Impossible is a typoRunning my pants off and loving myself along the way

Do Not Pass Go

You roll on up to a 4-way stop. What do you do? Driver’s Ed would tell you the person on the right has the right of way. But that doesn’t work when there’s someone on everyone’s right.  Mr. SUV takes his foot off the break the exact same time Ms. MiniVan does and they both surge forward a foot and then slam on the breaks giving BobbySue, strapped in the back, a juice box straw up her nose from the sudden jolt. Then they both wave, surge forward, wave again.  The Dude in the sedan is now raging, spewing expletives and giving the finger to everyone, while he waits for everyone to get their act together. And then there’s me, calmly waiting for it to all work out.

I feel like I’m at a 4-way stop with my life right now. Plans are surging and stopping. Other things aren’t moving at all. I’ve tried every trick in the book I know, and I still feel stuck. I’ve put on about 15lbs. And I’m super not happy about it. I’ve been eating out of frustration and not running. I know what to do in that area of my life, track points, wear my bodybugg and actually pay attention to it, run my pants off. My sense of frustration comes from “OMG can’t I just be done with weight loss?”. Other area of my life are not so simple. I don’t know what to do. What I’ve been doing hasn’t been successful, obviously, but I don’t know what new action to take except to be mopey and eat and that’s a terrible action.

Park-side Blues

I tore out of my house this morning to go for a walk. I slept really bad, didn’t wake up till late. Some of you are going to immediately pat me on the pack for being all healthy-like. But the truth is, I went for a walk to buy coffee and cigarettes. Pretty much the opposite of healthy living. And now I’m sitting in this park, looking at the water feeling like I should be writing a blues song.
I’ve been watching (and helping) other people in my life work towards their dreams, and I’m not doing anything for myself. I’m watching my life slip by me while I get all mopey and do nothing to achieve what I want. I’m in this class on leadership and personal development and I feel like I’ve accomplished nothing for myself. Like I’m in the mud spinning my wheels. I can’t even get my diet on track and get out of the house to run. If I can’t even do that, of course I’m not writing or working on my long terms goals.
In this class, we just had this Big Conversation about failure, that there is no such thing as failure, there is only a lack of performance. Well, I have it that I’m failing right now which makes me not want to perform at all. I’m always going to be a failure so why even bother preforming. My brain, the crazy Fat Girl side of my brain is knows with every ounce of her imaginary being that she’s never going to have the life she wants, things are never going to be easy, she will always struggle just to get by. And I’m exhausted by that. I’m exhausted by the struggle, good portions of which are imaginary.
There’s a lot of catch phrases in this course that distill down big ideas. One of those catch phrases is “context is decisive”. Context is like the glasses you put on to view the world and its thru that context that everything gets colored and informs your choices and your outlook. My context right now is that I’m never going to be successful and I’m never going to have what I want, or something along those lines. It is a context of failure. I keep watching other people be successful, celebrate wins, go for what they want and I sit back and whine to myself and eat junk food.
So, if there is no such thing as failure, only a lack of performance, how do you shift out of a context of failure? I guess the first thing is to get straight about preformance. Results are based on the quality and quantity of your actions. The quality and quantity of my actions are lacking and thus prodding the results I have in my life. I don’t have a book deal because I’m not writing. I don’t have a full time job because I’m not applying for them. Weight is slowly creeping back on because I’m eating like junk food will disappear tomorrow. You know what, I’m in Tomorrow Mode. “I’ll do that tomorrow”. “I’ll eat responsibly tomorrow.” “I’ll apply for that job tomorrow.”
The results I have right now are based on actions I’m going to take tomorrow.
So what’s stopping me from taking action today?

FatGirl vs. Zombie Flu

The camera slowly fades from black and an image of a filthy hand fills the entire screen. Fingernails are dirty, caked with filth, torn and ragged. The fingers twitch rhythmically as if the had was trying to drag itself forward. The camera slowly pulls back revealing that it is in fact a severed hand, no body in sight, yet still twitching forward. The camera inches back and up to an aerial view and the smoking remains of a zombie battlefield are revealed. Cars are on fire, there are dismembered bodies littering the street, obvious evidence of past explosions and puddles of dark murky liquid are everywhere. As the aerial view develops, a two story green house, looking very suburban and pristine creeps into the corner of the screen with a white curtain fluttering out of a second floor window.

As if this white fluttering curtain catches the camera’s attention, the camera centers on this window and starts to zoom in with gathering speed, until it zooms right thru the window and the image comes to rest on a pale white pristine hand, with an IV jacked into it with a bit of medical tape. The camera hesitates on this hand for a moment as its match creeps in to the shot to pull the IV out, then follows then follows it down to the floor as it clatters to a rest amid a piled of discarded coffee cups and snack wrappers. The camera follows the coil of the IV tube onto the floor and then traces it up the stand to the IV bag, hovering on “Medical Grade Chicken Soup”. The bag is mostly empty.

The camera drops to the floor amid the snack wrappers, tea bags, orange juice containers. You can see the view under the bed with rumpled sheets hanging off it. A foot emerges as the person on the bed prepares to stand. the foot is shaky and bare. It tests the floor as if to see if there is enough strength to stand. The other foot follows clad in a Hello Kitty sock. The two feet flex and adjust as the person stands.

The camera pulls back and starts to twirls around this girl in a white medical gown clasping the IV stand for balance as she takes the first week step forward. The room is empty save for a bed and a desk with a computer next to the window. She slowly steps forward, touches the computer as if for luck, and parts the curtains as the camera flies from behind her and over her shoulder into the blinding sunshine out the window fading to a painful white.

The film title dissolves into the whiteness – “FatGirl vs. The Zombie Flu”

I’ve been sick with the Zombie Flu. That’s the only way I can describe it. I’ve been dealing with life-stopping fatigue. I’d wake up, have a cup of tea and feel pretty good for about 30 minutes and then have to sleep again for 4 hours. Its been a week now since I started feeling better but I’m still dealing with fatigue. I’m hoping that today will be a better day.

DubyaWife’s snarkyness caught my attention on Twitter. Then she had to go a throw her own little Whine and Cheese party about how she was NOT a runner, even tho she was training for a 5K. Once we got THAT nonsense resolved and she declared herself a RUNNER, THIS is what became possible.

OMG What am I doing by Dubya Wife

The EXACT moment DubyaWife turned IMpossible to I'Mpossible

I hardly slept the night before.  New town, new people, new bed.  This whole Fitbloggin thing was new to me, but I was excited.  I rustled in the bed switching from side to side, hoping not to wake up my roommate.

Get some sleep, DubyaWife, you’re gonna need it.

Finally after trying to think of happy things… rainbows… fairies… unicorns pooping cupcakes… my eyes shut and I was out.  What seemed a moment later, the alarm clock ran, and I jumped out of bed eager to get on my running clothes.  I’m not sure why I was so eager but the nervous anticipation had me racing around like a rabbit in heat.

See DubyaWife, you CAN run! FatGirl told you so!

I made my way downstairs, across the lobby where I began to hear the chitter chatter of peoples.

Oh my gosh, all these people are here.

The nervousness set in more.

More people to watch my struggle, more people to pass me by.  More people to watch me fail.

I’d always imagined my first 5K to be at home, locally.  Not in Baltimore.  Perhaps running with my sister or my brother, who kept pace with me and encouraged me on.  All the while I was knowing that family and friends waitied at the finish line, ready to hug me, to give me a high-five, to cry with me.

This would not happen.

I was a face among a crowd.  I was in a strange city with strange people.  Only very few of them knew my 9 month struggle.  Would they know what this was worth to me?  Would they keep pace with me?  Would they cheer for me?

We made our way down to the starting line.  Nerves set in as a jumped up and down in place.

I am so nervous.  Omg, What am I doing!? WHAT AM I DOING!?!

I had been training since September of 2009.  I’ve had a popped bursa sac in my right knee,  stress fractured in my left knee, and up until this point hadn’t run 3.1 miles at all.  I hadn’t actually ever done this.  I was petrified…. and yet, excited at the same time.

Off we go, down the harbors of Baltimore.  There were many turns and streets we had to navigate, but I had some friends who were right there with me.

“We’ll keep pace with you, go as fast or as slow as you need us to.”

Right.  Great.  Breathe.  Slow.

As I went I listened to their conversation as they effortlessly talked during their run.  Envious a bit, I pushed the thought out of my brain.  It’s not about being like them.  It’s about completing this race.  One 5K – jogging the whole way.

My feet pounded.  My arms swayed.  My breathing rhythmic.

I can’t do this.  Eventually I’ll start walking.  And then I’ll hate myself for it.  I may be running now, but it wont last… just like all the times before.

Get that thought out of my head.  Get it out right now.  Remember what your friends said.  Slow pace, focused breathing.  Checklist of your body.  If you’re not injured, about to throw up, or close to fainting, keep going.  Once foot in front of the other.  One stride at a time.

And so I kept going.  I kept running.  Across wooden docks with the salty, fishy sea air.  Across cobbled streets with Old American architecture-like houses.  A gray haze was over the sky that day, no sun, so that’s good.  Perfect weather.  Perhaps this is the ideal situation for my first 5K.

My heart is pounding… My lungs are having difficulty breathing in and out… And every time I cough it feels like my throat is on fire.  I can’t do this.  I’ll finish this portion and then walk.

One foot in front of the other, DubyaWife.  Focused.

We get to the half way point… or at least close to the halfway point.  I get excited to see that I’m halfway done.

I’m only halfway done!?!? Hell no, I’ll never make it through this.  I’ve gone only halfway and I feel like I’m dying.  My heart rate is through the roof.  Only halfway!!!

Keep going.  One stride and then the next.  Focused breathing.  Listen to your friends conversation.  It will distract you. They are here with you.  They are running with you.  Look at your friends as they give you high-fives for making it half way.  They support you.  They want you to succeed, and you do too.  You can do this.  Keep going.  I find my friend FatGirlsCanRun.  She says she wants to run part of the race with me.  I’m inspired.

And so I keep running, making our way back.  I can’t talk and jog at this point, it’s too difficult.  The crowd is more sparse now.  Only me and my two running friends.  But they’re here with me, they won’t leave me.  I run beside another friend who seems to be struggling.  We focus our breathing together.  It helps me, I hope it helps her too.

I stride.  I stride and I stride and I stride.  We’re getting close at this point.  I look up and see the hotel that is our starting point.  That’s gives me some hope.

Omg, it’s so far away.  I’ll never make it to that building.  It’s so very far away.

I keep going.  I feel like I may cough up my lungs.  Back through the same path, twists and turns, salty harbor air, with wet ground beneath as my feet labor with each step.

I feel heavy.  My legs are heavy.  I want to give up.

The hotel is getting closer.  I can see that I’m closer now.

I’m almost done now, I can just walk the rest of the way… I should just walk…

I want to run in!  I want to run in and know that I finished it the way I started.

You can’t do it.

Yes I can.  Yes I will.

A couple more steps.  A frog develops in my throat.  Tears fill up my yes.  I see the corner where we started, but no one’s there.

See, there’s no cheer.  Your family isn’t here.  No one’s there.

I turn the corner.  I stop.  I look up as my lungs finally start to breathe.

And I’m bombarded with cheers… with hugs… with high-fives… with pictures.  With smiles.  I sob (and almost hyperventilate) cause I’m so happy.

I look up at the sky….

You did it.  You did it.  Be proud.  You did it.

I smile from ear to ear as I grab my phone and call my husband.

Me: “Baby, I did it!  I ran a 5K!”
Dubya: “That’s great!”
Me: <sobbing> “I can’t believe I did it, I ran the whole thing!”
Dubya: “I’m so proud of you!”
Me: “Oh I wish you were here, everyone’s cheering.”
Dubya: “I wish I were there too.  I’m proud of you.  Congrats, baby!”

And so something I thought was impossible was possible. Through the power of positive thinking and a little help with my friends.  

Dubya: “Now get off the phone baby and breathe, you sound like you’re about to die. Ha!”

Special shout out to: @262milejourney @runningknitwit @shrinkinggretch who ran with me and of course @FatGirlsCanRun

FatGirl chatting with Dr Fitness and the Fat Guy

Fat Girl: OMG I can believe we’re going on an internet radio show and we’re going to tell the WHOLE WORLD that we’re *whispers* F A T.

Fit Girl: I wonder if we should hydrate before the interview. I don’t think we’ll need to carbo load tho.

Fat Girl: Holy Handbags! What do we wear?? Will these yoga pants make my butt look big on radio? Does this mic make my voice sound fat?

There was a time in my life where I was doing a lot of television appearances, and I had a weekly radio show. I was living overseas, and as the token white chick in the government, they had me in front of the camera as much as possible. I remember coming home one day after being surprised by camera crews who wanted the local ex-pat opinion a boycott of French wines and good. I flipped on the TV and there I was. EEP! I dove for the remote. It’s amazing how fast a fat girl can move when properly motivated. The only problem – the interview was on the two other channels also. I promptly left the house for medicinal donuts and  sake.

At Fitblggin, I had the opportunity to be interview by Dr. Fitness and the Fat Guy for their radio show. It was a delightful experience and the guys are awesome. Their show is live every Thursday at 11:30am EST. Put in in your schedule and make it your medicinal donut for the week!

I had an hour to kill before my bus to Baltimore. perfect excuse to bookstore browse! I check my email and there is a Boarder’s coupon. I read the back cover of this book and get chills. It was the exact conversation I had had just a few days ago. My bus ride will be full of big ideas!

I think I’m awesome and am on top of the world, and then I’m not for a day.

I track and count points for a few days, then I don’t for a week.

I write a flurry of blog posts, and then I don’t for 2 weeks.

I run like my pants are on fire, and then I don’t for a month.

I’m out every night with friends, and then I don’t for a few months.

I’m one foot-in-one foot-out of everything in my life. I’m in and engaged and then out and disengaged with my own life. Some of it has to do with that tricky made up stupid fear talking inner Fat Girl who just wants to sit on the couch and eat snacks.

There’s a lack of inspiration too. I’m tired of watching what I eat. I’m tried of not seeing progress. And if I asked myself honestly, I’m not seeing progress because I’m not doing what I know I need to do to see progress.

I’ve lost 80lbs and part of me feels like I deserve a break. I want to have my own Whine and Cheese party and just be all mopey that I still have 40lbs to lose. I want to be down on myself and not celebrate how far I’ve come, because that’s easier than ramping up to finish the job. I know how to be all negative and beat myself up. And I’m really good at it!

It’s easier and safer to play the in-and-out-game. It’s not hard to win after all. You just do half the job, get cranky about it, and BOOYA, you’ve won!

And there’s nothing wrong with feeling and acting this way. I could probably live the rest of my life quite happily, floating around the 190lbs mark, running 5Ks and being an on again off again blogger. That’s perfectly fine and dandy.

But that game isn’t big enough for who I am. I want more. And who I am is more than that.

This is a conversaiton I had with myself about a week ago. There’s nothing wrong with being self-pitying and mopey and fearful and hiding and whatever it is I’m being right now. But I’m ready to be done with that, sort of.

I’ve sat on this post for about a week. I gave myself a time limit to feeling this way. On publishing this post, I declare that I am done with that way of being and I’m ready to step into something new. And I have no idea what that will look like, and it’s going to be awesome.

And the Crazy Fat Girl that lives in my head says:

I can’t wear that because I’m afraid that people will think my butt looks fat in those jeans.

I will only run at night because I’m scared people will laugh at me.

I’m gonna scarf this cupcake in the bathroom because I know some one will think oh she shouldn’t be eating that.

I’m totally not talking to that hot guy because he’s going to think I’m fat and ugly.

Do you notice a pattern here? There’s this voice in my head that stops me from being the person I want to be, from being the person I am, because I’m afraid of what people are going to think, say or do.

Here’s the tricky part – I don’t actually know what people are thinking. That voice in my head is making it all up. I don’t know that the guy I’m afraid to talk to won’t like me because well, I’m scared so I won’t talk to him so I’m never going to know. My head just assumes that is what’s going to happen so it becomes so real for me that this make-believe fear just cripples me and I end up taking no action.

And let me take this fear ride one step further – Say I ditch all the negative voices in my head and be who I am and who I want to be, there’s a fear that I can’t live up to that. I want to live an awesome life and make a difference for people, and what if I can’t. What does it say about me?

You know what it says about me? Nothing. It means nothing until I CHOOSE to give it meaning. And since I’m apparently making it all up in my head anyway, I can make it mean ANYTHING.

I’m really tired of that. I’m tired of being afraid of things that aren’t real. I’m tired of backing out of life. So hold on to your shoelaces people, fear doesn’t own me anymore.

What are YOU afraid of? What does fear stop you from doing? And are you ready to give it up with me?

Yeah, that’s right. I’m going there because that’s how I roll.

Mom, Dad, assorted family members, sisters of St. Dominic, and those under 18, please stop reading right now because it is only going to a) make you blush b) send me to hell c) provide the juice for long silences at the next family reunion.

So I’m out on a 3 mile run. Shouldn’t be too hard right? But today for some reason, I am struggling. Just over a mile to go and every thing is telling me to take the shortcut home or to walk the rest of the way. Fat Girl is screaming “Dear God. Stop the Ride. I wanna get off! I wanna go home!”

Fit Girl is even getting a little condescending patting me on the mental shoulder saying “It’s OK if you want to walk.”

Screw that man! I’m a runner and I’m gonna run!

Like a Running Ninja, I start whipping out every tip and trick and mental weapon tucked in the pockets of my ninja jammies.

Tactic 1: Release the Dory!! I sing “just keep swimming” ala Dory from Finding Nemo in my head over and over and over. It’s rhythmic, I can match foot strikes to the beat and it’s bound to make me smile.

FAILURE

Tactic 2: Open a can of Zen whoopass from ChiRunning. Get into your body. Lean into your run. Watch your breath. Inhale 2 steps. Exhale 3. Inhale. Exhale. In. Ex.

BORING! FAIL!!!

Tactic 47B: Bust a move on Lady Gaga. If you can’t get your mojo going to “Bad Romance” there’s something seriously wrong.

Crap.

There’s something seriously wrong, because even the Gaga can’t get me going.

The mental weapon of last resort – THE SEX.

I’ve got a mile to go and there’s nothing else to do but distract myself for the next 13 minutes than a steamy sex fantasy. Yeah, that’s right, I think about sex while running.

Sometimes it’s the outlandish campy classics, like “Oh Professor, is there any way I can get extra credit? I really need to pass your class”

Sometimes I’ll focus on someone I met in passing at  the guy on the train with the purple tie and the really big feet. Please feel free to leave your own raunchy Big Foot comment.

Sometimes it’s a little risque like that young NYPD beat cop I met a few months ago all young, and fresh and fit. NY’s Finest do come complete with their own handcuffs you know. Just sayin’.

And sometimes, I construct the phantom image of the most perfect man. Tall, educated, creative, powerful, well traveled, with eyes so blue it’s like a tsunami washing through you. He’s a runner too, natch. We’re out on a run through the countryside, racing across a field of wild flowers. He let’s me win, natch, cause he’s just that kind of guy, natch. Congratulatory kiss turns into frisky business which turns into nakedness. (I always fast forward through the getting naked part because no matter how you play it, getting out of a sweaty sports bra is just not sexy and hey, it’s my fantasy right? I can magic the sweaty clothes away like Hermonie in my own private Naughty Harry Potter. Speaking of – Naughty HP Triva Break – The character Oliver Wood was played by Sean Biggerstaff. Get it. Wood is a Biggerstaff.)

Wait, what? Where was I? See what I mean, thinking about the sex even distracted me from my own post, that last mile just flew by! And the cold shower I took when I got home was fantastic.

So Consumer Reports just released a new rating for diet systems giving Jenny Craig the top slot for most effective commercial diet program.

I’ve never done Jenny Craig or other packaged meal system programs. Not that I’m opposed to it but frankly pre packaged meals are not my style. I love to cook and I like to have a level of flexibility in my life.

Here’s a few things to note about the Consumer Reports study:

Consumer reports complied data given to the by the companies they evaluated and gathered from other resources. They did not conduct any research themselves.

The main study that they used to look at Jenny Craig, was funded by Jenny Craig and was at zero cost to the participants.

I worked with a girl who lost 80lbs on a pre packaged meal plan and she looks fantastic. And it really worked for her lifestyle. But my question is, what’s next for her? Is she going to continue to eat the food on the plan for the rest of her life? What tools did she learn for getting off the program? It worked for her lifestyle to LOSE the weight, what’s going to work for her lifestyle to stay slim and healthy?

And that’s what you really need to consider – what works for YOU. Look at who you are and how you live your life and make choices that fit that. If you hate broccoli, don’t do a diet that has you eating broccoli soup three times a week.

You know what, don’t do a diet at all. Make real changes to who you are around food and fitness and make that you’re way of life. Look, we all know that a supersized bag of chips is not a side dish right? Get in touch with your inner Fit Girl and let her make some of the decision. Diets work. But do you really want to diet forever?