{enter guitar intro from Staind) It's been awhile since I could hold my head up high...
Hey Final Fifty gang! Long time no talkie (or more appropriately, write/read). Life has been busy. Life has been crazy. Life has been A-MAZING. Life has been very adulty. Life has been.... Well, life. Let's do a quick catch up and then we will get to the meat and potatoes (my God, everything is food related, isn't it?) of why I'm touching base again.
Last year can be summed up in two words... Love and Running. I ran a lot of races. I covered a lot of ground. I saw some beautiful country. I won a few. It was pretty cool, until it wasn't (more on that in a minute). In other news, not to bury the lead, I fell in L. O. V. E. love. Brace yourselves for a few lovey dovey cliches... This man is NOT perfect, but he IS perfect for me. He falls in the same category of "I love Jesus, but I cuss a little" as I do. We both drink whiskey ditches. He is as addicted to popcorn as much as I am. He is honorable, strong in mind and body, thinks I'm beautiful especially when I don't, is calm when I'm crazy, impulsive when I'm feeling adventurous, and brings me peace of mind and soothes my soul while simultaneously making me weak in the knees. He has three amazing kids that I am also falling in love with. We have bought a house together and things are GREAT. Don't get me wrong there is plenty of adulty suckiness that all grown-up relationships have to endure, but we seem to endure it pretty well together. Exibit A, he lives 10 hours away in Montana.
Why am I resurfacing? So, here is the thing. I am super great at being here when I need a therapeutic release. When things are really clicking and I'm feeling great, I kinda bail on you guys. Sorry about that. But, that is life, right? Here's the other thing... I have a person in my life that I has the same qualities that you guys have. He is understanding and listens, and doesn't judge. He is my person. I have a few other people that are my person's too, but sometimes it is hard to want to burden them with my trivial prater. They have real life adult issues too. At least here you guys don't have to read if you don't want to and I can fling this out in the universe and feel like I have unloaded. But now there is this human that I want to have know the nitty-gritty about me and while he isn't legally bound to listen yet, on a spiritual level, he is obligated. But, and there is always a but, there is one thing that I hold back on. This is shallow. This is something that no one should feel about themselves. That makes it no less real, and I'm certain that it is true for others as well.
I struggled with whether I should explain this chronologically or cut to the chase and rewind. The same issue screen writers have when cranking out romantic sitcoms or the next big screen drama (flashback or real time). Let's do real time. I am chuck full of self-loathing and fear right now. Rewind... I injured my foot during a trail race last October and continued to run on a stress fracture through a half-marathon in November which resulted in me being able to barely walk afterwards (hence when running became not fun). During and since I have had a HUGE flair up in plantar fasciitis that has taken me from running 50 miles a week to barely being able to squeak out 3.5 miles every other day, to no miles the past 3 weeks. My mind and body are suffering. I have put 25 lbs back on and feel (and look) like a cow. Moooooooooooo. I have $1,200 orthodics that haven't done a damn thing for me. I have rollers and pain creams, and... and... and. My eating has been ok. A little sugar has entered back in my life and my portions are a little too big. I'm still lifting and going to cross fit. I love both those things, but I have regressed a little there too. Between the time spent burning up the highway to MT, the injury, and the big fat pile of excuses I am accumulating, I am not getting it done like I was. Right down to I tried to go join a new gym yesterday (my adorable trainer gal JUST had her baby) but when I went they were closed during hours they had posted as open. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot. The self-loathing is on a whole new level now too. Here's what I am ashamed to be ashamed about... My guy, he looks like Thor minus the hammer add a cowboy hat. He has never had a fat day in his life. He is tall and drop dead gorgeous. Food isn't an issue for him. I question whether or not he is human on a regular basis. I didn't mention this before because it is just a part of him, the outside part, not the important parts that I fell for. But, and there is always a but, I don't think I am pretty enough for him. And that is all on me. He would NEVER let me think anything like this. As an eternal fat kid I have full ability to hate myself in the face of someone else's unconditional acceptance of me. This extra weight I have thrown on makes me think what is this Adonis doing with the short fat chick??? Do people think that when they see us walking along hand in hand? I am in the worst shape I have been in two years and I am so afraid of backsliding more that I am torturing myself. And then rewarding myself. And then torturing myself. It's an awesome cycle. NOT. So, I need to off load this somewhere. I ABSOLUTELY don't want him to feel like he makes me feel this way, because he doesn't. I do it to myself. I'm independent and handy like that.
Set of fears number 2. I am still plugging away at grad school and accounting classes. The more I get done and the closer I get to the end, the more I fear that it will be for not. Am I going into this student debt (debt being a bad word to me that makes me feel like there is an elephant on my chest), putting in all these hours, sacrificing so much to end up being the same bookkeeper that I am now. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE my job and who I work for, but I am trying to be a better version of me and I don't feel like I am getting it done right now and I fear I am not gonna get it done in the future. That is a BIG fear.
So, I have been praying. A lot. I have had a better relationship with God in the past year than I have had in a very long time. Much of that can be attributed to cowboy Thor. He reminded me that God is full of grace and worth sharing. We share a devotion and our faith daily. I know I need to trust God and His timing and be SOOOOOOOO thankful for all the blessings he has bestowed upon me. And I am, truly. But, and there is always a but, patience has never been one of my redeeming qualities. And I am certain that my faith and strength for others is enough to inspire the devil take up a residence and keep me from having that same strength for myself. I'm working on it. And I am going to start working on it out here in the open again and quit hiding and pretending it isn't happening. Transparency is always better than secrets. Confessions are always cleansing, maybe not green-juice cleansing clean, but cleansing none-the-less. Strength in numbers. Thank you for listening. Thank you for understanding. Thank you for knowing that I needed to unload and that I am not seeking sympathy. Thank you for being my numbers.
Tuesday, May 2, 2017
Monday, May 30, 2016
Grief... It's a process
Long time no talk. At least not talk in the sense that you read my ramblings instead of the pointed and meaningful memes that I post on The Final Fifty FB page. Here is your disclaimer for today: This post contains some sad content. It may speak to you on a different level than just the "I feel fat" level. There will be some hints of the same old sarcastic humor sprinkled throughout, but it will mostly involve real life feelings.
I know I have mentioned a few times on here about my grandmother (I call her Gram) battling cancer for the second time in her life this past year. It relates to health and weight loss in few ways and we'll get into that in a minute. Gram lost her battle in the wee hours of the morning on May 20th, just over a week ago. She passed away in her home. My mom was with her. At that point we were taking "nursing" shifts and I was at home struggling to get some sleep. A pointless task. I regret not being at her side when she crossed over, but I think in the big scheme of things she knew that I had been there all along.
This past week has been filled with all kinds of activity for me. As Gram's POA (Power of Attorney, some of you may have known what those letters stood for, they were new to me when this whole started) and executor, I have had some big decisions to make in the past couple weeks and I'm sure more to come. To say my stress level was getting a little high might be a gross understatement. I had to make life and death decisions for another person. Let me tell you, that puts some things into perspective. I don't know how long my new found priorities will last, but I hope the lessons that I take from Gram's life and her death stay with me for a good long while.
Last night was her Celebration of Life BBQ. She didn't want a funeral service. This didn't surprise me, it just wasn't her style. But she did love to see my Mom and I entertain people and feed them good food. So, that is exactly what we did. It was an impeccable spread, even by our standards, if I do say so myself. The people that came and showed their love and support for us and for her were amazing. You find out who truly cares for you in times of turmoil, and last night we were blessed to be surrounded by some A-MAZING people. Strong people. Giving people. And they all show it a little bit differently. I am so grateful for EACH and EVERY one of them.
I have been worried about the process of grief this past week. I'm the type of person that has a schedule and keeps to it because that is how I survive. I keep myself extremely busy because I operate better that way, but that means that I have to stay organized about life. So what is the schedule for grief?? Shouldn't I be crying more? Shouldn't I be more angry? Shouldn't I be stress eating my way through every day? I have been worried that because I haven't cried much at all that I don't feel bad about Gram's death. Part of me doesn't feel bad. Bare with me here. At the end, the cancer had taken away her mind and her ability to communicate. The only sounds that came from her were those of pain, no words, just painful moans. Do I feel bad that she is no longer in that pain? Hell no. As much as I would love to have her on this Earth with me, I don't want it if she has to be the condition she was in at her passing. I know in my heart that she is in a better place, and for that I am thankful. I don't feel bad about that. I also don't feel bad that my Mom and I are not watching her go through that anymore. I am glad that I was here and that I was able to care for her in her last days, and for the last year for that matter. But, it is taxing on a person to watch and help a loved one through something like that. She suffered from a condition called hepatic encephalopathy at the end. Basically your liver stops filtering ammonia and the build up is essentially poison that makes your brain go crazy. You say and do things that you have no control over. The last words that she ever spoke to me were hateful because that was the trick that her brain was playing on her. She no longer wanted to take her medicine, and she was determined to fight me on it. I have to believe that she did NOT feel that way about me and it was just an ugly side effect of what she was going through. But, I wonder if that is connected to why I haven't cried very much? Am I hurt on some level about that? Last night I stood up when it was time to serve dessert and said a few words to the people that joined us in Gram's celebration. I welled up. I felt the love. It may not be that I haven't wanted to cry, I just might not be there yet. I haven't gotten to that part of my process. Maybe I just haven't let myself. Handling all the things I have been handling hasn't necessarily given me the time to stop and let go at all. Maybe that is one of the lessons that I need to learn. Grief doesn't have a schedule. It is different for everyone. My grief might not look like my Mom's. It might not look like anyone else's. It is mine and it will happen on its own sweet time.
So, let's tie this in to our theme. My ability to cope through the past couple of weeks has stemmed on two things:
1) The support of my friends and family. And friends that I consider to be family. Without some of them to tell me I was doing ok, that I was doing the right things, and to offer up just to be there for me, there is good chance I would have lost my shit. Sorry for the profanity, but that is the truth. There were a couple in particular that were quick to remind me that my strength came from trusting God and HIS plan and HIS timing. I have to say that they could not have been more right. We were so blessed that Gram didn't have to suffer any longer than she did. We were so blessed that several things have worked out the way that they have. Right down to the funeral home that I selected being a PERFECT fit for us. God is good. And he was good enough to send me some special messengers.
2) Running. If I ever felt myself losing my grip on reality, I went for a run. I didn't grab the closest thing I could eat. I didn't drink to dullness with the rest of my family. I found an appropriate space in time and I let my feet hit the pavement repeatedly until I firmly had a grip on reality again. Running is my sanctuary now. Running is when I clear my head and talk to God. Running pumps my blood, works my lungs, and fills my heart. At the end of a run I feel the best I ever feel. I am so very grateful for finding a coping mechanism that builds me up instead of destroying my body and my mind. Hello healthy! It is my new way to deal with life. The day after Gram passed I ran my fastest half marathon to date. I was drained physically and emotionally before the race even started but all the training I have done carried me through. One of my best friends on the planet has always told me "there is no substitute for time." How right he is. He is usually talking about training horses, but as it turns out, cowboy logic is applicable to all faucets of life.
For now, I am going to proceed forward one day and one thing at a time. I am going to keep tackling things as they come. I am going to keep eating clean and running. I am going to indulge when it is warranted. I am going to do my best to take care of myself... And my Mom... And my friends... Because that is who I am and no amount of grief should stop any of that. I will go get my nails done tomorrow. And meet a bride at her venue to plan her wedding pictures. And travel to Canada for a mini-vacation on Wednesday. Because life goes on regardless of grief. Life is for the living, and I plan to live. I dearly hope that Gram enjoys watching from above.
I know I have mentioned a few times on here about my grandmother (I call her Gram) battling cancer for the second time in her life this past year. It relates to health and weight loss in few ways and we'll get into that in a minute. Gram lost her battle in the wee hours of the morning on May 20th, just over a week ago. She passed away in her home. My mom was with her. At that point we were taking "nursing" shifts and I was at home struggling to get some sleep. A pointless task. I regret not being at her side when she crossed over, but I think in the big scheme of things she knew that I had been there all along.
This past week has been filled with all kinds of activity for me. As Gram's POA (Power of Attorney, some of you may have known what those letters stood for, they were new to me when this whole started) and executor, I have had some big decisions to make in the past couple weeks and I'm sure more to come. To say my stress level was getting a little high might be a gross understatement. I had to make life and death decisions for another person. Let me tell you, that puts some things into perspective. I don't know how long my new found priorities will last, but I hope the lessons that I take from Gram's life and her death stay with me for a good long while.
Last night was her Celebration of Life BBQ. She didn't want a funeral service. This didn't surprise me, it just wasn't her style. But she did love to see my Mom and I entertain people and feed them good food. So, that is exactly what we did. It was an impeccable spread, even by our standards, if I do say so myself. The people that came and showed their love and support for us and for her were amazing. You find out who truly cares for you in times of turmoil, and last night we were blessed to be surrounded by some A-MAZING people. Strong people. Giving people. And they all show it a little bit differently. I am so grateful for EACH and EVERY one of them.
I have been worried about the process of grief this past week. I'm the type of person that has a schedule and keeps to it because that is how I survive. I keep myself extremely busy because I operate better that way, but that means that I have to stay organized about life. So what is the schedule for grief?? Shouldn't I be crying more? Shouldn't I be more angry? Shouldn't I be stress eating my way through every day? I have been worried that because I haven't cried much at all that I don't feel bad about Gram's death. Part of me doesn't feel bad. Bare with me here. At the end, the cancer had taken away her mind and her ability to communicate. The only sounds that came from her were those of pain, no words, just painful moans. Do I feel bad that she is no longer in that pain? Hell no. As much as I would love to have her on this Earth with me, I don't want it if she has to be the condition she was in at her passing. I know in my heart that she is in a better place, and for that I am thankful. I don't feel bad about that. I also don't feel bad that my Mom and I are not watching her go through that anymore. I am glad that I was here and that I was able to care for her in her last days, and for the last year for that matter. But, it is taxing on a person to watch and help a loved one through something like that. She suffered from a condition called hepatic encephalopathy at the end. Basically your liver stops filtering ammonia and the build up is essentially poison that makes your brain go crazy. You say and do things that you have no control over. The last words that she ever spoke to me were hateful because that was the trick that her brain was playing on her. She no longer wanted to take her medicine, and she was determined to fight me on it. I have to believe that she did NOT feel that way about me and it was just an ugly side effect of what she was going through. But, I wonder if that is connected to why I haven't cried very much? Am I hurt on some level about that? Last night I stood up when it was time to serve dessert and said a few words to the people that joined us in Gram's celebration. I welled up. I felt the love. It may not be that I haven't wanted to cry, I just might not be there yet. I haven't gotten to that part of my process. Maybe I just haven't let myself. Handling all the things I have been handling hasn't necessarily given me the time to stop and let go at all. Maybe that is one of the lessons that I need to learn. Grief doesn't have a schedule. It is different for everyone. My grief might not look like my Mom's. It might not look like anyone else's. It is mine and it will happen on its own sweet time.
So, let's tie this in to our theme. My ability to cope through the past couple of weeks has stemmed on two things:
1) The support of my friends and family. And friends that I consider to be family. Without some of them to tell me I was doing ok, that I was doing the right things, and to offer up just to be there for me, there is good chance I would have lost my shit. Sorry for the profanity, but that is the truth. There were a couple in particular that were quick to remind me that my strength came from trusting God and HIS plan and HIS timing. I have to say that they could not have been more right. We were so blessed that Gram didn't have to suffer any longer than she did. We were so blessed that several things have worked out the way that they have. Right down to the funeral home that I selected being a PERFECT fit for us. God is good. And he was good enough to send me some special messengers.
2) Running. If I ever felt myself losing my grip on reality, I went for a run. I didn't grab the closest thing I could eat. I didn't drink to dullness with the rest of my family. I found an appropriate space in time and I let my feet hit the pavement repeatedly until I firmly had a grip on reality again. Running is my sanctuary now. Running is when I clear my head and talk to God. Running pumps my blood, works my lungs, and fills my heart. At the end of a run I feel the best I ever feel. I am so very grateful for finding a coping mechanism that builds me up instead of destroying my body and my mind. Hello healthy! It is my new way to deal with life. The day after Gram passed I ran my fastest half marathon to date. I was drained physically and emotionally before the race even started but all the training I have done carried me through. One of my best friends on the planet has always told me "there is no substitute for time." How right he is. He is usually talking about training horses, but as it turns out, cowboy logic is applicable to all faucets of life.
For now, I am going to proceed forward one day and one thing at a time. I am going to keep tackling things as they come. I am going to keep eating clean and running. I am going to indulge when it is warranted. I am going to do my best to take care of myself... And my Mom... And my friends... Because that is who I am and no amount of grief should stop any of that. I will go get my nails done tomorrow. And meet a bride at her venue to plan her wedding pictures. And travel to Canada for a mini-vacation on Wednesday. Because life goes on regardless of grief. Life is for the living, and I plan to live. I dearly hope that Gram enjoys watching from above.
Thursday, February 25, 2016
Am I for reals?
1) I haven't run a marathon nor do I look like a marathoner. I have some half marathons scheduled. I don't know if a full one is in the cards for me or not. As hard as my last two miles were this morning, I might tell you no. Is running a marathon a defining characteristic of a runner? And what does a marathoner look like? Does a person that can run a 7min mile consistently look a certain way? I think they look like gazelles, graceful and lithe, not muscle bound and square like myself with a lingering gut and thighs that Queen wrote a song about (fat bottomed girls make the world go round). The answer is probably no to both of those questions, but obviously I have some preconceived notions in my head that needs to be beat down with a stick. In the past month I have taken almost a minute off my pace time and I hit new distance PRs all the time. I vary my training and eating to suit my running program. I lift weights to keep myself sound enough to be able to run. I forgo other things (like riding horses) in my life so my feet can hit the pavement. Are those things that a runner does?
2) On some level I never feel like I belong where I'm at. I'm a black sheep in a lot of aspects of my life. A fun black sheep, but a black sheep none-the-less. When I was obese that was the easy reason to point at. There was an extra 150 pounds hanging off of me that made a physical and psycological barrier between me and the world and me and the things I wanted. That's gone now. Or at least most of it is. So what's my excuse? There has to be some defect in my ability to process that I have worked hard to be the things I am now and I have earned the titles of good student, good person, good friend, runner, beautiful (I'll probably never buy into that one), etc. I hear these things from other people and I want to believe them but in the back of my mind I think they are just being nice. I write it off as being a realist. They reality is, even though the weight is gone, the walls it built are still there. That's the thing, insecurity doesn't go away just because you say it does.
Now what? I'm aware of it. So how I am gonna deal with it. Gracefully, I hope. Try to start an inner monologue that combats those insecurities. Try and be aware of my worth and the worth of the work I've done. Tells others they have great worth. You are who you are. If you are wearing out one pair of running shoes a month, by God, you are a runner. If you are reading this, you are beautiful. I am for real.... So are you.
Here's me in all my reality. My crazy hair. My monster thighs. My lingering belly. My calves that barely fit wide calf boots. This body isn't perfect, but it is strong, it is real, and it carries me through life. Here's to taking care of it inside and out!
Tuesday, February 2, 2016
A Tuesday List
I don't know about you guys but I already feel like it is Friday. This week has been eventful enough for a whole month for me and it's only Tuesday. So, hey, let's celebrate with a list:
1) There are several things that you see when you jog in a small town:
1) There are several things that you see when you jog in a small town:
- stray dogs getting it on at the American Legion Hall
- chickens that didn't quite make it across the road
- almost every person you know that lives in town
- strange looks from most people that can't understand why you would run when there are such things as moving vehicles to get you from one place to another
2) I have had three first in my running this week:
- I got bit by a dog and have a nasty bruise and it broke the skin. I am now carrying a stun gun when I run that route.
- I ran an 8 min mile the last mile of my five mile run yesterday. Pace PR.
- I ran 9.66 miles today. Distance PR.
3) I have been wanting to do something drastic. This happens to me in the winter when I start to feel like a caged animal. I was thinking about cutting off all my hair that I have worked so hard to grow out. I made a command decision that I cannot have short hair until I am rich/brave/ridiculous enough to get fake boobs. I'm not feminine enough otherwise to pull off a short hair cut.
4) I have not lost any weight in three weeks and it is kinda pissing me off. Here is me breaking my "the scale doesn't matter" rule. But I have been busting my ass and I'm feeling a little ripped off. I need to go back and read #2 again.
5) The college I am doing my MBA at was just named the most prestigious college in Idaho. This might be the first time EVER in my life that the word prestigious and anything related to me has landed in the same sentence.
6) I have gotten involved with one of my communities oldest fundraisers that is an emergency fund for the town. I cannot tell you how much I love being a part of this community and being around all the people that make it so great.
7) I am stretching my time to the limits this week. Sitting down to write this list is just a way of me procrastinating something else that I have either forgotten about or don't want to do. I can't remember which.
8) I had a guest lecturer at school today. The topic was ethics. The lecturer was in his 50's, dressed like a hipster, rocking a beard and a man bun, and still managed to get me thinking with all those distractions. Good on him!
9) I am getting hungry for football food... Anybody else ready for Superbowl? Raise of hands if you want the Bronco's to get it done!! All those for the Panthers???!!! How 'bout those of you that are just happy you don't have to watch Tom Brady make another play this season??? That's me.
10) Happy Tuesday. Push your limits this week. Do something crazy. Or talk yourself out of something crazy. Either way.
Monday, January 25, 2016
Mailing It In
Hey... Yo... How have you been?
For those of you that follow the Final Fifty on FB you know that I have been staying in touch via a semi-consistent stream of re-posts that I find insightful and applicable to our content here. I have not, however, given you guys the skinny (or not so skinny) on me these days. So, hold on to your Santa hats, we are gonna have a holiday recap.
I checked something off of my bucket list in the beginning of December. Actually a few somethings. First, I spent 4 fun filled days with some of the funniest and greatest people on the planet at NFR (National Finals Rodeo) in Las Vegas, Nevada. The western shopping there is un-freakin-believable and I did my best to spend my mason jar full of cash. That's right, the future accountant saved up her money in a mason jar in her nightstand. Thank you Pinterest. I have never been to Las Vegas and I have never been to NFR. It was an epic vacation and I loved every darn minute of it. I drank, I ate without abandon, and I even hauled my hiney to the gym at the MGM Grand and trotted on the treadmill. Yep, turns out you can exercise on vacation. As it also turns out you do a lot of walking in Las Vegas. My ability to judge distances was oddly skewed in that town. Maybe it a mirage in the desert?
Next, I finished my first term of my quest for an MBA with a 4.0 GPA. You can't see it, but I am patting myself on the back. Most of you that know me would quickly tell me that I am smart and that doing well in school was easy for me. Here is a little secret: I am only kind of smart and I have to work very hard at it. I spent endless hours studying and reading and writing papers. Way more than I had anticipated to accomplish that feat. What does this have to do with fitness and weight loss, you ask? Well, all that studying, reading, and writing equates to a good deal of time spent sitting on my hiney. It made my need and motivation for exercise that much stronger.
Third thing that I accomplished in December was running my very first 10k race. Before you get all excited and tell "good job" let me tell you why I failed terribly at my first 10k in epic Funny Fat Chic fashion. I had one goal, I wanted to run my first 10k in under an hour. I had been working really hard on my pace time while jogging. It was a good way for me to up my intensity while running and gave me a goal to work towards. Smart things to do to keep yourself motivated, FYI. So, here I am in my compression leggings, long-sleeve 1/4 zip running shirt, snazzy headband, and matching shoes. I've got my flipbelt (fanny pack) on and my iPhone is loaded with racing tunes and my running app. I have my number pinned on, I've walked around a few laps and stretched my quads. I've sized up my competition (everyone is competition to me) and I'm ready to get this race started. The dude at the start line gives a little speech about how the course has changed, blah, blah, blah. This doesn't really apply to me since I haven't run it before, I don't know what the old course is. No worries. Ready. Set. Race!! I'm off like a shot and after the first two miles I am slightly giddy because my race day jitters have me running half a minute faster than I have been running at home. I should reach my goal no problem. I'm clipping right along, passing people, getting passed by a few others. I blow by the first aid station, settle into my pace and go by the second one too. I notice that the herd is thinning out. The first aid station was the turnoff for the 5k racers so in my mind I am wondering if some of the 10k crew has broke to a walk. I trudge on for another 3/4 of a mile before I start to realize that I might be running with the half-marathoners. I let a group of ladies catch up to me and they confirm my fears. I turn around and head back for the finish line that is now nearly and extra mile and half away. I pick up my pace in an effort to make up for my mistake. I finish the race in 1 hour and 4 minutes. I missed my mark by 4 freakin minutes. I could have cried. I didn't, but I could have. I took my medal and skeedaddled. I decided to laugh about it and chalk it up to my horrible sense of direction honestly inherited from my mother.
I managed to lose weight over the holidays. Try not to hate me. I was very diligent about my exercise. I did indulge in some holiday food, but I tried to keep my choices smart, my portions in check, and saved what I could for drinking with friends. I got an email the other day from my calorie tracker that I have lost 60 pounds since I started tracking with it again in June. Boom. I consider myself to have 20 pounds to go. It would put me at 170. For those of you that are bad at math, that means I weigh 190 right now. Now, don't get all up in arms that I have a scale goal. It is at the bottom of my goals right now. I am weighing every two weeks. Why? I got selected to be apart of a test group for Beach Body's new work out program, Hammer and Chisel. So, I have to check in with my stats on a regular basis. I am much more worried about a few other things. For instance... I have signed up for two half-marathons two weeks apart at the end of March, start of April. I am full swing training for it now. That in addition to the Hammer and Chisel is keeping me on my twinkle toes. I am also more worried about getting into my next set of jeans. Getting into the last set was very satisfying. It feels good to fit into cute jeans. Really good. But the next set is even cuter. I am in a weird place where I am looking pretty good, but in my mind I am still fat as a house. That is the ugly plight of being an eternal fat kid. There is never enough. I'll probably never see what other people see. But, maybe that is ok. If that keeps me driven, that is a good thing. If it sabotages me into thinking that my efforts are for no good reason, that is not ok. I am trying to stay focused on my exercise goals and let the rest fall into place.
This is a tough time of year for all of us. Most people are starting to fall off of their New Year's resolution goals. The newness and excitement of beginning a new journey is wearing off and the reality of the routine and dedication is settling in. Here is my motivation Monday thought for you, Don't stop. Keep trying to build your habits. It has been a little over a year for me since I headed down this path of getting myself right again. I am not where I want to be, but I am a hell of a lot further than I was a year ago. Here is some picture proof (unedited, unfiltered, unphotoshopped)... The first photo is a camping trip a couple of summers ago. I am the one in the pink sweatshirt and shorts (WTH fashion faux pas) at the front of the ATV. It isn't a picture of me a year ago, but it might as well be, I was the same size/weight as I was in this picture. The second picture is me two weeks ago. I am wearing a sassy dress that I bought in Las Vegas and didn't even try on, so this was the first time I had seen it on me. I took the picture so my girlfriend (from Canada) that was with me when I bought it could see. I am not usually one for selfies. I don't even know who the girl who is in the first picture. I know that she couldn't run eight miles straight, or do two unassisted pull-ups, or hold her head up when she walked into a room. So, remember, duration, consistency, and habits are what makes the difference. Not fads, fast results, or starvation/deprivation diets.
Keepin it real over here at the fat farm!!
For those of you that follow the Final Fifty on FB you know that I have been staying in touch via a semi-consistent stream of re-posts that I find insightful and applicable to our content here. I have not, however, given you guys the skinny (or not so skinny) on me these days. So, hold on to your Santa hats, we are gonna have a holiday recap.
I checked something off of my bucket list in the beginning of December. Actually a few somethings. First, I spent 4 fun filled days with some of the funniest and greatest people on the planet at NFR (National Finals Rodeo) in Las Vegas, Nevada. The western shopping there is un-freakin-believable and I did my best to spend my mason jar full of cash. That's right, the future accountant saved up her money in a mason jar in her nightstand. Thank you Pinterest. I have never been to Las Vegas and I have never been to NFR. It was an epic vacation and I loved every darn minute of it. I drank, I ate without abandon, and I even hauled my hiney to the gym at the MGM Grand and trotted on the treadmill. Yep, turns out you can exercise on vacation. As it also turns out you do a lot of walking in Las Vegas. My ability to judge distances was oddly skewed in that town. Maybe it a mirage in the desert?
Next, I finished my first term of my quest for an MBA with a 4.0 GPA. You can't see it, but I am patting myself on the back. Most of you that know me would quickly tell me that I am smart and that doing well in school was easy for me. Here is a little secret: I am only kind of smart and I have to work very hard at it. I spent endless hours studying and reading and writing papers. Way more than I had anticipated to accomplish that feat. What does this have to do with fitness and weight loss, you ask? Well, all that studying, reading, and writing equates to a good deal of time spent sitting on my hiney. It made my need and motivation for exercise that much stronger.
Third thing that I accomplished in December was running my very first 10k race. Before you get all excited and tell "good job" let me tell you why I failed terribly at my first 10k in epic Funny Fat Chic fashion. I had one goal, I wanted to run my first 10k in under an hour. I had been working really hard on my pace time while jogging. It was a good way for me to up my intensity while running and gave me a goal to work towards. Smart things to do to keep yourself motivated, FYI. So, here I am in my compression leggings, long-sleeve 1/4 zip running shirt, snazzy headband, and matching shoes. I've got my flipbelt (fanny pack) on and my iPhone is loaded with racing tunes and my running app. I have my number pinned on, I've walked around a few laps and stretched my quads. I've sized up my competition (everyone is competition to me) and I'm ready to get this race started. The dude at the start line gives a little speech about how the course has changed, blah, blah, blah. This doesn't really apply to me since I haven't run it before, I don't know what the old course is. No worries. Ready. Set. Race!! I'm off like a shot and after the first two miles I am slightly giddy because my race day jitters have me running half a minute faster than I have been running at home. I should reach my goal no problem. I'm clipping right along, passing people, getting passed by a few others. I blow by the first aid station, settle into my pace and go by the second one too. I notice that the herd is thinning out. The first aid station was the turnoff for the 5k racers so in my mind I am wondering if some of the 10k crew has broke to a walk. I trudge on for another 3/4 of a mile before I start to realize that I might be running with the half-marathoners. I let a group of ladies catch up to me and they confirm my fears. I turn around and head back for the finish line that is now nearly and extra mile and half away. I pick up my pace in an effort to make up for my mistake. I finish the race in 1 hour and 4 minutes. I missed my mark by 4 freakin minutes. I could have cried. I didn't, but I could have. I took my medal and skeedaddled. I decided to laugh about it and chalk it up to my horrible sense of direction honestly inherited from my mother.
I managed to lose weight over the holidays. Try not to hate me. I was very diligent about my exercise. I did indulge in some holiday food, but I tried to keep my choices smart, my portions in check, and saved what I could for drinking with friends. I got an email the other day from my calorie tracker that I have lost 60 pounds since I started tracking with it again in June. Boom. I consider myself to have 20 pounds to go. It would put me at 170. For those of you that are bad at math, that means I weigh 190 right now. Now, don't get all up in arms that I have a scale goal. It is at the bottom of my goals right now. I am weighing every two weeks. Why? I got selected to be apart of a test group for Beach Body's new work out program, Hammer and Chisel. So, I have to check in with my stats on a regular basis. I am much more worried about a few other things. For instance... I have signed up for two half-marathons two weeks apart at the end of March, start of April. I am full swing training for it now. That in addition to the Hammer and Chisel is keeping me on my twinkle toes. I am also more worried about getting into my next set of jeans. Getting into the last set was very satisfying. It feels good to fit into cute jeans. Really good. But the next set is even cuter. I am in a weird place where I am looking pretty good, but in my mind I am still fat as a house. That is the ugly plight of being an eternal fat kid. There is never enough. I'll probably never see what other people see. But, maybe that is ok. If that keeps me driven, that is a good thing. If it sabotages me into thinking that my efforts are for no good reason, that is not ok. I am trying to stay focused on my exercise goals and let the rest fall into place.
This is a tough time of year for all of us. Most people are starting to fall off of their New Year's resolution goals. The newness and excitement of beginning a new journey is wearing off and the reality of the routine and dedication is settling in. Here is my motivation Monday thought for you, Don't stop. Keep trying to build your habits. It has been a little over a year for me since I headed down this path of getting myself right again. I am not where I want to be, but I am a hell of a lot further than I was a year ago. Here is some picture proof (unedited, unfiltered, unphotoshopped)... The first photo is a camping trip a couple of summers ago. I am the one in the pink sweatshirt and shorts (WTH fashion faux pas) at the front of the ATV. It isn't a picture of me a year ago, but it might as well be, I was the same size/weight as I was in this picture. The second picture is me two weeks ago. I am wearing a sassy dress that I bought in Las Vegas and didn't even try on, so this was the first time I had seen it on me. I took the picture so my girlfriend (from Canada) that was with me when I bought it could see. I am not usually one for selfies. I don't even know who the girl who is in the first picture. I know that she couldn't run eight miles straight, or do two unassisted pull-ups, or hold her head up when she walked into a room. So, remember, duration, consistency, and habits are what makes the difference. Not fads, fast results, or starvation/deprivation diets.
Keepin it real over here at the fat farm!!
Thursday, November 19, 2015
Ugly Honesty
I was going to call this post the "Ugly Truth" but I didn't want to infringe on any movie title copyrights. Besides, we are all about being honest here, right?
So, I try really hard not to dive off into a pity party if I can help it. But let's face, we all feel sorry for ourselves sometimes. I had a touch of that last weekend. I waited a few days to write this post to make sure that it was really what I wanted to put out there in the universe, and since it is still on my mind, and my heart, here it goes. I promise to continue to lace some humor throughout. I am laughing at myself, you guys should too. This will all tie in to weight loss, just bear with me.
Last weekend I went on a long weekend trip to stay in a cabin in central Oregon... Alone. But I wasn't supposed to be alone. Let me preface this whole thing by saying that I am absolutely sick and tired of being alone (insert:single). Confession... After I turned 35 this summer I broke down and signed up for eharmony. It has been the worst dating experiences of my life. Internet dating takes the human component out of meeting people and allows people to talk (type) to you without actually having to treat you like person. Repeatedly I have communicated with a guy, for several weeks even, and then one day they just never write again. I had one HORRIFIC date weekend where I flew up to meet a guy, basically got stood up at the airport for 7 hours, met him for a ridiculously late dinner, never heard from him the next, or the next day until 3 hours before my scheduled flight home. This weekend was not an eharmony guy. This was a guy that I knew when I lived in Oregon and have seen from time to time over the years. I invited him to the cabin for the weekend and he indicated that he was coming and was excited to come. Fast forward to me sitting in the cabin staring at two unreturned messages, realizing once again, that I had been stood up. Is this what dating in my 30's is all about, humility??? God bless all my friends because they are quick to tell me there is nothing wrong with me and that I am a great person. They also say that I should stay single as long as I can. Here is the thing about that... They are wrong. Being single has some perks, but at the end of the day, you know who I tell about my day? My dogs. Which I am starting to collect like a crazy cat lady. They listen, they love me, but they don't talk back. They don't hold my hand. They don't laugh. They don't tell me I'm right, wrong, or indifferent. Until you are spending the time in your life alone when you should be married and raising a family and watching everyone else in your life do exactly that, don't tell me I should stay alone. Its not always all it's cracked up to be.
Now, don't get me wrong, I didn't have an all bad weekend. I didn't even have a mostly bad weekend. I refused to. The weather was great. The scenery was beautiful. I got a lot of outside activities done. I even did an 8 mile run on Sunday, a distance PR for me. I couldn't help but think how cliche me running alone is. You know that scene in EVERY romantic drama and comedy where the single chic is running along the beach, or the river, or the whatever. I get why they run, its a solitary activity so it isn't weird for you to be doing it by yourself. I wanted to go watch the Ronda Rousey fight on Saturday night, but I couldn't think of anything worse than sitting in a bar eating dinner alone on my solitary weekend. It takes tough stuff to eat alone in a restaurant when you actually are alone. Tougher stuff than I have. I skipped the fight, got Mexican take out, and did my homework by the fire at the cabin.
My confidence in myself has gone up tenfold since I have begun this particular weight loss journey. I have accomplished a lot in the past year, not just physically, but in other areas of my life as well. I genuinely feel good about myself. But even the sanest, most well-loved, and emotionally strong person will have their boat rocked by rejection. Especially when it comes in the form of silence. There is that not knowing factor. I know to a certain degree that nothing bad happened to this guy. I have Facebook to thank for that. He still posted things all weekend. It was just me that he didn't even think enough of to tell me he wouldn't make it. I had given him outs prior to the weekend and could have even scheduled some photo shoots while I was over there. I put all that on hold because he said he was coming. What is it about me that makes people think that treating me like that is ok? That it won't affect me in the least? The worst part is having people ask about my weekend. What did you do? I tell them. How was the weather? Gorgeous, I say. Who did you go with? No one. And then it happens. The "Oh." This "Oh" is meant to be polite and enthusiastic. It slips from people's mouths before they think of something else to say. The tone of this "Oh" is dripping with pity and a hint of disbelief that I would travel alone, not to meet anyone, but to be alone. That "Oh" speaks volumes.
Weight loss tie-in. I would be lying through my teeth if I didn't tell you that a portion of my weight loss quest is a vain attempt at being more attractive to the opposite sex. People that are healthy and fit are people that have respect for themselves and that makes other people drawn to them in turn. I am not hanging my single hat on the fact that my hind end is getting smaller, but one would think it would help. That is a pretty superficial way to look at looking for a mate, but I feel like I have all the other parts figured out, so that must be it, I must be physically unattractive. I'm honestly not looking for any sympathy here. I gave myself enough of that last weekend. I just want anyone else out there in this same boat to know you aren't completely alone. I get it. I totally get it. But don't let it be something that sets you off your path to living a healthy lifestyle. It is about more than just being physically attractive. It is about being strong in mind and body. STRONG. I'm just about over this hump and over that guy. I'm just about over trying to figure out why. I am moving on. And heading down the road... In sneakers... And compression leggings... And sporting a fanny pack, I mean flipbelt.
So, I try really hard not to dive off into a pity party if I can help it. But let's face, we all feel sorry for ourselves sometimes. I had a touch of that last weekend. I waited a few days to write this post to make sure that it was really what I wanted to put out there in the universe, and since it is still on my mind, and my heart, here it goes. I promise to continue to lace some humor throughout. I am laughing at myself, you guys should too. This will all tie in to weight loss, just bear with me.
Last weekend I went on a long weekend trip to stay in a cabin in central Oregon... Alone. But I wasn't supposed to be alone. Let me preface this whole thing by saying that I am absolutely sick and tired of being alone (insert:single). Confession... After I turned 35 this summer I broke down and signed up for eharmony. It has been the worst dating experiences of my life. Internet dating takes the human component out of meeting people and allows people to talk (type) to you without actually having to treat you like person. Repeatedly I have communicated with a guy, for several weeks even, and then one day they just never write again. I had one HORRIFIC date weekend where I flew up to meet a guy, basically got stood up at the airport for 7 hours, met him for a ridiculously late dinner, never heard from him the next, or the next day until 3 hours before my scheduled flight home. This weekend was not an eharmony guy. This was a guy that I knew when I lived in Oregon and have seen from time to time over the years. I invited him to the cabin for the weekend and he indicated that he was coming and was excited to come. Fast forward to me sitting in the cabin staring at two unreturned messages, realizing once again, that I had been stood up. Is this what dating in my 30's is all about, humility??? God bless all my friends because they are quick to tell me there is nothing wrong with me and that I am a great person. They also say that I should stay single as long as I can. Here is the thing about that... They are wrong. Being single has some perks, but at the end of the day, you know who I tell about my day? My dogs. Which I am starting to collect like a crazy cat lady. They listen, they love me, but they don't talk back. They don't hold my hand. They don't laugh. They don't tell me I'm right, wrong, or indifferent. Until you are spending the time in your life alone when you should be married and raising a family and watching everyone else in your life do exactly that, don't tell me I should stay alone. Its not always all it's cracked up to be.
Now, don't get me wrong, I didn't have an all bad weekend. I didn't even have a mostly bad weekend. I refused to. The weather was great. The scenery was beautiful. I got a lot of outside activities done. I even did an 8 mile run on Sunday, a distance PR for me. I couldn't help but think how cliche me running alone is. You know that scene in EVERY romantic drama and comedy where the single chic is running along the beach, or the river, or the whatever. I get why they run, its a solitary activity so it isn't weird for you to be doing it by yourself. I wanted to go watch the Ronda Rousey fight on Saturday night, but I couldn't think of anything worse than sitting in a bar eating dinner alone on my solitary weekend. It takes tough stuff to eat alone in a restaurant when you actually are alone. Tougher stuff than I have. I skipped the fight, got Mexican take out, and did my homework by the fire at the cabin.
My confidence in myself has gone up tenfold since I have begun this particular weight loss journey. I have accomplished a lot in the past year, not just physically, but in other areas of my life as well. I genuinely feel good about myself. But even the sanest, most well-loved, and emotionally strong person will have their boat rocked by rejection. Especially when it comes in the form of silence. There is that not knowing factor. I know to a certain degree that nothing bad happened to this guy. I have Facebook to thank for that. He still posted things all weekend. It was just me that he didn't even think enough of to tell me he wouldn't make it. I had given him outs prior to the weekend and could have even scheduled some photo shoots while I was over there. I put all that on hold because he said he was coming. What is it about me that makes people think that treating me like that is ok? That it won't affect me in the least? The worst part is having people ask about my weekend. What did you do? I tell them. How was the weather? Gorgeous, I say. Who did you go with? No one. And then it happens. The "Oh." This "Oh" is meant to be polite and enthusiastic. It slips from people's mouths before they think of something else to say. The tone of this "Oh" is dripping with pity and a hint of disbelief that I would travel alone, not to meet anyone, but to be alone. That "Oh" speaks volumes.
Weight loss tie-in. I would be lying through my teeth if I didn't tell you that a portion of my weight loss quest is a vain attempt at being more attractive to the opposite sex. People that are healthy and fit are people that have respect for themselves and that makes other people drawn to them in turn. I am not hanging my single hat on the fact that my hind end is getting smaller, but one would think it would help. That is a pretty superficial way to look at looking for a mate, but I feel like I have all the other parts figured out, so that must be it, I must be physically unattractive. I'm honestly not looking for any sympathy here. I gave myself enough of that last weekend. I just want anyone else out there in this same boat to know you aren't completely alone. I get it. I totally get it. But don't let it be something that sets you off your path to living a healthy lifestyle. It is about more than just being physically attractive. It is about being strong in mind and body. STRONG. I'm just about over this hump and over that guy. I'm just about over trying to figure out why. I am moving on. And heading down the road... In sneakers... And compression leggings... And sporting a fanny pack, I mean flipbelt.
Thursday, November 5, 2015
The highs and lows of weight loss.
I am starting to think that this will never end. I have been fighting the weight demon for 35 years now. That is quite a career. It is a roller coaster of a ride that goes from emotional high to emotional low without much contentment in between.
Why so melancholy Funny Fat Chic?
A couple things have happened in the last week. I can do a happy dance because instead of my sizes having multiple Xs in front of them, some, if not all are just a good 'ole plain L. That is kinda cool. I have some cute clothes that I bought the last time I lost weight but I ballooned back up before I fit into them that I can now wear. VICTORY! A short-lived one though.
I have a vacation planned in December. It is a bucket list trip and I could not be more excited about it. Where I'm going, the people I'm going with, it could not be planned more perfectly. I tried on jeans this week. Jeans that I just knew I could get into before this trip. Here I am 30 days out and they absolutely DO NOT fit. No ifs ands or buts about it. <Insert sigh of defeat> Why on God's green earth after all this time, all this work, and all that I have accomplished do I still let myself be defined by the size of my pants?????? But I do. I took the pile of jeans out of the storage tub that they were in and put them in my room on a bench at the foot of my bed so that they would be the last thing I see at night and the first thing I see in the morning. A big 'ole pile of shame. I'm sure that will be effective (she says dripping with sarcasm). It is like I feel the need to punish myself for not getting there in time.
Here is the take away from this. We (or at least I) do not have full control of my body. Even though I have set a goal, maybe an unrealistic one, that doesn't mean that my body has the same plan. I'm not as young as I used to be so weight loss is a little slower process. I refuse to take any weight loss supplements because I know that their effects are not lasting or healthy. I also refuse to starve myself this time. I am eating an appropriate amount of calories in the form of clean, whole foods that nourish me and support my current activities. So, I am going to run 7.5 miles today. I am going to lift weights. I am going to stay consistent and strong through the holidays. I am not going to let that pile of jeans depress me into eating badly and giving up. I like the feeling of accomplishment I am getting by reaching fitness goals, even if my pants size isn't willing to be a reward for me. Highs to lows, contentment must be in there somewhere.
Why so melancholy Funny Fat Chic?
A couple things have happened in the last week. I can do a happy dance because instead of my sizes having multiple Xs in front of them, some, if not all are just a good 'ole plain L. That is kinda cool. I have some cute clothes that I bought the last time I lost weight but I ballooned back up before I fit into them that I can now wear. VICTORY! A short-lived one though.
I have a vacation planned in December. It is a bucket list trip and I could not be more excited about it. Where I'm going, the people I'm going with, it could not be planned more perfectly. I tried on jeans this week. Jeans that I just knew I could get into before this trip. Here I am 30 days out and they absolutely DO NOT fit. No ifs ands or buts about it. <Insert sigh of defeat> Why on God's green earth after all this time, all this work, and all that I have accomplished do I still let myself be defined by the size of my pants?????? But I do. I took the pile of jeans out of the storage tub that they were in and put them in my room on a bench at the foot of my bed so that they would be the last thing I see at night and the first thing I see in the morning. A big 'ole pile of shame. I'm sure that will be effective (she says dripping with sarcasm). It is like I feel the need to punish myself for not getting there in time.
Here is the take away from this. We (or at least I) do not have full control of my body. Even though I have set a goal, maybe an unrealistic one, that doesn't mean that my body has the same plan. I'm not as young as I used to be so weight loss is a little slower process. I refuse to take any weight loss supplements because I know that their effects are not lasting or healthy. I also refuse to starve myself this time. I am eating an appropriate amount of calories in the form of clean, whole foods that nourish me and support my current activities. So, I am going to run 7.5 miles today. I am going to lift weights. I am going to stay consistent and strong through the holidays. I am not going to let that pile of jeans depress me into eating badly and giving up. I like the feeling of accomplishment I am getting by reaching fitness goals, even if my pants size isn't willing to be a reward for me. Highs to lows, contentment must be in there somewhere.
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