Face it…

This weekend was a laid back one. I went into it - for once - having no real plans and it ended up being pretty productive.

Saturday I got a run in with Archer in the morning and then - due to unusually warm October temps, Marc and I and Archer went for a long relaxed hike. The sun was bright and we spent a lot of time wandering trails and admiring the magnificent changing of the leaves. I had thought that because of the extremely dry summer that the leaves would be uninspired, but happily, I have been wrong.  The array of colors is simply gorgeous.

As I have talked about in the past, I start getting super depressed this time of year and some warmer than normal temps and a lot of fresh air and sunlight definitely has helped stave that off some – so far anyway.

Sunday morning we went again for a short hike at the local park before the rain moved in. By afternoon it was windy and raining so I rode the bike trainer while watching football. The good news? The Dolphins WON!! The bad news? Because they have been playing like CRAP this year but they kicked ass and took names yesterday, the superstitious side of me now believes that I will have to ride the trainer while they play EVERY WEEK so that they will continue to win!!!

My brain still says “It’s the WEEKEND! You can eat all you want, it’s ok!!” So I can’t say that this weekend was much different, but I did try a new recipe. It was kale combined with apples, cranberries and walnuts. It was absolutely delicious and almost guilt free. And in a small miracle, Marc actually liked it. I’ll post the recipe in the future if anyone is interested!

I even got some mundane chores done, and finally got to something that I have been TOTALLY putting off. Guess what that was?

Well, about 2 weeks before we left for vacation, it came in my e-mail. It was a happily worded invitation to take the annual survey for the National Weight Control Registry. I felt a pit in my stomach when I saw it and put it out of my mind.

Then came the follow up invitation telling me that they were sorry they hadn’t heard from me and no matter what my status was, it would be valuable to have my input. I again put it off. A couple of days after we returned from vacation came another plea for me to take the survey.

Yesterday I reluctantly clicked the link. It immediately starts with a question of what your weight is. Then it asked what my weight was last year at this time. I remember last year entering the information with guilt and shame and being absolutely SURE that this year I would be able to enter a lower number. To have to admit that I had not only NOT LOST any weight, but had actually GAINED a sizable chunk - well it sucked ass.

The survey then took me through a slew of practical food questions, like how often do you eat chicken, and of those times, how many times do you eat the skin? Or how many times do you use low fat options in your cooking? Or how many times do you eat rolls without butter or salads without dressing? Then there was the exercise questions about what types of exercise you do and how often.

Then there was a whole page of questions about emotions and how you feel about your life and things like “Do you often eat when you are sad?” For the most part, the survey is the same as it has been every year since I joined. And I remembered that they asked those questions about your emotions, I had answered them before. But this year I really paid attention to them. For some reason it really hit me that these questions are not designed with ME in mind. They are designed with everyone that is in this group of losers - weight losers that is. So guess what - apparently it’s not just me whose emotions effect my weight!!

NO. SHIT. SHERLOCK.

I often tell my clients that if it was as simple as quitting drugs and alcohol, then I would be out of a job. Because if that’s all there was to it, everyone would be able to get clean and sober. But it is much more complex. As is the weight loss game.

For most of the questions asked about food and exercise - in black and white it looks like I do most everything right. I exercise a lot. A variety of exercises. I don’t keep high fat foods in the house. I don’t eat wasteful fat calories like mayonnaise, I eat tons of fruits and veggies, I almost never eat out at restaurants. And yet - here I am - having gained weight and not being able to take it off again.

So I hope that all of my answers help these experts crunch the numbers and be able to offer answers not just to me, but to the hundreds of men and women out there desperate to take off some poundage....

Hey – where is that miracle pill anyway? 

The power of words

If you have read this blog for any amount of time, and/or if you know me in real life, then you know that I am a flaming liberal.

I have mostly not used this blog to talk about the upcoming Presidential election because that is not really what this blog is about and there are plenty of places to get your political fix if that’s what you are looking for.

But I have been thinking so much about recent developments I am going to talk politics for a minute.  If you aren’t interested, stop reading.  If you think it might piss you off, you might want to stop reading.

You have been warned.

I used to work at the county jail.  One time, early on, it was near the end of a shift for the CO’s when we couldn’t interact with inmates and I was hanging out and talking with some CO’s.  They were joking around and then one of them proceeded to tell a joke and it started off “What did the nigger say…”  I immediately stood up and said “Ok, that’s my cue to leave,” and started back towards my office.  “Geez!” the CO yelled “It’s just a JOKE!”

But it’s NOT just a joke.  Words have meaning and power.  Some great speeches – mere words – have, in my opinion, changed the course of history.  (I have a DREAM, anyone?)

Which is what bothers me SO MUCH about the release of the Donald Trump recording where he talked so horribly about women.  And then he – and his supporters – want to defend that hate speech by saying “It’s just WORDS!”

No – it not “just words”.  It is someone degrading a whole group of people.  Making them less than.  Asserting a position of power over someone more vulnerable. 

That, my friends, is WRONG.  And to excuse this talk as a type of “boys will be boys” behavior – and let’s be real, we’re talking about an ADULT here, not some 15 year old – is shameful.

To hear a grown man laughing about using his position of power to grab someone’s “pussy” against her will literally makes me sick to my stomach. 

Then to follow that up by calling women “fat pigs”, to be accused of sexual assault and to give a statement saying that he wouldn’t have assaulted his accusers because they are so ugly???  It’s more than offensive. 

It’s as offensive as joking about beating up “fags”.  As telling “nigger” jokes.  It’s about hate speech that effects the culture in this country.

I have been the victim of a sexual assault, and, if statistics are true, so have many of you reading this now.  And it was not about me being beautiful and sexy.  It was about someone who had power over me and who clearly didn’t see me as a person but instead as an object hurting me.

To have someone who is trying to be President of this country attempting to justify and condone offensive and hateful words should terrify all of us. 

Because WORDS have MEANING.  Words can and do inspire ways of thinking which leads to action.  The thought of a 12 year old boy hearing the President of the United States laughing as he calls a woman a “fat pig” or brags about grabbing pussy?  What effect will that have on that boy??

I personally try to be mindful of not using degrading and hateful terms.  I’m not going to say that I always achieve that goal.  But I don’t try to justify it.  And I walk away from anyone else who is doing it.

In this case, I can’t walk away, but I can exercise my right to vote… 

You are not alone…

While on was on vacation, I went to the wedding of my cousin. When we got to the reception, there was no assigned seating like most of the weddings that I have gone to, so Marc and I picked out some seats for ourselves at a large table. Before too long, 3 couples - friends of my cousin who we had never met - asked if they could join us.   They were all about 10 years younger than Marc and I (the age of my cousin) and were clearly there to have a extremely good time - dang, did I feel OLD!!

One of the girls who joined us was adorable and blonde and very thin. Another was a tall, willowy redhead who I think works for a gym. She was fit although not overly athletic looking. The third girl was a little on the heavier side and also quite pretty. The dinner for the wedding involved going up to the self-serve buffet line. The thin blonde kept saying that she had been “saving my carbs all week for this!” I was sure that she would eat like one small potato and then claim she was stuffed.

But when we sat back down, she had a full plate of food, including a pile of mashed potatoes. She began eating the potatoes with gusto and again commented that she had “saved my carbs” - and I was shocked when she went up for seconds and came back with another huge portion of potatoes and actually ate the whole plate. She even giggled with embarrassment when her husband called her out on it. The girl that was a little heavier told her husband that she was not headed back for seconds and I thought she looked a little sad, but I may have just been projecting.

If I had been on the outside just watching this impossibly thin and pretty blonde chowing down on a huge plate of potatoes I would have assumed that she was naturally thin and had never had to watch her weight and I would have been incredibly jealous. It would have never occurred to me that she had thought about the wedding in advance and eaten less or differently leading up to it in anticipation of eating more than normal.

Apparently I think that the vast majority of people who I see as thin and pretty are naturally that way and don’t have to work n it. In my mind, I am the only person in the world that struggles with my eating and has to think about what and how much I am going to eat in advance.

Along  those same lines, yesterday, I had an incredibly stressful day at work. You guys all know what it is like coming back from vacation but add in some major changes in my job and I was just burned out yesterday. I got home and felt shaky, exhausted, cold, cranky AND I had a pounding headache. I had been planning on running but I stared at the couch - with the heated blanket it on it calling to me. I probably wasted 20 minutes arguing with myself about whether I needed to work out.

I finally got changed and dragged my ass downstairs to the treadmill. 1 mile in I started to feel a little better.  By mile 4 I was in the groove, and at mile 7 I was happy that I had run and felt refreshed.

I posted something on a running group about this and why I always forget how I feel afterwards and always seem to have to battle myself just to get going.

A few people chimed in that this is just the nature of the beast and one woman said that this is her experience every single time she runs.

Just like the food thing, I tend to think that “real” runners just waltz out the door absolutely THRILLED to be running and that they never have to battle themselves in order to get going.

What’s the point of all this?  If you are like me, and you get so angry with yourself and feel like you are alone in the battle with yourself, you (and I) need to remember that very few people have it easy.  The people we think have it all together, who are motivated and make it look like a cakewalk?  Chances are that they are battling internally as well.  So give yourself a break.  Do your best and forget the rest as Tony Horton says…

Say it ain't so..

A Grand Coincidence…

Is there such a thing as fate?  Or when weird things happen are they just a coincidence?  Many people say that things happen for a reason, but I often think that's just a way to make ourselves feel better when crappy things happen to us.  On the other hand, I have had events happen in my life that makes it hard to believe it was just a coincidence.

Either way, one of those weird things happened to us while on vacation.  We have really enjoyed our past trips to Pymatuning, PA, but decided that we would try a different area this year.  We looked up which of the parks allow dogs in their cabins and settled on Hills Creek State Park.  After making reservations, we began looking for things to do in the area, and discovered we would be staying close to the Pennsylvania Grand Canyon.  It looked like a fantastic hiking and sightseeing opportunity, so we knew we would be hitting there at some point.

In the past, my admitted control issues had me planning our vacations like the psychotic headmaster of a twisted military academy.  What we would be doing on each day, at what time, when and what we would eat - meticulously planned.  And if something like rain disturbed those plans?  Prepare for a meltdown!  Sounds like a fun vacation, right?  That type of OCD/control issues probably helped me lose 200+ pounds.  But to maintain that type of life is exhausting and pretty much sucks the life out of, well, LIFE.

So, this vacation was a concentrated effort for me to take it one day at a time, little planning and more fun.

We got up Tuesday morning, checked the weather and decided the Canyon would be that day's destination.  We headed out after breakfast and getting there, we saw there was a short and not too challenging trail to an overlook.  We decided to check this out first before descending into the gorge.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We hiked the overlook trail and took some pictures before heading back to the SUV to load up our backpacks with food and drink.  We then began the trek into the gorge on the Turkey Path.  

We successfully reached the bottom and began walking on the Pine Creek Trail - a former train route which has been converted into a multiple mile hiking/biking/running/horseback trail.  We hiked a few miles and took in the scenery.  The leaves were changing and it was quite beautiful.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We turned around and headed back with the plan to stop for lunch at a picnic table we had passed a couple of miles ago.  But when we got there, a couple of bicyclists were using the table as a resting bed.  So we decided to keep walking.

We reached the bottom of the trail and took off our backpacks, unpacked our lunch and ate leisurely on a bench.  A guy came down the trail and approached us admiring Archer.  We started talking dogs as he and his son had 2 dogs with them.  Somehow us being from NY came up.

"What part of NY are you from?" He asked.  I started to laugh as when you say NY, as everyone from here knows, people think New York City or MAYBE Albany.

I tell him and he gives me a shocked look.  He tells me that he knows EXACTLY where I’m talking about because his mother is from here, and his aunt and uncle still live in the village over from us – and that he came up here in the summer for many years as a child and remembers fishing in the Black River that runs through this area.  His mother met his father when he was stationed at the local Army base and they moved when he was stationed elsewhere.

Ok, the chances of meeting someone who not only knows this area but has connections to it is pretty coincidental.  But when you think that we had to be in that exact place at that exact time for us to run into each other and for him to have to have come over to start talking to us?  Maybe that type of thing doesn’t seem unusual to you guys, but to me, it was pretty freaky!

He headed back up the trail and after we finished eating we began our own climb back to the top. 

Here we are 9 miles in and almost to the top.

It was a pretty awesome day – and the coincidence (fate?) of running into this stranger made it even more memorable!

Timing is everything...

If you are wondering where I've been, then you aren't on my associated Facebook page.  And why is that??!!  Kidding!!

At any rate, we were on vacation.  We again stayed in a cabin in the Pennsylvania mountains.  This year we chose a different campground - just to try something different.  We found ourselves with no access to the internet at the cabin and most of the campground which was both anxiety provoking and liberating.

I have been trying to change my thinking - because I feel I keep straying from my goals and driving myself crazy to boot.

For the entire week I was there I didn't run.  We had Archer with us and didn't bring our bikes.  I tried not to obsess about food and exercise  - to eat reasonably well, but not to freak out about calorie counts when I did stray from "good" food.

Archer is adjusting to life without his big brother.  But we saw some anxiety with him when he was out of his routine and that brought to mind how much he relied on Chakotay's strong and calm presence - because Chakotay rolled with things - not much fazed him.  But we did our best to provide "calm assertive energy" as my hero Cesar Millan instructs.

We hiked for miles.  We went sightseeing.  A horse on a trail bit me!  The last afternoon we were there I actually sat on the cabin's deck and relaxed.  I didn't obsessively plan our days and chose to believe that things would work themselves out and guess what?  They did.

3 more months left in 2016.  Definitely NOT the year I anticipated so far, but plenty of time to leave it in a better space.

Tomorrow I want to share some pictures and talk about timing and whether fate exists ....

Time in a bottle…

Time is a precious commodity. One that I feel I never have enough of. Between all that I have to/want to do, I sometimes feel like there is no possible way to fit everything in. So not surprisingly I hate wasting time.

I try not to dwell too much on my past but I have a lot of regrets about not putting in the effort to lose weight years ago.

I think of spending all of my 20's and most of my 30's being morbidly obese and all the time spent wasted because I was too heavy to accomplish certain things. I didn’t have the energy or the ability. Oh, the things I could have done if I weighed less!!

I have not been weighing myself. Between the stress of Chakotay being sick all summer and my general lack of self control and dwindling of motivation to consistently get in productive workouts, I have been convinced that I’ve gained a ton of weight. Trying on clothes has reinforced that fact.

This morning I was standing naked in front of the shower, waiting for the water to get warm enough for me to step in and I saw in the large mirror we have over our sink a side profile. While I certainly didn’t start dancing with delight, I thought that maybe I didn’t look all that much bigger than I did earlier this year.

So I impulsively went over and took the scale off of its perch and set it on the floor and glared at it. And then I stepped on.

Remember back in April when I visited the MD and was distraught over the number it showed? Well, the scale showed me that this morning I was exactly .5 pounds lighter than that day.

Ok, so I don’t like that number. I want to weigh many pounds less. BUT - when I think of all the time I wasted this summer and continue to waste stressing about food and exercise and how I look and how much of a hot mess I am - and basically I am the same as I was 6 months ago. Not the ideal, but worth the amount of mental head banging, hand wringing, and generalized anxiety/guilt that I have imposed on myself?? I gotta say no.

So here’s the bad news - for me and for you if you are trying to lose weight - a recent study shows that today - September 30^th - is the lightest we will weigh all year. Yes, beginning October 1^st, statistically we steadily start to pork up. That continues through the first part of January. And while most of us will lose that weight that we put on, it takes until JUNE to lose it and then it is a short summer before we repeat the cycle.

So, I have a lot of weight to lose while staring statistics in the face. And yet, if I can maintain this weight - well, it wouldn’t be the end of the world, right? None of us have to aim for our weights to fall at the bottom end of the BMI scale.

I have to weigh - no pun intended - the stress of being many pounds over what I believe I should ideally weigh with the stress of constantly thinking about and worrying about what I weigh and what I look like.

Do any of you have a goal weight that is over what the “ideal” range is??

Voices in my head…

It’s like a grand conspiracy. Every time I have sat down to make a blog post for the last several days something has happened and I haven’t made a post.

I am in a state of flux right now - minute by minute telling myself that I really am doing okay, and in the next telling myself that I am a complete disaster. As the cooler weather has descended on us that bring with it two issues that I have to address. One is pulling out a whole new set of clothes to find that they don’t fit and the subsequent barrage of self-hatred and an emotional meltdown. The second is a yearly thing that I have battled for YEARS and I know a lot of you out there do, too - as fall and winter approach there is the desire to come home, bury myself in thick blankets and not move. Except to eat - I can ALWAYS find motivation for that!!

So knowing that these issues are staring me right in the face, I’ve tried to take the focus off my weight specifically and the demands of what I “should” be doing workout wise and concentrate on what it means to be happy and healthy.

My friend and I were talking about the whole Extrovert - Introvert thing. I am quite clearly an Extrovert. What I have always thought that I am unique in is the fact that at times when I am not in a social setting that I retreat deeply into my own mind. Turns out that is quite common in a lot of Extroverts. It can be a very lonely place when you have a constant internal dialog which is often pretty mean to you. I told my friend that if I had someone in my life who talked to me the way I talk to myself I would totally get rid of them - but how do you get rid of yourself?

Well, one way is to get the hell out of my head. I have concentrated on not drifting - on being fully present in what I am doing. For example I took Archer for a run last night. And instead of putting on the headphones and just mindlessly running to get it over with - to “earn” what I was going to eat for dinner, I went without headphones. I focused hard on my breathing and the way my body felt. I watched Archer running alongside me. I tried to smell the fall air.

I think I have been this way for a very long time. Being hugely outgoing and then, when not around a lot of people, going way into myself. Half paying attention to everything else going on around me… I watch TV and 5 minutes later have no idea what the show was about.

What the heck does this have to do with weight loss? Well, when I was reading about extroverts that have this issue, some articles talked about people like Chris Farley and Robin Williams. Is there really that much difference between Chris Farley coming home after KILLING it on Saturday Night Live and while alone in his apartment snorting a boatload of cocaine and me coming home after talking all day with clients and standing in front of an open jar of peanut butter shoveling it into my mouth mindlessly? I don’t know that those things are totally different from one another!  It’s all part of an addiction process.

Maybe if I am not so absorbed into my self - analyzing, over analyzing, debating, questioning - I can get myself back together. I’ve tried so many things lately but sooner or later something has to click, right???

A goal met...

Late last year, I heard some people talking about "the metric century".  Apparently that's a pretty common challenging distance for cyclists to travel.  There are even some races of that distance.  Of course we are talking 100 km (62 miles).

The longest distance I had ever biked was around 54 miles.  I decided that this year I would try to do a metric century.  That was a summer's goal.

Then?  Shit happens, and goals don't always get met.  Chakotay got sick, plans got interrupted, it rained or it was unbearably windy... The goal was never hit.

Now backing up for a minute, this week was complete chaos.  We had another graduation for my clients and I was crazy busy.  I felt out of control at times, and my stress and anxiety skyrocketed.  And when it was over, I crashed.  I don't know that I had been holding it together that well, but I don't know that I have totally dealt with Chakotay's death - that he is gone.  Although these things come in waves, too as many of you know.  I was DONE.

I felt defeated and unbearably sad.  About everything.  And so I looked at me.  My life, my past, my goals.  I can't control everything at once.  But there was a goal sitting out there.  One simple goal.

So at 9:40 this morning I got on my bike.  I started to ride.  My goal was 62 miles in under 4 hours.  I rode around 2 local points that jut into Lake Ontario.  The lake was calm and beautiful.  I tried to be fully present in the moments rather than all up in my head.  I waved at runners and fellow bikers.  

3 hours and 54 minutes later I pulled into our driveway at 62.04 miles.

It wasn't all that spectacular of a time, and it's not like 62 miles is some amazing feat, but it was a goal met.  And the ride gave me a lot of time to think.  When I got back I showered and then went outside with a hot mug of coffee, a banana, and sat in the warm fall sun throwing a ball for Archer, and in that space of time it felt somehow like I had had a breakthrough.

More to come on that note...

Agony of da feets!

Remember way back in April when I went to Urgent Care and the PA yelled at me for running “at my age”? At that time I had self-diagnosed myself with a “stone bruise”. After x-rays were done and that PA told me that she found no structural issues, and a stone bruise “might be” it, but that she could refer me to a physical therapist, I assumed that my degree I got on Web MD was accurate and have not been to a doc since then. 

I also never followed through with the physical therapist, and I have been battling pain since that time. The pain is mild compared to what I went thought when my IT Band was fucked up and is nothing compared to the constant overwhelming battle I had with my Achilles.

I bought wide width running sneakers and putting in most of my miles on the lesser impact treadmill has helped. And every night, while stretching, I vigorously deep massage into the ball of my foot - with my thumbs and with a lacrosse ball. I also have been using the TENS unit - which I still use several nights a week on my Achilles - on the ball of my foot.

But still there has been pain. Right in the ball of my foot. While I’m running some, but afterwards quite a bit. Wearing high heels makes it worse.  The toe right next to the big toe has been bent awkwardly down and both bending it and trying to straighten it has caused pain both in that toe and the ball of the foot.

A smart person would follow up with a doctor or physical therapist. Or they would stop running. That’s what a smart person would do - which I am not.

At the 10K race I did a couple of weeks ago, I was talking with a fellow runner who has had her share of running injuries. We were talking about how running is so good for you but certainly takes its toll on the body. She told me that she had been running with 2 dislocated toes. She didn’t know that they were dislocated but finally went to the MD who had to pull them back into place. She said that they had become dislocated because she curls her toes when she runs. She asked if I did that. I thought about it and realized that yes, on my one foot, the injured foot, I do curl my toes when I run.

I was thinking about this a couple days later as I sat on the floor stretching. Instead of massaging the ball of the foot like I normally do, I instead grabbed that bent second toe and pulled a little on it. There was no pain, but it almost felt like bubbling where the toe goes into the foot. So I pulled harder and then I felt and heard a “POP”. It didn’t hurt - it was almost exactly like when you crack your knuckles. There was also no sense of instant relief, but I thought my toe seemed straighter.

The next day, I looked down and saw a large bruise where the toe goes into the socket and I suddenly realized that my toe was almost straight! I could bend and flex it without pain and, even more surprising - there was almost NO PAIN in the ball of my foot!

So here for MONTHS I have been thinking it was an issue with the nerves in the ball of my foot and it actually had to have been related to a partial (I’m guessing) dislocation of the toe! So all the freaking massaging and TENS application was basically useless, when all I needed to do was pop that toe back into place. Can you believe it?

So since then, instead of massaging, I regularly pull on that toe making sure that it is settled into place. I don’t know that much about dislocations, but I do know from people that I have talked to who have dislocated their shoulders in the past that once something dislocates, it tends to do it easily in the future. So after a run I fiddle around with that toe.  I have not felt a POP again like when I did it the first time, but I do sometimes feel that bubbling sensation and I think it is resetting it some.

While the pain isn’t 100% gone, it’s way way better.  And if you’re thinking that I should still go and see a doctor, that’s probably what a smart person would do…

Forward movement…

Much like a physical injury, an emotional injury heals in stages.  Right now, instead of that sharp agonizing pain, there is just a dull aching.  I am having periods of time when I feel almost normal.  Then, times like last night, I'm talking with Marc as we are getting ready for bed, and I realize I'm standing there with treats for 2 dogs, and there is the panicky painful reminder.

This morning, Marc suggested that we go for a hike knowing that I had a date with a football game this afternoon.  As we walked and Archer ran joyfully around there was just this intangible sense of we are incomplete.

Speaking of whether we are complete, I find it interesting how people will always choose to impose their views on others.  I have received at least one completely unsolicited opinion that we should not even consider getting another dog for a very long time if ever.  And, on the other side of the coin, I have also had some completely unsolicited opinions that we need to get a puppy right away.

Both suggestions are heartbreaking for different reasons.

But the climb back to sanity has started.  And there was some positive movement yesterday.  I took Archer over to a trail yesterday to run.  Somewhere along the run not only was I not hating running, I was actually enjoying it.  It has been a while since that has been true.  So when we got back to the car at around 6.5 miles, we got some water and then ran another 1.5.

Looking at our stats, we ran 8 miles at an average 9:08 mm pace.  So I decided our goal would be to do 10 miles at an under 9 pace by Thanksgiving.  Compared to what I ran just a couple years ago, this goal is pretty freaking pathetic.  But compared to the war I've had with running lately, to have enjoyed it enough to have set a goal??  Yes, making a goal, instead of just running because I have to feels like a movement forward.

Towards DOING instead of EXISTING.

And as I thought about that goal, I acknowledged that this is going to mean putting an actual effort into getting back on track with my eating.  So I asked myself what I wanted more – to eat what I want or to lose weight and meet my goals.

I wish I could tell you that there was a resounding shout from my psyche assuring me that I am ready.  But in reality, there was a instead mostly silence. 

But a step forward – even a small step – is something I will take this weekend.

Mind and body connection…

The connection between mind and body in an incredible one. How you feel physically can definitely effect your emotions. Not getting enough sleep, being sick, all of those things can totally screw with your emotions. And, of course, in reverse, what your emotional state is can greatly impact you physically.

I have been getting a lesson on this in spades this week. I woke up Sunday morning and felt like I had been worked over with a baseball bat. Every single muscle in my body hurt. I attributed this to having run hard during the 10K race Saturday morning and the intense digging in hard clay soil making a final resting place for my baby boy.

I didn’t really think of what my physical state was being related to my emotions at all. I was sure that it would go away. And yet so far this week I have just been a wreck. Surprisingly, I have been sleeping pretty well. But I have been SO exhausted and even doing the smallest thing has felt like such a huge effort. I also have been aimlessly worried and distracted. Things that I do EVERY DAY - like putting makeup on in the morning - I have completely forgotten to do. And I am still very, very sore.

Last night I got home from work and just wanted to lay down I was so done for. I probably would have if it weren’t for Archer. He is doing okay, I think, for having lost his brother that he was SO SO close to. But he just has not been himself. I don’t think that describing him as being depressed is going too far. I have been reading a lot on dogs grieving the death of their pack mates and the articles encourage you to allow them to stick to their routine, to offer them a lot of love, and to make sure they get plenty of exercise. Not surprisingly, all the benefits that people get from exercise, such as lowering stress, boosting endorphins and helping settle your mind - well, those benefits extend to dogs as well.

So when I got home and he was there alone (Marc was on a bike ride), I decided we could go for a run. It took so much mental effort just to change into workout clothes and a short 1/4 mile into our run my body was just screaming STOP. I managed 5 miles, but those 5 miles felt harder than most runs twice that long.

This morning, I still felt achy. And my mind? It just won’t stop. Jumping from topic to topic - stupid things - unfocused and random worries. And there are still brief moments of crying jags.

In the summer, I turn into CARDIO GIRL. I believe in the benefits of other exercise, such as lifting weights, but when the sun is out in northern NY and you know it is going to be gone WAYYYYY too soon, you go out for a walk at lunch, you don’t hang out inside doing P90X.

So I also have not been doing yoga. As lunch time approached and it was cool and cloudy, I thought about lifting weights but as I stared at the dumbbells, I thought that I wouldn’t even be able to lift 5 pounds. So I called up a Yin Yoga class. I thought that maybe I could settle my mind and help my body.

Yin Yoga is always challenging - staying for several minutes in uncomfortable positions, relaxing my body, quieting my mind - well that is a task for me even during the best of times. But as I sat there in pigeon pose - as the instructor in a soothing voice talked about focusing on your breath and letting intrusive thoughts drift away, I seriously thought that I was losing it. My mind swam with a million different thoughts and I actually felt a little dizzy.

I started counting the breath in - concentrating on filling up my lungs and diaphragm. And then letting it out slowly. They say to envision breathing in the good air and directing it to what hurts and envisioning letting out the “bad” air. I tried this, but as the hour was over and I hurried over to a different court for some business I was quite convinced that it had been a futile pursuit.

But after the meeting ended and I walked back, I noticed that I felt a little better. My muscles felt looser and there was less achy-ness. I think that my mind is a little less restless, a little more focused.

Just as after a physical injury your body needs time to heal, I suppose that after an emotional tragedy the mind needs some time, too. And since they are all related I guess I just need to be patient and supportive to myself.

Yes, because I am SO GOOD at that....

Like walking underwater…

I thought that going to work today would help. Being busy - being distracted. But it didn’t. There were brief and blissful periods where I was engrossed in paperwork or talking to a client and I almost forgot, but grief is a powerful and ever-present giant.

And boy, I am SUCH a good addict. I have not had any motivation to exercise and even a bit of self-control in the eating department is GONE. Not that there has been much to start with, right?

The justification and rationalization machine is in FULL gear - I mean who would BLAME me, right? I am entitled to take a few days off. I shouldn’t worry about my weight during this hard time!  Any excuse will do.

Of course, not exercising and eating like shit just makes me feel worse in the long run. But in the short term, that instant gratification – the diversion from my mind - is pretty alluring.

It will get easier, as many of you know. Every time I have lost a pet, I think I will never be happy again – that the black hole of pain will never be filled. But the pain starts to fade, I remember the good times more and more, and life goes on. That is both a blessing and a curse.

For now, I read and re-read the offerings of understanding and support. It helps SO MUCH. So for those of you that have taken the time to reach out, it is appreciated more than you can know. Honestly and truly, I thank you.

Painful history and now…

On this day in history the world changed forever.  I remember that day like it was yesterday.  Today we woke up to a changed personal world.  Compared to the devastation of that horrible day in 2001, what we are going through is minor, but it is no less real to us.

Yesterday, we had a 10K race.  When we got up, Chakotay went outside to do his business.  He ate the peanut butter covered treats with the pills hidden in them, and drank water.  As we were leaving he laid down by my computer.

Which is where we found him when we got back from the race.  in the exact position we left him.  Based on this we think he went quickly and painlessly.  There was no sign that he was in distress and based on the way he acted, we don't even think Archer knew his brother was gone.  That is such a blessing.    

But… I wasn't there for him.  I don't know how I will ever forgive myself for that.  He was alone, and the thought of that – and a million other things I could have done differently that morning – breaks my heart. 

We buried him in the backyard, where other pets we've loved and lost lie.  I said goodbye to him with Archer who appeared very confused and even frightened.

The first thing Archer did this morning when he woke up was search for him.  I can't believe how empty the house feels.  And I know Archer feels it as well.

Today, we planted a painted willow shrub in his memory.

We also made a mold of his footprint before we said our final goodbyes.

I am okay as long as I keep doing something.  I’m quite sure the house is cleaner than it’s been in years tonight.

But tomorrow I return to work and have to get used to a new normal. 

I had fooled myself into believing I was prepared for this.

What a fool I was…

Run free sweet Chakotay…

Chakotay came into our lives in 2009 after the death of our first Boxer, named Tucker. Although they were both Boxers, their personalities were nothing alike.

 

 

 

 

 

Chakotay was sweet and incredibly mellow. He had a laid back personality. He was never interested in chasing the cats he lived with, even as a young puppy. He would lie there patiently as they groomed him or played with his ears.

 

 

 

 

When in 2010 we lost our German Shepherd, Chakotay was thrust into the role of big brother when we brought home Archer. Archer was high energy, spoiled and demanding. He would terrorize Chakotay at times. Both the vet as well as Archer’s breeder were shocked at how patient Chakotay, being only just over a year himself, tolerated Archer.

 

 

 

 

But Marc and I weren’t. He loved Archer completely.  In fact, Chakotay loved just about everyone he came in contact with. He loved the cats and the chickens. Each time we had new chicks in the house, he would have to inspect them and then would  happily accept them as part of the family.

 

 

 

 

He loved the oldest person he would know, Marc’s dad. And he loved little kids. And, of course, he loved Marc and I.

 

 

 

 

He was so laid back that sometimes I would think that he didn’t have it in him to ever stand his ground if the time came. However, in 2012, as Marc and I went for a slow walk when I was recovering from major surgery, a dog came from a neighboring house running full speed at me and barking crazily. With speed so fast we barely had time to register what was happening, Chakotay went after that dog, ripping the leash from Marc’s hand. He caught her by the neck and drove her away and into the ditch. He held her for a moment - firmly, but without actually biting, and then let her up where she quickly retreated. He then stood in front of me, watching, making sure that she was continuing her exit, before turning around, wagging his nub and calmly waited to resume the walk. If I ever had a question that he would do anything and everything in his power to defend us, it ended in that few seconds of time. He was ready, willing and able to put our safety above his own.

7 years. That’s all the time he had.

But in those 7 years he did a hell of a lot. He swam and played in 2 of the Great Lakes.

 

 

 

 

He hiked mountains, including 2 high peaks of the Adirondack Mountains.

 

 

 

 

He ran in a 5K race. He camped in a tent and ate marshmallows next to a roaring fire. He frolicked in snow and dug into sand on a hot beach. He got to experience things that even some people don’t in their lives.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And when he got sick, bravely and without complaint, he became part of a medical trial that might someday lead to better treatments or even a cure to some cancers, not just for animals but for people. He never protested as blood was drawn and calmly allowed himself to be x-rayed.  He was patient during the long car trips to Cornell.  And through all of it, he remained a sweet soul who was always ready with a wet kiss – for us, for the vets and for anyone else whom he could reach.

And he was loved. Oh so loved.  He was a vital part of our family.

There are no words to express how much he will be missed. The pain is overwhelming right now.  But I feel lucky to have had this wonderful boy as part of my life for a number of years.

I don’t believe in heaven or hell, but I would like to believe that somehow, somewhere, our energies will meet again.

STOP the clicking!

I don’t consider myself a Facebook addict, but I do get on it a few times a day and do post on occasion.

Recently, they have implemented more “sponsored ads” – where people pay to have their ads show up in people’s timelines.

And Facebook – with their superpowers – are able to specifically target what ads to put in your specific timelines.

It is what I am sure a HIGE mathematical formula based on what you click on and things you post.

So guess what is showing up in my timeline on a daily basis?

FOOD.

Lots and lots and lots of food recipes.

And not healthy foods.  Oh NO!

Dessert recipes.

Sex in a pan, Carmel chocolate chip cookie bars, Peanut butter chocolate dream cookies.  Dozens of ads per day!

And WHYYYY are they showing up?  Because I keep fucking clicking on these recipes!  And then I read the ingredients with their POUNDS of butter, SCOOPS of sugar, and all other things that cause my to gain about 6 pounds just READING the recipes!  So do I make them?  Not a chance in hell.

But it’s like my version of pornography.

And yet?

I KEEP CLICKING!  Torturing myself.  With things I want to eat but can’t!

The only way to make the madness stop is to stop reinforcing why they are showing up in my timeline!

But look?  These Oreo Cookie Bars look SO GOOD!  Maybe I’ll just click and see if they are made with ZERO calorie ingredients.  That’s possible, right?

Was true then…

And is totally true now!!

 

The lose-lose scenario.

I sit here tonight feeling like the worst mom ever.  All things considered, Chakotay is really doing well.  He is in good spirits.  

And he thinks he feels good enough to do everything he used to do.  But he just can't.  He gets very tired very easily, and just has to lay down and so his days of hiking miles are over. 

Today was extremely hot and we talked about heading out to the lake.  But it's about a 1.5 mile hike from the parking lot to the water and we knew there is no way he could make it.

Marc suggested we head out to the water and leave both dogs at home.  But I hate to deprive Archer of something he loves because Chakotay is sick.  

LOSE-LOSE.

I put on Archer's collar and Chakotay hopped around all excited.  When I had to shut the door in his face??  It fucking broke my heart!

We started to throw things in the car and I lost it.  I told Marc he would have to drive because I started sobbing.  I cried all the way to the park.

A few hours later we got home and, of course, Chakotay didn't hold it against us.  He was happy to see us and had most likely slept the whole time we were gone.

Which didn't make it any easier at all.

The guilt and emotional pain is terrible.  I know many of you have been there with someone you love.  

What little self control I still had is pretty well gone.  GONE.  

I look to you guys now - for inspiration.  Send me your stories, they help keep me going!!

Do-over!

“Regrets and mistakes they’re memories made”

                - Adele

I know that we all have times when we wish we had a “do-over”.  If we could go back and make different choices we would.

How many times have each of us laid in bed at night wishing that we hadn’t eaten that second piece of cake or we had the salad instead of the burger.  Or that we had done 30 minutes of exercise instead of screwing around on the computer.

All things considered, something like that is relatively minor.

But how about the major things?  How about life choices that have radically altered our lives?

Do you see them as lessons learned as Adele says in her song?  Or, if you could go back and make a different life choice, would you?

Do you, like me, beat yourself up for dumb-ass choices you made?  Wish that you had a chance to go back and do everything differently?

It’s decidedly a moot point, because none of us can go back and have that do-over, right?

So how do you get to the point where you can see it as a life lesson and move on rather than dwelling on what you “Should have” done?

Even better – how do you take those life lessons to make better choices today rather than repeating your stupidity?

Facing fears...

There is only so much energy in our bodies.  We have to decide how we use that energy.  Much like the hours in each day.  

I think about the energy I have wasted on fear and anxiety.  Fear of SOOOO many things.  Of what mistakes I've made in my past.  Of what might happen.  Of whether the choices I've made are right or wrong.  Anxiety over my weight.  Of each food choice I make.

There's a fine line between being smart and being hyper-vigilant to the point of absurdity.  Add in some life stress and my energy gets completely scattered!

I was trying to explain to my friend why I haven't been running outside.  How do you rationally explain something completely irrational?  She couldn't get where my fear was coming from.  I can't understand it myself so how could she?

I told myself today that it was time.  No excuses.  Just get out and run.

As the day went on the anxiety was almost palpable.  W.T.F.?  

Then I was home, dinner was simmering on the stove.  Archer stared intently at me.  

I started running. Something I've done HUNDREDS of times.  

And guess what?  We ran a simple, slow 10k.  It wasn't AWESOME.  It wasn't HORRIBLE.  It was just a run.

All that wasted energy worrying, fretting for NOTHING.  

The mental game, at least for me, is so much more challenging than anything physical I have evet attempted.  

There are many ways I can view the run I took this evening.  I think I'll choose to view it as a victory.  A mental victory.  And a challenge to myself in the future that I need to stop letting fear and anxiety steal so much of my precious energy.

Just say NO…

Tomorrow is September 1^st. Although summer doesn’t technically end for about 3 weeks, I think that September 1 always seems like the symbolic end of summer.

I am frustrated. I really and truly believed that it was the winter that killed me as far as my weight goes. Summer was going to be my saving grace. And? Not so much. I am just as porked up as I was mid winter.

To make matters worse, I told you guys about the nutso thing in my head regarding my running? Well Monday night I was exactly 3.15 miles into my treadmill run when the sucker just turned off. Gave up. Said NO MORE.

Marc tried troubleshooting it with no luck. It’s probably just a faulty electronic part or a transformer. It has around 4200 miles on it and is 6 years old. When I bought it, I never imagined the amount of use it would get. It was not a cheapo model, but it also wasn’t really designed for 2 full sized humans and 2 dogs to use all the time. So we could have had someone come out and look at it, but decided it probably wasn’t worth it.

So the INTELLIGENT thing to do would be for me to get my ass OUTSIDE and run. But nooooo.... instead I spent time Monday night exhaustively researching the best bang for the buck in the world of treadmills and found myself not exercising but instead at Dick’s during my lunch hour yesterday trying out some treadmills. And then, after work, going to buy one.

Which is why we ended up eating dinner at 7:30 PM and was also why I found myself - exhausted and pissy - lifting weights while watching America’s Got Talent at 9:00 PM.

So I’m not making much progress, am I? White knuckling it is what they say in Alcoholics Anonymous.

The good in my life? Chakotay is still hanging in there. The prednisone is keeping the cancer mostly at bay. We are on borrowed and precious time and I feel that we have been luckier than most - statistically speaking. That is truly a blessing.

And today? Well, in the world of this fat chick, a small miracle. It was a co-worker’s birthday and I stuck my head in her office to wish her happy birthday and there was - lo and behold - CAKE. Store bought cake, but CAAAAKKKKEEE. She asked me if I wanted a piece and I hesitated only about 4 seconds before saying no. And I found that I actually didn’t want a piece. Ok, well I’m a fat girl and I wanted a piece, but I didn’t really WANT a piece.

Does that make any sense? I didn’t feel deprived or sorry for myself or resentful, I just didn’t want a piece. For most normal humans declining a piece of cake and actually not wanting one is NOT a big fucking deal at all. But for ME??? Well, no pigs flew by my windows this afternoon but it was CLOSE.

So there you go. I’m hanging in there. It might be by my fingertips but I am. I won’t fool myself into thinking “OH! IT’S FALL that will save me.” It doesn’t matter the day of the week, the time of year, what stress I have, whether there is a treadmill in my basement, whether the Dolphins win or lose, or anything else other than me making a CHOICE to stop eating so much. Period. Funny how that works, right?

I scream you scream…

Earlier this year I won tickets on the local radio station for a boat cruise around the 1000 Islands.  Since I grew up in this area, I’ve been on this tour many times and Marc I considered just not using the tickets or giving them away.  But then we thought that we could use them to spend the day with our nephews and enjoy a couple of hours out on the beautiful St. Lawrence River.

Friday I took the day off so we could do that.  The day was beautiful – hot and sunny.  We picked the boys up and I decided instead of going to a restaurant, we would stop at a grocery store and everyone could pick out their lunch and then we would eat on a picnic table in a park on a small island near where the tour started.

Go me, right?  I could choose something healthy.  Which I did.

The day was perfect – we had our picnic and after the boat tour we headed back to our house and I told the nephews that we would pick up Chakotay and Archer and we would all go out for ice cream.

Chakotay has gained so much weight and really doesn’t need more food, but I can’t resist spoiling him for the time he has left.

So we went to the ice cream shop who gave the dogs a bowl of ice cream and stuck a crunchy treat in the middle.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I got the nephews settled with their ice cream and went back for mine and Marc’s.  Guess who else has gained a bunch of weight and definitely didn’t need any ice cream – ME!

Ice cream is one of THOSE foods for me.  As I’ve mentioned here before, soda – specifically Mountain Dew – was something I never thought I’d be able to give up.  But once I stopped drinking it, it really hasn’t been that hard to stay away from.  I know other people who have such a hard time staying away from candy bars.  But those weren’t even a “thing” for me when I was fat.  Since losing the weight I think I’ve eaten a full sized candy bar twice and had a mini one maybe 3-4 times?

But ice cream?  Oh boy – for sure that is a weakness of mine.  I have had ice cream a couple of times this summer.  The problem is that if it is in the house – I freaking obsess about it being there.  And I can’t just have a little – I must eat a GIANORMOUS bowl full!

And there’s just something about soft serve ice cream.  I have had it only once this summer. 

There’s nothing wrong with having a treat once and a while.  And it would have been fine for me to get a small cone and eat it.

But NOOOOOO.  I had to get a cone so large I practically had to SCALE it to get to the top.

And you know that I absolutely ate every last bit.

The nephews then played for a while with the dogs – Chakotay gets tired easily but is still a sweet boy and tolerated the repeated hugs from our one nephew who is incredibly sensitive.  He knows about Chakotay’s cancer and each time he sees him knows that it might be for the last time.

We got them hope late.  It was a very fun day.

But you know me – the guilt from having eaten that ice cream…

So as I sit here late tonight, I went on a 40 mile bike ride this morning.  And then went for a short walk.  THEN I ran 4 miles on the treadmill.  Trying to undo the damage.  Which is utterly and completely useless and ridiculous.  I know this, and did it anyway.

What would have made more sense would have been to eat the small cone and do a little bit of extra movement today.  Which is what I’ll tell myself next time.  I’ll tell myself this, but I’m probably do exactly what I did yesterday!!

 

Evolving concept of beauty…

Last night I was watching American Ninja Warrior which I am just slightly obsessed with. I’ve talked about the show in this blog before and it keeps getting more popular. Last night 4 women were featured who all had made it to what is basically the semi-finals.

Just a couple years ago ANY woman making it that far was basically unheard of. But now women are getting into lots of activities that were previously almost exclusive to men and require a lot of strength and stamina.

I was tweeting during the show and as one woman made her run I tweeted that “Strong is the new sexy!’ One of my twitter followers who, incidentally, has been incredibly supportive to me and my struggles on this blog wrote “New?”

Of course there have always been strong women and many people who find that attractive. But I don’t think that this has been the norm.

I WISH that I was immune to society’s opinions about what women “should” look like. I have no problem whatsoever at not behaving like a traditional lady, but I freely acknowledge that one of the reasons I am so self-critical is because I don’t - and never have - looked like what an attractive woman “should” look like.

In the 80's, the fashion was the soft looking big boobed women like Pamela Anderson and Cindy Crawford. No doubt they were beautiful, but they were not muscular or overly fit.  And I was never going to look like them. Then the 90's came and for a while the “heroin sheik” was in. Extremely skinny, pale, with almost no muscle tone. Well shit, I looked even LESS like that.

In the last few years, I think that FIT has started to take it’s place. Suddenly women having muscles is a good thing in the mainstream. Being strong and fit has replaced striving for thin.

Besides just being in shape, the very definition of “fit” has been challenged. I mean Serena Williams is a phenomenal athlete, but with her big boobs and butt, she isn’t what we have traditionally thought of as a superior athlete. And take Michelle Carter who just won an Olympic Gold medal for Shot Put.

She also doesn’t look like your stereotype of an Olympian. I’m guessing neither of them go into Old Navy and buy a size 2. Guess what?  They are both muscular, beautiful and, at least from what I have read, confident.

Just last week I was ready about how women getting huge boob implants is “out”. Women are still getting boob jobs, but unlike 20 years ago when everyone wanted to be a DD, women are instead opting for the more subdued full B or small C. According to a plastic surgeon who was interviewed, for many women this is at least in part because they still want to work out hard and huge boobies get in the way.

In my opinion this is great news for women. Because being fit is being healthy. And if we change our definition of what attractive looks like and open it up to women of all shapes and sizes - well, maybe young girls out there won’t grow up to be head cases like me.

I continue to admire women who lead the way on body confidence and defining beauty outside the lines - women like Jennifer Lawrence, Meghan Trainor and Kate Winslet.

Who are some of your body confidence heroes?

A tepid try…

It’s hard to believe that I ran my very first mile outside in 2011. In terms of my entire life, that is a very short time ago. But for a period of time running became such an integral part of who I am, it felt like I had always been a runner. For many months, I relished running. The feeling of accomplishment after a good run - of challenging myself.

Then I fell out of love with running. I had some injuries and running became almost an enemy. I lost the motivation to run at all, but I felt like I had to, no matter what. And so I did.

In the last year or so I’ve gone back and forth. I don’t know that I’ve ever LOVED running - not like some people do. I have a Facebook friend who is a streak runner - she’s got like 1300 + days now! She just completed her first ultra - a 50 mile race. And she posts things about running and it is clear how much she just LOVES it. I envy her. I have had periods where I really enjoy getting out there and times when it feels like work.

The last couple months my running has taken a very weird turn. I don’t know how to explain this, but I am almost... afraid... to run outside. I’m not scared of getting hurt or attacked. Even though I have had injuries and my foot is still not healed I’m not really worried about hurting myself, either. It’s just this weird anxiety provoking fear when I think of running outside - like I won’t be able to do it or something. It’s not fear of being out in the world - not like I’m becoming agoraphobic - because I have no issue with biking long miles away from home.

So running and I have developed this tentative truce of sorts. I run on the treadmill at a slow pace. I burn calories and I’m technically “running”, but I don’t think that it’s the same as being outside and being a “runner”. My distances have been short - typically 6-7 miles. Long gone are the days of the “long run”.

This turn has filled me with incredible guilt and anxiety. Why? It’s not like I am required to run outside OR inside. It’s not my job. But I still feel that way - that somehow I am failing. That I am letting other people and myself down.

This weekend the forecast was for a beautiful Saturday followed by downpours and thunderstorms all day Sunday. So before we took the dogs to the beach on Saturday, I went out for a 40 mile bike ride knowing that this would be the only chance I would get to ride for the weekend. I would run, I promised me, on Sunday.

Sunday dawned and, as predicted, it was pouring. So I knew I needed to head to the basement to run. I tried to make excuses not to - to swear to myself I would run later in the day, knowing damn well that I wouldn’t. I managed to force myself into the basement wondering why I am in this rut and if there is any way out.

I told myself I could stop at 4 in order to get myself going. I was watching a movie and 4 became 6, 6 became 8 and then finally, 10. I won’t pretend that 10 miles is a big deal. Running 10 on a treadmill at a slow pace isn’t nearly the same as the days I would run 13-16 outside on a Sunday. But it is a longer jaunt than I have been running. I was happy that I got in the miles, but it didn’t renew any love of running and didn’t make me want to run outside.

Between the stress of Chakotay’s illness, my pathetic weight gain and my falling out of “like” with running, I’m feeling pretty lost right now.

Oh, course, ultimately, this is just more of my drama-queeness. Either do it or don’t, right? It’s just running for fuck’s sake. The weight of the free world is NOT on my shoulders.  The worls, as a matter of fact, doesn’t give a shit about my running – or my weight for that matter!