It's Only A Half Marathon

It has been an interesting 18 months to say the least. So far in my posts, I have gone over my motivation to lose weight, and some of the steps I took to get started. That was the hardest part for sure, I think, just getting started.  Like I mentioned previously, I managed to put it off for a long time, I am something of a professional procrastinator in all areas of my life, but this one was particularly difficult to break through.  So when I did manage to find something of a "plan", i.e., reduced food intake combined with activity and exercise, the next obstacle I had to overcome was my tendency towards complacency. I had to make sure that I stuck with the plan and didn't lose momentum and slip back into my old habits.  Because 25 years of bad habits don't just go away, no matter how successful you are at breaking them.

My first few months went well, I was actually surprised at how well I was doing.  I had failed at the attempt to gain control of my eating habits so many times, that I always had a fear in the back of my mind that somehow I would slip back into my old ways and lose all the progress I'd made. It had happened multiple times in my life, actually.  For example, when I first moved to Long Beach, I joined a gym, saw a personal trainer and got some advice about fitness and weight training. I went regularly for about a year, lost some weight, and felt good about myself.  When I had to move across town, I quit the gym, didn't join a new one, and gained the weight back.  Then, about 6 years ago, when pregnant with my daughter, I developed gestational diabetes.  The doctor put me on a strict diet to control my blood sugar, the diet also happened to involve a lot less food than I normally ate, so I ended up losing nearly 50 lbs by the time she was born. 50 lbs! That's huge! I felt like I had a new chance at life. But as the months passed, I somehow lost the motivation to keep eating right. I went back to my old habits and over a period of 4 years, put back nearly every one of that 50 lbs that I had lost.  Now that is pretty devastating, to say the least.  I did double time in convincing myself I hadn't gained "too much" weight. Before I got pregnant, I was a size 30, and went down to a 26 after I lost that weight. Then, even as I gained the weight back, I managed to keep stuffing myself into those size 26 jeans, and stretched out my shirts so that they would still fit. So I could tell myself that I wasn't really getting bigger. But the scale doesn't lie...

So over the past year or so, as I was on my way to losing weight again, that was always in the back of my mind, the knowledge that I might slip. But something was different than in all my previous attempts. I can't really put my finger on it, but I think it just boils down to being tired of failure. Each day that passed that was another success just fueled my fire to keep going, to not look back at how I failed in the past, but to look forward at what might be possible.  So I kept going.  I think the key for me was taking things slow and steady.  Like I said before, I set small goals, and once I met them, made more small goals, and so on. It might seem like that's not an effective approach. But, the funny thing about small goals and accomplishments is that the more time passes, the more the results add up.

I remember the first day I went for a walk. I went to the beach at Belmont Shore, on the east side of town. I got down to the water's edge, looked at my clock, turned on my music, and just went. My goal was to keep moving for one hour. And I did. The next time, I went to the same beach, walked the same amount of time. And I went further than the first time. The third time I went I actually made it to the San Gabriel River. That became my first route. I think it was just short of three miles, and I did it over and over and over, 3-4 times a week, for months. After a few months of beach walks I started mapping out some routes around my neighborhood. I used Google Maps to estimate distances and went from my front door, just walking the sidewalks in my neighborhood. About 4 months into this, I was up to walking 5 days a week, both at the beach and near my home. I began to track my times, noting that I was getting faster and faster, and kept working to increase my speed. I added difficulty, by incorporating a route with a hill so steep, I got winded just driving up it. That was Signal Hill. It is about 4 miles from my front door to the top of Signal Hill. The first time I did it, I had to stop several times, and when I reached the top, I called my husband to come and get me. But I made it. 

When I was first starting my walks, I tried to jog. I made it about 100 yards before I had to stop, literally. I couldn't breathe, I was gasping like a fish out of water. But just a month or so later, I discovered I could jog about half a block before things started to go black. Then, a whole block. Then, a whole song. I could jog three whole minutes before I had to walk again. I added distance to all my routes. 4 miles, 5 miles....6 miles! Wow! I couldn't believe it! Gradually, slowly, day by day. I did my Signal Hill route once a week, and then one day, instead of calling my other half from Hilltop Park to come get me, I walked back home. 8 whole miles, with that monster hill to boot!  Wooooot!  In October, 10 months into this, I ran my second 5k race. And I literally ran it. About half of it. In November, I did my first 10k, a Thanksgiving Day Turkey Trot. I ran the first mile and walked the last 5. 

Then I set my sights on the unthinkable: A half marathon. That's 13.1 miles, y'all. And it wasn't just one half marathon, but three. The Beach Cities Challenge. I have a co-worker named George, he's this skinny little Filipino guy who runs marathons. The old me would tease him about being a crazy runner, but during this transition time he has been a great help to me, offering advice and encouragement. So one day Georgie told me he was going to complete this Beach Cities Challenge, which was the consecutive completion of three races: Long Beach Marathon, Surf City Marathon, and OC Marathon. But the half marathon races also qualify for the challenge. For some reason, the thought of this just seized me and I couldn't get it out of my head. So around December I thought I would shoot for the the OC half in May to start my challenge. I went to El Dorado Park on the east side of town to train, and began to add more miles. I got up to 10 miles walking, and felt like I could do anything. I did the 10 miles a few more times as the weeks passed, and one day, as I finished mile 5 out of 10, I decided to start jogging just to see how long I could jog. I jogged the entire second half of that 10 mile distance. Forget starting my challenge in May, I registered for the Surf City half marathon in February! George and I went together to race that day, he ran the full marathon and I did the half, running 9 miles out of the 13.1, finishing in 3 hours and 9 minutes. Then we had to call AAA because I left the lights on in George's car and the battery died. But that's a story for another day.

Since completeing my first half marathon, running has become like breathing to me. I've reduced my runs to 3 days a week, but with longer distances. It frees me, strengthens me, calms me. If I go too long without it, I feel like I am missing something. I continue training because I still have more races coming up, but also because I love it! I added an app to my phone that uses GPS to measure distance, speed, even calories burned. It has been an indispensable tool to my success, helping me train by keeping track of my pace, so I know if I'm on track or need to step things up a bit.  In May I did the OC half, I ran the entire distance and finished it in 2 hours and 46 minutes. In October I will run the Long Beach half marathon, and complete my Beach Cities Challenge. This will be a huge day for me, completing a goal I set for myself back when I was still barely getting started. I'll get a big, gaudy medal to add to my growing collection. I'll only wear it once, but treasure it forever because it won't just represent miles, but the difference between the girl who got winded jogging 100 yards, and the girl who runs half marathons. And who knows what's next? After all, I've got to keep reaching for something. As long as I keep reaching, I keep my determination to keep doing what I'm doing. Could that full marathon be in my future? It is a huge leap, a huge concept. And yet, the fact that I'm even considering it is a big step for me, because it means I've stopped beating myself up over my past failures, and given myself permission to believe I can do the things I thought were impossible just a short time ago. And that is the best reward of all.