I was asked that question today by a woman whom was standing near me after the race. Actually, I asked her to take my picture and then we got to chatting. She was an older woman and, according to her, "I used to live in Germany and we'd walk these 10Ks every day ..... but then I stopped doing it, ya know how that goes." Yes, I do know how that goes. What tipped you off? .... the fact that I didn't finish the race at the front of the pack or the additional floatation devices located around my midsection, upper arms, inner thighs (must I go on?)? But any way you look at it, yes, I do know how that goes. I'm about to walk back up the steps of the stadium, get out of the muggy sun because I was sweating enough already, and she says to me "So, who did you run for?" Without thinking I replied, "myself." I thought nothing of my response, it was the truth wasn't it? But she looked at me kind of inquiringly and said "yourself? OK" and we parted ways. I got to the top of the stadium steps and decided to have a seat before I left, and as I was taking in the surroundings and what I had accomplished that morning, I kept thinking "was it wrong of me to say I ran for me?" Immediately it made me think of life - how we're often told to put others before ourselves, etc. Does that have some validity to it? Of course it does. But, does that apply to what I accomplished this morning? Is this journey for someone other than myself?
Even though that nice woman's question still leaves me pondering this evening, I've come to the conclusion that yes, it is quite alright for me to have ran that race for ME. In fact, it's quite alright for this entire journey to be for ME, too. If I'm not doing it for myself, who am I doing it for and what good will it do? We are born in to this world alone and we will exit this world alone, so although I'm not encouraging anyone to suddenly turn selfish on the world and all your loved ones, I am encouraging you to accept and embrace that your health and your life IS for you. Look at it this way, if you spend your entire life trying to make others happy, and never given a second thought to making sure YOU are happy, what does that do for you? Sure, some people say that seeing and helping others have joy, in turn, makes them have joy. I get that. I'm very much a people-pleaser myself. But what I've grown to learn and accept on this journey is that it is OK, actually more than OK, to commit to a better you for you. It's OK to tell someone you can't do something to help them because you're going to the gym. It's OK to say "no thanks" so something yummy someone made if it makes you uneasy about staying on track with your food intake. It's OK because this journey (and I use that term lightly because we all have journeys, and even though my journey might not be your journey .... we're still marching on in attempt to find solid ground) is for you and I. So, if at another race I am asked "Who did you run for?" I can confidently say that my response would be the same ..... I ran for me.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Chicken Nuggets
Over the last couple of weeks, when I had a weakness for something, ANYTHING fast food oriented ... my mind instantly turned to chicken nuggets. And not all, but some days my car also turned for chicken nuggets. As in, turned in to McDonalds and went through the drive thru. Chicken nuggets come in all sorts of sizes including 10 and now a 50 piece I believe? (That must be for party platters.) 99.2948% of the time all I needed was a 4 piece (I do have some will power even though my car does not!), but it was at one point when I was driving home, the white golden arches bag nestled so preciously on the seat next to me just waiting to be opened, when I thought ... "Why chicken nuggets?"
One of my fondest childhood memories is spending time with my Grandma. My Mom and Dad divorced when I was young, and thankfully since my Grandma lived so close I was afforded the opportunity to spend time at my Grandparent's house while my Mom worked a full-time job. McDonalds was a hop, skip, and a jump from their house, so the station wagon made frequent trips to Micky Ds. When my Grandma pulled up to the drive thru speaker, out of formality and as to not risk the chance of me throwing her a curve ball, she'd ask me "Heath, what do you want?" But my reply was always "chicken nuggets!" Oh I loved them so. And don't forget the sweet and sour sauce, which if they did my Grandma would have no problems about calling them up afterwards and reaming them out and, in the process, getting free fries the next time we fancied our way over to the golden arches. But regardless of how the trip fared, I always had that memory of getting chicken nuggets with Grandma. My Grandma passed away in October of 2008. Still seems hard to believe that she's gone. Aside from my Mom, she was and always will be one of my biggest cheerleaders (I know, for a fact, that she still rings her cowbell for me from Heaven).
Emotional eating. Ever experience that? Who hasn't, right? That's been one of my biggest challenges throughout this journey - finding a way to combat emotional eating and the urge to turn to food when life gets complicated. And recently, I think my way of connecting to my Grandma has been through chicken nuggets. When I bite in to one, I honestly have had flashbacks to being a kid and being with her. And part of me wants to savor that flashback, but part of me knows that it's not the healthiest flashback to have. Part of me feels like if I abandon chicken nuggets altogether, I'm abandoning that memory I share with my Grandma. I guess I should be grateful my Ronald McDonald obsession wasn't Big Macs, huh? But with all this being said, I'm left to ponder, "What is worth holding on to, the memory or the calories?" We all will have had or will have moments when the idea of food being our comfort is more appealing than anything we can imagine. But what do you do with that moment? Do you walk in it and stay awhile, or do you walk away and accept that you can still have emotions, good or bad, and not have to edibily (is that a word?) comfort yourself? And what happens if you stay awhile and eat your emotions? How do you feel after? Speaking for myself, I feel horrible. Eating 4 chicken nuggets or a tub of ice cream or a bag of chips or a whole block of cheese won't change how you FEEL. It just diverts whatever emotions you're feeling to the idea of yummy somethings in your belly. In that moment while you make out with whatever might be your comfort food of choice, you're feeding yourself with extra calories and depleting your mind and body of strength. Which do you want to last the longest?
Will I never have a chicken nugget again? Of course I will. I'm not even going to try and claim innocence there. But can I try to recognize when I'm confusing a wise food choice with a bad one because of some memory or emotion that will still exist after the sweet and sour sauce has run dry? Yes, I can. We all can. If you're going to make a food choice that you know is high in calories or fat or carbs, make sure you're doing it for the right reasons (that are right reasons to you and only you) and that, afterwards, you're able to own what you did and not beat yourself up over it and allow that moment of "edible bliss" to detour you from the bigger picture. Some might ask "does that taste as good as skinny feels?" (Which is one saying I've never really cared for, for some reason.) But my response is that if you've never been skinny, then it sure as hell does taste better!
One of my fondest childhood memories is spending time with my Grandma. My Mom and Dad divorced when I was young, and thankfully since my Grandma lived so close I was afforded the opportunity to spend time at my Grandparent's house while my Mom worked a full-time job. McDonalds was a hop, skip, and a jump from their house, so the station wagon made frequent trips to Micky Ds. When my Grandma pulled up to the drive thru speaker, out of formality and as to not risk the chance of me throwing her a curve ball, she'd ask me "Heath, what do you want?" But my reply was always "chicken nuggets!" Oh I loved them so. And don't forget the sweet and sour sauce, which if they did my Grandma would have no problems about calling them up afterwards and reaming them out and, in the process, getting free fries the next time we fancied our way over to the golden arches. But regardless of how the trip fared, I always had that memory of getting chicken nuggets with Grandma. My Grandma passed away in October of 2008. Still seems hard to believe that she's gone. Aside from my Mom, she was and always will be one of my biggest cheerleaders (I know, for a fact, that she still rings her cowbell for me from Heaven).
Emotional eating. Ever experience that? Who hasn't, right? That's been one of my biggest challenges throughout this journey - finding a way to combat emotional eating and the urge to turn to food when life gets complicated. And recently, I think my way of connecting to my Grandma has been through chicken nuggets. When I bite in to one, I honestly have had flashbacks to being a kid and being with her. And part of me wants to savor that flashback, but part of me knows that it's not the healthiest flashback to have. Part of me feels like if I abandon chicken nuggets altogether, I'm abandoning that memory I share with my Grandma. I guess I should be grateful my Ronald McDonald obsession wasn't Big Macs, huh? But with all this being said, I'm left to ponder, "What is worth holding on to, the memory or the calories?" We all will have had or will have moments when the idea of food being our comfort is more appealing than anything we can imagine. But what do you do with that moment? Do you walk in it and stay awhile, or do you walk away and accept that you can still have emotions, good or bad, and not have to edibily (is that a word?) comfort yourself? And what happens if you stay awhile and eat your emotions? How do you feel after? Speaking for myself, I feel horrible. Eating 4 chicken nuggets or a tub of ice cream or a bag of chips or a whole block of cheese won't change how you FEEL. It just diverts whatever emotions you're feeling to the idea of yummy somethings in your belly. In that moment while you make out with whatever might be your comfort food of choice, you're feeding yourself with extra calories and depleting your mind and body of strength. Which do you want to last the longest?
Will I never have a chicken nugget again? Of course I will. I'm not even going to try and claim innocence there. But can I try to recognize when I'm confusing a wise food choice with a bad one because of some memory or emotion that will still exist after the sweet and sour sauce has run dry? Yes, I can. We all can. If you're going to make a food choice that you know is high in calories or fat or carbs, make sure you're doing it for the right reasons (that are right reasons to you and only you) and that, afterwards, you're able to own what you did and not beat yourself up over it and allow that moment of "edible bliss" to detour you from the bigger picture. Some might ask "does that taste as good as skinny feels?" (Which is one saying I've never really cared for, for some reason.) But my response is that if you've never been skinny, then it sure as hell does taste better!
Monday, May 30, 2011
See fat girl. Fat girl .... run?!
The clear winner this past Saturday, besides my valiant efforts to keep my running jacket from creeping up above the flub-line mid-stride or from being so "in the zone" that I did not hear the whistles and voices saying to "stay to your right!" as the half-marathon leader was about to pass me, was bodyglide. I did not have one millimeter of chafe-ocity on any part of my inner-thigh region. It was almost as glorious as hearing the man on the stadium loudspeaker say my name as I neared the finish line. Yes, my thighs are singing the glories to a higher power this weekend thanks to the greatest invention since KitKat bites and central air. But it's not just my thighs that feel in love with the impossible this weekend. It was me, too.
See this past Saturday, I turned my impossible to I'Mpossible. Some might look at it as turning anthills in to molehills, or lemons in to lemonade .... but I turned my mind in to a believer. Let's flashback, shall we? ....
Memorial weekend 2010 - My sister in law was going to participate in her first half-marathon. My mom and I decided "sure, let's go up north that weekend and cheer her on!" So we did. We went from cheerpoint to cheerpoint along the course, and it was at the second cheerpoint where I realized "holy cow, look at this. People are cheering as runners, joggers, walkers pass by. They don't even know who some of these people are and they're still cheering them on. That's crazy! That's fun. That's inspirational. Whoa." Then I experienced the finish-line. Talk about a double-rainbow experience (see youtube "double rainbow guy"). Later that afternoon we were all sitting around the outdoor pool at our hotel, enjoying the beautiful weather, when I told my sister-in-law "I think I want to do that next year." I mean those were the words coming out of the mouth of a girl who has NEVER considered running in circles or from point A to point B as anything remotely enjoyable. Was it a moment of verbal insanity? Was I secretly speaking for the skinny man across the pool who was already wearing spandex and looked to have no problem with friction between the legs? Nope, I was speaking for myself. The girl that was at that time (and for some time after) on the verge of being too big for even the biggest sizes at Lane Bryant.
Well that summer I tried to get myself going physically, and although I started eating better (I had joined WW) and working out, something didn't seem right. It didn't feel like my journey just yet. But by December I was physically feeling the worst I've ever felt in my life. The highest weight I was at (that I was even aware of) was 360 and it doesn't take a genius to realize that rounds up to 400, not 300. Something had to change. Enter December 31st. This 360+ pound lady was making some resolutions. I signed up for two races - 10K and a half-marathon. Are you nuts Heather? I mean somebody take this girl's temperature. She's clearly not thinking straight. But I was thinking straight, probably for the first time in a long time. We've all heard Bob and Jillian mention that the journey can't start until you're ready mentally. It's true. I've fought with myself to start losing weight for years. But you start to contemplate that if you're gonna fight for something, why not fight for what you're worth.
So here we were, this past weekend, 50 pounds lighter since I started my weight loss journey back in February, ready to tackle that first weight loss milestone - the 10K that a year ago I had told myself I would participate in. The night before the race I was a nervous wreck. I had gone to pick up my race number etc and while walking through mobs of people I felt so out of place. Suddenly I was holding conversations in my head that I thought others around me were thinking ... "what's she doing here? she's too big to run. I'm doing the same race as this fat girl? What an insult to a REAL runner." I walked out of the gymnasium, found a corner, turned my back towards the people coming in and out, and I quietly started to cry. WHAT WAS I THINKING?!?!?! I DON'T FIT IN! Suddenly flashbacks to childhood memories of not fitting in, or just not fitting in to clothes in general, flooded my mind and all my hard work meant nothing because my mind was telling me THIS was impossible. But I was reminded at that moment (thank you best friend) that "this is your journey." And it is. It's mine. Some incredibly fit runner who can run 6 minute miles doesn't get to control my journey. I do.
So bring it on - race day. Cold and drizzle rain to start. Honestly, I couldn't have cared less. I felt so calm and ready from the very start all the way through to the moment I crossed the finish line. I was scared that my body and mind wouldn't cooperate with each other come miles 4.5 and on, but it was actually miles 3 and on that I was in a complete zone. I felt great. I wish I could go back to that moment again and bottle up that feeling so I could infuse it in to my veins when I need it in the future. As I neared the stadium to finish and the amount of cheering and spectators grew, I suddenly realized I deserved this moment just as much as the athletically fit woman who finished 40 minutes ago. This was my moment. This is my journey. I had done a 5K a month ago and I remember seeing the finish line and feeling like I couldn't run any faster if my life depended on it. However as I approached the finish of my first 10K, my legs and feet felt like that could have continued to run, that they were floating in clouds.
I will never forget that 1:30:15.6 for as long as I live. To me, it meant progression. It meant fight. It meant courage. It meant love. It meant believing in myself for the first time in a long, long time. It meant standing tall for all my "big-boned" sisters who think they can't do something but they can. It meant standing up to my own fears. It meant realizing my worth. It meant taking the impossible and realizing I AM possible.
And I ask .... what are YOU possible of?
See this past Saturday, I turned my impossible to I'Mpossible. Some might look at it as turning anthills in to molehills, or lemons in to lemonade .... but I turned my mind in to a believer. Let's flashback, shall we? ....
Memorial weekend 2010 - My sister in law was going to participate in her first half-marathon. My mom and I decided "sure, let's go up north that weekend and cheer her on!" So we did. We went from cheerpoint to cheerpoint along the course, and it was at the second cheerpoint where I realized "holy cow, look at this. People are cheering as runners, joggers, walkers pass by. They don't even know who some of these people are and they're still cheering them on. That's crazy! That's fun. That's inspirational. Whoa." Then I experienced the finish-line. Talk about a double-rainbow experience (see youtube "double rainbow guy"). Later that afternoon we were all sitting around the outdoor pool at our hotel, enjoying the beautiful weather, when I told my sister-in-law "I think I want to do that next year." I mean those were the words coming out of the mouth of a girl who has NEVER considered running in circles or from point A to point B as anything remotely enjoyable. Was it a moment of verbal insanity? Was I secretly speaking for the skinny man across the pool who was already wearing spandex and looked to have no problem with friction between the legs? Nope, I was speaking for myself. The girl that was at that time (and for some time after) on the verge of being too big for even the biggest sizes at Lane Bryant.
Well that summer I tried to get myself going physically, and although I started eating better (I had joined WW) and working out, something didn't seem right. It didn't feel like my journey just yet. But by December I was physically feeling the worst I've ever felt in my life. The highest weight I was at (that I was even aware of) was 360 and it doesn't take a genius to realize that rounds up to 400, not 300. Something had to change. Enter December 31st. This 360+ pound lady was making some resolutions. I signed up for two races - 10K and a half-marathon. Are you nuts Heather? I mean somebody take this girl's temperature. She's clearly not thinking straight. But I was thinking straight, probably for the first time in a long time. We've all heard Bob and Jillian mention that the journey can't start until you're ready mentally. It's true. I've fought with myself to start losing weight for years. But you start to contemplate that if you're gonna fight for something, why not fight for what you're worth.
So here we were, this past weekend, 50 pounds lighter since I started my weight loss journey back in February, ready to tackle that first weight loss milestone - the 10K that a year ago I had told myself I would participate in. The night before the race I was a nervous wreck. I had gone to pick up my race number etc and while walking through mobs of people I felt so out of place. Suddenly I was holding conversations in my head that I thought others around me were thinking ... "what's she doing here? she's too big to run. I'm doing the same race as this fat girl? What an insult to a REAL runner." I walked out of the gymnasium, found a corner, turned my back towards the people coming in and out, and I quietly started to cry. WHAT WAS I THINKING?!?!?! I DON'T FIT IN! Suddenly flashbacks to childhood memories of not fitting in, or just not fitting in to clothes in general, flooded my mind and all my hard work meant nothing because my mind was telling me THIS was impossible. But I was reminded at that moment (thank you best friend) that "this is your journey." And it is. It's mine. Some incredibly fit runner who can run 6 minute miles doesn't get to control my journey. I do.
So bring it on - race day. Cold and drizzle rain to start. Honestly, I couldn't have cared less. I felt so calm and ready from the very start all the way through to the moment I crossed the finish line. I was scared that my body and mind wouldn't cooperate with each other come miles 4.5 and on, but it was actually miles 3 and on that I was in a complete zone. I felt great. I wish I could go back to that moment again and bottle up that feeling so I could infuse it in to my veins when I need it in the future. As I neared the stadium to finish and the amount of cheering and spectators grew, I suddenly realized I deserved this moment just as much as the athletically fit woman who finished 40 minutes ago. This was my moment. This is my journey. I had done a 5K a month ago and I remember seeing the finish line and feeling like I couldn't run any faster if my life depended on it. However as I approached the finish of my first 10K, my legs and feet felt like that could have continued to run, that they were floating in clouds.
I will never forget that 1:30:15.6 for as long as I live. To me, it meant progression. It meant fight. It meant courage. It meant love. It meant believing in myself for the first time in a long, long time. It meant standing tall for all my "big-boned" sisters who think they can't do something but they can. It meant standing up to my own fears. It meant realizing my worth. It meant taking the impossible and realizing I AM possible.
And I ask .... what are YOU possible of?
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