My creed.

Somebody posted this in my running club a few weeks ago and it struck a chord with me. Tomorrow I’m off to run the Master of All Terrain Half Marathon in Mt. Dora, FL. An off-road course going through fields and woods and sand and heaven knows what else. In June. In Florida. It’s a pretty intimidating course and I’m…. well, intimidated. But I just watched this again and felt a little better. A little stronger. It’s motivating and empowering and reminds me that when my alarm clock goes off at an ungodly hour of the morning, it’s just an opportunity to go out there and better myself.

“For what is each day but a series of conflicts between the right way and the easy way?” Let this be my creed.

Goodbyes and an epiphany

Sometimes people ask me why I’m such a huge football fan. I tell them that my very earliest memories are of sitting at the local football stadium watching games. By the age of 5 I had taught myself the different positions, scoring and could even anticipate how a play would flesh out.

Why? Because I’m the daughter of a band director. And let me tell you, that led to a childhood that was maybe not the “norm”. My childhood consisted of football games and marching bands and concert halls. Trips to Disney were not family events; they were field trips that we tagged along for. Birthdays were spent at marching competitions. And my dad was busy. Very busy. But he loved us even more than he loved his music, so we tagged along on all of his adventures. And as I grew up, I became one of his countless students and learned first-hand how passionate he was about developing great musicians and helping his kids become productive people. It was his calling.

Last night it all ended. After 38 years of teaching (33 at the same school) he decided to retire. One final concert was the exclamation point on a career that was so much more than a job: it was his life. And as the final note of “Happy Trails” (a cheeky choice that somehow still managed to become very emotional) reverberated through the auditorium, I stood with tears streaming down my cheeks as I applauded the band and my father. The tears came from a sense of pride, but also sadness. This was not only the end of my dad’s journey, but also our family’s. I was sad for myself. Because I loved what my dad’s career meant to our entire family. It was a crazy, fun adventure. I experienced so many things and went so many places and met so many people because of music. Because of Dad. And I was sorry to close that chapter of my life.

As I drove home last night, I had an epiphany of sorts. I’ve been struggling with guilt when it comes to running and my son. 2 nights a week I go out and run after work, missing precious time with my son. On weekends I do a long training run. And race days consist of early mornings and a tired mommy. I love running so much. But I love my son more. And I questioned whether or not I’m doing the right thing when I spend time doing something as selfish as running for myself.

But then I thought of my own childhood. I followed along as my dad lived out his passion through his career. And I loved it. Why don’t I think that Gavin might feel the same way someday? I bring him and Will along to as many races as I can and I’m always explaining to him what I’m doing and why. I’m a happier, healthier person and mommy when I take some time to live my life. My career is just a career. And that’s fine; it’s something that provides me with a paycheck and enables me to help support my sweet family. So my passion is with running right now. And that’s a good thing. For me and for Gavin.

My wish is that my son will grow up to be happy and healthy and content in life. Why not help him achieve that by showing an example of it myself? Like my dad did for me.

Thanks for the epiphany, Dad. And for setting an example of how to live your life.

From there to here. And moving on to the next phase.

One thing I haven’t talked about here often is my weight loss journey. And it has been a journey! I spent the first 24 years of my life pretty much at a healthy weight. Sure, I could’ve dropped about 5lbs but I was healthy. And happy. And being happy in your own skin, I’ve learned, is priceless. It’s hard to understand just how much so until you no longer feel that way.

Around the age of 24 I transitioned to life in a cubicle. And my body protested. I really don’t blame it. Sitting at a desk for 8.5 hours a day is unnatural. It goes against what the human body was designed for, what it was built to do. Did I mention I also had a 1 hr commute each way? Yep, that’s a total of about 10.5 waking hours per day spent sedentary. My diet didn’t initially change and as a result, my body did. First it was 5, then 10, then eventually 20 lbs. I felt awful, inside and out. Unfortunately, that awful feeling wasn’t enough to inspire to make any real changes for quite awhile. I half-assed my way through some diets, Weight Watchers, and even some gym time. But I was a yo-yo, in a constant state of fluctuation.

When Will and I became engaged and picked a wedding date, I decided it was time to do something. And do something drastic. I signed up to go to a weight loss clinic and paid tons of money to essentially abuse my body. I survived on 500 calories a day eating only meats and a small amount of veggies. Yep, 500 calories total. With B6 injections and a pretty scary prescription medicine, phendimetrazine, which would often leave me shaking, unable to sleep, and throwing up what little I ate. It worked, I dropped 23 lbs quickly. And looked amazing for our wedding and honeymoon.

Making friends with a piggy on my honeymoon. Foreshadowing, perhaps?

The only problem? What happens when you stop the meds and the drastic diet. We were married on October 24, 2009. On December 24th we received a Christmas miracle, me being pregnant. In those 2 months, I had already gained 10lbs back just from eating normally and not taking the meds. It went from bad to worse. As I’ve touched on in this blog, my pregnancy was riddled with complications and setbacks. I was forbidden from exercising from the 8wk mark and ended up on bedrest for the last few months. Add in preeclampsia, and you guessed it: I turned into a Laura balloon. My very last weigh-in the night before my c-section found me at 62 lbs heavier than my wedding day.

I won’t bore you with the details, but that weight loss only served to compound the crippling postpartum depression I suffered with after giving birth. I hated myself. And I mean Hate with a capital H. It hurt to look in the mirror; I didn’t even recognize the person staring back at me.

Last April we got home from a cruise and when I discovered I couldn’t even look at a picture of myself, I decided it was time to do something. I signed up for Weight Watchers and showed up, terrified that it wasn’t going to work. But it did. Following the plan was hard, but it was liberating. It’s the only diet I’ve ever been on that allows you “cheats” in moderation. And that helped. Realizing that I have an addictive personality, I know that I cannot be successful long-term on a plan like Paleo or Atkins. I accept that I do not have the fortitude to forever give up on things that I enjoy. And that’s cool. Between Weight Watchers and running, I’m down 37 lbs from where I started last April.

The problem is, I’m back on a plateau. My weight has levelled off the past two months and although I’m running, walking and biking more than ever, the scale is just not budging. Marathon training starts in July. I owe it to this body of mine to be in the best shape I can be to tackle those 26.2 miles. I need to lose another 23 lbs to be back where I was on my wedding day. Only this time I want to reach that number in a healthy manner. I’m starting to think of some different things I can try to “shock” my system into losing again. My WW leader says that these plateaus can be normal and you just have to keep trying new things until something works.

I’m open for suggestions. In the meantime, I’ll be posting some of my crazy (but safe!) ideas here and updating you on the results.

23 lbs for 26.2 miles. Sounds like a fair deal to me.

An unwelcome respite

wist·ful
/ˈwistfəl/
Adjective
Having or showing a feeling of vague or regretful longing.
Synonyms
pensive – thoughtful – longing – wishful – sad

Remember when you were a kid and you would stare out the window of your classroom all morning, just longing for the recess bell so you could go outside and run and jump and play and live? That’s where I am right now.

I am on Day 9 of complete rest due to a relapse of pneumonia. Day 9! Nine days of sitting inside during my morning break and lunch break. Missing out on the last little bit of cool weather that will grace us here in Florida until at least October. Missing the gorgeous sunsets, the smell of fresh-cut grass, the sunshine on my face and the wonderful feeling I get at the end of a workout. This respite has taught me something important: I need exercise. It’s essential not only to my physical health, but also my mental well-being.

And to think a year ago I was just trying to force myself to run for 20 minutes at a time without quitting. And I hated every single step! Exercise was a nuisance and a waste of my important time. I look back at myself with pity. I had no idea what I was missing out on.

Running makes me a better person. A happier person. A more content person. And I realize now that the “victory” in all of this won’t be from any PR or distance completed or milestone achieved. It is simply the fact that I am a better version of myself now. And I’m grateful for that.

Like a caged bird, I know this environment is unnatural for me. I can’t wait to get back outside where I belong.

In my head

In my head, Amy Poehler and Tina Fey still do the Weekend Report on SNL.
Gas is still $1.24
Grandma and MacMac are still just a phone call away (to be precise, 352.799.6786.. how do I remember that?)
My girlfriends, my soulmates, are not spread out across the country. We’re still in Tallahassee together.
My parents are in their 40’s, not entering retirement.
Sex in the City is still trendy and relevant.
There’s still plenty of time. For whatever.
I’m still impossibly young, slightly irreverent, and always depended upon to bring the fun.

But then I look at the calendar. And the mirror. And I feel like time is moving faster than I am. This tilted globe is spinning impossibly fast yet I am slow. I look backwards too often and wish… I don’t know. Wish I had enjoyed that time in my life more. Wish I had valued it for what it was. Wish I still had the opportunities, and the passion, and the drive. Wish that people could see me now as they saw me then. Wish that I could see myself now as I saw myself then.

I feel as if I have creeped into the next stage of life (whatever that stage may be) in the past few years and didn’t even notice, so tied up in my career and getting married and having Gavin. And I’m trying to figure out just who I am now and how I can fit myself into this world that is changing more quickly than I can keep up with.

And so I run. Because I’ve noticed that as I’m pounding the pavement for mile after mile, I find myself being the closest thing to comfortable in my own skin that I’ve experienced in quite a while. When I run, I’m still the same girl I used to be. I can’t keep the world the same as I once knew. But maybe I can keep her. And maybe the passion and drive is still there somewhere.

Letting it all hang out. BareDare 5k recap.

So. I ran a nude 5k. Will and I were at FitNiche a month or so ago and I saw this ad in the race calendar. I was laughing and horrified all at the same time. My friends tell me that I’m a little crazy and have a “fondness for the absurd” and this definitely fit the bill. After a lot of back and forth, I made a decision last night to go run it. What the heck, right?

Actually, it was a “clothing optional” 5k at Caliente Resort. I exercised my option to wear clothing because a) I’m a conservative southern gal at heart b) motherhood changes the body and c) the girls appreciate a supportive sports bra.
There are at least a dozen other reasons, but those are the biggies.

This is going to be a different kind of race recap because, hey, this was a different kind of race. I arrived at Caliente around 7:30 and the race was at 8:30. Apparently nudists don’t like running at the crack of dawn like most other runners. Score one for the naked kids! I did race day registration and walked up with no line and signed up. It was like a normal 5k set-up: volunteers were fully clothed sitting at the tent taking care of registrations and packet pick up. $35 scored me a race bracelet, goody bag, and super soft race shirt. The irony of handing out shirts at a nudist resort wasn’t lost on me.

At that point I figured I’d hang out around the start line til it was time to go. It was a little chilly out and I started getting cold in my Brooks skirt and Old Navy tank top. And then I looked around. There were men wearing light jackets to combat the cold. But they didn’t have pants on. At this point a nervous giggle escaped so I decided to head back to my car and wait til the start. I sat in the driver’s seat and kept glancing in the rear view mirror. It was like watching an accident: you didn’t want to look, but you couldn’t look away.

Around 8:20 I headed to the start line and joined the crowd of about 200 runners. I’m guessing 90% were nude. Found some people wearing kilts and hung out with them for a bit then moved to the very back as I didn’t want to slow anybody down. At that point they played the national anthem and the absurdity of the whole thing hit me. As I stood with my hand over my heart amongst a sea of naked bodies, I realized this was going to be a race to remember. After the anthem my shoes felt a little loose so I kneeled down to re-tie them. Big mistake. Putting myself eye-level with the goods of a 70+ yr man probably wasn’t my most intelligent moment.

I didn’t hear a gun or a start but suddenly we were off and running. The course started by the pool and took off all around the resort. Here’s what surprised me: Caliente was gorgeous!!! It’s a tropical resort with a hotel, condos, and even regular houses. The landscaping is beautiful, the houses are really nice and there’s a lot of $$$ put into this place. We ran on the streets and a paved footpath around a small lake. People sat out on their porches eating breakfast and cheering us on. It was like a perfectly normal Sunday morning scene: people were out walking dogs, watering their gardens, working on their cars… they were just naked.

I ended up sticking to a 3:1 interval and pushed myself. The sun was really starting to hit me but it was so nice knowing it was only 3 miles (the last 5k I ran was back in November) so I kept up a good pace for me. Ended up setting a pretty massive PR! Finished in 35:48 which actually was over 7 minutes faster than my previous best! Hooray! And this was a USATF certified course and my Garmin verified the time. After that, I grabbed some water and decided it was time to go. While the race registration included use of the resort and pool for the day, I refrained. Jumped into the car and headed out of there past naked people walking around in sombreros, laughing to myself that I actually did it. And had a great time! The people were friendly, the course was beautiful and I got a PR… not bad! Now, if only I could erase some images from my mind… 🙂

Instead of doing my normal good, bad, and takeaways, I’ll just post some random observations:
* There were no race bibs. I was disappointed because I wanted to see how that was going to work.
* There were varying degrees of nudity. While most just wore sneakers and a smile, others mixed it up. Some wore pants and no shirt. Some wore sports bras with no pants. And one gentleman wore some sort of device/strap that appeared to hold his, umm, equipment in place.
* Acne can show up in really unfortunate places.
* I was expecting more barefoot runners.
* Gold Bond seems to do good business there.
* I still don’t understand how the guys managed to run with, umm, appendages swinging around. I had to bite my tongue not to laugh because it was so absurd looking.
* The course was out-and-back so I had the frontal view as well as the rear view. In hindsight, this probably helped propel me to a PR as my eyes could only handle so much.
* There was quite a mix of people there: I definitely expected a lot of older gentleman and young, beautiful women. And they were there. But there was everything in-between: young, old, big, small, black, white, you name it. Seemed to be a lot of college age kids.
* I used KT Tape on my knee even though it was a short race and it definitely seemed to help. Once again, zero pain. This stuff is a miracle.

Next up on the list is a half marathon in June that’s off-road with obstacles thrown in. Looking forward to it! In the meantime, I’m glad I did this today! Life’s too short to waste an opportunity for a little fun and absurdity!