Finding My Mojo

Talking via text with my friend Debi today I’ve determined I’ve lost my mojo. Not for running, but for my weight loss I think. I’ve actually been staring at a blank “Add New Post” screen for almost 3 hours trying to get my thoughts together about what I should write. I started this blog to document my training for  The Phoenix Marathon for friends and family who are interested in my journey. I used to really hate it when people would say things like: “this is my journey, or I’ve lost x amount of pounds on my journey”. I felt the word “journey”  was overused and kind of annoying, but I’ve been thinking a lot about it lately and admittedly it really is a “journey”. There is no other or better word or term to describe it so succinctly.

So I’ve decided today I need to talk about where I am at in my journey. I need to start being honest with myself and holding myself accountable again, not just for my training, but for my weight loss as well. Maybe if I write things out I can get them sorted out, because right now in my head it’s all a jumbled mess. Maybe if I write more often my posts won’t be so long either… But to write about where I am currently, I need to start at the beginning.

This was me in May of 2010 at my cousin Kelly’s wedding:

I weighed around 170 which was the heaviest I had been. I started teaching at a new school in August of the same year and a parent had requested to take a picture of me and her daughter at meet the teacher night. A few months went by and in November for my birthday the parent and her child gave me a darling photo holder complete with photos from meet the teacher night. When they left I began to cry. Looking at those photos pushed me over the edge. I knew I was overweight, especially for my height. I am a biscuit taller than 5 foot.  I looked like an Oompa Loompa in that picture. I was perfectly round. Now I knew where the term “butterball came from”. If I had tail feathers I could easily be mistaken for a fat turkey ready for Thanksgiving.  I had not stepped on a scale in a long time and had no plans to do so. I don’t have those pictures to share with you, as the parent had them in her camera; but just imagine me in the picture from above…but blown up like a balloon.

I knew I had to do something, but didn’t know what. I was frustrated and (at that time) felt I had no one to talk to about it. My friends were all beautiful, skinny, and had never struggled with weight issues.  They loved me for who I was; but I didn’t feel comfortable talking to them about it. Without having been there what advice or words of wisdom could they share with me? I toyed with the idea of joining Weight Watchers. I had been on the program twice before. The first time I had thought I was big at 25 pounds less than what I was at this point. I never got to goal and earned lifetime membership, and due to finances had to quit. The second time was probably about a year later. I had lost about 20 pounds  the first time on program, and had gained back. The second time around I was about 23 pounds down when I hit a plateau for about 2 months. I did not lose one pound and kept fluctuating between the same .6 for the two months. My leader had not been very supportive or warm and fuzzy and did not feel comfortable talking to her. I was frustrated and annoyed and didn’t know what to do to get my weight loss flowing again. Once again, I quit the program.

Even though I was contemplating it, I was afraid to join Weight Watchers again because I didn’t want to have the same results. Medical weight loss was not an option. On a teachers salary,  I couldn’t afford a weight-loss program where they give you all the food so that was out. I stewed on it, frustrated myself, binge ate my unhappiness (counterproductive I know), and was miserable for about a month.

Around the second week of December of 2010 the school nurse called me. I was still new at the school and wasn’t really sure if I should be offended our not when Peg called and asked if I wanted to participate in the weight-loss challenge our school district was promoting. Every school could participate and would consist of teams. The challenge would begin the week school let out for winter break and would end spring break, roughly 3 months. I asked her if I could think about it and let her know. I went home and once again stewed. At first I took it personally thinking, “Of course Peg would call me, I’m the biggest girl in the school, she wouldn’t call Cassie and ask her if she wanted to participate because she’s skinny”. Then I gave myself a little mental slap for being stupid. Why would she call any of the skinny teachers? It’s a weight-loss challenge for crying out loud. Then I started to think maybe this was the push I needed. That night I saw a commercial for Weight Watchers my decision was made. Weight Watchers was changing the program to something called Points Plus. It was a new program. As Jennifer Hudson said “A New Year, A New Program, A New You”. Or something to that effect. I saw 5 more of those commercials over the space of that evening. I took it as a sign. The next day at school I told Peg I was in.

The premise of the challenge was each school would have a team of no more than 10 ( I think) and would compete against each other for greatest weight loss and greatest percentage of body fat lost. Our school had 11 or 12 I think, so we broke it into two teams. We had to go to the local YMCA to be weighed and have our body fat percentage measured. Our team went together the last day of school before the holiday. We decided to weigh together as a group so we could help keep each other accountable and there would be nothing to hide from each other.

I was mortified when it was my turn. I was the shortest one of the group standing at only 5’2. I was also officially the heaviest of the group. I knew I was overweight when I saw that picture from Kelly’s wedding because I weighed myself after that and saw the 170, this time I knew I fell into the category of being obese. I weighed 189.2 according to the YMCA scale. I also had a body fat percentage of 47%. I was nearly half fat. The other members of my team fell in the 30’s for their percentage. The closest one to my weight was in the 160’s and she was about 7 inches taller than me.

I went home feeling so despondent and horrible about myself. How had I let myself get that way? I was disgusted by myself and cried for hours.  I know I’m a stress eater. I also like to eat my feelings. The funny thing is, I’m such a picky eater you would think I don’t eat much; but I do like to eat all the things that are bad for you. My winter vacation started the next day, so I found a Weight Watchers meeting and signed up. Even though traditionally you weigh less in the morning, when I went to the meeting to sign up (on an empty stomach and at 10am) I weighed more than I had the afternoon before. Weight Watchers had my official starting weight down at 189.6. I was almost 190 pounds. That was just a few donuts short of 200 pounds. My “healthy weight” for my height is supposed to be between 117 and 137.

I vowed to begin the program the next day so my program week would begin on Thursdays. I did decide I wasn’t really feeling the leader that was teaching my group. She was nice and seemed very knowledgeable but I just did not click with her personality. Plus I wouldn’t be able to attend her meetings once winter break was over. I spent some time attending a few other meetings looking for a leader I thought “fit”. I think it’s very important to mesh well with people who are going to be effecting your life. If you aren’t motivated or just sit there like part of the scenery, how much impact will that really have on you?

I finally went to a Wednesday evening meeting and found Debi. She was funny, she was informative, she was friendly, and most of all; she was a real person. She welcomed me when I came to the meeting and talked to me a little at the scale when I weighed in that week (I was down about 3 pounds from the week before but I am going on the theory that you weigh more at night and since that was an evening meeting, I probably lost more than the 3 had I weighed in the morning as I did when I joined). She knew most of her members by name which seemed very reassuring to me. She also talked about her struggles with weight. That put her in the “real person” category to me. To put it in perspective, it’s like watching a commercial for hair color. (For lack of a clear example right now) The women in those color commercials have bright, shiny, healthy hair with beautiful color. Usually these women are celebrities. You know darn well they did not get their hair out of a $7.99 box of hair color. They are just an advertisement. They work for the hair color company as a model. They aren’t real. Debi told us flat-out she struggled with her weight and continued to struggle with her weight. There is no “cure” for food issues. Weight Watchers was there to help deal with those issues, teach healthier habits, and make a lifetime change rather than a quick fix. I loved that she was so open and honest with us.

I decided I found a meeting that fit. I was going to attend meetings every week, rain or shine, I would work the program to the best of my abilities, and I would ask for help if I needed it. (That is one of my big downfalls-asking for help. I don’t want to be percieved as weak, or like I can’t take care of myself.) Debi was awesome at providing that help when the time came. Losing weight and making changes was not easy for me. I struggled every single day. I knew I had my team at school counting on me to keep our numbers up for the weight-loss challenge, but I was also counting on myself to make a change. I was not happy with myself and if you aren’t happy with yourself, how are you supposed to be happy with anything else? I had a low self-esteem, I was timid, I was afraid of life. unwittingly in the last 5 years or so I had built and proceeded to lock myself into a cage. I was keeping myself prisoner and didn’t know how to let myself out.

I know this blog post has gotten a little long so I will end here for now and work on part two for tomorrow. To be continued…

Random Thoughts on a Great Run

Chumba Wumba was oddly inspirational for me today. Well, Chumba Wumba and Eminem.  Yes, I have a very eclectic mix on my iPod but that will have to be a post for another day.  I’m still not feeling 100%  from the weekend bout of stomach ickiness I was subject to,  and was seriously considering either not going or only running a mile. I was certain the minute I started running, my stomach would start doing flips and my head would feel like little trolls were going to work with jack hammers. Instead, I had the best run I’ve had in a while!

Something came over me after I trudged through the first mile and I just found my groove and went with it. My pace improved exponentially today, and I felt amazing! I’ve heard people talk about ‘hitting the wall’ in a marathon after mile 20 or so. I think my personal wall is during mile one.

During the first mile I feel awkward and uncoordinated. I feel like my legs are akin to those of the Barbie’s I had growing up. Yes, they bend at the knees, but make a horrific crackling sound when bent and that’s really the only part of my leg that’s pliable.  No one has ever accused me of being graceful. You know how babies sometimes look like drunks when they are first learning to walk? That’s how I feel like I look during that first mile. I always wonder if people driving by me wonder what I’m actually doing… Is it running, walking, did I get stung by a bee and I’m trying to get it off of me? Am I trying out some new dance moves? Who knows? (See, these are the things that go through my head when I’m running).

I know for me, my asthma and my breathing patterns have a lot to do with the way I run. I need that first mile to get myself under control and into a breathing cadence that will actually help me instead of hyperventilating until I pass out and crack my skull on the concrete. Who knows how long I would lie there, bleeding into the gutter until someone found  me?

“They” say to run at a conversation pace. Seriously, can someone explain to me what that is? For me a ‘conversational’ pace is zero. I’d have to be standing still. I am too busy trying to remember to breathe, and watching the ground in front of me to even remember to have a conversation with a running partner much less actually attempting to have one. I’m afraid if I ran with someone else and said person tried to ask me something that would require a response, I’d mumble something unintelligible or go completely off topic and make no sense what-so-ever. “So, how are your grandparents doing?” or “How is school going?” My response: “Blue”.

Back to Chumba Wumba,  I certainly did get knocked down this weekend, but I’ve gotten up again and my run today proves it. No matter what my issues are “they are never gonna keep me down”.

Weeks 2 and 3 (still unofficial) training

So in the last two weeks I have run a little over 5 miles. I am not thrilled about that fact. At the end of my first week of ‘unofficial’ training, I started experiencing a pain in my leg. I’m not sure if it’s my hip flexor or a groin muscle, or some other kind of muscle (not being a doctor and unable to diagnose myself and all). All I know is, it hurt.

I fully intended on running my short runs the rest of the week, but as the late John Lennon said, “Life is what happens while you’re busy making other plans”. It was conference week at school, I was getting ready for my formal observation, I had a lot going on at home, etc…I was disappointed that I was unable to run, but a part of me was relieved; as I kept thinking maybe those pesky things I had to take care of were popping up for a reason and I was supposed to take that as a sign to rest. Well (unintentionally)  I did rest until that following Sunday.

I was feeling good and it was a near perfect day for running. The Arizona sun wasn’t too vicious and beating down on me like usual, I could hear a rooster crowing somewhere in the distance (some of the neighbors have farm animals which I still find odd as we are in the middle of a bustling city). Traffic was very light, it wasn’t too chilly and there was even a hot air balloon hovering in the skyline right in my line of sight. I was happy, I had my music going, and my brain wasn’t working overtime trying to solve life’s problem;, I just was.

I ran really well for the first 3 miles. I was very proud of myself as my pace had not been very good when I first started back running. In fact I had been over the top annoyed at the fact that my pace was so horrible; but this day, my pace had improved drastically. I felt like I was strong, my legs were powerful, my lungs were cooperating and most importantly: I felt like a runner again.

And then right after I hit mile 3 my leg started hurting again. I grimaced and did what most runners do, and ran through the pain. By the end of my 5.21 miles I felt like I wanted to just rip off my leg, take a spoon and dig out whatever was in there causing me pain. Kind of a gross visual I know; but this is where my mind was at the time. I got home and stretched really well, I iced it several times, and pretty much just took it easy for the rest of the day. I knew I had family coming in the following Wednesday and that my ‘official’ training started the following week on the 29th so I decided to ditch the rest of my “training for my training” and just rest.

My biggest fear is that somehow I will end up with an injury and will not be able to run the marathon in March. Not only would I be disappointed and not to mention, crushed; but I think everyone who is secretly rooting for me would be disappointed as well. This marathon to me right now is my motivation, my focus, and my goal. I’m one of those people who needs to have something concrete on the horizon to look forward too. It gives me purpose and makes me feel like I’m not just spinning my wheels. I feel like I’ve been stuck in a rut and this has helped to pull me out. Needless to say, being sidelined by an injury is not something I want to happen.

I am going to try to take it slow, do my stretches, keep seeing my chiropractor (whom I have been going to for horrible headaches), and stick to my training plan. I am scheduled to run a half-marathon on Sunday November 4th. I know I will not be able to run the whole thing and I’ve had to get used to that idea and become okay with it. At first I was mad at myself. I registered for this half a long time ago. It’s the Women’s Running Magazine/Lady Speedstick Half-Marathon from Scottsdale to Tempe. I did the 5k last year and it was my first race ever. This year the half was supposed to be my “full-circle” run to prove how far I’ve come.

After being angry at myself for a little while, this injury has actually helped me to put things in perspective. I need to stop being so hard on myself and realize that even though I will not be able to run the whole thing; because: A. I haven’t been running steadily for the last 6 months, and B. I am nursing an injury; it’s okay. I can use this as a training run for the biggest goal I have ever set for myself. This is just a stepping stone to a greater purpose and it’s okay that I am not ready. Pushing myself too hard will just frustrate me and cause me to back off on my training and I don’t want to go there.

I’m trying to adopt an “It is what it is” attitude  and just go with the flow. For those who know me, you know this is a hard thing for me to do as I admittedly have some slight control issues. I am beginning to think training for this marathon may be a way to help reinvent myself as a more relaxed, less doubtful, more confident Jamie. I have come a long way in the last year and I don’t need to be able to run a half-marathon right away after taking time off, to be able to prove it to myself. It’s not just about my weight loss, but it is about my level of determination and the ability to believe that I CAN do anything I want. The word ‘can’t’ is no longer in my vocabulary and hasn’t been for a very long time…