A Journey of a Thousand Miles…

Forgive me, it has been more than a week since I’ve confessed my feelings on the blog. First, it was a short work week because of the recent holiday. Holidays are good, very, very good, because of course they mean NO WORK. However, it makes going back to work hard because now instead of trying to cram seven days’ worth of work into five, I was cramming seven days’ worth of work into four.  Without boring you to death, I did get a lot done over the long weekend, but doing so meant I didn’t get much of a chance to write.  Then on Tuesday I had the opportunity to go to dinner with friends, including TD, a friend I hadn’t seen in years and years and YEARS. Now, given the choice between staying home and writing and going out to spend time with friends, catching up and generally laughing ourselves silly, what do you think is the logical choice? Of COURSE it’s going out and laughing ourselves silly! Now that I think about it, the presence of some margaritas certainly aided the cause. I’m not a drinker, but the margaritas were so pretty… and somewhat lethal, as it turns out. I’m not a drinker– I usually average about a drink a year, but ended up having two margaritas in one night. Okay, I ended up starting on a third, I confess. That’s a LOT for me. Anyway, it turned out we got so busy yakking away that we never got around to having dinner, either! We ended up ordering an appetizer because we felt guilty about having drinks on empty stomachs. All in all, not the healthiest way to spend an evening, but you know what? It was completely worth it and I don’t regret a second of it, or a calorie that I consumed. It was wonderful getting to talk to TD again and she and SJ hadn’t ever met.

 

Then Wednesday and Thursday I worked out after work, and by the time I get home from working out and grab a bite to eat, I don’t have much time to write. Then Friday I tried my best to relax and rest up, because this past Saturday I did my first 5k! SJ and I had decided just about a month ago that we should do this. Actually, I don’t even remember what started this whole thing exactly, other than my getting my ass in gear in general to work out more. I believe it was SJ’s idea in the first place and I crazily thought “sure, I can do this, why the heck not?” So I told her I would if she would and we signed up for the race.

 

Now, you know I’m not athletic because I’ve already admitted I’m not, but keep in mind that I’ve NEVER been athletic. You remember how when you were a kid in elementary school there were kids who were just natural athletes? The ones who could run like the wind, or excel at things like the long jump without much effort? And the worst of the worst– the kids who could pass the fitness tests without even trying! Oooh, if you weren’t athletic like me didn’t you just want to smack ‘em? And if you WERE athletic and could do those things, please know that I wanted to smack you because of it. I’m sure you were my friend, but still, I wanted SO much to be naturally athletic like you. I don’t mean to sound all “woe is me,” not at all. I was lucky– I wasn’t ever the one picked last for a team (thank goodness), because I had plenty of friends who would choose me and I wasn’t the worst of the worst athletically. I ran and jumped and played sports with everyone at recess and in PE, but I never came in first in a race, and I certainly didn’t excel at basketball, or baseball, or dodgeball, or ANYthing-ball for that matter. Okay, I was REALLY good at four-square. I totally ruled four-square; I was the four-square QUEEN! But other than that, I think I probably just would’ve been voted Most Likely to Injure Herself (um, there were incidents involving tether ball and not getting out of the way fast enough that are pretty funny now but left bruises back then). Then starting in junior high, if you don’t participate in sports, you just get less and less organized exercise. It gets easier and easier NOT to do much exercise from then on as you get older unless you stumble across something you really enjoy like running or cycling.

 

In any case, SJ and I decided that we could definitely walk the 5k, no problem.  I was a little worried because SJ walks several miles every morning, but my workouts are indoors and don’t involve walking. It’s odd, isn’t it, how even though someone can do cardio-intense workouts indoors, walking uses muscles in a completely different way? That’s what I was a little worried about– I knew I could finish, I just wasn’t sure that I’d be able to keep up with SJ and I wasn’t sure how I’d feel walking a 5k outdoors.

 

The happy news is that TD decided to join me and SJ in the 5K! Woo-hoo, another team member! On the other hand, she did the Danskin Triathlon this past June, so I felt a little intimidated. Would I be able to keep up with HER, too? Mind you, I have short legs to begin with, so I’m already at a disadvantage against one regular walker and one person who’s done a triathlon. I mean, my gosh, she bikes AND runs AND swims? How can I keep up with that?

 

(A side note for your amusement: being girls, we had to decide what to wear to the race. The official race t-shirts were tye-dyed, which is frankly gross. Hideous. Awful. Nasty. Yucky. Nobody looks good in tye-dye. Nope, sorry, they DON’T, do not attempt to argue with me. People may think they do, but I suspect they may have indulged in some mild hallucinogenic substances that rendered them susceptible to even wearing tye-dye in the first place. Tye-dye just makes me think of a really sweaty Jerry Garcia. Blecchhhh. So what to wear? We decided to wear pink t-shirts, so we all went out and bought our nifty pink t-shirts. Then at roughly 8:00 the night before the race, SJ has a wardrobe crisis and decides that she looks perfectly awful in pink and is going to wear all black to the race, and oh, by the way, she’s not going to wear shorts in public. Great. A few emails fly back and forth, but SJ ended up wearing black and TD and I went ahead and wore our pink shirts and looked like big ol’ pink Peeps next to her. Pretty darned cute Peeps, sure, but pink Peeps nonetheless.)

 

And can you believe it, after months and months of extremely little rain (we’re in what’s at least a 30 year drought), it started raining Friday. It rained on and off all day, then Friday night a steady rain started. It rained all night– I should know, I woke up at 12:45, at 2:30, at 4:30, etc. I think I was nervous about oversleeping. I couldn’t believe that every time I woke up, it was still raining. We’ve had a couple of short thunderstorms this summer, but it hasn’t rained like this since I don’t know when. Never having been in a race before, I didn’t know if the race would end up getting called off for bad weather. Silly me, apparently races DON’T get called for bad weather, ever. So off we go to the race at 7:00 am. It was still raining steadily, so TD brought lovely clear trash bags for us to wear so we wouldn’t get soaked. The race organizers encourage people to run in costume, so there were lots of people to look at while we waited in our fancy-schmancy trash bags for the race to start. There were several pirates, a banana, lots of people in grass skirts, some wrestlers, even a really skinny sumo wrestler. I’d love to know how he felt running in what was pretty much a small diaper and a plastic headpiece that just could NOT have been comfortable. There was one guy I really wish I could’ve taken a picture of. He was wearing a Tigger costume. Granted, it wasn’t 100 degrees, but it was still in the high 80s and raining. I cannot begin to imagine what he looked/smelled like after the race, yuck.

The race was supposed to start at 8:00, but got started around 8:10-8:15 or so. We had moved over to the right to stay out of the runners’ ways (does that sound right? To get the heck out of the way of all the people who were faster than us), but you know what? Everyone running off at the start of the race was so infectious that we ended up starting out running, too, yay for us!

 

That’s a HUGE deal, for me, at least. For the last couple of weeks, every time I walked on the treadmill to warm up for a workout, I would try to run a few minutes, then a few minutes more, then a few minutes more to build up some stamina. Still, like I said, it’s different on a treadmill than outdoors. But I was doing it, I was running and keeping up with SJ and TD! I think the rain actually ended up helping, since the temperature was much cooler than it would’ve been otherwise. The temperature was nice, but walking/running in trash bags made us really warm after a while. We ended up ditching them at the first water station in favor of being cooler but getting wet. And since we ditched the improvised rain gear, I’m grateful we didn’t wear the tye-dyed t-shirts. With the rain and all, everyone really did end up looking like really sweaty Jerry Garcias. Getting rained on wasn’t so much fun, though, since it made using my iPhone really difficult. Yes, I admit I had my phone with me because I wanted to take pictures along the way. Hey, it was my first 5k, I wanted to document it!

 

We ran for a while, then slowed back down to a fairly quick walk because there was a hill toward the beginning of the course. And isn’t it amazing how hilly streets seem to be when you’re walking or running compared to when you drive on them? Mile one seemed to take the longest, but I couldn’t get a picture of the mile marker because I think my phone was too wet. I admit I got a little tired of carrying the phone in my hand where it was getting rained on, so I stuck it in my sports bra. I apparently called and/or texted several people during and immediately after the race, not sure how exactly, but I apologize if I boob-called you early on a rainy Saturday morning.

 

During the race we passed some people and some people passed us by, but all in all I think we did pretty well. Between miles 1 and 2 there was one participant I told TD and SJ we HAD to pass. I feel a little guilty, but right after the first turn I noticed a woman in a wheelchair who had one leg ahead of us, and I told the others “guys, we HAVE to be able to pass at least her, PLEASE!” I mean, Lord love her and how gutsy IS she even doing the race, but I just had to be able to do the race faster than she could! I didn’t mind getting passed up by senior citizens who were in obviously far better shape than I am, not at all.  And okay, there were kids running with their parents who zoomed past us. And a couple of blind, three-legged dogs. But I just would’ve felt really gosh-darned pitiful if a one-legged woman in a wheelchair had been able to stay ahead of me, God forgive me for thinking that. We passed her, thank goodness.

 

Not only did I think slightly uncharitable thoughts about a one-legged woman in a wheelchair, I admit that during the race I was thinking again about how impatient I am to be in better shape. Yes, I’ve lost some weight, but gosh I confess being around all those thin, fit people yesterday made me impatient again– I want to be back in a size 6 right now! Now, now, now! Yes, there were some out of shape people there, too, so I didn’t feel like I stuck out like a store thumb, but still. And then somewhere between miles 2 and 3 I got a sign. No really, I got a SIGN. Literally, a sign! I hope I can get the picture posted. There it was, bigger than life, telling me to be PATIENT. I don’t remember where on Congress Avenue the building is, or what type of business it was, and now I’m wondering why on earth they had just that one word on their marquee, but I guess the only bigger sign would’ve been if it had fallen and bonked me on my impatient head. So there ya go. I’m supposed to be P-A-T-I-E-N-T.

 

We ran a couple of more times (and passed more people, how exciting is that!), but I had to walk again after the titanium plate on my ankle started hurting. It must’ve been partly because of the weather, partly because I was running on pavement, but now I’m more determined than ever to have the surgery and recover so that I don’t have to worry about that anymore. I wanna do more 5ks!

 

I did pause to take a picture of the 3 mile marker, but right after that we ran the rest of the way (only 1/10th of a mile, but HEY, it was at the end of a race in bad weather). Being us, we made sure to smile and look good for the photographer as we turned the last corner. And yes, we reminded each other out loud to smile and look good and energetic. I’ll have to go look for those pictures later; I hope at least one turned out decently well. I was farthest away from him, so I may not really be in them at all. If that happens, I’ll still have evidence that I did the 5k because at the end of the race SJ ran ahead of us so she could turn back and get a picture of me and TD crossing the finish line. My first thought when I saw it was (of course) that it’s not a great picture of me. Seriously, I look so BAD in baseball caps, is there something not right about the shape of my head? Then there’s the whole soaking-wet-t-shirt-can-tell-my-sports-bra-is-black-because-of-the-pouring-rain thing, but then I thought about it. You know what? I finished a 5k, y’all! I didn’t run the whole thing, but I got up at 5:45 on a Saturday, showed up in bad weather, ran part of it and kept up, and I FINISHED the darn thing. A journey of a thousand miles begins with a half-walked, half-run 5k. We did it! Hooray for us! TD and SJ, we ROCK, you know that? Thanks SO MUCH for doing the race with me. Piggles, wish you could’ve been with us. All of your support and encouragement means more than you could ever know and I love you guys! I’m going to go cry now….

 

And of all the dumb things, you know what I think might be the biggest measurement of how much I’ve done in the last few months? Partly it was that I was in public in running shorts, for one thing. That’s freaking HUGE. Huge, I tell you! No, it’s that as I was walking/running in the race, I realized that I wasn’t absolutely miserable because my thighs were rubbing together. I can’t believe I just admitted that, but nope, I was okay thigh-wise. I mean, I’m NOT okay thigh-wise in general, I don’t like them very much and I gotta lose a lot more weight, but my thighs weren’t rubbing together and making me crazy! That’s major, major, major!

 

 

Next month there’s a 5 mile race that we’re talking about doing, and just this morning someone brought up something called an adventure race that takes something like 3-5 hours!?? I’ll have to Google it to see what exactly this is, but I think we’ve collectively started a monster…

P.S. For those who’ve asked how the weight loss is going: after two irritating, incredibly frustrating weeks of not losing any weight (didn’t gain, but didn’t lose), I finally lost some weight. I weighed in on Friday and lost 2 pounds, 4 ounces. Not as much as I’d like, but I’ll TAKE IT.

And now I’m going to try to load pictures from the race. I hope this works!

 

SJ shows off her fancy rain gear before the race.

There were lots of bathrobes and lots of really fit people at the race start.

Just because I liked the t-shirt.

More weirdos behind us at the start line. I sure hope that guy's facial hair is part of his costume and not real.

2/3 of the way through the race. Of course, I guess we could've driven to this point so I could get the picture.

Amy's Ice Cream water and ice cream station.

A REALLY big reminder...

Just about finished with my first 5k. The photographer is on the far right. I wonder if he got any good pictures of us looking cool and calm, yet energetic.

42 pounds and 18 ounces

Patience: The capacity, habit, or fact of being patient.

Hmmm, not exactly what I’m looking for. Let’s look up patient: patient (adjective): 1. bearing pains or trials calmly or without complaint; 2. manifesting forbearance under provocation or strain; 3. not hasty or impetuous; 4. definitely not Laura.

So I admit that I’ve always known I’m NOT the most patient person in the world, but last week when I weighed myself, I realized maybe I’m underestimating just how very impatient I really am. Okay, there’s no maybe, I know I’m underestimating, but what I really want to know is why I’m so impatient. I’m not going figure out the answer to that one right away, but it did get me thinking not only about impatience, but about unrealistic expectations, too. And isn’t it funny how when you start to think about something, things related to it seem to pop up? I had been working on this post for a few days, and a couple of people started pestering me about it, asking when it would be up. I just answered “patience, please, I’m working on it.” Good to know I’m not the only impatient person around. Then yesterday a Facebook friend’s status was also related to patience. All you have to do is start pondering something and it appears everywhere, I swear! Anyway, his status was that we should learn the art of patience, because impatience breeds anxiety, fear, discouragement, and failure. Patience, on the other hand, creates confidence, decisiveness, and a rational outlook, which eventually leads to success. I forgot to ask him where he got that, but it definitely rings true for me. It hit me pretty hard this past week how very impatient I can be and moreover, how if I’m not careful, I could end up becoming discouraged because I have such high expectations of myself.

I weigh myself once a week, on Friday mornings. Anyone who’s tried to lose weight knows the drill– once a week is the limit for weighing yourself because daily fluctuations can be too discouraging. This past Friday when I weighed myself, though, I not only didn’t lose any weight, I gained eighteen ounces (somehow eighteen ounces sounds so much less offensive than one pound, two ounces, don’t you think? I think so). I was so shocked I must’ve weighed myself  5 or 6 times before I accepted the bad news. And yes, I shoved the scale around, hoping I’d just lost the “sweet spot.” For the first time since I started this lifestyle change (it’s not a diet, it’s not a diet, it’s not a diet) in June, I didn’t lose any weight! Until now, I’d been really fortunate. There have been weeks that I didn’t lose much, maybe 2 pounds, but there hasn’t been a week I didn’t lose. Needless to say, I was devastated. Abso-freaking-lutely devastated. Undone. Destroyed. Willpower crushed. You name it the negative emotion, I felt it. What did I do wrong? What didn’t I do that I’ve done for the past couple of months? How could I have let this happen? I beat myself up for a few hours, and it took me the better part of the day, but I calmed down and after thinking about it, came to terms with it. I think. I mean, it’s still irritating, but I can live with it. (Like I have a choice.)

Just as a check (and because I couldn’t stand it anymore), I weighed myself again on Saturday morning. A no-no, I know, but I just had to check to see if Friday was a fluke.  You know what? The eighteen ounces were gone again. I was back where I started, which is better than losing even a little ground. I’m trying (trying oh, so very hard) to look at things as learning opportunities instead of screaming opportunities, so I thought about what I could possibly learn from this.

I could learn to disregard the dietician who told me that I actually needed to eat more calories every day. Sure, but that would  probably come back to bite me in a couple of months when I’d be not just exhausted but absolutely exhausted and pretty darned close to completely losing my mind (because Lord knows I’m halfway there already!). I could decide to take it as needing to work out more, but no, I work out five times a week, which is more than fine. Or… is the lesson patience, maybe? Maybe it’s going to take longer than I want to get where I want to be, and maybe I should learn to accept that some weeks I won’t lose weight, or as much as I want to. I need to remember that this is a process and to remember what I’ve accomplished so far. 

At least I can admit I have a problem, which as you know is half the battle. Do me a favor and don’t ask the question I’ve already asked myself a thousand times: why on earth would I expect to be able to do something that is so difficult for so many people so quickly and effortlessly? It makes no sense, I know, considering how long I sat around on my fat ass doing nothing to stay healthy and in shape. But now that I’ve started, I want the weight off NOW, I want to be back to a size 6 NOW, I want everything NOW! I know I have to learn to be patient, but I want to be patient NOW!

Unfortunately, impatience is nothing new. I also tend to expect perfection from myself in every way, which logically I know is silly. I can’t help doing it, though. Nobody’s perfect, nobody loses weight every single week and never ever has a setback. It reminded me of when I broke my leg. I didn’t do it doing anything fun or exciting  (I tell people I was rescuing small children from a burning building), I was just walking across the front walk of the elementary school where I did volunteer work. I slipped on a patch of ice that was hidden underneath some snow, and the next thing I knew, I was flat on my back staring at a beautiful clear winter sky, wondering why my leg was on fire, and not realizing how my life had just changed. It was the absolute pits–it was winter in Chicago, I had to have surgery, and recuperation was a pain–basically lying around for weeks waiting for the bone to heal. I remember the day I went to get the cast taken off–I was so excited at the thought of being able to walk again. Re-read that carefully. For some reason, I had it in my head that I’d be able to walk out of the surgeon’s office on my own. Sure, I’d need the protective boot and I’d be walking with a limp, but I was so sure I’d be walking out of there. The cast was sawed off, the final x-ray was taken, the staples were pulled out, the boot put on, and the surgeon said “okay, you’re all done.” I slid off the exam table onto my feet, ready to stroll out the door … and promptly fell flat on my face. No exaggeration whatsoever, I really did end up on the floor (and in a lot of pain, by the way).

I had just seen for myself a few minutes prior how atrophied my leg muscles were, and I had just been shocked at how shrunken and meager my calf looked (yes, I wanted thinner legs, but even I thought that was a little too thin), but somehow I just thought that 10 weeks in a cast wouldn’t affect me. Not the way it would anybody else, at least. I mean, I wanted to WALK. I wanted to, so why couldn’t I? The surgeon walked over to me with a pair of crutches, looked at me on the floor, and said “um… you’re going to need these, though.” Yeah, I did need those crutches for a while, even though I was hoping I’d be that miracle patient who could walk out of there unaided. Not only did I need the crutches, I needed physical therapy, too. THAT was difficult and at times so painful I swore I’d never go back for another session. But I knew that if I wanted to re-learn to walk correctly, I had to use the crutches, had to do my therapy exercises, and had to be patient while my muscles were rebuilding.

So yeah, I know that if I want to lose weight for good, I can’t just will it, and I can’t take shortcuts. I’m going to have to go through the workout sessions, and I’m going to have to eat right from now on (it’s not a diet, it’s not a diet, it’s not a diet). I have a coworker who’s on the grapefruit diet, and I sometimes envy him, sometimes pity him. I envy him because he has one whole item to shop for at the grocery store. I, however, have opted for the slower, more difficult way — nothing is forbidden (it’s not a diet, it’s not a diet, it’s not a diet, you know) since it’s a lifestyle change. I envy him because he has one decision to make every day: eat the damed grapefruit. I have 100 every day: cook for myself or give in to fast food; choose something that will help me get where I want to go or choose poorly and suffer a setback (why do I picture Yoda sitting in the ice cream freezer [on top of the pistachio, of course] at HEB saying “there is no try, only do. No ice cream.” Fine, Yoda, no ice cream today.) His weight loss has been faster and easier than mine, but I know in the long run I’ll be better off. I also feel for him in a way, because he could lose it any time and start scarfing down everything in sight. I mean, what a crappy way to live, just eating one food over and over. I may be overweight, but the thought of eating one food all the time is kind of sad, don’t you think?

So I started thinking about what I have accomlished since June. As of last Saturday, I’ve lost just over 42 pounds. I hadn’t really thought about it in terms of what 42 pounds is really like, so Monday morning at the gym I went over to the dumbbells and picked up a 40 pound weight. You know what? I’ve lost some weight! That puppy was heavy. It gets so easy to lose track of what it adds up to when you think of it in “just” 3 or 4 or 5 pound increments. And I can run on the treadmill without gasping for air and feeling like I’m going to die, and my trainer does sometimes say “nope, that weight’s too light for you, you’re ready to increase it again.” I have bicep muscles, people! My stamina has increased quite a bit thanks to the bootcamp sessions every week.  I guess I have managed to accomplish something this summer. I know I’m only part way there, but yes, it did help with the patience thing when I really thought about it. It didn’t take 3 months to gain all the weight, and it’s not going to take 3 months to take it off, either.

Oh! And I would have the one orthopedic surgeon in Chicago who didn’t believe in removing the hardware after the broken bone had healed. I’ve had a titanium plate and pins in my left leg for years and I’ve had it with being able to forecast the weather because they’re still in there. I’m planning on getting them taken out in December, and I admit I’m a little apprehensive. What if I can’t walk or run right away? What if I can’t get back to exercising as soon as I want to afterward? What if I GAIN WEIGHT? (I know, patience, don’t worry about it right now). As difficult and inconvenient as it might be, I know in the long run it’ll be worth it because my leg won’t hurt as much when the weather changes. Getting back to being physically able to do a lot of exercising will be tough, though worth it in the end. Kind of like getting healthier and back to my ideal weight is tough, but definitely worth it, too.