OMG another blog post! There were like six months between the last two posts, and now here's another one within a month. I'm trying to rev this up again, I really love to write but often have trouble finding time. But I have lots of stuff I want to get out of my brain and unload onto all of you so thank you for being my somewhat willing audience. I hope my brain droppings continue to amuse and inform you.
So, as you guys know, I've been at this crazy running thing for awhile now. I enjoy doing it, I do a lot of it, and I track what I do. That creates a lot of data. For example, I track my distance. How far I run each time out, plus how much cumulatively in a week, month, year, and so on. I track my time and pace, and other little bits and pieces that probably don't seem like much on a daily scale, but look pretty impressive when combined in graphs and charts and stuff over a long period of time. Originally, I used a cool phone app to track my running stats, but unfortunately, cell phone GPS is still pretty much in the dark ages, despite the prevalence of so many of us hopefully relying on the things to tell us where we are and where we should go and so on. So as most of you have seen, I got myself a Garmin.
Now, for most, that is a meaningless term, I suppose. So, just to clarify, Garmin is a company that specializes in manufacturing GPS enabled technology. For distance sport enthusiasts like runners and bicyclists and the like, they make an assortment of dohickeys that track distance using GPS. Most of these devices are really ugly watches. Now, I might not be the most girly of girls, but I don't particularly like having a big boxy thing squatting on my wrist. So for the most part, though it is very functional as just a plain ol' watch with time and date and stuff like that, it stays in the corner of my room most of the time that I am not running. But when I get ready to run, the Garmin watch takes its place on me along with my ugly cell phone armband holder, my ugly running supply belt and the generally ugly spandex contraptions I squeeze myself into. I'm pretty much one big ball of ugly with all my gear on, but I don't care because when I head out, I know I'll be out running alongside a whole bunch of other people dressed in pretty much the same ugly outfit. It's almost like there's a uniform we all wear, minus the name tags. But that's a blog post for another day.
So since I've got all these devices that have been tracking my stats, all that info has got to go somewhere. Both the phone app I used, as well as the watch, have websites that collect, store and sort all the info. This storing and sorting of info is nothing new for runners. Just the format has changed. In the old days, runners had to map out their runs beforehand with actual paper maps, or by using their car odometers, though that option was kind of dicey if they wanted to run on trails or bike paths. I suppose there were ways they connected with each other to share and trade info about routes, but I'm too lazy to Google any of that. Running clubs come to mind. After plotting out a running course, they would track their times and write the results in log books or journals. I've seen some people that still do this post pictures of them on various social media, and I think to myself, how quaint. Because the internet does all that now. I suppose I might come off as a snob by preferring electronic tracking than paper journaling, but it all comes down to one thing I've already touched on. I'm lazy. I figure, if somebody went to all the trouble to write a bunch of code that would make my running stats look cool and official, I should enjoy the fruit of their labor and put it to good use.
That being said, now what? I've got this info all collected and organized and it looks real nifty, but I'm the only one looking at it. What am I supposed to do with it? Now, I suppose that runners who journal on paper and don't use the internet bring those journals and share them with fellow runners that they know. "Hey, check out this PR I got for my run last week! I did awesome!" And the fellow runner would be like "Hey, that's really great, good job, keep up the good work!" Please note this is not the transcript of an actual conversation, it's only conjecture of what I imagine non internet-using runners to be doing with their info. Again, I'm too lazy to Google if it's actually true. My point is, we no longer share information that way. As we all know by now, the internet has created a completely new platform that we humans can use to share our information. Of course, that is social media.
I'm sure that previous statement elicited more than a couple eye rolls from my approximately 12 faithful readers. "Well, duh". But think about it. Most of us now have joined at least one or more social media platforms. We have access to them via our computers and now handheld devices that we drag around with us everywhere we go. We connect with people we know in real life (like on Facebook), or make new friends and find ways to connect with people who have similar interests (Instagram, Twitter, Pinterest, etc.). We learn about our friends and connections through their posts, and they in turn learn about us the same way.
So, most social media users both consume and supply info in the continuously moving stream that is our news feed. We like to read what other people are doing, and we like to share what we are doing. But as we add more followers/friends, we discover that there are people out there that maybe don't share the same interests we have. *Gasp* Each of us has particular interests, those things that are interesting, fascinating, engaging, and exciting to us. We enjoy them so much that want to share with our ever-growing circle of friends, thinking that they are going to jump up and down and clap with joy since that's what we think they should do. So we post our posts, and are surprised when the reaction seems like the sound of crickets chirping. Wait, what? That sandwich I had for lunch was so delicious! How come nobody is liking my picture! And my 20th post this week about my adorable kids? Only 10 likes? What gives? They are ADORABLE! (BTW I'm totally guilty about the adorable kids posts, so don't think I'm calling anyone else out). And not to mention the Gloomy Gus posts. I'm also guilty of this, you guys. OMG, how come nobody is commiserating with me on my 2nd week of allergies and runny nose! Only three people commented to cheer me up, and one of them was my mom, who is required by law to comment positively on every one of my posts! (Love you Mom, keep commenting or I'll come to your house and start eating all your food again). And so it goes.
My dilemma is that my social media affiliations have given me the perfect platform to share all this running info that I regularly generate and want everyone to see because it's Just. So. Exciting. So I share and share and share, and share some more. At first it went really well. When I first started walking, I had a cell phone with a decent camera and FB access. So I created an album on FB called "going for a walk", and every time I went for a walk, I took a picture and posted it with comments about how my walk went. At first everyone commented how great it was and encouraged me to keep going, and it really helped me get through the first part of this journey, which was the hardest. Without my phone dinging at me on a regular basis to tell me I had another comment, I probably would have given up like I had always done before. But hearing all those nice comments made me feel good and want to keep going, so I wouldn't let my "fan base" down.
It was like that for a while, then the comments and likes dwindled. There have been some who were faithful at the beginning and still are to like my posts and chime in with encouraging words. (Love you, Mom! I could totally go for some Bodie fries right now.) And I've reconnected with more folks since then and made new friends along the way who pop up on a regular basis when I post. But mostly, the interest in my activity has waned. That hasn't discouraged me from posting. When I transitioned from only posting photos from my runs to adding stats, there was noticeable drop in interest in my running. I began to think, am I really that boring? Or am I just pissing people off by bragging too much about my accomplishments? Because "fat girl goes for a walk on the beach and loses weight in an effort to better her life" is a lot more interesting and inspiring than "girl who is fit enough to already finish a marathon is training for another marathon and ran 20 miles today." I totally get that. And yet, I still share.
The bottom line of this post (and thank you to everyone who read all of the paragraphs above to get to this point, you deserve a medal for that alone) is that I hope I'm not offending anyone by my multiple posts about my running. My maps, my stats, my PR's, my distances, my pace, my splits and all that stuff. I suppose I should do a post to explain what all that means. I've been buried in the world of running so long that I realize I might use terms that maybe are meaningless to everyone else. But the point is that I share because, like I said earlier, this is something that excites and engages me. My posts are not intended to make people think "Oh look how great MaryAnne is, running all those miles." They are intended to remind everyone of who I used to be and how far I've come. It's been three years now since I got up off the couch and started taking steps to change my life, and what an amazing three years it has been! Every mile I run puts another nail in the coffin of my old lazy, defeated life. Last year alone I put over 1,000 nails in that coffin, and I'm on my way to doing that again this year, and more.
So, if you are connected with me via any of my favorite social media, don't be looking for those posts to disappear any time soon. I have goals I've set for the coming weeks, months, and year, and each victory along the way will elicit some kind of post, whether it's "OMG, I finished another freaking marathon today!" (look for that one in about 6 weeks, you guys), or "I ran six miles and enjoyed the sunshine today." They are coming, I cannot stop and will not stop them. It's no longer about likes and comments (though those are ALWAYS welcome. And Mom, now I want some pie). It's about me wanting to share the joy of the experience of reaching new goals both big and small, and hoping to influence even one person to try and go for their dreams too, not only specifically with running, but with anything that they have in their heart that they want to accomplish. And if you want to take up running, I say go for it! Just make sure you send me a message beforehand and let me know, so I can tell you where to buy the ugly uniform. Because it's required.
Thanks again for reading, all!
Until Next Time
-MaryAnne
Saturday, January 25, 2014
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
Confessions Of A Race Bling Addict
So here I am looking at the past three years of my life, still with a sense of awe at all that has happened. I can't believe it's already been three years, I still feel like it all began yesterday!
As usual, what I have on my mind right now is running. I suppose this topic might be worn out by now, but I hope my 12 faithful readers can bear with me as I throw out more musings regarding this crazy activity that I love. So here goes.
As I enter this year I am looking back at the progression of the last three years of my life. The first year of what I often refer to as my fitness journey was the beginner year. I made the most significant progress in that first year, I went from a couch potato to an active person. I did participate in a few small road races, each time as part of a group from work, but mostly I just got out there and walked, hour after hour, 3-4 days a week. I didn't track mileage at that time because I was just doing it to lose weight. Then a funny thing happened. I got an Android smart phone, and was futzing with it one day and discovered a GPS app that was designed to track mileage. I was completely unaware that such a thing existed, let alone that I should use one. But being curious, I entered my info, went out for a walk, pushed the start button on the thing, and from that day on I never looked back.
For the first time, other than the races I had done, I had an idea of how far I was actually going each time I got out there. Those numbers really excited me, seeing that little glowing screen with a real number on it lit a fire under me. Soon I was tracking every walk, and as I progressed from walking to running, I set goals to increase mileage and began to really feel amazed at the numbers I saw. It pushed me forward to keep going, to see how much farther I could go and how fast I could do it. At that point I began to think that more difficult race distances were within my reach. I kept at it, getting in the miles and continuing to re-evaluate the idea of what was possible for me to accomplish.
As I entered year two of my journey, I was preparing for the longest distance I'd ever done: a half marathon. I had finished my first 10k race in November, walking most of the way, and I'd been so proud that I could run the entire last mile of the race. Now I began to run more and walk less, and as I added miles to my runs, my faithful GPS friend cheered me on every mile, telling me how fast I'd gone and how far. By the end of January I completed my first 12 miler, then a few short weeks later I finished the half marathon. I ran a lot of it, walked about 1/3 of the total distance of the race, and I finished more than 20 minutes faster than I thought I could. It was an amazing feeling, I felt like I had joined some exclusive club that I had always thought only belonged to the super fit and super crazy. As I crossed the finish line, a complete stranger handed me a ribbon with a little piece of metal on it. It had the race logo, the distance and the date on it. And it was mine. My first half marathon race medal.
Though I had previously done several short races, I'd only gotten one medal up until then. It was in the shape of the Bubba Gump shrimp because they had sponsored the race. Pure product placement. I hadn't thought much of it, but now as I hung medal number two on my bulletin board I could see a pattern forming. I thought that they looked kind of lonely, just the two of them there. And that's when it happened. I started to become addicted to racing and collecting race bling. I immediately signed up for two more half marathons at that point, because I was fired up from the first one, but specifically because the combination of those particular races netted the finisher an extra medal for finishing the "challenge" of completing all three races. I ran the second half marathon a few months after the first, running the entire thing without walking. I ran the third half marathon 5 months after that, with a time half an hour faster than the first one I had done. That was an awesome achievement for me, but I remember the most exciting part for me was going to the tent to pick up my challenge medal after receiving my race medal at the finish line. I walked around that day with not one, but two big hunks of metal around my neck. They were heavy and clanked together obnoxiously, but I loved it. I went home and added them to my bulletin board, photographed them from every angle and plastered the photos all over Facebook. Then I sat back, and thought, "what's next?" There were many races coming up in my region and I wanted to do them all! Pretty soon I was registered for 4 more races all taking place within 4 months of each other. Sounds like a tall order, but I felt invincible and felt confident I could take them all on.
And then it was year three. A year ago at this time I had already completed the first race of the year, with three to go. I still looked at the medals I had on my wall but kept thinking about the ones I didn't have yet. I trained and trained and racked up miles, but my mind was on all the races coming up. By this time last year I was fully entrenched in training for my first full marathon. I was stressed from the requirement of the training, but I kept thinking how my "collection" would finally be complete with a medal that had "Marathon" on it. I went to the starting line that day, and finished a distance of 26.2 miles. And just like the year before, I received a pretty ribbon with a pretty piece of metal on it. Over the next few months I ran all the races I'd signed up for, collected my bling, and had to find a new way to display the medals because they were too heavy for the cork board I'd been using. It was a wonderful feeling to see the "evidence" of all the hard work I'd done. And yet the funny thing was, that no matter how great an achievement it was, I was totally burned out.
I started to think about the races I'd run. I had achieved a PR at nearly all of them, but I was still falling short of my ultimate goals. How could that be with all the running I was doing? I realized that I had been focused so much on racing that I hadn't had time for proper training. That is, a set routine of different routes and speeds, over a long period of time. Each race required a lot of effort and time in and of itself, as well as weeks of resting during tapering before and recovery after each race. I wasn't giving myself enough time in between to regroup and spend time focusing on just getting in the miles. I had a wall full of bling but was still short of the rewards I really wanted. So I took some time off from races and went back to running just for the sake of running.
5 months and a vacation in Hawaii passed before my next race. I spent that time running a regular routine which included runs of distances between 4 and 10 miles 2-4 times during the week, with long runs on Saturdays of 14-18 miles. I racked up miles and without upcoming races on my mind I found myself focusing on each run, to seeing what I could pull off on my own, without official timers and bling at the end. In October I ran my seventh half marathon race and finally pulled off a significant time goal that I'd been reaching for since the first race of the year: to run that distance in less than 2 1/2 hours. I did that, and 4 minutes under my goal, I was super excited with those results. As I added my new medal to the collection, I didn't really think about it, I was more excited about my time. I didn't run another race after that in 2013, though there were many that I would have loved to have run, timing and finances weren't right for it, so I just enjoyed being out there and getting in the miles.
That's not to say I'm giving up on the thrill of racing. I love racing, even though there's not a chance I'll ever win one of the silly things. It's basically the environment involved. Sure, I can go run for free any day of the week in lots of scenic places and share smiles with people in similar silly outfits like mine. But race day is like prom for runners. You go get your outfit (packet), you dress up, prepare yourself, and show up whether you have a date or not because you know it's going to be an event to remember. Everyone at a race has the same goal, whether they are in the first corral or the last corral. To finish the distance in the best possible time, and to share the same experience with hundreds or even thousands of others as crazy as them. There are smiles and high fives and bonding between complete strangers because we all know what it took to get to that starting line, and what it will take to finish. I've received compliments and encouragement countless times in races from people I've never met, and even made a new running BFF at one race, after striking up a conversation in the most random of circumstances.
As year 4 of my journey begins, I am back in race prep mode. I just ran my first half marathon of the year, and next up will be full marathon #2 in March. Another half marathon will be in April. After that, who knows? I already have "must have" races planned for the next year and a half, but I no longer have the desire to register for every single race I see advertised. I have specific goals to meet for each race, and specific training routines I set to meet those goals. As I go through my training, I can laugh at myself that I get so excited about getting a medal for running 13.1 miles, when I reasonably easily complete distances much further than that on a regular basis, with no medals or t-shirts to show for it. I still have my trusty GPS app, and have just upgraded to my first GPS tracking watch, which supposedly will provide even more accurate results to guide me in tracking my training progress.
As I look back on the last three years, as I previously mentioned, I am in awe of the progress I've made. I laugh at myself because regardless of the changes I've made on the outside, my addictive personality is still firmly intact. It's just that the addictions have changed. Whereas I once previously was addicted to collecting things that kept me sitting around in the house (I don't want to think how much I spent on DVD's in those days), now I'm addicted to things that contribute to my personal well being and health. Yeah, maybe collecting all those race medals might seem silly to non-runners, but for me they will always represent the difference between the old me and the new me. My goal now is simply to scale the addiction back enough that I can enjoy the rewards without wearing myself and my bank account out getting them. Those registration fees ain't cheap...
Anyway, I'm still learning balance, it's taking time for sure, but I'm closer to reaching it than ever before.
And now here's a photo of my race bling so far. You didn't think I'd write all this nonsense and not show you the bling! This is every piece of race bling I've collected since I've begun running races. These medals include 3 5k's, a virtual half marathon, 8 half marathon races, the Beach Cities Challenge medal, and 1 full marathon. And counting...
As usual, thank you for reading my brain droppings. I appreciate any comments (nice ones anyway, LOL), and feel free to share if you think your friends could stand me.
Until next time....
-MaryAnne
As usual, what I have on my mind right now is running. I suppose this topic might be worn out by now, but I hope my 12 faithful readers can bear with me as I throw out more musings regarding this crazy activity that I love. So here goes.
As I enter this year I am looking back at the progression of the last three years of my life. The first year of what I often refer to as my fitness journey was the beginner year. I made the most significant progress in that first year, I went from a couch potato to an active person. I did participate in a few small road races, each time as part of a group from work, but mostly I just got out there and walked, hour after hour, 3-4 days a week. I didn't track mileage at that time because I was just doing it to lose weight. Then a funny thing happened. I got an Android smart phone, and was futzing with it one day and discovered a GPS app that was designed to track mileage. I was completely unaware that such a thing existed, let alone that I should use one. But being curious, I entered my info, went out for a walk, pushed the start button on the thing, and from that day on I never looked back.
For the first time, other than the races I had done, I had an idea of how far I was actually going each time I got out there. Those numbers really excited me, seeing that little glowing screen with a real number on it lit a fire under me. Soon I was tracking every walk, and as I progressed from walking to running, I set goals to increase mileage and began to really feel amazed at the numbers I saw. It pushed me forward to keep going, to see how much farther I could go and how fast I could do it. At that point I began to think that more difficult race distances were within my reach. I kept at it, getting in the miles and continuing to re-evaluate the idea of what was possible for me to accomplish.
As I entered year two of my journey, I was preparing for the longest distance I'd ever done: a half marathon. I had finished my first 10k race in November, walking most of the way, and I'd been so proud that I could run the entire last mile of the race. Now I began to run more and walk less, and as I added miles to my runs, my faithful GPS friend cheered me on every mile, telling me how fast I'd gone and how far. By the end of January I completed my first 12 miler, then a few short weeks later I finished the half marathon. I ran a lot of it, walked about 1/3 of the total distance of the race, and I finished more than 20 minutes faster than I thought I could. It was an amazing feeling, I felt like I had joined some exclusive club that I had always thought only belonged to the super fit and super crazy. As I crossed the finish line, a complete stranger handed me a ribbon with a little piece of metal on it. It had the race logo, the distance and the date on it. And it was mine. My first half marathon race medal.
Though I had previously done several short races, I'd only gotten one medal up until then. It was in the shape of the Bubba Gump shrimp because they had sponsored the race. Pure product placement. I hadn't thought much of it, but now as I hung medal number two on my bulletin board I could see a pattern forming. I thought that they looked kind of lonely, just the two of them there. And that's when it happened. I started to become addicted to racing and collecting race bling. I immediately signed up for two more half marathons at that point, because I was fired up from the first one, but specifically because the combination of those particular races netted the finisher an extra medal for finishing the "challenge" of completing all three races. I ran the second half marathon a few months after the first, running the entire thing without walking. I ran the third half marathon 5 months after that, with a time half an hour faster than the first one I had done. That was an awesome achievement for me, but I remember the most exciting part for me was going to the tent to pick up my challenge medal after receiving my race medal at the finish line. I walked around that day with not one, but two big hunks of metal around my neck. They were heavy and clanked together obnoxiously, but I loved it. I went home and added them to my bulletin board, photographed them from every angle and plastered the photos all over Facebook. Then I sat back, and thought, "what's next?" There were many races coming up in my region and I wanted to do them all! Pretty soon I was registered for 4 more races all taking place within 4 months of each other. Sounds like a tall order, but I felt invincible and felt confident I could take them all on.
And then it was year three. A year ago at this time I had already completed the first race of the year, with three to go. I still looked at the medals I had on my wall but kept thinking about the ones I didn't have yet. I trained and trained and racked up miles, but my mind was on all the races coming up. By this time last year I was fully entrenched in training for my first full marathon. I was stressed from the requirement of the training, but I kept thinking how my "collection" would finally be complete with a medal that had "Marathon" on it. I went to the starting line that day, and finished a distance of 26.2 miles. And just like the year before, I received a pretty ribbon with a pretty piece of metal on it. Over the next few months I ran all the races I'd signed up for, collected my bling, and had to find a new way to display the medals because they were too heavy for the cork board I'd been using. It was a wonderful feeling to see the "evidence" of all the hard work I'd done. And yet the funny thing was, that no matter how great an achievement it was, I was totally burned out.
I started to think about the races I'd run. I had achieved a PR at nearly all of them, but I was still falling short of my ultimate goals. How could that be with all the running I was doing? I realized that I had been focused so much on racing that I hadn't had time for proper training. That is, a set routine of different routes and speeds, over a long period of time. Each race required a lot of effort and time in and of itself, as well as weeks of resting during tapering before and recovery after each race. I wasn't giving myself enough time in between to regroup and spend time focusing on just getting in the miles. I had a wall full of bling but was still short of the rewards I really wanted. So I took some time off from races and went back to running just for the sake of running.
5 months and a vacation in Hawaii passed before my next race. I spent that time running a regular routine which included runs of distances between 4 and 10 miles 2-4 times during the week, with long runs on Saturdays of 14-18 miles. I racked up miles and without upcoming races on my mind I found myself focusing on each run, to seeing what I could pull off on my own, without official timers and bling at the end. In October I ran my seventh half marathon race and finally pulled off a significant time goal that I'd been reaching for since the first race of the year: to run that distance in less than 2 1/2 hours. I did that, and 4 minutes under my goal, I was super excited with those results. As I added my new medal to the collection, I didn't really think about it, I was more excited about my time. I didn't run another race after that in 2013, though there were many that I would have loved to have run, timing and finances weren't right for it, so I just enjoyed being out there and getting in the miles.
That's not to say I'm giving up on the thrill of racing. I love racing, even though there's not a chance I'll ever win one of the silly things. It's basically the environment involved. Sure, I can go run for free any day of the week in lots of scenic places and share smiles with people in similar silly outfits like mine. But race day is like prom for runners. You go get your outfit (packet), you dress up, prepare yourself, and show up whether you have a date or not because you know it's going to be an event to remember. Everyone at a race has the same goal, whether they are in the first corral or the last corral. To finish the distance in the best possible time, and to share the same experience with hundreds or even thousands of others as crazy as them. There are smiles and high fives and bonding between complete strangers because we all know what it took to get to that starting line, and what it will take to finish. I've received compliments and encouragement countless times in races from people I've never met, and even made a new running BFF at one race, after striking up a conversation in the most random of circumstances.
As year 4 of my journey begins, I am back in race prep mode. I just ran my first half marathon of the year, and next up will be full marathon #2 in March. Another half marathon will be in April. After that, who knows? I already have "must have" races planned for the next year and a half, but I no longer have the desire to register for every single race I see advertised. I have specific goals to meet for each race, and specific training routines I set to meet those goals. As I go through my training, I can laugh at myself that I get so excited about getting a medal for running 13.1 miles, when I reasonably easily complete distances much further than that on a regular basis, with no medals or t-shirts to show for it. I still have my trusty GPS app, and have just upgraded to my first GPS tracking watch, which supposedly will provide even more accurate results to guide me in tracking my training progress.
As I look back on the last three years, as I previously mentioned, I am in awe of the progress I've made. I laugh at myself because regardless of the changes I've made on the outside, my addictive personality is still firmly intact. It's just that the addictions have changed. Whereas I once previously was addicted to collecting things that kept me sitting around in the house (I don't want to think how much I spent on DVD's in those days), now I'm addicted to things that contribute to my personal well being and health. Yeah, maybe collecting all those race medals might seem silly to non-runners, but for me they will always represent the difference between the old me and the new me. My goal now is simply to scale the addiction back enough that I can enjoy the rewards without wearing myself and my bank account out getting them. Those registration fees ain't cheap...
Anyway, I'm still learning balance, it's taking time for sure, but I'm closer to reaching it than ever before.
And now here's a photo of my race bling so far. You didn't think I'd write all this nonsense and not show you the bling! This is every piece of race bling I've collected since I've begun running races. These medals include 3 5k's, a virtual half marathon, 8 half marathon races, the Beach Cities Challenge medal, and 1 full marathon. And counting...
As usual, thank you for reading my brain droppings. I appreciate any comments (nice ones anyway, LOL), and feel free to share if you think your friends could stand me.
Until next time....
-MaryAnne
Thursday, June 13, 2013
Viva La "Pushing 40"
So last Saturday I turned 39. Which means that, as of right now, I'm less than one year from turning the BIG 4-0. I suppose I should be all bummed and stuff about it, that I'm going over the hill and all, but somehow I just can't. Because right now I feel better than I ever have in my entire life. I keep thinking about all the things I am capable of doing right now, at this ripe old age, and rather than being down about the onward march of time, I am excited every day to see what is going to happen next. You see, going back through the years, I can see that there is not a single time in my life when I was ever capable of doing the things I am doing now. Ever. Not in my 20's. Not in my teens. Not even in childhood. And at any point in my life up until about 2 1/2 years ago, if you had told me what I would be capable of doing at the age of 39, I would have told you that you were nuts. Because I could never have imagined it would be possible.
I was a skinny kid until I was about 11. I was somewhat active, but kept most of my activities to kids stuff, not physically challenging activities. I was not athletic-minded and didn't much like PE class. I never matched up to my classmates in skills, speed and athletic ability. I sucked at jumping rope, I wasn't flexible, and couldn't climb that stupid rope in the middle of the gym. And I failed ski school, which is basically a badge of shame for a kid growing up in the land of future Winter Olympic hopefuls. By the time I was in my pre-teens, my eating habits caught up with my lack of physical activity, and I started to pack on the pounds. In Jr. High and High School, PE class was even more challenging than elementary school, but despite my being less than athletic, it wasn't so bad. I enjoyed many sports and games, played on the school's softball team for 3 seasons, and even went for a few rounds of Powder Puff football. Though that was more stupid than sport.
In fact, there was only one athletic activity that I really hated: running. In the other activities in PE class I could almost match up to some of the kids in the class in ability, but running pretty much showed me where I really stood in the scheme of things. Dead last. We would go out in the woods to run, and at first I could keep up with the pack, but soon they all left me behind. By the time I would drag my butt to the end of the course, the other kids had already gone back to the locker room. I hated being tired and feeling worn out, but even more than that I hated going back to that locker room and facing the other kids. I can't recall anyone ever picking on me about my slow running, but just that they knew how sucky I was was humiliating enough for me.
Then I got bronchitis. It was my junior year of high school. After I recovered, I discovered that I was having trouble breathing on occasion. My doctor diagnosed me with asthma, specifically asthma triggered by strenuous physical activity. I should have been bummed, but it was like a weight lifted off my shoulders. Because the doctor told me I didn't have to run in PE class any more. I took a note to my PE teacher and every time the class went running, I would either walk the short course, or just sit on my butt on the bleachers while they all trotted through the woods. And that suited me just fine.
There was one challenging physical activitiy I really did enjoy in my younger years, which was hiking. My dad would take us out in the woods and we'd explore beautiful forests, with streams and lakes and treasures hidden from the world that only the brave and persistent could find. I loved those hiking trips as a kid, but as I got older and heavier, they got more and more difficult. I'll never forget the day we climbed Mt. Rose. I was about 11 or 12 when we did that hike. It was the whole family out there that day. I don't remember where the trailhead was in those days, but I think it was about the same distance round trip as it is now from the highway summit trailhead, about 10 miles, with 2000 feet of elevation gain. Up until then I'd been ok on hikes, but this one kicked my butt. I had to rest a lot, and the last climb to the summit nearly got to me. I was sitting on a rock resting, and a stranger on his way down remarked, "Hey there! You should get going, your family is waiting up there for you! Your dad made it. Your mom made it. Your brother made it. Heck, even the dog made it!" So I got off my butt and made it to the summit. I don't remember much about what happened after that, just that it was hard and I was glad it when was over.
I did a few more hikes after that, but eventually it just got too hard. The last one I remember was hiking to Velma Lakes with my brother Mike and cousin Eric just after I graduated high school. I think it was only 3 or 4 miles to the lake, but I barely made it there. It was uphill most of the way and despite how beautiful it was, I hated that hike because I had to keep stopping to rest. The two guys were polite and waited for me for most of the trip, but at one point they ditched me in the woods all alone with the bears and mountain lions and wombats and rabid squirrels so they could go enjoy chilling by the lake while I tried to avoid being eaten. I survived somehow, but after that I didn't do much hiking, other than occasional walks along the trails in the woods near my house. By the time I moved to Long Beach I forgot all about hiking, putting it away in my mind with other rites of my childhood, the things that I'd loved, but let go of because I figured they were lost due to aging and my physical condition.
Fast forward about 15 years, to the day I looked at my 300+ lb lard butt in a hotel bathroom mirror, and decided to do something about it. You guys know the rest. I went for walks, stopped eating so much junk, lost a bunch of weight, and started to feel good. And then I became a runner. So now you kind of get the idea how much this running thing means to me. Because it's not like I was ever a good runner at any point in my life and lost the ability. No, up until recently, it was always difficult, horrible and humiliating. Which is why it's so darn liberating to do it now. Every time I run I'm stomping on my old habits and ways of thinking, and showing them who's boss. I'm reveling in freedom from the bonds I put on myself in my younger years, when I compared myself to the other kids, told myself I was a failure because I wasn't as good as them, and accepted being out of shape as a fact of life. And the best thing about being a runner is what it has done for my overall physical well-being, in strength, persistence and endurance. As much as I enjoy running, more than that I enjoy being able to do other things that for so many years I had assumed were lost to me, but are now once again within reach because of my improved physical ability.
So in an attempt to wrap things up, I'll go back to why I'm so stoked about turning 39. About a year ago, I visited my dad for his 80th birthday. There was only one thing that the man of the mountains wanted to do to mark that momentous occasion: hike to Mt. Rose. Yep. The one and only. So I took my dad and the poor unsuspecting Filipino guy that I'm married to, and we got on the trail. My dad was a real trooper, he made it 4/5 of the way in before he decided it would be best to call it a day. But he told us to go up to the summit and meet up with him later. So we did. And this time it was a different story. I didn't drag up that hill. I charged up it. The wind was blowing, the sun was glaring, and there was little air to speak of up there close to 11,000 feet elevation. But I conquered that peak, and came down wanting to crow like a whole flock of roosters. When I got home to Southern California, I found myself researching places to hike, hoping to rediscover the joy I'd had exploring the back country when I was a kid. I found lots of descriptions of hiking adventures, and remembering how I loved the mountaintop hikes the most, I sought those out the most fervently.
Last fall, I took the plunge and went on my first serious SoCal hike. I took on Mt. Wilson. It seemed like it should be a moderate hike for someone in my physical condition, but I overestimated my ability and didn't plan properly, so of course, it didn't go well. For more on that, read my "Just Keep Climbing" post. Like my misadventures in the woods to Velma Lakes, it was grueling and difficult and got me down because I didn't finish it the way I'd dreamed. But instead of giving up and throwing in the towel like my old self would have done, I was determined to show old Mt. Wilson who's boss. And so in April this year, I went back and did just that. It was an awesome experience, exactly everything I'd hoped the first one would be. And the confidence I gained from that hike set the stage for planning my 39th birthday adventure.
The mountain hike I've read the most about on various hiking websites and such is the hike to Mt. San Antonio, know colloquially in Southern California as "Old Mt. Baldy". At 10,068 feet, it is the tallest peak in the San Gabriel Mountains. It is accessible by two trails: the "Devil's Backbone" trail, which is nearly 7 miles from the trailhead to the summit, and the "Ski Hut" trail, which is 4.5 miles. Both routes challenge hikers with nearly 4,000 feet of elevation gain from the parking lot to the summit. Most hikers do a loop, taking one trail to the summit and taking the other one down, in order to enjoy all the views that the hike has to offer. Now, I'd done the two Mt. Wilson hikes solo, but had been advised not to take on Baldy the first time alone. So as my birthday approached, I begged the poor unsuspecting Filipino guy to come with me so I could hike Mt. Baldy to commemorate the day. He was a little leery, so I told him it would be the same as Mt. Rose. I think I bald-faced lied. Poor guy. It's a good thing that he's a really good sport. Or I'd probably still be there on Mt. Baldy, alone with the bears and wombats, because he would have abandoned me there halfway up the crazy-steep Ski Hut trail that I made him hike if he wasn't.
So, in the end it was a great day. Despite a little grumbling from my other half on the ascent and some difficulty with the descent on my part, we really enjoyed the hike. We came, we saw, we conquered, we bought the T-shirt. And I came home with yet another awesome experience for my collection. And that's what my life really boils down to right now. I might be getting older, but the way I see it, in my situation, I'm actually getting younger. As I continue to work on improving my fitness level, I can do more and more things I never imagined possible, and the best part is that I know I'm not nearly close to being at my peak. I'm already setting goals and making preparations for the next level that I'd like to reach, with confidence that with patience and determination, I can achieve those goals just the same as I've reached all the others that I made. Less than a year from now I will turn 40. And I'm confident that rather than going "over the hill", instead, to commemorate it, sometime next summer I'll be going "up a hill". A big one. Not sure which one yet, though Mt. Whitney is first on my list. It's an awesome feeling to me that despite our culture's emphasis on basing our abilities on age, the approaching age of 40 does not scare me, that instead it inspires me to prove that age is just a number, and we are only as old as we let ourselves be. It might seem like a cliché, but the very life I'm living is proof of it!
So, my friends, I hope you enjoyed my longer-than-usual stream of consciousness. I promise to do a post with more pictures and less blah blah blah soon, but until then, keep reading and reposting if you think your friends can stand me. Thanks so much, and see you next time!
-MaryAnne
I was a skinny kid until I was about 11. I was somewhat active, but kept most of my activities to kids stuff, not physically challenging activities. I was not athletic-minded and didn't much like PE class. I never matched up to my classmates in skills, speed and athletic ability. I sucked at jumping rope, I wasn't flexible, and couldn't climb that stupid rope in the middle of the gym. And I failed ski school, which is basically a badge of shame for a kid growing up in the land of future Winter Olympic hopefuls. By the time I was in my pre-teens, my eating habits caught up with my lack of physical activity, and I started to pack on the pounds. In Jr. High and High School, PE class was even more challenging than elementary school, but despite my being less than athletic, it wasn't so bad. I enjoyed many sports and games, played on the school's softball team for 3 seasons, and even went for a few rounds of Powder Puff football. Though that was more stupid than sport.
In fact, there was only one athletic activity that I really hated: running. In the other activities in PE class I could almost match up to some of the kids in the class in ability, but running pretty much showed me where I really stood in the scheme of things. Dead last. We would go out in the woods to run, and at first I could keep up with the pack, but soon they all left me behind. By the time I would drag my butt to the end of the course, the other kids had already gone back to the locker room. I hated being tired and feeling worn out, but even more than that I hated going back to that locker room and facing the other kids. I can't recall anyone ever picking on me about my slow running, but just that they knew how sucky I was was humiliating enough for me.
Then I got bronchitis. It was my junior year of high school. After I recovered, I discovered that I was having trouble breathing on occasion. My doctor diagnosed me with asthma, specifically asthma triggered by strenuous physical activity. I should have been bummed, but it was like a weight lifted off my shoulders. Because the doctor told me I didn't have to run in PE class any more. I took a note to my PE teacher and every time the class went running, I would either walk the short course, or just sit on my butt on the bleachers while they all trotted through the woods. And that suited me just fine.
There was one challenging physical activitiy I really did enjoy in my younger years, which was hiking. My dad would take us out in the woods and we'd explore beautiful forests, with streams and lakes and treasures hidden from the world that only the brave and persistent could find. I loved those hiking trips as a kid, but as I got older and heavier, they got more and more difficult. I'll never forget the day we climbed Mt. Rose. I was about 11 or 12 when we did that hike. It was the whole family out there that day. I don't remember where the trailhead was in those days, but I think it was about the same distance round trip as it is now from the highway summit trailhead, about 10 miles, with 2000 feet of elevation gain. Up until then I'd been ok on hikes, but this one kicked my butt. I had to rest a lot, and the last climb to the summit nearly got to me. I was sitting on a rock resting, and a stranger on his way down remarked, "Hey there! You should get going, your family is waiting up there for you! Your dad made it. Your mom made it. Your brother made it. Heck, even the dog made it!" So I got off my butt and made it to the summit. I don't remember much about what happened after that, just that it was hard and I was glad it when was over.
I did a few more hikes after that, but eventually it just got too hard. The last one I remember was hiking to Velma Lakes with my brother Mike and cousin Eric just after I graduated high school. I think it was only 3 or 4 miles to the lake, but I barely made it there. It was uphill most of the way and despite how beautiful it was, I hated that hike because I had to keep stopping to rest. The two guys were polite and waited for me for most of the trip, but at one point they ditched me in the woods all alone with the bears and mountain lions and wombats and rabid squirrels so they could go enjoy chilling by the lake while I tried to avoid being eaten. I survived somehow, but after that I didn't do much hiking, other than occasional walks along the trails in the woods near my house. By the time I moved to Long Beach I forgot all about hiking, putting it away in my mind with other rites of my childhood, the things that I'd loved, but let go of because I figured they were lost due to aging and my physical condition.
Fast forward about 15 years, to the day I looked at my 300+ lb lard butt in a hotel bathroom mirror, and decided to do something about it. You guys know the rest. I went for walks, stopped eating so much junk, lost a bunch of weight, and started to feel good. And then I became a runner. So now you kind of get the idea how much this running thing means to me. Because it's not like I was ever a good runner at any point in my life and lost the ability. No, up until recently, it was always difficult, horrible and humiliating. Which is why it's so darn liberating to do it now. Every time I run I'm stomping on my old habits and ways of thinking, and showing them who's boss. I'm reveling in freedom from the bonds I put on myself in my younger years, when I compared myself to the other kids, told myself I was a failure because I wasn't as good as them, and accepted being out of shape as a fact of life. And the best thing about being a runner is what it has done for my overall physical well-being, in strength, persistence and endurance. As much as I enjoy running, more than that I enjoy being able to do other things that for so many years I had assumed were lost to me, but are now once again within reach because of my improved physical ability.
So in an attempt to wrap things up, I'll go back to why I'm so stoked about turning 39. About a year ago, I visited my dad for his 80th birthday. There was only one thing that the man of the mountains wanted to do to mark that momentous occasion: hike to Mt. Rose. Yep. The one and only. So I took my dad and the poor unsuspecting Filipino guy that I'm married to, and we got on the trail. My dad was a real trooper, he made it 4/5 of the way in before he decided it would be best to call it a day. But he told us to go up to the summit and meet up with him later. So we did. And this time it was a different story. I didn't drag up that hill. I charged up it. The wind was blowing, the sun was glaring, and there was little air to speak of up there close to 11,000 feet elevation. But I conquered that peak, and came down wanting to crow like a whole flock of roosters. When I got home to Southern California, I found myself researching places to hike, hoping to rediscover the joy I'd had exploring the back country when I was a kid. I found lots of descriptions of hiking adventures, and remembering how I loved the mountaintop hikes the most, I sought those out the most fervently.
Last fall, I took the plunge and went on my first serious SoCal hike. I took on Mt. Wilson. It seemed like it should be a moderate hike for someone in my physical condition, but I overestimated my ability and didn't plan properly, so of course, it didn't go well. For more on that, read my "Just Keep Climbing" post. Like my misadventures in the woods to Velma Lakes, it was grueling and difficult and got me down because I didn't finish it the way I'd dreamed. But instead of giving up and throwing in the towel like my old self would have done, I was determined to show old Mt. Wilson who's boss. And so in April this year, I went back and did just that. It was an awesome experience, exactly everything I'd hoped the first one would be. And the confidence I gained from that hike set the stage for planning my 39th birthday adventure.
The mountain hike I've read the most about on various hiking websites and such is the hike to Mt. San Antonio, know colloquially in Southern California as "Old Mt. Baldy". At 10,068 feet, it is the tallest peak in the San Gabriel Mountains. It is accessible by two trails: the "Devil's Backbone" trail, which is nearly 7 miles from the trailhead to the summit, and the "Ski Hut" trail, which is 4.5 miles. Both routes challenge hikers with nearly 4,000 feet of elevation gain from the parking lot to the summit. Most hikers do a loop, taking one trail to the summit and taking the other one down, in order to enjoy all the views that the hike has to offer. Now, I'd done the two Mt. Wilson hikes solo, but had been advised not to take on Baldy the first time alone. So as my birthday approached, I begged the poor unsuspecting Filipino guy to come with me so I could hike Mt. Baldy to commemorate the day. He was a little leery, so I told him it would be the same as Mt. Rose. I think I bald-faced lied. Poor guy. It's a good thing that he's a really good sport. Or I'd probably still be there on Mt. Baldy, alone with the bears and wombats, because he would have abandoned me there halfway up the crazy-steep Ski Hut trail that I made him hike if he wasn't.
So, in the end it was a great day. Despite a little grumbling from my other half on the ascent and some difficulty with the descent on my part, we really enjoyed the hike. We came, we saw, we conquered, we bought the T-shirt. And I came home with yet another awesome experience for my collection. And that's what my life really boils down to right now. I might be getting older, but the way I see it, in my situation, I'm actually getting younger. As I continue to work on improving my fitness level, I can do more and more things I never imagined possible, and the best part is that I know I'm not nearly close to being at my peak. I'm already setting goals and making preparations for the next level that I'd like to reach, with confidence that with patience and determination, I can achieve those goals just the same as I've reached all the others that I made. Less than a year from now I will turn 40. And I'm confident that rather than going "over the hill", instead, to commemorate it, sometime next summer I'll be going "up a hill". A big one. Not sure which one yet, though Mt. Whitney is first on my list. It's an awesome feeling to me that despite our culture's emphasis on basing our abilities on age, the approaching age of 40 does not scare me, that instead it inspires me to prove that age is just a number, and we are only as old as we let ourselves be. It might seem like a cliché, but the very life I'm living is proof of it!
So, my friends, I hope you enjoyed my longer-than-usual stream of consciousness. I promise to do a post with more pictures and less blah blah blah soon, but until then, keep reading and reposting if you think your friends can stand me. Thanks so much, and see you next time!
-MaryAnne
Saturday, May 18, 2013
Back To Basics
Here I am again at my computer, hammering out some thoughts and hoping against hope that I can get them all put in order and published for my adoring public of approximately 12 faithful readers before my brain goes to mush and I forget what I wanted to say. As I write this I have approximately 3 or 4 posts that I started and never finished, simply because I have a tendency to write way too much. I always need to go through and edit, cut and polish before I feel ready to post, and while the writing part is not too hard, the editing part is where I get all bogged down. The good news is, if I ever hit a dry spell where I go for awhile without thinking of anything to write, I've got those posts already started and I can just go cannibalize them for ideas. However, that day is not today, so off we go with the latest stuff swimming around in my brain.
I have written post after post about running, especially about my love for doing races, how much it all means to me and how it's helped me accomplish a lot towards my health. So it may come as a surprise to many that I've decided to take a break from racing for awhile, and to just focus on my training runs. I have several reasons for this, thus the ever wordy blog post.
A few weeks back, I ran another half marathon. It was my third half marathon this year. In addition to that, so far this year I've also run a full marathon and done a 5k walk thrown in for good measure. That's a whole lot crammed together in just over 5 months time. I have a whole wall covered with shiny, sparkly medals now, they hang by my bed to remind me of my accomplishments and how far I've come. So why the pause now? Because while I was able to complete each race in reasonable time, I know that I could have done better. Last year I ran a total of three half marathons, one 10k and two 5ks over the course of the entire year. Each time I raced a half, I had a nice fat PR to crow about over the previous one, for the simple reason that I had several months time in between each one to train. This time around, I've still gotten a couple of PR's, but each only a minute or better than the previous best. While any runner would tell you that any PR is a good PR, in my case I am still a new runner and still moving up in my ability. I know that my progress should be more significant because I'm not anywhere near my peak yet.
So why did I run so many races the past few months? Simply put, I got excited. After all my personal victories last year, I started to feel just a teeny bit invincible. I wanted to keep feeling that wonderful feeling, so I signed up for every race I could that fit my personal criteria of challenging, but still fun and exciting. A race through the streets of Los Angeles at night. A race "with the stars" along Hollywood Blvd. A race where all the participants were women and we got to wear the most awesome pink outfits, where we all got tiaras and feather boas at the finish line, along with a giant medal handed to us by a handsome shirtless man who wore the pants of a Fireman, that we were all pretty sure wasn't really a Fireman but we didn't really care . And then there was that marathon. I'd decided to do a marathon last summer, and I set my sights on the race that I'd run as my first half marathon the previous year as the same race I'd do for my first full. For sentimental reasons and all.
The marathon was in February, and I finished it in 6 hours and 27 minutes. I told myself I was happy because I had finished, but something about my time nagged at me. And it was simply the knowledge that I could have done better. I had started training for the Surf City Marathon in October, after running the Long Beach Half Marathon. Up until that time I had never run more than 13.1 miles. I was scared, but with a pep talk from my other half, I got out there and ran 14 miles. The next week I did 16 miles, then 18. I was ready to get up to 20, but something happened and I had to miss a week or so of training. I can't remember what happened, could have been illness or injury or any number of things. For the next couple months I kept doing that 14, 16 and 18 miles, but couldn't get up to 20. Something always came up. Then winter and the holidays came along. I tried to run but it was cold, rainy, and there were lots of activities and trips that prevented me from sticking to my training plan. I still ran somewhat regularly, but was nowhere near the level I wanted to be. When January rolled around, I still hadn't done a 20 miler, and there was just one month to the marathon. I ran a half marathon the first weekend in January, then set my sights on cramming in as much training as possible before the marathon. Two weeks before the race, I finally made it up to 20 miles. And after that, I didn't do another long run until the day of the race.
The marathon was tough. Well, duh. I don't think a marathon is easy for anyone. But it thoroughly kicked my butt. I came in like 2020th out of like 2090. I say "like" because I don't have the exact stats in front of me, but that's pretty darn close. Out of more than 2,000 people, I only beat about 70. Of course I was ecstatic to finish the darn thing and have a marathon medal to add to my collection and a new sticker to put on my car, but I just couldn't shake the nagging feeling that it was not what it could have been. So what went wrong? Too many distractions during training. I had tried to cram in a lot of training during the wrong time of year, and threw off my training by running another race too close to the big one. So after that, I figured I would get back into the swing of things with the next two races I had lined up, and that all that marathon training would translate into huge half marathon PRs. But that didn't happen either. Like the marathon, I did acceptably well, but not nearly as well as I'd hoped. The races were so close together that I spent more time in tapering (before the race) and recovery (after the race) than I did in actual training. I did short maintenance runs, but couldn't get in those long training runs that I needed to build back up my endurance for the races.
So what's my plan now? I'm getting back to basics. For one thing, I still need to lose some weight. I've been chasing a sub 200 number on the scale since last July when I finally saw the exact number 200, and ever since then I've been see-sawing between 200 and 205, never dipping lower. I've gotta go back to how I started losing weight in the first place, evaluating what I'm eating and working on eliminating and replacing the problem foods until I reach my weight loss goal of Shall Not Be Named Until A Later Time. Second, I need to go back to running for the sake of running, for the purpose of fitness and not just for adding shiny things to my wall. I know that a regular, uninterrupted running routine will do wonders for my fitness goal because that's what worked before. Finally, I have set a goal of running another full marathon next year, and to reach that goal I need to be training now, not waiting until just a few months before. This isn't the same case for all runners, but I have a lot of work to do so I'm determined to take the time to work my way up to the level where I will be comfortable to not only finish, but run the whole thing and take a nice, big chunk off my previous time.
I am not going to give up completely on running my beloved half marathons and other smaller races. But I've set some new standards for them. First of all, I will give myself adequate time between them. That means looking ahead and knowing I'm going to have to make some tough choices. There are some races that I've run that I have wonderful sentimental value for and will have a hard time giving up. But I'd rather be able to show up prepared for the challenge, have a good time and feel satisfied with the result, than simply show up to finish and have another medal for my wall. When I look at my medals, I want to remember having a victorious experience for each one, and a celebration of the accomplishment of each race each time I see them. Some runners can run races on a regular basis and have that experience with each one, but at this point in my journey I'm not at that level yet.
So for now, it's back to basics for me. I'm already at a good place to start, I know that it's just a matter of taking time, and having focus, determination and faith to get me where I want to be. I'm ready to get started, and looking forward to seeing what the next few months will bring.
Thanks again for reading, and as usual, if you like what you read, please feel free to share! See you all next time!
-MaryAnne
I have written post after post about running, especially about my love for doing races, how much it all means to me and how it's helped me accomplish a lot towards my health. So it may come as a surprise to many that I've decided to take a break from racing for awhile, and to just focus on my training runs. I have several reasons for this, thus the ever wordy blog post.
A few weeks back, I ran another half marathon. It was my third half marathon this year. In addition to that, so far this year I've also run a full marathon and done a 5k walk thrown in for good measure. That's a whole lot crammed together in just over 5 months time. I have a whole wall covered with shiny, sparkly medals now, they hang by my bed to remind me of my accomplishments and how far I've come. So why the pause now? Because while I was able to complete each race in reasonable time, I know that I could have done better. Last year I ran a total of three half marathons, one 10k and two 5ks over the course of the entire year. Each time I raced a half, I had a nice fat PR to crow about over the previous one, for the simple reason that I had several months time in between each one to train. This time around, I've still gotten a couple of PR's, but each only a minute or better than the previous best. While any runner would tell you that any PR is a good PR, in my case I am still a new runner and still moving up in my ability. I know that my progress should be more significant because I'm not anywhere near my peak yet.
So why did I run so many races the past few months? Simply put, I got excited. After all my personal victories last year, I started to feel just a teeny bit invincible. I wanted to keep feeling that wonderful feeling, so I signed up for every race I could that fit my personal criteria of challenging, but still fun and exciting. A race through the streets of Los Angeles at night. A race "with the stars" along Hollywood Blvd. A race where all the participants were women and we got to wear the most awesome pink outfits, where we all got tiaras and feather boas at the finish line, along with a giant medal handed to us by a handsome shirtless man who wore the pants of a Fireman, that we were all pretty sure wasn't really a Fireman but we didn't really care . And then there was that marathon. I'd decided to do a marathon last summer, and I set my sights on the race that I'd run as my first half marathon the previous year as the same race I'd do for my first full. For sentimental reasons and all.
The marathon was in February, and I finished it in 6 hours and 27 minutes. I told myself I was happy because I had finished, but something about my time nagged at me. And it was simply the knowledge that I could have done better. I had started training for the Surf City Marathon in October, after running the Long Beach Half Marathon. Up until that time I had never run more than 13.1 miles. I was scared, but with a pep talk from my other half, I got out there and ran 14 miles. The next week I did 16 miles, then 18. I was ready to get up to 20, but something happened and I had to miss a week or so of training. I can't remember what happened, could have been illness or injury or any number of things. For the next couple months I kept doing that 14, 16 and 18 miles, but couldn't get up to 20. Something always came up. Then winter and the holidays came along. I tried to run but it was cold, rainy, and there were lots of activities and trips that prevented me from sticking to my training plan. I still ran somewhat regularly, but was nowhere near the level I wanted to be. When January rolled around, I still hadn't done a 20 miler, and there was just one month to the marathon. I ran a half marathon the first weekend in January, then set my sights on cramming in as much training as possible before the marathon. Two weeks before the race, I finally made it up to 20 miles. And after that, I didn't do another long run until the day of the race.
The marathon was tough. Well, duh. I don't think a marathon is easy for anyone. But it thoroughly kicked my butt. I came in like 2020th out of like 2090. I say "like" because I don't have the exact stats in front of me, but that's pretty darn close. Out of more than 2,000 people, I only beat about 70. Of course I was ecstatic to finish the darn thing and have a marathon medal to add to my collection and a new sticker to put on my car, but I just couldn't shake the nagging feeling that it was not what it could have been. So what went wrong? Too many distractions during training. I had tried to cram in a lot of training during the wrong time of year, and threw off my training by running another race too close to the big one. So after that, I figured I would get back into the swing of things with the next two races I had lined up, and that all that marathon training would translate into huge half marathon PRs. But that didn't happen either. Like the marathon, I did acceptably well, but not nearly as well as I'd hoped. The races were so close together that I spent more time in tapering (before the race) and recovery (after the race) than I did in actual training. I did short maintenance runs, but couldn't get in those long training runs that I needed to build back up my endurance for the races.
So what's my plan now? I'm getting back to basics. For one thing, I still need to lose some weight. I've been chasing a sub 200 number on the scale since last July when I finally saw the exact number 200, and ever since then I've been see-sawing between 200 and 205, never dipping lower. I've gotta go back to how I started losing weight in the first place, evaluating what I'm eating and working on eliminating and replacing the problem foods until I reach my weight loss goal of Shall Not Be Named Until A Later Time. Second, I need to go back to running for the sake of running, for the purpose of fitness and not just for adding shiny things to my wall. I know that a regular, uninterrupted running routine will do wonders for my fitness goal because that's what worked before. Finally, I have set a goal of running another full marathon next year, and to reach that goal I need to be training now, not waiting until just a few months before. This isn't the same case for all runners, but I have a lot of work to do so I'm determined to take the time to work my way up to the level where I will be comfortable to not only finish, but run the whole thing and take a nice, big chunk off my previous time.
I am not going to give up completely on running my beloved half marathons and other smaller races. But I've set some new standards for them. First of all, I will give myself adequate time between them. That means looking ahead and knowing I'm going to have to make some tough choices. There are some races that I've run that I have wonderful sentimental value for and will have a hard time giving up. But I'd rather be able to show up prepared for the challenge, have a good time and feel satisfied with the result, than simply show up to finish and have another medal for my wall. When I look at my medals, I want to remember having a victorious experience for each one, and a celebration of the accomplishment of each race each time I see them. Some runners can run races on a regular basis and have that experience with each one, but at this point in my journey I'm not at that level yet.
So for now, it's back to basics for me. I'm already at a good place to start, I know that it's just a matter of taking time, and having focus, determination and faith to get me where I want to be. I'm ready to get started, and looking forward to seeing what the next few months will bring.
Thanks again for reading, and as usual, if you like what you read, please feel free to share! See you all next time!
-MaryAnne
Sunday, April 14, 2013
Discipline and The New You
So yesterday I went out for little jog, as usual for Saturday morning. I got up at 4am, ate my oatmeal, drank my coffee, got out and was on the road and ready to run by 5am. It started out pretty good, but as the day dawned I started to get a little frustrated. Notice I said, "the day dawned" and not "the sun rose". Because I'm pretty sure that yesterday the ol' sun decided to take himself a little sabbatical and not come out at all. He stuck a really big version of one of those curly light bulbs in the sky, threw some clouds over them so no one would notice, and went back to bed.
Now, normally I'm totally stoked when there is cloud cover while I'm running. Because it means I don't have to endure the life-sucking heat rays of the aforementioned sun. But it was really really gloomy yesterday, and having recovered from a cold I'd had earlier that week, I was just hoping for some warm sunshine to heat my cold, cabin-fevered bones. Then, to make matters worse, around mile 7 my silly phone started to malfunction. The "voice dialer" would activate for no particular reason, and no matter how many times I hit the "quit" button, it refused to disengage. The reason this was irritating is that the music I was listening to kept starting and stopping, and we all know that it's impossible to run without some sort of mechanical distraction plugged into our ears to drown out the gasping, wheezing, grunting and thigh flapping sounds our bodies make when we run. Now my poor phone has been through a lot these past few months. It's been dropped, stepped on, and otherwise tortured, so it runs slow and has all sorts of interesting glitches. Once in awhile, when I ask it do something complicated (like run a GPS sports tracker app and play music at the same time,) it stomps its feet, crosses its arms, shakes its head and says, "you must be kidding". So yesterday's technical difficulties had me fiddling with my phone for a good 20 minutes and then having to warm up all over again and convince my legs to finish the rest of my run.
So when I did finish my run, I was kind of bummed. I felt "off my game" and figured I hadn't done too well, but when I sat down to rest (which by the way you're not supposed to do, you're supposed to stretch right away after running to keep your muscles from cramping up, so do what I say and not what I do), and looked at my tracking app, I was surprised to find that I'd done a lot better than I thought I had. I had set out to finish 14 miles, which I did, and with a time 6 minutes faster than my previous best time for that distance. So much for "having a bad run". Even though I'd been discouraged, my body had disengaged itself from my brain and all the negative thoughts and just done what I'd trained it to do: run at a comfortable pace until I finished the distance I wanted to finish that day. And I realized that that has been the key to my success in running. The work I put into my training has accomplished its purpose in bringing me to the level I desire to be, so that even when I have a difficult time in doing it, I have what I need to complete what I set out to do.
It's been an interesting journey these past few years, seeing the changes that have come to pass in my life. The obvious changes have of course been those directly related to running. I've been blessed to have a lot of things come together for me to make it possible to enjoy running: my desire to be healthy, the nice weather in my hometown, good places to run, time to be out running. But the main foundation of all these changes has been one thing: discipline. Sometimes we think of that as almost a dirty word, because when we realize we are not disciplined, we feel guilty and try to hide from it. Even though we know the habits we have are dragging us down and causing a lot of damage, we deny there is anything wrong and keep doing what we want because we either think we don't need to change, or that even if we want to change it is impossible. Throughout my life I've dealt with these thoughts in many areas of my life, it just happens that my weight was the most evident of them and the biggest obstacle for me to overcome. It has taken monumental amounts of work to get where I am now in my fitness level, and I was only able to do it because I allowed discipline to take control in my life.
So I've been at this for two years now. I have trained myself to think and act differently in how I regard fitness and specifically, eating and running, and then apply the knowledge continuously through my actions. That is the root of discipline. First you think it, then you do it, and keep doing it even when it seems hard. You remind yourself constantly of where you've been, who you want to be, and don't let yourself fall below the standards you set because you know and believe you can be what you want to be, and don't allow yourself to settle for anything less. So how do you do that? It starts with the decision to change. You put aside all the negative thoughts, tell your stupid brain to just shut up, and you take the first step. Then another and another and another. And when you reach your goal, don't ever look back, because if you allow yourself to think your old thoughts for even a second, it's too easy to rationalize a little bit here and a little bit there until you realize you've undone all your hard work and gone back to being the person you fought so hard to leave behind.
The discipline I've developed in my running has had the incredible effect of spilling over into other areas of my life. I don't really want to go into specific detail because it would greatly increase the length of this post, but I wanted to mention it because it has been such an amazing experience for me over the past couple of years. I have seen the physical change in my body, but have reaped the most benefits in joy, peace, in my heart and in my spirit, by finding the courage to deal with other areas of my life that, like my weight, had discouraged and plagued me for much of my life, causing me to feel like a failure, like a dead weight, worthless and empty. I have been set free by cultivating discipline in my life, and though I'm far from perfect, I wake up every day knowing it is possible for me to live victoriously over all my character flaws, that I have the tools I need to overcome any obstacles, and that life from now on can only get better for me. I only hope to encourage all my readers that whatever it is that is holding you back, just let it go and take the first step. It may be hard to let go of some habits or ideas that you think define you and how you live, but if you want to make the change, just do it and don't look back. I promise the only regret you will have is that you didn't do it sooner.
As usual, thank you again for reading, and feel free to share/repost if you are encouraged.
Until next time!
-MaryAnne
Now, normally I'm totally stoked when there is cloud cover while I'm running. Because it means I don't have to endure the life-sucking heat rays of the aforementioned sun. But it was really really gloomy yesterday, and having recovered from a cold I'd had earlier that week, I was just hoping for some warm sunshine to heat my cold, cabin-fevered bones. Then, to make matters worse, around mile 7 my silly phone started to malfunction. The "voice dialer" would activate for no particular reason, and no matter how many times I hit the "quit" button, it refused to disengage. The reason this was irritating is that the music I was listening to kept starting and stopping, and we all know that it's impossible to run without some sort of mechanical distraction plugged into our ears to drown out the gasping, wheezing, grunting and thigh flapping sounds our bodies make when we run. Now my poor phone has been through a lot these past few months. It's been dropped, stepped on, and otherwise tortured, so it runs slow and has all sorts of interesting glitches. Once in awhile, when I ask it do something complicated (like run a GPS sports tracker app and play music at the same time,) it stomps its feet, crosses its arms, shakes its head and says, "you must be kidding". So yesterday's technical difficulties had me fiddling with my phone for a good 20 minutes and then having to warm up all over again and convince my legs to finish the rest of my run.
So when I did finish my run, I was kind of bummed. I felt "off my game" and figured I hadn't done too well, but when I sat down to rest (which by the way you're not supposed to do, you're supposed to stretch right away after running to keep your muscles from cramping up, so do what I say and not what I do), and looked at my tracking app, I was surprised to find that I'd done a lot better than I thought I had. I had set out to finish 14 miles, which I did, and with a time 6 minutes faster than my previous best time for that distance. So much for "having a bad run". Even though I'd been discouraged, my body had disengaged itself from my brain and all the negative thoughts and just done what I'd trained it to do: run at a comfortable pace until I finished the distance I wanted to finish that day. And I realized that that has been the key to my success in running. The work I put into my training has accomplished its purpose in bringing me to the level I desire to be, so that even when I have a difficult time in doing it, I have what I need to complete what I set out to do.
It's been an interesting journey these past few years, seeing the changes that have come to pass in my life. The obvious changes have of course been those directly related to running. I've been blessed to have a lot of things come together for me to make it possible to enjoy running: my desire to be healthy, the nice weather in my hometown, good places to run, time to be out running. But the main foundation of all these changes has been one thing: discipline. Sometimes we think of that as almost a dirty word, because when we realize we are not disciplined, we feel guilty and try to hide from it. Even though we know the habits we have are dragging us down and causing a lot of damage, we deny there is anything wrong and keep doing what we want because we either think we don't need to change, or that even if we want to change it is impossible. Throughout my life I've dealt with these thoughts in many areas of my life, it just happens that my weight was the most evident of them and the biggest obstacle for me to overcome. It has taken monumental amounts of work to get where I am now in my fitness level, and I was only able to do it because I allowed discipline to take control in my life.
So I've been at this for two years now. I have trained myself to think and act differently in how I regard fitness and specifically, eating and running, and then apply the knowledge continuously through my actions. That is the root of discipline. First you think it, then you do it, and keep doing it even when it seems hard. You remind yourself constantly of where you've been, who you want to be, and don't let yourself fall below the standards you set because you know and believe you can be what you want to be, and don't allow yourself to settle for anything less. So how do you do that? It starts with the decision to change. You put aside all the negative thoughts, tell your stupid brain to just shut up, and you take the first step. Then another and another and another. And when you reach your goal, don't ever look back, because if you allow yourself to think your old thoughts for even a second, it's too easy to rationalize a little bit here and a little bit there until you realize you've undone all your hard work and gone back to being the person you fought so hard to leave behind.
The discipline I've developed in my running has had the incredible effect of spilling over into other areas of my life. I don't really want to go into specific detail because it would greatly increase the length of this post, but I wanted to mention it because it has been such an amazing experience for me over the past couple of years. I have seen the physical change in my body, but have reaped the most benefits in joy, peace, in my heart and in my spirit, by finding the courage to deal with other areas of my life that, like my weight, had discouraged and plagued me for much of my life, causing me to feel like a failure, like a dead weight, worthless and empty. I have been set free by cultivating discipline in my life, and though I'm far from perfect, I wake up every day knowing it is possible for me to live victoriously over all my character flaws, that I have the tools I need to overcome any obstacles, and that life from now on can only get better for me. I only hope to encourage all my readers that whatever it is that is holding you back, just let it go and take the first step. It may be hard to let go of some habits or ideas that you think define you and how you live, but if you want to make the change, just do it and don't look back. I promise the only regret you will have is that you didn't do it sooner.
As usual, thank you again for reading, and feel free to share/repost if you are encouraged.
Until next time!
-MaryAnne
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Caution: Running Can Be Contagious
So a couple months ago, I registered for a silly little race in Hollywood, CA, the aptly named "Hollywood Half Marathon". Some friends had run it last year, and I thought it sounded like fun. Festive, nice shiny blingy medal, and not too many hills (Hellooooo, New Year's Race). So after I signed up, I went through my usual routine: blab about it on Facebook, blab about it to my friends, blab about it at church, and so on. And a funny thing happened. People started asking me if they could join too. Now, this particular race had all the perks of a good race: multiple options (5k, 10k and half marathon), nice shirts, interesting course, and of course the aforementioned shiny blingy medals for all finishers. Pretty soon I was carrying my laptop with me every time I went to church, so that I could register anyone who asked. I became kind of an informal team captain, organizing the group and by the time race day arrived, there were 9 of us in all, including myself, most of them first time racers.
I was the only one doing the half marathon. That is my favorite race distance, for the simple fact that I'm lazy. That might sound strange, but I think about it like this: it might be longer, but I don't have to run as fast. When I run a 5k or a 10k, I really run it hard, because I know I won't have to keep up the pace for a long while. But when I do a half marathon, for the first two thirds or so, I keep my pace down and enjoy the run, then pick up a bit towards the end. It's like a nice two and a half hour jog around the neighborhood. The rest of the group signed up for the 5k and 10k races, and as we started there was the usual sense of anticipation with my group and the entire crowd as a whole. As we crossed the starting line, we separated out. The guys took off running, I did my usual "go ahead and pass me now, I'm gonna pass your butt later when you're all tired out because you don't know how to pace yourself" jog, and the other ladies stayed back walking.
My race went really well. The course was the usual for Los Angeles: city streets, freeway overpasses, concrete water holes that they try to pass off as lakes. The first part of the race was under a heavy cloud layer, but within the last 4 miles I could see the Griffith Observatory up on the hill above me. I never saw the Hollywood sign, it was probably visible but I was too busy trying not to bump into costumed runners around me. You would think the Hollywood race would inspire people to dress as celebrities, but instead it was the usual assortment of superheroes and random wackiness. Lots of Supermen and Superwomen, at least one Batman and Wonder Woman. I'm trying to figure that out. I guess maybe Wonder Woman runs sometimes, and when he's not flying Superman can run really fast, but what's with Batman? He doesn't run, he just drives around in his Batmobile. How come I never see anybody dressed up as the Flash? You'd think that would be the first one that comes to mind. But I digress. My favorite costume of the day was a tie between the 5 Marilyn Monroes (I think maybe one of them was a dude?) and Giant Banana Guy. Not sure how he ran in that thing, but it was definitely entertaining. I suppose one of these times I'll dress up in costume for a race, but then again....nah. Unless you can find Xena Warrior Princess in dri tech fabric, then I'll be all over that.
I finished my race in about the time I thought I would, and assembled the group for finish line photos. They were all excited, looking at their medals, laughing and chatting about the experience. We drove back to the South Bay, and went into the local Hometown Buffet in full race regalia, with our race bibs still pinned to our shirts and medals dangling from our necks. People stared at first, then began smiling as we passed back and forth from the buffet to our table. Knowing smiles, as if to say, "ah, you guys earned those calories!".
I've done so many races now that I've lost count, but the one I'll always remember the most was my first race. The Run Seal Beach 5k in April of 2011. I remember signing up. I remember going for walks to prepare. I remember waiting for the starting whistle, getting out on the course, and trying to keep up with the little old ladies and moms pushing strollers. I remember every moment of that first race, and the exhilaration of finishing, even though it was just a 5k, it was a big moment for me because I'd never done it before. So sitting in Hometown Buffet, listening to my friends chat and laugh and tell stories about what had happened during their race was like being back at that first day myself, feeling that joy and satisfaction of meeting that goal and knowing it was possible to think bigger. The party continued today as the group all came to church with their medals. At the end of the service we all put them on and I enjoyed once again hearing the stories as they went around talking to the people who had "opted out" of the race. Nods and smiles all around, I'm thinking I better get started with planning the next round, because I just might have a bigger crowd to coordinate!
The funny thing is that I've wanted very much to encourage people to join me in my races because of all that running and racing have done for my health. Two of my previous races I've been able to get groups together from church, but not as big as this one! And each time the result was the same, people being encouraged and inspired by their accomplishment, and enjoying the benefits of being active. This experience has demonstrated to me that all that I've done with my running is getting the attention of people that otherwise wouldn't have thought of trying it. It turns out that running is contagious! I caught the bug myself at that first race two years back, and now it seems I'm spreading it to everyone else!
My goal moving forward is to keep encouraging people to join me in my fitness routine. Not just the races, but overall exercise and activity. I'm always happy when people come to me and tell me how they have been walking and seeing the results of it. Some of the people from Saturday's race are already asking me when the next one will be. Some of them are interested in moving up to the next level. Gleefully, they say, "wow, that was too easy!". I love it. Because I know exactly how they feel.
I love running and I love doing races. No matter what happens, I am going to keep running. But how much more wonderful is it that just by doing something I love I can inspire others to also take control of their health and have fun doing it too? It's an amazing feeling! I look forward to seeing what is to come, but for now I'm just enjoying seeing my little group shine and smile, the same way I did back when I first started. They may never get to the marathon level, but whatever level they reach, it's going to be much more than they ever thought possible. And that is the best reward of all.
Thank you again to my approximately 12 loyal readers. I may not have a big crowd of followers but the ones I've got are the most loyal and wonderful friends that I could ever hope to have. Thank you for following my story, always encouraging me and making me smile. Until Next Time!
-MaryAnne
I was the only one doing the half marathon. That is my favorite race distance, for the simple fact that I'm lazy. That might sound strange, but I think about it like this: it might be longer, but I don't have to run as fast. When I run a 5k or a 10k, I really run it hard, because I know I won't have to keep up the pace for a long while. But when I do a half marathon, for the first two thirds or so, I keep my pace down and enjoy the run, then pick up a bit towards the end. It's like a nice two and a half hour jog around the neighborhood. The rest of the group signed up for the 5k and 10k races, and as we started there was the usual sense of anticipation with my group and the entire crowd as a whole. As we crossed the starting line, we separated out. The guys took off running, I did my usual "go ahead and pass me now, I'm gonna pass your butt later when you're all tired out because you don't know how to pace yourself" jog, and the other ladies stayed back walking.
My race went really well. The course was the usual for Los Angeles: city streets, freeway overpasses, concrete water holes that they try to pass off as lakes. The first part of the race was under a heavy cloud layer, but within the last 4 miles I could see the Griffith Observatory up on the hill above me. I never saw the Hollywood sign, it was probably visible but I was too busy trying not to bump into costumed runners around me. You would think the Hollywood race would inspire people to dress as celebrities, but instead it was the usual assortment of superheroes and random wackiness. Lots of Supermen and Superwomen, at least one Batman and Wonder Woman. I'm trying to figure that out. I guess maybe Wonder Woman runs sometimes, and when he's not flying Superman can run really fast, but what's with Batman? He doesn't run, he just drives around in his Batmobile. How come I never see anybody dressed up as the Flash? You'd think that would be the first one that comes to mind. But I digress. My favorite costume of the day was a tie between the 5 Marilyn Monroes (I think maybe one of them was a dude?) and Giant Banana Guy. Not sure how he ran in that thing, but it was definitely entertaining. I suppose one of these times I'll dress up in costume for a race, but then again....nah. Unless you can find Xena Warrior Princess in dri tech fabric, then I'll be all over that.
I finished my race in about the time I thought I would, and assembled the group for finish line photos. They were all excited, looking at their medals, laughing and chatting about the experience. We drove back to the South Bay, and went into the local Hometown Buffet in full race regalia, with our race bibs still pinned to our shirts and medals dangling from our necks. People stared at first, then began smiling as we passed back and forth from the buffet to our table. Knowing smiles, as if to say, "ah, you guys earned those calories!".
I've done so many races now that I've lost count, but the one I'll always remember the most was my first race. The Run Seal Beach 5k in April of 2011. I remember signing up. I remember going for walks to prepare. I remember waiting for the starting whistle, getting out on the course, and trying to keep up with the little old ladies and moms pushing strollers. I remember every moment of that first race, and the exhilaration of finishing, even though it was just a 5k, it was a big moment for me because I'd never done it before. So sitting in Hometown Buffet, listening to my friends chat and laugh and tell stories about what had happened during their race was like being back at that first day myself, feeling that joy and satisfaction of meeting that goal and knowing it was possible to think bigger. The party continued today as the group all came to church with their medals. At the end of the service we all put them on and I enjoyed once again hearing the stories as they went around talking to the people who had "opted out" of the race. Nods and smiles all around, I'm thinking I better get started with planning the next round, because I just might have a bigger crowd to coordinate!
The funny thing is that I've wanted very much to encourage people to join me in my races because of all that running and racing have done for my health. Two of my previous races I've been able to get groups together from church, but not as big as this one! And each time the result was the same, people being encouraged and inspired by their accomplishment, and enjoying the benefits of being active. This experience has demonstrated to me that all that I've done with my running is getting the attention of people that otherwise wouldn't have thought of trying it. It turns out that running is contagious! I caught the bug myself at that first race two years back, and now it seems I'm spreading it to everyone else!
My goal moving forward is to keep encouraging people to join me in my fitness routine. Not just the races, but overall exercise and activity. I'm always happy when people come to me and tell me how they have been walking and seeing the results of it. Some of the people from Saturday's race are already asking me when the next one will be. Some of them are interested in moving up to the next level. Gleefully, they say, "wow, that was too easy!". I love it. Because I know exactly how they feel.
I love running and I love doing races. No matter what happens, I am going to keep running. But how much more wonderful is it that just by doing something I love I can inspire others to also take control of their health and have fun doing it too? It's an amazing feeling! I look forward to seeing what is to come, but for now I'm just enjoying seeing my little group shine and smile, the same way I did back when I first started. They may never get to the marathon level, but whatever level they reach, it's going to be much more than they ever thought possible. And that is the best reward of all.
Thank you again to my approximately 12 loyal readers. I may not have a big crowd of followers but the ones I've got are the most loyal and wonderful friends that I could ever hope to have. Thank you for following my story, always encouraging me and making me smile. Until Next Time!
-MaryAnne
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Curse You, Taco Day
Today's post has actually been sitting here in my computer for a few weeks now. I started writing a post about how I both love and hate taco day at work because I love to eat yummy tacos, but I struggle to deal with food temptations because I'm still trying to lose weight. I wasn't able to finish the post and publish it, and as the days passed I found myself beginning to think about the entire history of my relationship with food. It wasn't an overnight occurrence that got me from being a skinny kid to an obese adult, it was a gradual process of developing bad habits that has only been undone by an equally gradual process of self education and discipline that continues now, and always will for the rest of my life.
I have struggled my whole life with food. I've always loved food. The taste, the smell, the texture, everything. Ever since I can remember, my thoughts have revolved around food. When the next time would be that I would eat, what I would eat, how much of it I would be able to get. As a kid, my parents kept my eating habits in check by providing healthy foods and avoiding giving me an excess of sweets and sugary stuff, but whenever I had the opportunity, I found ways to get my hands on those things. Nearly every penny of birthday money and allowance that I got went to buy candy, sweets, junk food and the like. As I got older and more independent, the amount I ate increased exponentially with the freedom I had and the income I received from working, no matter that my parents and other people that cared about me tried to warn me that it wasn't healthy.
From my teenage years and into my adulthood I continued to eat to excess. I ate everything I loved without limitation. I knew the things I was eating weren't "healthy", but I didn't even try to look into nutritional information because I knew it would make me feel guilty about what I was doing, so I avoided it like the plague. Likewise, portion sizes were an unknown concept to me. To me, a portion consisted of the amount of food I could get into myself at any given time until I felt uncomfortable. I didn't just stuff myself at special occasions, I did it every day, every meal, and in between. If there was a super size available, I took it. And more often than not, I added more on top of that. As the years went by, my eating habits caught up with me, and I was incredibly overweight, but I remember being in a kind of denial. I didn't hate myself, I didn't feel guilty, I loved food and eating and didn't think there was anything wrong with me no matter how big I got. I knew all the health risks but put them out of my mind, ignored doctor's advice and went on eating as though there were no consequences.
The first time I was forced to face the health issues of obesity head-on was when I was pregnant with my youngest child. I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes in the later months of my pregnancy, and the nutritionist assigned to me put me on a very strict, precise diet to bring my blood sugar levels in line. I had to measure my blood sugar 4 times a day, and despite the diet I was on, I had to inject insulin because my blood sugar levels were still too high. When my daughter was born, I was 50 lbs and 3 sizes smaller than when I had gotten pregnant with her because of the effect of the drastic diet. I should have taken a hint and started to educate myself about nutrition then, but instead I started thinking about how those "mean" doctors had deprived my of my favorite foods, and as soon as my blood sugar levels went back to normal, I told myself it was ok to "indulge", and that it wasn't possible to gain back all of those 50 lbs that I had lost. But it was, and I did. And that was the point I reached two years ago when I realized I had no choice to but to make some changes or face the ultimate consequence of that level of unhealthy living.
It's hard to say the exact moment of truth that started my weight loss journey two years ago. I have touched on some of my motivations in previous posts, and I think it was a combination of things. The "bathroom mirror moment". Being denied life insurance because of my weight. My physical limitations. The heart palpitations, dizziness and shortness of breath. So many factors, so many variables. I was stubbornly able to ignore and deny so many things for so long, but the biggest obstacle was my relationship with food. I've written a lot of posts about my exercise routines, but the real key to my weight loss has been learning about nutrition, and changing my view of food from being a form of entertainment for me, to being the fuel my body needs to function. And it's been hard. As I mentioned above, many of the foods that I enjoy eating also happen to be things that are just really, really, really, really unhealthy when eaten in excess. I love taco day! Which is why I hate it. I want to eat healthy, but find myself constantly challenged by food temptations wherever I go. It's easy to eat healthy when the other options aren't present, but it's a struggle when they are right in front of your face and you have to fight a battle with your own stupid brain to just walk away and not eat something that you know will undo a lot of hard work, just because it tastes so good! If I could go the rest of my life and only have a steady stream of healthy, reasonable foods presented to me, I would be the happiest person on the planet, because I would never have to face my food demons.
I have spent the last two years of my life completely changing the way I view food and eating. I research, read, and experiment. I've learned what carbs are, what they do, and why they are necessary. I've learned the benefits of low-glycemic carbs vs. high-glycemic carbs. I know what protein does, what fiber does, and what vitamins, minerals, and electrolytes do. I've learned what is in different foods, and which foods I should avoid, which I should indulge in, and which I should have but in small amounts. I read ingredient lists and nutritional information panels, I know to scrutinize serving sizes and do math in my head to calculate the real information and not the numbers the companies want you to see. I know to ignore the front of labels, to avoid prominently displayed store displays and to never buy anything just because it says "healthy" "whole grain" "fat free" "gluten free" "low carb" "high protein" or whatever the trendy health buzz-word of the week is. There is an entire industry out there preying on people like me, who want to eat healthy but struggle to find the healthy options that provide the equivalent of the good feelings our former unhealthy favorites gave us. Thankfully, there are enough companies and organizations out there that really do want to help people succeed, the trick is learning to tell the legit from the fakers, and finding enough healthy replacement options to keep you on track when those really tough temptations come calling.
My relationship with food will always be a struggle for me. I will always want to eat too much of things I shouldn't, even though I am now fully aware of the detrimental effects they can have on my health. I will continue to try diligently to eat properly, while knowing that I am not perfect and will occasionally fail in this effort. I will not beat myself up over a temporary indulgence and will refuse to see such indulgence as an indicator of permanent failure. I know that I have come too far and learned too much to go back to my old ways. I still have a ways to go to reach my final weight loss goal, and each morning I wake up, I prepare myself to face the oncoming onslaught of food temptations and discouraging thoughts that I know are coming my way. But I am confident of my ability to finally and permanently beat this thing and live the life I was meant to have, healthy and strong. And no matter how many Taco Tuesday I have to endure, I know I can do it because I've already come this far.
Thank you again for reading! If you enjoy my posts, please feel free to repost on Facebook, send to friends, etc. I hate to ask but I'm trying to find an audience beyond my 12 or so devoted readers here, so please pimp me out to your friends if you think they will be encouraged.
Until next time...
I have struggled my whole life with food. I've always loved food. The taste, the smell, the texture, everything. Ever since I can remember, my thoughts have revolved around food. When the next time would be that I would eat, what I would eat, how much of it I would be able to get. As a kid, my parents kept my eating habits in check by providing healthy foods and avoiding giving me an excess of sweets and sugary stuff, but whenever I had the opportunity, I found ways to get my hands on those things. Nearly every penny of birthday money and allowance that I got went to buy candy, sweets, junk food and the like. As I got older and more independent, the amount I ate increased exponentially with the freedom I had and the income I received from working, no matter that my parents and other people that cared about me tried to warn me that it wasn't healthy.
From my teenage years and into my adulthood I continued to eat to excess. I ate everything I loved without limitation. I knew the things I was eating weren't "healthy", but I didn't even try to look into nutritional information because I knew it would make me feel guilty about what I was doing, so I avoided it like the plague. Likewise, portion sizes were an unknown concept to me. To me, a portion consisted of the amount of food I could get into myself at any given time until I felt uncomfortable. I didn't just stuff myself at special occasions, I did it every day, every meal, and in between. If there was a super size available, I took it. And more often than not, I added more on top of that. As the years went by, my eating habits caught up with me, and I was incredibly overweight, but I remember being in a kind of denial. I didn't hate myself, I didn't feel guilty, I loved food and eating and didn't think there was anything wrong with me no matter how big I got. I knew all the health risks but put them out of my mind, ignored doctor's advice and went on eating as though there were no consequences.
The first time I was forced to face the health issues of obesity head-on was when I was pregnant with my youngest child. I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes in the later months of my pregnancy, and the nutritionist assigned to me put me on a very strict, precise diet to bring my blood sugar levels in line. I had to measure my blood sugar 4 times a day, and despite the diet I was on, I had to inject insulin because my blood sugar levels were still too high. When my daughter was born, I was 50 lbs and 3 sizes smaller than when I had gotten pregnant with her because of the effect of the drastic diet. I should have taken a hint and started to educate myself about nutrition then, but instead I started thinking about how those "mean" doctors had deprived my of my favorite foods, and as soon as my blood sugar levels went back to normal, I told myself it was ok to "indulge", and that it wasn't possible to gain back all of those 50 lbs that I had lost. But it was, and I did. And that was the point I reached two years ago when I realized I had no choice to but to make some changes or face the ultimate consequence of that level of unhealthy living.
It's hard to say the exact moment of truth that started my weight loss journey two years ago. I have touched on some of my motivations in previous posts, and I think it was a combination of things. The "bathroom mirror moment". Being denied life insurance because of my weight. My physical limitations. The heart palpitations, dizziness and shortness of breath. So many factors, so many variables. I was stubbornly able to ignore and deny so many things for so long, but the biggest obstacle was my relationship with food. I've written a lot of posts about my exercise routines, but the real key to my weight loss has been learning about nutrition, and changing my view of food from being a form of entertainment for me, to being the fuel my body needs to function. And it's been hard. As I mentioned above, many of the foods that I enjoy eating also happen to be things that are just really, really, really, really unhealthy when eaten in excess. I love taco day! Which is why I hate it. I want to eat healthy, but find myself constantly challenged by food temptations wherever I go. It's easy to eat healthy when the other options aren't present, but it's a struggle when they are right in front of your face and you have to fight a battle with your own stupid brain to just walk away and not eat something that you know will undo a lot of hard work, just because it tastes so good! If I could go the rest of my life and only have a steady stream of healthy, reasonable foods presented to me, I would be the happiest person on the planet, because I would never have to face my food demons.
I have spent the last two years of my life completely changing the way I view food and eating. I research, read, and experiment. I've learned what carbs are, what they do, and why they are necessary. I've learned the benefits of low-glycemic carbs vs. high-glycemic carbs. I know what protein does, what fiber does, and what vitamins, minerals, and electrolytes do. I've learned what is in different foods, and which foods I should avoid, which I should indulge in, and which I should have but in small amounts. I read ingredient lists and nutritional information panels, I know to scrutinize serving sizes and do math in my head to calculate the real information and not the numbers the companies want you to see. I know to ignore the front of labels, to avoid prominently displayed store displays and to never buy anything just because it says "healthy" "whole grain" "fat free" "gluten free" "low carb" "high protein" or whatever the trendy health buzz-word of the week is. There is an entire industry out there preying on people like me, who want to eat healthy but struggle to find the healthy options that provide the equivalent of the good feelings our former unhealthy favorites gave us. Thankfully, there are enough companies and organizations out there that really do want to help people succeed, the trick is learning to tell the legit from the fakers, and finding enough healthy replacement options to keep you on track when those really tough temptations come calling.
My relationship with food will always be a struggle for me. I will always want to eat too much of things I shouldn't, even though I am now fully aware of the detrimental effects they can have on my health. I will continue to try diligently to eat properly, while knowing that I am not perfect and will occasionally fail in this effort. I will not beat myself up over a temporary indulgence and will refuse to see such indulgence as an indicator of permanent failure. I know that I have come too far and learned too much to go back to my old ways. I still have a ways to go to reach my final weight loss goal, and each morning I wake up, I prepare myself to face the oncoming onslaught of food temptations and discouraging thoughts that I know are coming my way. But I am confident of my ability to finally and permanently beat this thing and live the life I was meant to have, healthy and strong. And no matter how many Taco Tuesday I have to endure, I know I can do it because I've already come this far.
Thank you again for reading! If you enjoy my posts, please feel free to repost on Facebook, send to friends, etc. I hate to ask but I'm trying to find an audience beyond my 12 or so devoted readers here, so please pimp me out to your friends if you think they will be encouraged.
Until next time...
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