In a bow to proper nutrition, I decided to join the legions of people who smash up crazy stuff in a blender and call it breakfast. Apparently, kale is a miracle food, right up there with Ambrosia, and so perhaps proper nutrition will give me the energy boost I am craving.
I was resistant. I resisted protein shakes at first, too, but those turned out to be tasty enough and good for me, so now I'm a convert. Maybe the crazy green shakes will be, too? I invested in a blender to find out.
It takes some experimentation to get something edible if you include kale. Now, kale is a perfectly tasty vegetable, but I'm personally not jonesing for strong-tasting greens first thing in the morning.
Still, I'm always game for an experiment. I also decided that for two days I would eat crazy healthy, just to see what would happen. At one point, I thought, hmm, cookies would be tasty, and then easily eschewed them for the sake of science. I did not want to mess up my experiment.
So, let me tell you, the green shakes look like a delicious chemical-laden mint shake from a famous fast food place... and smell like a lawn.
I put in Chobani Greek yogurt, banana, blueberries, coconut water, spinach and kale. And cinnamon, because cinnamon is awesome. On the advice of my trainer, this morning I added protein powder. Since my only protein powder is chocolate, the shakes are now the color of evil. But, chocolate is a welcome addition to anything, so it greatly improved the taste.
I've been blessed with lots of suggestions for shake recipes from the advocates, so I have a lot to play with.
It has been a fairly easy adjustment. It takes longer to drink one of these shakes, due to texture, than it does to gulp down yogurt or eggs, so I have to account for that in the morning. I walk around the house getting ready, shake in hand, Roxy eying it enviously, as she does anything not placed in her food bowl. She is also color-blind, being a dog and all. Since it is completely grain-free, I could totally give her some. Maybe I will tomorrow morning, just to see what happens.
I've become assiduous about brushing my teeth, to avoid seeing green specks stuck in unattractive places.
I actually avoided napping for the first time in weeks this past Saturday and Sunday, so maybe there is something to this nutrition thing.
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Sunday, February 24, 2013
Adipose As Armor
A few people know that I've been a bit frustrated with the fact that I've not lost any weight in the last year. I'm still basically the same size, although I'm able to do more physically, so it feels so puzzling and frustrating.
Throughout it all, my Roxanne has just calmly repeated, when your body is ready to let go of the extra fat, it will. Just keep doing what you're doing and try to improve the nutrition! (I mean, for honesty's sake, I never overeat in terms of calories, but quite a few of those calories come from cookies!)
In keeping with this honesty thing, I admit I feel safer when there is a buffer between me and the world. Extra fat is really serving as a kind of armor, helping me avoid attention, be a bit numb to my surroundings... and when I am being painfully honest, keeping men at bay. I am quite talented in choosing men for relationships where there can be no long-term survival -either we are badly matched, or life circumstances are insurmountable, or they are jerks. It was an unconscious sort of fear for quite a while and really difficult to admit I was doing that, however unintentionally.
So Friday night I was contemplating some stuff from earlier in the day, and having experienced some frustration with my imperfect body, started going through my meditation of thanking God for my strong, resilient body He gifted me, and thanking my body for everything it allows me to do. I held up to God my frustration with not losing any more weight, and then it struck me.
I had not lost any weight this past year because I didn't want to. Most of this past year I have felt off-balance and frankly, unsafe in a number of ways.
This revelation hit me like a wall: I am perfectly safe. The stuff from so long ago that sat in the back of my head whispered, "Oh yeah, you've had a nice run, but at any moment, things will fall apart, and then it is all pain and violence and fear. Without constant vigilance and having your defenses up all the time, your past IS your future!" That all seemingly dissipated. I'm not sure when that happened, maybe just a couple days ago.
I laid there on the bed in wonderment. I mean, I really AM safe. Nothing is going to hurt me. There was so much plain relief in that revelation I actually cried a bit. I could see in my mind's eye how much my body had been struggling this past year, torn between wanting to live up to my dreams and being weighed down by my fear. I could actually see this extra fat as armor I simply wasn't letting go of.
My body did its job. It made me feel safer.
In perfect peace, I said, "It's okay, I'm safe now, I can let you go" and this peacefulness came over me, and I finally understood, in calm acceptance, that that old fear was really gone, and my body doesn't have to bridge that gap anymore, between reality and fear.
So, I am very interested to see what this next year brings, with a calm sense of rightness about it all.
Throughout it all, my Roxanne has just calmly repeated, when your body is ready to let go of the extra fat, it will. Just keep doing what you're doing and try to improve the nutrition! (I mean, for honesty's sake, I never overeat in terms of calories, but quite a few of those calories come from cookies!)
In keeping with this honesty thing, I admit I feel safer when there is a buffer between me and the world. Extra fat is really serving as a kind of armor, helping me avoid attention, be a bit numb to my surroundings... and when I am being painfully honest, keeping men at bay. I am quite talented in choosing men for relationships where there can be no long-term survival -either we are badly matched, or life circumstances are insurmountable, or they are jerks. It was an unconscious sort of fear for quite a while and really difficult to admit I was doing that, however unintentionally.
So Friday night I was contemplating some stuff from earlier in the day, and having experienced some frustration with my imperfect body, started going through my meditation of thanking God for my strong, resilient body He gifted me, and thanking my body for everything it allows me to do. I held up to God my frustration with not losing any more weight, and then it struck me.
I had not lost any weight this past year because I didn't want to. Most of this past year I have felt off-balance and frankly, unsafe in a number of ways.
This revelation hit me like a wall: I am perfectly safe. The stuff from so long ago that sat in the back of my head whispered, "Oh yeah, you've had a nice run, but at any moment, things will fall apart, and then it is all pain and violence and fear. Without constant vigilance and having your defenses up all the time, your past IS your future!" That all seemingly dissipated. I'm not sure when that happened, maybe just a couple days ago.
I laid there on the bed in wonderment. I mean, I really AM safe. Nothing is going to hurt me. There was so much plain relief in that revelation I actually cried a bit. I could see in my mind's eye how much my body had been struggling this past year, torn between wanting to live up to my dreams and being weighed down by my fear. I could actually see this extra fat as armor I simply wasn't letting go of.
My body did its job. It made me feel safer.
In perfect peace, I said, "It's okay, I'm safe now, I can let you go" and this peacefulness came over me, and I finally understood, in calm acceptance, that that old fear was really gone, and my body doesn't have to bridge that gap anymore, between reality and fear.
So, I am very interested to see what this next year brings, with a calm sense of rightness about it all.
Friday, February 22, 2013
Life and Weight and Saying I'm Sorry
I feel like I have been tired for MONTHS. My patience is waning, both with myself and outside circumstances and other people.
One of my downline staff got to be the focal point for my irritation yesterday, which of course spiralled out to other people... and several people spent the day in angst and defensiveness that I was upset about something -especially since it wasn't something that was anyone's FAULT. I wanted to throw my hands up in the air and just let them stew and be mad and then I would just ignore them and get on with WORK! As it was, since I had taken sick leave, I just curled up with my dog and slept.
So, this morning, I got to start the day walking around apologizing to people -first to the staff member I got sharp with, then with the peripheral staff who were involved. One of them said to me, "We TOLD M--- you weren't really mad, you were just not feeling good, because you never do this sort of thing!" I was happy to hear my reputation is one of reasonable level-headedness and kindness, which of course, made me feel even worse for not living up to how I am generally regarded! Still, yesterday several people were made upset for no good reason, and I was the cause. So, an apology was in order, and accepted and I think we have all let go and moved on.
This is life, really. Acknowledging my mishaps and taking ownership, making amends when possible, always expressing the need for forgiveness, hoping that the person will take me back in.
And this is faith, really. Standing in front of a loving and forgiving God, acknowledging the times I "miss the mark" and trusting that this eternal Love will forgive and take me back in.
And when I think about it, this is how we ought to relate to taking loving care of ourselves. Sometimes, we miss the mark -either by not treating food in proper perspective, or negativity in how we see our bodies or exercise, or rest, or medical needs or meditation, prayer, the needs we have for beauty and nature and peace and companionship and activity.
Even after all this time working on being kinder to myself, I still sometimes look in a mirror and cringe. If I let those thoughts sit with me, I then make so many decisions based on that feeling of shame, rather than the love I owe myself, and that so many of friends and family model for me. I mean, not one of my friends would ever say to me, "Dang, AmyAnne, your arms are so awful!! Can you fly with those bat wings??"
So, one thing I was taught, and still need to do sometimes, is spend active meditation time thanking God for my body, and thanking my body for being so strong and resilient and healthy. And spending some time forgiving myself for being impatient with myself, for making poor choices when it comes to food and activity -and then letting it go, instead of letting it simmer and lead to more poor choices.
Forgiveness is about letting go. Letting go is about freedom.
Then freedom opens us to the new opportunities right in front of us.
One of my downline staff got to be the focal point for my irritation yesterday, which of course spiralled out to other people... and several people spent the day in angst and defensiveness that I was upset about something -especially since it wasn't something that was anyone's FAULT. I wanted to throw my hands up in the air and just let them stew and be mad and then I would just ignore them and get on with WORK! As it was, since I had taken sick leave, I just curled up with my dog and slept.
So, this morning, I got to start the day walking around apologizing to people -first to the staff member I got sharp with, then with the peripheral staff who were involved. One of them said to me, "We TOLD M--- you weren't really mad, you were just not feeling good, because you never do this sort of thing!" I was happy to hear my reputation is one of reasonable level-headedness and kindness, which of course, made me feel even worse for not living up to how I am generally regarded! Still, yesterday several people were made upset for no good reason, and I was the cause. So, an apology was in order, and accepted and I think we have all let go and moved on.
This is life, really. Acknowledging my mishaps and taking ownership, making amends when possible, always expressing the need for forgiveness, hoping that the person will take me back in.
And this is faith, really. Standing in front of a loving and forgiving God, acknowledging the times I "miss the mark" and trusting that this eternal Love will forgive and take me back in.
And when I think about it, this is how we ought to relate to taking loving care of ourselves. Sometimes, we miss the mark -either by not treating food in proper perspective, or negativity in how we see our bodies or exercise, or rest, or medical needs or meditation, prayer, the needs we have for beauty and nature and peace and companionship and activity.
Even after all this time working on being kinder to myself, I still sometimes look in a mirror and cringe. If I let those thoughts sit with me, I then make so many decisions based on that feeling of shame, rather than the love I owe myself, and that so many of friends and family model for me. I mean, not one of my friends would ever say to me, "Dang, AmyAnne, your arms are so awful!! Can you fly with those bat wings??"
So, one thing I was taught, and still need to do sometimes, is spend active meditation time thanking God for my body, and thanking my body for being so strong and resilient and healthy. And spending some time forgiving myself for being impatient with myself, for making poor choices when it comes to food and activity -and then letting it go, instead of letting it simmer and lead to more poor choices.
Forgiveness is about letting go. Letting go is about freedom.
Then freedom opens us to the new opportunities right in front of us.
Monday, February 18, 2013
The Real Secret to Weight Loss
I've had some decent success with weight loss, and I occasionally get the question, "What's your secret?"
People are curious and I like sharing because I learned so much cool information along the way. But I do notice the difference between the folks who ask, "What was your process?" and the folks who ask, "What was your secret?"
Here is what I did NOT do:
Any kind of surgery
Any kind of diet that came in book form
Anything that promised Fast Results
Pharmacological appetite suppressants
Anything requiring the use of magic
Here is how I started:
Decided to look at my health issues as a puzzle to be solved, removing judgment as much as possible.
Prayed and asked God for direction and help.
Got an amazing therapist who is helping me get past the thinking that created the weight gain.
Got an awesome registered dietitian to help me learn about food. Everyone thinks they know about food, and hardly anyone actually does.
Got an awesome trainer who helped me learn that activity is fun and be all encouraging and stuff.
Already had awesome, amazing friends who were super supportive.
So, the real secret to weight loss is: There Is No Secret!
Here is how I do it:
Eat sensibly for the most part, with occasional forays into junk food.
Exercise with a passion put to use in my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith (for the EBB fans among us)
Staying away from scales as much as I can just because they only tell half-truths.
Remembering to take vitamins and meds.
Try to develop the habit of kindness toward myself.
I started out trying to lose weight, and then as time went on realized that the weight loss was really just a side effect of learning how to take loving care of myself.
So now, instead of thinking in terms of size and weight, I am measuring progress in terms of what I can do now, and what I want to do next.
I can run and not feel stupid and awkward.
I can plan meals ahead of time.
I can make healthy food choices with whatever is in front of me.
I can feel good and happy and sweaty and gross all at the same time.
I can pick up really heavy things.
I have the energy to do everything I want to do.
I can wake up at 5AM, work out for an hour and get to work on time, and awake.
People are curious and I like sharing because I learned so much cool information along the way. But I do notice the difference between the folks who ask, "What was your process?" and the folks who ask, "What was your secret?"
Here is what I did NOT do:
Any kind of surgery
Any kind of diet that came in book form
Anything that promised Fast Results
Pharmacological appetite suppressants
Anything requiring the use of magic
Here is how I started:
Decided to look at my health issues as a puzzle to be solved, removing judgment as much as possible.
Prayed and asked God for direction and help.
Got an amazing therapist who is helping me get past the thinking that created the weight gain.
Got an awesome registered dietitian to help me learn about food. Everyone thinks they know about food, and hardly anyone actually does.
Got an awesome trainer who helped me learn that activity is fun and be all encouraging and stuff.
Already had awesome, amazing friends who were super supportive.
So, the real secret to weight loss is: There Is No Secret!
Here is how I do it:
Eat sensibly for the most part, with occasional forays into junk food.
Exercise with a passion put to use in my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith (for the EBB fans among us)
Staying away from scales as much as I can just because they only tell half-truths.
Remembering to take vitamins and meds.
Try to develop the habit of kindness toward myself.
I started out trying to lose weight, and then as time went on realized that the weight loss was really just a side effect of learning how to take loving care of myself.
So now, instead of thinking in terms of size and weight, I am measuring progress in terms of what I can do now, and what I want to do next.
I can run and not feel stupid and awkward.
I can plan meals ahead of time.
I can make healthy food choices with whatever is in front of me.
I can feel good and happy and sweaty and gross all at the same time.
I can pick up really heavy things.
I have the energy to do everything I want to do.
I can wake up at 5AM, work out for an hour and get to work on time, and awake.
Friday, February 15, 2013
Two Old Guys at the Track
So my Valentine's dates last night were two old guys. We had a date to go to the track meet so they could explain how track and field works, since I have not a clue.
One gentleman, we shall call him Harris, is a person I know through work. I met "Fred" last night because he and Harris have been friends lo these past 20 years, and both are avid track and field fans.
I spent the evening laughing so hard my abs hurt. Turns out Fred used to be a referee or judge or whatever you call people who determine the winners of races, so he was full of knowledge he was just waiting to lay down on a young lady's ears! (Young, of course, is a matter of perspective. When you are 87 years old, everyone must seem young!)
Harris inquired as to how my 5k in Sedona went, and asked me my time. I shared it and said, well, it wasn't great, and Fred interrupted and said, "That is fantastic! Did you finish??? Then you did good, girl!!"
Then he added, "Really, you aren't built for distance running, anyway. Gotta be compact for that. If you were on my team, I'd put you in shot put or javelin. I bet you're really strong, aren't you?" I nodded modestly. He got even more enthusiastic, "See, that's it -look at those girls doing shot put! Big, strong girls! That's 12 pounds they are throwing! Gotta be strong for that! The distance runners can't do shot put. Go with your strengths!!"
They took turns talking about the runners and the coaches and what to look for and how things are measured. I learned so much from them! Harris was concerned I might be hungry and kept offering me apples. They took very good care of me!
I was amazed watching these student athletes shine at their sport! The hurdles especially -but also the high jump, pole vault, oh, everything was fascinating. I got to see one of our Olympians, Diego Estrada, run the 5K in 13:37, placing him second to our whole country's best-ever record. (also, btw, over three times faster than me!!)
As Fred tried to convince me I ought to start thinking about competing in weightlifting, and I assured him that is a process that would play far too well into my talent for making myself crazy, I had to admit, I wondered how far I'd be able to throw 12 pounds.
Hmmmm...
This was possibly my best Valentine's day ever.
One gentleman, we shall call him Harris, is a person I know through work. I met "Fred" last night because he and Harris have been friends lo these past 20 years, and both are avid track and field fans.
I spent the evening laughing so hard my abs hurt. Turns out Fred used to be a referee or judge or whatever you call people who determine the winners of races, so he was full of knowledge he was just waiting to lay down on a young lady's ears! (Young, of course, is a matter of perspective. When you are 87 years old, everyone must seem young!)
Harris inquired as to how my 5k in Sedona went, and asked me my time. I shared it and said, well, it wasn't great, and Fred interrupted and said, "That is fantastic! Did you finish??? Then you did good, girl!!"
Then he added, "Really, you aren't built for distance running, anyway. Gotta be compact for that. If you were on my team, I'd put you in shot put or javelin. I bet you're really strong, aren't you?" I nodded modestly. He got even more enthusiastic, "See, that's it -look at those girls doing shot put! Big, strong girls! That's 12 pounds they are throwing! Gotta be strong for that! The distance runners can't do shot put. Go with your strengths!!"
They took turns talking about the runners and the coaches and what to look for and how things are measured. I learned so much from them! Harris was concerned I might be hungry and kept offering me apples. They took very good care of me!
I was amazed watching these student athletes shine at their sport! The hurdles especially -but also the high jump, pole vault, oh, everything was fascinating. I got to see one of our Olympians, Diego Estrada, run the 5K in 13:37, placing him second to our whole country's best-ever record. (also, btw, over three times faster than me!!)
As Fred tried to convince me I ought to start thinking about competing in weightlifting, and I assured him that is a process that would play far too well into my talent for making myself crazy, I had to admit, I wondered how far I'd be able to throw 12 pounds.
Hmmmm...
This was possibly my best Valentine's day ever.
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Love and Blessings and Stuff
I love love.
I also love cheesey B-list holidays, so I actually really like St. Valentine's Day, esp since I wised up a few years ago and just make appointments with my therapist that evening. Tonight, my plans are a date with one of my 87-year-old donors who is trying to explain his love for track and field (we are going to watch the Lumberjacks at their last home meet.) and running by Satchmo's for a quick dinner before meeting my Roxanne.
I brought in pretty sugar cookies for my colleagues and am stalking FB and enjoying everyone's lovely posts.
Love has played such a huge part of how amazing my life and my friends and my family are, and love is always something worth celebrating.
There is a bit of a cheesey song by Avalon... some of the lyrics are: As long as I shall live, I will testify to Love, I'll be a witness in the silences when words are not enough..."
I am so, so grateful for the people in my life who show such great love to me, and all the couples who love each other so much their love spills out on everyone around them, and all the people I know whose lives are lived in a constant expression of their love for others.
I'm getting teary thinking about the times when someone's love for me changed my life and the times my love for someone changed my life as well. Love can be messy and complicated and crazy and flawed, just like people... but it is still love. and all love is blessing, is gift, is life.
Thank you for letting your love pour out. I pray you have a beautiful St. Valentine's Day full of more love than you can handle.
I also love cheesey B-list holidays, so I actually really like St. Valentine's Day, esp since I wised up a few years ago and just make appointments with my therapist that evening. Tonight, my plans are a date with one of my 87-year-old donors who is trying to explain his love for track and field (we are going to watch the Lumberjacks at their last home meet.) and running by Satchmo's for a quick dinner before meeting my Roxanne.
I brought in pretty sugar cookies for my colleagues and am stalking FB and enjoying everyone's lovely posts.
Love has played such a huge part of how amazing my life and my friends and my family are, and love is always something worth celebrating.
There is a bit of a cheesey song by Avalon... some of the lyrics are: As long as I shall live, I will testify to Love, I'll be a witness in the silences when words are not enough..."
I am so, so grateful for the people in my life who show such great love to me, and all the couples who love each other so much their love spills out on everyone around them, and all the people I know whose lives are lived in a constant expression of their love for others.
I'm getting teary thinking about the times when someone's love for me changed my life and the times my love for someone changed my life as well. Love can be messy and complicated and crazy and flawed, just like people... but it is still love. and all love is blessing, is gift, is life.
Thank you for letting your love pour out. I pray you have a beautiful St. Valentine's Day full of more love than you can handle.
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Ashes 2 Ashes
Blessed Ash Wednesday!
It's the first day of Lent, and it cracks me up that the OFFICIAL name for Ash Wednesday is: Ash Wednesday! It would be like officially calling Easter "Resurrection Day," or Christmas "Jesus's Birthday." Heck, even Christmas is officially known as "The Nativity of the Lord" on the Catholic calendar.
Ash Wednesday is thusly called because all us fisheaters (although EVERYONE is welcome to come get ashed!!) get ashes placed on our foreheads as a sign of repentance and mortality of human flesh. The priest makes the sign of the cross on our foreheads with the ashes, but it never actually looks like a cross -more like a smudge from pressing your head against a dirty window. And yes, I WILL walk around all day like that.
When I was a kid, as the priest made the sign of the cross on our foreheads he would mutter, "Remember you are dust, and unto dust you shall return." Now they say, "Turn from sin and follow the Gospel." Lacks that Gothic sensibility I enjoy about being Catholic, but probably more in line with the whole Word of God.
So, Lent. I try to give up something, take on something, and pick a prayer discipline I don't often adhere to. The point of all of this isn't to lose weight or break bad habits, but to bring us closer to God. Really!
What shall I give up? I went through all the usual things and a few unusual ones, and settled on swearing. I'm giving up foul language for Lent. It is a misuse of the gift of speaking to be ugly with it.
Which brings me to what I am taking on. I am going to make a conscious effort to acknowledge and thank people for the things they do, thus using the gift of speech to lift others up.
I've been a bit a lackadaisical about Scripture reading, so I'm rededicating myself to reading the daily Mass readings.
So, now as you wander about today seeing lots of dirty foreheads -you know why!
It's the first day of Lent, and it cracks me up that the OFFICIAL name for Ash Wednesday is: Ash Wednesday! It would be like officially calling Easter "Resurrection Day," or Christmas "Jesus's Birthday." Heck, even Christmas is officially known as "The Nativity of the Lord" on the Catholic calendar.
Ash Wednesday is thusly called because all us fisheaters (although EVERYONE is welcome to come get ashed!!) get ashes placed on our foreheads as a sign of repentance and mortality of human flesh. The priest makes the sign of the cross on our foreheads with the ashes, but it never actually looks like a cross -more like a smudge from pressing your head against a dirty window. And yes, I WILL walk around all day like that.
When I was a kid, as the priest made the sign of the cross on our foreheads he would mutter, "Remember you are dust, and unto dust you shall return." Now they say, "Turn from sin and follow the Gospel." Lacks that Gothic sensibility I enjoy about being Catholic, but probably more in line with the whole Word of God.
So, Lent. I try to give up something, take on something, and pick a prayer discipline I don't often adhere to. The point of all of this isn't to lose weight or break bad habits, but to bring us closer to God. Really!
What shall I give up? I went through all the usual things and a few unusual ones, and settled on swearing. I'm giving up foul language for Lent. It is a misuse of the gift of speaking to be ugly with it.
Which brings me to what I am taking on. I am going to make a conscious effort to acknowledge and thank people for the things they do, thus using the gift of speech to lift others up.
I've been a bit a lackadaisical about Scripture reading, so I'm rededicating myself to reading the daily Mass readings.
So, now as you wander about today seeing lots of dirty foreheads -you know why!
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
30 Minutes of Self-Control
Well, it happened again... I got home last night tired, hungry, Roxy barking in that tone that can bend metal as I walked in the door... and I started scarfing cookies.
I had the very best of good intentions. I hadn't thought at all about what I was going to eat for dinner, but I have loads of healthy and tasty options. I knew I would get home and figure it out.
But the cookies were there. Right there. No prep needed.
Over the course of the evening, they disappeared as they are wont to do on such evenings. This is hardly the first time this has happened.
A couple/few hours later I got around to microwaving some home-made stew I keep on hand. Hardly got that down, as I had filled up on those cookies.
When I plan ahead, this rarely happens. Planning ahead is SUCH a pain, however.
So, last night (feeling slightly ill from the sugar OD) I pondered, okay, this is getting a bit out of hand. What can I do to at least make an EFFORT to prevent this?
I figure the first 30 minutes when I get home is crucial to my success. Before getting home, if I haven't written my food plan for the evening (yes, I know I am supposed to do that, but life happens!) I am going to try to think through what I have on hand and what I will choose.
Not keeping anything foodlike on the counters or in line of sight (ie, put them in the pantry or a cabinet) will keep me from mindlessly reaching for such things.
Then for thirty minutes, keeping my desire to eat anything and everything under control while I prep whatever was in my head before I walked in the door.
I think I can do this. It is only 30 minutes, you know?
It isn't eating the cookies that bothers me -it is the mindlessness that accompanied it. A couple cookies for dessert is a lovely thing. A couple dozen masquerading as dinner, not a happy feeling.
Planning ahead is a good and happy thing.
I had the very best of good intentions. I hadn't thought at all about what I was going to eat for dinner, but I have loads of healthy and tasty options. I knew I would get home and figure it out.
But the cookies were there. Right there. No prep needed.
Over the course of the evening, they disappeared as they are wont to do on such evenings. This is hardly the first time this has happened.
A couple/few hours later I got around to microwaving some home-made stew I keep on hand. Hardly got that down, as I had filled up on those cookies.
When I plan ahead, this rarely happens. Planning ahead is SUCH a pain, however.
So, last night (feeling slightly ill from the sugar OD) I pondered, okay, this is getting a bit out of hand. What can I do to at least make an EFFORT to prevent this?
I figure the first 30 minutes when I get home is crucial to my success. Before getting home, if I haven't written my food plan for the evening (yes, I know I am supposed to do that, but life happens!) I am going to try to think through what I have on hand and what I will choose.
Not keeping anything foodlike on the counters or in line of sight (ie, put them in the pantry or a cabinet) will keep me from mindlessly reaching for such things.
Then for thirty minutes, keeping my desire to eat anything and everything under control while I prep whatever was in my head before I walked in the door.
I think I can do this. It is only 30 minutes, you know?
It isn't eating the cookies that bothers me -it is the mindlessness that accompanied it. A couple cookies for dessert is a lovely thing. A couple dozen masquerading as dinner, not a happy feeling.
Planning ahead is a good and happy thing.
Monday, February 11, 2013
Our German Shepherd
I admit when Cardinal Ratzinger was named Pope Benedict XVI, I wasn't jumping up and down for joy. I LOVED Pope John Paul II, and Pope Benedict at first seemed more like a stern taskmaster than the loving shepherd that JP2 had been.
Still, as time went on and Ben16 was able to show himself as a strong leader who dealt sharply with abuses within the church, and lovingly with everyone -Catholic or not Catholic- building bridges where before there had been walls, I settled into a happy acceptance that love conquers all.
One of the most encouraging things he has ever said speaks directly to my heart as I struggle seemingly constantly with messes other people make and my own sin and sinful tendencies and my own fear and my own failings...
"My friends, May no adversity paralyse you. Be afraid neither of the world nor of the future nor of your weaknesses. The Lord has allowed you to live in this moment of history so that by your faith, His Name will continue to resound throughout the world..."
or this:
“If you follow the will of God, you know that in spite of all the terrible things that happen to you, you will never lose a final refuge. You know that the foundation of the world is love, so that even when no human being can or will help you, you may go on, trusting in the One that loves you.”
or this:
“Something I constantly notice is that unembarrassed joy has become rarer. Joy today is increasingly saddled with moral and ideological burdens, so to speak. When someone rejoices, he is afraid of offending against solidarity with the many people who suffer. I don't have any right to rejoice, people think, in a world where there is so much misery, so much injustice.
I can understand that. There is a moral attitude at work here. But this attitude is nonetheless wrong. The loss of joy does not make the world better - and, conversely, refusing joy for the sake of suffering does not help those who suffer. The contrary is true. The world needs people who discover the good, who rejoice in it and thereby derive the impetus and courage to do good. Joy, then, does not break with solidarity. When it is the right kind of joy, when it is not egotistic, when it comes from the perception of the good, then it wants to communicate itself, and it gets passed on. In this connection, it always strikes me that in the poor neighborhoods of, say, South America, one sees many more laughing happy people than among us. Obviously, despite all their misery, they still have the perception of the good to which they cling and in which they can find encouragement and strength.
In this sense we have a new need for that primordial trust which ultimately only faith can give. That the world is basically good, that God is there and is good. That it is good to live and to be a human being. This results, then, in the courage to rejoice, which in turn becomes commitment to making sure that other people, too, can rejoice and receive good news.”
and also, this:
"Truth is not determined by a majority vote."
Thank you, dear Ben16, for your lifetime given to showing love to us all. Get some rest and may the rest of your life with us be filled with peace.
Still, as time went on and Ben16 was able to show himself as a strong leader who dealt sharply with abuses within the church, and lovingly with everyone -Catholic or not Catholic- building bridges where before there had been walls, I settled into a happy acceptance that love conquers all.
One of the most encouraging things he has ever said speaks directly to my heart as I struggle seemingly constantly with messes other people make and my own sin and sinful tendencies and my own fear and my own failings...
"My friends, May no adversity paralyse you. Be afraid neither of the world nor of the future nor of your weaknesses. The Lord has allowed you to live in this moment of history so that by your faith, His Name will continue to resound throughout the world..."
or this:
“If you follow the will of God, you know that in spite of all the terrible things that happen to you, you will never lose a final refuge. You know that the foundation of the world is love, so that even when no human being can or will help you, you may go on, trusting in the One that loves you.”
or this:
“Something I constantly notice is that unembarrassed joy has become rarer. Joy today is increasingly saddled with moral and ideological burdens, so to speak. When someone rejoices, he is afraid of offending against solidarity with the many people who suffer. I don't have any right to rejoice, people think, in a world where there is so much misery, so much injustice.
I can understand that. There is a moral attitude at work here. But this attitude is nonetheless wrong. The loss of joy does not make the world better - and, conversely, refusing joy for the sake of suffering does not help those who suffer. The contrary is true. The world needs people who discover the good, who rejoice in it and thereby derive the impetus and courage to do good. Joy, then, does not break with solidarity. When it is the right kind of joy, when it is not egotistic, when it comes from the perception of the good, then it wants to communicate itself, and it gets passed on. In this connection, it always strikes me that in the poor neighborhoods of, say, South America, one sees many more laughing happy people than among us. Obviously, despite all their misery, they still have the perception of the good to which they cling and in which they can find encouragement and strength.
In this sense we have a new need for that primordial trust which ultimately only faith can give. That the world is basically good, that God is there and is good. That it is good to live and to be a human being. This results, then, in the courage to rejoice, which in turn becomes commitment to making sure that other people, too, can rejoice and receive good news.”
and also, this:
"Truth is not determined by a majority vote."
Thank you, dear Ben16, for your lifetime given to showing love to us all. Get some rest and may the rest of your life with us be filled with peace.
Friday, February 8, 2013
Pop Tarts Are Crack!
I
Love
Pop Tarts!
Love.
Anyway, I haven't had any for a few years. No particular reason except that I have no discipline whatsoever when eating them, and since nothing in large quantities is good for you, I just simply don't buy them. Yeah, I know they are full of genetically-altering chemicals and likely produced through the tears of small children using dangerous equipment. Don't even care.
Like crack to me, pop-tarts are. Don't try reasoning with an addict.
So, last night I left an awesome training session and went to Target to pick up a prescription. I was hungry. So, so hungry.
I spied the Pop Tart display. Dear benevolent Lord, thank you!! They have the blueberry frosted kind!
I picked up a twelve count. Oh yeah. Then, purely out of this new habit I've developed, I flipped the box around and read the nutritional information.
200 calories per Tart. 200! TWO HUNDRED!! The box itself therefore contained... 2,400 delicious chemically laden calories.
Well, F$%&
I looked at the box for a minute anyway. I was hungry, it was so, so easy... surely I would just eat, you know, one. Maybe two. Really, I could keep it to two.
Who am I kidding, half the box would be gone before I even got home. I left it there and scurried out before I could change my mind.
As I walked to the car, I got irritated at Kellogg's. I mean, those things do not HAVE to be made like that! I mean, really.
My obvious calling in life: creating a healthy pop-tart. I can do this.
I shall report back on my results.
Love
Pop Tarts!
Love.
Anyway, I haven't had any for a few years. No particular reason except that I have no discipline whatsoever when eating them, and since nothing in large quantities is good for you, I just simply don't buy them. Yeah, I know they are full of genetically-altering chemicals and likely produced through the tears of small children using dangerous equipment. Don't even care.
Like crack to me, pop-tarts are. Don't try reasoning with an addict.
So, last night I left an awesome training session and went to Target to pick up a prescription. I was hungry. So, so hungry.
I spied the Pop Tart display. Dear benevolent Lord, thank you!! They have the blueberry frosted kind!
I picked up a twelve count. Oh yeah. Then, purely out of this new habit I've developed, I flipped the box around and read the nutritional information.
200 calories per Tart. 200! TWO HUNDRED!! The box itself therefore contained... 2,400 delicious chemically laden calories.
Well, F$%&
I looked at the box for a minute anyway. I was hungry, it was so, so easy... surely I would just eat, you know, one. Maybe two. Really, I could keep it to two.
Who am I kidding, half the box would be gone before I even got home. I left it there and scurried out before I could change my mind.
As I walked to the car, I got irritated at Kellogg's. I mean, those things do not HAVE to be made like that! I mean, really.
My obvious calling in life: creating a healthy pop-tart. I can do this.
I shall report back on my results.
Thursday, February 7, 2013
Rethinking Food
How we think about food is so distorted in so many ways. I'm not even talking distortion that reaches the level of eating disorders or food abuse -just everyday thinking about food.
First, the concept of "good" food and "bad" food. "Good" seems to be that which is in line with one's personal food plan. "Bad" is that which falls outside of such a plan. I'm not sure this is really helpful terminology.
Everyone has a different concept of what it means to eat "correctly" or "incorrectly." The phrase "eating clean" is one I recently learned -but it by its nature implies there is "unclean" eating, and I know that they aren't speaking of kosher laws.
Then there are those who refuse to believe that food is anything other than fuel, and completely ignore the emotional aspects of eating. Let's face it, we celebrate almost everything with special food, and this is a worldwide phenomenon and happens all the time in the Bible. So that has to be how we are created to exist. Food is not simply "just fuel."
Part of my homework in learning about food has been to write down what I eat. I'm supposed to write down my emotions, too, but that is a hassle so I have to rededicate myself to that, as I dropped that off a few months ago.
I have tendencies to be very scrupulous, and that isn't helpful. My food plan is about as flexible as you can get -it is a handful of guidelines to help me make choices that make me feel better -have more energy, be more stable emotionally, and not make myself crazy trying to be too specific about everything. There is literally nothing I can't eat.
Still, I do find myself sometimes reverting to thinking in terms of "good" and "bad." My dad used to refer to any sweets or calorically-dense food as "fat food." ("Fat" of course, being a very negative thing to be avoided.) So even when it is perfectly reasonable to be eating cake, for example, such as at a birthday party... there is still that twinge of guilt for eating something simply for the fact it is fun and tastes really good. I'm not blaming my dad, BTW, it was fairly common practice in days of yore and is still present today -we just use different words for it.
There are the logical consequences of food choices -feeling energized or feeling sluggish, weight gain or maintenance or loss, having the resources to challenge myself physically or not up to the challenge. Then there are the illogical but still REAL consequences: feeling happy or sad or guilty or companionable or excluded or honored or ignored or safe or scared or a host of things.
I totally can share this... I used to hate eating in front of people I didn't know well. Given that I eat out for business all the time, I made sure to chat a lot so others could eat and simply moved food around on my plate. I am QUITE over that one... but I think so many of us have similar hang-ups and honesty does clear the air. For example, I know people who have a completely stocked pantry at all times. They don't actually EAT canned food, but it makes them feel safer -if they lose their job or all else breaks loose, they at least will have food. More people than will admit it have control issues with food. I have a friend who agonizes when she eats a bagel. Ugh.
I started being more aware of these ways of thinking a few years ago, especially as I encountered people who have really healthy relationships with food. I wondered what it would be like to not be constantly analyzing every potential bite and assigning an emotion to it.
I think it must be quite freeing.
First, the concept of "good" food and "bad" food. "Good" seems to be that which is in line with one's personal food plan. "Bad" is that which falls outside of such a plan. I'm not sure this is really helpful terminology.
Everyone has a different concept of what it means to eat "correctly" or "incorrectly." The phrase "eating clean" is one I recently learned -but it by its nature implies there is "unclean" eating, and I know that they aren't speaking of kosher laws.
Then there are those who refuse to believe that food is anything other than fuel, and completely ignore the emotional aspects of eating. Let's face it, we celebrate almost everything with special food, and this is a worldwide phenomenon and happens all the time in the Bible. So that has to be how we are created to exist. Food is not simply "just fuel."
Part of my homework in learning about food has been to write down what I eat. I'm supposed to write down my emotions, too, but that is a hassle so I have to rededicate myself to that, as I dropped that off a few months ago.
I have tendencies to be very scrupulous, and that isn't helpful. My food plan is about as flexible as you can get -it is a handful of guidelines to help me make choices that make me feel better -have more energy, be more stable emotionally, and not make myself crazy trying to be too specific about everything. There is literally nothing I can't eat.
Still, I do find myself sometimes reverting to thinking in terms of "good" and "bad." My dad used to refer to any sweets or calorically-dense food as "fat food." ("Fat" of course, being a very negative thing to be avoided.) So even when it is perfectly reasonable to be eating cake, for example, such as at a birthday party... there is still that twinge of guilt for eating something simply for the fact it is fun and tastes really good. I'm not blaming my dad, BTW, it was fairly common practice in days of yore and is still present today -we just use different words for it.
There are the logical consequences of food choices -feeling energized or feeling sluggish, weight gain or maintenance or loss, having the resources to challenge myself physically or not up to the challenge. Then there are the illogical but still REAL consequences: feeling happy or sad or guilty or companionable or excluded or honored or ignored or safe or scared or a host of things.
I totally can share this... I used to hate eating in front of people I didn't know well. Given that I eat out for business all the time, I made sure to chat a lot so others could eat and simply moved food around on my plate. I am QUITE over that one... but I think so many of us have similar hang-ups and honesty does clear the air. For example, I know people who have a completely stocked pantry at all times. They don't actually EAT canned food, but it makes them feel safer -if they lose their job or all else breaks loose, they at least will have food. More people than will admit it have control issues with food. I have a friend who agonizes when she eats a bagel. Ugh.
I started being more aware of these ways of thinking a few years ago, especially as I encountered people who have really healthy relationships with food. I wondered what it would be like to not be constantly analyzing every potential bite and assigning an emotion to it.
I think it must be quite freeing.
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Rivers and Rocks
A river cuts through a rock not because of its power, but because of its persistence.
So, because I do not want anyone to think for even two seconds that getting fit and losing a lot of weight was oh-so-easy for me, or I know some sort of magic spell or that it was anything other than hard, consistent work... this blog post is dedicated to everyone slogging through the mire trying to reach their goals.
The last part of this last year, I worked out almost every single day. During that time, my back went out about 3 times -once for almost a week. I caught the flu. My asthma was a daily aggravation. A black hole of depression kicked in in December I almost didn't pull out of. I was always tired.
Still, I showed up unless it was physically impossible. Honestly, most days, I really think I showed up out of pure habit. The mornings I simply did not want to get out of bed, I told myself, "If you show up today, you will probably show up tomorrow. If you don't show up today, you will probably skip tomorrow, too."
There were very few highs and a lot of frustration. I had LOVED lifting heavy, and had to completely stop that for almost 4 months in the name of good back health. Same for punching the bag. Control burns in the area made even hiking outside an exercise in hurting lungs and days of coughing fits. I felt like I was having to rethink everything about my exercise plan almost every week.
It became a game of, "Well, what can I do today?" One day I was SURE I was ready to start punching again, so my trainer said, "Before you grab your gloves, just make the motions like you are punching something." I did and the pain that shot through my back and legs reminded me my back was still healing.
At the same time, my food intake was all over the board. For September and October, I lived on cookies. I'm not exaggerating. My food goal was no longer "eating clean." The seemingly impossible goal was following the simple original instructions from two years before: Eat protein every time you eat, track your food, avoid eating dessert without eating a real meal first. Just eat real food. Some days, I did not manage that.
Then there were the days I didn't really eat at all. I was too absorbed in work or too tired or just didn't feel like making the effort.
My point is, my life didn't put itself on hold while I was trying to be healthy. Most days I really did wonder why I was still working out so much. I knew deep down that was the one structure that kept me able to tackle everything else going on. No matter what, I had to show up. Slow, weak, angry, sad -what mattered was just showing up. By the time I finished, I usually had an attitude adjustment, but even when that didn't happen, I knew I was doing something good for myself. I had to believe it even when I didn't FEEL it.
It's been over a month since the last time my back went out. I'm better, lifting weights again and able to run without my lower back protesting. Still, it seemed most days I was exercising out of habit to prep for this 5K I committed to on a whim.
The 5K was this past weekend and was a shot in the arm. I ran well, I had fun, it was exciting and social and beautiful -clear air and gorgeous temps. It reminded me how much fun I used to have seeing what my body could do trying new things. I left the race feeling a sort of energy I hadn't felt in months.
I'm still on a high from it, and looking back, that saving grace from last year was that I just kept showing up. I may be slow and emotional and unfocused and imperfect, but I am tenacious.
I think that is what really got me where I was going -just getting out of bed and making the attempt. When I failed to hit the mark, I tried again.
I guess that is what I am really trying to say. It won't happen without bumps in the road and slipping backward and falling down and crying and being mad... but one day, you find yourself running under a heartbreakingly beautiful sky and it all comes together for a while.
A river cuts through a rock not because of its power, but because of its persistence.
So, because I do not want anyone to think for even two seconds that getting fit and losing a lot of weight was oh-so-easy for me, or I know some sort of magic spell or that it was anything other than hard, consistent work... this blog post is dedicated to everyone slogging through the mire trying to reach their goals.
The last part of this last year, I worked out almost every single day. During that time, my back went out about 3 times -once for almost a week. I caught the flu. My asthma was a daily aggravation. A black hole of depression kicked in in December I almost didn't pull out of. I was always tired.
Still, I showed up unless it was physically impossible. Honestly, most days, I really think I showed up out of pure habit. The mornings I simply did not want to get out of bed, I told myself, "If you show up today, you will probably show up tomorrow. If you don't show up today, you will probably skip tomorrow, too."
There were very few highs and a lot of frustration. I had LOVED lifting heavy, and had to completely stop that for almost 4 months in the name of good back health. Same for punching the bag. Control burns in the area made even hiking outside an exercise in hurting lungs and days of coughing fits. I felt like I was having to rethink everything about my exercise plan almost every week.
It became a game of, "Well, what can I do today?" One day I was SURE I was ready to start punching again, so my trainer said, "Before you grab your gloves, just make the motions like you are punching something." I did and the pain that shot through my back and legs reminded me my back was still healing.
At the same time, my food intake was all over the board. For September and October, I lived on cookies. I'm not exaggerating. My food goal was no longer "eating clean." The seemingly impossible goal was following the simple original instructions from two years before: Eat protein every time you eat, track your food, avoid eating dessert without eating a real meal first. Just eat real food. Some days, I did not manage that.
Then there were the days I didn't really eat at all. I was too absorbed in work or too tired or just didn't feel like making the effort.
My point is, my life didn't put itself on hold while I was trying to be healthy. Most days I really did wonder why I was still working out so much. I knew deep down that was the one structure that kept me able to tackle everything else going on. No matter what, I had to show up. Slow, weak, angry, sad -what mattered was just showing up. By the time I finished, I usually had an attitude adjustment, but even when that didn't happen, I knew I was doing something good for myself. I had to believe it even when I didn't FEEL it.
It's been over a month since the last time my back went out. I'm better, lifting weights again and able to run without my lower back protesting. Still, it seemed most days I was exercising out of habit to prep for this 5K I committed to on a whim.
The 5K was this past weekend and was a shot in the arm. I ran well, I had fun, it was exciting and social and beautiful -clear air and gorgeous temps. It reminded me how much fun I used to have seeing what my body could do trying new things. I left the race feeling a sort of energy I hadn't felt in months.
I'm still on a high from it, and looking back, that saving grace from last year was that I just kept showing up. I may be slow and emotional and unfocused and imperfect, but I am tenacious.
I think that is what really got me where I was going -just getting out of bed and making the attempt. When I failed to hit the mark, I tried again.
I guess that is what I am really trying to say. It won't happen without bumps in the road and slipping backward and falling down and crying and being mad... but one day, you find yourself running under a heartbreakingly beautiful sky and it all comes together for a while.
A river cuts through a rock not because of its power, but because of its persistence.
Monday, February 4, 2013
Best Time Ever
I admit it. I was nervous going in.
It was cold. I debated wearing my hoodie or going without. Be cold now and less hassle later. Be warm now, carry hoodie later. I opted for wearing it now and suffering later.
We warmed up by walking from the car to get our packets, then back to the car to drop everything off, then back to the start. Then walking around the parking lot to try to stay warm.
Jayne and I agreed that no matter what, we would start with running and end with running.
My first 5K. Sedona, AZ.
I had tried to push my time when working out to get it under a magical number in my head, but no matter how I tried, I could not get lower than 2 minutes slower overall than I wanted to be. I warned myself that this 5k would take even longer because it wasn't on a treadmill and it was really hilly. My goal was to finish uninjured. That was it.
We positioned ourselves in the middle of the pack. Jayne was getting excited and I was trying to just stay calm and remember I have nothing to prove to anyone. Showing up earned me a gold star. There were two thousand something other runners. I probably wasn't going to be the slowest, but even if I was, it didn't matter.
I walked a 5k a few years ago and it was horrid. Trail, not pavement, dust flying, asthma acting up, and carrying a lot more weight on my body than I do now.
This time, it was run when you can, walk when you have to. I was coughing a bit but nothing unmanageable.
We passed people. People passed us. Jayne's a way better runner than I am but she stuck with me, which was amazing and awesome and I am so grateful.
It went by so fast. My trainer and his wife (Jesse and Mandy) came down to cheer us on, and it was really cool to see them as we approached the finish line. Some other folks we know cheered us on. Even folks we didn't know were cheering for all the runners.
The finish line was uphill, so as we ran across it, I was huffing and was glad to be able to stop. A couple minutes later I was ready to run again. I wasn't exhausted or hurting anywhere or sore.
And I had achieved my fastest pace ever -over two minutes per mile faster than I had ever gone before. 6 minutes faster than my fastest overall time.
Jesse and Mandy found us and we all hugged and took pictures and smiled a lot. They stayed at the race because Jesse's running buddy was going to win the marathon and they wanted to cheer him on for that, too. Jayne and I went to eat breakfast.
As we sat there at The Coffee Pot, I got all emotional and teary. Jayne asked what was wrong, and I said, "I'm just so happy!"
Jayne has been there from the get-go with this. Before I met with a registered dietitian or met my trainer or took a hazardous wobbly step toward running, Jayne was there telling me I could do it, telling me I was worth the effort, telling me to believe. She was there as I dealt with my crazy life while learning about food and being healthy and trying all these scary new things and working through major stuff and unlearning all kinds of things When we started working out together, she actually showed up. That alone is worth its weight in gold.
So she understood, as I sat there and cried in front of God and everybody, how much it meant to me that all this work I have done the past two years brought me to something I never dreamed of doing, or thought I would ever be able to do. I didn't realize how hard it would hit me when it was all over. This was something I never even hoped for, and it happened.
Jer 29:11, all over again.
so here are some pics:
This is from Jesse's phone (Jayne is the one in black, the guy is Jesse)
This is from my phone: gorgeous perfect morning, Melissa (who came in 3rd in her age class!) and Jayne and I showing off our finishers' medals, and The Coddington Four.
It was cold. I debated wearing my hoodie or going without. Be cold now and less hassle later. Be warm now, carry hoodie later. I opted for wearing it now and suffering later.
We warmed up by walking from the car to get our packets, then back to the car to drop everything off, then back to the start. Then walking around the parking lot to try to stay warm.
Jayne and I agreed that no matter what, we would start with running and end with running.
My first 5K. Sedona, AZ.
I had tried to push my time when working out to get it under a magical number in my head, but no matter how I tried, I could not get lower than 2 minutes slower overall than I wanted to be. I warned myself that this 5k would take even longer because it wasn't on a treadmill and it was really hilly. My goal was to finish uninjured. That was it.
We positioned ourselves in the middle of the pack. Jayne was getting excited and I was trying to just stay calm and remember I have nothing to prove to anyone. Showing up earned me a gold star. There were two thousand something other runners. I probably wasn't going to be the slowest, but even if I was, it didn't matter.
I walked a 5k a few years ago and it was horrid. Trail, not pavement, dust flying, asthma acting up, and carrying a lot more weight on my body than I do now.
This time, it was run when you can, walk when you have to. I was coughing a bit but nothing unmanageable.
We passed people. People passed us. Jayne's a way better runner than I am but she stuck with me, which was amazing and awesome and I am so grateful.
It went by so fast. My trainer and his wife (Jesse and Mandy) came down to cheer us on, and it was really cool to see them as we approached the finish line. Some other folks we know cheered us on. Even folks we didn't know were cheering for all the runners.
The finish line was uphill, so as we ran across it, I was huffing and was glad to be able to stop. A couple minutes later I was ready to run again. I wasn't exhausted or hurting anywhere or sore.
And I had achieved my fastest pace ever -over two minutes per mile faster than I had ever gone before. 6 minutes faster than my fastest overall time.
Jesse and Mandy found us and we all hugged and took pictures and smiled a lot. They stayed at the race because Jesse's running buddy was going to win the marathon and they wanted to cheer him on for that, too. Jayne and I went to eat breakfast.
As we sat there at The Coffee Pot, I got all emotional and teary. Jayne asked what was wrong, and I said, "I'm just so happy!"
Jayne has been there from the get-go with this. Before I met with a registered dietitian or met my trainer or took a hazardous wobbly step toward running, Jayne was there telling me I could do it, telling me I was worth the effort, telling me to believe. She was there as I dealt with my crazy life while learning about food and being healthy and trying all these scary new things and working through major stuff and unlearning all kinds of things When we started working out together, she actually showed up. That alone is worth its weight in gold.
So she understood, as I sat there and cried in front of God and everybody, how much it meant to me that all this work I have done the past two years brought me to something I never dreamed of doing, or thought I would ever be able to do. I didn't realize how hard it would hit me when it was all over. This was something I never even hoped for, and it happened.
Jer 29:11, all over again.
so here are some pics:
This is from Jesse's phone (Jayne is the one in black, the guy is Jesse)
This is from my phone: gorgeous perfect morning, Melissa (who came in 3rd in her age class!) and Jayne and I showing off our finishers' medals, and The Coddington Four.
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