Healthy lifestyle

I am a trail runner.

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 24 Comments

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I lost myself on a mountain Friday.

And I found myself.

Friday was intensely emotional.  Like the kind of day where tears are all over the place and I seemed to have no way to stop them.  And my heart was busting open.  And I can’t find the right words to explain any of it.

I hate crying in public so I did a lot of hiding in porta-potties and my tent.

Stage 5 of Transrockies. It’s a hard stage. Lots of people struggled with it. I felt strong, it’s the kind of running I like and it involved some serious power hiking (13 miles of it).  I ended the day in 35th for the stage. I have NEVER had a solid result like that. So there’s that little emotional tidbit… I raced my ass off. And it worked. That alone would have been justification for a few tears. 🙂

Then there was another emotional tidal wave occurring during and after the run…

Right around checkpoint 2 I had what I can only describe as a breakthrough.

Except that while it kind of slammed me in the chest and mind; I’m still trying to figure out exactly what in the hell happened.

I went through the checkpoint and grabbed watermelon and small cup of coke. Grabbed 3 Gu’s to re-fill my pack and barreled out of the station. (Spencer’s voice in my head ‘quit dicking around and wasting time at aid stations.)

I left about 30 people in the aid station and was once again by myself.  Every other day I’ve fallen into a similar paced tribe and had great people to run along with.  Today — no one was around.

I was running on a ridge line above Vail, CO. I looked left and right and all I could see was mountains and trees and clouds and some of the most beautiful scenery ever.  It took my breath away how beautiful this country was that I was getting to run in, and see up close.

I started thinking about how THIS IS MY LIFE.  I’m running. In the Rockies.  And I have friends at the camp. And I’ve made some new friends that will be lifelong. And I’m running. I’m hiking.  I’m healthy…

This is my life.

Then the shovel hit me in the face.

I AM NO LONGER A 400 POUND WOMAN.

I’m a trail runner.

I’ve been waiting for the day I would no longer instantly and resolutely identify with my 400 pound former self.  I was always the heavy girl.  I still see myself that way.  Still judge everything against that benchmark. Still startle when I see my reflection sometimes and don’t recognize myself..

I’ve been waiting to see a certain number on the scale, or buy a certain size pants, or — fuck — I have NO CLUE what I was really waiting for to understand that that is no longer my life, no longer my identity.

Along the same vein…  I run.  I only say ‘I’m a runner’ to appease Spencer.  It PISSES him off no end that I run and work out and train and race and refuse to see my self as a runner.

Today on that exposed ridge, in Vail, with no one around.  I ran.  On the dirt.  Bawling.  And gasping for breathe, not just because of the altitude – but because I was totally overwhelmed with happiness and understanding and acceptance.

I kept running and the tears flowed.  I got to Checkpoint 3 and there’s a guy that I’ve become friends with who is an ultra runner —  his name is Mike and he here at Transrockies as a volunteer.  Outlandish costumes, cowbells and loud encouragement at the most unlikely of spots on each stage to cheer on every single runner. And he happens to be one hell of a great guy.  I feel safe with him after knowing him for about 72 hours.  I ran up to him, tears all over my face,  at the checkpoint and said ‘please put on your coach hat and tell me to run the 5 miles down the hill as hard as I can, because I’m tired and I don’t want to run, but I’ve had the best running day possible so far…’  He said ‘RUN! You can do this, I’m proud of you!’.  I grabbed watermelon and coke and again took off.  And proceeded to practice descending down hills — on legs that are tired — just the way Spencer taught me.  I was moving fast and strong and confident on the straight downhill stretches.

Then about halfway down he hill I got passed by Brett.  A runner from Chicago. He’s an athlete who I have been sharing parts of the trail with briefly each day.   By the halfway mark of each day he’s usually way ahead and I won’t see much of him until dinner. He went running past me with about 5 K to go, as I was walking a section sucking down some fuel and said ‘BETSY!  Come on, run!’. I didn’t have a chance of catching him – but it didn’t stop me from trying.

That moment triggered another onslaught of tears — which by the way make it hard to run… But here’s a guy who sees me as a runner.  Not the fat girl. Just a runner.  And he has NO CLUE of my history or background or story.  He just sees me as a runner – who somehow got in front of him late in the race. 🙂

And that shovel of realization hit me again…

The finish line I can hear Spencer yelling for me before I even rounded the corner to the finishers chute.

If there is one person in this world who gets the complicated package of my fat girl psyche and my refusal to identify and OWN my rights as runner — it’s him.

I was crying down the finishers chute and then found him.  Told him – choking on those freaking tears that seem to be cropping up even now — ‘I’m not that 400 pound woman anymore.  I’m a trail runner… I left the fat girl on the mountain.’

I sat in front of Spencers tent much later in the day. We would do a daily debrief and catch-up of how the day went and how we feel about things and what we need to be thinking about for the next stage.. This time was more about my emotional neediness.  Spencer, much to his chagrin, is a security blanket for me. I was emotionally raw and hanging on by the thinnest of threads.  And I couldn’t stand being alone, or being around people who don’t know me or my story at a time when something this big has shifted in my mind and heart and was swamping me.  The conversation meandered around about the day and with me crying and not knowing how to explain what had happened on the mountain – but me needing to know that he, of anyone, understood how HUGE this moment was for me.  He kept telling me to write it all down.  I kept telling him I have no real fucking clue what happened on that mountain – but it was undeniably life-altering.

Here I sit writing (and crying…) trying to explain to anyone else who would possibly care — what happened in Vail on Stage 5 that is going to make a different person tomorrow. And forever more….

Words aren’t going to do this episode justice.  They can’t.  It’s a change of heart.

It’s been a shift a long, long, long time coming. It’s letting go of the familiar and comfortable and the steel anchor that held me back all at the same time.

It’s scary as hell.

I feel totally and utterly confused about exactly what happened on that mountain.   And grateful.  And kind of stunned. Perhaps I’ll never entirely know or be able to explain it.  And I think I’m OK with that.

I woke up Friday morning knowing I could run, work hard, give 100% effort and that it still wouldn’t make me anything other than the former 400 pound woman who took up trail running as a hobby and to lose weight.

I am about to go to bed on Friday night a trail runner.  A trail runner who found running and then it and the people in the trail community helped me save my life. I am trail runner who can lay down a great personal effort because I’ve been trained and paid attention and worked hard — not as payment for past sins.

I am a trail runner.

I left my 400 pound former self on those very mountains that I watched from the airplane all those years ago…

And yes.  I’m still crying.  Just letting the tears flow.  I figure it’s years of fighting and ignoring and denying finally leaving my body… For good.

Saturday is stage 6.  I’m going to fight like hell, run my ass off and enjoy every single STEP of the journey.  I’m going to celebrate finding myself in the Rockies.

I’m going to run some trails.

The mountains are calling… Transrockies here I come!

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 5 Comments

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‘Each fresh peak ascended teaches something.’ — Sir Martin Convay

I am piling up clothes, shoes and supplies because I am about to pack a bag (several bags actually, because packing light is NOT one of my super powers…) and embark on an adventure.

An epic adventure that I’ve been working toward for the last 2 years. It’s cheesy to say, but it’s kind of a dream coming true moment for me.  I leave in a matter of hours!

My heart beats a little faster when I get asked about it, I break out in a big-ass grin and I have been walking around randomly humming ‘Rocky Mountain High’ (Yes.  I know it’s not just about the mountains. Save the jokes. But I am the girl who grew up listening to John Denver on vinyl… )

I have flown a TON for my work over the years. I worked mostly west of the Mississippi River – flying in and out of Portland Oregon.  My flights commonly hubbed in Denver.  We would soar over the Rockies coming into and out of that airport.  I can remember thinking many, many times as I stared out the window at those incredible mountains…

I wonder what it looks like in those mountains?  What is it like to actually be in those mountains?

How would it feel to climb up on one of those exposed ridges and feel like you could turn 360 degrees and see the ends of the earth?

At close to 400 pounds — looking out the window as we flew over the mountains ranges and simply wondering what the Rockies looked like was the extent of my connection to any of those fabled peaks for decades.

But life has a way of changing. 🙂

I don’t weigh 400 pounds anymore. I’m not a Type 2 Diabetic dragging along a Sharps container and pen needles. I don’t get winded and red-faced after walking half a mile. I’m active and healthy and damn it all… I WANT TO SEE THOSE MOUNTAINS. I want to KNOW those mountains. I want to walk in those mountains and breathe in that (thin!) air and just see what it looks like from the ground.

Not from the plexiglass window of an airplane.

So I am going to Colorado for a running event/race/camp.

I’m headed to the Transrockies Run.  Kind of what it sounds like…  It’s a 6-day running camp in the Rockies.

I am traveling with Spencer, Dave, Erica and Sean.  And for 6 days we get to run, camp, make new friends and SEE, LEARN, RUN THOSE MOUNTAINS!  120 miles of those mountains.  And about 20,000 feet of vertical climbing in and on and around the Rockies.

It’s epic.  It’s scary.  It’s exciting.  I’ve never done anything like this in my life.  Never thought I could ever do something like this in my life.

Oh… BUT I CAN NOW and you have no idea just how badly I WANT to…!

The old life I lived… I wouldn’t have been in shape to hike anything beyond the parking lot. I couldn’t sit in the car for 120 miles without being in extreme discomfort. I wouldn’t have fit in a sleeping bag.  Sleeping on a sleeping pad, on the ground would be the recipe for never getting back up off the ground.  I wouldn’t have trusted the camp to have enough of the sugary/fat/processed foods I was living on.  I never would have fit in a portable shower stall….  Get the picture as to why I believed something like this would never, ever happen?!

But that’s not my reality anymore. 🙂

I’m really going to try to absorb and enjoy each moment. I intend to enjoy EACH and every single step I get to take in those fabled, rugged and spectacular mountains.

I have worked for 2 years, steadily, to get to the point where I feel I can run the mileage and handle the back-to-back-to-back running.  I know I fit in my sleeping bag 🙂 and I’m totally OK with the food they will be serving.

It’s almost go time.

It’s time to meet those mountains with my very own feet.

We’ll fly over those mountains coming and going from Colorado.  But on the trip home… This time… This time I’ll know as I stare out the window, I’ll know what those mountains actually look like from the ground.

Now I really have to get serious about packing… 🙂

‘The mountains are calling, and I must go.’ — John Muir

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Before and after pictures are kind of a crock.  The real changes, the changes that matter the most are the changes of the heart.  The doors opened.  The live you decide to live, instead of just exist or survive.  This picture was 400ish pounds and surviving in the day to day.  SHE’s who I am taking to meet the mountains… 🙂

WHY can’t I take my own advice?

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 10 Comments
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Wendie and Betsy 2016

 

I weigh the same today as I did last year.

And it’s the same as the year before.

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SAME race 2015, with Spencer

This is 2+ years of stable weight for me.  Ups and downs, but year over year – I am staying almost the same. 🙂

And THAT is a big deal in my world.  A world that was dominated by very consistent weight gains my ENTIRE life.  Mixed-in with radical, unsustainable, starvation-style, short-lived weight losses. Such a life-long, nasty, horrible, depressing cycle.

Until 5 years ago.

I enlisted the help of Wade, Hannah, Liz, Deb and Anneke to be my accountability team and help me get control of my life before Type 2 diabetes and obesity killed me. I carefully tracked my weight loss over the 3 years I was losing and checked in with them all weekly.  But I have only been tracking my ‘stable’ weight for the last year and a half. This was in part prompted by Spencer asking me why I was paralyzed with fear at a ‘small’ weight gain.  I was in total meltdown, convinced I had gained 15 pounds or more overnight.  When we really investigated it and broke it down; it was about a 3 pound weight gain.  It felt MUCH BIGGER. But the truth was that I hadn’t tracked my weight consistently so I had NOTHING factual to go on. So the past 18 months or so I have documented my weight along with my workouts in my Garmin database.   Now I can only argue with graphs and facts.  Not my faulty and anxious memory.

I weigh 172.8 pounds today.

The part no one told me about this whole journey was that every little dip, dive, gain on that scale (Which is ENTIRELY NORMAL) often escalates into emotional drama and fear and over-reaction. I am ashamed to admit how many times I have stepped on the scale multiple times within a single day seeking reassurance or in some way hoping that stupid little machine would banish my fears…

Holy crap has the scale/my weight/a NUMBER had me in a chokehold.

This morning it was in graph form for me to see.  No arguing with anything.  I weigh the same as I did last year.  I told Spencer that my weight is now 2 years stable.  And his response ‘so what does that make you think about…?’

Good question. 🙂

I thought about ALL of the wasted time, drama, energy, self-loathing that have gone into the last few years where I was SURE every single food choice had the ability to catapult me backwards or derail my efforts. Let alone when I let the daily number on the scale dictate my mood for the day…

But this mornings weight and graph were pretty solid proof that I can actually manage my weight with food and activity. I’m doing the right things over the long haul, even if I don’t get the day to day stuff just right. 🙂

This morning’s realization and conversation also got me thinking…  Had I been open-minded at the start of this whole thing and could have listened to and absorbed some grounded advice — what information would have been helpful?

I really wish I could have told myself a few things when I started this whole crazy journey…

Told myself and BELIEVED it…

1. Your weight fluctuates.  Daily. It can go up or down during training.  If you have your period.  If you eat too much salt.  The rotation of the earth. 🙂 Sometimes it’s really legit gain because you ate too many calories because your friend Wendie makes this insane guacamole that you can not stop eating.  But you have to understand that your weight isn’t stable in the day to day. Not gonna happen. Quit even thinking it’s possible. And you know what?  It isn’t meant to be. You thought you got to a number and stayed there with just a little effort?  That this whole bodyweight thing was simple math and cut and dried?  Uh…  HELL NO.

2. Take measurements.  I really WISH I had known how big my hips or belly or thighs were at my largest.  I didn’t take measurements because — hell — who really wants to know that they have a 75” waist?  You will wish you had those body measurements for reference and reassurance in the process. At any point when you’re feeling ‘fat’, stalled or just wondering how far your journey has taken you — you can pull out a tape measure and be assured, well beyond the confines of a stupid scale, that you were NOT gaining anything but muscle or fitness.

3.  Worry is wasted energy.  Spend time looking for solutions and opportunities.

4. And for the love of ALL THAT IS HOLY quit beating yourself up. YOU, who you are at the very CORE of your being, has nothing to do with the number on a scale or the packaging of your body. NOTHING.  Please, oh please, just believe me on this one.  I’m in tears writing this.  I am crying for you and for myself too. Because I know you won’t believe me, you can’t fathom what I’m trying to tell you… This is the last thing you can possibly wrap your mind around when you’ve battled your weight your entire life and a number is staring you in the face — a number you hate.  A number so large you didn’t know the scale went that high. I know that feeling of panicked desperation and hopelessness as well as I know the sound of my own heart beating. Text me, call me, reach out to me and I will spend the rest of my life relentlessly reminding you of your value to our world. I’m a way better judge of your value than a stupid mechanical piece of crap you bought at Costco.

5. Don’t pick a number for a goal.  (See 1.) Don’t pick a clothing size either. That’s really just another number. Pick a feeling, activity, ability, destination.  You want to climb stairs and not be gulping for air?  You want to feel solidly OK with how you feel in your birthday or bathing suit? 🙂  You want to be able to hike, run, walk, move better….  PICK something that isn’t a transient, essentially meaningless, number.

6. Know that the BIG picture is worth all the little steps, mis-steps, concerns, questions, sacrifices. It’s hard work. It’s worth it.  And this is in NO WAY linear.  No way.  There is nothing direct, logical or straight about this path you are on.  And you’re going to be making stuff up as you go.

7. Do NOT let that scale dictate your mood to the world.  It’s up a bit?  DO SOMETHING about it.  Don’t be a bitch. Or walk around like someone ran over your dog. Or have a short fuse with loved ones.  Or start secluding yourself from the people you love because you feel you don’t ‘deserve’ their love or you’re deeply embarrassed. Stop allowing that stupid, effing, scale to affect your mood.

8. Please, please, please love on yourself.  And believe in yourself.  YOU will do this.  And you can’t see the day, but it’s coming; you will be healthy and happy. Your weight should not be allowed to dictate ANY of that.  You have so much to offer the world.  You’re an aunt.  A sister.  A friend.  A daughter.  A momma. A lot of really, really remarkable things that no one else in the whole entire world can possibly be! We were only given ONE of you. One. Do what you can each day to help yourself get healthy so you can be around and enjoy the life in front of you.  Be around for US.

9.  This isn’t a short-term investment.  You will look at something daily and judge it as not moving, plateaued (favorite Weight Watchers scapegoat phrase right there…) failing.  But if you can just HANG ON and look at this from the 3,000 foot view, look at this from a 365-day investment — you will see growth.  YOU WILL.  Really!  Keep at it.  You didn’t gain the weight over night.  You will not lose it overnight. Trite and irritating – but TRUE.

10. One of my favorite songs of all times is ‘Live Like You Were Dying’ by Tim McGraw.  You’re living this weight loss journey with a lot of fear.  Fear of going backwards.  Fear of judgement.  Fear of FAILURE…  What if…?  Holy smokes.  The fear you have embraced and live with could choke an elephant. What if you could just enjoy the journey for what it was and live each day like you are trying to be your very best? Living like you’re dying doesn’t mean you live with no consequences for your choices.  It means you accept each day, each moment for what it is and keep moving toward the goal you want to reach…

Even though I was intellectually aware of all of this,  I sure as hell did not understand it.  Couldn’t figure out how to apply it to my situation.  None of it.  I know that until very recently I simply wasn’t ready to hear it,  understand it.

Today prompted a lot of thinking.

This time I really am listening. 🙂

I hope that anyone else who might need to hear this is listening as well…

 

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5 years.

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 5 Comments

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It’s been 5 years since I started this whole wild, crazy, life-saving journey.

1,825 days spent working to change my ways.

Most of those days I worked hard, got it right, or at the very least I tried to make the smartest choice I could at any given moment.

Some of those days I just held on for dear life.

A few of those days were walks backwards. Regressions, lessons, pity parties and more than a few tears…

I am 5 years in today — with hopefully many, many years in front of me.  I am cherishing the time that this lifestyle change bought me; time I plan to continue to use to love, adventure, run, grow, LIVE…

I have been handed a second chance at life and I am not going to waste a single moment.

Five(ish) years ago my doctor basically told me I could be dead in 5 years if I didn’t make a serious change in my life.  Obesity, type 2 diabetes, high blood pressure, high cholesterol were taking their toll.

Here we are 5 year later…

And I’ve made some serious changes.

I love when someone close to me — who KNOWS what I have been through says … ‘Five years ago would you have ever guessed…?’

The answer is always ‘no.’

Always.

I knew things had to change. But let’s be honest… I really had NO idea how this whole ’embracing a healthy lifestyle’ thing would go.

Or what I would gain.  Learn.  Love.

How radically different my life would become.

There are inspirational quotes that speak to this — but in reality that time was going to pass anyway.  Each day was marching forward no matter what. I could have used those 1,800 days to hone my skills with needles/meds/glucose monitors and gotten to know even more fast food drive-thrus and bought more ill-fitting clothes in the largest sizes possible.  I could’ve kept marching toward a sure and early grave, merely treating the disease as I gave up trying to save my own life.

Not to be all dramatic or anything — but seriously?  That is exactly what I was doing…

Instead…

I woke up July 2 five years ago and I began to fight.

I built and then clung to a team of support people.

I was fiercely determined to find a way to make this work.

I started to eat less and move more.  I started losing weight and gaining control of my blood sugars.

A year in, I kicked diabetes to the curb.

I found running after a lifetime of saying I would only ‘run when chased’.  And then fell head over heels (pun intended, although I really have fallen on my face a few times…) in love with running.  Trail running to be specific.

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I’ve worn tight/short spandex shorts in public.  Many times. 🙂 I’ve even run in just shorts and sports bra.

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I can cross my legs. I can see my feet. I can fit in an airplane seat. 🙂

And then there’s the whole bathing suit thing… 🙂

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I still have to watch portions.  I still fret over the scale. I still feel like a 392 pound woman walking around some days. But I NOW have tools and people and goals that make all of those issues seems less-important and way less all-consuming than they were even a year ago…

Nothing happened overnight.  It was tons and tons of little baby steps on a wild roller coaster ride.

But I never, ever could have guessed where this was all headed or how my life,  body and health would change.

If you would have told me 5 years ago that I was going to be able to use my story of being morbidly obese, Type 2 Diabetic, inactive, really just ambling around and waiting to die….  If you would have told me that I was going to be HELPING others to try to reclaim their lives, I would have told you that you had lost your mind.

And yet that’s the biggest gift of this whole endeavor.

Meeting people like me.  People facing triple-digit weight loss, stern orders from Docs to ‘do or die’ and the inability to even know how to take that first horrifically-frightening step forward to save their own life.

I know how they feel.

I was THERE.

I remember going to bed on July 1st terrified out of my mind at what I was about to embark on.  And yet MORE terrified of what my life would be like in 5 years if I didn’t get started.  I don’t remember sleeping very well that night. 🙂  But I remember that when I woke up on July 2, 2011 — my feet hit the floor and I KNEW in my heart and soul that this time, this TIME, I was going to be successful in making some big changes. My life depended on it.

I’m not done.

I committed to this change for life.  I’m still learning and growing and changing.  And it’s not linear. There are still good days, bad days and habits that have to be shaken off or replaced.  I’m really not done. 🙂

But every single day is a gift.

The people in my life are blessings beyond words.

The people who started this journey with me, the ones who run beside me now and the ones in between at every cross/turn/bump who supported, cajoled, questioned and supported me.  It’s an entire, bustling village full of people who got me to this point.

This girl has a heart bursting with gratitude and joy.

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Sticks and Stones and words…

~ betsyhartley392 ~ Leave a comment
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Happy, fit and READY to run.  Photo by the one and only Patrick Means.

‘Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.”

As a trail runner — sticks and stones are common foes.  My friend Josh calls me ‘Princess Faceplate’.  For good reason.  I’ve earned the nickname.

Nothing serious has ever transpired for me personally – and I will admit that there have been some close calls.  I have friends that have met worse fates, serious injuries, broken bones, even career ending injuries. It’s part of what we take on when we hit the trails…  Tripping, falling, scrapes, blood, wounds, stick-‘snakes’, etc…

But when I really got to thinking about it; some of the worst wounds are inflicted with words…

I was running along thinking ‘Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me?  That old childhood saying a total and complete load of crap!‘

Some of the words said to me and some of the others folks I know have been imminently hurtful and often-times it’s from a source that has NO CLUE they’ve lobbed something hurtful in our direction.

For me, people commenting on my weight or how my body looks (‘too big to be a runner’ is the one I can’t seem to forget) send me into a tailspin. Every time. I’ve done a TON of work on trying to get over this issue. A ton.

Then I found this great blog post and realized — I’m not alone.  I’m not the only one who would prefer a scrapped knee to a comment that I can’t dislodge from my brain. I am not alone by an epic long shot.  And that actually makes me sad.

Give the article a read.

Critique of the Female Trail Runner

No really… Go back and read it.

I can’t stop thinking about it.

And since some of you won’t read it; here’s the gist…  It details some of the hurtful, rude and mean things that are said to some of the top, elite, wildly-talented, healthy female athletes in ultra running.

After a conversation with my friend Rebecca the other day — we pretty quickly agreed that this article could apply to ANY sport/event/venue/issue/person.

This issue isn’t just about running.

Negative comments, critiquing of others, being treated rudely or having thoughtless words  cast our way is something we have probably all dealt with.  And I know from conversations with my guy friends; this isn’t limited to women.  There is a WHOLE lot about someone you can’t see/don’t know — and commenting just makes things worse for that person.

And we all pretty agree these days that cowards/bullies hide behind social media to say things they would NEVER say to someone’s face.

 

Telling someone she looks ‘too thin’ isn’t going to help her on her road to recovery from anorexia. Telling me that you ‘didn’t know women my size’ could run is not helpful to me in maintaining my weight and my commitment to fitness.  Telling my friend recovering from a serious accident that she looks ‘scrawny and weak’ is NOT a confidence builder on this woman’s road to rebuilding her fitness and stamina.

NONE of us know anyone else full backstories or struggles, our passions, our fights, our desires — we so, so often take one look at the physical shell and make a comment based on how someone looks.

That’s not helpful or kind.

And shouldn’t we really endeavor – in this harsh, tough world – to help and encourage others and show them kindness when we can?

It’s really pretty simple.

Just my opinion.

Now, go read the article. 🙂

And if you want to read some more good stuff — visit their website at Trailsisters.net

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Dug.  My favorite Disney character. He loves everyone.

Fat in California…

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 1 Comment
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American River and the town of Auburn are behind us. Spence and I are heading out to run the Quarry Trail.

I am a California native.

In thinking about it on todays run… I spent all of the time I was an adult and working in California obese, inactive, eating all the wrong things.

I am not really exaggerating.

There were times where I would start a diet, try to get active, only to give it all up in a freaking hurry. As soon as I got hungry or sore – I would quit. And then gain even more weight. Like probably 30 different times. Hell. Maybe 50. Or more. You get the point.

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Easily 350 pounds and 20 years ago.

I see California as my ‘fat’ young adult years.

It’s where pre-diabetes walked in the door and would soon refuse to leave. I don’t have memories of California that aren’t of me as an obese adult. Happy, but the obesity and type 2 Diabetes were escalating rapidly.

Doing something new that I never knew existed always makes me introspective… And this time doing something new in California – in a place I drove by for decades – made me sappy, happy, grateful. I mean this is a place that could have been my stomping grounds had I been in any shape to have been stomping around.

Spencer and I along with our friend and fellow ultra-runner Josh Hough are in Auburn, California this weekend to run in a training camp.  We will run 70 miles of the Western States Endurance Run 100 course over the next 3 days.  Spencer and I did this training camp last year and it is ahhhmazing.  Running a historic course. Non race event, just long training runs that are supported. Surrounded by amazing athletes and folks passionate about the sport of trail running.

This year our road-trip brigade came down a day early to get our bearings, get set-up and simply spend one day relaxing.

Turns out that none of us are very good at relaxing. 🙂

Spencer and I went for a run this morning on a new-to-me trail that is right off of a highway I traveled for decades with my family and during College.

I was telling Spencer that my life is just still so surreal on a few levels.

Being in California, eating plant based, running…  Those are all things I could NEVER, ever have imagined when I was living in California.  I found myself thinking  about 6 different times this morning… ‘WOW! Is this really my life now?!’

I’ve driven by this spot for 20+ years and never thought for a split second about trails in all the years we drove by.  This specific freeway off-ramp had ALL the good fast food you could possibly want before heading up 84 to Tahoe.  I know those locations by heart.

I never thought I’d be back here one day and parking at a trail head so we could go run alongside the American River for a few miles.

Who knew?

I never imagined I would want to climb the trails in the Sierra’s, or run on them, or care deeply about treading the ground of a historic running race.

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Yet, here I am.

And I’m loving this view and experience of California that requires me to get off of the roads, explore  and eat healthy and move along under my own power.  And explore!

I am happy and healthy and do NOT take any of that for granted for even one second.

I have been given the second chance at life. Not everyone gets that chance.  I won’t waste it.

I will use this weekend to build new and healthy memories in the state that I grew up in.

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I love the Cali trails.  And they loved me right back. 

Mac 50K and Laziness

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 1 Comment
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Josh, Alan (ran his first ultra!) and me.  Running from Ridge, toward Horse.

Mac 50K this year was fantastic!  Cool, rainy, muddy, friends, laughter, perfection…

Mac is my favorite race, in one of my favorite places in the world.

I approached the race as a long and supported run to practice for the event I have in September. I was testing gear, making sure of my shoe choice, practicing my new-found downhill skills and I HAD TO WORK on fueling. This was my chance to put it all together and watch it work.

In the back of my head I knew I had run this race in 8:04 in 2015. So I’ll go ahead and admit that yes, I had a trying-to-ignore-it-but-it-was-out-there goal, to try to break 8 hours. I was trying not to think about that. It was NOT the point of the day.

Ultimately, I nailed everything I set out to do.

SOME MAJOR WINS!

Fueling was better than it has ever been.

Gut stayed intact.

Loved my Altras. (I still have all my remaining toe nails!)

Comfy with my hydration pack and know where to stash everything.

FINALLY got to run an entire 50K with my friend/running partner Josh.

Spencer placed 8th overall.  He had a fantastic run and wrote a great blog about it. Read it here.

Wendie paced Josh and I the last 5 miles, after cheering and crewing for us the entire day.

It was a perfect day.

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Patrick! An important part of our Novo Veritas team. He was at the start line this year to cheer us on.

From ‘The Saddle’ (last aid station) to the finish line is about 5 miles or so.

Everyone was muddy and tired. The finish line was really looking good at this point. I’d slipped and gone down in the mud at least 3 times. I was an unharmed, total mud ball head to toe. 🙂

Josh knew my not-talking-about-it-goal. I could see him assessing the situation. He knew we were in a race against the clock to break 8 hours.  We were appropriately tired, but totally healthy.  We COULD pull it off, if we picked up the pace.

I knew it.

I was just pretending to ignore it.

A portion of my brain was totally fine with not finding that goal.

To hit that goal would mean that we would have to run consistently and fairly hard for the remainder of the course.

That’s a lot of hard work at the end of a whole lot of hard work.

It had been a day of huge wins ALREADY. I didn’t even have to cross the finish line to have felt like the day was a smashing success.

But as I was starting to push the edges, with Josh speeding up, my brain was busy trying to convince me that we just didn’t need to put in the extra effort to hit that goal…

‘Bets. Just walk.

You’re going to finish close to last year’s time anyway. Close is good.

It’s fine to ease back now, Spencer and Josh and Wendie are still going to be proud of you no matter what.

This was a tough course. Take it easy. You’ve earned easy.

Just being out here is enough.’

I recognized that my head and her subtly negative voices were trying to shut things down.

‘Head’ management is very much part of the training for ultras. You literally have to practice making sure your head doesn’t talk you out of completing what needs to be done.

This is always scary and fascinating to me. Sometimes my brain drags out ‘the big guns’ and I really have to fight to just keep breathing and moving.  This time – since this race was essentially a practice run and I was surrounded by friends I trusted deeply – I decided I would just watch and see what demon/trick/weapon my head was going to try to drag out into the light…

My brain went straight for it’s old friend laziness.

‘Take it easy, you’ve earned easy. There’s no harm in just walking at this point…’

I have had years of practice being lazy. Honestly, it’s the natural go to for me.  And at this point in the race – 26ish miles in – my legs and back were screaming for me to just. stop. running.  My belly wasn’t thrilled.  My feet hurt.  I had these OBNOXIOUS and painful adductor cramps violently grabbing hold of my upper, inner thigh – and stopping me dead in my tracks a few times.

My body was doing it’s part to try to stop me.

My brain just joined in on the chorus.

I’ve done a few races at this distance, so I can now say that I have been here before in some form or fashion. This is the point where I simply have to buckle down and keep moving forward as best I can. And I have all kinds of tricks stashed away to IGNORE or quiet the chatter in my head that isn’t productive or healthy or nice. I usually just kind of blank out without fully defining whatever weapon my brain has chosen, count steps, breathe, and try my best to ignore whatever tricks my head is playing.

But this time I instantly recognized laziness.

And it was really pretty cool to define it, understand it and then just accept it for what it is.

I didn’t bother trying to evict or ignore the thoughts.

I sure as hell didn’t give into it.

I just decided to run with it – and tire it out.

Here’s where my thinking went…  When I’m on a training run – and my coach has given me parameters – I always go straight for the middle or low end of whatever it is that I’m being told to work on. Unless specifically told to do so, I rarely push to the outer, upper  edges or beyond in training on my own.

It’s a subtle, persistent form of laziness.

I mean training to run ultras is hard work in and of itself.  I’ve done a lot of hard work to get to this point and lose weight and reverse T2 diabetes. So does it really matter that I’m just a tad bit lazy about some aspects of training?

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Camera covered in mud and rain. Josh pushed me to give my all in the last 5 miles. I mighta, sorta threatened to throat punch him at one point.  Re-enactment at the finish line. 🙂

To be clear – I’m not being hard on myself or beating myself up.

I ran a freaking great run.

And this ‘work’ going on in my head around battling and understanding laziness was fantastic and constructive.

I ultimately kept on Josh and Wendie’s heels and PUSHED hard to the finish. I put down faster miles at the end than I had most of the day.

I’m just acknowledging that I recognized the voice screaming in my head as my long-lost, best-forgotten, crappy ex-best friend named laziness.

And I decided that I don’t want to be friends anymore.

So I just ran away. 🙂

I ignored the normal long-run pains and tiredness and just PUSHED hard to the finish. My training allows for that. My body was working her butt off. And this really was a training run – so why not PUSH hard and see what happened?

As I ran, in the back of my head the idea was clanging around that I am SO FREAKING CAPABLE of being and doing so much more.

If I’m given the chance to push hard, do I always give it my all? Or do I get lazy?

It’s an idea that I just can’t let go of…

What exactly would I be capable of, if I refused to let laziness win?

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I got home and Spencer and I were debriefing the race.  I walked through the pieces that went great; fuel, shoes, handling the wicked leg cramps.  Spencer and I both agreed that we could clearly see the core and strength work we’re doing with Jordan paying off as I was able to manage the slides and the muddy, steep terrain really well.  And then I ran faster miles at the end…

I was really proud of the effort I gave at Mac.  I’d had a good day.

I also told him that I recognize I get lazy in some of the targeted training runs during a training cycle. I cheat myself and aim for good enough/middle of the road. By doing what I’m told – instead of really testing the limits. I told Spencer I was going to work on learning to push myself harder when given the choice. I confessed that I know that I  sometimes let myself off the hook when I really should be capitalizing on the opportunity to push to another level.

The last few miles of the Mac I kept thinking…

I’ve come so far and I’m more in love with trail running and my body is doing things I never, ever thought she was capable of. And I know without a doubt that I am capable of still more strength and more growth and more change and well… just more good stuff.

Laziness isn’t going to win this race. Not this time. I’m going to keep training to out run it.

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My friend and pacer Wendie.

 

 

Docking the boat.

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 4 Comments
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I walked miles.  Each day.

End of an amazing, epic adventure!

As I sit in the airport waiting for the flight home — I still feel the rocking motion of the boat.  I’m told this is a phenomenon called ‘Jimmy Legs’. 🙂

I’m soaking in the memories of the experience and the bittersweet feelings of saying goodbyes with new friends.

Yet I am finally headed home.

Such a wonderful mix of feelings…

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I spent a LOT of time in my bathing suit. 🙂  I was either ‘sweating (walking) or swimming.’ most of the time on days that we were at sea.

I spent a lot of time sitting by the pool (saltwater pool!) working on this blog. I was slathered in sun screen since I skimped on ‘solar cream’ on day one and seriously sunburned my rear-end…

Lesson quickly learned. 🙂

This whole experience?

An incredible gift.

We’ll start with the short version…

I stayed active. Made the best food choices I could given the situation. I’m thrilled I was entrusted with this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity from my university. I met some incredible friends.  I’m so happy to be headed home.

Win, win, win!

The longer version?

I came on this cruise intent on doing the best job I could for OSU and also to work on testing my lifestyle in a new environment.

You’ll recall that I shared in my previous blog that I was worried about gaining weight, getting lazy and going bezerk with the unlimited food.

I really wound up learning/re-learning some critical life lessons.

I realized about three days in that there was a massive amount of accumulated life wisdom on this boat regarding health, wellness, business, adventure, relationships….  So I shut up. Listened intentionally. Observed. And tried to ask some good questions when I had someone’s ears.

Here’s my top ‘lesson’ list straight from my journal:

Age is simply number.  There were 55 year olds who are marching steadily toward the grave with an attitude of having given up.  There were 85 year olds kicking up their heels, laughing, having the time of their lives with each of the days they have left. Age is only a number.

Size matters. European food portions were served on this ship. Not American super-sized versions of portions.  There was a dazzling array of foods — at seemingly all hours.  Elegant and intentional presentations. Food and the dining experience was treated with respect and care.

Size REALLY matters.  Again, this is a European ship. Smaller towels, smaller showers, smaller chairs.  It is built for a non-obese/normal weight population.  A large (pardon the sad pun) portion of the inhabitants of this ship were overweight or obese. They struggled with some of the accommodations.  Watching their struggles served as a good reminder for me. The old me, 392 pounds, wouldn’t have fit in my shower stall in my room. Likely wouldn’t have been able to use the commode that was wedged into a tight corner.  I couldn’t have sat in the dining room chairs, worn the luxury robes provided and would not have been able to share a stairwell with anyone. That’s just naming a few of the reminders I saw that put my old and new lives in perspective.

Friends. Friends are where you make them and where you take them.

Accountability. I found new friends on the boat who quickly and happily agreed to being accountability partners. Meeting for walks/stretching/running, grabbing extra ice waters and focusing on great conversations; not on food. I shared my goals and ideas — they shared theirs!

Kindness knows no language.

Listen.  Two ears, one mouth.  I listened a lot on this ship.  Heard incredible stories of strength and determination and heartbreak.  I consciously tried to make sure I walked away from a conversation having listened more than I talked.  I mean, I know I talk. A lot. And I recognize that it’s a bad habit. This ship was good practice for me to re-learn the value of listening.

Drink water.  The older runners on board make plenty of water a daily habit.  Sparkling eyes, great skin, general good health. They were laughing at me when I finally strung together all of their advice and told them the only thing I could find in common with all of them was that they wouldn’t give-up, had worked to make sure running stayed a habit in their lives and they drank plenty of water. Everything else they suggested/lectured me about was a wildly mixed bag of contradictory advice.

Blowing a snot rocket on the boat deck is a) not acceptable or appreciated and b) super tricky with cross winds. 🙂

Rest.  I got great advice from a guy named George on day 12 of this adventure.  He had my number as far as my cheerleader/extrovert/go-go-go personality.  He said ‘Take ‘me’ time for you. Rest, recharge your emotional self.  Not just your body. Or you’ll crash.’  And MAN WAS HE RIGHT!  That sounds crazy given that I was on a luxury cruise ship in the middle of the ocean.  And resting and relaxing is like ninja-expert-professional level sport.  BUT I hadn’t been resting or relaxing for me…  So I took a day and slept in.  Hard.  Woke up after about 14 hours of sleep.  Ate a good food.  Worked on this blog.  Just kind of ‘hid’ and took care of myself all day long. Even extroverts need some quiet time now and again.

Routine.  Routines are powerful.  I spent time thinking about whether the routines I have created were being used for good/health or comfort/excuses/control. 🙂  Shaking up my routine has helped me evaluate those elements that I want to embrace and those that perhaps weren’t serving me best after all.

Be present. So hard for me to remember. But I had plenty of time to practice breathing and enjoying only what was in front of me.

This time on a ship was good for me to realize I can stay active and make smart food choices.  It did NOT look at all like the activity and food that would be my ’norm’ back home, and it honestly took me about 8-10 days to be OK with that.

I kept portions under control. I took stairs. I drank water. I mostly stayed away from the desserts (Fresh sorbets… Man. They were amazing!). I kept the focus on people and good conversations instead of food. By the time we docked, I knew every nook and cranny of that 1/13th of a mile track on the top of the ship. 🙂

I am reminded that I really do have the best of both worlds.

I loved this trip, new friends, the countries, the Panama Canal crossing, the fire-testing of my lifestyle in a totally new environment.

And yet I am thrilled and excited to be heading home to my family, friends, healthy foods, trails.

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!

 

 

 

It is NOT the whole story…

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 6 Comments
Betsy in sun
Running into the sun, on trails, with friends…

I was just telling Spencer and one of our mentors, Shawna, recently that I wish I could re-write an article about me that was in Runner’s World Magazine. It talks about my weight loss/type 2 diabetes transformation.  It is answering the question ‘How running changed my life’. (Here is the Runners World Article)

I wasn’t even aware they were doing the profile. The first time it appeared I freaked out. Just a little. More than a year later and the story keeps popping up. It is AWESOME!  I get a total thrill/shock every single time I am scrolling through a feed on Facebook or Instagram and see my picture. 🙂

But I also cringe a little every single time it re-appears. Cringe?  WHY?!  Well… It misses the stories about the people that are very much a part of this whole adventure and the moments that make my heart sing and some of the things no one really wants to talk about.

 

Given the chance, I really would like to add/edit/re-write that story to make it a little more complete. Here’s what I would add, here are some of the key additions I would want people to know…

There are people who walked every single step of this journey with me. They believed in me when I embarked on this crazy, huge, scary lifestyle overhaul. I had proved to all of them that I was really, really good at failing at diets. I have a life-time worth of experience at failing at diets.  They stuck with me anyway.

My running coach, Spencer, is the one person who has put up with untold amounts of sass and tears and freaking-ridiculous-questions as I continue to learn to run. Spencer has watched each mile build into more miles and bigger goals and even bigger dreams.

My running and training partners. The ones who meet me at o’dark thirty.  In the rain.  With smiles and headlamps and laughter and patience.  The ones who encourage shenanigans.  The ones who helped me learn how to pee in the woods – and not get caught or get poison oak. 🙂  The ones who encourage me to sign up for crazy-ass distances for the fun/adventure/epicness of it – just to help me test my boundaries.  The ones who spend their vacation time traveling to a race to run some of the late-stage miles with you to make sure your butt crosses that finish line.

Kyle at Gallagher’s in Salem.  Kyle fit me into my first ‘real’ walking shoes when I was finally down to 280 pounds, registering for a walking marathon and had finally scrounged up every last ounce of courage I had to walk into a ‘real running’ store. Kyle was kind and helpful and never once acted like I didn’t belong in their store. Never. I still buy my shoes at Gallagher’s.  I went in to see him today as a matter of fact.

They didn’t talk about how much I hated.  hated.  hated.  those first few tentative steps that were trying to learn to run.  How embarrassed I was and mortified at the thought one of my neighbors would see my 250 pounds bouncing along with my face a charming shade of ‘heart-attack red’.  Or how I was breathing so hard I genuinely felt like I was going to throw up. And yet even as hard as it was, I oddly and intuitively knew I could not give up. I had to keep trying to put one foot in front of the other no matter what anyone thought. This was the make-it-or-break-it point.

They didn’t talk about how hard I worked for and how much I cherished some of the first days I ran without those extra 10 pounds of skin hanging around my belly.  Or how months later when I was all healed Josh and Wendie went for a run with me in Bend (3+ hours from home), on isolated trails, so I would feel comfortable stripping down to just shorts and my sports bra to go for a run.  That ‘shorts and sports bra’ dream was hatched the very first time I ever went to a race and saw women running comfortably and carefree in next to nothing. I on the other hand was carefully and strategically covered in head-to-toe compression gear just to keep my extra skin on my belly from gaining unstoppable momentum and beating me to death.  I ran that day with josh and wendie in just shorts and sports bra.  I felt the sun on my belly.  And the sun on my mid-back.  And I was running on world-class trails. With cherished and trusted friends who knew what this meant to me.  I felt free, brave, happy – and comfortable in my own skin for the first time in a long time.

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Just a sports bra.  Oh.  And shorts.  I have on shorts. I promise.

They didn’t talk about how when I finally ran one full mile without stopping I bawled like a baby out of pure joy and quickly called my friend Wade to tell him… I HAD DONE IT!!  (Bets!  QUIT YELLING IN THE PHONE!)  I was hooked at that moment on asking my body to try to do more… I knew in that moment that my body was strong and my mind could be my biggest weapon if I wanted to work on them both…  🙂  Could I do a mile and half?  Could I possibly run a 5K at some point?  What else could I do?  What else in life had I missed out on because I had been obese and immobile?  Oh my heavens…  I felt like the doors to the whole-wide-world were finally opening and I was getting to run though them…

They really didn’t tell the whole story.

They didn’t tell my favorite parts of my story. 🙂

And maybe that’s good.

I mean, my story isn’t over.

Not by a long shot.

I’m still really busy writing it.

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Signing up for the 100 miler.  Happy and excited and realizing I get to live my dreams…