Uncategorized

Obesity.

~ betsyhartley392 ~ Leave a comment
1898468_10153407349946258_3440774341656045308_o
Shay, firecracker Kora and I out for a walk! 🙂

My friend Shay said she had a blog idea for me.

‘This might be a touchy topic Bets, but you should talk frankly about what you think about obesity now that you are no longer in that medical category.’

Here are my thoughts on that topic… 🙂

At the time Shay sent me this note, I noticed a theme in my Facebook feed content; postings on fat acceptance, being ‘fat and happy’, miracle cures for  rapid weight loss, rampant and not-very-subtle, fat shaming. (Thin shaming is prevalent and malevolent as well, as my friend Taryn would remind me…)

Endless.

I feel that 80% of what I typically see is crap aimed at ‘helping’ people feel like there is a quick/effortless answer or trying to aggressively sell the ‘magic bullet’ to losing weight and getting healthy.

The part that I think is largely absent is discussion about managing and solving the oncoming tidal wave of issues headed our way given that 68.8% of our TOTAL U. S. population is currently estimated to be overweight or obese.

Let me say that again…

68pointfreaking8 percent of our U. S. population is currently overweight or obese.

Whoa.

A lot of the information out there is about ‘losing weight and getting healthy’, quick fixes or ‘loving who we are no matter what we look like’… There is not a lot of discussion to be found about solving the core issues surrounding the topic of obesity.

The hard issues and truths.

These are brutally difficult discussions to have because they are about people, their body and their very personal relationships to food/health/society.

So let’s take me for example. I mean, people approached me about my weight periodically.  And no matter what ANYONE tried to say or how they tried to say it, here is all that I ever HEARD…

‘Hey, Betsy, I can see you’re fat.

I don’t know if you know that.

Being fat is not a smart life-choice.  It’s not healthy. I’m sure no one has ever told you that.

Research backs me up.

I see a heart attack waiting to happen. I see that you are physically uncomfortable with every breath you take. And while you keep yapping about how you’re happy and healthy, I really think you’re protesting so loudly about being ‘happy’ because you’re trying to convince yourself that being fat and unhealthy is OK.

I think you’re too lazy to do the work to make your life different.

Why can’t you do a little work to try to save your own life?

Why can’t you just eat less and get moving..?”

Yeah.

THAT conversation – and variations on it that occurred over the years – never went well no matter who said it, how it was phrased or how loving or well-intentioned they might be in trying to help me find a path to health…

I really think they thought I would listen and not be defensive and immediately change everything I was doing…

Right.  

What would happen when someone tried to talk to me about losing weight? I would listen, thank them politely for their concern, be utterly humiliated and go find comfort food. Lots of comfort food. And then spend the rest of my life avoiding the person who tried to talk to me…

I obviously have some level of understanding on both sides of this issue now.

I hid from the conversations – real and imaginary – for years. Clinging with longing to those messages and ideas being pushed at me to demand that I be accepted exactly as I was, that society at large (pun intended…) is the one who had the problem with ‘fat acceptance’.  Not me.  Not my problem if they couldn’t accept what I looked like.

I was part of the obese population and related health problems for a very long time.  I didn’t want to face the core issues with my obesity and subsequent lifestyle-induced Type 2 diabetes. I wanted to convince those around me I was fine.  I wanted everyone to accept me as I was. I desperately wanted everyone to think I was a beautiful human inside and out. And there were endless conversation with friends looking for affirmation that I was indeed loved and worthy no matter my size.

From where I sit now… I can see that all of my posturing and fervent hoping was simply a way to avoid the core issues that I faced.

I was obese and unhealthy and didn’t want to do the work to NOT be obese. It is a hard work to change that kind of chronic thinking. And it is incredible amounts of on-going, non-stop work, to change life-long habits surrounding food and exercise.

Here’s what I think we need to acknowledge…

Obesity remains a taboo topic.

We have to quit ignoring the hard conversations about how obesity, and all that relates to it, is killing us and robbing our quality of life.

We need to talk openly about how the way to health, from obesity, is in most cases going to be a lot of hard, un-fun, not-sexy, work.

People need to take personal responsibility for their health and quit blaming ‘society’, genetics, life…  Those play a role, but in most cases they don’t have to OWN us…

So I’m going to do the only thing I can think to do…

I’m going to work, intentionally and consistently, to help shift the conversations with those around me.

I will talk less about weight and scales and talk more about fitness and quality of life and health.

I will be thoughtful about moving conversations away from diets and tricks and toward talking about life-long, healthy choices.

And  I want to talk purposefully and thoughtfully about reclaiming our LIVES from the grip of obesity while we still have the time and ability.

‘You have exactly one life in which to do everything you’ll ever do.  Act accordingly.  — Colin Wright

IMG_6364
On top of the world. 🙂

Life raft.

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 3 Comments
Ana Lu and I in the finisher's chute. Photo credit to Josh Gum.
Ana Lu and I, Mac 50K 2015. Photo credit, Josh Gum.

‘Running is 90% mental and 10% physical.’

This past two weeks… My brain handed me an a$$-whooping.

I have been in a battle with my brain. BIG. TIME.

And it was clearly winning.

Hands down this past 10 days or so have been the most mentally grueling days of running that I have had so far.

When you look at my Garmin/Strava – whatever would float your boat and give you information about my running – things looked pretty normal.

I can assure you my brain was NOT normal.

So what the heck happened?

I had a run a little over a week ago that left me feeling profoundly embarrassed.

I won’t go into details, because the more I actually spend time sorting this thing out,  the more I realize it is NOT about the details.

Not at all. 

It was entirely about how I reacted and the things I allowed my brain to latch onto and the things I kept telling myself  that just weren’t helpful or true.

A single run left me feeling embarrassed, humiliated and sad. And I let it get to me. I let it beat me down for over a week.

The next couple of runs following the ‘incident’ were horrible. Run a little. Stop and cry. Run a little. Walk in a crying tantrum. Run totally pissed off at myself and then stumble along crying in anger. I was oddly even more grateful in those moments that I run trail.  At least there were no human witnesses.

I had a recording of things running through my mind that were mean, uncharitable, nasty.

And I was listening to them intently.

And I was crying. A lot. I’m just not a crier.  That reaction alone was bewildering and confusing to me.

I had lunch with my friend Ana Lu the other day. I was explaining all of this; the process, the aftermath, some of my conclusions. I asked her what she did when/if she found herself in such a state of emotional turmoil.

For those of you who aren’t lucky enough to know Ana Lu, among the many great things about her; she is compassionate and unfailingly optimistic.

The one idea she had for me – that I think was particularly brilliant and helpful – was to build myself a ‘life raft’.

She told me to write myself a love letter, call a friend, pray, run in my favorite spot, read positive stories, journal, run with good friends who wouldn’t question my silence or tears, buy new music, put a huge note/poster on my wall with my next goal to keep me focused and excited…

And as an emotionally open person she told me (an avowed non-crier) that when I feel like crying mid-run I really just needed to STOP and cry my heart out – hold nothing back. Get it out of my system. No matter who’s watching. 🙂

She said I should use one or more of those ideas as my ‘life raft’.

She also told me I should blog about all of this. Not just because of the running aspect. She argued, that no one really talks openly about this side of the lifestyle change process.

It took me about three days after the ‘incident’ to realize that running was simply the trigger for this current emotional upheaval.  A conversation with my coach is what really helped me start to recognize and understand what was going on.

Ana Lu saw it too and she’s a good enough friend that she gently called me on it.

This wasn’t about running at all.

This was about self doubt. Fear. Lack of confidence. Shame. A distorted body image.

This was about the work that NOW needs to be done to help my brain catch up with where I’ve taken my body and my life.

And I think running is actually going to prove to be the perfect tool to help me figure this all out.

The maintenance portion/cementing lifestyle part of this whole journey is actually, statistically, harder than losing the weight.

Quick side note. Having been an overweight, chronic-dieter all of my life – I’ve always heard the idea about losing weight being the easy part… Quite honestly I thought people were totally full of crap when they said that.  Losing 220 pounds and reversing T2 diabetes was freaking HARD, relentless, scary work.  But now?  Now that I’m at a solid weight, eating healthy, staying active and focused on keep my weight within a healthy range… Turns out… They weren’t really full of it.

It’s all hard.

This ‘staying where you are’ stuff, holding strong to new lifestyle pieces you fought to reach, processing through the mental pieces that led to being almost 400 pounds after 40+ years?

This maintaining stuff is complicated and hard.

Ana Lu told me that statistics showed that once someone reaches their goal (whatever that lifestyle goal/shift/change may be) they are way more likely to bask in the glow of achievement for a short period of time and then quietly and slowly relapse into old habits.

Turns out that maintaining lifestyle changes is not the norm; it’s statistically not how the story ends for most folks.

I reached my goal of abolishing T2 diabetes and losing 220 pounds and learning to run…

So now what?

NOW I continue the hard work of hanging onto my lifestyle and really learning about my new life as it works day-in and day-out.  And continuing to diligently pitch some of the old crap – as I find it –  out of the boat along the way.

I’m not the same person I was.

I loved my old life and I love my new life.

I just have to keep working to help my brain catch-up with where I’m at. 🙂

Thanks to Ana Lu’s idea, I now have a teeny-tiny emergency life raft cobbled together. It is anchored close by and ready to go for the next run.

Do you have a life raft?

IMG_6337
Ana Lu, Carlos, me and Spencer. Dimple Hill. 

The first mile? It lies…

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 1 Comment
1501067_10153375932931258_7122044995604249637_o
Jeff and I at the North Face Endurance 50K last December. Jeff’s first 5K, 10K, half marathon, full marathon and ultra. All in a single race. 🙂

The first mile of a run is pretty typically…

…a liar.

Those first few minutes are not the whole truth.  It’s not even an accurate indicator of what’s to come.  It won’t be how the entire run goes.  You learn that you just kind of have to grit your teeth, ignore the lies and look for a spot to settle into…

Runners seem to all know this truism about that first mile.  Most runners are merciful enough to pass this wisdom along quickly to newbies they encounter.

Just ask my friend Jeff about that first mile.

The first mile we ran together?  This normally energetic and happy and optimistic person was … well… suddenly very NOT.

Not at all the happy, funny, positive guy I’m used to being around.  I kept encouraging him. ‘Jeff – the first mile sucks. It will get better. Hang in there. Keep moving.’

He made some pretty pointed comments to me that can’t be repeated on this blog.  Use your imagination. He sure did.

By mile three he was finally settling in and ready to kick into high gear.

He was no longer cussing me.

And most notably? He was smiling again.

image1-4
North Face 50K. We’re at the 10K mark of the race.  AFTER the first mile, but well before mile 20ish where he was using another finger in the pictures. 🙂

I got to thinking about this concept/phenomena the other day when I was running (comfortably and beyond that first mile). Why is it that with close to three years (averaging six days a week…) of working toward becoming a runner — why does that first mile still just kind of suck?

Let me reiterate something important…  I am NOT talking about THE WHOLE run. It really is just that ‘getting started’ part of each run that is not to be trusted.

Even this morning on a short, easy run on familiar and favorite terrain — it takes me a mile or two (or three on some days) to settle in, get a rhythm, push the naysayers that are screaming in my head out of my brain.

It takes me some time to simply battle it out with my legs and brain and heart and get all systems to accept that I’m going to run no matter what other plans or ideas they may collectively think they have.  So they should all just shut up and start working together already, please and thank you.

You’re really wanting to ask me why…  WHY do I keep running if it’s that hard each and every time I lace up my shoes and get started?

Good question.

Very good question.  

One I ask myself often.

It is because I know how I feel when I’m DONE running.

Not just a single run, mind you, I am talking about the cumulative HABIT and lifestyle of running.

No matter how poorly I may do in a single day, how much I fight my mind at the start, how wet/cold/hot/sweaty/grumpy/dirty/chafed I am, even if I trip and fall flat on my face…

I never, not once, no matter how good/bad/weird/hard the run is…

I never regret RUNNING.

Running as a habit buys me endurance and health and strength and pride in myself and a growing trust in my body’s ability to do difficult things. This doesn’t even touch on the other perks running has dropped in my life…  The friends, scenery, memories, laughter, enjoyment of being outdoors and discovering (after40 years!) the pure joy of being ALIVE and moving.

After that first mile or two, I almost always hit a groove or at least find a spot of some comfort with the routine.  My mind begins to settle down, my feet get more comfortable finding the earth and my heart starts trying to find the sky. 🙂

And besides, I will often remind myself, no one ever said the good things in life would come easy or be comfortable.

And the consistent, persistent habit of running?

It has very literally saved my life.

Running is hard. Making the time is hard. Fighting through some initial discomfort each time, each day, is hard.

All of that is still far easier than living with type 2 diabetes and obesity.

Running is just one of several important tools that help me continue in the process of cementing a lifestyle shift that keeps 220 pounds lost and gone.  Eating well and being active daily is what we hope, if I am lucky, will keep diabetes away for a few glucose-stable decades.

When that first mile sucks — all of THAT is what I try to remember.

When I start my Garmin and head out on a run, I use that first mile to try to remind myself of where I was four short, fat, unhealthy years ago.

I focus on the result and reward that I know – for me personally – comes from the process of fighting through that first mile day in and day out.

I think about how hard I have worked to create a new healthy lifestyle.

I think about being handed a bone-fide second chance at living life to the fullest.

I think about no longer being T2 diabetic or taking shots or swallowing handfuls of prescription meds.

I often think about how I have the ability and capability to run and walk and move when others do not and can not…

That first mile can lie all it wants.

I’m done listening.

I’m in this for the long run. (Pun intended.) 🙂

What do you do to get through that ‘first mile’ of whatever tough activity you have in front of you?

Jump
Mid-run shenanigans. 🙂

T1/T2

~ betsyhartley392 ~ Leave a comment
10501730_10152976393155130_8265820493417137005_n
Betsy T2 and Abbi T1 at the 2014 Oregon Tour de Cure ride for Diabetes

I get asked all the time, so I want to use a short blog post to try to explain the difference and impact of Type 1 and Type 2 Diabetes.

They’re vastly different.

Type 1 Diabetes (T1) is an autoimmune disease.  The body attacks and kills the beta cells that are made in the pancreas.  Beta cells produce insulin.  A T1 HAS to take insulin or they die.  It’s the ‘bad’ diabetes, the one they also call ‘juvenile’.  No matter what they call it — it’s deadly without modern medicine.  It’s important to note that insulin is NOT a cure, it’s simply a medicine that keeps our T1’s alive until we find the cure.  One other note? Eating or not eating sugar/carbs/sweets is part of their own personal care routine to balance blood glucose and insulin.  Very personal, very necessary and — well — diet changes simply aren’t going to solve the fact that they have an autoimmune disease and their pancreas doesn’t work.

Type 2 Diabetes (T2) is also called insulin resistance.  It’s a metabolic disorder. You may have heard it called ‘adult onset’.  We produce insulin, but our bodies can’t use it very well. It’s the most common form of diabetes.  It’s largely (not exclusively for those of you who want to bite my head off!) a lifestyle disease.  Years of poor/less-than-ideal food choices and lack of activity is commonly what has propelled most folks into T2.  Genetics, pancreatic injury and other illness can certainly play into the development and severity of T2.  The protocol for managing T2 is lifestyle changes, oral meds and injectable insulin. Diet and exercise are scientifically proven and important components in the successful management of T2.

There is a small cluster of other diabetes illnesses that you may have heard of as well such as gestational diabetes, T1.5 and monogenic diabetes.

Here are some basic statistics to help put this monster (and growing…) disease into perspective…

1.25 million Americans are T1.

29.1 million Americans are T2.

9.3% of the population has diabetes.

It’s the 7th leading cause of death.

1 in 11 of us have diabetes.

$245 billion is the ANNUAL cost for caring for those with diabetes.

1 in 5 healthcare dollars is spent caring for those with diabetes, while 1 in 3 medicare dollars is spent caring for those with diabetes.

If you want more information about anything related to T1/T2 or the costs/social ramifications check out http://www.diabetes.org

These numbers are all climbing – FAST! – in the wrong direction. Research dollars are not even close to keeping pace with the growth and impact of these disease.  Research for diabetes is critically ‘under funded’.

While I’m not sure if I know the exact words we should be using to discuss this issue I keep hearing the docs and health care folks I have the opportunity to interact with use words epidemic, staggering, out-of-control.

Given what I am learning about both major forms of diabetes, the people afflicted and the sky rocketing costs for care — those words seem sadly correct.

One of my personal missions in this life to see if I can’t work to get those numbers to start climbing faster in the RIGHT direction.  Or at least slow it down and get it turned and running in a better direction.

What other questions do you have about the difference between T1 and T2? 

I’m so sorry…

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 10 Comments
Chasing hannah
Jeff, Wendie, Josh, Taryn and I. Running to the finish line of the 2014 Eugene Marathon to watch Hannah cross the line with a Boston qualifying time! (Photo Taryn Hand)

I have had two conversations this past month with women who were obese and working their BEHINDS off to get healthy.  Both are 12 months or more into their transformations. They’re determined. Loving the changes they are experiencing. It is great FUN to talk to them! (One of them is successfully and aggressively reversing Type 2 diabetes!)

Conversations with people chasing down new and healthy lifestyles almost always find their way to the topic of learning how to love running/exercise/activity.  How do you make activity a permanent part of your new life? Making the time in your daily routine, have accountability partners, signing up for classes, having a goal…  We rehashed all the tricks that work.

Individually they finally expressed the same underlying concern…

They want to start running and know that they will be more successful in learning how/sticking to the habit if they were to join in on walks/runs with other people.

But they’re worried and embarrassed and fearful…

‘People will make fun of me.’

‘They’ll get frustrated at having to wait for me because I’m so slow.’

‘Maybe I should wait until I’m in shape and thin before trying to run with anyone.’

‘I won’t be able to keep up.’

I KNOW the feeling.

I remember the fears with stark clarity.  I was in the same boat when I started.  I will admit that I even dip my toes back in those waters of self-doubt periodically if I’m tired, or feel intimidated or I am trying something new….

Fearful and apologetic…

The layer of fear and trepidation and hesitation was more suffocating than the layers of fat I was wearing…

Here’s the advice I passed along.  (I work to keep this front and center of my brain even now…)

1. Find a group/person that specifically says ‘everyone welcome’.  Take them at their word.

2. Be honest about your abilities and goals.  If you can run a 14 minute mile – and you are working to run two miles in a row.  GREAT!  Tell them. No shame, no bragging, no apologies. If you won’t be able to keep up or there’s another group that’s more your speed; they WILL tell you!

3. Plan to have fun!  Enjoy being outside, with other people who love to be active.  The enthusiasm of being around people who love what they’re doing is contagious.  Try to leave your insecurities and discomfort and fears in the car.  Be positive about what you think you’ll experience and you will be surprised how often your expectations become reality.

4. And last, but perhaps the most important? DO NOT APOLOGIZE… Groups that run with a variety of abilities often have pre-set spots where they’ll re-group mid-run. When you arrive to the group of runners who are waiting for the rest of the group to gather up before heading off on their next section; do not apologize for being the last one to arrive or for making them wait.  Just don’t apologize for anything… You’re giving it 100% of your best effort. You’re moving and trying and growing and being brave — and they know it.  They’re happy you are out there with them.  I promise you that this is the truth.

Apologizing highlights your insecurities.  Chronic apologizers can be tiresome for even the hardiest, most supportive of souls…

I know.

I did it for YEARS….

I spent decades apologizing.  For being fat.  For being in someone’s space.  For not fitting in my airplane seat.  For having to have special accommodations for my size/diabetes.  For being the last runner up the hill.

I spent the first year running apologizing left and right.  ‘Uh… HELLO.  Look at me.  280 pounds and literally shuffling along in a 10K and trying not to die.’  I didn’t belong in this world of runners and I just KNEW someone wanted to tell me that; and didn’t have the guts.  Make no mistake — I was giving it 100% effort every single time I put on my running shoes!  But I knew I didn’t look like any of the others who were out there at the event…

My reaction?  (The reaction I’ve used my entire life?!)  Self-defense mechanisms firing like a freaking machine gun…

Apologize profusely before anyone can point out the obvious.

I went on my very first trail run with my friend Josh Gum.

He’s the first person who asked me to go on a run with him. He wants everyone to learn to love trail running like he does. He said he would run/walk/hike — whatever it was I was capable of doing/wanting to do that day. For some odd reason, I just trusted that he was telling me the truth.

I was nervous as hell – and apologizing all over the place for the first few months I was able to find time to run with him.  He would run ahead at times and I would catch up and apologize for making him wait…  He would stay with me for bits and we would chat about running and life and tell jokes and I was hammering him with questions about running/trails/food/lifestyle shifts.  Chafing.  Good lord.  We talked a lot about preventing chafe. 🙂  I would routinely apologize for holding him back from running faster. Or if I was sucking wind and just trying to hang on and run a little bit further…  He would tell me stories, not let me quit or we would run in companionable silence.   I would apologize for being so slow when I could finally breathe again.

At one point he tired of telling me to stop apologizing.  He told me, gently yet firmly, he was done listening to me apologize for learning to run and giving things 100% and I needed to knock it off.

I needed to stop doing it for my own good.

I had nothing to apologize for.

I walked away and really thought about what Josh said.  STILL think about that short, yet important, conversation.  I need to ask him about it one of these days, but I figure he thought I would work ‘apologizing’ out of my system with some confidence and experience running.  When he realized it was just a bad, self-deprecating habit that didn’t belong in my life or my new lifestyle I was building; he cared enough to call me on it.

And I trusted him enough to listen.

Honestly?  You might run into competitive, mean, snobby, impatient, whiny, defensive, judgmental folks in your journey to learn to make activity a solid part of your life.  But be fair about that for just a moment… We run into jerks in all walks of life. It’s just that we’re hyper-tuned to it around our bodies/running/sweating because we’re feeling so horribly vulnerable.  In so many aspects of life we – as strong and smart people –  tumble/fight/persevere through those interpersonal obstacles multiple times a day and don’t even look back. But jerks exist.  Just don’t go running with them a second time.  🙂

You WILL also be blessed beyond measure to find some amazing, strong, fun, funny, wise, kind people on this journey to health!  Keep your eyes wide open.  There are LOTS of good people out there that will support, encourage, nudge you along when you need it the most.

What advice would you give to someone just starting out on their journey to become active?

Compare and contrast

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 2 Comments
IMG_5107
Family time at Disney. Dan, Deb, Justin, Joey. My mom went the year Disney opened the park.  Disney celebrates its 60th anniversary this year!

‘Please pull the lap bar firmly down on your lap.’

Some situations lend themselves to comparisons.  You can’t help it. You have too much experience with it not to recognize in a moment of history-driven clarity, some of the changes that have occurred over your lifetime.

Disneyland is one of those situations and places for me.

I grew up in So Cal, a life-long fan of the Disney enterprises.  Some of my fondest childhood memories are of Walt’s Magic Kingdom and time with family and friends.

I was just there on a short trip with my sister, bro-in-law and nephews.  A MUCH needed vacation with my family.

I’ve been to Disneyland on and off my entire life.  This was the first time I’ve been here since I’ve been at a set, comfortable weight and also solid and happy with my eating habits.  I’m in a good spot. It was fun to be back to Disney to see how my new lifestyle meshed with my old stomping grounds.  Happy old with happy new. 🙂

I did discover that walking by corn dogs, endless candy, Dole whip or Churros is still NOT easy.

In fact…

It’s STILL damn hard.

Which isn’t really that surprising.

Those foods have very happy memories tied to them.

I realized that very little with Disney is really hunger driven (except for screaming toddlers — that could be hunger or nap!) it’s mostly driven by emotion, smell, impulse, boredom (from waiting in lines!), marketing/availability or crowd pressure.

I’ve been at Disney when I was 400 pounds and now at a healthy weight, with more established eating habits; there was a BIG difference in how I experienced Disneyland this time around…

Lot’s of comparison moments. And my family was chiming in with ‘remember when…’ comments. It wasn’t just me thinking them.

39747_481291011257_3711831_n
Disney 5 years ago. My sis and I went the year my mom died. I’m probably close to 285 pounds in this picture. 

The one thing that remains the same?  The MAGIC of time, laughter and fun with your sister, bro-in-law and nephews. 🙂

Here’s the random collection of what I noticed this time around…

You can not help but recognize that food has strong emotional ties in a place like Disney. And even when you LOVE your new life, planned carefully, brought most of your own food and you KNOW you feel like crap when you eat junky foods….  You still smell a waffle cone baking or see someone eating a Mickey Mouse designed caramel apple and it’s all you can do not to go find it/eat it.  I spent a lot of time reminding myself that while the smell triggered happy thoughts, I most certainly didn’t have to actually eat anything to enjoy the moment or the memory.  Lots of brain calisthenics while standing in line for rides relating to food and hunger.  And a few accountability/reality check-in texts to a friend helped too.

My nephew Joey was riding with me on a ride. It gives the instructions that the smaller person should sit to the inside.  He innocently told me I had to get in the ride first.  I smiled HUGE and laughed.  He was totally confused.  He’s 6 feet tall. I’m like 5’7″, maybe. 🙂 However, I clearly remember when he and his brother were little dudes and I couldn’t ride on rides with a set lap bar with them — because when it touched down on my ‘lap’ — it wouldn’t have protected them at all.  My lap was too big.  The lap bar now TOUCHES my lap, it’s doesn’t land awkwardly on my belly.  Such a cool sensation to feel that lap bar touch down on the tops of my thighs. 🙂

Waiting in the ques for rides, I can walk normally through the turnstiles and size-restricted openings they use to control crowds.  I didn’t have to turn to the side or shimmy through narrow openings and hope that I and my belly would fit.  And if we (me and my belly) didn’t fit easily, I clearly remember the embarrassing gymnastics required to fit through the openings or to fit into rides desperately hoping that NO ONE NOTICED.

I rode the swings in California Adventure for the first time ever. Loved it. Knew I would. Rode next to Justin and laughed and screamed and enjoyed flying through the air the entire time.  I’ve always wanted to ride those swings, but they had a 250 pound maximum limit.

I am no longer a T2 diabetic, however, I still know where all the Sharp’s containers are located through both parks.  I noticed that at the end of the day the containers were nearly full.  Most of them look like insulin needles.  I KNOW those syringes are used for other things, but I got to wondering just how many T2’s were walking around the park with me…

Walking around and even standing for long periods of time felt GOOD.  I’m physically fit this time around.  It was not a chronic pain-fest of trying to move forward, covered in blisters and chafe and miserable from the heat and looking for a place to sit because I was totally exhausted from simply standing and walking.

Food? I packed a lot of my own stuff and carried at least a meal’s worth of snacks in my purse into the park each day.  I stuck to my plant-based eating the entire time. Was it easy? Not too bad to be honest. Disney actually has some great plant-based eating options if you look around. I rather enjoyed the challenge of trying to find healthy, plant-based options. And made several happy discoveries!

I am grateful for my family and to be able to spend time with them.  The boys are growing up so danged fast.  There will come a time when vacationing with their Auntie is not high on their list.  Thankfully, that time is not now. 🙂

I do continue to battle the daily fear and anxiety that ANY break from this carefully crafted new lifestyle will land me back welcoming my old, unhealthy ways with wide-open arms.  That didn’t happen this time.

It felt good to break from the routines of life and yet really miss them at the same time. Food, exercise, sleep. And then to be just as excited to get back into the routines seamlessly and happily. I loved Disney AND I’m excited and ready to get back to running.  How cool is that??!  🙂

I was also reminded that this new lifestyle is good, hard work, ever-evolving and not to be taken for granted for even a single day.

All of this is a CHOICE.

One bite at a time. One step at a time.

My job is to just keep making one good choice after another as often as I can.

Vacation to Disney with my family was a great choice.

DNF / SOB

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 4 Comments

Betsy in sun

DNF.

If you have entered races to run, ride, Tri — you are probably cringing (in sympathy) right about now.  You know what those little letters mean…

DNF.

Did Not Finish.

The SOB (Siskiyou Out and Back) was this past weekend. My first attempt at running the 50 mile distance. I made it 41 miles and missed a course time cutoff.  My race was over after 10 hours and 17 minutes.

Not by my choice.

8 miles short of the finish line.

I have been working for this distance since the day I met Josh and Wendie Gum three(ish) years ago and Josh uttered the word that would begin to radically change my ideas of running…

‘Ultrarunning’

Ultrarunning is any running distance over a marathon (26.2 miles).  I’ve done several 50K’s (31 miles) and I’m now working on the 50 mile distance.  I have friends working to crush the 100 mile distance this September. Combinations and distances in ultrarunning are endless. Mind-blowing.

I am utterly enthralled and in love with this sport, the people, the community.

I’m trying to get my mind around what a DNF means.

This is my first.  And it won’t likely be my last.

What did I learn?  How do I apply the lessons to my training and my next race?

I’m also trying to soak in the absurdly obvious fact that I have a handful of patient and loving friends who were giving me space and yet keeping me close all at the same time.  Letting me figure this out on my own.

One of the top lessons came from a conversation with a seasoned ultrarunner who was volunteering at the station where I DNF’d.  He sat with me for quite a while.  He said he knew I wouldn’t understand what he was saying immediately – but it would sink in at some point…

Here’s the essence of what he told me:

You trained hard.

Logged countless miles and hours. Learned and practiced. Fell more in love with the sport and your body’s ability to work hard. Saw new trails.  Met new people. Pushed boundaries. Gained strength.

You showed up and toed the line when others were too scared to sign up or show up.

You ran 41 miles.

NO MATTER how today went no one can take any of that away from you.  It’s yours. You earned it.

Today is just one more day in that process.

Here’s what I have learned so far…

Positives?

  • I finished a solid 41 miles.
  • I’m safe, healthy. Not even a blister or lost toenail.
  • I could see two years of work with trying to fix fueling (calories on the run) and gut issues play out perfectly. FINALLY!
  • Descending (running down hills) and my confidence with descending was much improved over my work at Western States Training Camp in May.
  • My mental strength was solid and my strategies for conquering my scared/negative/self-defeating thoughts WORKED.

41 miles of good stuff.

I don’t think I have to tell anyone that it hurts the heart to miss a goal that you have worked hard for.  I felt pretty crushed. Embarrassed. Frustrated.

However, I was NOT defeated.  VERY important distinction.  I never thought about NOT doing this again, all my thinking was scrambling to figure out what I screwed up on, what I needed to get better at and how to fix it.

What have I learned?  What will I work on?

  • Become a faster runner.
  • Run more of each hill.
  • Hike faster/stronger on steep stuff.
  • Don’t be a jackass/rude/dismissive to the volunteers at the aid stations.  I was NOT!  Several of the other DNF’s exhibited poor sportsmanship and crappy attitudes.  Never OK.  Ever.

This is my breakdown of the race. (Here’s the map sob-50-mile-map)

I have several running friends who read this blog and they suggested that my version of a play-by-play would be interesting. Typically race reports are more about strategy, fueling and terrain – things that would help other runners know what to expect and how to prepare to run the course. Uh… Mine aren’t. My ‘race report’ is about what I was feeling and thinking.

I hope that you enjoy my ‘race report’. 🙂

Mile 1-4.  Scared to death. Super upset belly. Breathing wouldn’t settle in. I was gulping air and trying to find a rhythm for my feet and lungs…  I got paired up on the single track with a woman from Gold Beach, OR.  She said she was really struggling with nerves/belly/breathing.  I admitted the same. I thought about it for a bit and then told her that ALL of that could be easily explained away by 1.) too much coffee at the ass crack o’ dawn to make sure we pooped before the race and 2.) the freaking altitude (5,000-7,000) for us sea-level girls.  We laughed and nerves were instantly gone…  For both of us. I ran with my new friend for 22 miles and DNF’d with her as well.

4- 22. I worked on getting comfortable. Welcomed the routine of trying to settle into a long run.  I kept going over the course map and my plan in my head, reviewing the map mentally to see if I could tell what might be coming next terrain/aid station-wise.  Fueling (calories) was perfect to the minute and my gut stayed intact.  I remembered thinking – no matter how the day goes: this segment is a win on a bunch of important levels, training is playing out perfectly and these are things I can keep building on. Looking back – I also have to wonder if this section – where I was feeling the most comfortable – is this where I should have pushed harder? Would more effort here have made the difference?

21 – 22. The women grouped up and running with me at this point started talking about how we were not going to make the time cut-offs. The talk was about races they hadn’t finished.  How HORRIBLE the hill ahead of us at mile 25 really was. How they probably should have trained more. It was negative and soul-draining. I played with positive mantra’s/sayings in my head and tuned those women OUT.

23 – 25. I raced through the aid station forgoing water, purposefully, to leave all the women behind me.  I hiked with what I thought was solid purpose.  Including a fast hike up the rock field to the tippy-top for the ‘token’ to prove I had been at the turn-around point on the course.

25 – 28. Turn around and run back to the aid station. I focused on fast feet.  I ran the entire way.  Every step. If I was going to miss a cutoff, I wanted to at least have done it running downhill in the way I had trained.

28.  Wards Fork aid station volunteers said keep moving and I should make the  cutoff at Jackson Gap. I knew this was the 6-7 mile sustained climb section between aid stations.  Mental anxiety is spiking back up at this point. I kept working to stuff it back down. My strategy ALL along had been to hike this entire segment fast with a little running if I hit flats. More of the trail was runnable than I remembered on the first trip through. If it got flat or I could see a small crest – I ran. I pushed hard.

35.5.  I hit Jackson Gap aid station and they said I was at the cutoff; I had to keep moving.  Those words were just a huge mind f*&k.  I looked at the volunteer who was talking to me and burst into tears.  I just stood there crying and trying to pull my shit back together while they filled my hydration pack with ice, made sure I was physically OK to keep going, handed me some grapes and sent me up the road.  I was already moving at what I thought was going to amount to an all out effort for 50 miles; I wasn’t sure how much more I could push at this point and actually have anything left to finish. Coupled with a mistake rookie-style? I hadn’t written down any of the distances from aid stations. I KNOW BETTER. The volunteer said it was 4 miles; it was over 7.  I was mentally pushing to piece things together as I ran, I felt confused and turned around at what was likely the 4 – 5 mile mark because I knew I should have been at an aid station. I was clueless at this point because my Garmin had died.

Two guys in front of me walking up the hill right out of the Jackson Gap aid station suddenly turned around as I was headed uphill.  They said they were done, they’d done the math and there was no way they could make the cutoff.  “No reason to put in the effort at this point.”  I nodded and kept moving past them.  I remembered thinking ‘F*&^ THAT.  I’m not quitting.  They’ll have to pull me off the course…’ I stopped crying, put my head down and got serious about trying to make the cutoff.

35 – 41. I ran when I could and walked on the steep ups.  I also had to walk on some of the steep downs. I noticed I was getting tired; my toes were dragging and catching everything as soon as I let my attention waiver. This section is partially on a steep North facing slope that I swear was really just a game trail with an immediate and unforgiving drop off. Falling would require search and rescue.  No joke. I was also stuck on the narrow single-track with a PSYCHO running companion. She was hysterical, depressed, loud, opinionated, abrasive.  When I slowed; she slowed. When I ran; she ran. I wanted to push her off the cliff. BUT that’s not nice or allowed.  So I worked HARD on not letting her non-stop chatter get in my head.  I kept thinking about even though I was pushing the cutoffs and my gut was sinking with the idea that this next cutoff might be the last…

  • I was running a race I could be proud of.
  • Spencer (coach) wouldn’t be disappointed in me, my effort or my attitude.
  • I hoped everyone was wrong and that we would beat/slide past the cutoff.

I was trying to stay in the moment with picking-up and purposefully placing my feet, breathing calmly and keeping my mind working by counting groups of foot steps that were taking me closer to the finish line.

41. Siskiyou Gap aid station, done for the day.  Here’s the snapshot in my head:  I crest the hill from some trees, with single-track in front of me.  I see the tent at the aid station in a small clearing.  A woman (not the psycho one, she was finally behind me a bit…) that I had been running behind for several miles is between me and the tent in the open space, sitting on her knees with her head in her hands.  Five volunteer faces look up at me as I come out of the trees and three of them start shaking their heads slightly… You don’t even really need to hear the words…. ‘I’m sorry. Your day is done.’

This is the race that earned me my first DNF.  It really is a SOB. 🙂

It’s also the race where I met new friends, got sage advice and learned that I CAN fuel correctly. By early that evening I was reminded that my family and running friends are pretty damn spectacular.

And at the end of the day(s), with the pity party finally done and my mind settling into accepting the lessons that were handed to me…  This race turned out to be a fantastic training run on stunning trails and one more character building experience in this whole process of embracing and living a healthy lifestyle.

And no one can take any of that away from me.

Boundaries.

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 2 Comments
IMG_4886
If only all boundaries were this clear… 🙂

One of the pieces of this whole lifestyle/T2 diabetes/weight loss journey that has been the most mind boggling to me?

Boundaries.

Some I had to learn, some I have to set and some I’m just now stumbling into.

In the trail/ultra running world that I have fallen in love with — it’s all about respecting, learning and pushing boundaries. Then you train and work to get past perceived and real boundaries.  (Feel the fear, ignore the temporary pain and do it anyway.)

Then there’s people. Holy smokes. Hands down, relationships and boundaries involving people have been the hardest for me. Figuring out where boundaries might be helpful, testing the waters, re-setting, communicating, re-enforcing those new boundaries.

I know I’m writing a blog about ALL KINDS of deeply personal stuff.  I’m almost always willing to be in intimate conversations with people (even strangers!) who want advice or need a listening ear or want to share their successes. I speak publicly, openly, honestly about the journey I’ve been on, what I’ve learned and the changes I’ve made in my life.

So I understand that what I’m about to say is an odd, conflicting confession of sorts…

I have also been establishing some boundaries.

I have never considered myself a guarded person. This has been new and uncomfortable ground for me.

Yet, in the past two years I found myself in a place where I had to put up some defenses to protect myself and my newly established habits.

It threw me off balance for quite some time.

I did what I usually do at first when things get difficult; I ignored it all. (Genetic trait, I’m pretty sure.)  Big, scary, hard topics coupled with the fact that I harbor a sincere, deeply embedded worry that I might disappoint or hurt someone. So, I just averted my eyes and hoped it would all settle out, resolve itself, go away…

Even when it was painfully obvious that ignoring some of these growing issues was not a sustainable or healthy strategy… I continued to fight it because it just felt wrong and selfish.

‘Daring to set boundaries is about having the courage to love ourselves, even if we risk disappointing others.’ — Brene Brown

I was 392 pounds, insulin dependent, Type 2 Diabetic.

I successfully battled diabetes and lost a lot of weight (non-surgical).  I’m told that losing that amount of weight and reversing full-blown T2 is a rare, single-digit feat of accomplishment.

That low percentage seems legit to me, given that I have only found a handful of people who have done the same thing in successfully re-inventing their lifestyle.

Please understand — I absolutely have stalwart friends, cheerleaders, support and encouragement.  100%.  More than 100% at times.

I was 2 years into my journey when I finally connected with a handful of individuals across the US who had ‘walked in my shoes’ and truly understood what I was trying to do.  They’d been there.  Done that.

It was so exciting to finally make these connections!

Over time, in conversations with each of them, they have all expressed roughly the same version of sentiments about our respective journeys…

It’s a lonely, hard, life-changing, I-will-never-go-back, you-really-have-to-do-it-on-your-own, kind of road.

The other common angst that emerged from conversation with these folks?

Just because we have lost 100+/reversed T2 does not mean we are ready or able to help someone else with their journey.

No matter how badly we may want to. No matter how much others want us to be able to help them.

Hearing this insight being repeated from others in various stages of their journeys, was hugely interesting to me.  I was struggling with this very issue. I saw my lack of being able to handle the pressure of it all as a serious character flaw.

They helped me begin to see it for what it was; just another part of the process.

I’m still learning how to thrive and survive and maintain in this new world I’m building.

I mean – c’mon… I’m new to this!

I spent 42 years obese, sedentary and making really poor food choices.  I was a freaking expert at living an unhealthy life.

I’ve only been learning and living this new healthy life for 4 short years.

The truth is that I was routinely getting overwhelmed by the fact that even though I’ve been IN this journey; I couldn’t answer all of their questions, I couldn’t help everyone find (or stay on) their own path and I couldn’t fully support other people emotionally on their own journeys.

I’m one person who’s still trying to figure out her own life.

It’s really an impossible equation, yet one I was trying to own and live up to whole-heartedly.

Last year two of my good friends talked bluntly with me about setting boundaries. In their own ways they said they were watching me struggle, quite inelegantly and painfully, with trying to be counselor/coach/cheerleader/emotional support for a cadre of people near and far.

And they could see it was hurting me.

‘Bets, have you thought about the fact that you could likely ‘drown’ while trying to help someone else?’

They were hard, good conversations.

I’m not a crier.

There were plenty of tears as I really tried to accept what they were telling me and then figure out what I was going to do about it all… I mean – I KNOW I was put on this planet to help people.

Know that for a fact.

Yet, they were telling me a very basic truth…

If I’m not focused and actively working on being healthy and whole and stable; What good can I possibly do for anyone else?

As I continue to figure out what I need, how I feel, what makes me feel strong and what I really struggle with — I keep working on boundaries.

Not the kind of boundaries that cut me off from the world and box me in.  That’s not at all the goal.

I’m working on living/healthy boundaries that protect and nourish and help me feel safe enough to take some bigger, stronger steps. The kind of boundaries that will ultimately allow me to help others and stay on my feet (running!) for years to come.

IMG_6855-web
Testing boundaries in trail & ultra running.

Jogging my memory…

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 3 Comments
pjSpz4bibCqM5neDxb39Cv9yQ5c5h_IhiQ6ldtL4JIk
I’m so blessed I was given the chance to change….

I’m in Ontario, Oregon for work today.

(I have the best job on the planet.)

My work takes me to the far (and fascinating!) corners of Oregon from time to time. One of those corners is Ontario… This fiercely proud and hard-working town is right on the Idaho Border. Literally on the border; I can see a mile down the road, and that’s Idaho.

Driving into town last night, I got off the freeway in the wrong spot.  I just wasn’t paying attention. In turning around I realized I was in the parking lot of the hotel that I first stayed in when I was over here for work ten years ago.

I am always over here in July.  Ontario is… uh… warm this time of year.  Yesterday was 114.  Ten years ago it was 102.

Do you think it’s odd that I would remember the temperature from ten years ago?  (If you know me – you know I can barely remember what I wore yesterday, let alone details from months or years ago.)

But I do remember.  Here’s why…

Ten years ago I weighed at least 200 pounds more than I do today.  I remember my trip here well…

It ended in an ER.

I was diagnosed with heat exhaustion /borderline heat stroke.  My core temperature got to 102, I was throwing up, dizzy, having horrible leg cramps, had stopped sweating, had chills, wasn’t coherent and my nose wouldn’t stop bleeding.  My blood sugar was off the charts and would remain off the charts for weeks after this episode.

The hotel manager offered to call an ambulance when they saw me stumbling in from my car through the lobby at the end of the day. I promised I would promptly drive myself to the hospital and I turned around and got back in my car.  At least that’s how they told me the story unfolded the next day.

I remember being in the ER, hooked to an IV, being wrapped in sheets that were wet and cold and packed in ice from head to toe.  I had spent all day out in the sun, wearing a hat, seeking shade and drinking water — I was not entirely sure why things spiraled so out of control…  I thought I was being appropriately careful.

The nurses seemed to know what the problem was…

The nurses comments as they were taking care of me were along the lines of ‘this is usually what we see in the elderly, but when you are this obese; the heat isn’t going to treat you kindly…’

They remarked at the time that my core temperature matched the outside temperature. THAT’S why I remember it was 102 degrees.

And no.  That health threat and those comments STILL weren’t enough to launch a lifestyle shift.  It would be another six years before I got my act together.

I had honestly forgotten about the heat exhaustion episode — until I pulled in that hotel driveway last night.

I drove away from that hotel thinking about how I am in such a different spot. Such a better spot.

I spent most of yesterday evening thinking about just how different my life is from that first visit from ten years ago…

I used to HATE to sweat.  Avoided it at ALL costs.   I felt like sweat was tattle-tell proof of the fact that I was fat and that even a basic effort like walking across the room was work for my body.  Yesterday morning before heading for the airport I grabbed a few miles on my favorite local trail.  Soaking in the sunshine and views, working up a sweat and thinking about how lucky I am to be able to run.

My entire diet was fast food or ‘this is their local specialty’ or ‘I’m on vacation so calories don’t really count.’   I packed and carried all of my own food this trip so I wasn’t stuck without a healthy option. (Or an excuse…)  It’s summer!  Fruits and veggies are insanely good right now!

Sour Patch Kids and Doritos vs. almonds, an apple and some Hood River cherries.

I lived on diet coke and diet Dr. Pepper.  By the gallon. No joke. Totally hydrated on water with lemon from my Nalgene that I tote everywhere.  (Again, no excuses…)

I had to have a hotel with a fridge to keep my insulin cool.  Now I’m worried about keeping my coconut water chilled. 🙂

I drove my own car over because I knew I wouldn’t fit in an airplane seat on the small commuter jet and I didn’t want to have to tell anyone that was what I was afraid of….  This time around I flew and fit perfectly in my seat, with no seat-belt extender.

Last time I weighed 390ish pounds.  This time I weigh 165ish pounds.

**I still love my job — that much has NOT changed. 🙂

The comparing and contrasting could continue, but I think you get the general picture…

A decade can make a world of difference. 🙂

What a ride…

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 5 Comments

248231_10150320004126258_5696017_nThe adventure of my life these past four years is kind of unbelievable. And even though I lived every single moment of it… It still doesn’t seem entirely real to me.

It’s been four years, July 2, since I woke up knowing I had to change my life.  Literally and figuratively. I woke up with a feeling of fierce and yet total determination. I didn’t have any idea HOW to get it done; I just knew I had to get it done…

What did I have to ‘get done’?

Most of you know my story… I was 392 pounds at my heaviest.  Type 2 diabetic, insulin-dependent, morbidly obese.  I woke up on July 2 and decided that I no longer wanted to be ‘the walking dead’.  Just getting by in life was no longer acceptable. I wanted to LIVE my life.  I didn’t want to take shots.  I didn’t want to be T2 diabetic.  I didn’t want to be morbidly obese.

LUCKY for me; these were medical issues that I had a chance at possibly changing.  A long-shot with terrible odds; but a shot none-the-less.

For some reason, life was handing me the gift of an open door AND the clarity to see it. I understood on some level that I was being one last chance to build a different life than the one I had been living.

I walked through the open door.  And I am not going back.

Without a doubt, it has been the wildest, messiest, craziest adventure of my life. Very little has gone exactly as planned.  Yet; I’ve wound up exactly where I am supposed to be.

I started to reflect on how to distill all 1,460 days of this incredible journey down into a worthwhile thought or two…

What have I learned? 

What would I want someone to know was important to me?

What matters to me now that I’m in the daily process of practicing and cementing all of these  lifestyle changes?

After some serious miles of running and thinking/contemplating/reflecting these past few weeks there is one thought that keeps running (pun totally intended!) through my brain pretty much non-stop…

‘Be stubborn about your goals, but flexible about your methods.’ — Anon

Even with solid, life-goals right out in front of me to stay focused on, I’m also learning to embrace that the paths leading to those life-goals are very, very much like the twisty, unpredictable and beloved trails that I am learning to love to run…

(I LOVE the symbolism. 🙂 Not gonna lie.)

I love that the trails I run can serve as a constant reminder for me to stay focused forward, looking ahead.  And yet they also serve to remind me to appreciate the texture and detours and bumps in the road of the journey.

July 4th is the celebration of our Country’s birthday and Independence.

And I see July 2nd as MY very own personal independence day.IMG_7002-web