Fatty, Fatty, Two by Four...

I looked in the mirror today and saw all the blubber still surrounding my body parts. I have to admit, it's a bit discouraging to lose a good chunk of weight and know that there is still so much more that needs to come off. Truly, 60+ pounds off of my body is nothing to sneeze at, but when I sit down and still have a belly or the side fat sticks between my ribs and arms, or I get a good glimpse of the side-knee fat, well, let's just say it reminds me that I can never give up.

Before all of this, however, over the weekend Sam informed me that I looked like a bag lady. I was wearing old clothes that I've had for awhile and just can't seem to let go of for the time being.  I laughed because it's funny, but at the same time, I know there is a part of me that fears giving up old clothes. After all, I've never had a point in life that I didn't gain the weight back. Why would this time be any different? There are reasons for it to have a different outcome this time, but it's tough to admit that when all I've known is defeat in the past. I don't want to have a negative outlook about all of this, but when people tell me to "visualize" what I will be in the future, I don't even know where to go with that thought. I often picture someone else who has a body I'd hope to have. Let's face it, when one has never been a normal body weight, how can one have an image of what it will be at some arbitrary point in the future?

This is the "bag lady" ensemble for the day (apologies for the fuzzy photo).

Yep, I actually fit in one leg of the pants... kinda crazy... mind you, they weren't tight before, but still.

So, after all of this, I decided that I needed to continue my quest to find some cold weather clothes. I haven't wanted to do a lot of shopping these days (partially because we don't really have the money to spend, but also because it's so awful to try a bunch of items on and have nothing fit right), but I went ahead with the plan. I was determined to find at least one pair of jeans that would fit and a couple of sweaters. I don't need a closet full of clothes right now, but I don't always want to feel frumpy either. Wonder of all wonders, I actually found jeans that worked. They're a bit snug, but I figure it's a better way to go right now than to buy them at a good fitting point and then they're too big in a couple of months (or at least, that is the hope). The jeans I purchased were 5 sizes smaller than the ones I'd been wearing. Holy cow.

One of the pairs of jeans I tried out... the legs seem to be snug no matter what size I try.

It was exciting to be able to buy something many sizes smaller, but it was also a reminder that I don't want to ever go back to where I've been...and, that I have a very long way to go. I took some time yesterday to clean out the closet (again). Since I don't want to go back to where I've been, there's no reason to hang on to old clothes. Sure, I kept a couple of items just to remind myself of what I have done to my body in the past, but I've vowed that I will continue to work towards becoming a better me. I can't promise the "bag lady" outfits won't be seen/worn over the next few months, but at least I know they don't fit like a glove as they once did, and if things are fitting tightly, it's just more incentive to try to get the weight off so they will feel loose again. But, even as I type that, the demons pop into my head reminding me that this may be it - that this may be all the weight I can lose - or that I will in fact return to my former state rather than losing more. These are the days when I wonder if those demons will ever let me be, or if I'm destined to spend a lifetime doubting myself and what I am capable of doing.

"Fatty, fatty, two by four,

Can't get through the kitchen door,

When the door begins to shake,

Fatty got a belly ache!"

How Fast is Too Fast?

I find myself having these days during which I really don't want to hear or read about other peoples success stories with weight loss. I've started to think that there's something wrong with me, but I find that often times these stories just make me angry. I don't begrudge anyone weight loss by any stretch of the imagination, but I find the ways in which they go about losing are often not in their best interest. Mind you, this comes from a fat person, so it's not as though I have any room to judge, but it just seems as though when someone drops 115 pounds in 6 months (just read this one in the last week), something incredibly drastic was done. As in, the individual has cut their diet so dramatically that it isn't maintainable for life, and I fear for them. Perhaps it's because I've been that person (well, I've never lost that much weight, but I've been in a similar mindset of "just eat less"), and it scares me when I read these stories. I look at people like those on The Biggest Loser, and see that so many of them regain the weight they've lost, and I can't help but believe it's because it happened entirely too fast.

Do our minds have time to adjust when we drop a person off of our bodies in a matter of months? I have to think it takes time for our minds to catch up to our bodies, and when we take these extreme measures to lose, I don't personally know if my mind would have the opportunity to understand what had happened.  I've been on this present mission for about 7 1/2 months, and I'm down just over 60 pounds (at least for today). It's not super fast, but it's also not that slow. Even at this speed I find that my mind struggles with changes. In my day to day life, I don't notice the loss at all. Sure, every once in awhile I think, "Hey, that fat roll seems smaller!" or I get excited about some garment of clothing that used to be tight but is now nearly falling off, but honestly it's difficult to understand that anything has changed. I see photos of myself and think that I look the same. I can see small changes in my face (as I've pointed out recently), but really I don't think my brain has even come close to comprehending what is taking place.

I don't have to see my fat face in this one, but it's almost worse from the back side...and this isn't even the worst of the pics this particular day.

Perhaps there aren't changes other than a little fat loss in the face? Maybe it's just that I'm around very average-to-thin sized people on a regular basis and I know that I will likely never even be of "average" size, sad as that is to say, so I will always feel like the fat person in the room? I wish I could wrap my head around it and finally understand once and for all why nothing seems to change.

In all of this though, I realize that so many people are so focused on losing weight that they neglect working on muscle as they lose. Sure, I may not see pounds drop quickly, but I'm also working on building muscle at the same time. Those arms? Yeah, they may still look fat, but I assure you, if you gave them a squeeze, there is solid muscle forming. The thighs? Sure, they still have lots of fat to lose, but they've gained a lot of muscle mass too while training. Abs? Yep, there's still a bunch of fat there, but I can feel the muscle wall through that fat. There is no way that I could've lost 100 pounds in half a year and gained muscle at the same time. So, while I have my moments of anger or jealousy when reading stories about the quick weight loss of others, overall I feel a little sadness for those who are in such a hurry to see the pounds go because I can't help but think that they're going to see those lbs return over the long haul. While I want to see the pounds go too, I'm okay knowing that I'm gaining muscle, and some day I will say goodbye to the excess weight as well.

Trapped

It's been an interesting week or so here in our household. We've had family visiting from out of town, we have both fallen ill to this nasty local flu that seems to be spreading like wildfire, and I'm in the middle of a project that involves a slew of people coming by the house at random times of the day. Needless to say, I've found myself pretty well locked to the house, and it hasn't been the greatest. I always think that I'm a homebody and that just staying here throughout the day wouldn't be so horrible, but it turns out, I leave quite a bit more often than I imagined. For example, I often run to the post office to drop off packages or mail, I run to the art supply store to grab a color I'm missing in my paint tubes, or perhaps even a quick trip to a home improvement store to pick up some item for a household project. Most of the time, I get to perform these chores by bike, and I love it.

My bike time is "clearing my head" time and I have found myself a bit crankier than normal about everyday occurrences in life. I often wonder during these times if my bad behavior is justified or if I'm just overly sensitive to things because I don't have as much time to be outside. With winter closing in on us, I know my bike time is going to decrease yet again. While I don't mind riding in the cold, I've yet to get over my fear of ice on the roads while riding, so I'm certain that as soon as the snow hits, I'll be back to experiencing theses sorts of feelings.

Image found here

All of this has caused me to consider the days not so long ago when I would perhaps avoid riding my bike when possible. It's not that I didn't want to ride my bike, but there were days when I know I would make the excuse to drive simply because I didn't feel like taking the bike out. While I think it's perfectly acceptable to take the car when needed, my preference is always to bike when possible because I get to experience things such as the changing seasons, the daylight coming and going, and even the cranky drivers are less irritating (and often less irritable in the winter months - though not always) when on a bicycle. I find myself thinking that perhaps these flimsy excuses I've used only added to my weight gain over the last several years.

I hope that I am making changes in all areas of my life with this journey, and while they may not always be positive, I hope that I never feel trapped in my life. I know people who have made considerable life changes during or after losing a good chunk of weight, and I hope that I can keep my sensibilities and know the difference between positive and negative energy in my life.

Trying to Find My Way

The last week (or so) has been mentally rough on me (as is evidenced by my incredibly ranting posts). I've been doubting everything and trying to figure out why I can't just exist in a day without drama. I'm slowly working through all of it, thankfully, but it's been an excellent reminder that losing weight isn't really about losing weight. Of course, it is about losing weight in that the whole reason for setting about this journey is to see the scale dropping, but the reality is that there is so much more to uncover about myself that has nothing to do with the weight.

I was speaking with a friend the other day and she made a comment that brought some things to light. I realized that I do focus entirely too much (despite what I want to believe) on the weight loss itself and not on what I should be focused on... figuring out why the weight came on in the first place. Mind you, I've never been a small person, even as a child, and I realize that I will not ever be; however, there must be some kind of reason that as an adult I would allow myself to get to this point.

*Image here
My dream was far less human-dominant, and much more bear-winning-the-fight

No answers have made themselves apparent to me as of yet, but I know that it's far more important to be aware of the "why am I doing this," than the "why isn't the weight coming off faster" question. I am definitely fighting something, or there is a moment of clarity about to happen because I've found myself in several emotional moments over the last few days during which I cannot stop crying. That has been followed for the last two evenings by the craziest dreams... last night, included fighting (by hand) with a giant bear. Gotta love dreams and there very easy to interpret meanings.

In the meantime, I am attempting to keep some perspective on life and this journey.  I have too many other things to focus on to get so absorbed in what is or isn't happening with my body.

**Edited to add: I looked up "dreaming about fighting with a bear" just to see what would come up, and this is what I found: "Dreaming about bears is fairly uncommon. To see a bear in your dream symbolizes independence, the cycle of life, death and renewal. You are undergoing a period of introspection and thinking. To dream that you are being pursued or attacked by a bear, denotes aggression, overwhelming obstacles, and competition." - Source here

Three Pound Gain - WTF?

This morning, I awoke to a 2 pound gain, which was preceded yesterday by a 1 pound gain. I really don't know what's going on, but it definitely displeases me. It's also highly demotivating to spend the week working hard, doing what I should be doing and then see the scale go up. It seems that every time this happens and I mention it to someone the response is, "Oh, well you're just gaining muscle." Um, no. I'm not gaining muscle - especially not over the course of two days. I understand that in the beginning of a new activity there are often no losses or even small gains due to muscles retaining water and trying to rebuild, but it's ludicrous at this point to see that much gain - virtually over night.

*Image found here

I want to be the strong person and continue to tell myself that this is just how it goes and that it's all just part of the process. I want to be able to give myself the same canned responses that I hear from everyone else like, "Oh, it will come off. It's just temporary water weight." But, the reality is that I just want to sit here and cry. It took weeks to get off those three pounds, and then they can somehow come on in two days. I can feel the weight on my body. I feel fatter and slower, and while I understand that it's likely not possible to actually notice those three pounds being added on, somehow my brain believes that it is capable of sensing that difference. These are the days when I wish for the "magic formula" so that I would know what to do. These are also the days that lead me to want to give up (or at least have in the past). I feel deflated, discouraged, and unsure of the decisions I'm making.

My goal through this has been to eat well, but not tell myself that I cannot have something if I want it. In doing so, I understood that the losses would be slower, but hopefully more permanent. I record food daily, no matter what I eat, and I can say that I definitely haven't been over my usual calorie range. Last night, I was pondering the idea of simply going back to eating less - a lot less - so that the weight will come off faster. There is a part of me that wants to do it that way because my personal history has shown me that it will work... at least temporarily. But, the reality is that I know I cannot sustain it, and therefore it isn't really a tool that I should utilize at this juncture.

So, for now I have resigned myself to just feeling this three pound gain and trying to remind myself that three pounds is a lot easier to lose than fifty. I have to stay the course, regardless of my current desire to skip kickboxing and go back to bed. Hopefully, the kickboxing will at least make me feel better rather than worse.

What Does an Athlete Look Like?

Tomorrow will be the fourth month in a row that I'm testing in kickboxing. There are those who think that I shouldn't be testing this quickly (myself included, at times) between belts, but I have to admit that the challenge of doing so definitely keeps me motivated, and striving to become a better me. At some point, this will no longer be possible as I will need too many classes to test each month, but in the meantime, I find myself debating whether or not it's a worthwhile cause to continue to do the tests each month for as long as I can. As I have mentally debated this over the past several weeks, I've often thought that there is no real reason for me to be pushing myself like this. What is it that's spurring me to action, exactly?

As I've been pondering this very idea, Sam brought to my attention something that I found odd, but intriguing. We were discussing the hang up that I have about the "6 month time frame" with losing weight and working out. I'm always fearful during the 6-8 month marker because in the past (as I've mentioned before) it is the point at which I generally give up and go back to my old ways. We were discussing how things feel different this time because it's not a "diet" that I am doing, and there's nothing to "go off of." I've viewed this as a change in life that's maintainable - which was the whole purpose. Still, I have my doubts because when one is crossing into unknown territory, it can be frightening - even if I'm aware of what can and has happened in the past. As we were having this discussion, Sam uttered something in the middle of a thought that stuck with me. He said, "Well, you're an athlete now." I laugh just typing it, and I laughed aloud when he said it while we were chatting.

I'm not an athlete. I've never been an athlete. I'm uncoordinated, unskilled, clumsy, awkward (at times), have always been picked last for every sport I've ever played - not to mention being overweight and the limitations that brings. But, the thought stuck with me, and I pondered it a bit more. An athlete? Me? I suppose it's possible. I train several hours a day, I'm often healing some sort of "war wound" from training, I'm aware of when, what, and how often I'm eating, and I have goals for myself. I'm becoming better at the things I'm doing, and finding ways to challenge myself. Is it possible? Am I turning into an athlete? I honestly don't even know what to do with that thought. I'm not the athlete... I'm the fat girl, who's not good at sports. The latter title seems much easier to accept than the former, and I'm trying to determine why.

The eternal optimist when it comes to others, I find the stark opposite to be the truth when it comes to myself. I am happy to cheer on others, and know full well that they are capable of anything they put their mind to doing, but I can't seem to believe the same for myself.  It's not as though this is restricted to the current situation either because it runs across all areas of life. I doubt everything I do and expect that what I'm doing is never good enough to call myself "fill_in_the_blank." I'm not an athlete, I'm not an artist, I'm not strong, I'm not a cyclist.  It's as though I have some kind of never-achievable idea of what it is I should be in order to call myself by whatever title. But, the reality is that I am all of these things, and the only one who doesn't yet believe it ... is me.

Some day though... one day, I will know that I am an athlete and I'll have the confidence to proclaim it out loud.

Tough Days Come and Go

I'm having a bit of a rough day (mentally) today.  While all of the working out and changing of life seems to be moving forward in a positive direction, I just seem to be having one of those days (several days, actually) during which I am clinging to nuances of unimportant matters. I keep reliving moments, things I've said/not said/should've said/should not have said/etc, and it's making me a bit batty. I'm not sleeping well, and I think it's affecting my general well-being.

*Image from Pinterest

I'm particularly concerned about my mental state because this is typically the point in my losing weight/getting fit journey when I tend to get lazy, or assume that I know what I'm doing and stop logging things or ease up on working out. I don't want that to be the pattern for my life, and I'm trying to very purposefully keep myself motivated and aware of what and how I'm reacting to things. I don't know it all, I obviously have not yet fixed what is broken (and may never fix it, frankly), and I need to keep in a positive frame of mind. Through it all, I realize that there will be good and bad days, and this is all just part of life and this journey. Hopefully, I will pull out of this funk soon and get back in a better state of mind.

New Goals

Today, I am one definitely exhausted human. I finished the 51 mile ride for Venus de Miles on Sunday, and all went well. If you'd like to read more about it, please see my post here. It was actually a good ride, and I was very glad that I went ahead and did it... and now, on to the next challenge. The next challenge already has me tired and worn out, and I'm only two days into it.

Last night in kickboxing, the instructor made some kind of reference to the idea that at least he wouldn't have me testing again in September for a new belt. After having tested three months consecutively, he presumed, I'm sure, that it would take me at least two months for the next one. Wrong. After he made his comment, I told him that it was on and just for that, I was going to prove that I could do it again this month. The problem, however, is that there are a few things standing in my way.
1) I only have four weeks to complete 32 classes. Classes are offered twice a day, 4 days a week, and once a day two days a week (being closed on Sunday's). However, I cannot attend one of those days due to scheduling conflicts.
2) I don't do mornings... at least not early mornings, and two days a week, there is an early morning class at 6:15a. As I said, I don't do mornings. This could be a problem.
3) The studio is going to be closed for three classes this upcoming weekend, putting me even further behind.
So, basically, I have to attend every class I'm able to in order to make it in time for testing. After my first early morning class today, I'm not sure I have the wherewithal to make it to the end of these four weeks. Ugh. What have I gotten myself into?

If I can get used to the slightly earlier rising time, I think I'll be okay, but as of this moment in time, I am so tired I'm not sure I can function for the remainder of the day. I had better get it together if this is my grand plan, certainly. Here's to doing things that push our limits! Hopefully, I make it through.

Two Weeks Until Venus de Miles

Exactly two weeks from today, I will be well on my way in the Venus de Miles ride. Today, however, I am taking my first day of complete rest since July 8 (that's 34 days, if anyone's keeping track), and I have to say, it feels great to do nothing. I think I almost forgot what it is like to know that nothing needs to be accomplished today (well, at least as far as working out is concerned). I am taking this day to plan out the next two weeks of training and exercise though, because I don't want to wear myself out right before the ride, nor do I want to be lacking in energy. Still, I got a late start in training, so I need to find time to get in some long rides, and I still plan on doing kickboxing belt testing this month as well. Unfortunately, that testing falls the day right before the ride, so I'll need to figure out how that factors in to training for the next couple of weeks.

Find the fatty in the photo... Riding the Venus de Miles in 2010

For some reason, I have a lot of anxiety before this ride. There are so many things that run through my head. My biggest concern is always my hands. I know they are always the first thing to give out simply because of injuries to them, and I know that I will have to stop frequently if I intend to make it the 51 miles. I've never rode 51 miles in a single ride, and it's scary to think that I may not make it to the end. My second concern is in regard to climbing in the mountains. I don't climb (certainly not well anyway), although I have pretty much put my mind at ease about this by reassuring myself that I can either walk if necessary, or simply pedal very slowly. It's not the end of the world though if I have to get off and walk.

Find the fatty #2... Riding Venus de Miles 2011

Another worry is one that is complete vanity. Every year I end up being in some kind(s) of photo(s) (either one that Sam takes, or that one of the course photographers snaps, or a combo thereof), and I hate it (I'm not even sure why I'm putting them up here, other than I hope to be able to look back at them one day and know that I'm no longer that person). I know I'm fat - well aware of this fact - but I think seeing photos of me on my bike (something that I love) and realizing just how horrible I look riding, makes me miserable. Every year when I see the photos I swear to myself that I'm never getting back on a bicycle (of course, this lasts about a day, and then wears off as I love my bikes far too much). Admittedly, I spend a good chunk of an hour (at least) crying about how bad I look after seeing the pictures... No one should look like they are going to crush the bike they're riding.

Oh yes, they get worse... this one is about 15 miles into the ride (I was already tired)
*Image from Sullivan Studios

I always know that I'm the biggest rider out there, and I guess in some ways, I've just come to accept that it is what it is. However, I've also come to the realization that it doesn't matter what I look like. I'm not doing the ride for a photo, and I shouldn't be depressed about seeing these images of myself riding. I know that I'm doing everything in my power to improve my physical well-being, and while it may not show in photographs just yet, I should be proud of all that I'm doing to improve me. So, to my future self, in two weeks time, when you're finding the photos that have been taken of you, remember that you work hard - every damn day - and you are worth continuing to fight for, regardless of how you feel about seeing yourself in pictures. Ride strong sister! I can't wait to see that you actually finished the ride.

Physical Break Down

I have had many days over the last several months during which I was simply exhausted. When one goes from doing nearly nothing to the polar opposite of the spectrum, sometimes ones' body decides to rebel. On the days this has occurred in the past, I've been able to refuel and force myself into continuing on. Today, my body's rebellion won out over my stubborn will. I woke up at about 6:15a to start preparing myself for kickboxing and the subsequent long bike ride. I went through the normal morning rituals and I could tell that my body wasn't happy. I was limping, my back was sore, and above all I was simply exhausted.  "Just push through it," I told myself, as I do each time I wake up with these feelings of stiffness, soreness, and exhaustion. Normally, it does the trick.

*Image found here

It worked well enough to get me to class. I pulled my bicycle up to the door just as they were getting started. But, as I got into the workout, I just couldn't seem to make myself move. I could tell I was half way completing each task, and the harder I tried to push myself, the more difficult it became to do anything. Honestly, I felt dead, and it was quite bothersome. I know everyone needs a day off, and that rest and recovery are extremely important, but I'm normally able to push through the week until a day off over the weekend. About 15 minutes into the 50 minute class, the instructor told us all to grab a quick drink and we'd get back to it. I did not get a drink, but instead sat on the edge of my bag. I put my head in my hands and asked myself silently what in the world I was doing in class.

The instructor took notice of my behavior and came over to check on me. "Are you okay?" she asked. All I could do was say, "No, I'm really not," as I started to cry. I stood up and continued, "I'll be fine. I'm just extremely worn out." She nodded a bit and said, "I can tell... you're just not yourself today." She was able to modify a few things for me so that I could make it through the rest of the workout, but I knew that there was no way I was going to make it through a long bike ride after my inability to make it through a 50 minute class. We chatted briefly about getting in proper amounts of carbs and proteins, and I returned home to attempt to refuel myself.

When I got back, I was looking through my journal of activity and came to the realization that despite the fact that I say I'm going to allow myself a day off to rest, I apparently haven't been taking it. The last complete day off from working out I have had was on July 8! That's insane. No wonder my body was uncooperative. This is always one of my biggest fears for myself... I am either on or off, and the in between place just doesn't seem to exist for me. The problem is that it turns in to burn out and then I completely give up because I'm simply exhausted. I definitely don't want that to happen. So, I have to figure out how I'm going to get everything in, not exhaust myself completely, and still find balance. I'm not sure that's possible, so perhaps something is going to have to give.  I know the upcoming ride in a couple of weeks is adding to the pressure of working out, but if I'm so tired I can't do anything, it won't be of benefit anyway.

In the mean time, I am resting for the remainder of today... and who knows? Tomorrow may end up being that day off I've obviously been in need of for quite some time.

Test Time {Yes, Again}

Tomorrow, I test again for my next level belt in kickboxing. If it seems incredibly fast it is because, well, it was fast.  I have been on a mission to get enough classes in time to test in July. It probably seems more than a little odd that the person who just a month ago was stating that I wasn't going to test and was almost arguing with the instructor about taking the test, is now fighting to get to the next level... but that's the sort of wacky person I am, I suppose. Over the last 19 days (of which, the studio was closed for 4 of those), I have attended 22 classes (so, really in 15 days). I share this not to brag or because I think I'm super awesome (okay, maybe I think I'm a little bit awesome), but because I kind of need to see it in black and white for myself because I'm having a difficult time understanding how I've managed to get this done, let alone function as a human on a daily basis.

I have enjoyed the mission of getting to the next level in a short period of time, and honestly, I intend to keep at it to see how many classes I can complete in four weeks time. I am definitely motivated by short-term, easy-to-see, but not-so-easy-to-do kinds of challenges, so perhaps this is a good way to keep me moving forward... or, perhaps I will kill myself trying to keep up a pace that is probably a bit much over the long term. Either way, we shall see what happens, but in the mean time, I'm just trying to take it all day by day and enjoy the small rewards.

Running {Errr... Jogging}

For someone who ran a marathon not too many years ago, I have been struggling immensely with running/jogging these days. Mind you, for the last couple of years, I haven't run very often, and over the last 6-9 months I would say that my jogging has been extremely minimal - really, non-existent. When I was training for the marathon, I was on a mission. I was determined to run, and to finish a pretty big goal, but after it was over, the running/jogging slowly went out of the routine. Part of it was people (doctors and other experts) scaring me out of it. The reminders of how large I am and how I could be creating unnecessary strain or even injuries to my legs/knees wasn't helping matters. I had pretty much decided that walking, elliptical machines and bicycles would take over for the cardio portion of working out. The problem came in to play when I realized that I had nothing to be working towards. No one does elliptical races or elliptical distance trials (or maybe they do, but I've just not heard of them).

When I picked up kickboxing in March of this year, I allowed that to become my main source of exercise (except for biking). The problem with that is that while there is definitely a lot of sweat and heart pounding action taking place, I don't ever really get to work on sustained aerobic activity. Exercises are done in fairly short segments and are done more for intensity than anything else. It's not surprising then that when boot camps started a couple of weeks ago and I was expected to run, I really couldn't do it.

"Man am I out of shape!" I keep uttering to myself as I attempt (and subsequently fail) to keep up with the others. "How is this possible?" I know very well how it's possible as has been outlined above, but I suppose I figured that somehow my ability to sustain some kind of kickboxing work out would spread to running... Yeah, I'm not horribly bright. It doesn't help that every few feet we have to stop running and do lunges, jumping jacks, or some other exercise, which only slows me down more. I have considered the fact that maybe I'm trying to fight a battle I just can't win. I wasn't a fast runner even when training, so perhaps I'm expecting too much?

There are plenty of running plans out there I could be doing, but I suppose most of it has to do with time. What am I willing to give up in order to be able to run again, or do I even care that I can't run? I suppose that is the biggest question. Part of me thinks that perhaps I will find motivation to run again when I drop a bit more weight, while the other part of me thinks that it could help me if I'd get back into it and I just spent more time now running. The biggest obstacle for me is that I never really enjoyed running - it was just a challenge for me to try to complete a marathon, and if I'm not enjoying it, that means I won't really stick with it for the long term... and isn't it more important that I find something I can sustain, rather than feeling like a failure for not currently running?

Grateful

It's not easy to lose weight. Many have said it and experienced it, but never in my life have I believed it more than now. While I'm not suffering (well, at times I am in pain - but it's good pain), I know that I work very hard every day in an attempt to transform myself. On occasion, I find myself whining more than I would prefer about said topic, and while I cannot promise that it will come to a halt completely, I wanted to take a moment simply to be thankful for what I do have and the things that I am seeing transform.

*Image found here

The other day, Sam and I were talking about some individuals who have lost limbs and are competing in olympic events. One man has lost both his left arm and leg, and yet he races on a bicycle. It's quite incredible, and when I see this I can't help but think that I have absolutely no reason not to achieve what I set out to do, nor to complain about a bit of pain after working out. I am seeing progress in the things I am able to do, even if I don't have a shrinking waist line. I am getting stronger - which is my number one goal.

Today, I am taking a moment to be grateful... grateful that I can work out to the point of exhaustion, grateful that I am strong, grateful that I have a supportive partner in life, and grateful simply for every moment of life.

A Change in Routine

The kickboxing class I attend is currently in the middle of a schedule shake up due to sharing of studio space with a karate/tae kwon do class. For the next month, we are taking to the local parks two days a week for a boot camp class instead of attempting to share the studio with the other classes. I was actually excited to be able to get out of the indoor environment and see the kinds of things that anyone can do without equipment.  Here is what I've learned thus far:

The Good
It is awesome to have the opportunity to be outside. Although I'm already aware of this from riding my bike, it's been fun to experience the parks in a different way. The classes are happening early enough to keep the days' heat from killing us all, and I honestly feel as though I'm working my muscles harder (mostly because the ground is uneven, and I'm not a horribly coordinated individual) than if I were in the studio (despite the fact that I do miss the bags on these days). I've learned that there really is no excuse not to do something, even when away from home, but I also know that having someone there to push me is a great motivator.

The Bad
For me, I always feel like the weak link in the bunch. In my mind, I think there's no reason I can't keep up with everyone else, but then reality sets in and I realize how much the extra lbs slow me down. While I know that I'm doing all I can and pushing myself, it's incredibly frustrating to know that I am always last and there isn't anything I can do about it. I feel bad for the individual who ends up getting stuck with me as a partner because I know that I am dragging them down when we're doing paired up activities.

The Ugly
I leave looking like quite a mess. Because the classes are taking place just after (or during) the grass sprinklers routine watering, it is a muddy mess, and because much of the work involves getting on the ground, I leave looking as though I was just involved in a mud wrestling bout. I'm also allergic to grass, so I end up wheezing most of the time and scratching like some kind of diseased individual. It isn't pretty.

Overall, I am enjoying the short term change. Doing things like lunges across a field and dangling our feet on swings while we do push-ups is an interesting switch up, and even if I'm not the most capable in the class, I have to remind myself that I'm doing my best and some day I'll be able to (hopefully) keep up with the rest of the group.

Sensitivity to "Fat" Comments

A topic that comes up somewhat regularly in our household is that of the public's perception of overweight or obese individuals. On rare occasions, I find myself in tears because of something someone has said in an online forum or in some kind of magazine. I am well aware of the fact that having fat on my body is completely unacceptable to the majority of the population. The problem for me comes in when I realize that I am being judged on a continual basis. Those guys I just passed in the pick up truck while riding my bike - yeah, they were judging me. The "serious cyclist"{picture kit-clad, 14lbs carbon bike riding individual} giving me a look while I ride my steel road bike at human speeds, rather than super speeds. The teenage girls, the mother of four - you name it - they are all judging me.

I don't live my life as though I'm being constantly judged, but every now and again, a reminder is brought to my attention that "they" are in fact watching, observing, and letting me know that "they" are the "superiors" of this planet.

I can nearly guarantee that I work out harder than nearly any of them, and have for quite awhile. My annoyance comes out when someone insists on making statements such as "fat and lazy" or "obese because they do nothing," and I can feel my temper begin to flare as I take these comments personally. How can I not? Basically, these folks are telling me that I eat poorly and don't move, and thus the fat on my body. But that is not reality for me. I cannot begin to count the number of times I have cried because I am doing everything I physically can to change my body and nothing seems to work.

Unfortunately, these times generally coincide with me finding a random comment on a blog or some online forum that just infuriates me. No one should be lumped together. We are all individuals and we come with different quirks and issues, in different shapes and sizes, and have different abilities and goals. I do my best to take solace in the fact that I know I'm doing everything I can to be the best me - and isn't that really all anyone can do?

Sam {partner in life/crime}tries to tell me that he doesn't know anyone who thinks I'm "fat and lazy," and states that anyone who knows me is well aware that I am a strong woman. I'd like to believe that because I do think I am strong, and getting stronger every day. As for changing the attitudes of other people, I'm not sure that is ever possible. The only thing I can do is try to alter the way I take in information, and know that I am doing everything in my power to better myself. You know the saying, "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me?" Well, that isn't the case for me... sticks and stones aren't going to break my bones because I am strong... and their words - well, I'm doing my best to not let them hurt me either.