By Any Means Necessary (and a review for Healthy Surprise)…

Today I ran 12 miles.

I decided that in order to get that far today I needed a goal that has been lingering in the back of my mind for some time. I wanted to run from my house out to my in-laws house. We go out every Sunday to do laundry, play cards and usually have dinner. I’m slowly working my way up in miles as the Maritime Marathon countdown ticks away over there to the right —–>

Training is a little different this time since I’ve gone back to boot camp three times a week (or at least I try to go three times a week) and cut back on running to three days (2 short-ish and 1 long-ish) run. Each week I’m adding a little bit to the long runs so that come marathon time I’ll be ready (or so I’m hoping).

Someone had made a comment to my usual “I’m done running so I’m gonna tweet my Daily Mile entry” that they can’t imagine running that long and how awesome it was that I had.

It got me thinking

(as most things do)

It wasn’t that long ago that the idea of running for three minutes straight scared the crap out of me. I mean seriously scared the crap out of me. So much so that when I finished I went home and wrote a post about it. Those days of being an obese runner are still fresh in my memory and in my emotional state of well being. Every time I go out (and I mean EVERY TIME) I think about what it was like back then. All the crying and the embarrassment. All the times I felt like my lungs were going to collapse and then all the times I quietly patted myself on the back for getting out there another day and working towards ~~another weight loss goal~~ taking control for real this time. When I run or do any sort of physical activity I rarely give up. I’m not saying that because I’m trying to toot my own horn, but rather to emphasize that by getting shit done by any means necessary I am continually giving thanks to the body that I ignored for so long. I am giving thanks to that 244 pound 3 minute run at 7am on the waterfront…

Thanks to the 5 minute run

Thanks to the 8 minute run

Thanks to the official ending of the Couch to 5k training

Thanks to the beginning of what I hope to be a long life of running races

We have to be continually thanking our old selves in order to push our new selves into situations we could never imagine conquering. When I first began losing weight (this time around) I had to really step back and instead of seeing the 100+ pounds I needed to lose force myself to only see a few pounds in front of me. I never imagined what it would be like to live in a body that weighed 160 pounds. I did however imagine what it could be like to be 250 pounds…

245 pounds…

240 pounds…

235 pounds…

In the beginning I never imagined what it would be like to run a marathon but I did imagine what it would be like to run for a mile non-stop.

2 miles…

3.1 miles…

6.2 miles…

13.1 miles…

26.2 miles…

(And beyond)

BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY!

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————-

You remember that I was on the road not too long ago right? You know that road trip I’m talking about don’t you? The one that took 10 days and a total of 3400 some odd miles that went from Tacoma WA all the way back home to Halifax Nova Scotia…right that’s the one I’m talking about.

All along the way, Meegan and I tweet(ed)/facebook(ed)/instagram(ed) about the lovely box of goodies we received from Healthy Surprise. We got super lucky on this because when they asked us to give it a try we were able to get them to send the box to Tacoma so that it would be waiting for us when we arrived and could take it with us on the road. One of the hardest things about trying to make better food choices is having options and to be honest with you being on the road for so long makes those choices a little harder to come by.

We were stoked to open the box up and find it chock full of healthier options:

The Bliss Bar Honey Gold

Home Freet Treats Vanilla Cookies

Hail Merry Vanilla Maple Almonds

Two Moms in the Raw Cranberry Nut Bar

Go Raw Pizza Flax Snax

Oskri Coconut Cherry Bar

Bare Fruit Granny Smith Apple Chips

( just to name a few)

We really appreciated having this box with us on the road. There were lots of times when the only option we had for food was ordering off of a menu in which the service person would have responded “Would you like that supersized” or grabbing something quick from a gas station and we all know that you won’t find very many healthier choices at your local Esso (that’s a Canadian Reference there).

The concept of Healthy Surprise is much like my much missed Lollihop. With a particular subscription level a box full of such goodies as listed above will arrive on your doorstep each month. All except the first option come with free shipping (but really $5 isn’t a bad shipping cost) inside the US and an additional $5 shipping if you are in Canada (not bad for shipping “internationally”). The box that we received was the “Healthy” size and it really was jam packed.

Not having a job makes it difficult to splurge on something as cool as Healthy Surprise each month so we were super appreciative of the opportunity to receive and review the box they sent. If you want to see what options you might want to get your hands on head on over to the website’s subscription page and give it a little peruse. Find something you’d like to try out; use the coupon code ALIFECHANGINGJOURNEY for a $5.00 discount (see that pretty much just paid for your shipping if you’re going for the smaller box or live in Canada!)

Happy (And Healthy) Snacking!

Windshield vs. Rear view mirror.

Confession:

I love Joel Osteen.

Not in that bible-thumping, get right with Jesus or burn in hell for all eternity kind of way but rather a damn he knows how to weave his words in such a way that you don’t have to go to church or be able to quote a particular verse in the bible in order to take away something from his t.v. show or podcast. When I run I like to have particular podcasts on my shuffle ready to go when music isn’t cutting it for me. It’s an eclectic collection: The Adam Corolla Show, Gay Pimpin with Johnny McGovern (for those really long runs), Latest in Paleo, Run Chat, and Savage Love (for when I miss Seattle)…

And then there’s Joel.

He’s my go-to guy when I’m out running for an hour or so. Each podcast lasting about 30 minutes he’s good for a nice 3 miles in one way and then another podcast for the 3 miles coming back. When I run and listen to something other than music I have to stay focused so that I can keep up with what’s being said. Music tends to come and go while I’m running, getting lost in the on going saga of “why do I run when I hate it so much but love it so much?” The other podcasts are good for a laugh or some quick tip on how to run better or maybe listening to some banter on the politics of paleo but with Joel I really have to listen. I have to get out of my running mind and my running body and open up to what I’m hearing. While his messages are biblical in nature I never have trouble applying them in my everyday (and very non-biblical) life.

As I ran early this morning he talked about letting go. Letting go of things you have no control over. Letting go of the past. Letting go of whatever keeps you from moving forward. When I was morbidly obese I wasn’t very good at letting go. In fact what I was very good at was wondering why my life was the way it was. Why was I the child of an alcoholic mother and non-existent father? Why did mental illness go undiagnosed in my family for so long? Why am I shoving food in my face to cover up depression? I was very good at thinking about the past and dwelling on it. I was very good staying stagnant because the pitty potty I was comfortably resting my ass on gave me a reason to just sit there and do nothing to take control of my life…

Over the course of not letting go I gained a lot of weight.

Over the course of wondering why me, I shoved a lot of food in my face.

Over the course of thinking I could never make the changes necessary to move forward I withdrew from my environment.

I closed the door on my life.

During the podcast today he said there’s a reason why the windshield of a car is so big and the rear view mirror is so small. What’s in front of you is much more important than what’s behind you. Now I’m sure he isn’t original in his thinking. I mean seriously the concept of what’s in front of you (windshield) is more important that what’s behind you (rear view) seems so simple someone else had to have said it first but it doesn’t take away how powerful that analogy is when on a journey to take the body that sat in the past and grew to morbid obesity into the future and letting go.

When I stopped thinking about the alcoholism in my childhood and what my mother didn’t do for me and started to understand that she did the best she could with the tools that were provided to her I began to move forward. When I stopped thinking about a father that had left me before my childhood even began and started to understand that I can’t miss what was never there I began to move forward. When I stopped blaming myself for choices made, addictions battled and wishing for another chance at what WAS and began to find the tools that I needed to never miss a chance at what IS I began to move forward.

Over the course of letting go I lost a lot of weight

(and gained a lot of life)

Over the course of wondering what’s next for me and how can I get there I lost a lot of weight

(and gained a lot of life)

Over the course of making small changes and moving ever so slowly forward engaging in my environment I lost a lot of weight

(and gained a lot of life)

Over the course of slowing turning away from my past I opened the door in front of me…

Letting go is not easy. I didn’t just wake up one morning in the midst of some particularly great dream and say “Tara, today is the day you let go of the past and look to the future”. It was (and is) a process of patience with myself and the experiences of what was before. Some days I can’t get past the “What if I had just done a,b, and c instead of x, m and for eff’s sake what was I thinking when I did q?” But instead of stuffing my face with food or sitting for multiple hours playing video games in hopes that the feelings will subside I try as hard as I can to just let the emotions work themselves out knowing from practice that they too will pass. Some days I get upset that I waited what could have very well been half of my life to stand up and take control and shed the 100+ pounds that labeled me as morbidly obese but then I look down and marvel in the body I have today and in the fact that I’ve kept the weight off for almost 2 years. Some days I beat myself up that I let my 20’s and 30’s go by without even trying to find the athlete in me but then I think about all the race numbers I’ve collected, the muscles that show when I’m lifting weights, the medals that hang on my wall and how I’ve done more in the last two years of my life athletically than most people will do in a lifetime.

Dwelling in the past of “what if”, “how could that happen to me”, and “I’ll never let go” doesn’t do anything but make the life that we currently live in painful both emotionally and physically. Emotions stew in us like something that’s burning on a hot stove top. We feel trapped and afraid to look forward and at the same time angry and bitter that there is nothing we can do about it.

Or can we?

For some of us the losing of 100 + pounds is just a physical act. Move more and the weight comes off. For many of us (and I’m most definitely in this group), I had to “let go” in order to let go of the excess weight. I had to stop relying on food to comfort what I feared the most and what I feared the most was what was in the rear view mirror. I had to stop looking for relief in a role playing game and play my own role in real life.

I had to look out the windshield because what’s in front of me is more important than what’s behind me.

I had to be present.

And you can’t do that stuck in the past.

Feed me Seymour…

Week one of going back to the basics is done.

I diligently logged all my food. I tracked all my work outs. I consciously decided whether to eat a snack based on a) hunger b) boredom c) had extra calories left over d) all of the above. It was a little harder than I anticipated but now that the week is over I am getting back into the swing of things…

One of the hardest transitions is the fact that I am hungry at times when I am not prepared to eat. We’d gotten into a nice routine of eating the usual meals with little to no snacking because of the content/amount of our food. Now it’s back to logging which is making me more conscious which in turn leads to measuring and smaller portions which of course leads to being hungry sooner than later.

A few times Meegan and I have taken long walks and not been prepared. Hunger striking mid-walk and nothing in my back pack to snack on because I’m used to eating just three times a day. We’re now retraining ourselves to have something to nosh on just in case we are feeling hungry to keep us from mindlessly buying something from a convenience store or coming home and stuffing our pie-holes with whatever is in reach of our hands.

The other hard part about going back to tracking is eating just because there are extra calories at the end of the day. When I run, I run for long periods of time (okay maybe not all the time but I’m working back up to marathon training). Some days that means I have upwards to 2500 – 3000 calories I should be eating in a day. I eat Paleo. That means the foods I eat are lean meats and a shit ton of veggies. Take a look at my MFP diary and you’ll be hard to find any sort of boxed or “prepared” meal. No grains. No breads. No dairy. These things are higher in calorie even when consumed in limited amounts and I choose not to eat them for a variety of reasons. At the end of the day when I have a few hundred left over calories I seriously need to be conscious about hitting the “complete this entry” button. Immediately my brain says “hmmmm, gelato or some dark chocolate would easily take care of those extra calories you need to eat”. Instead I am having to commit that when the logging is done, the logging is DONE.

Using the My Fitness Pal app has been pretty helpful in logging and keeping track of everything. I needed to wear my HRM for a few activities to make sure that the workout calories burned were being logged accurately (and if you’re using MFP please note that the accuracy of what they think you burn and what you actually burn are way off). For me it’s about half of what they say (oh how I wish running for an hour would actually burn off 1400 calories instead of the usual 700).

So the first week is done.

The results?

Down 3 lbs.

This week’s official weigh in = 168.

We’re not sure how long we’re going to be logging/tracking food. The ten pounds that I’m trying to take off will come sooner (or maybe later) than the weight that Meegan is trying to take off. We’ll do this together for as long as we decide.

In other news:

Meegan and I are getting ready to celebrate our one year wedding anniversary this month. Totally off topic from weight loss it’s is so freaking amazing that one year has already gone by. We’ve picked a place close to home called the Stonehame Chalet. Time flies when you’re in love…

Random…

I have a lot of things rolling around in my head as of late and can’t quite come up with one definitive blog post. I have sat down a few times and thought “okay I’d like to talk about (insert idea here) but then it just never came to fruition because I have the attention span of a…

Oh look a squirrel!

This post won’t be about anything in particular; just a bunch of random stuff that I’ve been thinking about lately and what’s on my plate these days (pun is totally intended here).

Meegan and I got weighed in last week after some debate about whether it was something we should do. If you’ve been on this journey with me for any length of time you’ll already know that I have a very unhealthy relationship the scale. In the past I’ve been known to weigh myself upwards of 6 – 10 times a day. When I still lived in Tacoma and was working with Godfather I took a big step and relinquished my scale and vowed only to be weighed at the gym once a week. It took a lot of emotional fortitude to stop stepping on the scale. I would walk around Target for no reason at all fighting the urge to put one of their scales on the floor and firmly planting my two feet on that little square of sanity.

It’s hard when you’ve been overweight most of your life and finally finding success in losing the weight to not become obsessed with what the scale says. Over time I learned to let go and when I moved to Halifax, Meegan and I agreed upon two things very quickly; a) no tv in the house and b) absolutely no scale.

When we are feeling the need to know where we stand in our weight loss (and maintenance) journeys we ask Chris down at Functional Fitness to measure and weigh us. The last time we had been weighed was late April and up till then I had been doing really well in maintenance. Holding strong at 160(ish) I felt my marathon training and food was really under control. I’ve heard lots of people say they gained quite a bit of weight during their own training and I didn’t really want to have to deal with the possible emotional set back it could bring.

After the Marathon was a different story…

One long road trip + not cooking at home + having a hard time getting back into the swing of marathon training for Sept + (insert life here) means that I’ve been noticing that my clothes haven’t been fitting as well as they had a few short months previous. Last Thursday Meegan and I decided enough time had passed and we should just go down and find out what we already knew to be true.

There is a gain in weight.

For both of us.

For me it’s 10 pounds. The scale said 171 and while most people would balk at the 10 pounds like it was no big deal it’s a big deal to me. I feel the difference in the gain. Body has been feeling sluggish. My mood has been directly influenced by the food I’ve been eating. Physically I’ve been feeling achy because of the increase in grains and I think the reason I threw my back out was because the extra weight put stress on my body.

The hardest part about maintenance is the act of being in maintenance.

Some days you just want to forget about breaking a sweat and paying attention to what you’re eating. The problem isn’t a day or two of not exercising and not paying attention; it’s when one or two days turns to multiple days turns to weeks and so on. Then you’re afraid to step on the scale and know exactly you already knew to be true. But there is power in knowing. There is power in listening to what your body is telling you. There is power in going back to what you know works and to know that while there is a gain, there is always opportunity for loss. So for now I’ve decided to go back to counting calories and logging my food. I’m using MyFitnessPal (username: prncssgrl if you’re interested). Something a little different for me this time is having someone to share the counting with. Meegan has also decided to give calorie counting a try to see if it works for her (but that’s her story to tell) and for the last week we’ve been diligently tapping away on our iPhones. We’ve also decided that we will get weighed in once a week at the gym for the next while just to keep an eye on our progress…

look a squirrel…

This past weekend we volunteered for the Epic Dartmouth Triathlon event. It’s different than an Ironman (and is not affiliated with the organization) but the idea is the same; Swim a long time, then bike for a really really really long time, then just when you’ve had enough run a freaking marathon. We were course marshals during the marathon at the prime time (3p – 6p) and got to see just about every runner come by. For me it was emotional, awe inspiring and down right one of the coolest things I’ve ever been a part of.

I made this sign for them because after a long day of swimming (2.3 miles), biking (112 miles) and running (26.2) I wanted them to have something (even if just for a few seconds) that put a smile on their face. They don’t know me. They don’t know that a few years ago I weighed 270 pounds and couldn’t get up a flight of stairs without being out of breath. They don’t know that watching them (even if just for a few seconds) makes me want to go big, makes me want to push my boundaries a little farther and for those few seconds that they thank me for stopping traffic so they can cross the street I am just as grateful that they are out there doing what very few people even dream of doing.

I have Peppermint Patty with me now but the idea of training for a triathlon is just too stressful this year. There is a lot of planning that I need in place in order to start thinking about going back to doing them (and more importantly I need a freaking job). This year I’m going to focus on the running but I’ve already put word out on the street (okay by word on the street I mean I talked with some other triathletes in the area) that next season I’m looking to get back into the swing of things.

This year I’ve decided to go for Marathon Maniac status. I didn’t plan it out very well so that the Bluenose marathon would count so I am shooting for 3 marathons over the months of September/October/November. Nothing is solid as far as plans go but I am registered for the Maritime marathon (with an extra bonus of doing the Tartan Twosome – 5k race the night before) and am now contemplating either the Valley Harvest Marathon/PEI marathon combination (a week apart) or one of those two and then shooting for the Philadelphia marathon in November.

So many choices…

So many miles to run.

Look a squirrel!

I feel good about getting back on track with eating and logging food again. I’ve also decided to go back to boot camp while training for this next marathon. My back is just about done being out of whack and I’ve missed going down with Meegan and breaking a sweat together while running around, lifting weights, doing squats and pretty much just kicking ass and taking names. The running won’t be as intense as it was training for my first marathon. I needed to get that first one out of the way to calm the nerves. Now it’s just about knowing that my body can run for up to 5 hours and not give in. It’s time to push just a little bit more and see about getting those guns back that I love so much…

Boot camp is tomorrow.

Weigh in is on Thursday.

Moving and taking control happens everyday!

Damn you landjaeger…

The Martin/Dowe household is down for the count.

Physically speaking.

Both of us are on the “injured” list. Meegan’s injuries are of course much more substantial (Girl + crosswalk + driver of big truck not paying attention = Big Owie) but this week I managed to throw my back out doing something so mundane it’s almost too embarrasing to speak of…

But you know I’m gonna share anyways.

Most weekends will find the two of us taking a nice long walk to the waterfront farmer’s market for veggies and what not. Mostly however it’s because we want to get our chops on some delicious landjaeger. You can usually find some in our fridge for quick snacks or to cut up when we decide that we don’t want to cook and have a picnic on the bed. I wanted that quick snack and grabbed a landjaeger which comes in two. I didn’t want two so I pulled it apart and in that quick second of snapping the pepperoni like sticks apart I felt a twinge in my back that I was all too familiar with…

I threw my back out.

This isn’t the first time it’s happened but it is the first time in a long time. I don’t know if it’s because I was just standing wrong or if because I had been working out more than my body was used too since I decided to return to boot camp in addition to beginning marathon training again last week and my body was just “weakened” by the extra work outs but that twinge has left me in a lot of pain and in that pain a lot of emotions have come up lately.

Both Meegan and I are pretty emotional right now and rightfully so.

We look longingly into each other’s eyes and wish that the other person could make everything magically go back to normal and when we can’t we feel the disappointment and frustration of almost feeling helpless. Right now being emotional is hard on us as individuals and equally (if not harder) on us as a couple.

I often wonder if the man that hit Meegan even gives a second thought to the way our lives have changed. I wonder if he lays in bed at night wondering if she is okay or if he caused some irrecoverable injuries to her body. I wonder if every time he approaches a cross walk he comes to a complete stop much sooner because the last time he wasn’t paying attention he ran someone over and that someone is my Red. I wonder if he knows that we had plans to run together, to hike together and to just enjoy life together as newlyweds and yet today we can hardly look at each other without the tears coming because of the stress caused by her long term injuries and now my short term (hopefully) back pain. I wonder if he realizes that many months after the accident Meegan would still be plagued with doctor’s appointments, the constant filling out of insurance paperwork and the long nights of not getting enough sleep because she’s in pain.

Having to deal with my own injuries makes it that much more stressful around here. Neither of us can return to the workouts that help us feel strong physically and in that physical strength uplift our emotional well being. While mine is temporary (fingers crossed) it still leaves me angsty to see people running outside as each day brings me closer to running my second Marathon in September. I want to be outside with my thoughts, my music and for just a little while not thinking about anything except getting to the top of some random hill I want to conquer.

We both feel defeated.

We hug a lot and remind ourselves that this too shall pass but to be honest I’m asking myself “what if it doesn’t”?. What if after all the doctor’s appointments, the physio therapy appointments, the massage appointments and whatever else the medical world wants her to endure to bring some recovery to her body it doesn’t pass? What if in that split second of her crossing the street and that driver not paying attention, it doesn’t pass?

Sometimes at night right before I go to bed I think about getting that phone call on November 7th. How everything we knew and planned was changed in that moment. I think about that guy a lot too. The guy that was driving the truck. He’s probably not thinking about us too much since nothing really changed in his life except his insurance premiums probably went up a little. It’s hard not getting emotionally charged up when you can’t go out and run through your feelings like I’m used too. It’s hard not getting emotionally charged up when you can’t go lift heavy shit and sweat out your feelings like Meegan is used too.

I miss hearing her laugh. We have our good moments where we forget but then a wrong move here or a wrong step there brings us back to reality. I know when I look at her she can see the sadness in my eyes just as I can see hers. We both feel guilty that the other person is having to experience not only their own pain (and undeniable feeling of being sort of lost) but in turn the pain of the other. I don’t know what’s worse; seeing her in physical pain or seeing that physical pain cause so much emotional strife for her.

We continue to shuffle through the days. Constantly asking if everything is okay knowing the answer on our lips usually doesn’t match what is being said with body language. Each of us crossing our fingers that the suffering of that split second walk across the street will some day subside, that the back pain will subside quickly and that both of us will return to doing what we love…

Laughing.

Direction (or lack there of)…

I often wonder if my time as a weight loss blogger turned marathon/maintenance blogger is coming or should come to an end. How long do I continue to sit down at the laptop and hope that (usually by some miracle) words will form coherently on my fingertips as the chaos of my thought process(es) continue to rattle around in my head.

It was so much easier when my life consisted of counting calories, measuring food servings and desperately fighting my morbidly obese body to get out of bed and move like my life depended on it. It was emotional and of course there were some days where I felt like I just couldn’t keep up with what I was ~~demanding~~ lovingly pushing my body to do but the focus was clear and the determination was fierce.

My life is so full of complexities I’m not sure what direction this blog is supposed to take. I write about struggles with food of which I still battle on a regular basis. I do the product reviews. I run the races (though few and far in between this year) and write the emotional recaps…

But there is so much more.

I don’t eat because I’m trying to lose weight. I eat because I am trying to remain a part of the small percentage of people that after losing weight keep it off. It was much easier when I had a set number of calories, a heart rate monitor to help me estimate how many calories I burned at the gym or on a run and a solid schedule to follow from the time I got up to the time I went to bed. Now I rely on how my clothes fit (or don’t fit) to tell me when I’m on track. A scale isn’t allowed in our house because the thought of stepping on it every day (and quite possibly up to 6 times a day) brings me to tears. I trust in my ability to cook meals at home, using fresh (as organic and local as possible) rather than a prepared frozen meal that I pop in the microwave as I calculate the recommended grams of protein to fats to carbohydrates.

I also eat because I am emotional.

Bored.

Don’t want to feel left out.

Want to be like everyone else.

Have cravings.

Don’t have cravings but just want to shove something in my piehole.

Lonely.

In pain.

Overwhelmed.

Confused.

Because I can.

It was easier when I could talk myself out of plunging a spoon into a pint of ice cream because for the first time in my adult life I wanted to pronounce to the world I was now considered over weight instead of morbidly obese. It was easier only eating a slice of pizza instead of an entire pizza because I was *this close* to going down another pant size and I wanted to take another picture of all my pant sizes (in descending size order).

Instead of that sometimes encouraging little voice urging me to take the road to Onederland because I deserved to lose the weight, that very same voice whispers “Tara, it’s okay to eat that cake now. Remember you lost 110 pounds. So what if your pants feel a little tighter, they are still a size 10…a size 10!!! Remember when you were wearing a size 24???? In fact, eat a second slice…with some ice cream. Yes you already had some chips, and yes of course you’re full and really want to be done eating but look around you. Everyone else is enjoying the calorie heavy food. Just one bite…”

Just one more bite.

(Maybe you could purge afterwards)

It was easier when I was only conscious of the food I was eating when losing weight. When I was with Mitch it didn’t affect me the way he ate. We were on very different paths and those paths were travelling farther and farther apart. His long hours at work and most of my eating done before I got home didn’t leave much time for shared meals. He had no interest in losing weight and I had no interest in continuing to eat the way I had been.

It was easier when I was living on my own. My world consisted of a bedroom I rented, a cabinet in the kitchen and a few shelves in the refrigerator. Everything I bought and ate was for me and me alone. I didn’t have to worry about whether someone would grow bored of having the same thing for dinner every night for a week. I didn’t have to explain why I was choosing to eat off of a specific list of food items. I didn’t have to think about other people, their food and the emotions that came with what they chose to eat.

I never really knew what it felt like to feel someone else’s pain and struggle. It doesn’t help that having Aspergers means it takes me a really long time to make the connection from what someone is feeling to what actions I should be taking (that is another story and one I still am trying to understand and improve on). But with Meegan I feel her struggle. I see the frustrations that she has with food and the long recovery from being hit by a truck just a few short months ago. I want to stand firm making “healthier” choices but it’s so hard when she is suffering not only from physical pain but also the emotional pain of not being able to move the way she so desperately wants. I see the comfort (albeit so very temporary) certain foods bring her and I don’t want her to be in that place alone.

Even the role of gender was easier when I kept my mind shut to the possibility that there was more gender-variance under my very own skin than I was comfortable acknowledging. When I started working out it was because I wanted to lose weight and that was the focus. Now when I think about working out, it’s not because I want to keep my “girlish” figure but because I want my body to look like a boy. The longer I keep the weight off, the more the idea of gender-variance becomes stronger. In that there is fear and in that fear there is comfort in food…

This blog started out as as a girl trying to lose weight through food and exercise.

But that’s not who I am.

My life isn’t about losing weight.

It’s about trying to make sense of who I am in this relatively new body, living in a relatively new place. It’s about understanding that the struggles of other people affect me profoundly and that my own struggles have become very complex. I need to allow this blog to become all of that without fear of losing readership. Without fear that I’m choosing my words because of what I think people want to read but rather because my words are important no matter who reads them.

I’ve been holding back writing about gender, love, loss, moving on, changing focus and what it’s like living in the moment of who I am because I thought I had to be strict in keeping the focus on food and weight loss. But in reality food and weight loss (or maintenance) are such a small part of the much larger picture. The bigger picture includes other people and my relationship with Meegan. It includes the freedom to explore gender and what that means for me. It includes making sure I remain in that small percentage of people who lose and maintain a large amount of weight loss.

So we’ll see what happens around these parts. We’ll see if I can relax a little and without fear of opening the laptop because what I want to write about may have nothing to do with what I’m eating but instead about how I felt dressing up in a hot fedora and swanky suspenders. We’ll see if I can open up about loving someone so completely that for the first time I understand what it means when someone says “When you hurt, I hurt too” and finding comfort in food emotionally not because of my own physical pain but because of the pain in someone else. We’ll see if I can open up about Mitch and the loss of that relationship even more than a year later because it still affects me deeply to have hurt someone the way I did (even if it was unintentional).

Don’t get me wrong; the running of races and the epic recaps and reviews will still be here. They are as much a part of who I am as everything else that makes up that handsome looking beast over there.

—–>

(in case you were confused at who I was referring too)

buckle in kids…

Start small and go from there…

*tap tap*

is this blog still on?

*tap tap*

It’s hard to believe that it’s been 3+ weeks since I spent anytime here on the blog. In fact it’s been over three weeks since I even opened my laptop and spent a significant amount of time surfing the web, checking Facebook, keeping up with my Tweetdeck or just checked in with the “outside” world. Of course having my phone with me meant that I wasn’t completely unplugged during the three weeks I spent hanging out with Meegan in Digby for a conference, flying back home to see family, friends and to pick up Dusty (and all the goodies packed inside her) and then over the last thirteen days driving the 3400 miles back to Halifax and finally recuperating in my own home but it was far less than what I’m used too. There’s so much to do now that we’ve moved what few things I had packed away in Dusty (and are now chaotically strewed around our apartment) that I feel more than overwhelmed…

I feel bogged down.

I don’t know where to start.

I feel like even the smallest attempt in getting back into some sort of routine is taking too much energy. Being in the car for 10 days driving for hours and hours has left my body sore and all I want to do the last few days is sleep (but that too is leaving me sore and having back pain from laying down too much). Being away from my kitchen and at the mercy of friends and roadside restaurants has left me with <insert random TMI warning here> weight gain, joint inflammation and the inability to poop on a regular basis. Don’t get me wrong, Meegan and I had a great time watching the road pass underneath the tires of Dusty as we stopped to see her friends and roadside attractions (including but not limited to the world’s largest moose, teepee, baseball, Canadian nickel, Canadian goose and a muskie that goes by the name of Husky) but let’s face it: I’m a homebody and I need to have my routine.

It’s the getting back into routine that’s seems to be the hard part. While my body doesn’t physically crave the multitude of carbs I’ve eaten over the last three weeks, my brain screams to fill my pie hole with…well pie I suppose. While my brain doesn’t crave the endless hours of watching the first season of Modern Family my body does because it just grew accustom to sitting for hours and hours only to get up for bathroom breaks, gas tank fills and the short burst of walking done when there happened to be a few extra hours in one of the stopping places on our road trip. We tried to make the best choices we could while heading home. We did not make one fast food stop while on the road (unless you count walking the mile round trip to Dairy Queen for a much “needed” blizzard). We stocked up the best we could with water, veggies, salami, cheese and snacks from our Healthy Surpise travel box (review coming later) and all in all I’m really pleased with how well we kept to our plan and the amount of moving we were able to get in while traveling.

I am spending too much time looking at the big picture of what needs to get done instead of looking at the smaller things I can do to start the ball rolling. I feel like I should stop eating all together to combat the weight gain. I feel like I should just stop running because the four mile run I did a few days ago left me too sore and how in the world could I possibly think about doing another marathon in three months (as well as the ultra I’m thinking about doing). I feel like I should just leave the boxes unpacked and stacked in the living room because the mess that it’s created is too hard to clean up.

Big picture = big stress.

I’m going to spend the next couple of days breaking everything down into manageable (and achievable) goals. Everything from what I eat to what I clean up to what I run. I know I just need to give myself time to let the “toxins” of food, lack of exercise and fear that what I’ve done (food wise) can’t be undone work itself out of my system. Instead of seeing an entire apartment that needs to be cleaned and reorganized I will just see a room (and if the room is too much I will just see a corner of the room). Instead of seeing the marathon looming in front of me I will just see the miles that I have planned for the week (and if the week is too much just the day). Instead of seeing all the symptoms of cravings, headaches and detoxing I need my body to do I will just see a day at a time (and if the day is too much just a meal at a time).

Little picture = little stress.

While it’s not starting from day one (because I’ve been doing this Life Changing Journey for over a thousand days), it is a slow down and an acknowledgement that it’s not always easy to just get up and do. It’s a deep breath, a step forward. A pat on the back for the small things that are tackled and a high five for knowing that from where I came…

Is where I refuse to go again.

Thank you from a marathoner…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M6oFIHJzaxo&feature=g-upl

Bluenose recap

On May 19th, I went to bed with dreams of running my first marathon.

On May 20th, I set out to make that dream come true.

It’s hard to write a recap of your first marathon (or at least it is for me). Writing about it brings a closure, a moving on, a sense of completion and a “it’s over” feeling. I spent so many months and so many hours ~~laughing~~, ~~crying~~, ~~walking~~, ~~singing~~, ~~yelling~~, ~~getting lost~~, ~~freezing~~, ~~sweating~~, ~~wondering what the hell I was doing~~ running this town that to have it all be over just doesn’t seem right…

And yet 5 hours, 8 minutes and 28 seconds after I crossed over the starting line…

I crossed over the finish line.

I read a lot of recaps and when I sat down to write my very own I had no idea where to start. Do I do a mile by mile break down? Do I talk about the things I really liked about the marathon and maybe even the things I ~~really really really~~ hated about the marathon? Do I explain the struggle to keep going when my body was tired and all I kept thinking about what I really should have signed up for the half marathon? Do I write about how at mile #25 I started to cry because I still felt so far away from the finish line but that before I could see the finish line I could hear it and those cries of pain, frustration, and exhaustion turned to elation because I was crossing that finish line without another runner and all those cheers were for me and me alone?

Sure you want to read about all that.

Who wouldn’t?

But my recap is a little different. I spent a lot of time alone on the route. I didn’t run with anyone. There was a pack of us that “ran together” but only because we were running the same pace. Every once in a while they’d pass me or vice versa and we’d look at each other in that “knowing” way of holy crap we’ve got a long way to go and keep moving. I spent a lot of time without my music (which is unheard of) because I wanted my mind to be clear. I wanted to feel everything during this run, this first marathon of mine. I wanted to spend time with just me and it got me thinking a lot about this journey I’ve been on for the last 2+ years.

I think running the marathon is a lot like the journey of weight loss for many of us.

or maybe just me.

When you get ready to lose weight you have these visions of grandeur. No matter how many times you’ve started, each time you decide to start again you feel strong. The right choices will be made. This will be it. No more “falling off the wagon”, no more late night snacking. Gym memberships will be purchased and you’re going to hit it hard. You’ve dreamed about what you’ll look like and the clothes you’re going to buy. Maybe you’ve even dreamed about all the things you’d like to do that you couldn’t do before: fit comfortably in a seat without having indentations on your thighs, go to the beach in something other than a long pair of shorts and a xxl t-shirt because you’re embarrassed to wear something smaller (and more comfortable), maybe take a spin class or join the running club you always used to see on a Saturday morning while your car idled in the McDonald’s drive thru…

This time would be different.

Then it’s time to step up to that “starting line”

And before you’ve even began you wonder if you’ve got it in you?

When I started this ~~journey of losing over 100 pounds~~ marathon I felt ready. This was what I wanted. I dreamed of what it would be like to be ~~smaller~~, ~~thinner~~, ~~fitter~~, ~~athletic~~ a marathoner. I’d ~~lost weight~~ run before: ~~20 pounds~~, ~~30 pounds~~, ~~50 pounds~~, 1/2 a block, a mile, 5k, half marathon. But this was different…

~~Could I lose over a hundred pounds?~~

Could I run for 26 miles?

(I could with her by my side.)

But truth be told, this ~~life changing journey~~ marathon could only be run by one person in order to make it successful and that one person was me. At 8:00 am May 20th I step over that starting line because while this was about running for 26 miles this was also about taking another nail out what used to be my morbidly obese coffin and earning the right to call myself a ~~weight loss success~~ a marathoner.

I didn’t know what to expect when I started ~~losing weight~~ running this race. I knew what it felt like to ~~lose weight before~~ run this course as I had done it previously but this time was different. This was the real deal. Either I was going to go big or I was going to go home and let me make a little confession here: Going home was never an option. But even with that kind of determination you never know what the ~~journey~~ race is going to be like a few ~~months~~ miles in.

I felt really good for the first half of the marathon. The other distances didn’t come far off the bridge so for the first two (ish) hours it was just me and the rest of those 26 mile runners. It was real quiet since not too many spectators want to see less than 300 runners come ambling by over the course of 120 minutes. Not like the 10k(ers) where the streets were flooded with almost 3500 runners:

Most of whom I ran into as I came back over the bridge.

It was a little bit of a shocker.

But even that is like weight loss. You think you’re the only one on this journey. That no one will understand what it’s like to ~~try and make good choices~~ run for so long. You think that because you have ~~100+ pounds to lose~~ 26 miles to run no one knows how your feeling. Then you see the faces of those also trying to ~~make the same choices~~ run the same street and you realize that it doesn’t matter if it’s ~~20 pounds or 100 pounds~~ 6 miles or 26 miles we all understand.

At the halfway mark I was forced to run through the finish line area as that was how the course was mapped out. It took a lot for me to keep running. Hearing people’s names being called out as they finished and the crowd cheering them on was almost too much to handle. They were finishing and I still had another half marathon to run. People ~~reach goal weight~~, cross the finish line and celebrate their accomplishment and I still had so ~~much to lose~~ far to run. But seeing them finish made me want to finish all the more. If they could…

so could I.

I wanted to be like those that came before me. I wanted to be able to tell people that ~~I’d lost over 100 pounds~~ ran a marathon and did it because I was determined to ~~change my life~~ finish. I wanted those people that were just beginning ~~their own weight loss journey~~ to run to know that I wasn’t born ~~thin, athletic, at the ideal weight,~~ a marathoner…I had to make myself a ~~success story~~ marathoner one step at a time.

cause even those baby steps bring you closer…

and closer

to what makes every step worth it…

The finish line…

What’s on your list?

I love to race.

There are many reasons why someone will strap on some running shoes, pin a number to their body and step up to a starting line. Some race because they have their eye on a bigger prize and time is of the essence. Some race because the medal at the end just can’t be passed up. Some race to raise money for a good cause and some run in memory of someone loved and lost.

I race for those reasons too.

But I also race for very personal reasons.

To say I love running would be an understatement. It has saved my life. It’s the one thing I’ve been able to do time and time again pushing myself farther (and sometimes faster) in order to prove that even when I feel like I’m failing I’m not. When I am in the middle of a run and I start to cry because I’m tired or far away from home and want to quit I feel like a failure. When I take a deep breath and keep running I am everything but a failure. When that tiny little voice in my head begins to whisper “you’re going too slow” and I feel like a failure, the big loud voice in my heart says “TARA, for the love of all that is pure you’re running! Who cares about time? Can you feel your heart beating and your muscles working?” and I am everything but a failure.

I push myself to step up to a starting line because that is the reward for my hard work. It’s the gift to myself as I wait patiently among the other runners and feel my anxiety slip away. That deep breath and slow walk to the timing mat that says “I earned this” and more importantly “I deserve this”.

I also race because I know there are other people on the route doing something so scary they think no one could possibly understand. I may not have lived in their shoes but I understand. The fear. The unknown. The “What the fuck am I thinking”. The “I’ll never be good enough”. The “I don’t believe in myself”. The “just keep swimming”.

If you’ve been following this blog for any given time you know that one of the most important parts about getting ready for a race is the sign I will wear on my back. Just about every race has had a hand written sign, laminated and safety pinned to my shirt so that people can read it as either A) they pass me or B) I pass them. Those that pass me I’m hoping for a little thumbs up or a few words of encouragement to keep going. Those that I pass I’m hoping to give them reason to keep going… A little message of “I understand” if you will.

I spent a lot of time thinking about the sign for this monumental race. My first marathon. It’s taken me a long long time to get here. A lifetime really. So many people out there lose a crap ton of weight and start running. Before long they’ve conquered the 26.2 milestone and go on to run multiple marathons. Its taken me almost two years to get here. Not because I couldn’t physically do it. If this was about physical capability I would have run a marathon a long time ago. This was all mental. This was about giving myself permission to do something solely for me that would take months of training and hours each week to accomplish. This was about taking my demons out the door firmly planted on my shoulders and then flicking them as hard as I could and leaving them at mile 5…mile 10…mile 19.

I didn’t know what to put down on my sign. The sign that says “I understand” and at the same time that says “I’ve come a long way baby”. The sign that causes that one person that feels like giving up the extra push to keep moving forward or that helps someone feel like they are not alone out on the course and that while some of us (and certainly NOT me) make it look easy a reminder that every runner has a story.

Every pair of feet that crosses the starting line is there for a reason…

It came to me yesterday in the form of an email and then a facebook comment. The bluenose marathon sent out a final confirmation/how to pick up your packet email and listed was our number. Normally I dream about what it’s going to be like to get my race packet and see my number for the first time. I wasn’t prepared to see it in an email. Was it bad luck to look? Should I wait? In the end I looked because well who wouldn’t want to know the number to the very first marathon they are going to run?

I took a few minutes to let that number sink it. It is a great number. 180. It wasn’t the 007 or the 253 I was hoping for but then again I was thinking I would for sure have at least a 4 digit number. I was impressed that with over 10,000 runners I got a 3 digit. I posted it on facebook and not long after I got this as a response:

” ‎180 degree change in your lifestyle!!!! Great work – we’re cheering for you all the way from Seattle”

(Thank you Universe)

I race because I am not who I was a little more than two years ago. The life I was living is so different to the life I am living today. I still fight the demons of my every day existence but the scales have tipped in my favor and I may not like myself everyday but everyday I love myself. I race because I’m lucky to be here. I’m fortunate to have survived the first 40 years of my life. If you look at me today the words “meth-head”, “smoker”, “morbidly obese” would come as a shock to you but those are words that describe who I was not that long ago. Those are the demons that sit squarely on my shoulder as I wake up early on race day morning and feel fear creep slowly into my spirit. Those are the demons that poke me in my side as I make sure I have everything I need and head out the door to the starting line. Those are the demons that whisper “you can’t” “you won’t” and “you never will”….

This is my sign for Sunday

And those are the demons I’m leaving behind at mile 5, mile 10, mile 19…

and

mile 26.2

By Any Means Necessary (and a review for Healthy Surprise)…

Windshield vs. Rear view mirror.

Feed me Seymour…

Random…

Damn you landjaeger…

Direction (or lack there of)…

Start small and go from there…

Thank you from a marathoner…

Bluenose recap

What’s on your list?

Recent Posts

Blogroll

Meta