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.

Getting Started: Go For A Walk

Wow! Can't believe I'm already on post #3. These things I'm writing about have been bouncing around in the back of my mind for so long that it feels amazing to put them down on virtual paper. I hope that virtual people aren't the only ones reading...

In my last post, I talked about my struggles with food and dealing with my calorie and nutrition intake, and how I got started getting it under control. Continuing on with that thread, today I am going to focus on the the flip side of the coin: activity and exercise. As I was able to work on controlling my eating habits, I knew I needed to get out and start exercising. But it's not easy to start an exercise and fitness routine, especially when you weigh more than 300 lbs and you get winded climbing a single flight of stairs. Thing is, I'm the kind of person who has no problem sticking to an established routine. It's the getting started part that I have trouble with. So when I wanted to started exercising, I was game for the challenge, but didn't know how to go about it. I knew I was physically limited, and that I would have to start off slow. Luckily, there are plenty of opportunities available to me and it wasn't long before the perfect solution fell in my lap.

I got the starting point I needed in an email from HR, inviting all employees to join a team to do a 5k race in nearby Seal Beach. The kicker? I could walk it. Hmmmm. 5k? How far is that? It turns out that it's only 3.1 miles. I figured I could handle that. So I signed up and began going for walks. I considered it training. I didn't want to show up unprepared on the day of the race, pass out, and be hauled off on a stretcher. So three or four days a week,  I drove down to Belmont Shore, and walked on the beach for an hour at a time. To pass the time, I listened to music, took pictures with my Blackberry, posted them on Facebook while I walked, and realized I had actually found a way to enjoy being outside in the city. After 6 weeks passed I did the race, I finished in about 51 minutes, and as I crossed my first finish line I realized I'd found something good. After the race, I kept walking, keeping track of my pace, distance, and noting that the more I did it, the faster and farther I could go. I began to set goals, and each time I reached the goal, I set a new one. And I'm still doing it even now.

So you see, for me it was very simple. It wasn't a matter of going straight from the couch to running marathons. Or even half marathons. It was just starting at the beginning and working my way up. If you are like me, and looking for a way to get started, don't think big, think small.  Just go out and walk for an hour. Walk for a half hour. Walk down the block and back if that's all you can do. Then the next time, go just a little further. Or, ride a bike, swim in a pool, paddle a kayak. I can recommend a good guy in Huntington Harbor. Do Zumba, lift weights, or get on that silly elliptical. I can't stand the thing, but I people I love swear by them. You know who you are. Try different things until you find what you love, then stick to it. It doesn't matter what you do, as long as you are moving. Set your goals, get out and work for them, and once you reach them, set new ones. You'll be on the way to the new you in no time at all. I promise. Because I did it. If I could do it, anyone can do it. And yes, that means you, too.

Starting At The Beginning

Well. When I was writing my first post the other day, I was thinking that few would actually read it, that maybe I'd get a couple responses eventually, but didn't expect the reaction that I got. I was surprised and encouraged by the positive response that I did get, so now as I begin the next post, I am both excited and a little nervous. I've been trying to collect my thoughts and put them in order, I have so many things I want to write about and now that I know people might actually read it, I have to do them justice. So here we go...

I thought I'd start off by touching on the reason for the name of this blog. My first idea for a name was "A Work In Progress", but I thought maybe that might be too generic. I wanted something that would convey the emotion I've been feeling throughout this entire life-changing process. It occurred to me that all my life I had an ideal of myself in regards to personal appearance, kind of a physical "alter ego", as it were. As I mentioned in my previous post, I wanted to look like "normal" people. I didn't want to look like a Victoria's Secret model, I just wanted to see my physical self the way it should be, without weird shapes or bulges that had to be covered with baggy outfits. Over the past year, as I lost weight, I realized that that "alter ego" has become a reality. Not only physically, but mentally, as I've gained a great deal of confidence, and learned a lot about healthy living, being active, and how to find what works best for me, in the world of fitness as well as everyday life. Long story short, I'm living the dream! I am my alter ego. Woo hoo!

Now, on to the main topic. Many people have asked me about my experience this past year, and one question I get a lot is, how and why did you start? So this is what I am going to discuss today. After my "aha" moment, which as you may recall, involved really bright lights and a really big mirror, I knew I needed to take a good look at my habits, and identify what I needed to work on. Well, duh, right? Real plain and simple. And yet, it took many years for me to even reach that point. Oh well, better late than never, I suppose. So, what it really came down to was simple math.  If more calories go in than are burned, then the body retains them. Again, very plain and simple. So how did I manage to overlook this very logical reality? Well, first of all, I love food. I make no excuses for that. I love the color, the smell, the texture, and of course the taste. I'll eat almost anything, there is very little that I don't like. Except bell peppers. Nasty, foul little things. But I digress... So, when it came to food, I made a life out of finding creative ways to justify eating to excess. It's kind of like when we joke, "oh, birthday calories don't count", except I did this nearly every day and at nearly every meal. Whatever the meal, whether there was an occasion or not, if there was enough food available, I loaded my plate to overflowing, finished it, and more often than not, went back and loaded it again. As I did that, I would tell myself it was ok, because "hey, this might not be available again", or "wow, it's something I really like, I should just enjoy it and not feel guilty". And the biggest, most insidious excuse? This one: "I will start eating right TOMORROW". Yep. I tricked myself again and again and again and again and, well, you get the idea. I planned to start eating right tomorrow for a long time. About 25 years to be exact. I could go through the rest of my life regretting those 25 years except for one thing. I broke the cycle, and for me, there really is no looking back.

So what did I do exactly to break that cycle? Back again to the plain and simple. I started off by setting simple goals and making small changes. As soon as I made those goals and mastered those changes, I made new ones. First it was simply reducing portions. One plate, no seconds. Then it was changing what was on that plate. Less fat, less sugar, more lean protein, more veggies and fruits, more whole grains. Back to basics. And you know what? It worked! I started to lose weight almost immediately. And the really funny thing? Suddenly, many of the foods that I thought I couldn't resist weren't quite so tempting any more. I got more satisfaction out of watching the number on the scale fall than I did eating those fattening things. Little by little, day by day, they lost their grip on me.

So we come to where I am now. I eat a reasonably healthy diet overall, but I will always love food and allow myself to enjoy it, whether it's my regular routine ultra healthy salad of leaves and twigs, or a deliciously decadent, greasy spread on the rare occasion. Today when I go to a friend's party, I'm gonna eat lechon and lumpia and pancit and those fried banana thingies that I can't remember the name of. And tomorrow we are gonna BBQ in the back yard after church, while we enjoy our local version of fresh air. And next week, it's back to leaves and twigs. Because when it comes down to it that's how it's done.
I hope you enjoyed today's post. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to put it down in writing, get it out of my head, and let it breathe.

Until Next Time!

All About Me...

So this is my very first blog post ever. It's going to be totally lame because I haven't figured out how to do all the cutesy stuff yet, like add pictures or fancy backgrounds and such. I am also exhausted because I've run 18 miles in the past three days, 10 of them this morning, and right now everything in my brain is kind of mushy and all I can muster is bluh.

The reason I decided to do this is mostly because over the past 18 months I have been on an epic journey to better myself through improving my health. As of late, a lot of people in my life have been asking me, "how did you do it?", and I'm hoping that writing this in exhausting detail will answer those questions. Also, I like to write, and I hope that if people are actually reading this, from time to time they will be able to put up with random streams of consciousness about nothing in particular that I need to put in writing. My Facebook friends know what I'm talking about.

To start at the beginning, for the vast majority of my life, I was really really fat, and one fateful day 18 months ago, I realized that I needed to do something about it or suffer the consequences. What would those be, you ask? The most well publicized of course, are high risk for heart disease and diabetes and other really bad health things that make you dead before you want to be. But personally, it was the "little things", like knowing that every time I went to a restaurant I was going to have to ask for a table with chairs because I couldn't squeeze my giant ass into a booth, or hoping when I went to the movies that it wouldn't be the old fashioned bucket seats because I would again have issues squeezing in the aforementioned giant ass. It was not being able to go on roller coasters because the bar wouldn't go down over my gut. It was asking for a "seat belt extender" on airplanes. It was getting winded going up a flight of stairs. It was going to the "plus size" store and grabbing stuff off the rack, never trying anything on because it was just going to look like a Hefty bag anyway. I could go on and on, but I'm starting to get depressed.

Many of us go through life wishing we could be better than we are. I always wanted to be fit. Not thin. Not skinny. Just "normal". You see, from the age of 12 I was heavy. First pudgy, then chubby, then just plain fat. But, knowing it would take a lot of work and discipline to become my ideal, I told myself for many years that it was impossible, that I had too much going against me, that I was destined to always be fat. I deluded myself by deciding I was doing all right the way I was and didn't need to lose weight. Even as I got bigger and bigger, I found ways to look in the mirror and be satisfied that I "wasn't really that bad". I was able to mask a large host of flaws until one fateful encounter with a full length hotel bathroom mirror and really bright florescent lights. It was one of those experiences where there is nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, no hiding from the truth. I was nasty to look at as well as feeling nasty because of my physical limitations.

From that moment on, for the first time in my life, I didn't run and hide from the truth. I faced it head on. I took the bull by the horns and attacked it. And at first it fought back with all its strength. But so did I. And the harder I fought, the easier it got to beat it. I won't go into detail in this first post, because I will do that over the course of many posts. Also because I'm really tired, irritated and my kid is hungry. Long story short, over the past 18 months I've lost 100 lbs, started an excellent fitness routine and completely revised my relationship with food. Please read the posts to come in the next few days/weeks/whenever I get a chance, I will go into more detail and hopefully be able to help people who are just like me, who know they can be better and just need a kick start and a little encouragement to get on their way.