Frustration, Irritation

Hello, all. My honesty is ugly today. It's sad, it's frustrating, it's negative. I'm throwing a pity party. A journey, though, isn't a successful one without struggles, so I wouldn't be true to my journey if I didn't record the dark times. I'm not a poet or a creative writer, so I feel the need for a disclosure: whatever materializes below is no attempt to make myself seem to be something I'm not.

I tracked.
I ran. cycled. yoga-ed.
I tracked.
broccoli, shrimp, peanut butter.
Oops. a 3 musketeers bar.
I wasn't prepared for hunger.
I hadn't had a banana in days.
Pay day is today.

There was pizza on Sunday.
Today, 1.4 pounds
added to the number on the scale.
I tracked.
I ran. cycled. yoga-ed.
There it was:
pizza, candy bar--
the scale.

I know numbers don't
necessarily mean success.
I know they don't necessarily mean
failure.

I feel failure.
Disappointment.
Frustration.

Wait--I can now run
12 miles.
I'm going for
13.1
I'm down 4 sizes
2.4 pounds away from
a 60-pound loss.

But, last week I was
1 pound away from 60.
I feel failure.
Disappointment.
Frustration.

I can't celebrate.
Not today.

Today, I'll
track.
Run.
Yoga.

"Don't Stop Believing" in Magic (Pardon my nerdiness)

I've noticed the last few weeks that I've been using the word "magic" to describe the events of my life: there's magic happening in the classes I'm teaching, yoga is magic, the points system for WW seems to be magic--it seems to be my word of choice lately. So, like the nerdy English major that I am, I turned to the Oxford English Dictionary for the definition of magic. Look what I found:

Magic, adj, 2a: "Producing surprising or remarkable results, like those attributed to magic (freq. in magic touch); effecting or permitting change, success, etc., as if by magic. Also: enchanting, delightful."

Effecting or permitting change as if by magic.

Now, I know there is science behind WW, and I understand how and why it works. Likewise, I know what's happening in my classroom is a combination of how I created the courses and my students' willingness to learn. So, why am I stuck on the word? Maybe, because I am in control of my life, but all of these other elements have to work together for life to be enjoyable: I can't make my students like class, and I can't make my body perform do whatever it does to lose weight. Sure, I can pick cool readings and assignments for my students, and of course I exercise regularly and eat healthy. But when it comes down to it, I have to have faith in the process. My effort, faith in the process, and getting the desired results = magic to me.

So, this is where the "Don't Stop Believing" half of my title comes in. I've become absolutely obsessed with Glee. The last episode of season one features a medley of Journey songs. No joke: for the last 3 weeks, I've been singing "Don't Stop Believing" every day, all day. It's stuck in my head.

Two days ago, after I just finished telling a friend that magic was happening in my class, I listened to the Glee version of "Don't Stop Believing." I was on the treadmill, completing my last mile of a tempo run when the song came on, and I started sprinting. I envisioned crossing the finish line of my first half marathon with my sister, and I got chills.

See? Magic. Changes are happening in my life that create balance, peace, happiness, and just enough struggle.

The Journey song is, after all, about living life--not just watching it happen to other people: Living just to find emotion.

What is a day without feeling any emotion: happiness, frustration, anger, accomplishment . . . any emotion at all? I've become much more attuned to my emotions since I've been physically active and eating healthy; I can identify what I'm feeling and why--that's pretty powerful.

"Katie, why are you going for your 3rd 3 Musketeers?"
"Because . . . I've watched 3 episodes of The X-Files while grading quizzes."
"Katie, turn of the TV, get off the couch, and go for a walk."

Conversations like that prior to my weight loss journey were nonexistent. Do I always listen to that voice? Of course not. But it's there, and I acknowledge it.

I'll finish with one last thought. I've been asked why I want to run so far, why I want to lose weight, why I've quit drinking. Thanks to "Don't Stop Believing," I can now articulate the answer:

Working hard to get my fill,
Everybody wants a thrill
Payin' anything to roll the dice,
Just one more time.

I don't want to ever get to the point in my life where I'd pay anything to go back. I want to start living now, every day, with no chance of regret in the future. If that means giving up a beer on Friday nights because I have to run in the morning, so be it. Because you know what? To me, nothing feels better than the magic that happens when I'm physically, emotionally, and mentally balanced.

Mere Ounces Equal a Wipe Out

 

So, here it is; the venting blog post.

I'm frustrated and need an outlet because I worked my butt of this week, but obviously not literally. Weight Watchers members earn points for all the activity they do throughout the week; I earned 80 activity points for the entire week (a good amount), and I still had 70 left at the close of my week (meaning I ate a little more than my daily allowance). I ate more carrots and broccoli than I have in the past few months, I've cut down on cheese, and I've been drinking a gallon of water a day. I've added new physical activities (hello, yoga). I've even been getting more sleep.

I've made positive changes, people.

And I gained .6 lbs this week. A. GAIN.

Since summer started, I haven't had consistent weight loss. According to WW, successful weight loss means an average loss over a certain amount of time, not a loss every week. But still, really? I feel like every other week is a loss, then a gain. I know, it's not even a full pound, but I made an effort this week!

Could my gain be attributed the 1/4 cup of frozen yogurt I had (twice) this week? It's only 1 point. Could it be my peanut butter intake? I'm so confused--if I had to confess any missteps, those would be them.

My fear is that my body is done losing weight, which could cause a huge problem because I HAVE NOT ARRIVED AT MY DESTINATION. I'm not yelling at you, readers, but my body. I can't be done yet. I have so much left to accomplish.

After weighing myself this morning, I didn't cry (one way I've already changed). Admittedly, I cussed and then hopped in the shower. I realized I felt ready to fight, instead of breaking into the frozen yogurt at 8:00 in the morning (another way I've changed). I wanted to fight myself, to fight my fat cells, to push my physical limits. Even though I've added activity, maybe something's just not working anymore.

Here's my game plan for the week:

- Run, cycle, yoga. I despise yoga, but I gave it a chance last week. The instructor wasn't annoying, and I felt stretched and relaxed afterward. I'll give it another chance.

- Cut down on my peanut butter consumption. Oh, how I love peanut butter. And, I have it in my head that because I don't eat meat or chicken, I need peanut butter for protein. I never go over a serving a day (I split up the serving throughout my meals), but maybe that's too much. I'll cut back this week, but peanut butter and I will never part.

- The frozen yogurt needs to go. Hopefully, the craving will go away as the cool weather settles in. I wish I could be one of those people who just doesn't need something sweet, but I'm not. I thought, though, if I portioned and tracked, that half a serving wouldn't do me in. We'll see.

- I'll keep measuring and weighing my food.

There. That's my plan.

And, even with the (slight) weight gain, I'm triumphant. I mean, look at my reaction: I'm angry, and I've taken that anger, identified the source, made a plan to overcome it, and now I'm acting on it. The old me--the me before WW--would've taken a day, or two, off of tracking to feed my disappointment with pizza, chocolate, and ice cream. Then, I would've hated myself on some level. Instead, tonight you'll find me at the gym, cycling and hitting the yoga mat.
I suppose I can draw a parallel between losing weight and my surfing experience: both are physically and mentally tough; both involve extreme patience; both knock you down, literally and figuratively. Finding the balance to ride the wave and lose the weight is an incredible challenge, and as frustrating as the journey may be, it's totally worth the work, the wipe outs, and the small gains.

So, I'll keep paddling. 

Sleepy Saturdays

Ever since I was a kid, Saturday mornings meant sleeping in, Saved by the Bell, and maybe some yard work for my Dad. Saturdays, I still believe, are meant for relaxation and selfish purposes. I don't expect my beliefs to ever change. However, I'm trying to start a local running group in town, and the best day for everyone is Saturday. Because it's been so miserably hot and humid all summer, we've been trying to meet between 7:00 and 7:30 am. Ugh.

Who would seriously want to leave this adorable creature?

Throughout the week, I get up way before 7:00 to work out and take care of my domestic responsibilities before I go to work: watering the garden, feeding the chickens, walking my dog, and maybe--if I feel nurturing--preparing breakfast for my husband. But, on Saturdays? No way. I'm almost always a few minutes late meeting the group. There's something about sleeping in, even though my husband snores and takes up half of the bed and my chihuahua/pug magically manages to fill 1/4 of the half remaining space; there's not much room, but it goes against my nature (or conditioning?) to want to get out of bed and put my running clothes on.

                                                    

But I do. As I brush my teeth, I wonder if I can skip out on the group. Trust me, every Saturday I struggle with my commitment to running; even as I'm walking to our meeting place, I think to myself, "Maybe I won't do my scheduled run--maybe just half." Today, as with every Saturday, I completed my scheduled distance. I ran with a friend of mine who I don't see often enough, and thanks to our conversation during the 4-mile run (her first!), I got the idea for this post.

Listen: running's difficult, painful, exhausting, and time consuming. I've been running consistently for nearly nine months, and every mile is still hard to get through. So, why do I do it? Why do I keep getting out of my crowded bed on Saturday mornings and three other mornings throughout the week? Why, oh why is running more rewarding than sleeping in?

My WW Picture

• The Leg Muscles: I'm not one to brag on how I look. I've got a long way to go until I'm satisfied with my physical appearance. But, the other day I submitted a photo of myself to a Weight Watchers Challenge. I'm pretty sure it's my first self portrait, but the prize is $5,000, so I did it. When I looked at the picture, I realized I didn't recognize my legs. I mean, they are no longer shapeless; they look strong. They're not the legs I've grown up with, and I can thank running for that.
• Pretty soon, I'm going to have to stuff my bras. Enough said.
• I've lost 57.6 pounds.
• I do most of my runs outside, so I always have some sun on my face.
• On the days I run and workout, I eat healthier. I hate the idea of undoing hard work, so I tend to consume food for fuel instead of enjoyment when I run in the mornings. I've noticed on days that I don't work out before my days begin, I eat more, and the chances of eating junk food increases. Now, there are days that I know I'm going to eat more than usual, so I run in hopes of creating a balance; those days, however, happen only every now and then.
• Because I'm training for a half marathon (next month!), I realize now, more than ever, that nutrition is essential, which means I've been preparing meals at least three times a day. And, since I don't have a dishwasher, I feel like I'm washing dishes constantly. In fact, I only wash them just so I can make another mess. My husband has one word for me: poof! But hey, a mess in the kitchen means I'm becoming one mean, creative cook.
• There's a pretty awesome community between runners, and it's awesome if you can find it. Just last week, I talked with a woman who ran the Boston Marathon. She gave me some incredible advice, and we spoke candidly about the pains connected to running (think chafing, admitting numbers, and underwear). What amazed me was how supportive she was. I mean, I was sitting across from a human being who ran 26.2 miles! That's incredible and, right now, unimaginable to me. Regardless of her accomplishment, she was congratulating me for doing a measly 10 miles. A former professor-turned-friend has done quite a few marathons, and he too is full of encouragement and positivity. Which leads me to another point:
• Amazingly, I have yet to encounter any judgment amongst runners. I'm still about 30 pounds overweight, my pace is slow, and yet I have marathon runners believing in me. There's something about running that brings out the best in people, regardless of the worst. It's got to be the endorphins that are released, but I think it has something to do with the accomplishment. Running isn't simply about finishing the miles; it's about beginning those miles, and then finding the mental, emotional, and physical strength to keep going. What kind of person would judge someone who's made the decision to stay on his or her feet for an extended amount of time? A monster.
• Before last December, I had tried losing weight since third grade. I've done kickboxing, Tae Bo, the elliptical, cycling, P90X, walking--I've tried it all. But not until I got myself on a running plan did I start making changes, and slowly my changes turned into habits. Simply, running has given my life structure. And I love it. 

So, it's a little after 10:00 am. I ran 4 miles this morning, spent time with friends, have had breakfast, and I'm now completing this post. Thanks to my running regimen, I'm living fuller days, and I wouldn't trade them for anything--not even sleepy Saturday mornings.