Weight loss

Food and a meltdown.

~ betsyhartley392 ~ Leave a comment
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Mile 46 of the North Face Endurance 50 miler last month. All I wanted was oranges. (Wendie Gum, pacer/photographer/orange wrangler.)

Food owned me for 44 years.

Truth?

It still does at times.

It’s at the oddest, most random moments that a titanic wave of emotions about food gets triggered.

I have been actively working on my relationship with food for the last two years.

I want to have peace with food and eating.

 

Right before the Holidays I had a meltdown. It turned out to be a productive emotional meltdown that’s moving me closer to that ‘peaceful’ relationship with food that I’m pursuing.

For me it was a big meltdown because – I don’t really have meltdowns – and this one involved tears and about three days of me feeling emotionally exhausted as I sorted out what had happened.

I learned something really good and positive about myself in the whole process; my coping mechanism this time around was conversation, with just a little bit of hiding/crying thrown in to keep things interesting.

My coping mechanisms was NOT FOOD AND EATING.

Huge win.

So what happened to cause the meltdown?

I have always said I was NOT a secret eater. I am not, at least not in the classic sense of making sure no one sees me physically eating and then hiding any evidence.  (Hiding candy wrappers, burying trash, dumping packaging at the grocery store…)

I’m not a classical secret eater because I would eat anything, unapologetically, in front of people.

But where things get interesting is that I was a version of a secret eater. I was a ‘just don’t let any SINGLE person have a clear picture’ kind of eater…

I’ve been very careful, my whole adult life, to make sure no single person knew my calorie count for the entire day.

Very, years-long, careful. 

I’m a ninja at this crap.

My thinking?  ‘If someone knows the totality of what I’m eating then they will KNOW with absolute certaintity why I am fat.’ Which might have possibly made sense when I weighed 392 pounds.

Now at 168 pounds, 4.8 years in on this epic adventure to change my lifestyle?

This is still my thinking.

You need to throw into this mess that I’m still carb-phobic at times given my background with Type 2 Diabetes. I am NO LONGER T2, but I still think about every bite of food in the form of counting calories, carbs, fat.

I still very much have a hard-wired list of foods that are labeled good/bad that I chronically weigh every food choice against.

Old habits.

 

I now have a roommate. My friend, and business partner, Spencer is my roomie as we work to get our business off the ground and running.

In the time we have been sharing space, I’ve been unconsciously careful to make sure that he didn’t know the full picture of what I was eating each day.  I didn’t realize I was doing this at the time, but looking back; it’s exactly what I was doing.

And I was really good at it.

Then he ‘caught’ me.

Spencer does most of the grocery shopping, we prepare foods to share and we have the same eating habits.

Spencer was showing me some new foods to try for breakfast. At my request.

At the time, I remember I was being a bit squirmy; I needed help finding some food options and variety in my eating choices.  I really was working to lose some of my fears and rules around food. Spencer was willing to help. But the desire to find some food solutions was battling big time with me not wanting Spencer to know what I was actually eating for meals.

I’m not sure how to explain that I specifically requested help with ‘breaking’ my self-imposed food rules/fears, and then at the same time I didn’t want it…

Welcome to my messed-up mind?

So, totally (at least I think he was) unaware of most of this emotional baggage that I’m dragging around the kitchen, Spencer showed me how to build a good, plant-based, protein packed, breakfast bowl.

I was on my own for lunch.  But had packed food from the fridge.

Dinner rolled around.

The meltdown occurred…

He knew what I ate for breakfast. He could easily figure out what I took from home for lunch. Here we were talking about what to eat for dinner. In the grand scheme of trying to hide my total calories consumption for the day; I KNEW Spencer, maybe better than most, could quickly calculate what I had just eaten for the entire day.

Please note… I eat healthy. I’m focused on making sure my running and activity are fueled appropriately. BUT my mind is not healed entirely… (You have probably figured this out by now.)

As I stood in the kitchen with Spencer, all I could feel was that my secretly screwed up relationship with food was no longer safe and secret. That is a SCARY feeling.  Spencer now KNEW what my calories/quality/foods were for the day.

I quietly lost it.

The tears I had been fighting back all day were going to spill over. I don’t cry in front of anyone.

So I did what most healthy adult females would do. I ran upstairs to my room, closed the door and hid. I cried for a bit. I waited for a while hoping he hadn’t noticed anything was amiss and we could just go about business as usual.

Not so much.

He was waiting to talk to me.

‘So we’ve obviously uncovered some painful shit…  You want to talk about it?’

I sat down at the table, with my dinner and choked on it.  I cried.  Felt like I couldn’t even begin to put into words how horribly, terribly vulnerable I felt NOT only because he KNEW what I had eaten for the day; but he wasn’t going to let me just walk away and not talk about it.

Bastard. 

So we talked. Haltingly. He patiently waited me out as I tried to find the words to explain what was happening. I’m grateful that Spencer gave me the gift of generous patience as I was beginning to process 45 years of food issues out loud.  He helped to safely and gently open the flood gates.

I wrote all of this down in a journal. I immediately sought out the solace, advice and comfort of my friends the Gums. We sat in their home and had an honest, tough, problem-solving kind of conversation the night after the breakdown. (They’ve changed their lifestyles and have the type of relationship with food that I’m trying to build.) I am also working with a great therapist.  ALL of this is what I have put into place to figure out how to create and sustain a healthy relationship with food.

I know that this is a key issue I have to continue to work on.

I’m finally done hiding food or my eating habits from anyone.

The best way out is always through. – Robert Frost

 

Curls. A funny thing happened…

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 6 Comments
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Passport. 🙂 2003 (Close to 400 pounds, I think…)  and 2013 (close to 200 pounds).

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

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

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

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

It was an amazing time!

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

I was outright trading PRESCRIPTIONS for FOOD/ACTIVITY.

 

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

Natural, but new…

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

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

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

So how did I get curly hair?

 

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

Most of it fell out one morning in the shower.

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

So get this…

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

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

Well…

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

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

Who knew?!!

Here’s how it went down…

 

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

Huh.

That seems like a lot of hair.

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

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

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

Repeat a third time.

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

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

Look in the mirror.

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

I called my Doctor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

FIRE! (And shutting up…)

~ betsyhartley392 ~ Leave a comment
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One of the most generous listeners I know of, my friend Jennifer. 🙂 And one of the first ones to help me get a handle on the goal that was looming in front of me…

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

A fire I had forgotten about.

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

Here’s what happened earlier this week…

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A lot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Wendie and Bets. 🙂  

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

Really hard.

I shut the hell up.

AND I started to listen to the silence.

I had been right to stop talking.

The silence was really, really tense and full.

So I just kept breathing.

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

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

And then I waited for HER to fill the silence.

And she did.

Eventually.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It. Is. Theirs.

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

I could see me sitting across the table.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Could listening actually ignite a fire?

 

 

 

DREAMS and perspective.

~ betsyhartley392 ~ Leave a comment

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I am not a journaling kind of girl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  • I want to reverse type 2 diabetes.  

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

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

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

The gift of perspective is priceless.

Do you keep a journal?!!

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Obesity.

~ betsyhartley392 ~ Leave a comment
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Shay, firecracker Kora and I out for a walk! 🙂

My friend Shay said she had a blog idea for me.

‘This might be a touchy topic Bets, but you should talk frankly about what you think about obesity now that you are no longer in that medical category.’

Here are my thoughts on that topic… 🙂

At the time Shay sent me this note, I noticed a theme in my Facebook feed content; postings on fat acceptance, being ‘fat and happy’, miracle cures for  rapid weight loss, rampant and not-very-subtle, fat shaming. (Thin shaming is prevalent and malevolent as well, as my friend Taryn would remind me…)

Endless.

I feel that 80% of what I typically see is crap aimed at ‘helping’ people feel like there is a quick/effortless answer or trying to aggressively sell the ‘magic bullet’ to losing weight and getting healthy.

The part that I think is largely absent is discussion about managing and solving the oncoming tidal wave of issues headed our way given that 68.8% of our TOTAL U. S. population is currently estimated to be overweight or obese.

Let me say that again…

68pointfreaking8 percent of our U. S. population is currently overweight or obese.

Whoa.

A lot of the information out there is about ‘losing weight and getting healthy’, quick fixes or ‘loving who we are no matter what we look like’… There is not a lot of discussion to be found about solving the core issues surrounding the topic of obesity.

The hard issues and truths.

These are brutally difficult discussions to have because they are about people, their body and their very personal relationships to food/health/society.

So let’s take me for example. I mean, people approached me about my weight periodically.  And no matter what ANYONE tried to say or how they tried to say it, here is all that I ever HEARD…

‘Hey, Betsy, I can see you’re fat.

I don’t know if you know that.

Being fat is not a smart life-choice.  It’s not healthy. I’m sure no one has ever told you that.

Research backs me up.

I see a heart attack waiting to happen. I see that you are physically uncomfortable with every breath you take. And while you keep yapping about how you’re happy and healthy, I really think you’re protesting so loudly about being ‘happy’ because you’re trying to convince yourself that being fat and unhealthy is OK.

I think you’re too lazy to do the work to make your life different.

Why can’t you do a little work to try to save your own life?

Why can’t you just eat less and get moving..?”

Yeah.

THAT conversation – and variations on it that occurred over the years – never went well no matter who said it, how it was phrased or how loving or well-intentioned they might be in trying to help me find a path to health…

I really think they thought I would listen and not be defensive and immediately change everything I was doing…

Right.  

What would happen when someone tried to talk to me about losing weight? I would listen, thank them politely for their concern, be utterly humiliated and go find comfort food. Lots of comfort food. And then spend the rest of my life avoiding the person who tried to talk to me…

I obviously have some level of understanding on both sides of this issue now.

I hid from the conversations – real and imaginary – for years. Clinging with longing to those messages and ideas being pushed at me to demand that I be accepted exactly as I was, that society at large (pun intended…) is the one who had the problem with ‘fat acceptance’.  Not me.  Not my problem if they couldn’t accept what I looked like.

I was part of the obese population and related health problems for a very long time.  I didn’t want to face the core issues with my obesity and subsequent lifestyle-induced Type 2 diabetes. I wanted to convince those around me I was fine.  I wanted everyone to accept me as I was. I desperately wanted everyone to think I was a beautiful human inside and out. And there were endless conversation with friends looking for affirmation that I was indeed loved and worthy no matter my size.

From where I sit now… I can see that all of my posturing and fervent hoping was simply a way to avoid the core issues that I faced.

I was obese and unhealthy and didn’t want to do the work to NOT be obese. It is a hard work to change that kind of chronic thinking. And it is incredible amounts of on-going, non-stop work, to change life-long habits surrounding food and exercise.

Here’s what I think we need to acknowledge…

Obesity remains a taboo topic.

We have to quit ignoring the hard conversations about how obesity, and all that relates to it, is killing us and robbing our quality of life.

We need to talk openly about how the way to health, from obesity, is in most cases going to be a lot of hard, un-fun, not-sexy, work.

People need to take personal responsibility for their health and quit blaming ‘society’, genetics, life…  Those play a role, but in most cases they don’t have to OWN us…

So I’m going to do the only thing I can think to do…

I’m going to work, intentionally and consistently, to help shift the conversations with those around me.

I will talk less about weight and scales and talk more about fitness and quality of life and health.

I will be thoughtful about moving conversations away from diets and tricks and toward talking about life-long, healthy choices.

And  I want to talk purposefully and thoughtfully about reclaiming our LIVES from the grip of obesity while we still have the time and ability.

‘You have exactly one life in which to do everything you’ll ever do.  Act accordingly.  — Colin Wright

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On top of the world. 🙂

Life raft.

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 3 Comments
Ana Lu and I in the finisher's chute. Photo credit to Josh Gum.
Ana Lu and I, Mac 50K 2015. Photo credit, Josh Gum.

‘Running is 90% mental and 10% physical.’

This past two weeks… My brain handed me an a$$-whooping.

I have been in a battle with my brain. BIG. TIME.

And it was clearly winning.

Hands down this past 10 days or so have been the most mentally grueling days of running that I have had so far.

When you look at my Garmin/Strava – whatever would float your boat and give you information about my running – things looked pretty normal.

I can assure you my brain was NOT normal.

So what the heck happened?

I had a run a little over a week ago that left me feeling profoundly embarrassed.

I won’t go into details, because the more I actually spend time sorting this thing out,  the more I realize it is NOT about the details.

Not at all. 

It was entirely about how I reacted and the things I allowed my brain to latch onto and the things I kept telling myself  that just weren’t helpful or true.

A single run left me feeling embarrassed, humiliated and sad. And I let it get to me. I let it beat me down for over a week.

The next couple of runs following the ‘incident’ were horrible. Run a little. Stop and cry. Run a little. Walk in a crying tantrum. Run totally pissed off at myself and then stumble along crying in anger. I was oddly even more grateful in those moments that I run trail.  At least there were no human witnesses.

I had a recording of things running through my mind that were mean, uncharitable, nasty.

And I was listening to them intently.

And I was crying. A lot. I’m just not a crier.  That reaction alone was bewildering and confusing to me.

I had lunch with my friend Ana Lu the other day. I was explaining all of this; the process, the aftermath, some of my conclusions. I asked her what she did when/if she found herself in such a state of emotional turmoil.

For those of you who aren’t lucky enough to know Ana Lu, among the many great things about her; she is compassionate and unfailingly optimistic.

The one idea she had for me – that I think was particularly brilliant and helpful – was to build myself a ‘life raft’.

She told me to write myself a love letter, call a friend, pray, run in my favorite spot, read positive stories, journal, run with good friends who wouldn’t question my silence or tears, buy new music, put a huge note/poster on my wall with my next goal to keep me focused and excited…

And as an emotionally open person she told me (an avowed non-crier) that when I feel like crying mid-run I really just needed to STOP and cry my heart out – hold nothing back. Get it out of my system. No matter who’s watching. 🙂

She said I should use one or more of those ideas as my ‘life raft’.

She also told me I should blog about all of this. Not just because of the running aspect. She argued, that no one really talks openly about this side of the lifestyle change process.

It took me about three days after the ‘incident’ to realize that running was simply the trigger for this current emotional upheaval.  A conversation with my coach is what really helped me start to recognize and understand what was going on.

Ana Lu saw it too and she’s a good enough friend that she gently called me on it.

This wasn’t about running at all.

This was about self doubt. Fear. Lack of confidence. Shame. A distorted body image.

This was about the work that NOW needs to be done to help my brain catch up with where I’ve taken my body and my life.

And I think running is actually going to prove to be the perfect tool to help me figure this all out.

The maintenance portion/cementing lifestyle part of this whole journey is actually, statistically, harder than losing the weight.

Quick side note. Having been an overweight, chronic-dieter all of my life – I’ve always heard the idea about losing weight being the easy part… Quite honestly I thought people were totally full of crap when they said that.  Losing 220 pounds and reversing T2 diabetes was freaking HARD, relentless, scary work.  But now?  Now that I’m at a solid weight, eating healthy, staying active and focused on keep my weight within a healthy range… Turns out… They weren’t really full of it.

It’s all hard.

This ‘staying where you are’ stuff, holding strong to new lifestyle pieces you fought to reach, processing through the mental pieces that led to being almost 400 pounds after 40+ years?

This maintaining stuff is complicated and hard.

Ana Lu told me that statistics showed that once someone reaches their goal (whatever that lifestyle goal/shift/change may be) they are way more likely to bask in the glow of achievement for a short period of time and then quietly and slowly relapse into old habits.

Turns out that maintaining lifestyle changes is not the norm; it’s statistically not how the story ends for most folks.

I reached my goal of abolishing T2 diabetes and losing 220 pounds and learning to run…

So now what?

NOW I continue the hard work of hanging onto my lifestyle and really learning about my new life as it works day-in and day-out.  And continuing to diligently pitch some of the old crap – as I find it –  out of the boat along the way.

I’m not the same person I was.

I loved my old life and I love my new life.

I just have to keep working to help my brain catch-up with where I’m at. 🙂

Thanks to Ana Lu’s idea, I now have a teeny-tiny emergency life raft cobbled together. It is anchored close by and ready to go for the next run.

Do you have a life raft?

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Ana Lu, Carlos, me and Spencer. Dimple Hill. 

I’m so sorry…

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 10 Comments
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Jeff, Wendie, Josh, Taryn and I. Running to the finish line of the 2014 Eugene Marathon to watch Hannah cross the line with a Boston qualifying time! (Photo Taryn Hand)

I have had two conversations this past month with women who were obese and working their BEHINDS off to get healthy.  Both are 12 months or more into their transformations. They’re determined. Loving the changes they are experiencing. It is great FUN to talk to them! (One of them is successfully and aggressively reversing Type 2 diabetes!)

Conversations with people chasing down new and healthy lifestyles almost always find their way to the topic of learning how to love running/exercise/activity.  How do you make activity a permanent part of your new life? Making the time in your daily routine, have accountability partners, signing up for classes, having a goal…  We rehashed all the tricks that work.

Individually they finally expressed the same underlying concern…

They want to start running and know that they will be more successful in learning how/sticking to the habit if they were to join in on walks/runs with other people.

But they’re worried and embarrassed and fearful…

‘People will make fun of me.’

‘They’ll get frustrated at having to wait for me because I’m so slow.’

‘Maybe I should wait until I’m in shape and thin before trying to run with anyone.’

‘I won’t be able to keep up.’

I KNOW the feeling.

I remember the fears with stark clarity.  I was in the same boat when I started.  I will admit that I even dip my toes back in those waters of self-doubt periodically if I’m tired, or feel intimidated or I am trying something new….

Fearful and apologetic…

The layer of fear and trepidation and hesitation was more suffocating than the layers of fat I was wearing…

Here’s the advice I passed along.  (I work to keep this front and center of my brain even now…)

1. Find a group/person that specifically says ‘everyone welcome’.  Take them at their word.

2. Be honest about your abilities and goals.  If you can run a 14 minute mile – and you are working to run two miles in a row.  GREAT!  Tell them. No shame, no bragging, no apologies. If you won’t be able to keep up or there’s another group that’s more your speed; they WILL tell you!

3. Plan to have fun!  Enjoy being outside, with other people who love to be active.  The enthusiasm of being around people who love what they’re doing is contagious.  Try to leave your insecurities and discomfort and fears in the car.  Be positive about what you think you’ll experience and you will be surprised how often your expectations become reality.

4. And last, but perhaps the most important? DO NOT APOLOGIZE… Groups that run with a variety of abilities often have pre-set spots where they’ll re-group mid-run. When you arrive to the group of runners who are waiting for the rest of the group to gather up before heading off on their next section; do not apologize for being the last one to arrive or for making them wait.  Just don’t apologize for anything… You’re giving it 100% of your best effort. You’re moving and trying and growing and being brave — and they know it.  They’re happy you are out there with them.  I promise you that this is the truth.

Apologizing highlights your insecurities.  Chronic apologizers can be tiresome for even the hardiest, most supportive of souls…

I know.

I did it for YEARS….

I spent decades apologizing.  For being fat.  For being in someone’s space.  For not fitting in my airplane seat.  For having to have special accommodations for my size/diabetes.  For being the last runner up the hill.

I spent the first year running apologizing left and right.  ‘Uh… HELLO.  Look at me.  280 pounds and literally shuffling along in a 10K and trying not to die.’  I didn’t belong in this world of runners and I just KNEW someone wanted to tell me that; and didn’t have the guts.  Make no mistake — I was giving it 100% effort every single time I put on my running shoes!  But I knew I didn’t look like any of the others who were out there at the event…

My reaction?  (The reaction I’ve used my entire life?!)  Self-defense mechanisms firing like a freaking machine gun…

Apologize profusely before anyone can point out the obvious.

I went on my very first trail run with my friend Josh Gum.

He’s the first person who asked me to go on a run with him. He wants everyone to learn to love trail running like he does. He said he would run/walk/hike — whatever it was I was capable of doing/wanting to do that day. For some odd reason, I just trusted that he was telling me the truth.

I was nervous as hell – and apologizing all over the place for the first few months I was able to find time to run with him.  He would run ahead at times and I would catch up and apologize for making him wait…  He would stay with me for bits and we would chat about running and life and tell jokes and I was hammering him with questions about running/trails/food/lifestyle shifts.  Chafing.  Good lord.  We talked a lot about preventing chafe. 🙂  I would routinely apologize for holding him back from running faster. Or if I was sucking wind and just trying to hang on and run a little bit further…  He would tell me stories, not let me quit or we would run in companionable silence.   I would apologize for being so slow when I could finally breathe again.

At one point he tired of telling me to stop apologizing.  He told me, gently yet firmly, he was done listening to me apologize for learning to run and giving things 100% and I needed to knock it off.

I needed to stop doing it for my own good.

I had nothing to apologize for.

I walked away and really thought about what Josh said.  STILL think about that short, yet important, conversation.  I need to ask him about it one of these days, but I figure he thought I would work ‘apologizing’ out of my system with some confidence and experience running.  When he realized it was just a bad, self-deprecating habit that didn’t belong in my life or my new lifestyle I was building; he cared enough to call me on it.

And I trusted him enough to listen.

Honestly?  You might run into competitive, mean, snobby, impatient, whiny, defensive, judgmental folks in your journey to learn to make activity a solid part of your life.  But be fair about that for just a moment… We run into jerks in all walks of life. It’s just that we’re hyper-tuned to it around our bodies/running/sweating because we’re feeling so horribly vulnerable.  In so many aspects of life we – as strong and smart people –  tumble/fight/persevere through those interpersonal obstacles multiple times a day and don’t even look back. But jerks exist.  Just don’t go running with them a second time.  🙂

You WILL also be blessed beyond measure to find some amazing, strong, fun, funny, wise, kind people on this journey to health!  Keep your eyes wide open.  There are LOTS of good people out there that will support, encourage, nudge you along when you need it the most.

What advice would you give to someone just starting out on their journey to become active?

Compare and contrast

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 2 Comments
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Family time at Disney. Dan, Deb, Justin, Joey. My mom went the year Disney opened the park.  Disney celebrates its 60th anniversary this year!

‘Please pull the lap bar firmly down on your lap.’

Some situations lend themselves to comparisons.  You can’t help it. You have too much experience with it not to recognize in a moment of history-driven clarity, some of the changes that have occurred over your lifetime.

Disneyland is one of those situations and places for me.

I grew up in So Cal, a life-long fan of the Disney enterprises.  Some of my fondest childhood memories are of Walt’s Magic Kingdom and time with family and friends.

I was just there on a short trip with my sister, bro-in-law and nephews.  A MUCH needed vacation with my family.

I’ve been to Disneyland on and off my entire life.  This was the first time I’ve been here since I’ve been at a set, comfortable weight and also solid and happy with my eating habits.  I’m in a good spot. It was fun to be back to Disney to see how my new lifestyle meshed with my old stomping grounds.  Happy old with happy new. 🙂

I did discover that walking by corn dogs, endless candy, Dole whip or Churros is still NOT easy.

In fact…

It’s STILL damn hard.

Which isn’t really that surprising.

Those foods have very happy memories tied to them.

I realized that very little with Disney is really hunger driven (except for screaming toddlers — that could be hunger or nap!) it’s mostly driven by emotion, smell, impulse, boredom (from waiting in lines!), marketing/availability or crowd pressure.

I’ve been at Disney when I was 400 pounds and now at a healthy weight, with more established eating habits; there was a BIG difference in how I experienced Disneyland this time around…

Lot’s of comparison moments. And my family was chiming in with ‘remember when…’ comments. It wasn’t just me thinking them.

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Disney 5 years ago. My sis and I went the year my mom died. I’m probably close to 285 pounds in this picture. 

The one thing that remains the same?  The MAGIC of time, laughter and fun with your sister, bro-in-law and nephews. 🙂

Here’s the random collection of what I noticed this time around…

You can not help but recognize that food has strong emotional ties in a place like Disney. And even when you LOVE your new life, planned carefully, brought most of your own food and you KNOW you feel like crap when you eat junky foods….  You still smell a waffle cone baking or see someone eating a Mickey Mouse designed caramel apple and it’s all you can do not to go find it/eat it.  I spent a lot of time reminding myself that while the smell triggered happy thoughts, I most certainly didn’t have to actually eat anything to enjoy the moment or the memory.  Lots of brain calisthenics while standing in line for rides relating to food and hunger.  And a few accountability/reality check-in texts to a friend helped too.

My nephew Joey was riding with me on a ride. It gives the instructions that the smaller person should sit to the inside.  He innocently told me I had to get in the ride first.  I smiled HUGE and laughed.  He was totally confused.  He’s 6 feet tall. I’m like 5’7″, maybe. 🙂 However, I clearly remember when he and his brother were little dudes and I couldn’t ride on rides with a set lap bar with them — because when it touched down on my ‘lap’ — it wouldn’t have protected them at all.  My lap was too big.  The lap bar now TOUCHES my lap, it’s doesn’t land awkwardly on my belly.  Such a cool sensation to feel that lap bar touch down on the tops of my thighs. 🙂

Waiting in the ques for rides, I can walk normally through the turnstiles and size-restricted openings they use to control crowds.  I didn’t have to turn to the side or shimmy through narrow openings and hope that I and my belly would fit.  And if we (me and my belly) didn’t fit easily, I clearly remember the embarrassing gymnastics required to fit through the openings or to fit into rides desperately hoping that NO ONE NOTICED.

I rode the swings in California Adventure for the first time ever. Loved it. Knew I would. Rode next to Justin and laughed and screamed and enjoyed flying through the air the entire time.  I’ve always wanted to ride those swings, but they had a 250 pound maximum limit.

I am no longer a T2 diabetic, however, I still know where all the Sharp’s containers are located through both parks.  I noticed that at the end of the day the containers were nearly full.  Most of them look like insulin needles.  I KNOW those syringes are used for other things, but I got to wondering just how many T2’s were walking around the park with me…

Walking around and even standing for long periods of time felt GOOD.  I’m physically fit this time around.  It was not a chronic pain-fest of trying to move forward, covered in blisters and chafe and miserable from the heat and looking for a place to sit because I was totally exhausted from simply standing and walking.

Food? I packed a lot of my own stuff and carried at least a meal’s worth of snacks in my purse into the park each day.  I stuck to my plant-based eating the entire time. Was it easy? Not too bad to be honest. Disney actually has some great plant-based eating options if you look around. I rather enjoyed the challenge of trying to find healthy, plant-based options. And made several happy discoveries!

I am grateful for my family and to be able to spend time with them.  The boys are growing up so danged fast.  There will come a time when vacationing with their Auntie is not high on their list.  Thankfully, that time is not now. 🙂

I do continue to battle the daily fear and anxiety that ANY break from this carefully crafted new lifestyle will land me back welcoming my old, unhealthy ways with wide-open arms.  That didn’t happen this time.

It felt good to break from the routines of life and yet really miss them at the same time. Food, exercise, sleep. And then to be just as excited to get back into the routines seamlessly and happily. I loved Disney AND I’m excited and ready to get back to running.  How cool is that??!  🙂

I was also reminded that this new lifestyle is good, hard work, ever-evolving and not to be taken for granted for even a single day.

All of this is a CHOICE.

One bite at a time. One step at a time.

My job is to just keep making one good choice after another as often as I can.

Vacation to Disney with my family was a great choice.

Boundaries.

~ betsyhartley392 ~ 2 Comments
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If only all boundaries were this clear… 🙂

One of the pieces of this whole lifestyle/T2 diabetes/weight loss journey that has been the most mind boggling to me?

Boundaries.

Some I had to learn, some I have to set and some I’m just now stumbling into.

In the trail/ultra running world that I have fallen in love with — it’s all about respecting, learning and pushing boundaries. Then you train and work to get past perceived and real boundaries.  (Feel the fear, ignore the temporary pain and do it anyway.)

Then there’s people. Holy smokes. Hands down, relationships and boundaries involving people have been the hardest for me. Figuring out where boundaries might be helpful, testing the waters, re-setting, communicating, re-enforcing those new boundaries.

I know I’m writing a blog about ALL KINDS of deeply personal stuff.  I’m almost always willing to be in intimate conversations with people (even strangers!) who want advice or need a listening ear or want to share their successes. I speak publicly, openly, honestly about the journey I’ve been on, what I’ve learned and the changes I’ve made in my life.

So I understand that what I’m about to say is an odd, conflicting confession of sorts…

I have also been establishing some boundaries.

I have never considered myself a guarded person. This has been new and uncomfortable ground for me.

Yet, in the past two years I found myself in a place where I had to put up some defenses to protect myself and my newly established habits.

It threw me off balance for quite some time.

I did what I usually do at first when things get difficult; I ignored it all. (Genetic trait, I’m pretty sure.)  Big, scary, hard topics coupled with the fact that I harbor a sincere, deeply embedded worry that I might disappoint or hurt someone. So, I just averted my eyes and hoped it would all settle out, resolve itself, go away…

Even when it was painfully obvious that ignoring some of these growing issues was not a sustainable or healthy strategy… I continued to fight it because it just felt wrong and selfish.

‘Daring to set boundaries is about having the courage to love ourselves, even if we risk disappointing others.’ — Brene Brown

I was 392 pounds, insulin dependent, Type 2 Diabetic.

I successfully battled diabetes and lost a lot of weight (non-surgical).  I’m told that losing that amount of weight and reversing full-blown T2 is a rare, single-digit feat of accomplishment.

That low percentage seems legit to me, given that I have only found a handful of people who have done the same thing in successfully re-inventing their lifestyle.

Please understand — I absolutely have stalwart friends, cheerleaders, support and encouragement.  100%.  More than 100% at times.

I was 2 years into my journey when I finally connected with a handful of individuals across the US who had ‘walked in my shoes’ and truly understood what I was trying to do.  They’d been there.  Done that.

It was so exciting to finally make these connections!

Over time, in conversations with each of them, they have all expressed roughly the same version of sentiments about our respective journeys…

It’s a lonely, hard, life-changing, I-will-never-go-back, you-really-have-to-do-it-on-your-own, kind of road.

The other common angst that emerged from conversation with these folks?

Just because we have lost 100+/reversed T2 does not mean we are ready or able to help someone else with their journey.

No matter how badly we may want to. No matter how much others want us to be able to help them.

Hearing this insight being repeated from others in various stages of their journeys, was hugely interesting to me.  I was struggling with this very issue. I saw my lack of being able to handle the pressure of it all as a serious character flaw.

They helped me begin to see it for what it was; just another part of the process.

I’m still learning how to thrive and survive and maintain in this new world I’m building.

I mean – c’mon… I’m new to this!

I spent 42 years obese, sedentary and making really poor food choices.  I was a freaking expert at living an unhealthy life.

I’ve only been learning and living this new healthy life for 4 short years.

The truth is that I was routinely getting overwhelmed by the fact that even though I’ve been IN this journey; I couldn’t answer all of their questions, I couldn’t help everyone find (or stay on) their own path and I couldn’t fully support other people emotionally on their own journeys.

I’m one person who’s still trying to figure out her own life.

It’s really an impossible equation, yet one I was trying to own and live up to whole-heartedly.

Last year two of my good friends talked bluntly with me about setting boundaries. In their own ways they said they were watching me struggle, quite inelegantly and painfully, with trying to be counselor/coach/cheerleader/emotional support for a cadre of people near and far.

And they could see it was hurting me.

‘Bets, have you thought about the fact that you could likely ‘drown’ while trying to help someone else?’

They were hard, good conversations.

I’m not a crier.

There were plenty of tears as I really tried to accept what they were telling me and then figure out what I was going to do about it all… I mean – I KNOW I was put on this planet to help people.

Know that for a fact.

Yet, they were telling me a very basic truth…

If I’m not focused and actively working on being healthy and whole and stable; What good can I possibly do for anyone else?

As I continue to figure out what I need, how I feel, what makes me feel strong and what I really struggle with — I keep working on boundaries.

Not the kind of boundaries that cut me off from the world and box me in.  That’s not at all the goal.

I’m working on living/healthy boundaries that protect and nourish and help me feel safe enough to take some bigger, stronger steps. The kind of boundaries that will ultimately allow me to help others and stay on my feet (running!) for years to come.

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Testing boundaries in trail & ultra running.

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