Some inspiration

My friend Laura passed along these inspiring columns about an overweight runner's marathon success, and so I want to pass them along to you. The author writes beautifully about her struggles and successes.

http://cityroom.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/11/06/sweat-already-a-winner/#comments

http://cityroom.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/11/08/she-got-her-gold-more-important-she-earned-her-gold/

Self-reflecting

I sat down in the sand, looking out at the very blue ocean. The sun reflected on the water, making it look like glass. All around me, families laughed and couples took photos and friends chatted. A little girl did a walking handstand toward the water, her parents warning her of the incoming tide and laughing when the water crept up to her hands.

And there I sat. I had just finished the Wicked 10K at the Oceanfront. And I was feeling very much alone, the thoughts in my head telling me I had - once again - failed seeming louder than ever.

It was a day that started hours earlier when I sat up not knowing where I was or why my alarm clock was going off in the middle of the night. I had only been asleep for four hours having worked late the night before. But I got up, dressed in my costume (a blind referee), grimaced as I looked at my fat self in the mirror (the costume was way too tight) and took off for the Beach.

I felt very self-conscious in my costume, hating how I looked. It's weird to feel like the freak when you're surrounded by people dressed as horses, cartoon characters, sumo wrestlers. But I did.

I spent the next hour searching for my friends who also were running the race, but I never found them. I had to have a stranger take my photo so I could document how I looked. I immediately regretted that.

I was pleased when I started running that I could actually run. I had spent the previous two weeks worrying about my sore knee and shin. I had tested the waters when I went hiking in the mountains the week before and was so pleased when I was able to climb up steep hills and not feel pain (though going down the hills was another story). But who knew how I would feel until I actually started racing.

I ran the first mile fine, but during Mile 2 or 3 my legs cramped up. It didn't help that we had entered a stretch of the Boardwalk and I was running on concrete, a big no-no for big girls like myself. So I had to walk. And watch as a Hippie, a Fred Flintstone and, yes, even a Snail passed me by.

Around Mile 4, I found my second wind and took off running faster. I felt great. Even the last mile - another stretch of Boardwalk concrete - wasn't awful.

But my time was.

I finished in 1:23:30, pretty much my worst 10K ever.

Months before, when I had decided I was not going to train for the Marine Corps Marathon, I had made my new goal to PR in the Wicked. Instead, here I was, failing again.

Now, after searching the beach for my friends and coming up empty, I plopped down on the sand and looked out at the ocean. I thought about the past week and how my life was so different from what it was a year ago, two years ago, five years ago. I felt lonelier than ever. Fatter than ever. My boyfriend and I had broken up after almost four years together. My birthday the day before consisted of paying bills, cleaning and going to work. The only birthday cake I had was via the piece I bought myself at the grocery store; the biggest excitement of the day was trying to figure out who the "Aunt" was who didn't receive the birthday cake that had now been cut up and priced as individual pieces. My slice said "Happy."

The tide was coming in, the water creeping up closer to my seat on the sand. I watched as it washed away footprints and the girl's handprints from her walking handstand. As each mark in the sand was erased, I tried to do the same to the negativity in my head.

And I realized how silly it was for me to sit there complaining about a life that was pretty blessed. I was able to run without pain. I had a job that allowed me to pay the bills. I had the money to buy that slice of cake. And I was sitting at the ocean on a perfect autumn day.

I got up and headed for my car.

"Diana!" Brian exclaimed as we walked past each other. "Colleen and John and Laura are over here."

I had finally found my friends.

A little break

Well I made it to Saturday, eating my 1,200 calories all week and ready to not worry so much (but also not go crazy). I haven't lost any more weight, and I blame my leg. My knee still hurts and I'm beginning to worry that it's something more serious. When I get back on Tuesday, I'll reassess my situation, but I'm guessing it will involve 1) a physical therapy appointment and 2) joining the YMCA so I can swim. I've got to get some cardio exercise.

I hope and pray I'll be OK hiking this weekend. I've been so looking forward to this mountain trip and I want to enjoy this beautiful weather. Here's hoping....

On a positive note, my black jeans seem to fit just fine so I have two pair I can wear this weekend.

Pre-vacation weight: 208.

I'll report back on Wednesday....

So hungry

So, yeah, I really hurt my leg/knee/shin/ankle this week/weekend. Either I hurt it running after falling on it or I hurt it running on concrete in the race or I hurt it running 7.25 miles on Monday even though it was already hurting.

Now it's busted.

I've iced and elevated and rested and am now using a knee brace for just day-to-day use. But I am so antsy. I want to run. But I know it's not good. Unfortunately, I quit my gym recently b/c it stopped offering classes, so I don't even have other options.

Which means restricting my calories even more. Which means I AM HUNGRY.

Here's how serious I am about trying to be good before my mini vacation coming up this weekend: A friend gave me a nice hearty tub of her homemade macaroni and cheese. I loooove mac and cheese. And it's full of cheese. Last night, I had about an eighth of a cup of it (leaving like 3 more cups in the tub). It was heavenly. But I'm afraid of it. So I'm trying to just have a tiny bit every day.

The scale went back up on Sunday/Monday after a bit of indulgence last weekend, so I'm trying desperately to get it back down. While this weekend will include some hiking (Lord willing and the knee doesn't break), I'm sure it also will include non-diet foods. I must be careful.

I hope and pray I can run in the 10K next weekend. Yes, this is the 10K I hoped to PR in. Now my goal is to simply run it. How my standards have changed...

Official time

Between the afternoon weigh-in that showed results and the Komen 5K official race times I just found, I think God was really, really, really trying to put a smile on my face yesterday.

No, I didn't do much better in the Komen all of a sudden. My official time was 37:08. But that put my average mile at 11:59. God wanted me to see that "11" and feel better. And oddly enough, it kinda does make me feel better!

P.S. I just logged the race into my running calendar and, surprise: It actually WAS my best time this year. Turns out that 0.1 of the 3.1-mile race threw me off a little. My previous best time (of the year) was a 12:11-minute-mile. I'll be!

Feeling better after a nap

Oh, today.

I weighed myself and was up 0.2 pound. I ran in the Komen race and finished much later than I'd hoped and expected. I was as blue as a girl can be on a beautiful October morning.

As I laid down for a nap after the race, my left leg began to hurt terribly. But I was too tired to get up and get the ice pack. So I just slept.

One hour later, I got up for work. Leg still hurt. But my mood was a little better.

I decided to step on the scale again, thinking, "Yeah I know I just ran and ate a banana and drank a lot of water but it's later in the day and maybe the early, early weigh-in was off because I had really just gone to bed hours earlier."

Turned out, maybe that thinking had some truth to it. I was down 1.6 pounds from last week's weigh-in.

So, despite the very sore leg, I was a bit happier.

Now, back to the race. I decided to give my Garmin to a friend who has been training super hard and wanted to PR today. I knew she could really use it and I thought it could be cool to try running without a watch.

I ran and ran, keeping what I thought was a great pace. And I never stopped. Not for water, not to walk, not for a second. And that was my big goal. There were moments near the end when I wanted to stop for "just a bit." But I kept at it. I felt good. Felt strong. Was wondering if, maybe, I was running in record time.

Then I saw it.

The damn clock.

37 minutes it read.

Seriously?

I crossed shortly after, somewhere around 37:30 or so, maybe later. I was really, really bummed.

But I had no watch and I accomplished the one goal I could set: running the whole thing. And I was happy to not be hurting during the race.

Now, though, I sit here at work with an ice pack on my leg. There's pain, bad pain, limping pain. All I can do is ice and rest and hope and pray.

(P.S. My friend did AWESOME. And my Garmin is so confused, as it's not accustomed to a 10-minute-mile pace. Maybe one day it will get there again, on my own wrist.)

We shall see

It's been a different week for me. A week devoid of much exercise - but for a reason.

On Tuesday while cleaning, I slipped and fell in my apartment. Fell on my left knee, skinning it pretty bad but also leaving it really sore. On Wednesday and Thursday walking home from work has also brought on some shin pain, mostly, I think, because I've been walking faster (one does that on a dark night at 12:30 a.m.) in not the best shoes.

I've got a 5K tomorrow - one I've been looking forward to for months. I really want to do well, and I've been afraid if I pushed myself this week I'd just injure myself more. So I've rested and iced and massaged. I hope and pray tomorrow's race will be a successful one. But I also really hope and pray it won't be a painful one.

So I've had to limit my calories extra this week without the exercise factored in. I've kept myself to 1200 calories a day all week. Last night I got pretty hungry, but I still survived.

I had a moment of satisfaction yesterday when I dressed for class, wearing a pair of pants I bought at the beginning of the semester. They were starting to feel a little looser, so that was nice. And I did wear a pair of jeans this week, though I may have pushed it too much. They were kinda tight.

The next three weekends hold many food temptations - some of which I already plan on indulging in. So I plan to weigh in on Saturdays for at least the next three weeks. Based on today's scale reading, I don't expect to see much difference from last week, but even if it's 0.2 I'll be happy(ish). I'm looking forward to upping the exercise next week (if the legs are OK, Lord help me), which hopefully will help.

I realize I'm entering the months that have always been hardest for me. Stress and holidays and indulgences. I'm just trying really hard to inch downward on the scale instead of zooming upward.

I like what she says

I just ran across this story and wanted to share it with you.

This woman understands what it takes to lose weight. I love her thinking, how she refuses to let the scale get to her and how she changes things up every now and then.

Great advice.

I woke up very depressed, as I have for the past few days. I don't know what's wrong with me. Very tired all the time, not motivated to go running. Yesterday, I decided to postpone my long run until today. Today, I am struggling to get out there. I'll go - it's my only "to-do" for the entire day - but I wish I was more pumped about it.

As for the weekly weigh-in yesterday, I was at 209.4. So I lost 0.4 from last week. I didn't hit my goal, but at least it went down. I learned my lesson, too. Inhaling a bunch of bread and cheese isn't going to get you closer to your goals.

Not that the lesson was enough to stop me yesterday. I ate too many Weight Watchers ice cream snacks. And I ate a bunch of pretzel rods with peanut butter. I was bummed. And really for no reason. I was able to enjoy the sunshine yesterday and had a girls'-afternoon-out with a good friend. But I felt heavy hearted last night. I just couldn't see beyond the jar of peanut butter.

Today is a new day, with new possibilities. As soon as I can get myself moving, I'll go out to First Landing on this gorgeous day. I'll run. My goal is between 10 and 11 miles, but if I do 7 that's cool, too. (I've decided I will not be doing the half marathon in November but I will do a 10-miler in December.) Then I hope to head to the beach and just sit there and enjoy the day. I must say I am glad the warmer temperatures are back. They make for slower running, but feeling the sun on my shoulders always makes me feel better.

Woe is me

It's so frustrating, I tell you, to work so hard and see no change. All week, after Monday, I ate under 1,300 calories a day and ran hard and even worked out a fourth day. And I still weigh more than I did last Sunday.

All because of bread and cheese?

I'm frustrated, too, because the weather is getting cooler and I want to bring out the jeans. I own a bunch of jeans of various sizes. None really fit me. Some will zip but I look like a fool in them, as they're super tight.

I also have some occasions coming up where I'll be eating out, and it stresses me to think of putting on more weight. I so wanted to tackle these 20 pounds during the fall semester. And I do admit, I feel better knowing that I haven't succumbed to daily stress eating and run-avoidance. I'm still working really hard. And I know it will take time to see change and if I stop now, I'll never see that change. I just can't help but worry.

I hope I can plug along. I'm starting to see changes in my running and that is a good thing. Gotta think about that.

A hurtin'

I can't believe it's almost Friday and I haven't written since Monday. It's been a very busy week with class and running and work. I had intended to write during my class's midterm exam today, but the computer wasn't working.

So here I am, trying to stay awake and finding that typing is helping. (Forgive me, though, for the poor writing; I'll be lucky if I can spell correctly tonight.)

I'll begin with Monday, because it was the source of my big frustration of the week. Remember how I didn't eat outside the diet box on Sunday? Well, I did on Monday. I ate baked tortilla chips and salsa and a bunch of cheese and bread. That's about all I ate, but I ate a lot of it.

I purposely didn't weigh myself Tuesday.

But I did on Wednesday.

Up three pounds.

Really? Really?

So I was bummed I did such a stupid thing. I know I didn't eat 9,000 calories worth of chips and cheese. But my body apparently just sucks up carbs and won't let go.

I ran on Tuesday before class and felt really good, really fast, only to find out my time was about two minutes worse than last week's 3-miler. Bummed again.

On Wednesday at work, a co-worker brought me an iced coffee as a thank-you gift. I don't usually drink coffee. But it was yummy, only 80 calories, and I was tired. So I drank it all.

Needless to say, last night, as I tried to sleep, I was WIDE AWAKE. I could not sleep for hours. When my alarm went off at 7, I hit snooze a bunch and was about to cancel my before-class run and sleep instead. But I feared oversleeping and missing the midterm. So I got up. And I ran.

The first mile was slower, again, than I thought I felt. But I must've been angry at that, because the second mile was the fastest I've run in a year. Then the third was pretty good, and my overall time showed a huge improvement. It was the best pace and the best three-miler since Oct. 17, 2009. I was very, very happy.

Of course now at work, I'm a hurtin'. I knew after my run that I needed to stretch extra and ice just in case. Whenever I run faster, I end up injuring myself. So I stretched and stretched and iced before and after class.

I'm not in pain, thankfully. But I am hurtin'. It's the good kind -- the muscle soreness that lets you know you worked extra hard.

Feels good.