Monday, June 19, 2017

Mental block

Mentally, I am ready run, lift weights, sweat on the cardio machines, run the trail.  I'm ready to get out there and do my thing.  Why is it so hard, then, when it actually comes time to do it?

Thursday night I was out late, at a concert, by myself.  I got to the parking garage 5 minutes too early for the "cheap" parking, which apparently doubled since the last time I parked in that garage.  (mental note to self)  I spent a whopping $27 AND left the concert early.

But, this wasn't just for the show.  This was also an exercise in me getting out there, on my own.  Since getting married, or even a year or more before then, I have been  making excuses not to go out and have fun.  (I actually mentioned that in my previous post)  some of my reasons have been real, some have been exaggerated.  So Thursday night I went to this show, but went to the beer garden beforehand.  I had beer.  So much beer.  But I had a great time because I could just chill, at a bar that was kind of outside, on a nice sunny day, and people watch and not have a care in the world.  I haven't done that in a long time.  The show was good, but they didn't play the songs I wanted to hear so I left before the encore was finished, cleared out my bank account at the parking machine, and tootled on home.

The next morning I'd hoped to get up at about 7am and go to the trail.  I was so tired though.  I got up closer to 9:30am, and watched TV.  Around lunch time, my friend texted me because we made plans to hang out, and she had an idea we could work out beforehand, at her gym and then have sushi next door.  This suggestion gave me the motivation to go to my own gym, by myself, and engage in an 80-minute sweat session from which I still feel a little sore.  It was fantastic.  I haven't been to the gym since, and already know I'll be making excuses later for why I can't change and get my ass to my gym.  But WHY?

I am SO ready.  And I was supposed to have lost 15lb by now and be fully trained up for my 5k on Sunday.  The more I think about it, the more I WANT to work out.  After work, I have to pick up my race packet.  I love the thought of a race.  It gives me an adrenaline rush.  It should be inspiring.  But I make excuses, and have bailed on so many of the most recent races I signed up for.  I wish I could just snuff out this mental block.  If only I could keep this inspiring feeling going for another 3 and a half hours...

Thursday, June 15, 2017


I got yelled at on Sunday.  What happened was, I was having drinks and snacks with a group of people before a concert.  My friend was telling me about "adult onesies" (something I still don't fully understand) and brought up a birthday party, which I didn't attend, where she wore her onesie. (like below)
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Halloween 2010
I confessed to her that the costume theme of the party was a little off-putting.  I do not like to dress up, and I don't like Halloween.

I think there are at least a couple reasons for that- 1) it draws attention to me and I kind of like to fade into the background. 2) no one ever seems to know what I am. One year, feeling confident in my new size 10 bod, I put on a little flowy dress, pink, but reminiscent of Tinkerbelle, glitter on my face, and a pair of lovely wings on my back.  EVERYONE asked me what I was.  Another time, I was wearing a plaid shirt, jeans, a straw hat, and had painted stitching on my face.  It was obvious to me that I was a scarecrow.  Again, EVERYONE asked me what I was.

After my confession, this friend burst out "Is THAT why you didn't come?  That's RIDICULOUS!  I invite you to things and you never come!  I'd like to see you!  I don't know what else to do to get you to come to things!"  She seemed exasperated.  I was thinking to myself "I didn't even know you cared..."

And then I felt like I was expected to apologize.  Except I didn't feel like apologizing.  I just felt awkward.  I have been depressed.  When I am depressed, I withdraw.  I don't recall anyone trying to find out why I don't go out anymore, or expressing concern.  They just simply went away.  I don't think I need to apologize for being sad or withdrawn or self-conscious.  I have been feeling awful and I have been feeling alone because I don't hear from anyone.

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Me at about 170lb-175lb, attending a summer concert with about a dozen other people
A few years ago, after losing about 110lb, I started gaining weight back.  I have now gained it all back and then some.  I'm embarrassed.  I feel ugly.  I don't recognize this body.  I'm bloated, often in pain, and none of my clothes fit.  I feel like I shouldn't be allowed to take up space.  I went from 260lb to 168lb back to 265lb.  I feel disgusting.

In 2012 I bought my house, and shortly after that I changed jobs.  When I was invited to things, I couldn't afford the outing or didn't have time to take off from work.  It felt like everyone else was getting closer and I was more and more on the periphery, quickly becoming an outsider in my own circle of friends with whom I used to spend 3 nights a week sometimes.

My mom died in 2014 and my entire world just shattered.  I couldn't smile; it was like my light went out.  No one understood.  I felt like I was receiving orders to just be happy and move on, like nothing had happened.  But it wasn't that simple for me.  I wasn't me anymore.  I cried all the time and I stopped knowing how to socialize.  I felt like I didn't know what to talk about other than being sad and no one wanted to hear that.  I retreated.

My whole life I wanted to be included and I never was because I was the fat girl no one would talk to and I've never been good at faking it.  When I lost weight, finally felt like I fit in, and then things just started falling apart when I started gaining.

Thing is, I miss having friends.  I'm lonely.  But now I'm not invited to much.  So after a little bit of awkwardness, this friend started telling me about upcoming things I should come to.  I now have to make an effort, which I already knew.  It's really hard to get out of your own head though, you know?

Monday, June 12, 2017

I ran

I planned to get up early on Saturday morning with every intention to run around my neighborhood, 3-4 miles, before it got too hot.  I knew that I probably wouldn't run the much of it, certainly not the majority, but by golly, I was going to do it.
At some point during the morning I re-set my alarm for a little later, but still giving myself time to get out of the house before 8am to run.  I ended up doing some things around the house, watering the garden, picking more chard and kale.  I did get out of the house to do my run though, around noon or so.
Anxiety keeps me from doing a lot of things.  This includes running around my neighborhood.  On Saturday, I reidscovered, or maybe more accurately, remembered something I'd remarked on in the past.  There was virtually no one outside in my neighborhood.  Yes, it was pretty hot.  The temps had suddenly jumped from pleasant mid-70s during the day to low 90s.  But it was beautiful outside.  Granted, the sun was beating down, owing to the lack of cloud cover, and that intensified the heat.  But it was still beautiful.  And with no one in sight, I did my thing.  My stomach was sloshing from the brunch I'd had not that long before.  I got a little spinny-headed at one point.  But I did my thing and I loved it.  My take-aways from Saturday:
1) It wasn't that scary.
2) I need to work on my running.
3) Despite needing practice, I still got it.
4) I must bring hydration every time I go out.

So Sunday rolls around and I have afternoon plans and we get a later start than I want.  We have a beautiful omelette cooked by moi.  I need to head to the bank, but really want to take a walk.  The temps are supposed to be higher than Saturday.
I head out for a walk, and at some point early on think gee it'd be nice to run this block.  So I did.  I was only out for about 20 minutes.  I didn't run as much as the day before, and was wearing the wrong, unsupportive sports bra, but somehow I managed to run a little faster than the previous day.

I conquered my fear for two days in a row.  I really hope I can keep this up.

Thursday, June 8, 2017

Fear and loathing

I've been reading a lot of fitness advice again lately, looking for the magic key or some magic word or magic formula that will be THE answer to my weight problem.  We all do it.  that's why diet pills and diets in general are so popular.  THIS is the magic fix!  THIS will make me skinny!  THIS will make me like myself.

It doesn't work that way.  So I'm reading and reading and not finding the answer.  And I look longingly at pictures of runners and fitness gurus.  "I used to be able to run that far and feel great after."  "I remember when my muscles rippled like that."  "I was kind of thin once."  "I used to be fit."

Why is it USED TO?  Why is it just a memory?  Because I'm scared.  I am scared.  I saw a man this morning, running.  And his run was some people's slow walk, but that man was running.  And I thought to myself, I'd maybe be running at that speed.  But I'm scared.  And that runner inside my head, the one that reminds me how good I'll feel, and how it helps to clear my mind, and don't I want to go out and look at people's gardens and listen to nature sounds, retreated.  She pulled her hood up, bowed her head, and went in the house to eat buttered popcorn and look at catalogs from the fat lady clothing store, ready to resign herself to being the fat girl forever.

But why?  What happened to me?  Why am I so scared to just live my life and be happy again?

I have been on a (sort of) low carb diet with my man.  He is much more successful than I.  He lost 10lb in the first week.  I lost no weight.  He's been more strict.  I can't seem to lay off the sugar.  I can mostly avoid it or avoid it for like, 5 days or so, but then I do something stupid and eat all the carbs.  Yesterday was a terrible carb-errific day.  And now I feel sluggish and tired and just blech.  You'd think I'd learn from this right?  Nope.  This morning was breakfast in the copy room.  4 triscuits, half a bagel, a piece of "brown bread," and the piece of strawberry pie my friend made for me, and I'm tired and blech still.  So much for the no breakfast and salad only for lunch that I'd planned.  I don't know what my problem is.

 And exercise?  I'm supposed to be running.  I signed up for a virtual race.  Monet themed.  I haven't done one solitary goddamned mile yet.  Have I had the time?  Sure.  But I didn't do it.  Last time I lost weight I was motivated by wanting to run way from my bad relationship, then I was single and wanting attention.  I refuse to leave my husband or cheat on him, so what the hell is my motivation?  Because feeling like shit doesn't seem to be enough for me.  My knee problems, the super embarrassing fall I had at the liquor store that was probably felt a mile away, being mistaken for the two largest (I thought) ladies in my office- NONE of those things seem motivating enough.

If I'm afraid of failure, that doesn't make sense, because not even starting guarantees failure.  That failure has made me retreat in just about everything in my personal life.  I don't want to socialize because I am so embarrassed about how big I've gotten.  I don't get invited to things anymore.  I'm not that pleasant to be around anyway.  I am uncomfortable all the time, and hate how I look in the clothes I keep having to buy a size bigger.  Something needs to change.

Who cares, if I'm fat?

It's been over a month since my last post.  I'm not sure anyone minds, exept for me, since I am pretty sure this blog has an audience of 1.  Truthfully, I'm not even sure if I'm doing this blog thing correctly, or if I will really regret putting some of these things out there.

Something has been weighing on me lately (no pun intended), and that is: FAT.  I'm talking about fat, in all its forms.  There's the fat that's on your meat, in your dairy, in avocados, and oils, and anything else you eat.  There's fat as a descriptor, such as I am fat, you are fat, he/she/it is fat.  And then there's fat as a concept.  Like, "oh my god, I'm soo fat." Or "America is too fat." Or "stop calling me fat."  Lastly, there is the subject of fitness and fatness.

Let's start with the first one.  Fat in food.  Some food has fat, some does not.  Fat tastes good.  It also can give foods a pleasing texture.  Fat is necessary for your body to absorb some vitamins.  Fat, they are now saying, doesn't exclusively MAKE you fat, and also, does not contribute significantly to cholesterol.  Take the humble egg.  It has two parts- white and yolk.  The yolk is mostly fat, but, it also provides protein and vitamins.  The white is all protein and has very few calories.  A large egg, in its whole form, has about 70 calories.  I love eggs.  Boiled, fried, scrambled (but not poached), I love love love eggs.  I have witnessed women throw the yolk away, because "it's all fat anyway."  And, we have been taught that fat is the enemy.  I'm here to tell you that is not the case.  Fat is a necessary evil.  It is a nutrient.  It helps you feel full, digest vitamins, and gives you healthier hair and skin.  Fat is also necessary for brain development, controlling inflammation, and blood clotting.  You NEED fat.  Fat is not the enemy.

Fat is not a dirty word.  Fat has been used in slander and insults since.. whenever.. always maybe?  But in and of itself, it is not a dirty word.  It is a word that only your meaning and interpretation can (pardon the pun again) give weight to.  Fat is a descriptor, a state of being, like being tall or short or smart or stupid.  Being fat is seen as a bad thing, so it has a negative connotation.  But it really shouldn't.  Fat people know they are fat.  You don't need to tell them about it.  I am fat.  Yes, I am fat.  Recently, I commented on conversation that bloomed on a Facebook post I made, describing how I'd had a difficult workout.  A discussion about running shoes started, and I commented that I had been fitted for shoes, but am currently too fat to run without pain, so good shoes don't matter as much to my knees right now.  To which someone replied "that comment wasn't directed at you," or, basically, "I wasn't talking to you."  On my page.  I deleted the whole thread because it pissed me off so much.  You're having a conversation on MY page and then tell me to butt out of the conversation?  I can't say for sure if it was my fat comment that caused discomfort, and then that response, but it's quite possible.  People these days are more than willing to say nasty hurtful things to other people, whom they don't know or don't like, but if someone you like or care about says something about themselves that you interpret as putting themselves down, you are uncomfortable.  It's human nature.  You know what though?  I am 246lb.  I. AM. FAT.  No arguments, that is what I am.  It wasn't an insult, but an explanation about why my joints hurt, and one of the major reasons I'm trying to lose weight.

I was recently trolled on a discussion thread.  Someone wrote an article (about a year ago, it turns out) about how she didn't understand the body acceptance movement and that she thought it just promotes unhealthy behavior.  I can't remember the specifics, but she said a couple of really insulting things, probably along the lines of fat people are stupid and lazy, and several of us in the community were insulted and felt the need to comment.  I think whatever my response was, it was fairly intelligent and thought out.  I usually don't post comments on public forums like that, but felt like I should, having some knowledge about the subject of fat, fat acceptance, weight loss, and fitness.  And then I got a comment "you're obese."  Mmmkay...  and there were a few more, but the troll kept calling me "honey" and actually said "you don't run marathons."  Um, yes, yes I do.  Well, half, but how many times have you run 13 miles consecutively?

The only insult being hurled at me, and everyone else on that thread, was "you're obese."  So what?  So fucking WHAT?  Why is it your business?  People who crusade for the thinness of the nation like to talk about healthcare costs.  Fat people do, potentially, cost the healthcare system money.  So do thin people.  Thin people have heart attacks, break legs, get sick.  I have never broken a bone, I am not diabetic.  I am not on a huge amount of medications.  I get one sinus infection per year, and two colds, for which I buy over the counter.  Don't tell me you CARE about my health and then try to accuse me of costing my neighbors money because I'm so unhealthy.  I exercise, drink water, eat lots of veggies.  I have good teeth, my blood pressure is in the normal range, and my cholesterol has always been great.  But why do I need to explain this to you?

Wednesday, May 11, 2016

I suck at blogging

I suck at blogging. I really do.  I think I'm a decent writer.  There are a few people who think I'm funny.  Probably fewer who think I'm interesting, but there are one or two, and I don't know that many people, so it's possible there are more.  But I can't, for the life of me, seem to keep up with this blogging stuff.  I have ideas, and lots of thoughts.  One of the bloggers I used to read called them "head movies."  LOTS of those.  I play scenarios over and over in my head.  I compose letters and plan conversations, and occasionally, I come up with some stuff I think would be really great to blog.  But it never makes it here.

So I was just reading another blogger that I just discovered, and it made me want to blog, and all I could come up with is "I suck at blogging."  I think I also don't have a true focus.  It seems like that's required.  I like to run (or used to) so I read runner blogs and weight loss blogs.  They're focused.  They write about running, and food, and weight loss.  They write about races and how great, or not, the races were.  They post pictures.  Seems pretty simple, right?

This blog was supposed to be about my struggle with weight loss and food and running.  I'm not sure I've been that focused.  And I haven't been that focused in real life either, truth be told.  I started blogging, the second time around, right after my mom died.  I haven't been okay.  I knew that I wasn't okay but I couldn't reel myself in.  I kept trying and failing.  I'd sign up for races and not go.  I'd sign up for races and go and then sign up for more races and be under-trained or injured so I'd end up not going.  There's one of those on May 21, in fact.  A half marathon in what I hear is a beautiful place.  I had originally signed up for a 10k, but hurt my back and had to defer.  Then they eliminated the 10k, so I could do a 5k or a half marathon.  I thought, with a year to train, I can do the half!

I'm running a sub 15-minute pace 5k right now, but a half is out of the question.  After I run I feel great and then feel like my body is breaking down. So, I decided not to go because it was too hard on me both physically, and mentally since I was putting so much pressure on myself.  Now I'm working on nutrition and getting back into a regular exercise habit.  This week, I'm doing odd days (M-W-F) and at least one weekend day.  I'd like to build up to 30 minutes 6 days per week.

I stopped drinking alcohol on Monday.  Today is Wednesday.  There was a time when I hardly drank, but it became a habit, so I'm stopping altogether for the rest of May and then I'll see if I want to add it in once a week or something.

An I'm waiting for the bloat and the extra weight to just disappear.  It can't happen fast enough.  I'm scared to weigh myself because I'm pretty certain I've gained at least 20lb since the last time I weighed myself.  I am in a constant battle with myself to be better and be something I'm not and then I convince myself I'll never be whatever that is I want to be.  But I'm trying.  Again.  I keep coming back- one of these times, it has to stick, right?

Friday, December 11, 2015

10k reasons I don't want to go to my high school reunion.

I finally did it.  I ran my g-d virtual 10k.  Can I get a hallalujah? <crickets>
Ok, fine, whatever.  I'm pleased with myself though.  I started Saturday as I have lately.  The night before I made sure that I had clean running clothes.  I even got some of my gear out and ready to go.  Then Saturday morning I drank too much coffee and had to pee every 5 minutes.  Then I ate a slightly too heavy breakfast (I can't remember what it was though).  Then I started thinking how time was ticking away and I really needed to get stuff done around the..  oh just get your gear on and go out already.  So I got dressed, sat on the sofa a few minutes.  Went to the computer and mapped a route.  Then I decided to run in my dad's neighborhood.  My stepmother had asked me to pick up their mail and put it on their porch since they were away.  I could do that and then run.  After peeing about 3 more times, I finally left.  I've run in that neighborhood tons of times.  I lived with them for about 3 years, right around the time I started running.  While in my current neighborhood I have trouble coming up with a 5 mile route, in my dad's, I can easily plot out 12 miles.  Before I even started, I began to bargain with myself. "well, it is kinda late, and it's good you just got out there at all, so you know, if you only do about 4 that's ok.."  No.  It's not ok.  Get it together woman.  This is just 10k.  So I started out.  I couldn't find my Garmin (later located in my living room under a pile of mail. My organizational skills are beyond superior.) so I was running with MapMyWalk.  I decided not to even look at my phone until I was sure I was getting close.  I tried not to pay too much attention to how many miles I did, but the whole time I was keenly aware anyway.  I'd run this route many many times before.  Just past 4 miles, my resolve started to waiver.  I really didn't wanna do it anymore.  But I kept on.
"Just to the end of this street and back and then we can look."  I had to go back and forth on one road to finish out the distance, but I did it.  Exactly 6.2 miles.  I slowed after mile 4, partly due to having to cross a busy road in front of traffic, and partly due to being really effing tired by then.  But, even slowing down, I finished 8 whole seconds faster than the bridge race.  Take THAT!  If I manage the same pace at my next 5k, I will run a full 15 seconds faster per mile than the race in October.

And somehow, even though I felt so great that I had to brag on Facebook, and text my husband, and one of my best friends, and my dad, I'm already getting the self doubt. And that brings me to the next topic. My high school 20th reunion is next year.  I answered the invitation with a strong "maybe."  When I graduated high school I couldn't get away fast enough.  I didn't hate school, but I didn't like the other students much.  And for most of the 4 years there, I felt that a lot of them disliked me, if they even knew I existed. I'm not going to blame other people for what has happened or hasn't happened in my life since then.  But I will tell you- high school was rather miserable for me.  I was the fat girl, and was often picked on by boys and girls alike. When I was crying in my bedroom at night, I'd dream of a day where I'd be the most beautiful and the most famous and I'd show them. 6 years ago, when I was 80lbs down, and continuing to get smaller, I, for the first time, thought about going to a reunion and being the confident person I always wanted to be.  Then I gained the weight back and now I really don't want to go.  Mostly, I can't be skinny Hannah as I'd envisioned.  I failed at the biggest success I ever had.  I don't have a real career to be proud of.  I'm not rich, my house is tiny, and I don't have children.  I wouldn't be going for social purposes, because by and large, the people who rsvp'd "yes" are people I'd never want to socialize with anyway.  So just thinking about the reunion makes me feel like a failure.

This has been a bad week in general.  Last year at the holidays, I was still numb from losing my mom.  This year, I completely feel it.  I cried on the way home last night.  I cried on the way to work this morning.  I almost started crying while walking from my car to the office.  I started getting really depressed around Thanksgiving.  We scattered her ashes around that time last year.  I think it'll always be a difficult holiday, but I have decided that when I can, I'll go up to Chesapeake City around then and do some Christmas shopping and have a nice lunch.  At least then I can associate something positive with it, and spend time "visitng" mom without moping.

So now that I've identified that I'm depressed, and probably will be for a bit, not to mention that I ran out of my meds and they won't refill until Sunday, I'm going to try not to be hard on myself for my poor performance gym-wise.  I will do laundry tonight and go somewhere to run tomorrow, and that's good.  I'll have to be happy with that. I'm only human.