milestone

Ray of Light

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I did it! I did it! Oh yes I DID IT!!!
What did I do? I didn’t just run 3.1 miles, I sailed by it and by the time I realized what was going on, I ran for 40 minutes for 3.6 miles!

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Faster than the speeding light she’s flying
Trying to remember where it all began…
A million years ago, it seems, I decided that someday I wanted to run alongside my husband. He started running, and I looked at him like something so foreign. How was he just… Doing it? How? It was impossible, but alluring. I decided that alongside my life’s goals list of things like growing my hair to my waist and planting a sunflower garden, I wanted to add: be a runner sometime. I wanted to be one of those couples you see all duded up in their runner’s gear, huffing along, side by side down the trail. I decided I wanted to run a marathon. Or a half marathon. Or a 5K. Or SOMETHING that would make me feel like an athlete. I made goals, promises, got ideas. Then I started moving.
She’s got herself a little piece of heaven
Waiting for the time when earth shall be as one
It started with a few steps at the beginning of March, less than two months ago. I remember running to Katy Perry, just to see what would happen. It huuurt! My lungs, legs, knees, hips- it all hurt. The next time I ran thirty seconds. Then a minute. And more and more and more. Finally it was a half mile in 12 minutes, then the mile! It was amazing how fast the time seemed to stack up, a quarter mile seemed like nothing, then a half mile was pretty simple and then the mile, suddenly miles compressed and fused together… It just seemed to take on a life of its own right under my feet.
Quicker than a ray of light
Quicker than a ray of light
Quicker than a ray of light
I started adding distance, not worrying about times and signed up for my race. The training had to begin in earnest. I knew I had to persevere and refuse to let fear keep me from making that 3.1 mile goal. I started pushing, going slow, steady, and stopped paying attention to my Strava run tracker. I closed my brain off, pushed away the fear and let my body do it. I let go.
And I feel
And I feel like I just got home
And I feel
And the last moment, right when I figured out I screamed past 3.1 miles (5K) all the way to 3.6 miles was a thrilling one! I raised my hands over my head, crowed like Peter Pan and burst into a sprint the rest of the way home! I was a gazelle! I felt so bouncy, so amazing and so powerful as I cantered the rest of the way home. This body is such a gift.
Quicker than a ray of light she’s flying
Quicker than a ray of light I’m flying
***
(Thank you to Madonna for singing me home)

My Almost 5K

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I went out today just with the intention of running off some mega calories I consumed at Ben and Jerry’s. I don’t often go off diet, but when I do I make sure to do it exactly in the biggest, most delicious way. So, yes, please to candy bar pie and chocolate crazed deliciousness flavor. It was so rich I was actually one of those people who says, “Oh my, that is just too rich for me,” and then pushed it towards my husband’s mouth. Those people make me feel guilty for finishing my ice cream cone, so please don’t hate me. I’ll be more subtle next time.
Anyhow, I came home and Bradley hemmed and hawed about whether or not he should go running with me (he is losing his extra fat fast!). In the end he chose to save his knee and I headed out with the goal of hitting at least a 1.5. I hit 1.5 and then decided to try for two. But after I looked that last time I just let go. Dan Savage was telling me scandalous things in my ear and I lost track of time, told my body to get over itself and I ran. I ran and ran and ran and didn’t stop. Not once. Not when I ran up the hill, or the next hill, or when I ran up my driveway to get my dog, or crossing the road, or… Ever. I didn’t stop until I hit my porch for the last time and I threw myself on my bench, steam rising from my completely soaked shirt. 2.8 miles in 36 minutes. I ran for 36 minutes and 49 seconds WITHOUT STOPPING.* Me. There is a part of me that wishes I had just continued on around the block one last time so I could finish out the 5k completely, but there is another part of me that is just proud enough and happy to look forward to the inevitable milestone that is bound to happen next week. I can run three miles without stopping now. My 5K is gong to be such a celebration. I cannot wait until the Color Me Rad Race!!! I am so happy that I know I will be successful now. I know I can do it. I kinda just did.

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The first picture is at the beginning, the second moments after I arrived home.
*I have decided that it is most important for me to get miles under my feet more than I need to be fast right now. So I am going slow, yes, but I am going further!

1.75

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Here’s the great thing about having lived a life in fear of physical activity- I was afraid of so much that I have lots of celebrations and milestones that are all kind of piling up now! My body is chock full of opportunities to show me how efficiently it really can work! Add losing weight to that and I feel like I’m crowing about some new accomplishment or milestone every other day! It feels good, though.
Today I have another milestone. I ran 1.75 miles WITHOUT STOPPING! My average mph was a bit over ten (I’m terrible with the math for some reason) per mile and my total run time was 17:03 minutes. A bit over 10 minute mile? Amazeballs! So taking long strides made a huge difference! I remember not so long ago when I ran for 12 straight minutes and made it about half a mile. That was barely a month ago! I still look at that as such a ginormous accomplishment. Running 17 minutes straight and making 1.75 miles is unfathomable. But, I just did it, so I guess not.
(If you read this an hour or two ago, I had all kinds of wrong numbers in here. I tried doing the math for what my mph was WHILE running up the hill trying to distract myself. I got two steps into my equations, couldn’t process and just thought oh! I guess I ran this much this fast BUT I LEFT OFF A QUARTER MILE! Silly ole me.)
***
Motivation
When Gigi was a baby I had this horrible dream one night. I was at the Bellingham Bellis Fair Mall over by the Red Robin (for those not in the know, it is a huge parking area that is rarely occupied, so there is lots of free space) and my car wouldn’t start. Of course, it’s the middle of the night in the dream, the mall is closed and no one is around. Gigi was just a baby in the dream too and all of the sudden this guy rides up in a motorcycle with a milk crate tied on the back with bungee cords. He grabs Gigi and I manage to barely get up as he’s stepping away from me with her. He’s mocking me as he backs slowly up to his motorcycle, drops Gigi in the crate and tries to start the cycle. I know that if I run I can catch him, I start running awkwardly, my knees hurt, my muscles burn, I’m almost there. His bike fails and I keep running, but I get so exhausted and I’m so out of practice with any kind of physical activity that my muscles are just apathetic. Tired, failing, I lose my balance and barely brush the edge of her sweater with my fingertips as he rides away, her little dark eyes staring back at me through the darkness. I try to run, but know it’s pointless. And there I am, completely helpless to save her, crying, wondering if I will ever see her again, what will happen to her, to our family, how I will explain this to everyone, and how I am going to live with this for the rest of my life? In the dream I knew that if I had been more physically fit that I wouldn’t have watched her ride away. I could have saved her. If only I could run. Even a little.
Determination
Today I joke that if the movie Zombieland were accurate, while I wouldn’t be the fastest of the runners to get away, I wouldn’t be the slowest either. I would have a chance, however small, because I do cardio and I can run a mile, now a mile and a half, without stopping. While a mile isn’t very far if zombies are coming, I also know that over time my endurance would pick up, that I would get faster, that my body is capable. It’s showing me that right now. I don’t need to succumb to the zombies, to give up. And while I’m being kind of silly about the zombies, I’m dead serious about being so happy to have yet one more tool that can help to take care of my kids. No man is gonna throw my baby into a milk crate! And if he tries, he will feel the wrath of Tam-RAH!
***
I have to humbly acknowledge that I am amassing a small readership (small because how can that many people be this awesome, amiright?!). I want to say welcome and thank you for coming. I welcome your presence, your feedback, your questions and comments!

Mile in the Hood

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I watched the sky today. I watched the clouds gather, the sun peek through, the drops fall little by little. By the time I headed out to pick up my daughter from school I needed an umbrella. Rain. RAIN. Have I mentioned how much I love running in the rain??

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My husband sneaked this picture of me from his office window as I took off. One time around my block is exactly a mile, stepping from my driveway and back to it. It makes for some pretty simple measurement. So off I flew around the block, looking to endure, to train for my rad race.

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I made the entire mile without stopping in 11:15. I sat down on my porch, heaved steam into the rainy air, then headed back out for another mile. That one I ran about halfway before I decided that I didn’t want to be stupid and earn another injury. But 11:15? Yes, it is slow still, but those kinds of numbers are just a small shift away from running a 30 minute 5K.
Funny thing about that though, I’m getting faster. Without trying, my body is leaning into the run, picking up the pace. Today I practiced lengthening my stride. I felt like the BFG as I gal-umpfed my long-legged strides down the street. I am learning that speed doesn’t necessarily mean taking more steps faster, for me it might just mean instilling the habit of taking longer steps. My 5’9″ height should give me a bit of an advantage there.
***
I don’t have a specific method of telling my readership about weight goals made, but this morning I had a significant and emotional shift.
I hopped on the scale just like I do every morning after I pee. The numbers flickered between 240 to 252. it stopped. Then I hopped off. That couldn’t be right. Then I hopped back on. No way. I weighed 250 last night. I didn’t pee that much! And off again, a shift of the scale, then on again. I whispered to my still-sleeping husband, “I weigh 246 this morning.” For some reason that number has weight and significance to me. Before I got too noisy, I rushed into my closet and closed it before I started sobbing. Someone I know hit 245 not so long ago and I was like, wow. She looks tiny. Delicate. Petite, almost, compared to the heavier version of herself. I was amazed. So to be at this point that I admired so deeply in this woman I respect so much seems overwhelming in a way. Don’t worry. I dried my tears and stopped my sobs in no time and was able to move on with my morning. But yeah, 246. Big fat deal. Seriously.

Presents? For Moi?!

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I have spent a good amount of time reading my fair share of weightloss blogs. You can see a few of my favorites in the links menu to the right here. —->

One of the things I’ve seen fairly consistently is the dangling of the carrot. The external reward. The physical motivator!

My primary motivator is, of course, the time I’m earning back that I get to tack onto the end of my life. Of course, that is only a plan. As Ben Gibbard says, “And it came to me then that every plan is a tiny prayer to father time.” I get to hope, I get to make it as healthy as possible for myself, but I don’t get to choose much else. Because my other favorite quote is this one: “Time truly flies. If we’re lucky, we get to fly right along with it.” Or something like that by my most favorite poet Tyler Knott Gregson. I’m playing for time. I hope I get REALLY lucky and I get to fly through time for a long time. But if I don’t have luck on my side, perhaps good health will hedge things in my direction.

But I wonder… Would losing weight be more fun if pressies were involved along the way? Frankly, isn’t most everything more fun with presents? Like, seriously?!

I’ll admit that the ultimate prize would be to get rid of the surplus flesh once the contents have been evacuated. That is a sincere hope but I’m holding off on getting too excited about that just yet (I bald face lied right there – I’m freaking obsessed with getting a tummy tuck. I just don’t wanna seem vapid or premature!!!). Anywho…

So along the way…
Maybe some new summer dresses?
Or some cute shoes…
A pedicure?
And I’ve already promised myself new boots when I reach my forty by forty goal. Pretty boots. Nice boots. Boots that will last longer than a season.

Don’t hate me but I’m having fun with my diet right now. I’ve got that in-control, power-high thing going on that happens once the diet and exercise become habit rather than a pain, the calorie counting seems like a puzzle rather than a punishment and you rather enjoy stepping on the scale every morning and watching the numbers as they just keep going down. Sorry, but that’s fun.