Are We There Yet?!?!?!?

Well in January when I started this blog I said I was going to do a 1/2 marathon in Nashville in April.  Last weekend I met that goal.  You can do a LOT of thinking during a 13.1 mile walk through the streets of Nashville.

Here are some of the thoughts I had…

Pre-race:

• Standing in my corral of people at 6:45 am.  "Nashville is beautiful.  I am seriously in love with this city.  It is like a big small town.  People are friendly, it is clean, lots to do.  I need to come back here."
• The first wave of runners left the starting line at 7 am.  It is now 8:06 am and I am still waiting for my wave, wave 36, to go.  I am really tired of standing here knowing what is ahead. 

Wave 36 is released:

• Everyone around me is running.  I should run too!
• Okay, now that the lady ahead of me is walking I can walk too.  Since now someone else walked first.  Damnit!  She is running again.  I hate that woman. 

Mile 5:

• okay, I am hanging in there.  Only 8.1 to go.  What?  8.1?  I wish I couldn’t do math.
• Another hill…. Why do I feel like all we do is go up hill?  But I can see the top and know that what comes up must come down, right?  Almost there.
• YOU HAVE GOT TO BE F_&%$F KIDDING ME!!  I get to the top of this mother truckin hill to find that we are at only at the bottom of another hill. 
• The Universe hates me.
• Make several zig zags between curbs on this race as I am determined to high five every kid on the race course standing there with their hand out.  Shoot mental daggers at the people in front of me who ignore these little kids who are just trying to be supportive.  Remember you always take whatever a kid is offering… be it a hug, high five, or smile.

10K mark ahead:

• Wait, what?!?!?  Why didn’t anyone tell me there was a 10K option on this race.  Is it too late to switch?

Mile 8 and my feet are killing me (I have some foot issue I won’t bore you with, the bottom line is there is some nerve that causes shooting firery pain).  I stop and take my shoes off and rub my foot.  It helps.

Mile 8.5:

• hmmm… my foot doesn’t have that pain which is good, but it feels like these shoes are rubbing in different places now.  This isn’t good.

Mile 9 I stop again and take my shoes off to find huge blisters on several toes.  Feet swell so much in blistered areas that I can’t tie my shoes.  I can just slip them on.  My only options are quit or limp the remainder of the race.

•  “I have to finish these last 4.1 miles.  I have almost 2 hours.  I can do this.”
• “I have almost 2 hours and have 4 miles to finish.  There is no way I can do this” 

(limp and repeat these two above phrases 1,000,000 times just slowly reducing the mileage and time left)

• I can’t stop.  I have literally come too far to give up.  Plus all that time I spent training and was away from the family, I can’t stop.
• I wonder if there is an oil to make me run faster?!?!?!?  There is an oil for everything else these days surely there has to be an oil for this!!
• Make a mental note to add “hunt down and hurt person who designed this race course” to my bucket list. 
• Why does my Map My Run app say that I have completed 14 miles but this is only mile 12?  Clearly these race people didn’t lay this course out correctly.  :P  This is the worst city on the planet.  I am never coming back here.
• Why do I have friends who convince me to do these things?  I need lazy friends who just get together, sit poolside and enjoy adult beverages for the weekends.   These healthy friends who do exciting things and push me to be a better person… they suck.
•  That 70+ year old woman with perfect hair and little floral jog skirt just came trotting past me.  Really Anne?  You are getting shown up by this much older woman.  You should really be ashamed of how far you’ve let yourself go. 
• That woman is 70… know what that means?  There is always hope I can be better.  I hope when I am 70 I can still be out doing these things.  Today I struggled but I still beat every person who is still in bed at 11 am on this Saturday.
• Person on side of the road smiles and says “YOU ARE ALMOST THERE ONLY ½ MILE LEFT!”  My mental reaction “Go to hell"
• Over this bridge and I am done. 

See friends cheering for me as finish line approaches.  Trying not to cry.  Realize tears might not be due to pain as much as the fact that friends Cara and Lori look like they just walked out of a salon and not across a 1/2 marathon finish line (they finished around the 2 hour mark).  

• Hate friends for being beautiful and skinny in their running outfits after 13 miles.

Cross finish line, claim medal and collapse onto the first empty piece of shaded curb I can find. 

Exhausted, sore, sunburnt and feeling accomplished I drink some water, go get some lunch and make my way back to the hotel and shower.  While lying on the bed with throbbing feet and overall soreness I scan through facebook to see what other people have to say for the day. 

Find a status that says 

• “Please pray for xxx.  Their little guys cancer came out of his 3^rd remission on his birthday.  Headed to St. Jude again on Monday.”

Glance at the medal next to me. See the St. Jude logo. Know this race was a St. Jude fundraiser.  Think of all the people who ran/walked past me wearing shirts that said “in memory of…”

Give thanks to God for not only getting me through the race (because he is the only thing that did) but for giving me 4 healthy kids.  Give thanks that St. Jude exists for those who need it and am grateful that has never been me or my family.

Realize my struggle today is NOTHING compared to those kids facing/experiencing cancer.

Give thanks that I even have the ability to walk for 13.1 miles.  While sore and bruised, I realize that even having the chance to TRY is a complete gift.

Vow that next time I will sign up as a St. Jude hero.  Wait?!?!?  Who said anything about next time…. Clearly I am delusional.

Overall it was a great experience.  I am happy to knock 2 things off my bucket list – complete a ½ marathon and go to the Grand Old Opry.  Would I do it again?  Yes….but right now I am going to shoot more for the 5 – 10K range.

Thanks for all the encouraging messages over the weekend.  I have the best friends.  XOXO

Cutting the strings...

Here is todays topic:  Fat Pants

If you don't know what I mean when I say Fat Pants, then quite frankly I am not sure why you are hanging out at the banana stand because we could never be friends.

Even if you're fat pants are a size 8...which is up from your normal size 6 because of your natural (perhaps "irrational") love of arugula salad spritzed with lime… most people understand the Fat Pants concept.

But just for the purpose of common understanding… Fat Pants are the one thing in your closet that you know are going to ALWAYS fit. They often come with elastic/stretchy waist bands and are made with some degree of spandex to allow a little extra give. They are often worn with longer shapeless type shirts/sweaters.

It doesn't matter if you are bloated and retaining water.  It doesn't matter if you ate your weight in pizza, chinese or mexican food.  It doesn't matter if it is the day after the Super Bowl or Thanksgiving or your 3rd Christmas Dinner in 12 hours… Fat Pants are comfy and they ALWAYS fit.

ALWAYS

Until they don't.

At which point you vow to lose a few pounds.

Maybe you do.

Maybe you don't.

If you don't.  You hang your head and visit the nearest clothing store where you buy a single pair of pants in the next size.  You swear you are not going to be this size very long but realize that you cannot continue to bungee cord your pants shut, so you buy one pair of pants for work/school, whatever.

These become your new Fat Pants and your old Fat Pants become the goal pants that you hope to get back into someday.

Then you realize these new pants are comfortable, and because you cannot wear the same pair of pants/jeans to work for several days in a row, you go buy 2-3 more of these pants in the same style but different basic work colors.  A khaki, a black, a grey… maybe you shake things up with a navy.

The cycle continues… it is like being stuck on a spiral playground slide to hell and self loathing.

Until one day you hit the bottom and, while dizzy and disoriented, you determine no more.

To be honest, I have been adjusting to this new gluten/dairy/yeast free diet for a few weeks now.  It isn't as hard as I thought it would be.  While I do miss a few things, when I unintentionally have something I have cut out (like the soy/wheat that was in this protein drink I had the other day) my stomach hates me.  Knowing that is the consequence of having these foods makes it easier to avoid them.

But I haven't had that "I am losing weight" feeling that often comes when I go on some crazy diet.

I know this isn't a "crazy diet" it is a lifestyle change and slow and steady wins the race… yeah, yeah, yeah I get it.

But as a lifelong crash dieter I know there is always a day when I wake up, having deprived myself of some major food group for a few days, or having consumed a glass of unsweetened grapefruit juice before every meal (yes I have done this) and I  wake up and just feel thinner.

I know it is fleeting, I know it is not healthy, I know it was probably all water, but regardless of all of that… that "thinner" feeling was motivating in the short term and kept me going until my body revolted and said "stop with the damn grapefruit juice or cabbage diet!!"

That hasn't happened with this.  There has been no magical moment where the sky opens up, the sun seems to shine just on me as the wind blows softly through my hair as I run like a gazelle through the streets of Elmwood.

I am sure I am healthier than I was a month ago.  I know I feel better.  I am assuming I have lost a few pounds but since I have determined I will not step on a scale this year, I don't know how much.  So I have to look for other measures.

Today I was getting dressed for work and grabbed a pair of pants.  I was pleasantly surprised when I realized they had become not only Fat Pants, but more like clown pants.  They looked borderline ridiculous and I took them off and changed.

I hung them back in my closet, put on something else and headed to work.  As I was driving I was feeling good that I was seeing some results even without that "magical" feeling.  Then I started to wonder…. why did I hang them back up?

(Side note, Todd is probably wondering this too.  He is probably worried something is wrong with me because hanging things back up is not my strength.)

Why did I hang them back up?  I put them back in there knowing they no longer fit but somewhat celebrating that I have a new pair of MEGA Fat Pants.

Honestly?

I put them back so that I have them to fall back in to when I fail.

They are my safety net.

That's the truth.  40 years of history and failure tells me this time will be no different.

Those "truth's" we tell ourselves are hard to change.  Harder than a lifestyle related to food choices.  That internal subliminal message is harder to silence.

I am getting rid of those pants this weekend.  I am cleaning out any clothes that are too big or make me feel fat and dumpy.  The clothes that I wear when I am the most disgusted and disappointed in myself and my health.

This does not mean I am scrapping all my black yoga pants.  Please I'd be naked if I did that and I don't want to be arrested or scare people.

It does mean that the steelers t-shirt that is 15 years old and could be used as a pop up tent for small children has to go.

I am cutting the strings on my safety nets as a way to let myself know failure cannot happen.  Going back is not an option.

Only forward.

Only healthier.

I think we all have safety nets in some way.  Even if yours does not deal with weigh issues, everyone has their own version of Fat Pants.  Anyone want to join me in doing some spring cleaning of these items this weekend?  What will you unload as a statement of declaring you are only moving forward and failure is not an option?

Care to share?