Exercise

Cruise.

~ betsyhartley392 ~ Leave a comment
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392ish pounds on the left, 190ish pounds on the right.

‘Travel far enough, you meet yourself.’ — Cloud Atlas

I am leaving for a 16 day cruise.

Like…  I’m in the Portland airport and waiting for my plane to board.

This cruise is for work.  (I know, I know. I’m LUCKY and I really do have a great job!)

It’s a freaking once-in-a-lifetime-dream trip on a luxury cruise ship! Where do I get to go?!  From Florida through the Panama Canal and up to San Francisco with stops in 7 AMAZING countries and ports!  I am so lucky and truly honored that they would entrust me to represent our university and work with a bunch of adventure-seeking alumni.  I want to make the most of this opportunity!

So, I’m sitting at the airport and waiting for my flight to board.

And I’m fighting some anxiety. I have been for a few months.

I love travel and adventure and meeting new people and seeing new places.  That’s not at all what this particular anxiety is about…

This cruise is going to be an extended test of every piece of my lifestyle that I have worked so hard to cement, embrace and put in place.  It’s seriously shaking up my carefully crafted, intentional routine.

There will be unlimited, gourmet food.  No set routines.  I’ll be ‘unplugged’ for 16 days.

Did I mention the unlimited food?

Sounds like a version of heaven-on-earth that most of us dream of — right?!

I’m not entirely sure as I get ready to board the plane. I’m a little scared about this adventure.  But I think I’ve done my best to prepare.

This is really my first big trip since losing weight, reversing Type 2 Diabetes, learning to run and adopting a plant-based lifestyle.

I can’t help but compare the old/new me from time to time. In getting ready for this adventure I noticed a few really, really cool things about my new life:

  • I didn’t have to worry about packing insulin, needles, prescriptions bottles.
  • I got to buy a 2 piece bathing suit. (Polka dots!)
  • My running shoes were the very first thing given space in my suitcase.
  • I bought a sexy little cocktail dress that’s uncharacteristically daring for me.
  • I won’t be needing the seat belt extender on the plane. 🙂

When the advertising pieces for this luxury cruise were sent out there was a lot of emphasis on the food, french pastries, buffets, restaurants, eating…

So of course, as a former 400-pounder, that’s what I’ve been worried about for the last four months.

My former self would have CHERISHED this opportunity to gorge, indulge, over-eat, have food be a central focus, try ALL the new foods with NO EXCUSES needed.

I have spent the last few months making sure ‘that girl’ doesn’t show up on this trip.  She’s not invited. She’s not part of my life anymore. I know she lurks in the shadows at times, sometimes she sneaks back in beside me and I have to remind her to go away. 

I knew this would be a test. A really solid opportunity for me to see how all of these changes in my life can work when I’m out of my carefully crafted routine.

They told me I had been selected to go on this cruise.  And…

First, I panicked. (Hey. I’m human. This process of embracing a radically different lifestyle is NOT linear, as much as I would love it to be. How would my ‘new’ life work in this environment?)

Second, we reached out immediately and put a food plan in place with the boat. They know I eat plant based. They wrote me a really cool note telling me they were thrilled to be preparing food just for me.

Third, I have spent weeks reaching out to a handful of friends and asking for their support, encouragement, ideas. I got just what I wanted and needed from these wonderful souls because, well, I have amazing friends.

Here were their best advice and reminders…

  • One meal at a time. That’s all I have to focus on. Make one smart food choice at a time.
  • BE MINDFUL. Think about the food you choose to eat and make sure — each time — that it aligns with the goals you have for your life off of the boat.
  • BE PRESENT. Relax.  Enjoy.  LIVE.  Embrace the adventure. This is NOT just about food… Don’t make it all about food.
  • Stick to an activity plan, but get creative and USE the boat, new friends and the port visits to keep moving.
  • Journal and track your food. Those tools work for you, and they’re totally portable. 🙂

I’m boarding the plane and headed for the boat.

The trip of a lifetime.

I’ve packed and prepared and I think I am as ready for the adventure as I can be with good advice and a fabulous new polka dot bathing suit.

I’m ready to put this all to the test and see what new things I learn about myself in the process.

Bon Voyage!

 

 

 

Breakthrough.

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 3 Comments

IMG_6855-webI ran downhill Thursday night.

Not my normal, guarded, stiff-legged bounce that I have used for the last three years when running downhill.

I flew.

And no, it was NOT a dream.

I ran an entire mile at a 7:32 pace. For me — that’s fast!

HOLY SMOKES was it an amazing, unreal feeling to be flying down the hill on my own two legs!

I felt strong, solid, happy.  And well… I’ve never quite felt like that in all the running I have done up to this point.

I felt capable and confident. Those two words don’t get used a lot when I’m thinking about/talking about my own running.

Thursday night?  I nailed the downhill portion that I was working on.

All the pieces came together.  And something really important just finally clicked into place…

Back up for just one moment…  When I first started running it was simply about getting one foot in front of the other more than a few times in a row.  Like — very literally — the width of a driveway.  That was how I started my running career.  I was a walker, not a runner.  I was just dabbling with the idea of running and not sure I was even going to like it.  So I didn’t tell anyone I was trying to learn to run just in case I tried it and hated it.  Then I wouldn’t have to explain it to anyone. 🙂

Some days putting one foot in front of the other is still very much the goal.

But I am to a point with running where I want to work on some specific techniques, and learn some new skills. I am working on the parts/pieces/things that are going to help me keep running for years to come. The things that will help me avoid injury, run faster, run longer.

This is the really FUN stuff to be learning.

This is the hard work that I don’t mind doing.

Spencer and I were running off of McCullough Peak Thursday night. Spencer was running with me and he said we should work on some downhill running.

I have a short, choppy, guarded gait.  Especially on the downhill.  I’m kinda/sorta afraid/terrified of falling on my face. My gait shows that I’m guarding with every single footfall.

I tend to hit the ground and use my legs as shock absorbers — NOT springs.

I should be using them as springs.

‘Running downhill is not really running, it’s more of a controlled fall.’ — Spencer

Spencer and I have been working on my downhill technique/skills/abilities for close to year. Last year in May at the Western States Training camp in California we realized that I really didn’t know how to run downhill very well.  We’ve been working on it ever since.

Spencer has tried all kinds of things to help me learn to run more smoothly, efficiently and comfortably downhill.  We have talked about cadence, gait, stride – we have worked on core strength and building all the right muscles. All the things that I should be focused on to help make my downhill running (running in general) better.

So why was this run different?

I don’t really know how to explain it except that the words Spencer said clicked and something FINALLY made sense.

For a split second my legs understood what my brain seemed to refuse to comprehend.

And then you know that moment when your brain gives a big sigh of relief because you finally, finally understand something with perfect clarity?

This was one of those moments.

We were running downhill.  Me short/choppy, jabbing kinds of strides and Spencer says ‘open up your hips’.

I asked him what exactly that meant.

Spencer says try running from your hips, not just from your legs.

I did.

Those words made sense to me…

I took a few more steps that were short, stiff. Then I tried striding out with my hips ‘open’. My glutes were engaged in the whole process (hello butt!).  It was very suddenly NO LONGER just about my legs and knees…

All of the sudden I was really moving comfortably down the hill.  Faster, efficiently, with my legs more springy.

It. Was. Amazing.

I felt really strong and confident and fluid.

I was mostly keeping up with Spencer on the downhill, which NEVER, ever happens. 🙂

I ran for about .75 of a mile with keen attention to keeping my hips open and running from my hips.  And that .75 of a mile was fast!

I can only imagine some of Spencer’s frustration/elation/satisfaction given that THIS is what he has been trying to get me to do for about, oh… 8 months now.

That night, for some reason, the words and directions he gave me while we were running downhill FINALLY made sense to me.

Everything clicked.

And I ran.

And I felt like a freaking powerful runner for the first time in a long time.

Actually, maybe, I finally felt like a powerful runner for the very first time.

It just felt so damn good to fly down the hill with confidence.

*Coach’s note from Spencer:

The most impressive part to this .75 mile stretch was the fact that Betsy finished the last .25 mile at a 6:15 pace. The fastest I have ever seen her run, ever, is right around an 8 minute pace on downhill. 

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I just want to be normal.

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 6 Comments

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I went on a group trail run this past week.

I had a meltdown.

This trail running group is welcoming and they encourage anyone to join them.  I know the individuals who go to this run are fast and strong and experienced.  I went into this run — which I had honestly been artfully, purposefully dodging for over a year — with trepidation.

‘Can I keep up?’

‘Was I fit enough?’ 

The answer turned out to be no.

I couldn’t really keep up.

I got dropped on the first set of hills.

I spent the next 90 minutes or so wishing I had not gotten momentarily, stupidly brave and decided that I would give this a try. I spent the time listening to some shitty voices in my head about being slow and worthless and a burden.  I was questioning my fitness and training.

I spent the entire run DREADING the moment I would be the last one to arrive to the top of the trail, last to the top of the hill, last one back to the parking lot where everyone was waiting for me.

Emotional shitstorm is the best phrase I can think of to explain what happened.

I felt like I was in over my head.  I was embarrassed at being the last up the hill. I was beating the crap out of myself instead of enjoying the company, the scenery and the privilege of spending some time running on a glorious early Spring Oregon night in the Mac Forest.

Spencer reminded me multiple times on the car ride home that all of the other runners are only worried about their run. They were NOT thinking about me at all.  Let alone were they thinking I was worthless, or a burden or that having to wait for me meant anything other than we follow a code of trail running that makes sure everyone who goes out on a run comes back in.

No judgement, only safety.

Intellectually I get that.

This whole meltdown is about my self confidence in the world of running.

This is about trusting the process that I am working through in establishing this still-new-to-me lifestyle of plant based eating, running and maintaining my weight loss. I run with some baggage.

This group had to wait for me in three places.

There is nothing that embarrasses me quicker, or more completely these days than having a group of runners wait for me.

Within about 15 minutes of a 90+ minute run I was flustered, negative and quiet. I thought seriously about asking Spencer to give me the keys to the car and I would just wait in the car.  BUT having to explain to Spencer, let alone the rest of the people standing around waiting for me at the trailhead  that I was quitting because I felt like I was in over my head seemed like a far worse option than just gutting out the run.

We got done with the run.  Everyone was waiting in the parking lot for me to work my way off the hill.  I made quick good byes.  Spencer and I jumped in the car to head home.  I wasn’t going to tell Spencer anything. I was embarrassed. I didn’t really have the words to tell him what was going on.

But we know each other pretty well at this point.

And I suck at poker.

I lost it and attempted to tell him what I had been feeling the entire run.  What I said among some other personal and strongly worded, emotionally laden, harshly worded self-judgmental  crappola was ‘I HATE BEING LAST! I’m so %^$&ing SLOW…’

I was attempting to process it all, through the debilitating fog of shame and embarrassment.

Why were the voices zinging around in my head so freaking nasty…?

 

I went for a run today and I got some really good thinking time in.

I kept thinking about how disproportionate my reaction was to the reality of the situation.

WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME?  And why is having a group of fellow-runners, friends waiting for me such a trigger?

By the time I got home from running today I had narrowed down part of what I was sure was really eating at me…

I needed to talk to Spencer about it.

‘Spencer. I think all of this stems from me just wanting to be normal. And not be in a spotlight for at least once in my life.’ 

 

I lost 220 pounds,  I reversed Type 2 Diabetes. BIG things — I get that.  Visibly shocking even and most people reply with disbelief.  I can’t hide my weight loss and changed body.

But what I have FINALLY figured out about ME…?  I reclaimed my health and lost weight  in large part to try to become ‘normal‘…  I’ve never really been ‘normal’ at any point in my life that I can remember.

I just want to be NORMAL.

I want to be able to fit in an airplane seat.  Buy clothes anywhere, anytime.  I don’t want to need medicine. I really don’t want people to notice me personally for any reason unless I wanted to speak up, wear funky clothes or do something that warranted attention.

I really, really just want to be normal for the first time in my life.

Honest.

Running is a big part of that normal equation for me. Even though I pick really long distances which most people don’t understand — it’s all a critical part of helping me reach a ‘normal’, healthy, sustainable life.

I was telling Spencer that when you are the LAST person in on a run; you have everyone’s attention. Casually, fleetingly, non-judgementally.  BUT for that split second you are the focus of attention.  And in my mind — since I’m last it’s hinging on my body, my weight, my ability, my fitness — and I feel incredibly vulnerable.  If I were thinner, faster, a better runner – they wouldn’t be waiting for me.

It’s a fierce, instant trigger for me. 

And now I think I’m beginning to understand why.

Running has become my most beloved tool, my safe haven in this lifestyle process that is constantly changing.  It’s the place where I get to be me.  ALL of me. No one else but me.  Where I get to build me into the person I want to be. No one else can do the work, take the credit or see the rewards.

Running is about a whole lot more than just the physical act of running.

 

I have told Spencer, as a coach and now as my friend and business partner, that I want to get faster, be a stronger runner.  He was asking me – in light of all of this – if that goal has changed.

No… The goal has not changed, but I was finally able to but some words around WHY I want to run faster.

I don’t want to be faster to beat anyone. I don’t care about getting on a podium.  It isn’t to shorten a race or spend less time running.  It isn’t to be seen as a better athlete/person/runner.

I want to run faster so I can beat the race cutoffs and finish a race when everyone else in the middle of the pack finishes.  I want to be faster so I’m not the last person across the finish line. So I’m not the last person to the top of the hill.  So I’m running so ‘normally’ no one is noticing me.

Regardless of my motivation — the goal remains the same.  The work I have to do to get there — well… That remains the same too.

It took some serious mental gymnastics to come to the conclusion that what I really want in ALL of this is just to be NORMAL…

As Spencer reminds me all the time…  THIS is all part of the process.

I just want to be normal.

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What if I just give up..?

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 2 Comments
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First 10 K, 4 years ago.  The work was just beginning.

I look back on some of my early journal entries from this lifestyle make-over and wonder how in the hell I made it to today.

Honestly.

Why didn’t I just quit?  

It was brutally hard at times.

I get the ‘How did you not give up?’  question perhaps more than any other single question.

I don’t have a good answer.

 

I mean, I had quit every other time I tried to lose weight and start exercising.

I am really succeeding for the first time.

Check out these journal entries…

1/10/2012: ‘I tried step aerobics class.  I didn’t understand the routines and can’t physically keep up. Stood behind my ‘step’ and marched in place for 45 minutes. Drenched in sweat, red-faced and couldn’t breathe from working so hard. It was humiliating. I walked out to my car crying. I feel ashamed and embarrassed.’

The very next day…

1/11/2012: ‘Today is the first day of circuit weights. I’m 5 hours post-lifting and I am so sore I can’t lift my arms. I could only do about 1/5 of the workout. Maybe less. I can’t bend, my fat belly is yet AGAIN in the way. Everyone in there has been doing this for years and I’m intimidated to hell and back.’

HOW and why did I keep going?

Why didn’t I just go back to my old, comfortable, easy ways?

My journal posts those kind of sad, too-honest, desperate entries, then the following weeks I’m only documenting glucose readings, weight, noting that my appetite is through the roof.

There is curiously nothing else about the aerobics,  weights classes, walking or learning to run.

Nothing.

When I do get asked how I kept going when things were tough, I usually answer with something basic, but true:

I wanted my life to be different.

I was tired of being sick and tired and I was ready to do the work.

Those sound like platitudes or motivational quotes. Those were really, truly how I FELT.  Fiercely, totally, with my whole heart. I was NOT giving up this time no matter how hard it got.

I knew there was a different life that could be mine.

I had promised myself I would do what I had to do this time around to get healthy, get fit – create a whole new ‘lifestyle‘. This time around was NOT yet another a one-fix wonder, a silver bullet, a starvation plan.  I – the chronically impatient – KNEW I had to be patient this time around because I was trying to exchange prescription drugs for food and exercise.

I HAD to invest the time and effort to build something I could keep and do for the rest of my life.

When I think about it, even before I committed to trying to change my lifestyle — I was often hungry, sore and defeated because I was fat, sick and totally out of shape.  I mean, I was taking 3 shots a day, handfuls of prescription meds and I was carrying anywhere from 100-220 pounds of extra weight most of my adult life.  That takes a substantial amount of WORK.

So really the whole ‘hungry, tired and sore’ thing hadn’t changed.  It was no longer a valid excuse for me to be using.

I think my brain and my heart recognized the equation of wanting to fight for healthy and that needing to find a long-term, permanent solution was the only way to make this work.

The little fire in my soul that was SCREAMING ‘things can be so, so, so different for you if you would just work at it!’ was what I was choosing to listen to this time around… I could finally hear it loud and clear.

The biggest of the mysteries for me that remains in this whole adventure is why that little voice — smothered for so, so long —  was finally what I was choosing to listen to, what I was focused on…

My journals intrigue me.

They confirm that I’m crappy at journaling. They’re frustratingly incomplete.

By my 2013 journal they’re full of race bibs, happy benchmarks and lots of running related notes.

I’m not sure when that switch occurred.

Personal details about that critical interlude are just simply missing from my journals entirely.

I wish I would have taken better notes or written more descriptions so that I could tell people ‘THIS is what I felt, how I did it, why I kept going…’  But I don’t have any of that information collected. And do not remember most of those details.  Perhaps I blocked them out because things were that hard OR more likely — they felt profound enough at the time I figured I would never forget and I didn’t bother to write them down…

I’ll be writing stuff down a little more carefully from now on. 🙂

 

I would hazard a pretty good guess that the reason I kept going was that my motivation – the reason driving all the changes – was so, so different than any other time in my life.

This lifestyle change was not a reaction to someone’s opinion of what I should weigh/eat/do.

This was entirely about finding health and life.

This had nothing to with a number on the scale or a size of dress.  And EVERYTHING to do with getting free from Type 2 Diabetes before it was too late.

This time I was carefully and systematically searching for the things I would needed to make this a lasting lifestyle.

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This is how I feel about life. 🙂  No words needed.

Remember the moment…

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 6 Comments

 

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Wendie snapped this pic about two seconds after I clicked ‘YES, I really, really, REALLY want to register for the Mountain Lakes 100 miler!’  This captures the moment, the feelings perfectly.

‘Write a note to yourself while you are so excited. In those rare, fleeting or dark moments when you aren’t excited, you’re exhausted or you feel scared or unsure about what you have just signed up to do, you can look back and read the words, your very own words, and remember this moment…  

Remember the ‘why’.’ – Peg Herring 

Peg is my mentor and friend who at the same time also said…

‘I do not understand what you have chosen to do. Not at all. But you need to know that I support you 100%.  You can do anything you set out to do.’

So, here’s the note I wrote to myself. 🙂

 

Bets,

You just signed up for the Mountain Lakes 100 mile race.

Now you get to spend the next eight months training for it! Then on September 24th you get to freaking toe the line!

You are wholeheartedly, bone-deep, excited!  Giddy even. You spent the week walking around grinning ear-to-ear. You have gone to bed each night happy and very much at peace with the decision to embark on this wild adventure.

Josh Gum planted the idea in your head to run a 100 miler about three years ago. He introduced you to the idea of ultras and endurance sports. (‘You don’t have to go fast, you just can’t give up…’) The idea that you might be able to run 100 miles, you, Bets, – the former morbidly obese girl, Type 2 Diabetic, the girl who swore she hated running – this idea, has become an obsession, a deep-seated desire.

Since the day the seed was planted, you have been wondering, dreaming, becoming focused on the idea that maybe, just maybe, you might have it in your heart and soul (and legs) to actually run something obnoxiously, audaciously, fantastically long; like a 100 miler.

The last three years you have been dedicated to learning the art and sport of running. And while you’re just barely getting started, that hasn’t stopped you from totally falling in love with trail running in the process.  Falling in love with all of it.  The people, the sport, the experiences, the miles, the challenge.

Every single thing about trail running appeals to you, speaks to you, heals and nourishes and strengthens your soul.

You have also learned that this life adventure with trail running is not just about running.

This whole process of getting ready for and tackling a 100 miler is really about wondering if you have the fortitude and ability to take a really big, scary goal and then TACKLE it, own it, beat it…

This is about putting your hard-fought lifestyle changes to the test.

This is about getting stronger.  Brain and body.

This is about really LIVING your life.

You spent your 20’s and into your early 40’s as a 392 pound, morbidly obese, Type 2 diabetic.

You were ALWAYS saying to yourself;  I…

‘… can’t run.’

‘… can’t do that.’

‘… am too fat to do that.’

‘… am pretty sure that would hurt…’

‘…am too old.’

Here’s the kicker…

How can you really hate/deny/be fearful of something you have never done?

Be honest with yourself Bets. You had never gone running.  You weren’t eating healthy. You weren’t being active. You weren’t doing anything long enough to form an actual, honest-to-goodness opinion of your own.

You were just accepting the passive opinions about your abilities and limitations based on ASSumptions. (We all know what word features prominently in ASSumption.)

Well…

You are done assuming.

This effort will require you to give your very best on every, single, possible level. It will test everything you think you are made of. And you have been told/warned/not-so-gently-reminded by people you love, trust and respect that this is going to test things you never knew were going to be tested, never dreamed you would encounter.

This will change you.

‘It’s going to be an experience that will change you in ways that will surprise you.’  — Josh Gum

You are ready for that testing.

Not just on race day, but you are ready for the testing that you know occurs every step of the way during the training process too.

Gaining new distances, building your core/back, learning to fuel, endless practice running down hills, even more endless practice with speed work, running uphills, power hiking.

You want to hit that start line for Mountain Lakes KNOWING that you kept putting in your best effort every single time you put on your running shoes.

If you commit 100% to the training, on race day you can put all of that together and enjoy the magic that happens when hard work and a heartfelt goal start racing in the same direction.

You did not just sign up for this on a whim.

You have been tenacious, intentional and consistent in working up to a fitness level where you feel wholeheartedly ready to train for and do your first 100 miler. You spoke with Spencer at length about what you wanted to do more than two years ago.

With guidance from both Spencer and Josh, you decided you had the perfect race in your sights and you picked Mountain Lakes for your first 100 miler.

You know you can do this.

Spencer says you are ready to train to run 100 miler.

Team Gum (Josh and Wendie) have said they know you are up to the task and will support you 100%.

That’s all the validation you wanted or needed to eagerly hit the ‘sign me up now!’ button.

Now go throw your heart and feet onto the trails and get training for this sucker.

 

So when and if the times get dark or scary or daunting, I will look back on this note and remember what I was thinking and feeling.

I will also be reminded that this is not just about running.

It has never, ever been entirely about running.

This whole, amazing adventure is about something much, much bigger. It’s about owning and chasing down a dream. It’s about believing in myself. It’s about intentionally choosing to push into new, scary territory. It’s about living life to the fullest each and every single day.

 

 

Giving the Sharps container the boot…

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 3 Comments

2012 on February 3rd I took my last shot of insulin.

And I’ve lived a whole other lifetime in that time. A lifetime I never thought I would have. So grateful for each and every day…

Facebook, February 4, 2013.

I am type 2 diabetic.  Most of you know that.  I’m not exactly reserved and shy about it. 🙂 I am a type-2 diabetic which means my body makes insulin. Plenty of it actually.  Through years of abuse, I’ve messed up the receptors that recognize insulin and know how to use it.  (Think about trying to use a baseball glove to catch a soccer ball…  Just doesn’t work very well…) And it was MY OWN DAMN DOING.  Type-2 diabetes is by and large considered a lifestyle disease. There are rare exceptions to be sure.  But I was not.  I made poor lifestyle choices.  I ate too much. Ate things that weren’t solid choices for my health situation.  And I loathed sweating and exercising.

My feet hit the floor in July 2011 and I decided I was done.  D. O. N. E.  Done with needles and shots and doctors and monthly blood tests and being fat and being unhealthy and slowly, but very, VERY surely killing myself.

Done.

It has been a journey and an adventure and the hardest work of my LIFE! And it will continue to be a fight all the remaining days of my life. I am not out of the woods. I am not done. There are still hurdles. That’s OK – I’m up for the fight.

Tonight is a bit of a celebration for me — indulge me for a moment…

Tonight is ONE YEAR since I took my last shot of insulin. 

A year ago started what was to become a mass exodus from prescriptions drugs that is ALMOST complete. One drug left to exit.  I was taking 72 units of Lantus, 2 other injections, 5 other drugs to regulate sugars and other attendant issues with out of control sugars/diabetic issues in May 2011.  But there is only ONE drug left to quit. And that day is near. 🙂  Focused on being totally medicine free by early 2014. (I was meds free by May 2014, just for the record!)

Tomorrow is the one year anniversary of being shot/needle/sharps container/supplemental insulin/shot-in-the-belly FREE.  WOO HOO!   And no… I am not celebrating by eating a piece of cake. Tempting. But not tempting enough… I’ll probably celebrate with a big ol’ cold Honeycrisp apple. 🙂

A lot has changed in the 18 months since I started on this journey.  I worked closely with my doctor. Shared my plans.  She sometimes agreed – sometimes re-directed.  We worked on decreasing the insulin in small increments weekly over many months.  It was NOT a fast process, but slow and steady (and truthfully terrifying – as staying off of the drugs relies TOTALLY on my maintaining serious lifestyle changes. I am trading food and activity for drugs.)… I track all my food. I relied on advice/reader boards on the American Diabetes Association website for help with specific issues and food challenges.  I  continue to be surrounded by family and friends who cheered me on EVERY single, tiring, painful step of the way…  I was never, ever alone.

My doc said in her 25 years of practicing medicine she has had two patients work their way off substantial meds without surgical intervention. Several times she has had to research our next step – since this isn’t something she has practice in working with…  Kind of cool to be the challenging patient in a GOOD way.

Will I be able to stay off of insulin for the rest of my life?  No.  Not likely.  Research indicates that diabetes will re-emerge again at some point. But the longer I can go without insulin, the longer I can stay with TIGHT self-control on blood sugars, the longer I can go without causing collateral harm to my eyes/heart/kidneys/heart — the better for me!

I bought myself a hat from the Life Is Good store in Maui while I was there for the marathon a few weeks ago… It has a picture of Earth with the words  “Happy to be here”.

I am just happy, really happy, to be here.

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The Diabetes Walk in Portland. The Gum’s and about 25 other friends were there with me!  It was a magical day! This was a celebration of me getting off of Insulin. Our shirts said ‘All Bets are off’. 🙂  Hence the name of my blog…

Curls. A funny thing happened…

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 6 Comments

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Passport. 🙂 2003 (Close to 400 pounds, I think…)  and 2013 (close to 200 pounds).

A lot of things happened all at once when I was getting close to getting off of injectable insulin…

I was working hard — single-minded focus kind of hard — to get off of insulin and other meds.  Nothing else mattered.  I wanted off insulin.

I was losing weight. I had discovered walking and weight lifting. My diet was getting cleaned up, stronger, healthier by the day.  All of this was helping me wean off of insulin.

I was experiencing glucose highs/lows like crazy as my body was working frantically to adjust to the diminishing supply that I was injecting daily.  I could FEEL my body working to take over an injection-free life.

It was an amazing time!

It was at this point that I began to realize and understand that I was changing my LIFE, not just sticking it out with a diet. I was finally beginning to own the idea of this being my new lifestyle. 

I was outright trading PRESCRIPTIONS for FOOD/ACTIVITY.

 

This past weekend I was in a conversation with someone I was meeting for the first time. He and I had very similar wild/crazy/uncontrollable hair and we were laughing about it. He was talking about the life-long struggle, I admitted that my curls were fairly new.

Natural, but new…

I shared with him that one of the most noticeable and perhaps panic-inducing moments of getting off of insulin involved my hair…

If you have only known me in the past 3+ years, you might be puzzling over the fact that my hair is decidedly NOT straight.

My wild mop is pretty much a way folks recognize me these days.

So how did I get curly hair?

 

I quit taking injectable insulin in February of 2012, by early June of 2012 my hair was falling out.

Most of it fell out one morning in the shower.

I never thought I was vain about my hair. Still amazing to me how I suddenly became pretty damn connected to my head of hair when it was falling out and I had no idea why…

So get this…

Turns out that insulin, which I was injecting 72 units a day for Type 2 Diabetes, is a hormone.

When you quit taking it; combined with shifting your entire lifestyle to try to get your body to accept that you want your OWN insulin/glucose receptors to kick back in and take back over…?

Well…

Turns out your hormones are just a wee-bit out of whack. Your hormones are not even remotely stable and they’re fighting hard to normalize.

Apparently, shedding hair can be one response to this ‘sudden’ hormonal shift.

Who knew?!!

Here’s how it went down…

 

I went for a run.  I was in the shower washing my hair and went to rinse my hair and looked at my hands…

Huh.

That seems like a lot of hair.

BUT — it’s Spring.  Maybe I’m just shedding hair because it’s getting warm. 

Ran my hands through my hair again to rinse my hair.  The hair was so thick on my hands I could barely see the skin of my hands.

Panic is starting to surface.  But it can’t REALLY be that much hair — right? — maybe I’ve just never really paid attention to how much hair I lose daily… This is probably normal…

Repeat a third time.

Crap. That is a LOT of hair. Is that ALL of my hair?! DO I have any left?

Get out of the shower. Towel dry my hair.  Lots of hair in the towel…

Look in the mirror.

Panic.  Full blown, breath-stealing, hot-tear inducing panic.

I called my Doctor.

Doc… ‘This is a possible side effect to going off of insulin – which you have been on for years. It’s fairly rare.  It’s totally benign. You are fine and healthy.  Your hair will grow back. It might be a little different color or texture as it grows back in.’

Me… ‘Swell.  Uh… WAS SOMEONE GOING TO TELL ME THIS AT SOME POINT AND TIME?!!’…

Doc… *laughter* ‘Bets.  In 20+ years of practicing medicine you are one of two of my patients that have successfully reversed Type 2 and gotten OFF OF insulin.  The other patient was a bald male. *laughter* ‘I didn’t know what to tell you to expect.  It will grow back. Find some cute hats.’

Me… *Digging in my room for a hat.  Any hat. Frantically texting my sister and friends for a phone number for a hair stylist.  ANY hair stylist… *

I went from wavy/straight hair to absurdly CURLY hair almost literally overnight.

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Hannah and I.  My hair was just starting to grow back in, around 4+/- months of consistent grow out at this point . Big earrings and bright lipstick were key distractions while my hair was growing back. 🙂

I have lost a bunch of weight, reversed type 2 diabetes and found running…  And even when I look at pictures from that timeframe and see the weight coming off, or the race pictures where I know I was learning to run…

I am reminded how my hair is probably the one, single thing that best shows the changes and tells the story of my new life. 🙂

 

FIRE! (And shutting up…)

~ betsyhartley392 ~ Leave a comment

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One of the most generous listeners I know of, my friend Jennifer. 🙂 And one of the first ones to help me get a handle on the goal that was looming in front of me…

I had a conversation the other day that helped me re-ignite a fire…

A fire I had forgotten about.

And it took me screwing up and self-correcting to finally get to the right spot.

Here’s what happened earlier this week…

 

I met with a woman I don’t know very well. She reached out to me because she has just been given a Type 2 diabetes diagnosis. She said she felt she had a triple digit amount of weight to lose. She doesn’t know where to start.

She asked me to tell her how I lost weight and reversed Type 2 diabetes. She said she wanted to hear my story.

I was trying to find the right words to help her understand a few things about what I had encountered that I thought might be specifically helpful to her. I was trying to explain that my journey was not linear.  It was not easy, nor over.

The trade offs were life changing in every possible, positive way immaginable.

I explained that I remembered the day I mentally understood that I was trading medicine prescribed in a pill bottle and syringe for MEDICINE in the form of healthy, nutrient dense foods.

I remembered when I finally understood I was trading a lifetime of being lazy, inactive and comfortable for a new lease on life that would make me wildly uncomfortable and have me running in the woods and facing exhilarating fears head on.

I understood I was in the life-long process of building a whole new lifestyle.

I wanted her to understand that with every fiber of my being, I had become willing to trade certain death with Type 2 diabetes for a chance at what I knew could be a life worth living out loud, fiercely and completely each day.

So I’m in this conversation with this woman and I have this intense energy building in my head and chest to try to help her understand ME and my journey…

Yet I can see that I am failing in trying to help her understand that the power to save her own life lies in her own hands… I could see that she was overwhelmed with the task that was stretching out in front of her.

And then it FINALLY registered through my thick skull what it was I was actually seeing, feeling and experiencing with her…

My story, combined with her own journey winding out in front of her were BOTH scaring her.

A lot.

Beyond the tears, the averted eyes and bowed head — there was just fear.   I could see it. She was trying hard to hide it.  But it was too bag, too pervasive, too consuming.

I felt like I had to stop and re-group. For both of us.

I pulled out my best imitation of my ‘Wendie’ breathing techniques.

I stopped.  Mid-sentence, mid-story.  Sat up straight.  Made solid eye contact and then I just took a few deep breaths. 

DEEP, loud, intentional.  That habit has become soothing for me in times of distress.  When my friend Wendie Gum breathes that way — she can calm everyone around her…  She can calm an entire freaking room of people.  I have seen it happen.  For real.

I was trying to steal just a bit of her magic. And hoping it would work to help me figure out how to put this conversation back on the right path.

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Wendie and Bets. 🙂  

And then I did something that’s hard for me to do.

Really hard.

I shut the hell up.

AND I started to listen to the silence.

I had been right to stop talking.

The silence was really, really tense and full.

So I just kept breathing.

I tried to convey to her, simply with my breathing and my eyes, that I could and would wait for her, WITH HER, in the fear and overwhelm.

I would willingly sit there ready to listen and just be with her for as long as she needed me to be there…  I wanted her to know that struggling with emotions and words was safe and OK and warranted and healthy between us.

And then I waited for HER to fill the silence.

And she did.

Eventually.

And I let her talk, cry and grapple for words.

Which is what I should have done from the very beginning…

See, I have a fire burning in my heart and soul.  I want everyone to catch the passion to CHANGE what’s broken in their lives.  And to be fired up.  And to be excited by the challenges in front of them.

I fundamentally understand that it has to be their OWN fire.  I can’t tend it, can’t light it and have no right to even share in the warmth.

This conversation proved to be a perfect reminder for me. Spencer (coach) is always reminding me to respect, trust and work the process.

Well… It turns out that I really needed the reminder to RESPECT THAT PROCESS for others.

It’s NOT my process. Not my fire. Not my opportunity.

It. Is. Theirs.

And it was also a great reminder that I wasn’t always fired up and ready to take on the world. I sat there staring at her and could suddenly remember when I was terrified.  And ashamed.  And overwhelmed.

I could see me sitting across the table.

I remembered when I just wanted someone to listen. And understand. And not judge me. And maybe say something that I’d never heard before that I thought might just be POSSIBLE…

I was there in a similar, fire-less pit for a very long time.  Too long.

And while I wanted someone to light the fire for me…  I really just needed someone to listen and understand.

When that happened? THAT is when things finally caught fire for me.

I really want to be the person I so desperately NEEDED when I started on this journey.

The fire I have is really NOT to tell my story.

The fire I have in my soul is to HELP other people…

This week I was reminded that people don’t need to hear my story, they just need me to care about THEIR story.

Could listening actually ignite a fire?

 

 

 

Yoga. (Second chances…)

~ betsyhartley392 ~ Leave a comment

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So let me tell you about my first yoga class…

I tried yoga about 8 years ago.

One time.

It was because I was on all kinds of meds with high blood pressure and was told it would be good for me and would reduce stress. I was also a full blown T2 diabetic and they were anxious to get me moving.  ANY kind of movement. They said yoga would be ‘gentle’ and an ‘easy place to start’.

I’ll be honest…

I grudgingly and resentfully went to the yoga class to get my doctor off my back.

I was around 300 pounds. It took EVERYTHING  in me to put on spandex pants and go to the class.

I spent the entire 45 minutes HUMILIATED.  Everything had to be adjusted or accommodated for me and my bulk and my inflexability.  Every move it seemed, the instructor was calling me out and correcting me. I was not only horribly inflexible, I was also trying to silently fight my belly fat rolls that were totally getting in my way and impeding my ability to breathe.

I hated it.

Every.  Freaking. Minute.

I left the class and proceeded to spend the next 5-6 years telling everyone how horrible, useless yoga was.

So fast forward to about 2.5 years ago.

I’m now reasonably fit, getting healthier. Working really hard to establish and love some healthy lifestyle patterns around food, exercise, my body. I’m really getting into trail running and openly aiming for an ultra.

I was complaining to my friend Kris about being inflexible.

Kris asks me to go to a yoga class with him.

He said the flexibility yoga could give me would help my running.

I reminded him that I hated yoga.

He supports me on this lifestyle journey 100% – running with me, eating my kinds of foods, listening, going to races, lifting weights… 🙂   I hesitate to accept his invitation ONLY because it’s yoga that we’re talking about….

I trust Kris. Entirely. He didn’t have to work too hard to wheedle out of me that the reason I hated it was because I’d tried it ONCE.  One time, long ago, when I was morbidly obese and I still very much burned with shame over the whole freaking experience.  I told him everything.

He promised he would go with me, that he knew the instructor and she was great. The class was small.

He said I would enjoy it.

He promised to do everything he could to help me feel comfortable.

So I put on my big girl panties.  Yoga mats in hand… We went.

Kris had to talk me through what to wear, what to bring and what to expect. Multiple times. And he knew I was still really nervous about it all.

But I have to say, as thorough as he was, he forgot ONE KEY instruction…

I didn’t know this was about being QUIET and not TALKING.

Somehow the whole idea of yoga and meditation being quiet had totally escaped me…

I mean c’mon… I’m an extrovert.  I love social gatherings. I figured if we were all suffering to contort our bodies into these weird poses that we should be encouraging each other and sharing in the misery.

And let’s face it. I’m still just a little scarred from the previous experience.

It started off great.  I was actually starting to feel comfortable.

About 15 minutes into the class, the instructor begins to guide us into a pose that seemed physically impossible…

Sit up straight, relaxed and cross your legs.  Gently place the tops of your feet on your opposite thigh…

I said loudly and clearly, making defiant eye contact with the instructor…

‘THAT is NOT going to happen.’

Of course everyone looks at me.

Total alarm spreads throughout the very quiet room that I’d dared to speak out loud.  Loudly, out loud.

The instructor just smiled at me.

I am guessing that Kris is somewhere between embarrassed and mortified at this point.  He’s giving me the unmistakable SHUT UP look and the whisper/shushing that friends who know each other well engage in.

And I am now totally choosing to ignore him.

I said at least two more times…

‘What?!  Really?  That’s just NOT going to happen…’

At this point the instructor leaves the front of the room to walk over to try to help me.

Kris has lost his pose and composure and is now sitting on his mat, staring at me and openly trying to figure out how to help me.

The instructor pretty quickly, with just a few soft words, helped me find a good modification.

She kept smiling at me; like a GENUINE, whole face smile… Not irritation masked with barred teeth.  Looking back; I am guessing that Kris MUST have warned her about my history.

I calmed down.

I tried the next pose… with success. 🙂

I got quiet again.

I would bet at this point that Kris’s blood pressure and heart rate probably dropped exponentially. 🙂

At the end of the class the instructor even said she hoped I would come back. To another class. With another instructor. 🙂

I talked with Kris afterward and finally understood…  Quiet.  This is all supposed to be quiet.

What can I say… I’m a slow learner. 🙂

I have branched out and tried other yoga classes over the last two years.  And much to my shock and surprise, I have actually gotten to where I enjoy it immensely as long as I make the time and stay in a regular yoga practice.

So what happened to Kris?  Kris moved out of state and never went to yoga with me again. 🙂

OK… OK… I’m kidding. The truth is that Kris got his PhD about a month after the yoga incident and promptly got an amazing job on the East Coast. He now lives and runs and practices yoga in Tennessee. 🙂

Namaste.

DREAMS and perspective.

~ betsyhartley392 ~ Leave a comment

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I am not a journaling kind of girl.

Yet, for some odd reason, when I started this lifestyle journey more than four years ago; I felt strongly compelled to start writing things down.

I had no road map and I KNEW I was headed somewhere totally new.  So I followed my gut feeling and started writing in a journal.

These books are deeply personal and have become cherished time capsules of my adventures. They also happen to be largely a chaotic mess and perfectly inconsistent. 🙂

They were never written or designed for anyone else to see…

Race bibs crookedly taped in. Notes people have lovingly written to me stuck in random pages. Cryptic and short hand notes about blood sugar readings and countdowns of units of insulin scratched in the margins.  Reminders to stay focused. Indications I was elated, terrified, frustrated.  LOTS of numbers; weight, blood sugar, insulin units, running paces. Pictures taped in that SHOW my story.

I am not a fan of spending a lot of time looking back. Having said that, sometimes you really do need a dose of perspective.  A solid reminder, from your own point of view, of all the work you’ve done, all the good that’s happened, how hard you’ve fought for progress or change.

Collectively these journals remind me how excruciatingly small, but critical, some of the steps really were.

 

These pages also remind me that I was intent – from the very beginning – on building a new lifestyle. A sustainable lifestyle.

This was never about a diet. Or about losing weight. Or even about running.

This was always about trying to find health and LIFE and learning to be in love with being active.

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‘Going to stop Lantus (insulin) and see what it does…’  I was down to 2 units, from a high of 72 units daily.  A LOT of work went into that single sentence. 🙂

I feel oddly grounded with these books in my hands and my eyes on their pages.

They contain my dreams and goals and hopes and wild longings…

  • I want to run. On trails. Actually, I want to be fit enough to do anything active if I’m lucky enough to be invited.

  • I want to wear normal sized clothes.  Cute, fun, sexy, NORMAL sized clothes.

  • I want to learn to eat only when I’m physically hungry and my body is asking me for healthy food.

  • I want to be alive and healthy to watch my nephews grow up.

  • I want to reverse type 2 diabetes.  

My journals never mocked or hesitated or questioned or doubted. They never shot down my goals with reality. 🙂

My journal pages have captured my thoughts and emotions and hopes.

And I am so, so glad that I have them.

The gift of perspective is priceless.

Do you keep a journal?!!

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