mega weight loss

Jogging my memory…

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

I’m in Ontario, Oregon for work today.

(I have the best job on the planet.)

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

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

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

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

But I do remember.  Here’s why…

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

It ended in an ER.

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

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

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

The nurses seemed to know what the problem was…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A decade can make a world of difference. 🙂

What a ride…

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 5 Comments

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

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

What did I have to ‘get done’?

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

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

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

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

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

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

What have I learned? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Faux fears and the next big thing…

~ betsyhartley392 ~ Leave a comment
IMG_6340
Happy chance meeting! Finding friends on the trails. Out for various training runs. (L-R, Brandon, Laura (holding Patch), Drew, Spencer, me, Ana Lu and Carlos)

My favorite question?

‘What’s the next big event/race/running thing you have planned?’

First?  I LOVE talking about running and moving and being healthy. Anyone’s running, anyone’s passion for activity, anyone’s healthy. 🙂

Second?  I totally get a kick out of people associating me with running. Totally.  It will never get old.  For the longest time I denied it; I knew runner-runners.  Like, you know — the fast, sleek, athletic people?; it was not me. And that’s ALL I thought running was.  Now?  I realize the world of running accommodates anyone. Anyone.  If you put on shoes with the intent of going for a run; you’re a runner. I LOVE being able to identify with this group of diverse, brave, determined people.

I was at a gala this past week and talking with people I only see periodically.  We were having great conversations about life!  They all eventually asked me what’s up next event-wise.

‘So what crazy run do you have next?’

I answered the questions about a dozen times.

And that repetition of my own answer got me thinking…

The running and training that I do is not entirely for events.

Really.

If I strip it down and examine the whole process and my motivation/desire…  It’s not really for the events at all.  I wanted to tell them about some of the other great things I’m doing that aren’t event related…  Like trying to learn to swim.  Finding new trails. Finally figuring out fueling.

Don’t get me wrong.  I love events.  I’m a people person. OF course I like the event portion of this whole process. The event is really the celebration, the party!  The culmination of months of training and running and miles and learning should be celebrated.

And while I am not doing races to be competitive, I care DEEPLY and totally about doing my best and being as prepared as possible.  I’m doing events and races to meet people, have fun, see new terrain, challenge myself to a new adventure and test my limits/strength.

So then why exactly do I train and spend hours each week running/biking and working out if it isn’t to go to races?

I’ll let you peek at my current goals…

  • To be fit. (Fit feels so, so DAMN good.)
  • Enjoy ALL of the life that I have left to live.
  • Be ready for the next grand adventure.
  • I don’t want my fitness (or lack of…) to stand in the way of life.  At all.  It did.  For too many YEARS.  No more.

That list above, that is why I run and train and work on getting fit.

It really isn’t as simple or straightforward as just being ready for the ‘next big thing’.

Unless that next big thing is LIFE. 🙂

I’ve been picking harder and more robust challenges for the last two years.  I mean, I have been working hard and staying focused and building up to them.  They are challenges that terrify and fascinate me all in the same breath.  50K, learning to swim, 50 miles and beyond…

Part of the reason I keep picking bigger and bigger things to train for is pretty simple and obvious if you think about it…

I’m afraid.

I made a deal with myself almost 4 years ago that I would force myself to give anything that I thought I was afraid of (that wasn’t illegal, immoral or just super-dangerous…) a shot.

I wanted to see if I could teach myself to get over the fear. Feel the fear and do it anyway.  Trite saying; but at the same time a very true operating statement.  Could I face fears and go around/over them?

I wanted to form reality-based opinions of my own, not continue to be bound by the perceived boundaries of the past-me.

The answers to this point have been yes… I can (mostly) get over/around/beat-down the fear and get it done.  It may not be pretty, or well-done or even particularly smart.  In a few cases it left scars. 🙂

AND I am having a HELL of a lot of fun doing it!!!

I need to remind myself of all of that.

I need to remember just how much work I have done to get to this point, how many fears I’ve conquered…

A good friend recently called me out on my ‘fearful’ attitude.  I thought I had pretty much pushed fear to the edges of my life – and I thought it would stay there.  Turns out that fear is tenacious and strong-willed. (Sounds like me. 🙂 )  Trepidation, lack of confidence, self doubt, negativity; call it what you want — seems to be trying to creep back in…

The tell tale warning sign?  (this took me about two weeks to key-in on and discern…) I realized that when I am nervous about something, afraid or embarrassed that I might fail — I start a conversation with one simple word;

‘But…’

I’ve been catching myself using that sentence starter quite a few times these past few months.

‘But’ negates the entire comment.  It tells the listener that they don’t really have to believe anything you’re saying… Because YOU don’t really believe it yourself…

I have to kick the ‘but’s’ back out of my thinking and language.

Tackling fears is NOT linear or simple.  Nor is it ever a completed task. And that’s the lesson I’m working on learning.

There is the legit fear that we have to heed to stay alive and safe.

This isn’t that fear.

This is the fear that we allow to creep in at the edges, create boundaries, limit our work/dreams/goals and cripple our thinking.

I’m calling it my ‘faux fear’.

I am going to keep working, one step at a time, to show my faux fears the door…

What fears are you working to conquer?

‘Can’t you just eat less?’

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 1 Comment
photo[1]
392+ pounds. Newly diagnosed as T2 and fully medicated. Size 32 dress, still had to have panels sewn in so it would fit…

This blog is for the women who I met at the Diabetes Expo last month. They asked me to address the ‘publicness’ of obesity…

Being obese I have, at times, been treated like my weight issue was open for public discussion and comment just because people could see it.

I mean, there is no hiding 392 pounds.

I recently had a discussion with a group of women at a diabetes expo where I was speaking. We were talking about comments and ‘helpful remarks’ others, including loved ones, make.  We all agreed that intentionally, unintentionally, pointedly; comments relating to food and diabetes and weight simply fuel shame and lack of confidence and fears…

Not one time, regardless of the speaker or the intent, did we ever find those comments truly helpful or motivating.

We all had stories.

We all agreed that shame can paralyze you.

This stuff HURTS.  And we, the obese, have no real way to hide. Because people can see our bulk, it seems to mean we’re fair game for comments and criticism and remarks.

It’s an emotionally vicious cycle.

‘Can’t you just eat less?’

‘You’ll never get married/date/be happy if you don’t lose weight.’

‘Don’t you wish you were normal sized?’

‘Should you be eating that…?’

‘Don’t you love your family enough to be healthy?’

I remember exactly who made those comments to me, when they happened. With clarity. I remember how I BURNED with shame for days/weeks. How my self-confidence would hit bottom and start digging an even deeper hole…

When lobed one of those questions or comments I usually tried to smile and say something generic like ‘thank you… mumble… mumble…’ The goal was always to get out of the situation posthaste.

Ashamed and sad and hurt.

Shame and lack of self confidence seem to go hand in hand for me.  (I know they are NOT the same, but they sure tend to show up together.)

I ALWAYS responded by placating my wounded soul and emotions with food. Food was how I managed, buried shame. Food was my stalwart comfort and companion during these episodes.

You might be thinking that those are mean, thoughtless, careless things for someone to say. Or maybe just plain rude.

BUT here is the catch…

If I am being totally honest…

I was THINKING those exact same things about MYSELF.

If they were just being mean you could actually brush it off a little easier. BUT when you, yourself, think it, believe it, own it…

And then someone says it OUT LOUD…

Shame comes barreling through the door.  And lack of self confidence strolls in right behind her…

With cake in hand.

I wish I could tell you how I corralled shame, fought it. How I don’t wrestle with lack of confidence anymore. I don’t really have a good, clear answer just yet.  I’m still working on all of it.

But I’ve been really thinking about MY shame/food/weight/confidence issues since talking to those women a few weeks ago. Here’s what I’ve been thinking about… For me, at some point, things tipped and shame no longer DROVE what I did…  Or what I did NOT do.  It was still there, for sure, but I could shut it up for periods of time. I FINALLY reached a point in my life where I wanted to LIVE more than I was afraid of what I would have to do to reclaim and save my life. I was ready to change. Everything. I knew things could be totally different than they were.  I knew it would be excruciatingly lonely, hard work.

But this time around I knew all of that and was STILL ready to do the work. EVERY other emotion or fear or thought – even shame – was edged out by that intense readiness.

The whole lifestyle shift I embarked on became a black and white, life and death issue for me.  And I purposefully kept my thinking along those lines… It wasn’t confidence.  It was fear and blind bravery. I really didn’t do anything knowingly or strategically to battle shame directly. I just got busy discovering and starting to tear-apart some of the basic issues. I was finally working to get honest about WHY I was obese so I could figure out how to ‘solve’ the issue once and for all.

I was vulnerable.  Big time. By choice.  I knew if I was not hiding something, it could not be used against me.  I would not be able to use it against myself either. (That may not make sense to everyone…)

Even if it was something as publicly visible as weighing 392 pounds.

So what about now?

The growth that I’m proudest of?

The growth I talked to those women about at the Diabetes Expo???

In those horrible moments when I feel ashamed or someone is mean or confrontational or says something that jabs at who I think I am/who I want to be; I NO LONGER reach for food.

I mean, yeah… It takes ALL I HAVE IN ME not to grab food for comfort and confidence. Even now. Almost 4 years into this adventure.

BUT the difference NOW, no matter what strikes me emotionally; I do NOT reach for food. I breath. I go for a walk. I talk to a friend. I listen to some music. I pray. I think about why I’m reacting… I do lots of things to soothe my soul, gather up my confidence and let shame walk RIGHT back out the door…

None of my new coping mechanisms involve food.  I have been careful to build a ‘tool kit’ of skills that don’t involve food.

This is a key habit that I have to keep strengthening and practicing.

I think it was Madeye Moody in one of the Harry Potter books that would preach ‘Constant Vigilance!’

Well said.

How do you ‘soothe your soul’ without using food? 

Snacks. (Unsexy, not-very-cool, but my favorite new lifestyle habit…)

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 9 Comments

FullSizeRender

I don’t really go anywhere without having a snack handy these days.  It’s one of the habits that keeps my new lifestyle habits cemented and in focus.

I can be relied upon to dig up at least 200 calories from the bottom of my purse, a pocket in my gym bag or the stash I keep in my desk at work.  An apple, a healthy snack bar of some sort, a small bag of nuts…

This is actually a habit I learned as a T2 diabetic.

If a low hit – and they did, often – I had to be able to help myself.

I was on a pharmacy of medications (Lantus, Byetta, Metformin) and there was no real way to predict when a low would hit. I always had something glucose based (juice box, glucose tabs, candy) ready to go… This ‘snack carrying’ habit wasn’t about health – it was simply about blood glucose manipulation and management.

It only took ONE time of heading FAST into a low and NOT having glucose to help myself stop the downward spiral for ‘carrying a snack’ to become an ironclad habit.

But now?

Now I carry snacks for a totally different reason.

Maintaining my weight AND my healthy eating habits requires me to keep a certain level of commitment to making sure I have what I need and that I keep practicing the good habits.

And let’s be honest… This wasn’t and isn’t just about healthy eating.

This ‘new habit’ is also about battling a really old, profoundly strong and unhealthy habit…

Making excuses.

I was really, really good at making excuses…

To not prepare and plan ahead for those times when I am hungry, forces me to rely on others or surrounding circumstances.  For me; that became a built-in excuse for eating like ‘crap’.  License to go wild.  Permission to just eat whatever happened to be available.

It’s an EXCUSE… Not packing a snack to help myself manage my food and LIFE goals is simply a big FAT EXCUSE…  Carry a snack removes that excuse.

I used that excuse ALL the time. At one point in my life I was flying weekly for work.  I saw every trip to the airport and every day spent away from home on a business trip as an excuse to eat whatever I wanted; this was an adventure and a ‘special occasion’ after all!  Weekly… I traveled weekly.  Did you catch that part? (No wonder I weighed 392 pounds…)

So now, NOW, I pack snacks.

It’s a cross between a hobby, an obsession and self-defense.

I take it very seriously.

I don’t want to lose my foothold in and passion for this new healthy lifestyle.

It’s a pretty simple and easy trick.  Decidedly unsexy. Boring.  But it works for me.

A healthy snack within arms reach removes excuses. It keeps me in control. It helps me stay focused daily on my food, weight, lifestyle goals.

What’s your favorite easy/healthy snack to tote along?! 

Forced.

~ betsyhartley392 ~ Leave a comment
IMG_7762
Mary, Thomas, Joe, Shannon and Miriam… BOSTON MARATHON elite and energetic cheer leading crew! 🙂

I have been thinking a lot about the idea of running TO something vs. running FROM something.

This basic theme keeps cropping up and brushing at the fringes of recent conversations.

I flew to Boston to cheer for friends running THE BOSTON MARATHON this past weekend. (Hannah, Wade, Ana Lu and Spencer’s friend Matt – ALL ran their first Boston!)

Flying is fun for me. Especially now that I don’t need a seat belt extender. 🙂

I’m an extrovert. I love to talk to people. I think everyone I meet can possibly become a friend.

I’ve met some phenomenal people by striking up random conversations, heard amazing life stories and made new friends.

This trip was no exception.

I was on planes FULL of runners! Everyone was excited, lots of chatter about running.

Conversations about running usually start with ‘how did you get started with running?’ or ‘how long have you been running?’. I can now tell my running story in a few short sentences…

“I used to weigh close to 400 pounds. I’ve lost 220 pounds. I was type 2 diabetic, taking three shots a day less than four years ago. Eating less and learning to run have very literally saved my life.’

I got asked twice on this trip ‘what forced me to finally change my life?’

People usually ask me the same question using phrases like ‘what made you…’, ‘what drove you…’ or ‘why did you finally decide…’

This time they used the word force. I feel that ‘force’ is an odd word to use in regards to personal changes. So when I walked away, I thought about why the use of the word ‘force’, in a casual conversation, was irritating me.

‘Force’ is a negative word.

But I knew that wasn’t all that was bugging me.

I thought about it over the next two days. What I started to discern was related threads of a life-long pattern: Any time I have ever failed at anything or given up or decided I didn’t want to do something — it was because there was an element of being ‘forced’.

Meaning…

It was someone else’s idea about what/how I should be eating.

I was not buying into the idea at all. (‘I don’t believe in myself’ could be inserted here…)

I was afraid, defeated and/or desperate. (Not a choice, a lack of options…)

A key differences this time around? This has all been MY CHOICE. 

I was ready to fight and I was feeling brave.

I was RUNNING TOWARD something.  I wasn’t fleeing. I wasn’t running away. I wasn’t being forced.

This has all been my decision. I want it. I work at it every day. 

Reversing Type 2. Losing weight. Running. Finding a way to stay healthy for the rest of my life. 

I wanted this change more than anything I have ever wanted in my entire life.

I also realized that I was slightly offended that someone would think someone/something else was actually, or specifically negatively, to credit for all of my hard work.

Forcing someone to do something is NOT a recipe for long-term success.  We all know that… Right?

I lucked into a great conversation with some women at the airport, post-marathon. Three of them had run the marathon, two of us had not. They asked us what kind of running we did; and quickly and generously brought us into their conversation.

After talking about times/paces/the course, the conversation went to funny signs, grossest porta-potties, weirdest running attire, best shirts, supportive volunteers.  The funny and incredible stories that a large event brings to the surface!

Talk moved to coaches and the process of how you go about getting ready for a really big event. All of us had coaches. We talked about the positive impact of preparing for a big event with someone by your side the entire time who cares about your safety and growth and goals. Lots of laughter and eye rolls and stories about how our coaches individually torture us in their own ways.

We all acknowledged that our coaches had more belief in who we were and what we could do than we had in ourselves at points and times. And that running was actually only a small part of what they are actually teaching us.

We talked about training. Training is what makes you into the athlete.  The ‘event’ is the celebration, the party!  You have done the WORK, put in the hours and learned a lot about yourself during training. The event is where you put it all together and see it in action!

Training is the process that makes you, builds you.

I had mostly figured out why ‘force’ bugged me.  But it seemed related to the bigger idea of running to/from something… So I spent time on the first leg of the flight home thinking about why I run and train.

Training and running for me is entirely about moving TOWARD something.

It’s really that simple.

I am not running FROM anything. Learning to run wasn’t someone elses idea. Even when Spencer gives me ridiculous hill repeats and I know I’ll hate that specific workout; its still ME choosing each day to use running as a process to stay healthy.

Even in the very beginning of this crazy odyssey to learn to run, I wholeheartedly accepted and appreciated that everything (even the really hard stuff!) was part of the process of moving toward a place I really, really wanted to be.

‘Force’ is the not the right word. Not at all.  I don’t like it. I’m sticking ‘force’ in the same category as ‘have to’ and ‘can’t’.

But it served as a great catalyst to frame my thinking about some things that really needed to be considered in greater detail.

It helped me get crystal clear about the fact that I am literally and figuratively running TOWARD a whole bunch of really great stuff!

What are you running toward?!

Can’t.

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 4 Comments
10548068_10203606716399726_5395415611294271666_o
‘It’s a lifestyle, it’s a choice. ‘ — Wade  (Pacific Crest Endurance Triathlon/Duathlon 2014)

I can’t eat that. It’s not on my diet.

As soon as you utter those words, someone will instantly search for a way to ‘help’ you get around the ‘can’t’.

Can’t means restrictions, deprivations.

It means something is unfair or that you MUST be unhappy.

Can’t is a signal word that others respond to, usually in a sympathetic or negative way.  They want to fight for you, convince you otherwise, remove the barrier…

‘Quit saying you can’t. 

Quit saying it’s a diet.

It’s a lifestyle, it’s a choice.

Quit feeling like you have to defend your choices to everyone. It’s none of their business.’ — Wade

One of the biggest AH-HA! moments for me was when I finally HEARD what Wade was telling me.

I started practicing and learning NOT to defend or explain. I worked on believing in and stating my choices.

I started trying to help others understand I wasn’t being defensive simply by intentionally choosing different words to talk about my relationship with food…

Words.  Who knew? 🙂

When I’m at an event and have limited choices, or I’m being offered cake (trigger food of all trigger foods for me…) or I’m fueling very carefully for a race/event…

I say…

Thanks! I’m choosing not to eat that right now…

So far, in the last 18 months of my word experiment; no one has really argued with me.  When I said ‘can’t’ — people argued with me, questioned me all the time.

Seriously. 🙂

Now they respond with something like ‘OK! It’s over here/there if you change your mind.’  Or ‘can I get you something else?’

The conversation is totally different.

They don’t pressure me, they don’t fight my CHOICE, they don’t try to convince me otherwise.  They seem to simply respect that I am doing what I WANT to do.

SUCH a magic trick!

And it ONLY takes words!

‘Can’t’ and ‘have to’… Or ‘my choice’ and ‘get to’…

Which conversation would you rather be in?

image1
BTW — the dude in the middle is Wade. And he’s running the Boston Marathon this coming Monday. GO WADE!

Baby steps.

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 3 Comments
IMG_2034
Liz. 22 years of friendship and adventures.  More to come. Ditto, my friend.

I was eavesdropping on a conversation Friday between two women encouraging each other to be more active. They kept gently reminding each other not to get overwhelmed with the big picture; ‘start small’ they kept telling each other. They were casting around for ideas on how exactly to start with something they could do now, maintain, enjoy and build on…

They got rolling with some great ideas…

I really enjoyed their conversation. And TOTALLY had to fight the urge to just jump in uninvited! 🙂

Think about watching a child learning to walk….

They crawl. They pull themselves up on things so they can stand, assisted. Then they attempt to let go… Halting, uncertain, determined focus.  Throw in a few temper tantrums. Plenty of falling down and getting back up. Countless failed attempts.

BUT, they will NOT give up.

Then ONE step finally leads to two and… before you know it… they’re off and running with abandon. 🙂

Liz, one of my best friends, sent me this note, when I asked her for some feedback on my blog.

“You told me you got started with more exercise just by parking far away at work.

I think that’s a fantastic tip/story for your readers. Where did you get the idea? How many more steps did you get in?

You’ve come a long way from getting your exercise by walking to your car.

Show your readers just how slow you started.

Baby steps.” — Liz

Three and half years ago I was taking lots of baby steps.

They genuinely felt like HUGE, monster steps to me! But they were actually just the right/bite-sized pieces needed to get to the much bigger goal.

I was down to 285 pounds from a high of 392.  I was taking 3 shots a day.  Handfuls of pills.  Walking in from my car to my desk took genuine effort. To change all of that; I knew I had to take ALL of that stuff and break it down into small, tiny, manageable, must-not-panic-and-quit pieces. It was the only way I was ever going to get started with building a healthy lifestyle and being active.

So what were some of the first and small steps I took towards moving more?

  • I parked farther away from my office.  Grocery store.  Mall.  I no longer took the closest parking spots.
  • I took the stairs EVEN when if it meant I showed up to a meeting with a sweaty head, red face and gasping for air.  (I carried baby wipes and a bandana in my bag.  No excuses.)
  • I wore a pedometer every day and tried to hit 5,000 steps. Then 10,000. Then 15,000.
  • I put on workout clothes and went for walks on purpose at least 3 days a week ON TOP of the 10,000 steps.
  • I picked meeting spots that were as far away from my office as possible so I was required to walk.  Given that I tend to cut timing close — it meant it was always a ‘brisk’ walk. 🙂
  • I turned lunches/coffee meetings into walking meetings with willing and understanding coworkers.

Baby steps.  Adding on a just a little at a time.

I often get asked how long my first run was – what was ‘my starting mileage’. I ALWAYS start by explaining that I walked for years.  Literally.  I walked.  A lot.  I walked faster, walked farther — I worked on walking before I ever tried to run a step.  And when I ran?  I wanted to be able to run between telephone poles.  I made it across a driveway.  My starting mileage was FEET.  And I was PROUD OF THAT!  (Still am to be honest!)

I abso-freaking-lutely walked a TON before I ever, ever tried to run.

Baby steps is what this whole adventure is really about. 🙂

What baby steps did you take when you were teaching yourself to make exercise a habit?!

IMG_5432
Liz’s wedding to Andy! SUCH a happy and fun day!

Drawstrings.

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 4 Comments
us2Xda0KFCqTBgZYd0yo-3yYCzYVYFU7SVUbcB-ozzw
Ok… Maybe not THIS baggy. 🙂

I really like to wear baggy clothes.

Yes.  I hid in them as a fat woman. Positive extra material would totally camouflage my obesity and no one could actually see just how big I was…

Yes.  As I was losing weight it was a cool reminder through the day that the clothes were big and getting bigger. Positive re-enforcement of a sort.

Yes.  I still have a bit of a distortion about what my body really looks like. I was a size 26/28 or 4X.  I’m now about a size 8 or 10 or Large.  Left on my own, I will happily buy size 12 and XL. 🙂

But all of the above means I frequently buy things too big.

As I was losing weight, I would wait for things to be 2 sizes too big, and make it work as long as I could…  Maybe 3 sizes if they had a drawstring or belt loops…  I don’t have an unlimited clothing budget.  And I like wearing baggy clothes.  I was in no hurry.

At work one time I had to bunch up the waistband of my pants and use an office binder clip to hold them up for the day. Even I could tell they were too big for me. (In my defense; I had NOT tried them on before throwing them in my gym bag, for the day, they were ALL I had…  Tacky. I know. But you do what you have to do. 🙂 )

Then one day, recently, I discovered a strong preference for pants with drawstrings.

And a stark reminder that maybe finding clothes that actually fit might be a good idea…

Let me explain.

My friend Hannah kept telling me ‘Bets, your pants are too loose. They look like they’re going to fall off…’

(Cue music….)

I would insist they fit JUST FINE thankyouverymuch and continued to wear them for weeks.

Man.  I was about to find out how right Hannah was.  And how wrong I was.

I was talking to one of our male senior administrators one day at work, in the halls of our building.

And suddenly felt a draft…

A draft where there really should not have been air during the work hours.  Or maybe there shouldn’t be a draft there at any point… Anyway….

Pants.

Holy smokes.

With NO WARNING whatsoever those suckers fell straight to my ankles.

ALL THE WAY TO THE GROUND.

MERCIFULLY a few things happened at the same time….

This senior level administrator, while having a great sense of humor, also has fairly poor eyesight and happened to be looking down at a printed email I had just handed him…

I was wearing a long shirt. (And underwear!)

And in a normally busy classroom building on a college campus — there was oddly, NO ONE else in the halls.

I suddenly developed catlike reflexes and retrieved my pants from around my ankles and then proceeded to pretend like NOTHING unusual had just happened.

He never said anything. He never indicated he saw anything beyond the email in his hands.

I kept the conversation going and then walked away.  Cheeks burning with embarrassment.  Hand clutching my waistband of the stupid pants. I actually thought I had maybe, JUST maybe gotten away with it and he hadn’t seen what had happened.

Until…

A few days later were were in a large meeting and we were talking about managing the well-intentioned impatience of one of our stakeholders.  The senior administrator looked right at me, in the room full of people, and said ‘maybe we should just tell him to keep his pants on.’  And then gave a little chuckle.  He never missed a beat.  Just kept right on talking.

I turned about 10 shades of crimson.  And got a horrible case of the giggles.

I knew then that this was going to be the running joke for the rest of our professional working lives together.  He is witty and funny and sharp and KIND.  When I think it’s forgotten he’ll make a subtle and funny joke about pants. I know that he is reminding me that he understands that LIFE happens and you have to be able to laugh at yourself; and it’s a BONUS if your friends can laugh with you…

I have since then — with Hannah’s advice and guidance (and patience!) — bought some new pants.

They fit.

Almost every pair I now own has a drawstring. 🙂

Shame.

~ betsyhartley392 ~ Leave a comment
IMG_7137
Walking and running a whole new path.

“Shame is the intensely painful feeling or experience of believing that we are flawed and therefore unworthy of love and belonging.” — Brene Brown

Spencer and I’s business venture, Novo Veritas, is off and starting to run. (Pun totally intended.)

We have done a handful of presentations – each one has been a great experience. We are meeting some incredible people!

Our format for these interactions is intended to be much more like a conversation, than a ‘formal presentation’. We talk bluntly and honestly about our lifestyle changes and the crap that led us each to make an overhaul of our lives. We purposely save half of our time for the audience to ask us questions. Any questions they have.

They can, and do, ask us anything.

Things get authentic and candid PRETTY quickly.

Spencer and I are not shying away from talking about the painful and ugly stuff.  We try to talk about, and answer questions, to help people understand how we each got to the point of being ready for a major change.  How we made those changes. What our respective journeys look like today.

Why are we doing this?

We hope that by sharing our stories people can relate to what we continue to tackle and be ready/inspired/motivated to gear up for their own fight…

And make honest, lasting change.

When people talk to me about my story, shame seems to lead the pack of comments that people identify with.

Shame.

It was right smack in the middle of it all for me.

Shame made me feel like I had to work harder and fight harder than a ‘thin’ person to be thought worthy and valuable since I was fat.

Shame made me feel like I had to apologize to the world for my overweight existence intruding into their thin world.

Shame convinced me that most conversations about my worth and abilities professionally probably went like this… ‘Well she’s good at her job, for a fat woman…’

Shame had me questioning whether anyone beyond my immediate family could/would ever love me.

I may have seemed normal on the outside, but I felt like I being eaten alive on the inside by shame.

And in my case, shame manifested itself in me literally trying to eat myself to death.

I mean, I freaking wore visible proof every single day, for everyone to see, that I couldn’t control food and I was lazy.

So I ate to bury the embarrassment and pain and shame…

‘Unlike guilt, which is the feeling of doing something wrong, Shame is the feeling of being something wrong.” — Marilyn Sorensen

I do want to be clear about something. For me, SHAME IS PAST TENSE.

I am NOT asking for sympathy, not trying to sound sad or desperate.

I am NOT in that place of shame anymore.

But these presentations are showing me that I was never alone.  But a lot of people feel like they are…

They’re showing me that a lot of people – men and women –   are weighed down with or paralyzed by shame. Weight, bodies, food habits, past failures… The list is long, emotionally daunting.

BUT, it turns out vulnerability is actually a very powerful opponent against shame.

‘If we share our story with someone who responds with empathy and understanding, shame can’t survive. ” — Brene Brown

(Dr. Brene Brown.  ‘Daring Greatly.’  WISH LIKE HELL I would have found this book long ago. It’s helping me put into words the process I’ve been fighting through.)

When I started to put the feelings and reasons for shame into words… Something amazing started to happen.

Slowly, but it happened...

Shame no longer had me in a choke-hold.

I was NOT openly posting these emotional upheavals or awakenings on social media. And I was not dismissing them and ignoring them like the old days.

I finally accepted it was a problem. And I knew I needed to figure it out.  Face it. Begin to fight it.

I chose to have soul-baring conversations with people who knew me, cared deeply about me and who I trusted.

I talked my way into a whole new experience of freedom when I opened up about the things that I was ashamed of…

I talked about hating my body. I talked about developing a deadly disease due entirely to my lack of control over food and my laziness.  I talked about embarrassing/mortifying/horrible moments. I talked about being lonely and alone and unloveable. I talked about the physical indignities of being so obese you literally can not even care for your own feet…

There was some pretty deep shame involved in my story.  Turns out that it’s a lot of the same shameful ‘stuff’ other overweight people have in their stories too.

While shame is largely in my past, I will admit that I still have moments of doubt and shame and fear.  C’mon, who doesn’t?

BUT I’ve been able to figure out at least two of the major triggers that cause me to revert to old ways of thinking. Shame seems most able to temporarily ‘rent space’ in my head when…

  1. I’m tired.
  2. I’m trying something new that scares, frustrates or embarrasses me.

Discovering these basic triggers proved to be a MAJOR weapon.

I can now tell myself that I’m not feeling pain or sadness or heartbreak over not belonging — I’m more than likely just tired.

And I’m not flawed and worthless and unlovable because I am trying to learn a new skill or can’t quite (yet) do what everyone else can do — I’m more than likely just embarrassed or scared.

Just knowing the triggers gives me a better chance at changing the self-dialogue in my head.

That dialogue is so different than it used to be.

Am I cured? No.

Are there times I question my worth or my value or whether I’m loveable?  Hell yes.

BUT the key this time around is I can usually recognize and STOP that line of thinking much sooner rather than later.

And – FOR THE WIN! – even if shame grabs a temporary foothold, it no longer translates into me finding the answer in the kitchen, the candy bowl or at a fast food restaurant.

Exposing shame to the light is the only way you can really begin to fight it.