Dare I say it, part of me even wants to quit.
It's easier to just quit, you know.  It's easier to pretend like I don't care.

But the thing is, I do care.
I care about achieving goals I have set.

I'm not crazy enough to believe I still have a chance at hitting my goal by September 6th to buy my ticket to Marco Island.  And I'm not about to buy it anyway, just because I want to go and can afford the ticket.  I truly don't feel I've worked for it.  I've seen the work Jason has put in.  (Holy smokes, he's looking good as she shrinks away...)  It wouldn't be right for me to assume I can just go despite not putting in my end of the deal.

Does that mean I quit?  Does that mean I give up?
No.

I may not get to Marco Island, but was that the end goal?  No.  It would have been a nice perk!  But the end goal is finding myself again after this pregnancy.  The end goal is getting my healthy body back again.  And I owe it to my kids, my family, and myself to keep pushing for that.

Now about this other lofty goal....the marathon.

I'm not even going to pretend I'm going to be ready like I hoped.
I won't.
I haven't put in the miles to even consider making a "time" goal for the race.
So here I am.  Throwing it all out the window.
I'm determined to start that race.  And I'm going to give it every last ounce of effort I have within me to finish.  I will leave it all out there on the road that day.

And between now and then, I'm going to gain some laser focus.  A wise friend (who consequently is also running this race with me) reminded me today to stop beating myself up.  To stop thinking about what I haven't accomplished, and focus instead on what I have.  To focus instead on the time I have left and not let it slip away.

So here I go.

I make no promises.

I am making no loft, dream big goals.

My only goal right now is to focus each hour of the day, because at this point...that seems pretty hard to do!

Everything starts with a choice, right?  So each choice I make, the question will be....'will this bring me closer to finishing the marathon, or will this set me back?"

Eating My Feelings

Yep, this has been me for the last 3 or 4 days.

I'm not even going to pretend.

It hasn't been pretty.

I think the only thing I haven't eaten is the dog food...

My emotions have been whack-a-doodle for this week.

Some because of stuff happening.

Some because of frustrations about things not happening.

Rather than face things, I've jumped head first into all things delicious bad.

I finally stepped on the scale to face the music. 

It was bad.

Like SUUUUUUUUUPER bad.

Like I can't even post it today because I'm too embarrassed.

But.  I've promised to stay accountable.

So tomorrow, come good or bad, Fitness Friday will be happening.

But I'm going to be drinking an entire lake of water today 

and drinking green smoothies in hopes of doing some damage control.

What should this tell you?

I'm more human than I wish I were. 

Because once again, my knees hurt from falling down.

Taking 4 steps forward is frustrating when the next moment 

you are taking 302942039482039 steps backward.

Please excuse me, I've got to force myself out the door for a run.

Monday Marathon Training

I'm not going to lie.  This last week was difficult.  I was dealing with some plantar faciitis on Monday.  So I opted to make my shorter runs this week walks.  I felt confident that I was still getting in distance without pounding on my feet to aggravate the PF even more.

By Wednesday, I had a nasty head cold and all I wanted to do is lay in bed, doped up on Sudafed or Tylenol Cold.

So my training over the last week went like this:

• Monday I had a 2.56 mile walk.  No pain, just a simple and easy walk.
• Tuesday I also got in a quick walk, 2.09 miles.  
• Thursday, I opted to do another walk (1.67 miles) so that I didn't over do it with my PF and sickness for Saturday.
• Saturday was my long run day.  7 miles.

Total weekly mileage:  13.32 miles.

Now for the good, bad, and ugly.

By Saturday, I was excited for my run.  I was excited to feel my legs moving.  Only, I let my head get in the way.  The day was BEAUTIFUL!  I couldn't have asked for better weather.  The course was equally pretty...although the end had some up and down hills that I wasn't very fond of.  But the scenery was great.  But I just couldn't get into it.  At all!




You see, I made a huge mistake.  I started feeling sorry for myself.  This journey is hard.  Like extremely hard.  And if I'm being completely honest (which I always am on here...) Saturday, it SUCKED.  I spent the last 2.5 miles of my run crying.  At one point I even stopped running and called Jason in tears.  I wanted him to come pick me up and bring me to the car so I could just be done.  (He didn't.)  I cried to him about how hard this all is.  It's stupid.  I am frustrated.  I already lost all this weight once, and I was feeling very bitter about having to start basically at square one again.  He gave me a mini-pep talk and told me to finish strong.  I did not finish strong.  But I finished, and there is strength in that!

On my run, I started comparing myself and my current place to others.  I started wishing I was faster.  Wishing I could finish races in my "goal" times.  Wishing I hadn't spent the last ump-teen months eating cookies and ice cream.

Then I remembered a thought I read.
"The best time to plant a tree was 20 years ago.  The second next best time is now."
 --Chinese Proverb

How powerful.  How insightful.  Sure, it's always easy to say...'oh I wish I would have just started before....how much easier it would be now!'

But I can't dwell on that.  And neither can you!  This journey is constantly in progress.  There is no finish line.  But the best time to start working on yourself is now.  Because what you do today, determines what your tomorrow will look like.

Do not fall into the trap of comparison.  When I got home from my run Saturday, I had to have a few friends and my husband shake some sense in to me.  What I accomplished this week was fantastic, and what I accomplished this month has been double what I did last month.  (And February was double what I did in January.)  It is only myself that I should compare me to.

That is the only FAIR comparison.  That is the only comparison that matters.  So while I am not going to be joining the olympics anytime soon, or breaking any records with my pace...just know this.  I'm out there doing it.  And I hope you are too!  Because together, each day we do right puts us closer to the person we want to be!

13.1

The day came.  And it was full of excitement.  My stomach was in knots.  Seriously, I was in the bathroom all morning...nervous.

Why would I be nervous?  Oh.  I don't know.  Maybe because I was running 13.1 miles and had ran only ONCE since Christmas.  (Smart, right?)  But I knew I had to try.  I had a lot of people asking me what I hoped to finish in, what my goal was.  Honestly, my goal was to start.  To keep my heart rate within a safe range, and to hopefully finish.  I knew I'd be lucky to finish under 3hrs with the lack of training this last month.  (You lose endurance and speed so quickly when you stop running....)

Saturday morning there was a nervous buzz around the house.  My mom and I got up and dressed, got a bite to eat.  Before we knew it, it was time to head over to the starting line.  It was a little chilly outside (frost on the windows) but I could tell it was going to be an absolutely BEAUTIFUL day!  I was not disappointed...

As we arrived at the starting line, we met up with my sister-in-law and her twin sister.  I believe it was both of their first half marathon's too.  We stayed inside the convention center until right before race time to stay warm.  It was fun counting down the time with them!

(Emilea, Felice (my sis-in-law), my mom, me)

As we went outside, it was time to line up.  I clearly made my way to the back of the pack.  I was not expecting any sort of crazy pace.  It seems like by the time we got in line, the gun went off.  It was SO FAST.  And just like that....we were running!

I began the race with my mom.  I was planning to stay with her as long as possible.  (But in my head, I knew I would have to drop behind eventually to not over exert myself.)

We ran the first 3 miles together.  It was fun!  So fun!  I was feeling great, but I noticed on my Garmin watch that my heart rate was jumping up into the 170's and I had vowed to myself to stay under that to make sure I wasn't putting this pregnancy at risk.  I slowed, and told my mom to keep going...knowing she would do awesome.  (And she did!)

After my mom pulled a head, I teared up for a moment.  Knowing this run was different than I had originally planned.  But also at the fact that I was still able to use my body in ways I never could with a previous pregnancy.  I felt strong, and yet vulnerable at the same time.

I quickly got lost in my surroundings.  I love people watching!  So watching all the runners and the spectators, it's a magical thing during a race!

At this point in the race, I was very familiar with the route.  I had ran it many times before.  I knew just what to expect.  It was probably the most challenging part of the route (in regards to elevation) but I felt great.  I would run and run and run until my heart rate reached the maximum I was okay with.  Then I'd walk and let it drop back down.  This was the only way I knew I could run the race without pushing myself and risking anything.

Each of the aid stations were no more than 3 miles apart.  I stopped each time and guzzled lots of water, and some gatorade, hoping to prevent dehydration.

As I ran up one particular hill, I was feeling kind of blah.  I was again wishing to have been able to keep up with my mom, I was thinking about where she was on the course.  I ended up pulling out my phone during one of my walking periods.  I sent Jason a text.  Told him I had dropped behind.  He was very sweet and told me I was doing great!  To just worry about my pace, and to run at a pace that I was comfortable with.  I felt reassured.

I was 1/2 done.

As I turned onto a main road, it was a lot of fun.  (And a lot of work!)  It was the yuckiest hill of the route.  I'm not going to lie.  I walked a lot of that hill.  But during that stretch I was greeted by my cute neighbor honking and waving.  Then Jason passed by with the kids in our car, honking and waving.  It was the burst of energy I needed!

As I ran down that hill, it was mile 8 and I was running strong.  I looked at my Garmin after the race and besides those first 3 miles, mile 8 was my best.  A high 10:00 min/mile split.  It was at that point that I saw my cute kids and husband along the course.  He had pulled off and the girls had their homemade signs, cheering me on!  I ate it up!  Jason told me I was only about a minute behind my mom and sister-in-law at this point.  I felt good about that!  I said quick goodbyes and knew I'd see them next at the finish line.

The last 5 miles are done on the trail.  I had never run the trail before.  I wasn't prepared for how boring it was.  womp, womp, womp.  I tried to get lost in my music.  I tried to focus on other things.  I tried to let my mind wander.  Mostly, I just kept moving forward.  Knowing the faster I went, the faster I'd be done.

As I rounded the corner to 11 miles, I saw my dear neighbor and her family!  I teared up.  I had no idea they planned to be at that rest stop.  She gave me a hug, told me how amazing I was.  (I felt far from it at that point!)  I guzzled a bunch of water and gatorade.  I was tired.  I wanted to be done.  Seeing her gave me a push though.  It gave me the motivation to keep putting one foot in front of the other.  I remember looking at my clock at that moment and seeing 2:09 and thinking I could really finish this thing in the high 2:30's possibly!  I was excited and ready to push!

Then, the last 2.1 miles happened.  Those last 2.1 miles were hard.  Like really hard!  I'd take a step and my calves would buckle with charlie horse type cramps.  I'd have to stop and stretch them out, then start jogging again.  Rinse, and repeat!  I kept praying that they would just go away so I could finish this thing strong!  Or at least for a banana...  But each step I'd take, they'd cramp up.  Then as I'd stretch the calves, my shins would get a terrible cramp.  I'm not exaggerating when I say I was less than hopeful about finishing the race.  I could barely take a step without needing to stretch it out...

I was about 1.5 miles out and stretching against a wall when I saw someone walking back toward me.  It was my sweet neighbor.  He asked if I was ready to finish this thing....  I wanted to tell him no.  Just go tell Jason to get the car and come pick me up.  But my pride was too much to admit that I wanted to quit.  (Although, I'm sure he could probably tell...)

We started jogging slowly, I started talking to him.  Asking him how he'd done.  (You know, the guy who decided to run this race just a week prior...he, who is such a stellar runner that he only needed to run like 6 training runs before the half to finish sub-2hour...)  (Yeah, I wanted to slap him too...)  :)

I honestly don't remember much else we talked about, just that he was taking my mind off the hellish last mile!  I could see where the finish line was.  I knew it was just ahead, but my calves were doing anything they could to keep me from that finish line.  We had to stop a few times so I could stretch them out.  But as I neared the last bend I knew I wanted to finish strong.  I knew there would be no walking across the finish line.  So one last stop to stretch and I was off...as we hit mile 13, the course turns and the last 0.1 miles is a straight shot to the finish line.  Curtis told me I'd done great, and that the last tenth was mine....he then stepped off with his family who were there cheering me on.

Running through the finish line chute is exhilarating.  I was trying to focus on running...and not letting my calves give out on me...but yet trying to look through the crowd to find faces I recognized.  I heard the cheering long before I saw the faces.  As I crossed the finish line, I felt amazing.  I forgot for a moment about all the bad and hard, and just lived in the moment!

Then, I almost fell because of the spasms.  As I bent down, I saw my mom...cheering me on.  I saw the smile on her own face...and for one more second, I wished I could have seen her as she crossed her finish line.

As they gave me my medal, I felt amazing.  I had so much support from friends, family, neighbors!  My kids were thrilled.  Well.  2 of my kids were thrilled.  The other was TICKED!  Like seriously M.A.D. She was mad because I didn't register HER for the race!  She wanted to cross the finish line and receive a medal and she made sure we heard about it all afternoon!

After receiving my medal, it was kind of a blur.  I turned in my chip, realizing I had no idea what my time even was.  But it didn't matter.  I finished the whole 13.1 fricking miles while carrying another human in my belly.  I was able to cross this half marathon off my bucket list, even if my plans along the way had changed.  I finished.

But I couldn't have finished without you.  Each of you!  From your emails, comments, FB messages, texts, phone calls, letters.  I have been overwhelmed at the amount of support I've received!  I feel blessed to have such amazing people in my life...those who were cheering for me at the finish line, and those who were there in thought!

It's now been a couple days and the excitement and exhilaration is still there.  There is something addicting about a finish line.  There's something about putting in all the time and effort in training, and then crossing that line and feeling the accomplishment!  I crave it.

And that is why I know this will not be my last race!  In fact, I have lots of races I hope to run in the future....

So you might be wondering what my official time was.  I wondered to after I got home Saturday afternoon.  Finally, I looked it up.  I came in at 2:50:03.  While I surely wasn't the fastest (by a long shot), I also wasn't the slowest.  But even if I had been...I'd still have been faster than if I'd been sitting on my couch all morning!  After all, unless you are a massively professional runner, isn't it all about putting forth your best effort?  And that's what I did.  I put forth the best I had for this moment.  And I finished.

And guess what, you can too!  Maybe you've never run a day in your life.  Or maybe you run every day!  Where ever you are in your journey, you too can accomplish greatness!  You too, can cross finish lines along the way!  You too, have a cheering section, rooting you along!  You too, have the strength to become your best self!  So maybe it's a literal race you want to run...or maybe your finish line is referring to something else.  Either way, step out and let yourself be strong!

Strength

I read a beautiful blog post late last night by one of my all-time favorite bloggers, Kelle Hampton.  If you haven't read Kelle's story, it's one that is emotional and raw.  Her story has always hit close to home for me in a lot of different ways.  But that is for a different post...

Over the last week, I've struggled a bit.  To be completely honest, I've wondered if I did the right thing in sharing my story.  You see, I shared one of the most vulnerable parts of myself with you.  (And a bunch of other strangers.)  And up until this point, it hadn't been a huge deal.  In fact, up until this point I know I only had a few dozen people coming here regularly.

Now, that's changed.  A lot.

Kelle was speaking directly to me when she said:

If you share, if you publish, if you write, if you speak, if you are brave and decide to put yourself out there, I promise you, someone won't like it.  Someone won't agree with you.  Someone will misinterpret.  Someone will think that you are silly, unqualified and that your work is crap.  That you are crap.  They might not just think it but they might tell you.  And that won't feel good, especially not the first time you hear it.

Over the past couple weeks, I've received some negative feedback about my story.  Some of it from strangers, some not.  Some of them were sent directly to me, some I stumbled upon myself, and some others told me about.  But in all cases, it hurt.

It made me question if I was brave enough to continue on.  It made me question if I was doing the right thing in sharing such a personal, still heart-wrenching-to-me story.

I had been thinking long and hard about it.  Last night, after reading her post, I realized I already knew the answer.

Yes.  I have done the right thing in sharing.  It isn't easy to get negative feedback.  And hopefully my skin will get thicker.  I do value all opinions, and welcome them.  I only ask that you use tact and grace when vocalizing them.

I could have taken the easy way out.  I could have decided to let these several instances affect me.  I could have opted to stop opening myself up, I could opt to stop letting myself be vulnerable by choosing not to share my story and my words.  I could.

But it's moments like yesterday, when I open my email and am moved to tears because of the multiple beautiful emails I receive telling me how much I have touched them and changed their lives.  It's moments when I log on and read the comments left for me that give me chills, thinking of how many others might still need to find hope again.

That is what this blog is about.  Sure, the premise is a weight loss blog.  But it's about so much more!  It's about finding hope again.  It's about finding strength when you feel it is gone.  It's about learning to love yourself, especially when you feel most unlovable.

Lets be honest.

It is always easier to blog when things are going great.  You know, when I'm losing!  When I'm eating great!  When I'm doing what I know I need to do.

It is not always easy to blog when I'm not.

I've been struggling a bit.

Okay.  That's a lie.  I've been struggling a lot.

I haven't been able to quiet the negative self talk.  Which then causes me to enter "the cycle."  Let me describe it...maybe you can relate?

Negative self talk....negative self talk makes me feel like crap....I feel like crap so I reach out to food....I reach out to food and I feel like crap....I feel like crap so I don't exercise as much....the scale goes up....negative self talk happens.....rinse and repeat.

I've done a lot of thinking since my last post.  And I decided more than anything, I want people to know I'm normal.  I have bad weeks (or bad months!).  This journey has not been a straight loss for me.  I've hit major bumps, and I still continue to hit them from time to time.

I have hit a bump now.

And the last thing I wanted to do was blog about it because honestly, I felt dumb.

I mean really.  Who gets into the 140's and then gains all the way back up?  Me.  I do.  I did.  And I have been VERY hard on myself for it.

Sure, I could make you a million excuses:  school is hard, my life is full of stress, etc, etc, etc.

Ultimately, it hurts to know that I was so close YET AGAIN and then I fell into the self sabotage mode.  I've been down on myself for not finishing what I was SO CLOSE to finishing.  Really down.  But I've had a few ahh-ha moments I want to share.

1.  I may be frustrated with where I'm at in the moment, but that doesn't take away what I've done up until this point.  I have lost a lot of weight.  And I've managed to keep most of it off.

2.  I need to find joy in this journey.  My focus this next week is to find the moments when I can appreciate exactly where I'm at TODAY.  Sure, I may not be where I hoped to be.  But I'm a crap load ahead of where I used to be!

So while I intended to stop blogging for a while, I realize I actually need it.  I need to stay focused.  I need to STOP GAINING!  I need to be grateful for how far I've come.  And although I have to re-lose weight AGAIN, this is what the journey is about.  There isn't a finish line.  Rather, there is a lifetime of work ahead to maintain my health.

So no matter where you are in YOUR journey, take a fresh look at yourself TODAY.  Be proud of who you are!  And no matter what, DON'T GIVE UP ON YOURSELF!  I realize it's easy to do (stupid negative self talk!).  But really YOU deserve the best!  You DESERVE to hit your goals!  Maybe life has gotten hard for you too, that doesn't mean we give up on our goals.  Maybe we have to adjust the "finish date" but that doesn't take anything away from the end goal!

Continue working toward being the you you want to be and before you know it, you'll be there!

Neglected.

I have neglected my little blog.  (And coincidently, I have neglected myself.)

I've been in a funk.

We went up to SLC to visit family a few weeks back and ever since I came home I haven't been myself.  I've found myself diving head first into candy bowls, I've found myself making excuses as to why I don't need to run.  I've found myself averaging less and less steps daily.

Then, I realized:  THIS HAS GOT TO STOP!

This is exactly what I did last year.  Halloween came and went and I decided that I could move less and eat more.  The weight came on and I did nothing about it for 7 months.  This is exactly what I do when I am SOOOOOOO close to what I have considered impossible for quite some time now.

You see, I have always said I wanted to see 145 on the scale.  But I never really knew if that was possible.  So each time I get close (this year, I've been closer than EVER!) I enter into self-sabotage mode.

It's depressing.

It's humiliating.

It's frustrating.

So here I am.  Now.  Again, losing the weight I've already lost.  Luckily, I caught it this time.  I am only up a few.  And now I'm working back down to where I need to be...back to where I thought was impossible.

Because ultimately, my goal for January 1, 2013....to NEVER have to make another resolution to lose weight again!

I've got some work to do, but I have put my head down and I am gonna get there!

Days like this help.....(short story that I definitely want to remember)...

Today I set out to run 7 miles.  (My longest run yet in my training for the 1/2 marathon.)  I was feeling good, a little chilly, but good.  That is, until mile 5 hit me.  At 5.5 miles I started the uphill portion of the run.  And I think it was knowing that the remainder of my run would all be uphill that had me worried. I was struggling.  I was thinking about walking.

I honestly thought in my head 'who would even know if I walked a portion right now."

It was at that moment that 3 city workers stopped the work they were doing on a golf course and came to the edge of the street and began clapping.  (Well, 2 were clapping and 1 was giving me a thumbs up and yelled "You can do it!")

It just so happens that at that exact moment, the lyrics to the song in my ears were "I have been blessed, and it feels like I found my way.  I thank God for all I've been given at the end of every day.  I have been blessed."  

It's safe to say that my eyes began filling with tears.  I realized how far my body has come.  I realized that just back in July I couldn't even run 1.5 MINUTES without dying!  Now I was running miles and miles.

I felt blessed.

And I finished the run strong.

I love the tender mercies that get me through the hard times in life...it makes me feel not so alone even when difficult challenges lie ahead.  (in my runs, and in my life in general!)

Hopefully you can take a step back and find the tender mercies in your life as well, because I promise they are there!

Moments.

I had a moment yesterday.

It wasn't a moment.  It was more like an event.  And not a good event, either!

You see, I have this business conference I have to be at on Saturday.  The dress code:  business casual. Sadly, that means no scrubs.  Or jeans.  Or sweats and hoodie sweatshirts.

I was actually excited (at first) at the idea of going shopping and finding something nice to wear.  I set out yesterday to search.  I asked the hubby to tag along since my style sense is pretty poor.  Sadly, I ended up going on my own.

I wandered through the store, finding what I thought were cute things.  I pick up pants, blouses, etc.  I head to the dressing room....

NOTHING FIT RIGHT.

Every time I'd try something on I felt it hugged my body in all the wrong places.

And can I just say that dressing room mirrors are HORRIBLE!!!

Eventually I bought what I thought were the "best" options.  Apparently I was mistaken and they will all be going back today...

To say the whole event put me in tears would be an understatement!  I was full out, sobbing...you know, ugly crying!  I felt awful about myself.

Now I know what some of you might be thinking....'why is SHE feeling sorry for herself when she can fit in a size 8...I'd KILL for a size 8!'

Trust me people!  I've said things like that in my head before about others.  So I'm going to do the best I can to explain where all these tears came from.

Not so very long ago I was the very fat girl.  I was the girl who hid from everything (people, events, pictures, etc.)  I would struggle to find clothes that fit me right.  I always told myself that I would NEVER have this problem if I could just lose all the weight.

Now, the weight is gone.  But my emotions are not fixed.  I see all my trouble areas anytime I am looking in the mirror.  I don't even see myself...it's almost like I see the girl I was before.  It's really strange.  But if I'm being perfectly honest, there are few things that I wear that I actually feel attractive in.  (Hence the reason I mostly wear big t-shirts and sweatshirts STILL!)

Just once I'd love to go into a dressing room with clothes in hand and have something I picked out actually work for my body!  Just once I'd like to not feel embarrassed about my lack of style.  Just once I'd like to feel like a million bucks in an outfit. 

Yesterday was not that day.  Yesterday, I left feeling deflated.  Yesterday I left feeling vulnerable.

Yesterday I came home and threw my ugly cry and sadness into left over chocolate cake.......

What's in a number?

I have said many times that I will not let the scale dictate who I am as a person!
We are certainly more than any number given...

However, there are moments in my journey when that number means a lot!  There are moments when that number defines, in some way, who we have become.

When I started this journey, that number defined me at 233 pounds.  (I'm 5'7)  This put me at severely obese, I even read on one chart that I was morbidly obese.

I was fat.  I liked food a lot.  Like, a lot, a lot!  I didn't exercise.  Like ever.

I would be out of breath climbing one flight of stairs!  I would never get down on the floor to play with my kids because I couldn't sit comfortably with all my fat bulging (not to mention I was too tired!).  My wardrobe consisted of sweatshirt hoodies and stretchy exercise pants most of the time.  (That I wore because they had an elastic waist, NOT to exercise in...)  I did have 2 pairs of pant that "fit"...and by "fit" I mean I could button up if I sucked in really hard and held my breath while the waist band pinched off all feeling creating a rather large muffin top.

I remember how awful I felt.  I remember hating mirrors.  I would NEVER look in them!  I was miserable.  I felt stuck.

One might question how a person gets that way.  I can't speak for everyone, but I can tell you that for me food was my comfort.  I hated myself.  HATED MYSELF!  I had repressed a lot of emotional garbage.

For years (10 years to be exact) I allowed the self-hate and the self-blame from being raped affect me.  You see, I decided all those 10 years ago (11 now...) that I didn't deserve anything out of life.  I decided I was damaged goods after everything that happened to me.  Over the years I ignored my feelings, I ignored myself.  I ate to numb the hurt and pain that was too difficult to face.  Eventually, it began affecting every aspect of my life!  I would even try to self-sabotage relationships when I felt I didn't deserve to be in them...luckily I have an amazing husband that never left my side through it all!

I had let myself become the girl that ate upwards of 3,000-4,000 calories a day at times (maybe more...I stopped counting).  I had let myself become the girl that would go through 3 different fast food drive-thrus for 3 different dinners...then be so ashamed and embarrassed that I would stop at a dumpster before heading home to get rid of the "evidence."  Because if my husband never knew, it must have never happened....right?

I was the girl that could eat a whole carton of ice cream without thinking about it!  I was the girl that would eat a 4th and 5th meal every night!

I was the girl that was so sad at who I had become that I just kept spiraling downward.

Then.  It hit me.  Like a million bricks!  I took my daughter into the doctor for a well-child check up where he told me that if I wasn't careful, her growth pattern would continue down a very bleak road.  He showed me the graph.  We followed the pattern, and by age 18 she was set to be at a 36 BMI.

(Before I go on, let me add in a side note:  My children have an EXCELLENT pediatrician who was very careful to talk just to me about this as to not birth any self-esteem issues in my daughter who to the average joe looked relatively healthy....not fat, maybe a little thick, but by no means fat!  And I'm so grateful to him for his caution in approaching the subject!)

I left the office that day and sat in my car and took a good look at myself.  For one of the first times, I realized I needed to make a choice.  I could choose to continue down the path I was leading my children, OR I could choose better for them.

Up until this point, 9 times out of 10 I would let my past win.  I would let the hurt and the anger and raw emotions of all that happened to me get the best of me!  I was allowing those pathetic jerks, who forever changed my life, to continue dictating the path I was on because I didn't think I deserved any better for myself.  I was being a victim in my own life.

And had it only been affecting me, there is a chance this story would have been totally different.  However, that day I looked at myself in the mirror and decided that the obesity was going to stop with me!  I realized I put my family (and myself) through enough already, now....a decade later I needed to finish fixing what I started when I ran that marathon to heal.  You see, I had released the hurt and the pain and the anger when I trained for that marathon.  But I never had been able to fix my "deserve level."

I can honestly say, thanks to my children and husband I realized I did deserve more!  They also deserved more!  They deserved a mom and wife who looked forward to living.  They deserved a mom and wife who was teaching them healthy coping mechanisms, rather than the garbage I'd been showing them for far too long!

And that's where the journey began...slowly.

And while the journey is still in progress, yesterday became a milestone that for YEARS felt so out of reach!  Sure, it might just be a number on the scale to some...but to me, I can look in the mirror today and FINALLY say I am healthy again after a decade of suffering guilt, anger, remorse, frustration, loneliness, embarrassment, shame, and so much more!

 I finally hit 159.5 which puts me at a healthy weight again for the first time in my life since I was raped!

The emotions I felt (and am still feeling) as I saw that number on the scale were so overwhelming!  (The tears still stream down my face now!)

Everyone has different reasons for why they do what they do.  And no matter what the reason was that you gained weight, you have the power to stand up and change!  It may feel hard.  It may seem unrealistic.  But I promise, I PROMISE!  Each of you has the power to determine your own success story!

Don't let things from your past determine who you are today, and who you will be tomorrow!  I allowed my past to dictate my life for far too many years!  Years that I will never get back!  And now today, seeing where I've pushed myself to physically...I know I am strong.  I know I can can accomplish hard things!

(just for side by side comparison)

While I couldn't say this 10 years ago, I can today:  Life is good today!  And I am in love with the life I have.  Sure, it is still hard...LOTS!  But it is good, and I feel so blessed to be living the life I have!  Crappy things happen to all of us!  ALL OF US!  But the true determination of character is who we become from our past, how we let it shape our lives!

It is never to late to take back control in your life....NEVER!

Confidence

(Rather than boring you with a soapbox post with no pictures, I decided to randomly scatter pics of me and my family throughout the post.  Some who know me already will think it's boring, but with all the new readers, this will give you a chance to get to know my little family...)

Somewhere along this journey of life there comes a point where things change a little.  (At least it did for me.)

I've watched my girls as they grow.  I've watched them exhibit confidence (sometimes even cockiness).  You know how some parents teach their kids to be modest in their self confidence?  I have taken a different route.  Instead, I let them portray their extra confidence now...while they have lots to spare!  You see, growing up is hard.  Add to that, being a girl!

(My oldest...who happened to fracture her arm this week.)

I have watched my oldest as she has grown.  As a child, she had no shame.  She wasn't shy of herself around us.  She was sure of who she was.  As her parent, I would constantly build her self-esteem.  You see, I knew not too far into the future she would need all the built up confidence she could get.

I thought of it like a bank.  No, she didn't necessarily need me telling her how beautiful she was, how smart she was, how kind she was....she was already pretty sure of herself.  However, I knew there would be a day when the tide switched.  I knew there would be a time when she would need to start withdrawing those compliments, those self-esteem boosts, because the world would start wearing on her.  I just prayed I was giving her enough of a "savings account" to stay ahead of what was to come.

Slowly, I've watched my almost 8 year old become more aware of her appearance.  I've watched her be more hesitant in what she wears, I've heard her make comments about herself that break my heart.  With each moment that happens, I try to cushion her with 100 others where she can feel good about herself.

Because really, isn't that what we all are after?  Confidence in ourselves!

(My youngest, finding the confidence to FINALLY stand on his own.)

I know there was a point where I was very self-confident.  However, over the years the confidence has not always been where I want it for my children when they are my age.  Sure, some say having extra weight weighs down a persons confidence.  Some say by losing weight, you can gain confidence again.  But shouldn't confidence be about more than weight....more than what we look like?

What I'm trying to get at is I'm still Alisha.  I was Alisha when I weighed 233 pounds.  I am Alisha now at 175 pounds.  Why is it I sold myself short at 233 pounds?  Why is it that I told myself I wasn't "enough" when in fact, I'm still me?

I found myself doing it again this last week....'oh, when I lose 30 more pounds...then, THEN I will be confident and be who I want to be.'

WHAT A CROCK!

Seriously.  Confidence and self-assurance is something you can develop whether you weigh 50 pounds or 350 pounds or 1050 pounds.  Weight does not define us.  It is not who we are.  I am me.  You are you.  What surrounds us physically does not define us.  The great news is YOU can define yourself.

 (My middle child, who is definitely not afraid to be who she knows she is...)

Sure, some might look for excuses as to why they aren't happy.  Some might blame their unhappiness on weight, others might use an excuse of a bad relationship or a failed marriage.  Maybe you are saying you aren't happy because you don't have a good job, or you don't have many friends.  Maybe you are like me...maybe you had a traumatic experience happen that made you shut down for many years.  Maybe you have let something like being sexually assaulted affect you.  What those are, are excuses.  Ultimately, happiness lies within each of us.

Our happiness is OUR OWN PERSONAL decision!

Now that's not to say that I don't feel better about myself now that I'm over 50 pounds lighter.  Sure, that's true.  I feel better when I move.  I feel better when I exercise.  PHYSICALLY I feel better.

Emotionally, I'm still working it all out.  Because like I said before...I'm still me.  I still see myself as the 233 pound girl who struggles with reaching out to friend people.  I still see myself as the 233 pound girl who is self-conscious.  No amount of weight can change what is happening emotionally....that's a whole other journey that I'm trying to take.  And no matter where you are on your own journey in this life...the emotional journey is one I strongly recommend.  Only you can help yourself.  Only you can find happiness for yourself.  Only you can hold yourself to a higher way of living.  Only you can decide it's time to start respecting YOU for who you are TODAY!

So today, that is what I'm focusing on.  Respecting myself for who I am.  I am happy, and it is not because I'm 50+ pounds lighter...it's because I have a deep love for myself.  I respect myself and the trials I have been through.  I have worked hard to move past many emotional issues that could have been enough to stop anyone.  You are only as strong as what you choose to overcome.  I choose to be stronger than my past!  Everyone has a past.  Everyone has a reason to quit.  Everyone has a reason to be down, or sad.  Trust me, I've spent too many years focusing on what happened to me when I was raped.  I spent so much time focusing on my hatred for the men that caused me so much hurt and anger.  I spent so much time hating and so much time in anger that it was only natural to hate myself.

Here's the good news...you can move past whatever is holding you back.  It's not easy.  Oh, it's so not easy!  Especially if the wounds are deep, and unhealed.  But it can be done.  I know this because I've worked so hard to overcome my own past.  I realized something very important....it wasn't the men who raped me that were causing me pain.  Sure, in the moment...it was all them!  In the moment, I had no control.  I am by NO MEANS taking any responsibility for the act.  What I am taking responsibility for is how I reacted after.  I spent far too many years of my life miserable because of what happened to me.  I was allowing myself to be in a negative place because of what was done to me.

I was allowing it.

So I chose to change.  I chose to decide I was more important that my past.  It doesn't matter what your past is, it doesn't matter what baggage you are holding on to....what matters is that you are holding on to it.  And, by holding on to negative baggage it holds you back from your great potential.

(Yes, I think my family is pretty darn amazing.  Copyright Studio C Photography)

Each day is a blessing.  There truly is good in each and every day.  That's not to say that I still don't have moments of sadness.  (Everybody does, right?)  But the strides I've taken to focus on the great things in my life...rather than focusing on the negative aspects is what I've worked hard at.  I'm sure there will still be days I struggle.  I'm sure there will still be moments ahead that will affect me.  But what I know is that I have the power.  I am in control of how I let different events affect my life.  I can let them drag me down, or I can let them propel me forward into something more.

I'll chose to be propelled forward...the thought of drowning in negativity scares me.

What are you going to choose?  (Can I give you a suggestion....choose YOU, stop choosing your past.)

And, if you've made it all the way to the end of my long soap box...I will reward you a pat on the back.  :)

(Copyright, Studio C Photography)

Now excuse me while I go love on my guy....the one who has been by my side through the good and the bad!

Way past crying.

Where do I start?

Maybe by warning you that this will not be an upbeat, happy post.  Or maybe by warning you that there could be some profanities that escape my mouth fingers as I express what is in my heart right now.

Maybe by telling you that sometimes I really hate this journey.  Hate. It.

4 weeks ago I weighed in at 184.9.  Over the last 4 weeks I have been really pushing myself.  I've been counting calories...I've been trying to make smarter choices.  No, I haven't been perfect...but I will never be perfect.  Instead, I have faced each new day trying to do better than the last....trying to improve some of my imperfections.

Along these last 4 weeks I have been increasing my workouts.  I have been consistent.  REAL CONSISTENT!  I have followed the C25K app.  I have added in at least 1 extra run a week.  I have also added Zumba in the last 2 weeks.  I've been sweating and sweating and sweating.  And I am sore, sore, sore.

So why in the hell am I not seeing anything on the scale?

In the last 4 weeks I've fluctuated.  My lowest was on 7/20 at 180.1.  Yet today I'm back up to 183.0.

I'm not going to sugar coat things.  I'm beyond frustrated.  When I saw todays number...down 0.2 from yesterday I cried.

I cried a lot.

I feel nothing I do is making a difference.

I'm scared because I wonder why I'm even pushing myself this hard if I'm not going to get results.

Sure, I am feeling stronger.  Sure, I'm able to run longer without getting winded.  But really...can I just get out of the 180's again?!

I got pissed today.  I threw a not-so-little temper tantrum.  I went to my room to pout.  I cried a lot on my bed.  I hurt.  Physically and emotionally!

Whoever said this journey isn't hard should be shot.  Seriously, it's draining me.

I know what I need to do.  It's just really hard to do it.  I need to box up my scales for a while.  I see that I am giving them way to much power.  It's hard though because I do want to feel good about a weight loss.  And each day I wake up, put on my happy face and think that THIS, THIS will be the morning I see a drop.

Jason keeps telling me that it's like I'm climbing a mountain.  Until I reach that peak, its frustrating and hard.  And you wonder why you are putting yourself through the agony.  Then, out of no where, you are at the peak.  Things make sense.

When am I going to be at that point?  When will things start to add up and make sense again?

I've really done a lot of reflecting over the last couple days.  I sought out advice from my ultra skinny brother (who seems to have it all figured out).  Even the advice he gave me was stuff I had known...but I again re-evaluated everything, just to make sure I'm not missing something.

I am literally at a loss (and not the kind of loss I want to be at...).

So here I am.  A girl.  A girl who is in tears because I feel I have put forth every ounce of effort I have. I have turned down food I love to eat.  I have made dinners from vegetables.  I have cut my portion sizes drastically.  I have downed 100 oz of water a day.  Here I am a girl who sweats her little heart out.  Who goes to bed at night completely exhausted and sore from working out.

Here I am a girl who is drained emotionally because no matter what I do, nothing has changed.  Nothing.

So what am I to do?  I am going to try to lace up my shoes and put my big girl panties on.  I'm going to TRY to focus on what I can control.  You see, I have absolutely no control what the scale shows each morning.  None.  But I can control if I get up and do my run in the morning.  I can control if I walk out the door to Zumba at night.  I can control what I put in my mouth...and what I don't put in my mouth.

So, as hard as it is, I have to focus on what I can control and hope that eventually my weight catches up to me.  I know I have been working hard, I know I have been eating better...eventually that has to pay off.  And if it doesn't, well.....then that will suck and I might have to be put in the looney bin....then it doesn't.

Now that I've cried a lot more trying to write this post, I'm at the point where I'm going to give up my scale.  I am going to box it up.  I am going to keep doing what I feel I can do...and push myself even harder.  I'm going to take body measurements today.  Then, I'm going to tuck them away.  I'm not even going to think about comparing progress until I finish my 5K on August 25th.  (That is a month and a day from today.)  At that point, I will measure myself again.  I will reflect on myself and my progress.....and maybe, just maybe...I'll unbox my scales at that point.

(Pray that by then I see the 170's on my scale!!!)

No matter what

Today I lost my motivation.

I had such a hard time finding the desire to get my work-out on.  I laid in bed longer than usual, and by the time I was up I was thinking about making an excuse to put it off.

It's true what they say...the first step into your run is always the hardest!

I remembered a cute little song from Martina McBride.  The song talks a lot about excuses people can make for not doing this...but ultimately we need to Do it Anyway!

So I did.

I popped in my headphones and began and I am so glad that I did.  Not only did I do it, but I pushed myself harder today.  Maybe it was the music I was listening to that motivated me, maybe it was the scale.  Or maybe, it was just me.

I got pretty emotional today as a song came on.  It's a cheesy song.  (But you'll learn that I'm quite the cheese ball!)  But today as I was trying to push myself harder than I have so far, I was really letting the words sink in:

I can almost see it.

That dream I'm dreaming 
But there's a voice inside my head saying 

'You'll never reach it'

Every step I'm taking,

Every move I make feels lost with no direction

My faith is shakin

But I, I gotta keep trying

Gotta keep my head held high

~The Climb, Miley Cyrus

I cried.

That pretty much sums up a lot of why I was struggling this morning.  I have head issues, and sometimes they are difficult to get past!  

It's stupid, really!  I mean I feel like I'm on a roller coaster sometimes.  Somedays I have no doubts where I'm going.  Somedays I can almost feel myself at a healthier weight.  Then, there are days like this morning.  Days when it feels so far.  Days when it feels too hard.

There are moments when I start wondering if it's really worth it.  Crazy, huh?!  But as Miley says, I gotta keep my head held high!  I have got to keep trying.  

Because I have to believe that in the end, it will be worth it.  It will be worth every step I've taken, every ounce of sweat, every sore muscle, every tear I've shed, every dessert I've passed up...

It's just gotta be worth it!

(Side note:  I've been tracking my average pace this week while doing the couch-to-10K app.  I am super excited that from Monday I've stepped up my pace by 2 minutes!

Monday 7/9/12:  15:44 min/mile

Wednesday 7/11/12:  14:26 min/mile

Friday 7/13/12:  13:47 min/mile

All three run/walks were the exact same...I just upped my speed each time.  I'm hoping by the time I'm ready for the 10K portion of this (at the end of the 14 weeks) that my pace will be a lot closer to 10:00 min/miles....or GASP, even in the 9:00's!)

Feelings

So I have a lot of feelings running through my head.

Most of them start with embarrassed and end with humiliated.

You see I have really been stupid.

I have worked hard and as of late I have just plain old given up.

I might as well have thrown in the towel.

Yep.

Humiliated just about covers it.

I mean, really!  Who loses like 70 pounds so they can stand up, clear their throat and whisper...I've gained back almost 30 of it.

Seriously.

I wasn't even going to post that.  Truthfully, I was going to make the blog private to talk about this.  THAT is how embarrassing it is to own up to this.  It makes me mad.  I makes me want to cry.  It even makes me want to give up and scarf down the cookies in my pantry.

I was ridiculously embarrassed when I had gained 12 pounds...then 15...then 17.  Now I don't even want to face myself let alone anyone who MIGHT happen to read this.

Yes, I could justify the big gains with school, husband gone all the time, going on a cruise.

But really...they are all excuses.  If I'm being honest...and honest is what I need to be...then the truth is I have been making some really sucky decisions lately.  I'm tempted to start WW again...but it costs a lot of moolah, and I don't feel it's something I can budget in right now.  ($50/month)

So this is on me.  On my shoulders.  I have to go back to why I did this to begin with.  I have to refocus on setting a better example...because lately I've been doing a pretty terrible job.

I am done living in the past.  Yes, I was down in the 150's for a 1/2 second.  I was in the 160's even longer!!  Now I'm not.  Now I'm back in the 180's GASP.  I think the world might end now that I've said that out loud.  (Seriously, you have no idea how terribly hard it is for me to admit I've gained THAT MUCH back!)  (And it's not even the low 180's....we're talking mid to high 80's!  We're talking stand on the scale with tears in my eyes asking myself why, why, WHY!?

I mean really....who does that?  Who just throws their hands in the air and turns their back to the scale.....pretending it doesn't exist?

I did.

But not anymore.

I figure I can either start playing the game of hardball ....or I have to be okay with being fat.

I will NEVER be okay with being fat.

The fat girl inside of me tries to trick me when I'm most vulnerable though.  She tells me, "It's not all that bad...really, it's only a few pounds here and a few there."

SHE LIES!

Having excess weight is terrible.  Sure, for vain reasons.  But right now Alisha...right this second remember the difference you are feeling in your breathing.  Remember how awful it feels to walk into your closet knowing all your clothes USED to fit.  Now, I search for baggy....unfortunately, sweatshirts don't really fly when it's like 100 degrees outside!

So yes.  That girl lies to you to make herself feel better.  You do not want her to feel better.  You should not feel good at all about where you are.  Take where you are right now and make it better tomorrow...and next week.  Figure this crap out.

Today.  I am back.  I am not quitting.  I am not quitting on myself.  Not today, not ever.  This may take me a lot longer that I had originally planned, but I will not quit on myself.  I wasn't raised a quitter, I'm not raising quitters, and I'm surely not a quitter!

Today.  I am back.  Watch out.

Remember Yesterday?

Remember that slump I've been in?  That really emotional, horrible slump?  You know, the one I really don't want to into details about....ya, well I'm working on kicking it's butt!

Remember this plan from yesterday?

-30 min of exercise today, no if's, and's, or but's!  DONE

-Finish playing the pity game  IN PROGRESS

-Focus on making me better  IN PROGRESS

-Focus on my kids to make me better  DONE

-Drink tons of water between now and bed  DONE

-Find something to laugh about  DONE (it was more of a giggle, but I'll take it!)

Yesterday I tried to pick up the pieces scattered every where.  I think I did fairly good.  I got up, put the pity aside long enough to get the kitchen, living room, and my bedroom all clean!  Not too shabby.  

I will say that I still haven't been watching what I eat.  That's probably the reason my scale jumped up again.  But this morning I had enough of the going up!  First thing I did when I woke up...drank a ton of water and started exercising!  I kept at it for an entire hour!  And, I am planning for more this afternoon and evening.  

I realize I may sound insane.  But working out is what I am going to use to find me again.  I'm doing it for me.  Before, I thought I was doing it for other reasons.  That's when the emotional eating set in.  But now, now I realize and remember this is for ME!!

(Now, hopefully I have time to make up for the added poundage from the last 2 days before my weigh in this week.......)

Not good.

Today is not good.  Not at all.

I don't really want to go into details.

Just know that it's going to take a freaking miracle for me to not resort to emotional eating today!