5K Stuff

My thoughts are scattered, I have been working on getting my thoughts down for over a month now, but I have to share what I have, before my memory gets hay. So here goes my 5K tale.

Basic statistics first. I went to the 5K, I got my t-shirt, I ran and walked, and I finished the 5K. And most importantly to me, I was not last. :D This is all good stuff. Woohoo, go me, and all that.

At the beginning of the race, my sisters decided to walk the whole thing together. My mom and I were going to run and walk together. About 200 yards into the race, I had to stop and just walk. But, my mom kept going. She never stopped running the whole race. I didn’t see her again until after the race. While I am extremely proud of her for being able to run the whole thing without walking or stopping, I felt abandoned. I felt sad. I didn’t like that feeling. I hated the feeling of being alone, while everybody else passed my by. I didn’t like it at all. And I almost felt angry about it. Not so much angry at my mom, but angry at myself. Angry that I had to stop and walk. Angry that I hadn’t worked out enough to be able to run myself. I was annoyed at my mom because she had claimed she hadn’t been working out either. And because she said that she was going to have to walk and run. But I was mad at myself for not being good enough. 

And there I go again, “not good enough.”  This is a constant struggle for me, my weight and level of fitness are not an indicator of my moral compass.  My being unable to run the entire 3.3 miles is no indication on whether I am a good person or not. It truly isn’t. But I turn there over and over again. I may still be heavy. I may not be very fit. I may have a low tolerance for exercise. But I am a good person. I am NOT evil or bad. I am worth it to keep trying. 

After walking for awhile in my own self-pity, I decided to slow way down and wait for my sisters A and H. A had knee surgery this year, and H has struggled with her weight for years. I was so proud of them for participating in the run with us. So I walked with them for awhile, mentally beating myself up, and whining that my mom had run on ahead. After awhile, I thought to myself, “why am I upset that she kept going at her own pace? Why does it bother me that she didn’t hold herself back for me? This is ridiculous!” So, once I caught my breath, and mended my pride, I decided to take things at my own pace. Was I doing this for my mom, or with my mom? Or was I doing it for myself? What do I preach all the time? Don’t do this for anybody but yourself. You are the only one you can count on, and if you are relying on others to accomplish your dreams, then you are going to fail. So I tucked it in and started jogging a bit. I jogged until I got tired, and then I walked a bit. Then I picked up the pace, and jogged on again. I finished the race that way. I jogged and I walked, as I needed to. I quit caring about what other people thought. I quit thinking about who was with me or not, and I just got down to business. 

I finished the race, crossed that finish line. I thought I would be so excited, so proud of myself, and just feel good. But I didn't. In fact, I felt let down.  I felt like the only reason I felt any measure of relief or 'happiness,' was just because it was over and I didn't have to do it anymore. I was just so glad to be done.

And then I turned to cheer my sisters on.  What can I say, we have all been heavy at some point in our lives. My sister A had knee surgery this year. My sister H has struggled with weight-issues for a long time. But they participated in the 5K this year too.  And when I saw them running/jogging the last bit of the race, I started to cheer louder, I started to cry and weep. Because THEY did it.
I don’t know why I don’t feel excited about what I did. I just feel rather numb about it. Kind of let down even. It’s frustrating, because I worked hard for this, and I finished, and I wasn’t last, and I finished in under an hour (56 minutes and some-odd seconds).

But, even though I don’t feel all that accomplished in myself, I do feel celebratory about my sisters finishing. I do feel excitement, and joy, that they were able to participate, and finish. They also finished under an hour, and they too were not last. And so I have decided to celebrate their win, to bask in their glow, and to hope that maybe next time, I will have figured out what it is I missed last time so I can really celebrate my finish.

Until next time . . .  

 

Do You Ever Feel Like . . .

Do you ever feel like, no matter how much you improve, or how well you think you are doing, it is never enough?

Do you ever feel like it doesn't even matter?

Me too.

The BIG 6-0

That's right, 60 pounds have been knocked off of my body. I haven't felt this good in YEARS. It is hard to believe how far I have come. Seriously, I am feeling fabulous. And it is more than just about the number. I have learned to like myself. I am learning to be kind to myself. I am learning to be more compassionate and forgiving of myself.  These are lessons that I stood in desperate need of 9 months ago. And that is how long I have been on this journey. It has been a slow journey too. And it is easy to get discouraged when I figure I have lost about 6 pounds a month, on average. But I try to look at the big picture. Yes, I have only lost 4 pounds this month. But that is still 4 pounds lighter than I was. I am healthier now than I was a month ago.


My first 5K is this week. On Thanksgiving morning, some of my family (mom and sisters) will be participating in the Annual Turkey Trot in Amarillo, which is put on/sponsored by the Lone Star Runner's Club. I am a little nervous/anxious about it.  I keep telling myself, I can walk the whole thing, I don't have to try and run. However, I am going to try and run some of it. My husband and kids will be there are the finish line for me. And I have told my husband I want pictures (NOT video), so stay tuned next week for those. I really am excited. A 5K is not something I have EVER thought I would do someday. And yet, here it is, right in front of me, just waiting for me to take that first step. And baby, I am taking that step.

How much is 60 pounds?

This stack of soap bricks, each weigh 2.5 pounds, weighs 60 pounds.

This dolphin fish weighs 60 pounds.

This flathead catfish weighs 60 pounds.

Over Halfway There

What an amazing feeling to be over halfway to my goal!? I can hardly express how excited I am!

I am now at a total loss of 56 pounds. Which means I have only about 45 pounds to lose. This is wonderful to me, because I look at that a think, "Shoot! I already lost more than that, 45 will be easy!" I love feeling like I can finally get control of my weight, that I finally HAVE control. I am in the driver's seat here, I can make the decisions, I can be the boss of my life. And I am thankful for the lessons I have learned along the way. I have learned to be kinder to myself. To be compassionate with myself. And to accept myself as a good person, who has a food addiction. An addiction that, like any other, can only be overcome with hard work, support and just plain determination, grit, ganas. Some days are easier than others, and some are just plain HARD! But you know, I can do this, I got this. And so I keep on trucking. When I get frustrated, I just look at old pictures, and think, I am no longer that person. When I feel down, I find something that weighs at least 50 pounds, and carry it around for awhile. I don't have to feel so heavy and tired anymore! I have freed myself from an obese, tired, unhealthy body, and given myself a new lease on life, a new opportunity, a life full of health, energy and YEARS.  I can keep going, because I have already done it. I am already over half way there!

Just Keep Swimming!

It's been just over eight months since I started losing weight, and I sit here down 54 pounds. I feel great! I have more energy, I can breathe better, I have less headaches, and I just feel better. Such a wonderful feeling!

And I feel like I have learned so much on this journey. I still have a long way to go, but it finally seems manageable. To sit and think "I need to lose 100 pounds" is a daunting thought, and I found it weighed me down immeasurably. But I broke down the goal this time. It wasn't about the total 100 pounds anymore, it became, "I will lose 10 pounds." And then once I did that, it was easier to say "Well, I lost 10, I think  I can do another 10." And each goal built upon itself, and here I am now. I now have less to lose than I have already lost. Which is totally awesome! And along the way, I have learned some valuable emotional health tools as well. Having my half cup of ice now and then is not "cheating." I am not "bad" because I choose to indulge in a snack. And you know, since I no longer label myself as "bad," for having a sugar-filled treat, I no longer feel compelled to think "Well, I'm already 'bad,' might as well finish off the whole tub while I am at it." I don't berate myself anymore for a food choice. I am not a bad person, I am not an evil person. I simply enjoy sugary-foods. And sugary foods (ice cream, cookies, cake, etc) ARE NOT BAD. They can be eaten in over-abundance, they can be over-indulged in, but they are not BAD foods. And because I recognize that a treat now and then is not bad, then I am no longer a bad person.

And why did I think I was a bad person? I consider myself to be caring, intelligent, kind, and successful. I try to help others, I try to watch my temper, and I try to be better today than I was yesterday. I haven't killed anybody or assaulted anyone. I don't rob stores, I don't steal from others. I don't break the law, even traffic laws. So why did I tie my food choices to my moral character?? I do not have the answer to that yet, but I do know that I was wrong to do that, not bad, but wrong. And that is okay. When we realize we are wrong, and accept that we need to change, we can do that. 

And so to you I say, you are not a bad person because of what you choose to eat. Unless you are choosing to eat your fellowman, your moral character is not determined by what you eat.

Comparing pictures

I thought it might be fun to compare my picture starting this blog and today. So, here goes!
 
This is April 2011

This is me today, October 4, 2011

I don't really like those last two pictures, as my posture is off, but I realized I looked happy, so I kept them :D

Disappointed

I feel like I finally have a new lease on life. Losing so much weight, and finally being successful in it has really helped me want to succeed in other areas, like as a parent and as a wife. I have been trying so hard to be better. And I felt like I was doing better. I felt like I had improved so much. But then people I love and respect feel the need to tell me that I am not. Some of these I could blow off. But when it is multiple people telling me I'm not good enough, I fear it must be true. And that hurts. I really felt like I was making some marked improvement. I really felt like I was becoming a better person, and I just feel like I have failed. I feel I have failed everyone. My health issues are discouraging, because here I am finally fixing my weight, and then I start getting all of these infections. I finally feel like I am making some headway in who I am, being a better me, and then people point out my continued imperfections. And these are people who are supposed to love me, therefore their perceptions of me must be correct.

What is the point of even trying anymore, when it seems nobody notices the improvement? Yes, people have noticed my weight loss, and that is good. But my health is worse now, I think, than before. I felt like I was a better person, but no, not good enough. And I struggle with people's perceptions of me.

I used to say that I didn't care what people thought of me, it only mattered what I thought of me. But I feel brow-beaten down. And it hurts. And I find that it does matter what people think of me. Especially certain people. And there is a part of me, a large part of me that wants to retaliate, to hurt those people as they have hurt me. But I feel so dejected, and let down, and low, and humiliated, that I can't even begin to get mad enough to do so. I just hurt. I appreciate a constructive remark now and then. I appreciate honesty. But I feel so low, that all I want is an encouraging word. And comment of "Hey, I've noticed you are trying to do better, keep it up!" Or, "Way to go!" Or even just a simple "I am so proud of you."  I am finding that I do care what others think of me. And I am finding that I don't like what they think. And I am realizing that the opinions of certain people especially, matter to me. I feel like I have failed those I love most. And when I feel this way, other comments people have made to me in the past, come flooding back. And they fill my mind with tormenting insults. "Can I tell you something as a mother? You are an embarrassment to your children." "I would hate to be your mother." "Nobody could ever like you."

And when my mind is flooded with those thoughts, my own inner demon begins to shout out loudly, "See! I told you that you would fail" and "I told you that it would be better to not try, because then you wouldn't fail." or "It would have been better if you had just stayed the way you were." "Nobody likes you." And then I feel, "why did I even bother to try?" Why did I think that I deserved to be healthy? Why did I think that I deserved some happiness in my own skin? Why did I think I could succeed? I have failed every.single.time I have attempted to improve. Maybe I am permanently broken. Maybe I am just some slip-shod measure of a being, one that doesn't matter, never has, and never will. And that I am permanently, irrevocably, and forever screwed up. I don't deserve happiness. I don't deserve what I have. My children do not deserve to have me for a mother. My husband does not deserve to be stuck with me as a wife. My parents and siblings do not deserve to have to be related to me. And when I let myself fall so far down into a hole, it is then that I allow my deepest, darkest, most evil inner demon to speak. He is an ugly, black-hearted, nay without a heart, cruel creature. And he promises a release from all the pain. He promises a doorway to it being all over. And he holds it out on a tempting tray. Beautified to hide what kind of evil he really offers.

And it is then, that I revolt. That I turn around and run. And I once again lock him up in his cage, and I promise once more to throw away the key, and never visit him again. Because you see, I do deserve happiness. I do deserve to have a healthy life. I do deserve my life. I do deserve to live. Yes, I make mistakes. Yes, I fall down sometimes. And yes, I even fail and screw up and totally foul up everything I touch.  But I am worth dragging my sorry butt off the floor, and pulling myself up out of the hole. I am worth soldiering on. I am worth a measure of happiness. And I am worth trying one more time.