When I was 250+ pounds I used to wear my underwear backwards.
I had a pretty funny flash back to this forgotten and semi-embarrassing fact this morning running with my friend Carlea.
Last year I bought some running tights on super-sale from some obscure running site. I do this periodically. I get wonky, weird, off-season, running clothes bargains. Once in a great while I find something amazing! It’s all super cheap and a fun, daring, fashion-themed shopping-game of adventure.
This time around it was colorful running tights super cheap.
I show up to meet my friend Carlea at the Saddle for a run. I wore the screaming-hot-pink tights today for the first time. They… uh… were built weird. But they were really cute! I told Carlea I figured I would get used to how they fit as we ran. (Always a bad idea. Running clothes/shoes really shouldn’t need a break-in period… But in the face of cute/fun clothes; I always forget this ‘trail rule’.)
How weird was the fit? There was a ton of extra fabric in the front/crotch area and they were what we will politely call ‘plunging low rise’ in the back. So I kept fidgeting with the stupid tights trying to keep them up over my butt.
We finally stopped about 3 miles in while I tried to figure out how to remedy the situation and keep running without flashing everyone in the forest. Carlea and I got to laughing — fairly sure I had to have the tights on backwards. We checked. Nope. But, they sure seemed to be built backwards.
‘I think I figured out why they were on sale’.– Me. Every time.
We got things sorted out and PG-rated for the rest of the run. I got to chuckling. I finally told Carlea that these tights were reminding me of a habit I had when I was obese. I had kind of forgotten about it.
I have always loved the idea of having matching bra/panties. I just do. When I was obese and desperately wanted to feel good about how I looked and wanted to feel attractive – this duo always did the trick. Cute undies was a near-daily goal. When I was wearing a size 26/28 the options were limited. Or ridiculous. Or really, seriously functional; steel belted bras with really wide straps, scratchy/ugly lace and cotton granny panties.
I finally, after years of searching and failed attempts, found a bra and undies set that matched and FIT and was cute. I was so freaking excited! I wore them all day at a conference, felt like a million bucks and was thinking I needed to go out and buy the dang undies in every color they made. As I got undressed at the end of the day…
I discovered that I had in fact worn the underwear backwards all day.
They fit perfectly, totally ass-backwards.
Huh.
Why had they fit so well you might be wondering? Well…. I was close to 400 pounds. And I was built very much like an apple with all my weight in my belly. With a really flat butt. My belly was significantly larger than my butt. So undies are typically cut to cover your bum and lay flat on your belly – right? They didn’t work for me and my apple-shape.
But wearing them backwards worked for my body…
Disney with the family. And yes… I am about 99% sure I have my underwear on backwards in this picture. 🙂
So for about 10 years I pretty much always wore my underwear – cute or otherwise – backwards. A problem accidentally and creatively semi-solved. I never admitted it to anyone, never advertised it. But wasn’t proud of it by any stretch.
I was just too fat and misshapen to wear underwear normally…
So I adapted to what worked for me at that time.
So today Carlea and I were laughing over yet another clothing failure I snagged from a clearance rack.
I have lost weight and had the full-body lift surgery to remove 10 pounds of excess skin from my belly/waist. While I am still built a little funny at my waist with some skin scarring and bumpy surgical ‘seams’ at the sides of my hips — I now have a pretty typical ‘runners’ butt and fairly flat belly.
NOW I can totally wear matching bras/undies if I want to – without having to wear them backwards. 🙂 (I just have to remember to pack them in my gym bag. 🙂 )
Turns out that even putting my underwear on can serve a daily reminder of how my healthy lifestyle now is so different than my Type 2 diabetic/obese days.
Carlea and I both had a really good laugh as I shared this story with her.
I managed to get back to my car and not accidentally show my bum off on the trail.
Today anyway. 🙂
*Screaming-hot-pink running tights are now free to a good home.
I trained for the Zion 100 miler. This past Friday/Saturday I ran 75ish miles of the race.
On their official race list I am what they call a ‘DNF’. Did Not Finish. It means that I toed the start line and never crossed the official finish line.
But life isn’t really about finish lines right..?
It’s about the journey.
It’s about living the dash.
It’s about learning and growing and moving and loving — not just about arriving.
This was a vivid and forceful reminder that I need to spend more time and effort just enjoying the journey.
Hannah, Matt, Spence. So many sappy, heart-felt emotions when thinking about these 3 souls.
I have no idea who the quote or idea is truly attributed to – but it’s common advice given to those embarking on these monster events that you run the first 1/3 with your legs, the second 1/3 with your brain and the third 1/3 with your heart.
I think I used a lot more heart this time.
While you can run these buggers unassisted, I live for the moments when I can see my crew and meet new friends. This sport, for me, is the ultimate team effort.
I am proud of what I did, how I raced, problem-solved and stayed calm. I am also proud of how I accepted the results when it became painfully obvious halfway down Gooseberry Mesa that we couldn’t make the cutoff to the next aid station.
I didn’t cross the finish line, but I won big in some very important ways.
The terrain was tough and there were some challenges. It’s an ultra and if you aren’t ready for tough or challenges or fear or pain or being humbled — um… You have likely picked the wrong sport.
Examples?
I reached an aid station that had run out of water, as I had, during the heat of the day. I got lost navigating around on some of the endless slick rock in the daylight. Got lost again with my trail sister/pacer Hannah on the rim of another mesa about 1 AM along with about 5 other people; and Hannah saved us all with her quick legs and sharp mind. I started getting hot spots on my feet — that would turn to blisters — around mile 3 of the race. There were fierce gusting winds that almost blew me over and I weighed close to 190 pounds on race day.
I want to share, in random order, some of the things this ultra schooled me on…
Mile 53. So excited to see crew. I got to pick up my pacer Hannah, I would no longer be running alone in the dark.
76 miles is still a long freaking way to run.
Running a race in smaller segments, mentally, is the ticket for me. Thank you Andrew and Spencer for that racing trick. I raced 13 mini-races, within one single race. My strategy was to get from aid station to aid station and then focus on the best strategy to get to the next aid station.
Cactus are assholes of the plant world.
Coke is amazing, soul-saving liquid when you’re racing. Followed closely by watermelon with salt, pickles, cheese quesadillas. BUT not all together. Especially the pickles and coke. That was a mistake.
If you are pooping in the middle of the desert and following trail etiquette by being off course 100 feet or more, facing your bum away from your fellow approaching runners…. It does NOT mean that an entire pack of mountain bikers won’t come right up behind you. Literally. They, nor I, will ever be the same for the experience.
My brain is my biggest enemy. I have to stay alert to her shenanigans. She can be cranky, sneaky, mean. They only person ever doubting my ability to do this race, was me. Not Spencer, Hannah or Matt. Or any of my beloved running friends. Or any of the bazillion kind souls who sent texts, called, emailed, FB’ed me… Just my brain. And I am getting better and better at shutting that crap down, ignoring it or re-directing my thinking. So much better.
*Sap alert*. We are better people when we have strong, smart, caring, loving friends in our life. We just are. We might have one or two or fifty. Number doesn’t matter, quality does. Friends. That’s what this is all about for me.
I trained hard, raced well, fought hard, dug deep, did all the right things that I knew to do. Our crew was spectacular. And I can honestly say the results were better than the belt buckle I thought I was chasing… This course taught me some crazy cool lessons about what I’m doing right and where I can get stronger if I choose to commit to the work. I didn’t get injured. I live to train and race another day. This race was a win on so many levels.
I fought my head hard for the first 35 miles. Around mile three we had hit a narrow segment on the steep single track that required about a 20 minute slow down. Ok. Actually it was a total stop; stood in line on the face of a mesa and chatted with my new friends. (We had a rope assist up a chunk of the trail that all 250(?) of us were waiting to use… One at a time.) And we had the same traffic jam on the way back off the Flying Monkey Mesa. For those who race — you’re doing the math… Yeah. When you are up against time cut offs from the start line, like I am… That bottle-neck took AWAY any of the margin I was planning and working to build. By mile 3 I was already in head games about cutoffs and not having any breathing space in my race plan. It hit me HARD. By mile 3 of this race I was seriously thinking I needed to just quit and was already fighting off tears. GOOD LORD. My head had a list of reasons why I should just quit and stop for just about every step of the first 35 miles of the course. I KNOW that when you get in a ‘low’ (moment of fear or doubt or apathy) you KEEP MOVING. So I kept moving according to plan while I fought with my pissed off brain. Getting that far behind that early in the race was a serious mental road block that I battled for 12+ hours. But I didn’t quit… I did NOT QUIT and this right here is probably my biggest win of the race… Because all I wanted to do was quit. And I didn’t.
When a near-by runner tells you they feel like they’re going to throw-up, trust their judgement and get out of the way.
When something starts to nag at you — take care of it the best you can because it’s only going to be magnified with miles. Take the moment and fix it. So… I was getting blisters by mile 3. In the past I would have kept going figuring I didn’t have the time to spare and I could manage the pain. Spencer and I actually talked about this pre-race; he reminded me that as crew they would make the call and I was to go along with their call if they were working in my best interest. The example he actually used was about shoes and correcting whatever was wrong with them at the first point I noticed them. I’m notorious for trying to ignore the nagging — when it’s something FIXABLE and have created some bad situations for myself and my feet. THIS TIME I think I shocked Spencer when I cruised into mile 15 and asked to stop, change socks and shoes. While blisters were kind of my downfall at the end of the day, I KNOW FOR CERTAIN I bought a hell of a lot more mileage by trying to take care of things early — when they presented themselves. BIG lesson for this mop-top trail runner in patience and paying attention to what my body is telling me can be fixed.
You can sunburn the back of your knees.
Putting on lip balm in a dust storm is just a dumb idea.
Ice in your water pack/bladder, when it’s warm out is a straight up gift from the heavens.
Peeing when the wind is gusting and swirling is just… interesting… And I’m not the only one who struggled with this little practical joke from Mother Nature. (Same goes for snot rockets.) It was actually funny to watch the guys dancing around and trying to outsmart the wind. We girls… Uh… We’re not quite so flexible or lucky. I had some serious penis-envy going during the wind storm.
‘Fear is what you’re feeling. Brave is what you’re doing.’
Barreling into an aid station and hearing your friends yelling for you is the sweetest of all sounds in my world… (Sappy again…)
Barreling into an aid station and seeing the faces of two other runners you know and love and who you did NOT expect to see jumping in to hug your smelly ass and help you without any fanfare or hesitation… One of several mental snapshots I will have the rest of my life. (Thank you Rebecca and Ben!)
Mental snapshots? Climbing Gooseberry Mesa. Wicked steep climb. (1.5 miles and 1,500 foot of vertical gain…) I was struggling up that biotch of a climb and bombing down is our friend Ty Atwater. He yells my name and must have seen the tears, dirt – and possibly vomit at this point – on my face. He was on his way back down and headed for the finish line and would be top 25 for the 100K… He stops, hugs me and reminds me to breathe and tells me quickly to climb, stop, breathe, repeat and keep repeating until I get to the top. Deep gratitude for this young, talented runner taking the time to stop and comfort me. Another mental snapshot I’ll keep close to my heart for years to come.
I managed my pre-race nerves and taper craziness WAY better. I think it was meditation, better nutrition, focusing on time with friends and simply knowing that you can’t know everything about what’s in front of you. And that’s the beauty and magic and secret of these events. I was afraid and nervous no doubt and apologies to anyone caught in the taper cross-hairs! But not terrified like I was heading into Mountain Lakes. I wanted this finish line as badly as I wanted Mountain Lakes, understand that my hearts desire to do well was exactly the same. But the fear was more a deep and wide level of respect for this distance and the challenge instead of stark terror of the unknown.
Spare headlamp. ALWAYS pack the spare headlamp.
Double shot espresso at 4 am is like liquid gold.
Brushing your teeth after the race feels the best.
Showering after the race is where you discover all the chafe and sunburn you didn’t know you had.
Speaking of showering… There is NO SMELL on earth like that of an ultra runner. We should bottle it up. It would sell. Maybe. Maybe not. Ok… Forget that whole idea. Who are we kidding? Spencer and Matt wrapped me in a blanket and rolled the windows down on the car on the ride back to our house. And then I was ordered straight into the shower – clothes and all. And handed a garbage bag to put my clothes in. HA!
Walking off the course. (Spencer, Hannah. Picture Credit goes to Matt.)
I walked off the course, instead of across the finish line. This was a long road to walk, but I walked it with friends by my side. Hannah was with me when I broke down and understood meeting the cutoff was not going to happen despite every single thing she and Spencer and Matt had done to get me there. Spencer and Matt walked up the road to meet us not knowing what they would find… I cried. A lot. I was crushed by the idea that I was disappointing my crew and hadn’t done what I set out to do. They hugged me a lot. And then we walked, as a tribe, back to the car.
This picture means the world to me because of the people in it and the friend who is out of the frame capturing the moment for all of us to remember…
Since I have some free time on my hands at the moment, I figured this was as good a time as any to try to explain some of the running things I talk about non-stop — for my non-running friends.
Actually, this idea was prompted when I said something this weekend about tapering to a work-related friend. It was met with a blank, confused stare. And they finally said ‘I don’t get it.’
I then tried to explain.
I thought this information might be helpful to some of those close to ANY runner or athlete as the taper crazies for Spring events start to set in… You’ll know to simply smile/nod, tell them they are going to crush their goals because of all their hard work, and walk away.
For real.
That is a legit plan for encountering someone who starts the conversation off by warning you that they are tapering…
Getting ready for an event is a process. A long, hard, complicated process that requires dedication and focus and committment. The more I do and watch and get to be a part of these events the more I realize just how hard everyone works to chase down these crazy dreams.
It involves plans for training, logging the actual miles, learning new skills, maybe some study or practice on the course, racing plans, recruiting crew, running in all kinds of weather, even planning for your rest/recovery.
I’m sure I am still forgetting a bunch of stuff that has to happen to get to the start line.
The idea behind tapering is essentially ‘fueling up the car and getting it ready for the road trip.’ You’ve trained, practiced, have everything packed, memorized directions, have your race plan laid out….
Take a quick break (taper) and hit the road (race)!
I’m still really new to this sport. But, in watching my friends and other local runners — there are clearly some defined styles and personalities that emerge during the taper…
There’s militant, precision taperers. 🙂 They follow the letter of the law.
There’s nervous taperers. They fear they’re losing fitness, they’ll sleep through the start line, they second guess their training, every twinge or ache or twitch is an impending disaster that will keep them from racing.
There’s casual taperers. My friend Wade. “Eh… I think I should probably taper here soon. Maybe. What do you think?’ ‘When’s the race Wadeo?’ ‘I think it’s in two weeks, maybe three. No. Two. Let me check…’
There’s the ‘I earned this and I’m going to enjoy it’ taperers. They hit yoga, meet up with friends, sleep in, have dinner out and just enjoy the down time from logging miles to catch up on life.
The mean little sister in this group would be angry taperer. ‘I hate this. This is stupid.’ Snappy, cranky, ill-humored. Ask them a question and get handed your head. They’ll comply, but they’ll be pissed about it.
There’s fighters. ‘I don’t need to taper.’ ‘Tapering doesn’t work.’ ‘I can run well on tired legs.’
There’s fake taperers. ‘I AM TAPERING…’ ** Said while running long miles, fast workouts, logging mileage JUST short of normal, hoping to not get called out on their non-tapering/taper…**
And I’m sure I’m missing a bunch of other types. 🙂
I’m personally a cross between precision, I like following plans and rules. Especially if I know it works for me or someone I trust. And I have enough experience to know now that rest helps my body and gets my mind antsy enough to want to push hard on race day. Tapering is a good thing for me – even if I deny it in the moment. 🙂
And I’m also really, really good at being a nervous taperer. And just to keep things really interesting for the folks around me I throw in 10-15 minutes surprise sessions of being an angry taperer. Oh and if it’s a really long taper — a little whining and insecurity in panicked moments that make no sense to any witnesses — JUST to keep things fun and exciting for my running friends.
And my poor roommate. 🙂
It’s taper time for me.
Zion 100 miler is in 10 days depending on how you count.
And whole bunch of my friends are tapering too!
FUN TIMES! 😉
We’ve all busted our rear-ends, we’re ready to go, we’re excited — and we’re a little jealous of our non-tapering friends.
Just being honest.
Ok. Really? Totally jealous. Somedays I can’t even look at social media when I’m ‘resting’ and they’re frolicking in the FIRST days of sunshine we’ve had here in Oregon since like 2002. I find myself wishing there was ‘fear of missing out’ button on Facebook or a feature to block anything running related so I can pretend everyone else is tapering too.
There’s also some distinct seasons in the running community as well. As distinct as ‘school’ or ‘Football’ season. And it has nothing to do with the weather for most of us. We run in all kinds of weather… 🙂
There’s the training period where we’re all getting ready for races and looking for partners who will leg out the crazy long/weird/specific runs/adventures/schemes we have planned. Rebuilding our base. Learning new skills. Making new friends. The frenzy of running to meet the goals you set while you were recovering or tapering or had a moment of weakness and signed up for a race. 🙂
There’s race season — where we’re all on TOTALLY different schedules. And we’re tapering, missing out, cranky, excited, joyous, determined, recovering, volunteering, running long miles. We’re all over the map – and trying to keep up with all of our friends race/event schedules is a full time job! We want to wish all of them success every time they race — which is basically every weekend between now and October. So.Many.GOOD.Events. So many!
There’s recovery season. Where we take a break, re-group, plan. For some they grab other sports to work on. For some this period is a day. 🙂 For some this is a month, 3 months or longer. It is simply marked down-time, letting the body and mind recover. Waiting for that ‘itch’ to run to creep back in and around the edges and signal that you’re ready to start training and building again.
And of course — none of us are training, racing or recovering at the same time. 🙂
If you have a runner/racer/cyclist/triathlete in your life and they’re getting ready for a big event…
Just be patient with your dream-chasing, goal-crushing friends.
Tapering is a critical part of the training/resting/recovery/racing process. And it really is mentally difficult to work so hard and then simply shut everything down, ‘sit on your butt’ (that’s what it feels like) and let your body get ready to FLY.
Smile/nod patiently, tell them they are going to crush their goals because of all their hard work, and if you really want make their day — ask how you can track their race and cheer them on. 🙂
Is that my hair or a bush? You decide. 🙂 (PC C. Stephens)
I love trail and ultra running. The people, the challenges, the community, the support.
Soul-enriching, strength and character building beyond anything I have ever done or been involved with in my life. It’s saved and changed my life in ways I can barely begin to describe. I hold those random, bubbly, precious feelings near and dear and tightly in my heart.
While deeply satisfying and challenging, I will be the first to admit that it is really not a very glamorous sport.
If you’ve run trails or ultras you’ll feel this list is missing something. (Tell me what you would add!)
If you have not run trails or an ultra you might be wondering… Just how not-glamorous can this possibly be?
Well…
Pooping in the woods, snot rockets, chafe, sweat and mud and dirt. Blisters. Missing toenails. Black toenails. Sunburn in the oddest of patterns and places. Did I mention chafing? Squatting in poison oak. Headlamp batteries dying and leaving you in the dark at 4 AM. Hallucinations, scabbed knees, puking, smelling like a yeti, digestive issues, swamp-ass.
🙂
I know I’m missing some critically UN-glamorous, probably hilarious, things.
But you get the idea.
Some of you are totally horrified and wondering what on earth there is to possibly love about this sport. You’ll just have to trust me. The thrill of covering a whole lot of miles, seeing country I would never see any other way, supported by amazing people and the challenge of pushing myself well beyond the normal boundaries…
It’s all worth it.
Every bit of it.
I feel strong and bad ass and challenged and alive.
It’s worth ALL of it.
Some of the best ultra-runners in the world wear skirts when they run. The woman are strong, talented and fearless. And they’re wearing these practical and comfortable and cute skirts. Win, win, win. It’s as close to glamorous as we’re going to get in this sport. I always wanted to try to pull off that look. Except that I am a larger size than the elites. And having lost 200+ pounds; well, my upper thighs need a little more care and coverage than most peoples. I simply need a longer inseam in the built-in shorts than is typically offered to help prevent the aforementioned chafing.
I searched high and low and experimented with all kinds of product lines for well over two years. I want to look cute in race pictures. (Ego!) I also want to respect the spaces I’m running in, special spaces that are wildly scenic. Kind of like dressing up for a party, I like to dress ‘up’ out of respect for the place I’m visiting and running in.
And let’s face it… I don’t need to spend each run looking like I’m wearing whatever doesn’t smell and like I dressed in the dark with whatever garments I could put my hands on.
Then I found this active dress company out of Seattle…
And our local running store, Running Princess, sold the dresses.
I saw one. Bought it. Ran in it the next day.
I kind of fell in love with their dresses.
I wear my own compression shorts under it – and WA LA!
Checking out the horizon. Staring at the far off Gooseberry Mesa that I’ll be climbing in about 20 days during the Zion 100 miler. (PC C. Stephens)
I finally had the running dress/skirt I’d been searching for for over two years!
And there’s one additional and really vital thing about them that has become increasingly important to me…
They support active women of all sizes.
Legitimately.
ALL sizes.
Some companies say they do. This company does it in their branding, marketing, size offerings, event support. I know. I watched and looked and snooped around to see if this was JUST their clever marketing niche, or if they really meant it.
Their commitment to active women of all sizes is at their core — and it’s obvious. As someone who was starting to be active and painfully stood out EVEN MORE than I already was at 300ish pounds in my boxy cotton T’s and ‘big and tall’ men’s shorts from Walmart…
I instantly felt a surge of gratitude and compassion for this company’s approach to helping woman feel strong and pretty and confident while being active… No matter their size.
And now a days, I’m 180ish pound, about a size 12-14. I find really cute active clothes and sometimes at my current weight and fitness I still don’t fit in their largest offering. I can run a 100 miler, but they don’t make clothes that fit me. Huh. Their message is clear and frustrating to me. ‘We don’t want larger women who are active being seen as our customers or brand ambassadors.’ OK…. Maybe that is not their intended message at all. However, that’s certainly what I hear LOUD AND CLEAR.
Spencer and I were having a conversation about a running team that I am on. Last year after some consideration and a wild dose of courage, I applied and got accepted. I never expected a yes. It was totally a thrilling moment for this former 400-pound, non-active woman to be invited to join a running team! I was over the moon. It is a group of women across the country that are all tied to a clothing line by their love of running. I was expressing to Spencer that I was not sure how much longer I would stay on the team after a year of being on it. He suggested perhaps I hadn’t given it enough effort, hadn’t worked to reach out and meet some of my fellow teammates. I finally said that I never felt like I fit in. They only offer up to size 12 in clothing and I can only fit in a select few of their ‘looser fit’ garments on a good day.
The racing singlet they give you for being on their team barely fits over my boobs and so I have never even worn it to represent them when I run. I won’t wear it in public.
It’s great, high quality and fun clothing line for some woman, and while I respect and loved the community of supportive women, the clothes just don’t work for me. And perhaps more importantly, their clothing is not an option for the women I am trying to reach, work with and encourage who are learning to love being active and themselves wear sizes 12 – 30.
I told Spencer that I was in a spot with my running and health and with our business, Novo Veritas, that I was truly interested in finding companies that I could suggest and endorse that embraced the idea that active woman come in all sizes.
I want to find companies, events and products that back up OUR brand with theirs; they show support and exhibit the understanding that woman are fierce, bad ass, healthy in all sizes.
Women (and men, let’s be fair!) kick ass, conquer mountains, battle fears and chase down dreams in ALL shapes and sizes.
I told Spencer that I wanted to intentionally throw my support behind those endeavors that recognize active, adventure-seeking, healthy people of all shapes and sizes.
And then I found this dress.
But it turns out to not even really be about the dress. It was more about finding a company and a community that support me and all of the other women I know so we can go out and do daring and bad ass things.
No matter what it may be. No matter our size. 🙂
What daring and bad ass things are YOU up to?!
‘Clothes aren’t going to change the world, the women who wear them will. ‘ – Anne Klein.
Perched on the edge of the monolith that is Angels Landing, Zion National Park. Pictured with Cary Stephens. Cary is an accomplished ultra runner who bravely and patiently spent the weekend legging out the mileage with me that I needed in my last big training block.
For me there is a rush in facing off against a fear.
There is a rush, a feeling fully alive moment, a thrill. Maybe it is just INTENSE relief when you are safely on the other side of your fears. But there is no denying that you ‘feel’ something big and profound and unforgettable as you dive head first into something you are afraid of.
And get to the other side.
I never thought I was afraid of heights.
I have a healthy respect for heights. Or more accurately, a healthy fear of falling. I can go to the top of tall buildings and enjoy the view, climbs ladders and scramble onto the rooftop, ride a Ferris wheel, run (carefully) along a mountainside with a cliff on one edge. I’ve always figured I wasn’t really afraid of heights.
This weekend I was doing one of my last training blocks for a race. I met up with a friend in Southern Utah who had volunteered to play trail guide and preview part of the course with me. We took one day away from the course and ran in Zion National Park.
JAW DROPPING!
Holy smokes is that place stunning!
Eloquent orators and authors have carefully picked the perfect words to attempt to describe this amazing spot. I ran out of good words really fast. I mostly stopped and uttered ‘wow! ‘about a 1,000 times. 🙂 Sheer walls, views in all directions and colors and shapes that simply don’t seem to belong together in nature. Yet are entirely nature in all her perfect glory.
There’s a hike to a popular spot called Angels Landing.
My friend Cary and I opted to go in to Zion National Park and hit two of their big climbs in the same day. Observation Point and Angels Landing. At the end of the day we had over 24ish miles and about 5,000 feet of vertical. (GPS doesn’t work well in those rock canyons so the vertical is a close guess.)
It was an incredible training day!
Here’s a shortened/edited version of their description to park visitors about Angels Landing:
‘The Angels Landing Trail is one of the most famous and thrilling hikes in the national park system. Zion’s pride and joy runs along a narrow rock fin with dizzying drop-offs on both sides. The trail culminates at a lofty perch, boasting magnificent views in every direction… Narrow ridges with deep chasms on each of its flanks. Hikers pull themselves up by chains. The last half-mile is across a narrow sandstone ridge, anchored with support chains attached along some sections of the sheer, narrow fin.’
I read that and went ‘AMAZING! Let’s go! I have to see this!’
We hiked and ran Observation Point (wow!) and then headed over to Angels Landing. We climbed for about 3 miles up switchbacks and fairly smooth, well-traveled, but steep and stunningly scenic terrain. We get all the way to the top where it narrows down to go out on the ‘fin’ and it is at this point that the words I read earlier began to get real…
It really is a little, thin, bony, spiny back of a fin from one monolith top to another. With anchored chains. Like… The ‘fin’ is not even ONE PERSON wide in some spots. There are rock chasms you have to shimmy though to higher ledges. More narrow than the opening of an typical escalator — with a 1,500 foot drop to the canyon floor on either side if you miss a step.
I did a lot of self-coaching on that fin.
A lot.
I ended the day with a re-defined respect for heights.
You use this anchored chain to hold on at the super narrow parts. It turns out I man-handled every single link on every single yard of that chain for the .5 mile out and the .5 mile back. I was terrified to let go of that chain. I did really graceful and elegant things like plopping down on my butt and schooching with my body stretched out on the ground toward the next chain post to hook my foot for safety. I groped total strangers who wouldn’t let go of the chain, while I was focused on doing the same… NOT LETTING GO of that damn chain while still trying to keep moving. It’s sandstone – and super ‘sticky’. You have GREAT traction on your feet in the dry weather.
No matter. Didn’t care how good the footing was. I was terrified for a full mile — which took an hour — to get out to that landing and back.
There are some small chasms within this fin that you have to basically shimmy into for a bit and then climb up, out and over.
Enter the OLD fear that I did not expect to encounter… Real-life, experience-based fear of being the fat girl who can’t ‘fit’ in something. (A chair, a car, a doorway, a freaking-rock-chasm-on-top-of-a-rock-monoltih.)
Beyond being afraid of the dizzying heights I had several paralyzing moments where I looked at the width of the opening in the rocks, the narrowness of the passage with two people on a ‘ledge’ and thought ‘I AM NOT GOING TO FIT.’
Actually the thought in my head was…
‘HOLY CRAP. I am NOT going to fit, I’m too fat. I’m going to get my fat ass stuck in (not ON) this rock, block traffic, have to be rescued and cut out of a cliff and ruin a National Monument…’
The chasms were tall, narrow and you eventually have to work yourself up and over the chasm to the next layer of ledge. There were points of narrowness where someone larger than a healthy weight wouldn’t fit. They just wouldn’t. I saw it play out several times in the span of about .25 of a mile.
I’m balancing what I see happening to others with the messages firing from my brain who still sees me as 400 pounds at this moment in time.
I am well aware that once upon a time I would have been the women that would have had to turn around before the summit because I wouldn’t have fit on that trail.
Deep breath.
Check in on THAT moment and the reality in front of me and only that.
Push the fear aside and stare down the facts…
I fit!
And bonus? I have upper body strength to hoist myself up to the ledge (thank you Jordan, strength coach!)
Repeat. 🙂
I climbed that fin, shimmied up chasms, walked out on the monolith. Found ways around and up and over. So did almost everyone else.
And it was wonderful…
FREAKING EPIC!!!
Once we were back to the initial landing I realized I felt exhausted, depleted from spending an hour with FEAR. And we still had about 3 hours to run. 🙂
I felt ‘fully alive’.
However I remember with the most satisfaction the feeling of quieting my brain and not quitting. For going on even when I was afraid. For breathing and pausing and problem solving and for getting my brain to shut up long enough for me to decide where to place my foot in the next step.
I didn’t let fear win this time.
It got me thinking deeply about fears.
And how we allow them to limit us.
Often I believe we either assume we can’t do something or simply let fear shut the door in our face and accept it. I’m not talking about phobias or fears born of hard or life-changing experiences that leave us scarred. I get those and I get why those can’t be ‘worked’ around.
I’m talking about the more mundane/normal/regular fears that we accept as facts in our lives.
We have to respect fear for our own survival, I mean it’s there to protect us on several levels.
Fear is: An anxious feeling, caused by our anticipation of some imagined event or experience. — Psychology Today
I’m talking about the fears that we haven’t fully explored, the ones we just kind of blindly accept. Or the ones that crop up unexpectedly even. The ones that perhaps rob us of some of life’s defining moments and treasures.
There is joy in being fully alive.
There is blessing in staying alive because you respected that warning shot of fear.
But are all of my/your fears legit?
Are you limiting yourself because you’re afraid? Am I?
I did a lot of things this weekend that I normally categorize – big and small – in my brain as ‘being afraid’ of…
It’s Monday and here I am after a good day of work and normal routines. 🙂 I survived my fear(s) this weekend. Hell, I not only survived, I thrived, I lived, I conquered!
I’m feeling like a happy, tired, fear-facing, adventure girl at this moment in time. 🙂
Lifestyle changes are fraught with fears. I know most of them well. Really well. And I know that most of the time the things we are afraid of aren’t really real. They aren’t the true foe.
Sometimes those fears are deep and true and were learned with hard experiences and upon closer inspection/introspection we may simply have to respect them for what they are.
But…
But what if being afraid is simply our own choice to stand still and choose to accept a closed door because we’re too afraid to open the damn door?
That’s no way to see the world or enjoy life or grow or LIVE.
I’m challenging you – just as I challenged myself this weekend – to think about what you fear and consider, just for a moment, for a single moment, what would happen if you were to reach out, open the door and JUST SEE what happens.
My good friend and fellow trail runner, Jill Puleo (check out her YouTube chanel) gave me permission to share this recent conversation we shared on Facebook. It’s personal from both sides of our stories, but her advice to me…?
Holy cow.
Her advice to me is too damn good to keep to myself.
Jill (rockstar in the picture above!) and I have only met ONE time in person. Yet we have both worked to build a strong and growing friendship based initially on two simple things: Curly hair and trail running. 🙂 We met at Western States Camp 2015 waiting for the run for day two to start.
Our friendship essentially started from a three minute conversation at the start of a run.
How awesome is that!??
Here’s the Facebook conversation between Jill and I recently.
Betsy:
So the day you checked in with me?
Thank you following your gut or intuition or whatever was guiding you Jill. I had had a rough day.
Longish story as short as possible? Spencer had a run/stride analysis with a local coaching/Ultra-running/Guru that we all love and respect, Joe. Spencer loved it, gained a ton from it – and was quick to tell me that I should get one done as well. I made some comment at the time about ‘I’m not fast enough to have a stride.’ and dismissed the idea. Spencer would bring it up every once in a while… ‘Are you going to get your stride looked at by Joe?’ and I would say something benign and dismissive like ‘I’ll think about it’ or ‘maybe’.
Well this past weekend we had a full weekend of training. I am starting to ramp up training from an extended recovery period.
Spencer says he is only going to suggest to me one more time to seriously consider getting my stride looked at and then he’ll drop the topic but do I understand that this would be a really beneficial thing to do?
So I say yes, I’ll go see Joe. (I’ll admit I said it with the unmistakable tone of bitchy, forced, pissed-off….)
I email Joe and get an appointment.
I go.
Joe is AMAZING. SO much patience and knowledge. And it turns out I do have a stride and it’s kind of messed up or least could be a lot more efficient and ‘healthy’. He appreciates that my goal is to be running when I’m 70 and that I want to invest time in building a ‘healthy’ stride since I’m fairly new to running. He spent over two hours with me talking about what was weak/strong and how to work to fix some of the things he saw to get me to a healthy stride.
Here’s the deal… And this is what ALL of my resistance was about… He videos you running at different speeds and from different angles. And then you get to watch in ((slow-mo)) while he shows you your legs, angles, back, feet, arms… I assume it’s fascinating and instructive had I not been totally and utterly horrified at seeing myself running on video.
I saw a woman who looked fat, lumpy, flappy, floppy — her hair looked horrible and she really, really needs a new bra. I was so heartbroken at how I looked on that video I could barely hear what Joe was telling me.
And then we go through some range of motion exercises and cues — and we run/tape again. Again…. I’m watching the videos totally transfixed with how fat and awkward and horrible I look.
In my mind I’ve thought I looked happy and solid and like maybe even just a teeny, tiny little bit like an athlete when I run. Seeing the video removed ALL postiive thoughts I had about my body while running. I think deep down I KNEW this is what would happen which is why I was defensive and avoiding it all… I drove home choking back tears the entire way in self-pity. I know that Spencer knows something is wrong well beyond the stride analysis thing and me ‘not being fast enough to have a stride’. And I’d just about rather cut out my own tongue that explain that I just didn’t want to see myself on video…
Seeing myself on video running was actually far worse than I imagined.
Jill, please tell me to grow up. And that everyone hates their self on film. That I need to get over it – so I can get working on what really matters – which is a healthy stride…
I’m stuck in horrified, defensive and bitchy mode.
I want so badly to have a different body than I do… And that makes me sad. I know you will understand that because we’ve talked about body image issues before. And I KNOW that learning to love my body as it is, is a process.
I always seem to know exactly what to tell others who are struggling.
But if you would have seen the video of me running — you would understand my current horror and sadness…
Jill:
The video: YES I UNDERSTAND.
I understand so, so very much.
I am still suffering from seeing pictures of myself that my friend posted of me from her wedding in which, I look like a puffy old crow with a hooked nose and thick calves.
I am not going to tell you to grow up.
I am not going to tell you to “practice self care” (whatever the eff that means…I HATE THAT PHRASE) and I am not going to tell you that it doesn’t suck. Your body was made in a way that doesn’t please you and you fight it every day. Being flippant about that and telling you it will all go away with a journal and a cup of camomile tea is epic bullshit.
Secret?
OK here’s a big one: Although I believe in the Body Positive movement, I don’t really get some parts of it. I feel like there are many good points, but it also seems like there are a lot of excuses being floated around. You know what I mean…?
It’s those people who don’t want to feel ANYTHING uncomfortable. Well you and I both know that if you don’t feel anything uncomfortable, you are not growing. You are also not challenging yourself. I would like to sit home today and eat M&Ms. That would make me VERY comfortable. And the body positive people would say that after multiple days of doing this I should love the body that results. BUT NO. Because that is NOT FRIGGING HEALTHY.
So, my idea is this: I like to think of my body like I think of my my sister in law…I have to accept it for what it is, even like it sometimes, but I don’t have to love it.
YOU DON’T HAVE TO LOVE YOUR BODY.
But, I do think that you have to love what it does for you, and that’s where I choose to focus my thoughts. Or at least, I try. I know I am not a fabulous runner. I mean, I am not fast and I will never win anything. I do have this pretty amazing talent for long distances. I get more comfortable the longer I go and feel better doing it too. I think to myself that I like this about my body and I thank it for getting me this far.
BUT I DO NOT THANK IT FOR THE CELLULITE I’VE HAD SINCE I WAS 10.
I don’t care how much goddamned tea I drink I am never going to love my cellulite. I don’t know if this helps, but your body has done and will do a lot of things.
Maybe it’s a partner, a co-worker, a sister in law…
It doesn’t have to be your true romance.
BUT YOU…you, on the inside…well, you’d better love that part because inside that package is a heart and a mind and a soul and all of it is pretty spectacular.
As far as the video/photos go…you have the choice to never look at it ever again or watch it over and over. I try to think to myself: which of those options will allow me to be who I want to be once I stop watching? Like, I don’t want to be a total bitch all day, so I should probably NOT go through my high school yearbook, you know? Not without vodka, anyway.
You don’t get an award for being OK with watching your body flop around on a treadmill and being OK with it. But, it is nice to feel good and treat others well (aka: NOT be a bitch after said viewing) so in this case: YOU ARE JUSTIFIED and welcome to not ever look at that video again.
Don’t say “I should get over this” because that diminishes your feelings. Say “I will get better at handling this” because unlike the self-help/life coach/body positive ladies, I do not believe that this feeling will go away.
I think that instead of wishing it away, ya better cozy on up…because if you want to get through it by making it ghost, you’re in for a world of shit when it comes crashing back unexpectedly.
So, think about what you like about what your body does for you and focus on that. LIKE it. APPRECIATE it. But, don’t feel like a failure if you end up giving it the side-eye most of the time. You’re allowed.
That being said, be sure that you are not comparing your body to other bodies. I am pretty sure you don’t do this, but scrolling through Instagram can be incredibly defeating. All of those gorgeous bodies in front of gorgeous mountain ranges can be hard to watch…
OK that’s enough full frontal Jill for now…haha
Sending love as always
YOU ARE NOT ALONE.
You are never alone.
Deeply grateful for you, our friendship and your stellar, blunt, authentic advice.
I had to pull out my glucose testing kit this week.
It’s been in retirement for 3 years.
I am not gonna lie. It was a bit of a low moment. I was sad and a little scared.
I had a sudden flash of fear that Type 2 (T2) Diabetes was back or trying really hard to creep back in. I was noticing some things… Things that seemed disconnected, but hauntingly familiar.
Fuzzy thinking. Thirsty. Sleepy. Insatiably hungry. Irritable out of the blue/out of porportion. Craving sugar. Feeling ‘puffy’.
Not just the normal things that happen in life, I mean, the ‘symptoms’ were out of place given what was happening in my life.
All of the sudden it dawned me WHY these were familiar… This is the crap that happens when my blood sugars are out of whack.
I hadn’t felt these symptoms in these odd clusters in over three years…
Holy crap.
It was time to test and see what the numbers had to tell me.
I tested as soon as I put the pieces together and realized I was possibly experiencing some blood sugar issues. My post-prandial (2 hours post-meal) glucose was 111. For me — that’s a solid, if tad-bit high, number. But respectable.
Whew. Little breathing room and stab of relief.
I tested a fasting number the next morning and it was 110. Exhaling in relief. On the high side, but arguably good.
Yesterday was 100.
I’m in a ‘safe space’ with the numbers I’m seeing and recording.
They’re not as low as I would like, nor are they as low as I can make them when I’m keeping my diet ‘tight’.
While I’m clinically in a non-diabetic range, I still felt pretty clearly this was a wake-up call.
After Mountain Lakes 100 miler back in September, I had a revelation of sorts. The conversation in my head (and out loud to Spencer…) went sort of like this:
‘I just ran for 100 miles, for close to 30 hours and fueled that effort with about 5,000-6,000 calories of SUGAR. And while that’s pretty typical running fuel for ‘normal’ folks, uh… You aren’t normal. How horribly WRONG/DUMB/STUPID/RIDICULOUS is that equation for someone like YOU??! Can I remind you that you used to be morbidly obese, insulin-injecting, T2 for two DECADES. HOLY CRAP BETSY. You’re a reformed T2 diabetic and you just ran (which you can only do because you are no longer morbidly obese) eating pure, easily accessible to your blood, sugar. This.is.utterly.asinine. You can’t keep doing this. It’s a recipe for disaster.’
So I made the decision that I needed to change some things. Immediately.
It all has to start with my day-to-day food plan.
There’s a health condition called ‘Insulin Resistance’. It also gets talked about as ‘Carbohydrate Intolerance’. I’ve done a ton of research on it, and I have come to understand that I am no longer T2 Diabetic, but I am still insulin resistant. And I always will be. I can certainly manage it, but it’s not going to go away. While it is not an entirely accurate description, I kind of think of it as being ‘allergic’ to carbs.
((Here’s the disclaimer in all of this: I’m an experiment of one. I lost over 200 pounds, reversed type 2 and somehow fell head-over-heels in love with the endurance running world. Turns out that there aren’t a lot of people like me out there, and the ‘normal’ rules for food/nutrition/fueling just don’t ever seem to work well for me. My solutions and chosen paths are not likely to work or make sense for anyone else.))
I’m well aware that if I eat too many carbs {ANY KIND OF CARBS – YES… Even the ‘healthy ones’} I get swinging blood sugars. If I keep carbs {even the healthy ones…} to a minimum — my glucose stays in a horizontal and largely stable line.
‘My body hates carbs!’ — me
‘No. Your body loves carbs. It loves them to DEATH.’ — Deb, my sister.
So…
Good-bye to my plant based diet that I loved and enjoyed for almost three years. (Averaging 300 – 400 ish grams of carbohydrates per day with a healthy balance of grains, fruits and veggies.)
Hello again to my old friend, no-and-low carb. (Averaging 40-70 grams of total carbs per day.)
I’m tightly restricting my daily carbohydrate load. ANY carbohydrate source. Aiming for whole, non-processed foods. And I am most especially vigilant for any of the added or hidden variations of sugars/corn syrups that were truly and absolutely my worst enemy as a T2.
I know how to do this.
I just willingly and knowingly strayed from the basics that got me ‘here’; I strayed from the food plan that helped me lose weight, become non-diabetic, learn to run… I mean I reversed T2 Diabetes — I suddenly felt FREE and healthy enough to try new things with food, fueling, diet. So I did! I’m totally OK with those experiments and what they have taught me about myself and the way my body works.
I just find it humbling and interesting that I am back where it all started.
Back to the very basics of what worked when I first started this crazy journey. Back to low carb, NO SUGAR, low glycemic indexed foods.
((For my running friends who are wondering about fueling during training and events that this dilemma now hands me… Well. Join the crowd. Me too. I’m lost and little bewildered with it all at this moment in time. But I am deeply driven by the knowledge that if I want to stay healthy and running; I have to stay the course in managing this or T2 Diabetes could possibly win this whole freaking thing. I won’t, can’t let that happen. So let the new fueling experiments begin. 🙂 ))
This week has been a solid reminder that T2 diabetes is still chasing me 365 days a year.
One of the hardest questions I get about my journey in losing weight and reversing type 2 diabetes usually comes in the form of…
‘How do I talk to someone I love/know/care about that they need to lose weight?’
The basic answer, based on my personal experience, is; you really should NOT.
You can not motivate someone else to embrace big changes.
Any of the other folks I’ve talked to who have embarked on significant life changes echo my sentiments. We all seem to agree that we were ultimately motivated by some seemingly random moment in time or collection of small happenings or a ‘critical’ incident. The decision to make the lasting hard changes was never spurred on by someone’s ‘helpful comments’.
In fact, the opposite seems to be true. Those times people tried to talk to us about being overweight, unhealthy? We were NOT ready to listen, resentful to the message bearer and/or defensive that someone should personally attack us about our food or weight.
Not exactly a great set-up or fertile ground for healthy conversations.
Nothing anyone ever said to me about my weight or T2 Diabetes EVER convinced me to change for the long term.
Sure, the times someone approached me or talked to me about my weight or health or how my body looked, I’d make short-term/panicked changes out of grief or embarrassment or blind-hope even. But I wasn’t ready to do the hard-as-hell, wholesale, gritty work needed to make a sustainable change. No one could have convinced, guilted, cajoled or begged me into doing it until I was READY.
I was 350-400 pounds, grocery shopping. Yet again embarking on another diet I’d found in some magazine or had been told about by a friend who was miraculously and easily shedding weight. I was loading up my grocery cart for a successful start to a new diet. I had ‘light’ everything — including ice cream and ‘diet’ cookies. Everything in the cart was ‘on the diet’. This skinny, older man stopped me in the pasta aisle, looking in my cart and then looked me square in the eye and said loudly ‘You really don’t need all that ice cream and junk food.’ I remember leaving the fully loaded cart in the middle of the aisle and going home — totally mortified.
I had an aunt tell me ‘You don’t think drinking diet soda is all it will take to make you thin do you?’ (I was about 13 and remembered thinking that I did, in fact, think diet soda was at least one of the answers that was going to save me. I mean it wasn’t sugar soda and Weight Watcher’s said it was Ok…)
I had multiple friends in a variety of ways tell me that the reason I was single was because guys don’t date ‘fat chicks’ and if I could just lose weight I would find that elusive happiness and find the right guy.
‘Do you really need to eat that?’, ‘Aren’t you on a diet?’, ‘Should you be eating that?’.
Another relative gave me the ‘we care about you and you’re killing yourself and you won’t be around to see your nephews grow up’ ultimatum.
These comments and interactions may have meant to inspire, enlighten, encourage, scare or spur me into action, but they were by and large (pun intended) destructive and hurtful no matter how the message was delivered or who said it.
When you’re fat/unhealthy/overweight/out of shape; YOU DO NOT NEED SOMEONE TO TELL YOU ANY OF THAT.
You already know it… In all it’s painful and degrading glory.
You are well aware of your situation.
Someone telling you this obvious truth doesn’t make you instantly go… ‘Wow. Geez. I didn’t know that. I should do something about that. I am so glad they said something!’
It makes you feel deep shame. It pisses you off. Wounds you.
It beats you down because you know you’ve tried so, so many different things and none of them seemed to work and you really, truly do not know what else to do…
You’re humiliated. You can’t hide the problem of being overweight or obese. Hell, you publicly WEAR your problem for the whole world to see every minute of every day.
In no way did anyone’s ‘helpful’ comments ever give me the power and energy to embark on the changes that I ultimately would have to make.
Fat chance.
From everything I’ve read about the paradigm of change; telling someone they have a problem doesn’t usually help them move into action to resolve the problem. The trigger for real, lasting change usually comes from a seemingly innocuous, yet life-defining moment, a health scare, turning of the years or some other very personal ‘bottom moment’.
The moment when inspiration for change strikes and STICKS is very personal and pretty darn hard to explain.
If you are that person who is still insisting that someone in your life really needs to make a change, needs to lose weight, needs to get healthy. You care deeply, are afraid for their health and you genuinely want to help. You just.need.to.do.something…
The list below are the traits I sought out for my ‘team’ when I was finally ready to face the truth, do the work and make a change. In hindsight, these are the things my friends had been slowly and quietly doing over the years to try to get me to a healthier place. These are THEIR tricks…
{Actions speak far more loudly than words ever will.}
Listen. Listen for open doors or pleas for help or blatant defensiveness or fear. Then, and only when they open the door and invite you in, do you have permission to engage in the conversation about how you can help them. Don’t answer questions that have NOT been asked. Don’t offer advice that has NOT been asked for.
Set an example. Sign up for a 5K and invite them to join you to train for it and walk or run it. Move your normal meeting spots to a walk or coffee shop instead of a bakery or fast food lunch. Find subtle, genuine ways to shift the patterns of your friendship away from food and toward conversation, activity.
Be ready to embrace their change WITHOUT JUDGEMENT. There are all kinds of programs that people lean on/cling to/buy into when they are ready to commit to losing weight and changing their lifestyle. Programs and options we may or may not agree with or understand. BUT if someone wants to lose weight, learn new eating habits and get moving — GET OUT OF THEIR WAY! If someone is simply jazzed that they have found something to be excited about — be excited with them! If they’re willing to own it, work it and make it part of their life; who are we to judge?! Our job is to unequivocally support them.
‘You can lead a horse to water, but you can not make it drink.’
These were my old 26/28 or 5X pants. In this picture I’m about 170ish pounds and a size 10-12 L/XL. Just for reference.
I have gained some weight since early August.
No it’s not muscle, not fluid retention. (Nice try.)
It’s plain, ol’, legit weight gain.
I have to own it for what it is…
I’m trying not to panic. I’m trying to remember this is ALL part of the process, the adventure. Life.
But the idea and process of gaining weight – even a little – terrifies me given my history.
My brain – multiple times a day – chimes in with something along the lines of…
‘One pound? Might as well be 200 pounds Bets! You’re gaining weight. Slipperrrryyyy slope. This might just be the time you can’t stop it…’
I KNOW that gain/loss are normal parts of this whole process. And will remain consistent, persistent company for the rest of my life.
I have been rallying with…
‘This is about being healthy. Fit. And being healthy and fit for a lifetime. You know what to do, you’ll get it done. You’re worth the work. ‘
This is more than a single pound. Yet, I’m not entirely sure exactly how much weight — since I don’t rely on the scale anymore. I am working to use ‘environmental cues’ so that I do NOT get caught in that ‘weighing myself 5 times a day’ craziness that has plagued me in the past.
One day about 4 weeks ago I noticed that my pants were fitting tight. I felt a tickle of panic.
The past 3 weeks it has been noticing new things daily… My rain coat, race shirts, work shirts are all snug. I’ve spent the past 10 days or so trying NOT to panic. And trying to figure out exactly what to do about it all.
Weight loss, maintenance, fitness. Not a single one of those is linear or given or constant. You gotta keep working at it.
Every.single.day.
I know this. Yet I haven’t been paying it the attention it deserves or demands.
Training for and running the 100 miler was extraordinary. I’m hooked. I am already eyeing the next one. 🙂 The reality for me is that between tapering, resting an irritated achilles, ample recovery from the actual 100 miler, a post-race infection… I’ve actually had about 6 weeks of very, very low activity. And let’s throw into that mix that I never reigned in my eating. I was eating like I was still running 100 mile weeks. Plant-based, healthy, BUT TOO MANY CALORIES. So while the ‘tight pants predicament’ is disappointing and slightly frustrating and panic-inducing – it is in NO WAY an actual surprise. I have been eating more and moving less for weeks. And that equation is exactly how I got to be 400 pounds and Type 2 diabetic in the first place…
I need to focus on eating whole, nutrient-rich foods, in appropriate serving sizes and get back to moving more.
That simple.
And that freaking HARD.
It’s hard to get things back on track. Being off track is so ‘easy’ and fun. Until it’s not. And then it’s just daunting, hard, tireless work.
Here’s my plan for the next 21 days to get my habits back on track…
Accountability communicating regularly with a handful of friends who get my goals, my compulsions, my excuses, my food/fitness levels and history.
Tracking. Write everything down. Not just what I think looks good, appropriate or healthy. All.the.foods. Write them all down. (True confession. I used to lie in my own food journals. Especially at Weight Watchers when they used to review the journals at your weigh-in. I would lie BIG TIME, then we would all act SHOCKED when I had a weight gain, because my food journal was perfect… Please tell me I’m not the only one who has done that…) Tracking makes me more mindful and intentional.
Apples. If I am hungry and cruising in the kitchen/pantry for food during non-meal times, the rule is I can eat an apple. And if an apple doesn’t sounds good? THEN I AM NOT TRULY HUNGRY. Time for a gut check. Or a glass of water.
Check my thinking. I really did think I was ‘cured’ of my compulsive thinking and behaviors about and around food. Uh… Yeah… No. No way. That stuff might take a hiatus, you might have some tight control over it a while and you can even ignore it for short periods of time. But it never goes away. I’m working through this with a dear friend and mentor who battles eating compulsions as well, she reminds me to take things minute by minute, NOT even day by day. A day is a BIG, HUGE CHUNK of time when you’re managing food! She will gently and then not-so-gently remind me that I need to focus on what I can do in the next 5 minutes to help myself… Maybe 30 minutes, maybe an hour. But thinking in small, manageable ‘bites’ of time. Be mindful. Breathe. And we agreed that I need to only eat when I can really think about what I’m eating and doing and limit all distractions. (No more eating in the car, while walking across campus, mindlessly at the computer or standing at my desk…)
Routine. I will get back to running soon, which will help body and soul. 🙂 But there are other things that work well that have fallen by the wayside. Packing snacks and lunches. Keeping easy to eat, healthy items, visible and up front in the pantry and fridge. Using a part of my weekend to roast veggies and get things ready for a successful week. Making my health a priority, not an after thought.
No hoarding or hiding. This one is hard to admit. I was SO, so, so good at hoarding and hiding – ninja level for decades. And I have found myself recently hiding food. It was subtle and I was trying to justify it to myself as ‘I’ll need food after a run/work, so I’ll just keep it in the car.’ I’m really hiding it from Spencer, my roommate. I don’t want him, or ANYONE, to know the quantity of what it is that I’m actually eating. He would never judge or comment. He just wouldn’t. BUT I am fully aware that what I’m doing is eating way too much of something that is best in small quantities or probably best not being in my daily diet at all; and I don’t want to get ‘caught’. When I’m hiding food and worried about what someone is thinking, I KNOW I have a problem. The other giveaway about hoarding/hiding was this week I realized I’m keeping things hidden in three different areas in my office, so that if I open one cupboard, any given person only sees about 1/3 of the total stash I have squirreled away. Granted — this is all plant-based, healthy stuff. I’m not hoarding snickers bars. 🙂 But none-the-less, it’s stupid and self-defeating and self-sabatoging. It’s the behavior, not the food that is the core issue. I’m the only loser in this game. I stopped it for over four years and yet in the past four weeks I can see it slightly, quietly, trying to creep back in. I’ve talked to my accountability team. Have taken everything out of my car. At work on Monday — I’ll consolidate all of the food in one spot.
I’m using the time between now and the end of the year to get this train back on her tracks.
…Running back in the mix, plant-based foods at the core, sugar GONE, walks with friends instead of food, apples front and center in the fridge, kicking meditation up a notch, spending time with friends who are working toward the same goals…
We’ve been home from Transrockies (TRR) for 3 weeks. I’m still thinking about the incredible experience, missing my new friends and wishing I could just live in a tent and run all day, every day. I told Kevin Houda, the event organizer, he ruined reality for me. 🙂
This is what I put in my journal as if I was writing it all down for my friend Wendie. She was hiking in Yosemite at the same time I was in Colorado and I wanted to share all of this with her. So you’re really reading my note to one of my dearest friends.
This would be the day that I found joy. Right after finding a Yeti. A cheerleading Yeti named Fitzy.
If we’re being honest, I know I have been a grumpy bitch when it comes to running for the past year and a half. NOT overt, at least most of the time. And not usually aimed at anyone but MYSELF. But I would so easily and quickly go to the negative if something went wrong, or less than perfect, instead of going to my normal optimistic/positive frame of mind. I really hope no one on the outside noticed this personality shift, but I am afraid they did.
Well, I ditched that nasty bitch on the trails today on stage 3 of Transrockies.
I have just had, for the 3rd day in a row, the best day running. Ever. This just keeps getting BETTER. I have enjoyed each and every step of each and every run so far.
I’ll set this up for you a bit, in the same way all seemed to click into place for me…
You know I have been working for two+ years to get to the point that I could endure and enjoy six days of running.
This event is 120 miles, 20,000 foot of vertical climb. At significant altitude. (Which, for inquiring minds, does make it kind of hard to breathe when you train at sea level.)
I’m in a tent village of 550 trail runners from around the world, by a perfect/picturesque lake, at Novo Guides/Camp Hale Colorado. Every single person here, from runner to volunteer is 100% supportive of, engaged with and part of the trail and ultra world. So — I’m surrounded by people who get me and my desire to run really long distances for fun and they want to do the same.
I. Am. In. Heaven.
Back track a few weeks. I had that training week from hell. By design. I had to do a big volume week to get ready for the 100 miler. So it was close to 100 mile week – which I have never done. I know that I allowed the fatigue and negative energy from that week of hard physical and mental work to cascade down about six weeks… To where I finally had a full-on meltdown and told Spencer I never wanted to run again. I think I also said things like I was selling all of my shoes, never wearing a running shirt again and un-friending anyone who posts about running on Facebook. It was pretty epic. Totally ridiculous NOW of course, but in that moment – I FELT IT. Joyless, exhausting and scary as hell. I felt apathetic.
And apathy, as you know, scares me more than ANYTHING.
So here’s where I have to be really honest with myself. If I back track a year or so, I have been caught in a low-grade, persistent comparison trap. ‘She’s thinner’, ‘they’re faster’, ‘he climbs better than I do’, I didn’t hit my pace, I barely finished that run, they logged more miles than I did this week and we’re doing the same race. Oh how I wish I could grab that time back from that grumpy-comparing-bitch that I was. I drove myself crazy. I drove Spencer crazy. I probably drove you crazy. I’m pretty sure there are some people who I have met in the past 18 months or so who think that this comparing, self-denigrating, self-loathing is my permanent disposition. It’s not… REALLY! I’m a pretty happy, optimistic person at my core.
However, when it comes to running this past year/year and a half, I have to admit that I got caught by the throat in this horrible cycle of comparing and beating myself up.
So today… Today I willingly, forcefully, ditched that grumpy, nasty piece of work in a creek as I ran. She made a big splash when she landed. I totally took her by surprise. 🙂
I was running and just sorta started piecing it all together and realized what I had allowed to happen. Realized that this was my chance, my choice, to grab my happy, joyful self BACK.
The creek was cold and swift and beautiful and was the ideal place to let that ugliness quickly and quietly wash away without contaminating anyone else in the process.
I am so happy with that choice and that moment. Goose-bumps, ear-to-ear grin and profound relief. 🙂 I felt free and light and happy and could only think over and over and over again…
‘I FOUND MY JOY AGAIN! Man. I missed her! I missed her so, so much!’
I started running for the joy of it all four(ish) years ago to lose weight, gain health and to be part of a community that embraced the lifestyle I was chasing.
I started trail running specifically because…
There’s no judgement in trail running. If you have feet, shoes and desire to learn; SOMEONE is going to be eager to convert you to our dirty side of the world. 🙂
You do what works for you. Period. I mean, you have to figure it out – but no one cares what or how you go about it. It takes ALL kinds. 🙂
And you can NOT tell a trail runner by looking at them. There’s a ‘type’ that the elites MIGHT look like, but usually a trail runner is identified solely by their HEART. It’s what is INSIDE their chest and brain that sets them apart and makes them who they are.
Trail running and the ultra world seem to be full of people working to heal themselves, find themselves, grow, change — those are JUST the kind of people I want to be around.
I ran 24ish miles on Tuesday. Then climbed Hope Pass Wednesday. Stage 3, Thursday, my legs felt good when I woke up; no aches and pains. None! And even better? My MIND was excited to see what the trail was going to be like, who I would meet on the trails and what I would learn. Today was about legging out another 25 miles in the best fashion I could with some hills and rolling terrain. No time requirement, no judgement and no real plan other than I would give my best and practice what I have spent the past few years learning. I met GREAT people. I took a pictures. I just ran, with no Garmin beeping at me, no real plan, no expectations…
I just ran.
And I ran straight toward the joy I used to have in my early days of running.
She welcomed me back like a grateful, forgiving and long-lost friend.
The night before we started to run TRR, Spencer gave me his coaching brief. It usually goes something like this…
‘DO not stop and pick up rocks. No selfies. Limit the conversation – if you can talk while you’re running/hiking, you aren’t working hard enough. Eat often and plenty. Stick to the plan.’
So when he said…
‘Bets, I want you to just breathe, listen and do not respond to what I’m going to say… This week is going to change your life if you let it.’
And then he proceeded to tell me to meet people (ALL the people!), pick up heart rocks, take pictures, talk to volunteers, and just work to enjoy each and every step of the journey…
I listened.
With my whole heart, I listened.
Stage 3 felt life-changing, healing, like a reunion of the happiest kind.
THESE women know joy. Michelle and Andi. Happy, strong, brave, trail sisters. 🙂