Reversing diabetes

You’re telling me I can never eat candy again?

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 14 Comments
Apple
Candy. 🙂

*This blog is a little messy, because the topic is messy.  No matter how I tried to organize or clean it up, it just wouldn’t cooperate.  And it’s personal. Fair warning. 🙂 

Just about daily, someone asks me what I ate to lose weight or manage blood glucose for Type 2 diabetes.

A lot of people are interested in the food dynamics for BOTH of these issues.

The bulk of these conversations are people who are a) genuinely curious or b) want confirmation that what they are doing is the right thing.  We tend to get really chatty and animated about food and helpful tips!

A handful of the conversations are people trying to convert me to their way of thinking/eating.  If it works for them — great!

A handful of the conversations are people questioning my choices. These conversations, as you can imagine, go a little differently.  It’s usually heralded by a comment like ‘Well, then what are you allowed to eat….?’  First, I try really hard not to get defensive. Then, I quickly let them know that I am NOT being punished or on a ‘diet’; I am simply and willingly MAKING choices based on what works best for me.

I usually end the conversation right there.

I will freely admit that any of the above mentioned conversations can easily get a little more confusing than normal.  Why?  Because I will eventually admit that I personally made choices to ban certain foods from my life. People are justifiably curious about why I have chosen to do that. (Hence the title question of this blog.)

The honest answer?

They’re banned in my life because of my total lack of control.

I am not one of those humans blessed with the skill of ‘moderation’.

Eat one cookie? A bite of a candy bar? One small slice of pizza?  Yeah… Right…

I have learned these past 3 years that I’m an all-or-nothing kind of girl.

That’s really good stuff to know about yourself.

I have had people get — literally — in my face about my food choices.  As recent as this week.

It’s when I choose NOT to eat something that usually triggers the harshest of comments.

‘Your diet would KILL me’, ‘your life has to be so boring if you can’t even eat cake…’ and my favorite (not) ‘just ONE bite is NOT going to kill you…’

There’s more – but you get the idea.

I have a few things I do when I feel confronted or questioned about food;

  • Walk away.
  • Find a friend who knows my story and stand with them. I still lack self-confidence and strength (maturity?) in my relationship with food. I know it. I seek out FRIENDS for comfort instead of food these days. Maybe this is not a healthy trade-off, but it works for now as I am still learning coping skills and gaining confidence.
  • Decline invitations if I know that my food choices are going to be scrutinized or my decision to NOT eat is going to be taken poorly or cause problems for the host/hostess.
  • Just take a portion of whatever is being adamantly pushed and quietly get rid of it.

I am working HARD to make the choices that work best for me and for sustaining my healthy lifestyle.  Non-stop learning.

The biggest hurdle for me continues to be understanding and accepting that NOT everyone needs to approve of what I do, of the choices I make…  And learning to resist the urge to apologize, explain or defend my choices to everyone.

I AM NOT asking anyone else to buy into this crazy, neurotic food ride that I am on.

But it works for me, and me alone.

The one comment that always makes me defensive?

The ‘One bite…’ comment.

People are seriously taping into the deepest of my emotional injuries with that comment and they don’t even realize it…

One bite COULD kill me.

OK… NOT literally at this point in my health journey.

But when I was managing T2 diabetes and battling life-long obesity… FOOD was a very real, dangerous, controlling drug of sorts for me.

When I was trying to establish new, strong habits — one bite could be a real mental/emotional unraveling down a very, very steep and slippery slope. And I knew it. One bite could be the difference between winning and losing a battle.

Or winning and losing the entire war.

Why?  Because that is ALWAYS what had happened in the past.

Having ‘one bite’ is not about being flexible or daring or easy-going or accomodating…

FOR ME, that ‘one bite’ was entirely about the act of GIVING up and giving in. One small step at a time.

One bite leads to two… And that is exactly how you wind up 392 pounds at age 42.

I’d lost the battle countless times.  I know the ‘one bite’ battle all too well.

I have had to work hard to re-frame my entire relationship with food. It’s one of the parts that’s not overtly visible unless you eat with me often, read my food journals or I have chosen to confide in you… So that’s about 3 people. Seriously.

So what did I have to re-frame? What are my goals now?

  • Food is fuel.  I treat food as a means to fueling my life, my goals.
  • I focus on only eating when I am physically ‘belly’ hungry.

I had to first work hard to move away from thinking of food as comfort, peace, solace, friendship. Thats what it had been most of my life.

Then I had another big leap to make when I was in the throes of battling Type 2 Diabetes to move away from thinking of food as poison or adversarial.

It has been constant, private, hard work.

And I’m not done. Not done by a long shot.

So am I really saying no more of certain foods, ever again?  For me; yes. That is MY choice,and it’s worked more than 3.5 years.

I think some of my struggles and battles with food choices might resonate with a handful of folks. BUT my strategies and tactics and ‘all or nothing’ approach with food – NO, it won’t work for most people.  I totally understand that and would never actively encourage folks to follow in my exact footsteps.

Everyone has to find their own path to healthy.  Make their own choices.  Discover what works for them…

FullSizeRender
Iced black coffee. 🙂 My favorite treat!

I can tell you that it is a path well worth finding… 🙂

Trigger point

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 5 Comments
IMG_6026-2
…all kinds of great paths have opened up for me… 🙂

I often get asked what the trigger point was for my lifestyle overhaul.

I always stumble around for a good answer. I never quite know what to say because the truth is…  Well, it’s just messy.

I did reach a point (July 2010) where I knew I was DONE with the way I was living my life. I wanted to be on a new path. No matter what it took. I felt that shift physically.

My gut and heart were finally ready to follow my mind.

But there were life-long cascading events that led up to that actual moment in July 2010…

I was fat. Not fitting in chairs. Special clothes. Exceeding weight limits. Routinely being the largest person in a room.

Unhealthy. Fatty liver. Cholesterol levels that were sketchy. High blood pressure. A category I’ll politely label ‘female issues’.

Diabetic, Type 2.  Daily injections for blood glucose control. Finger sticks. Drugs to help with complications. Swinging highs/lows that made me oh-so-much-fun to be around.

I had grown used to all of this.

It was all manageable.

But there was a single, big event that changed my world…

My world stopped on 3/10/10 just after 9 in the morning when my mom died.

We had been fighting, all-out, to save her for months.

She died of MRSA.

MRSA is a drug resistant staph. A ‘super bug’.  For my mom, it was a massive, systemic staph infection that could not be controlled. As time went by, NONE of the drugs available in the US worked, not even the experimental drugs, combinations.

My mom had a seriously compromised immune system. She had Rheumatoid Arthritis (RA) from when she was 32. Complications from RA, for her, were diabetes and kidney failure. She was in renal failure when MRSA grabbed hold. She was a desperately difficult case for OHSU (Oregon’s teaching hospital) to work on. We were told routinely how dire and complicated things were.

The infection and complications overwhelmed her body 6 days after her 66th birthday.

I grieved. Hard. For more than a year I was secluded, closed-off and wounded. Hell, I’m still grieving 5 years later.  My mom was one of my best friends. She shouldn’t have died. But her health was so complicated and compromised that her body couldn’t help her fight off the infection.

After she died I began to realize a few things…

I hurt my back 4 months before she died. Bulged 2 discs in my lower back.  I tripped and fell. The doctor told me the weight of my belly is likely what pulled my back apart, the fall shouldn’t have done it. I was drugged into oblivion for pain management. I was crippled to the point that I couldn’t bend over my moms ICU bed and kiss her cheek as she was dying…

I will never get over that. Not even going to try. Being fat had finally caught up with me.

This was the first time I ever remember feeling resentment, remorse, disgust, regret (not sure of the right word….) at having let myself get so fat and unhealthy.

And I saw some incredible things in our time at the hospital. I realized that a good long-term strategy for survival is to NOT NEED healthcare/hospitals. I was, at 42, a surgical candidate for a back injury related to my weight, taking 3 shots a day for type 2 diabetes, 6-7 other meds. I was dependent on lots of doctors to keep me healthy.

Do you see where this is all leading…??!

Eventually I did too.

It took about 16 months for me to piece it all together and decide that it time to act.

One other note…  (I said this was messy!)

Grieving changes you. Fundamentally. It scars you. It tears you to shreds.  You literally feel like your heart is bleeding. You are in a blinding mental fog. And oddly, it makes you stronger than you ever thought possible. All of the sudden you are fiercely protective of loved ones and friends; protecting others is the only emotional outlet for the shit storm that is your mind and heart. Grief makes you so weak and vulnerable you sit passively, even in public, with tears streaming down your face because you don’t even have the energy to properly cry…

If you’ve grieved — you know what I’m talking about. You have your own definitions and examples for what it does to your life, your mind and your heart.

Having said that…

I began to realize that my mom would be so, so disappointed in me if I kept living my life as the walking dead. What kind of tribute was that to my mom?!  She was INCREDIBLE and loved life and cherished people and enjoyed every moment she was given — until the very end.

I had to do that same… I had to live a FULL life.  Not a half life of adapting and getting by.

I began to understand that the biggest tribute I could possibly pay to my mom (and dad!) is to show people that I CHOOSE to live life, love people and enjoy each moment I am given.

Things had to change.

The best visual I have come up with is that things were piling up.

Instead of them piling up on top of me and being suffocated by them – like I had always done in the past, this time; I stood on them.

They piled up.  And I just kept blindly and stubbornly scrambling and climbing over them and standing on them.

I didn’t want to be suffocated.  Or squished.  Or buried. Anymore.

I wanted to LIVE.

But… WHY this time?  I had learned to live life as a fat woman.  I was managing my diabetes. I was getting by just fine.

Was my trigger point all really tied to my mom’s death? Was it the little things piling up? Was it just that I finally found a spark of bravery and determination that I had never felt/found/noticed before…

I really don’t know.

I think it was more likely a perfect storm and I was finally ready.

Perhaps too simple an answer to satisfy folks who are looking to be motivated for their own life change… But I really do think it was the right things at the right time and I had just enough guts to make a run for it – and quickly found the right people and tools and encouragement.

It’s still a daily fight to stay in control of food. I keep an eagle eye on my weight and work hard to keep it stable. I still hit snooze sometimes before getting my butt out of bed to go run. 🙂  I won’t lie to you. I understand that I will have daily battles the rest of my life to keep the good habits in the forefront.

Game on.

My mom was proud of me. She made sure I KNEW that every single day of my life. And I know she would be just as proud of me now.

I am a very lucky girl to be so well loved.

I also know that if she was still alive she would be begging my dad to create a wheelchair with all-terrain wheels and a seat belt so I could push her into the hills on trail runs and she would be my running partner…  🙂

IMG_6265
Mom. Fishing Diamond Lake. She is pointing the biggest fish to let everyone know that’s the one she caught… 🙂

More than the eye can see…

~ betsyhartley392 ~ Leave a comment

FullSizeRender

‘You have no idea what it’s like to fight your weight…’

I joined a conversation with two coworkers. They introduced me to the 3rd person in their group.  As I walked up they were talking about losing weight and exercising. They were chattering loudly about how hard it all was to make it work, where to start and how to stick to it.  I didn’t say anything right off, but I eventually piped in. I said something generic about eating less and moving more…

The woman I had just met kind of eyeballed me and said ‘You obviously have no idea what it’s like to have to fight your weight…’

I literally choked on my coffee and sputtered/snorted/cackled.  VERY ladylike and polite. 🙂

Here are the thoughts that zipped through my head:

First: A chance to talk about lasting lifestyle changes. Eat less. Move more… Open door… Walk through it!

Second: Lightly stunned. Someone threw judgement out verbally at someone they had JUST met.  Mentally, we all do that kind of judging and assessing crap – even if we don’t want to admit to it.  But she said it out loud. (Says the woman who notoriously has a broken filter… 🙂 )

Third: WOW!  GREAT reminder. EVERY single person we meet has a history, a battle, a fight, a problem, a triumph, a story, that WE KNOW NOTHING ABOUT.  Things are not always how they look. What was this woman’s story??!  What was going on…?

Fourth:  ASS is a key part of the word assumption.

Fifth:  This woman has no idea that I wake up every morning still convinced I weigh 392 pounds and that it takes me a minute or two to realize I’m not that person anymore… Every. Single. Day.

How was I going to tell this woman I just met — “You are more wrong that you can possibly even begin to understand” and do it kindly?

I smiled and quietly said ‘Oh, but I really, really do get it…’

She responded with a shrug and slight eye roll that I took to mean ‘ yeah… right… whatever….’

I quickly told her the basics; I reversed type 2 diabetes. Got off all injections/meds. Lost 220 pounds. FOUGHT like a freaking-possessed-maniac to learn how to run and love exercise.  LOVE where my life has taken me. Fight for it each and every day.  Fight for it with EACH and every food choice.  FIGHT for it each and every day when I decide to get out of bed and meet my friends at the gym or go for a run.

She said ‘ok… so maybe you do kind of get it…  tell me more…”

We’re going to grab coffee this next week.

I want to hear her story.

Soapbox warning. 🙂

I’ve been stewing on this exchange and my thoughts about it for over a week.

I knew there was a bigger lesson buried in there for me, if I wanted to figure it out.

I decided that this whole conversation was really a GREAT big reminder for me about the bigger picture of life.

Everyone I meet is hurting and battling something.  Or more than one, single something.

Everyone has something in their background, their back story, that has shaped them into who they are today.

Not all of it is visible.  Not all of it is public. Some of it is happening right before our eyes.

I need to go easy on our fellow humans. 

I need to ask more questions and listen carefully.

And I have to QUIT assuming if I want people to quit assuming things about me…

There is always more than the eye can see.

I HATE running. So, how did you learn to love running?!

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 8 Comments
1501067_10153375932931258_7122044995604249637_o
Jeff and I, North Face, December 2014.  Those smiles? Genuine.

‘I HATE running. So, how did you learn to love running?!’

I get asked this question a bunch. As we near the end of January — resolutions being put to the test — I get asked with increasing urgency.

I answer their statement/question with a question.

‘Why do you want to love running?’

I really want to know WHY they think they have to love running specifically.

The truth is maybe they won’t love running.  It is not for everyone. And that’s OK.

The REAL issue is not running anyway.

Let’s be honest.

The key to healthy, sustainable success is to fall in love with SOME physical activity that you will consistently make time in your day to do. Something active, fun, rewarding and friend-based or solitude-giving. You may love swimming or hiking or cycling or walking or Zumba.

It does not have to be running. It just has to be something. 🙂 THAT is the secret.

Being active is what I fell in love with and what really changed my life. 

It just happens to be an activity called running. 🙂

Sometimes people really do want to know how to learn to love running specifically.

I can tell you how I got started. And we have to start with my mindset.

Run when chased.

Even then, only RUN if I didn’t stand a fighting chance.

One day about 3 years ago I realized that I would quickly and flippantly tell everyone that I hated running. Someone eventually challenged me about exactly WHY I hated it.  What specifically did I not enjoy?

The truth that grudgingly emerged was that I had NEVER, ever actually tried running.

I then had some honest conversations with myself about how I could hate something I actually knew nothing about and had no experience with…

This was my reasoning:

I’ve been overweight my entire life.

Overweight people don’t run.

Overweight people who try to run get made fun of (brutally so. Google it if you doubt me) and they look pathetically ridiculous.

I am not just ‘overweight’, I am morbidly obese. I am fat.

Therefore… I hate running.

With a passion.

And if I tell people I hate running — they’ll assume I have tried it and I am just choosing not to run.

They’ll never, ever guess that I’m saying I hate it because I’m fat and scared and know that it is beyond any fitness level I have ever had in my entire life.  It is beyond any amount of work or fitness I can possibly even begin to imagine…

Huh.

So I had few weeks of struggling with the topic and then finally had to admit to myself that I was deeply AFRAID of something I had never really bothered to try…

It’s a rough process to realize and acknowledge something really ugly, weak about yourself.

But this time I was NOT going to run from my fears. (Pun intended. Or is this irony?!) 🙂

It was time to put on my big girl panties and deal with things.  (Note: Like a lot of my female running friends, I don’t wear underwear with my running tights. ‘Big girl panties’ is just a figure of speech.) 🙂

Running for me sucked at the start.  Let’s just get that out of the way. It was physically painful. Mentally exhausting.  I was 230 pounds or so.

But I promised myself that this time I would give it a really solid effort and at least get PAST the fear to a personally informed opinion.

I pulled a beginners running plan off the internet, wore the best compression gear I could afford, made time for running each day, set mini-goals, told some friends.

I wholeheartedly, honestly tried running.

It was SLOW and painful at the start.  In an earlier blog I detailed how I literally started by running across a driveway on my daily walk.  That’s all I could handle.  I kept working to build distance and time.

I struggled.  Not gonna lie.

I would sweat so heavily – any time of year – I was drenched. My face would turn an alarming beet red and people would ask if I was OK. I would be red-faced and sweating for HOURS after working out.  My feet, legs and hips would hurt for days after an attempt. There were mean catcalls made out of car windows. My appetite went through the roof and I had to REALLY watch my food consumption to keep the scale creeping downward. I had to invest in better shoes, bras and specialty compression gear.

But the problem was…

After a few weeks of really, truly trying to run…

I kind of fell for it.

I loved the challenge. I loved feeling the accomplishment. I loved the people I was meeting who were unabashedly supportive. I loved how my blood sugars would swoop low and STAY there.  I loved how I felt a fierce sense of pride in my body and what I was asking her to do.  I loved that my body was working harder then ever and yet I knew she could do even more…

I kept trying.  And learning.  And meeting great people. And running further.

My ‘love’ for running was obviously NOT a love at first sight kind of thing.

It was a 2+ year process of stubbornly not giving up.

So the key to learning to ‘love’ running, as far as I am concerned???

Deciding I wanted something MORE than I was afraid of it AND just  NOT giving up. 🙂

There are legit physical issues that prevent people from running.  I get that.  I’m not here to ask you to do something you physically should not be doing.

But I am going to ask a much bigger question.  The question I had to ask myself.

What are you afraid of?

For me running was something I feared. That’s why I thought I hated it.

I didn’t hate running.  I was scared of being made fun of.  I was afraid I would look dumb.  I was paralyzed by where/how to even start.  I was terrified that people would pity me or mock me or be disgusted by me.

I was afraid of something I had never tried.

Once I tried it — really, truly gave it an honest effort — it began to change my life.

That first step is ALWAYS the hardest… But it was so, so worth braving it.

Running has changed my life.  And there is no doubt that it is part of what saved my life.

That is HOW I learned to love running. 🙂

#runhappy #lifeisgood

Pictures.

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 12 Comments
IMG_6263
‘Before’ pictures.

I was working on a project with Spencer and needed to dig up a ‘before’ picture. Trying to find one that would tell the story of my lifestyle journey. (AKA the picture that shows me at my heaviest…)

Even ‘good’ pictures from when I was my heaviest were super hard to find.

Why?!

Well…

When you weigh 350+ pounds you do not willingly pose for the camera. It’s much easier to live without having to face iron-clad proof that you are or were ever really that big.

You learn to avoid the camera at all costs. If someone actually manages to get a picture of you and you have the ability, you GET RID OF IT.

You refuse to see the joy of the event or the happiness of your loved ones or the excitement in your life — all you can see is…

  • Your fat face.
  • Your fat belly.
  • You’re so obese that your arms can not physically lay at your side.
  • How soft, puffy and round everything looks.
  • How your clothes don’t fit. Fat rolls with fabric clinging to them. Seams busting open. Buttons being seriously tested.
  • How much of the picture frame you take up.

And let’s talk about how I had developed some impressive self-defense skills at avoiding pictures in the first place:

  1. Blink. Don’t have to do anything dramatic or try to run from the photographer. No one will use a picture if your eyes aren’t open.
  2. Become a photographer. Built-in reason to NOT be in pictures. I carried my camera everywhere.

So, you can see, I had trouble finding pictures from when I was at my heaviest.

Then I found some.

My mom had squirreled some away.

I literally sat on the floor cringing as I looked through them. Feeling some intense shame and embarassment.

I did not want to admit that I now had these pictures. I didn’t want anyone else to see them.

I had told Spencer I couldn’t find any pictures – which was totally true at first.

But then I found this hidden stack…

I considered telling him I still couldn’t find any.

But I can’t lie to Spencer.

AND in looking at the pictures and debating about hiding them or denying their existence…  I realized something. I realized that I needed to stop being so freaking mean to myself.

The fact is, I was morbidly obese for most of my adult life.

I JUST WAS.

I can hate that fact all I want, but it doesn’t change it.

Hiding or denying the fat me doesn’t mean she never existed.

The current me needs to quit trying to beat the crap out of the former me.  How’s that for a boxing match?

It was a hurtful but necessary realization process as I sat on the floor with pictures of the fat me in my hands…

When I could finally get past my own monster-sized and wounded ego and really look at the stack of pictures in my hands, I was shocked to see something I actually loved…

These pictures tell some of my greatest stories and experiences and they showcase some of the best people of my life.

I have amazing, crazy, beautiful, loving family and friends.  We have traveled and laughed and loved through great times and tough times and really bad hair styles. We have weathered storms and wrecked havoc.

The pictures simply show that I have been spoiled with a GREAT and full life.

My days of dodging the camera are officially over.

I have some stories left to create and a life to live. 🙂  NO matter what I look like.

My mom has been gone almost 5 years and in that squirreled away stack of pictures there were a lot of her smiling mug greeting me.

I will share with you the other ‘learning’ that occurred as I sat on the floor looking for a ‘before’ picture…

My mom never shied away from the camera.  Was she perfectly thin and thrilled with her body. No.

Did she love her life and everyone in it?  YES.

That’s all I see when I look at those pictures of her.

Her hands that held each of us when we desperately needed her and those same hands that were her best utensil in the kitchen. Her blue, kind eyes that were ALWAYS smiling. The smirk that meant she was about to dish out some fantastic pun.

I absolutely see her wheelchair and painfully crooked feet and legs. But I see them with the understanding and pride that they NEVER stopped her from living her life and loving her people.

I see the fierce and pure joy she had for being alive to be a part of her husband, daughters and grandkids lives. The hugs and laughs and jokes and purely happy times.  That’s WHAT I see.

That’s ALL I see.

Don’t shy away from the camera because you don’t like how you look today.

It’s short-sighted. And selfish.

Pictures help tell the story of your life. And your role in the life of others.

No matter how you look today — it IS part of your story. OWN IT.

Those who love you will look at snapshots in the future and see you with their eyes, but most importantly they will see you with their heart.

IMG_6264

(The crap in the middle.)

~ betsyhartley392 ~ Leave a comment
IMG_4411
Wendie, Bets. June 2014, Timothy Lake/Mt. Hood 50 Miler.  We were crewing for Josh as he ran 50 miles. 🙂

My friend Wendie and I were having coffee last week. Chattering excitedly about the EPIC plans all of our friends have for 2015.

And getting pedicures. 🙂

I asked her for some honest feedback on this whole adventure of blogging.

‘You have been writing about the fun stuff, the happiness, the A-Z success, the highlights.

You really need to talk about the ugly, hard stuff, the sad stuff, the things that make people quit and give up.

People need to know they are not alone.

They need to know about the crap in the middle.’

She said I should consider talk about the stuff NO ONE WANTS to really talk about…  Not even just the embarrassing stuff, which usually makes for at least a great story or laugh at some point.

She said to tackle the DAILY GRIND. The things that easily erode away confidence. Or stop you in your tracks if you have to battle it too many times. The things that fatigue you or plant nagging self-doubt.

Steep learning curves when all you want is SOMETHING to be familiar and NOT so damned hard…

You with me?

The stuff that sucks.

This is the stuff that I battled intently, intensely and consistently this time around.

This is also the exact listing of where I was derailed in EVERY past attempt I made on a ‘diet’ or exercise regime.

This is the crap that was in the middle of my journey…

  1. I was NOT going to talk about my fat rolls and bulk and weight and the problems they were causing when I tried to exercise, with anyone. Chafing, motion control, infections, back strains. I suffered in embarrassed and humiliated silence for a VERY long time. Shame. Deep shame.
  2. Life felt unfair. Going to bed hungry, feeling overwhelmed and alone. Usually a little pissed off that ‘normal people’ could eat whatever they wanted. Meanwhile I was a freaking air fern that could gain weight by SMELLING cookies baking.
  3. Type 2 Diabetes. TRYING to get off of insulin. Having to add more back in. Endless finger sticks. Lows that made me an unbearable, cranky, bratty turd. Trying to eat the right thing at the right time and not be over calories for the day.
  4. Being so sore from exercising that I literally thought something was broken or ruined.
  5. Going to social events and choosing NOT to eat what everyone else was eating. And then trying HARD not to look awkward or sad or out of sorts.
  6. Chronic food pushers/saboteurs.
  7. Not seeing results. Restricting calories and the scale not moving for days and weeks. Walking further and not finding it any easier. Doing the same things as my friends and they were having success. Me…? Not at all…
  8. Wanting to quit. Feeling overwhelmed. Knowing there was NO END IN SIGHT. Ever. These habits had to be ‘for life’.
  9. Food was spot on. Measured and counted everything. Exercised every single day. Drank water. Good blood sugars.  I did everything I was supposed to be doing.  Scale said I was UP.  *Insert scream of rage/despair here*.
  10. Scale dictating my mood and my feelings of success. I would become a thundercloud of despair because I was up half or a full pound on any given day.
  11. Revert to comfortable habits when the rest of life was out of control. Cheat on my OWN rules. And then face frustration or panic because I KNEW this was not behavior that would lead me anywhere but BACKWARD…

I know I am NOT alone in my listing  of ‘sucky’ things…  I’ve talked to too many people.

Please… Tell me what’s missing from my list that is on your list?  What is the crap in the middle of your journey?

And once we know what were facing and struggling against…  How do we fight back and WIN?

I have to be honest and admit that I still struggle with most of these on some level. I am not an expert. BUT, I am an extrovert, with some sass and a few personal experiences that I am not too embarrassed to share.  So I will share. 🙂

I promised Wendie that we would get conversations started about battling the crap in the middle.

Stay tuned.

Everyday is a new day. You have to start over every single day. No matter how effing hard it is, you fight through it and you start fresh the next day.    — Wendie

IMG_4068
Out kicking it on a run… Don’t remember when or where. But we were moving. And sweating And smiling. Who cares about the details? 🙂

Sports bras and coffee: A supportive friendship. (Guest blog, Taryn)

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 4 Comments
IMG_5947
Taryn and Bets. Friendship started over a cup of coffee. There have been MANY cups of coffee between then and now. 🙂

Taryn is a registered dietitian, athlete, sports bra expert 🙂 and friend.  Grab a cup of coffee and meet my friend Taryn…

As Betsy has alluded to in a previous blog post (Bra runs amok), we originally met through her fear of asking her running coach, Spencer, advice on buying a sports bra after multiple bra-related mishaps.

Call it fate, call it whatever you want, but if sports bras are what originally brought us together then I am forever indebted to those innocuous little pieces of clothing that are so much more than bits of dry-fit fabric and elastic. {Insert little cheer for sports bras HERE! Guys, sorry you don’t quite understand.}

So, after that introduction, let me share a little bit of our story…

After being introduced to Betsy via Spencer over email, and many, MANY emails and personal details later (overshare on the internet to a stranger? Nah), we agreed to meet for coffee.

Betsy shared her story to lose weight and reverse Type 2 Diabetes, which was instantly intriguing to me. I should also mention, I’m a Registered Dietitian with a specialty in sports nutrition. In my few years of practicing as a dietitian, I’d heard a few stories here and there of people who had lost large amounts of weight but never actually met someone who did it solely through healthy lifestyle changes: EAT LESS (or more, high quality, nutrient dense foods ☺), MOVE MORE.

I soon realized, this woman is freakin’ AWESOME and hilarious. And by “soon” I mean about 5 minutes after taking my first sip of coffee with her. I just had to learn more about her journey! I think the feeling was mutual though, as we both saw there was more to be gained by this introduction than just sports bras…

So she began to tell me about her quest to revamp her lifestyle (which she was already deep into at this point) and her new idea to run an ultra. Had I ever heard of such a thing? Why yes, I had in fact just run an ultra ☺.

And so began what might be called the second phase of our journey together…learning to fuel for exercise, specifically long duration exercise.

Our conversation went something like this:

Me: “What do you do for fueling during your long runs?” (we’re talking like 2+ hours here)

Betsy: * blank stare * (she might have been speechless for maybe the first time in our entire relationship 😉

When I suggested that she should try fueling during her runs, I could almost read her thoughts: “why the F would I EAT something while running?!?!?!” To put it mildly, at this point, Betsy was still very much in the “diabetic carb-phobic, use exercise for weight loss” phase.

If she wanted to run an ultra, and not just grudgingly finish, but enjoy the experience (a HUGE factor in sticking with any form of exercise: enjoyment!!!), fueling during her longer runs would be a necessity. Bonking + being hangry = a bad combo, and best avoided.

Fast-forward countless more coffee dates (and maybe a few carb-tantrums…) later, I have been fortunate to witness a small part of Betsy’s mindset transformation from carb-fearful to understanding the role of proper portion size of high-quality carbohydrates (think fruits, vegetables and whole grains: brown rice, quinoa, etc) in her everyday life, during exercise, and for post-exercise recovery.

If you ask me, meeting over sports bras took down a lot of the barriers that are sometimes initially there in the beginnings of a friendship when you’re thinking: “Can I tell this person this story? What will they think of me?…” I mean, let’s be real, how many of your friends can you openly and honestly share stories about gut issues while running and pooping in the woods with no shame? (Note: if you’re a runner, that doesn’t apply to you). That might have happened on maybe our third or fourth coffee date… Just go right ahead and smash those barriers.

When I think about it, I’ve only known Betsy for about a year and a half but it feels like so much more. Not only have I gained a lifetime friend that we can be authentically open and honest with each other, but it’s a supportive friendship at that.

Get the pun? 😉

IMG_3610
Trail run at Peavy last March. Taryn KNOWS the trails. Her mind is a map. I would still be running in circles trying to find the Bonzai trail had she not been there. 🙂

Miles. (Wade, Guest blogger)

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 4 Comments
IMG_2510
Wade and Betsy

Meet Wade!  Not sure how much of an introduction he really needs.  His post perfectly describes the strength and fabric of our friendship.

He is one of the people who has been with me through this entire journey.  He knew me at my heaviest.  He was the very first person I told when I decided that I was going to get started saving my own life…

I could not have done this without him.  You’ll see that for yourself.

It’s all yours Wade…

Miles…

“The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.”

~ Lao Tzu


January 27, 2013 at 12:12am (EST)

Betsy: “Think about something… HOW would you even begin to go about the permitting processes for a NAKED 5K? Logistical nightmare.”

That is approximately the 3,700th Facebook message between Betsy and I. She sent it to me, it was the first message in the conversation that day… Nudity, logistics, running… Somehow it is a perfect representation of our relationship.

We’ve known each other since late 2007. Since that time we have amassed over 4,000 Facebook messages, an unknowable number of text messages, and hours on the phone.

September 17, 2009 at 1:16am (EDT)

Betsy: “We have 142 friends in common. I didn’t know I had 142 friends. I just noticed that little factoid on FB. 142 is a lot.”

142 is a lot, it’s 46 friends fewer than we have in common now, and it’s also 92 less than pounds lost on this journey…

Think about the last substantial road trip you shared with friends, you learned something about each other. You saw the good, the bad, the ugly, and the hilarious. And at the end, hopefully you are better for it. AND there is always more to the road trip than gets reported when you are showing off photos…

Betsy’s journey so far has covered many miles but what six years of Facebook messages revealed is that it really did begin with the first step…

Monday, May 24, 2010 at 4:52pm (EDT)

I’m gonna lose 25 pounds. When I do – I’m buying this (a Tiffany Bracelet). And I’m not telling ANYONE but you. Not my dad. Not my sister. And I don’t want you checking in on me. Just wanted someone to kinda/sorta hold me accountable… I want the bracelet.

There may have been little steps before this one, but this was the one, the shot across the bow. When Betsy brings up Tiffany you know it’s serious. It was followed a few days later by an email and subsequent message that she was joining Weight Watchers. While the bulk of the message was the how, the important part was this:

Monday, May 31, 2010 at 11:51pm (EDT)

Weight Watchers starts tomorrow. (Actually – I’ve been doing it most of the weekend, just because I’m that ready to get going.) Attaching the link — so you can see the basics of the program… All good stuff. And yes — I’m that much of a brat that I need to pay someone to tell me the things I already know. Snacks packed for tomorrow. Lunch packed too. I’m gonna do it this time Wade. I really, really want to. I really, really intend to. Wish me luck…

And then a week later this:

Monday, June 7 at 12:10pm (EDT)

Betsy: Weight watchers not working… This is what other folks have used and been successful on. What do you think?

Wade: I think you need to give it more than a week…

Betsy: Walking to a full sweat each day. And I’ve gained 8 pounds in 8 days. Am I just doomed to be fat??? This is so discouraging.

I’ve never done anything like what Betsy has done, many of us haven’t, and god willing won’t have to. I can’t fully understand what it takes to make that kind of a lifestyle change (this is just eating and exercising, just wait until you find out what losing that much weight does with your skin…).

The one thing these messages show is that it is not easy.

Just as with any journey there are bumps in the road (or concrete barriers). But if you manage to crawl (yes crawl) over them then you can get to this:

November 16, 2010 at 4:37pm (EST)

So — I’ve been dropping down on my insulin and the most HAPPY, exciting thing has happened… I’m not as hungry. I’ve lost about 2 pounds. Which I know isn’t a big deal – but the decrease in appetite is HUGE NEWS. My doc gave me the approval to try to get my numbers of insulin waaaaay down and after a bit of a mixed-result start — I think it’s going to work. Less insulin = less hungry = less Betsy… 🙂

And then you get to this:

August 2, 2011 at 12:22am (EDT) … (YES we have odd message times)

Diet this time is odd…I’m solidly happy and committed.

I’m walking 2 miles a day.

It took over a year to go from almost a meltdown when the latest diet didn’t work, to being solidly happy, committed and walking 2 miles a day. 2 miles is a far cry from a 50k, but it’s a hell of a lot better than a burger, fries, and large coke at the drive through on the way home.

There are a lot more steps and milestones in our years of conversation, like when Betsy decided to sign up for a 5k, and then discovered good running shoes. Or when she said she actually enjoyed vegetables.

What I think this shows (I really don’t know much, but this is a blog so I must be right) is that Betsy’s blog posts cover up some of the details. It takes seeing the day-in-day-out conversations to realize just how much work this really takes.

So whether you’re setting out to lose weight, get in shape, or just eat healthier, remember that at one point our fitness freak, Betsy Hartley, was melting down because she gained weight on Weight Watchers.

For the record she stuck with it and it worked, but it was not always rainbows and trail runs…

The journey of a thousand miles may begin with the first step, but, if you don’t keep walking you’re not going to make it very far.

IMG_4199
Pacific Crest Endurance Triathlon (Wade) and Duathlon (Betsy). 2014. We signed up a year ahead – and spent the year being training partners at a distance. Wade in DC, Bets in OR. Friendship and support knows no bounds. 🙂

Can’t is NOT a word.

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 4 Comments
IMG_5432
Liz and I on her wedding day! I’m between 280-320 pounds. Liz was marrying the man of her dreams. SUCH a happy day!  I still love this picture.

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

I have a resolution for you to consider.

It’s simple.  (...I did not say easy…)

It does NOT require you to hit the gym, stop eating your favorite food or make sweeping lifestyle changes. (Unless that’s what you have in mind. 🙂 )

It has to do with how you to talk about your life, your choices.

WORDS MATTER.

When I was FIRST starting on this journey, I would find myself in any situation that involved food and immediately feel the need to proactively defend myself/my choices.  “I can’t eat that.  It’s not on my diet.”

That provokes ALL kinds of responses from people; most re-enforce the negative response I just put out there…

‘I couldn’t do your diet’,  ‘Just one bite won’t hurt’, I even got one ‘Ugh. Your LIFE sucks.’

I had a critical mental shift early on this journey, thanks to a conversation with my friend, Liz.  She’s my life-long, cheerleader, butt-kick-when-I-need-it kind of best friend.  Everyone should be lucky enough to have a Liz.

I was telling Liz about some experiences I had had and that people weren’t as supportive of what I was doing as I had hoped. She said…

‘You chose this. You KNOW you can do it.  You don’t have to ask for permission. You don’t have to defend what you choose to do to anyone.’

Fast forward about two months from that early conversation; She was right. Dodging social invitations or avoiding ALL of my friends wasn’t sustainable. Relying on other people to support or be OK with what I was doing was NOT the answer either.

This was all me. My fight, my life, my choices. And when I really got to thinking about it…?  The core issue was actually pretty simple:

I needed to start by changing my language.

If I changed how I talked about my choices (food, diabetes, exercise, ALL of it!), maybe I could set people up to respond more positively to what I was trying to do…?

So I tested it out. I started saying…

“I choose not to eat that right now, but thank you.”

Funny.  Nobody really seemed to argue with me when I said it was my choice…

I mean they might argue, but they seemed less likely to argue than when I was proclaiming unhappy absolutes. Most folks will instinctively or intellectually argue against a restriction. Life just shouldn’t be about restrictions and cant’s and not-getting to’s.

But when you alert folks that this is a choice. I CHOOSE… I get to and want to… People usually respond accordingly. I found that they overwhelmingly responded with support when I stated things in the positive.

Talking in the positive does some amazing things to your thinking as well. I have better resolve. A better attitude. I am more persistent and stubborn.  ALL of that continues to get stronger when I changed the way I was talking about my choices.

With cementing lifestyle changes –  it’s really our brain we have to convince and keep babysitting. 🙂

“Whether you think you can, or you think you can’t, you’re right.” – Henry Ford

And if Henry Ford isn’t a credible enough source for you…

‘Can’t is NOT a word.’ – Hannah O’Leary 

Don’t take my word for it; try it out!

It’s a subtle and simple resolution that takes some practice. TAKE charge of your words. Make them positive and strong. People will respond by supporting you.

And best of all?  Your brain will follow. 🙂

IMG_2034
Bets and Liz.  LOVE YOU LIZ!

Shots and needles.

~ betsyhartley392 ~ Leave a comment
10577199_10202087158372919_7092170330052315472_n
Mae is the nurse that taught me how to give myself shots. We’ve been friends for 10+ years. Early morning hours before we took off on our 100 mile bike ride for Tour de Cure for Diabetes 2014.

“I could never give myself a shot.  How did you learn to do it?”

I was told I was diabetic and the doctor literally gave me a bag with a vial of insulin and a handful of syringes in it.

He walked out the door…

I was scared to death. Being told I was full-blown diabetic was scary enough, but now I was going to be on insulin. I was given NO INSTRUCTIONS on how to give myself a shot.  It was ALL just a little (ok… a lot…) too much.

The doc did tell me they had to be done in a very specific way; administered within an 8 inch radius of my belly button.  Did I understand what he was telling me.  I numbly nodded yes… (I tend to do that when I am totally intimidated or totally lost… 🙂 )

I sat there dazed, confused, starting to cry… Mae walked in the room.  Mae was the nurse. And this is how I remember what happened next…

Me: Crying in earnest now…  ‘I don’t know how to give myself a shot.  And I have to…”  (There may have been some wailing or sobbing or arm-flapping in there… Mae could tell you in better detail.)

Mae:  ‘Let’s see what is in that bag in your hands. We will figure this out…’

She proceeded to calmly and reassuringly talk me through what each thing was and how it was used.  She told me to get a Sharp’s container and alcohol pads. She talked me through how to give myself a shot.

I dried the tears after a while and walked out.

I knew that I HAD NO CHOICE. It was something I was simply going to have to do it.  I would just have to learn.

I got home and put everything on the counter.

I fished around for what I needed and eventually drew the meds into the syringe.

Then I stood there… With the needle pointed at my belly… Thumb on the plunger of the syringe…

I knew I had to give myself the shot.

So I started this ‘dance‘.  I don’t know what else to call it.  I was basically chasing myself around the kitchen…  I would try to bring the syringe in close and I would back away from MYSELF. I have no other explanation to offer. I was chasing myself around the kitchen. I am positive it looked totally ridiculous.

And then I stood still some more with the needle poised… WILLING myself to just give myself the damn shot.

I COULD NOT do this...

I cried some more. Cussed a lot. Stomped my feet. Threw the syringe.

Deep breath.

Cussing fluently and quite creatively at this point – but with less volume…

I retrieved the syringe and checked to make sure it was all in one piece and that the right amount of insulin was still in it.

Ok.  So maybe if I metaphorically ‘took a running jump…’?  You know — STOPPED thinking about it so much and just jumped in with both feet???

That’s how people conquer things they are afraid of — they JUST do it…

So I grabbed the syringe in both hands.

Stood there for a moment and then finally got up the nerve…

I STABBED myself in the gut.

HARD.

Much like a scene from Romeo and Juliet – with the dagger…  I used enough force that I knocked the wind out of myself. I wound up sporting a faint, softball sized bruise on my belly that looked remarkably like my fist.  🙂

But I got it done!

Turns out those needles are fine gauge and short. You can barely feel them.  HONEST!  There were several times over the years where I would give myself a shot and have to look down and check to make sure the needle had actually connected with my belly.

But that first time?

That first time I had to give myself a shot?

That was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. PURE fear. But I got it done.

I just did it. 🙂

(Nike has it right.)  🙂