Wandering Eyes - Empty Soul

Lately I feel like time is moving fast - a day may feel long, but weeks and months are flying by.  And yet... Inside I feel stagnant.  Like I am trudging along, barely keeping up.  Every day has its routine, and I am keeping up with the day to day monotonous parts of life - the laundry, the cooking, the grocery shopping, my responsibilities at work, the bills.  But my soul and spirit are stuck in a mud pit. The passion and focus I felt earlier this year has waned, and sits heavy in the back of my mind.  Beckoning me. 

I hear the question, "Is the life we're building enough?"  "Am I enough?"

And, then my eyes wander.

I notice moms who seem to be constantly putting their children's needs first, going to the park, playing games with their children, creating experiences that are once in a life time.  While I tell my kids to go outside and play, let me read a little bit more in this book and then I'll see the drawing you just made, and I feel like I'm giving them my left overs.

And, I think, "Am I enough?"

As I log training miles for my upcoming triathlon, I look around and see faster times, longer rides, smoother transitions.  I see people excelling with (what appears to be) less effort than me, and who will be better than average after less training effort.  And, after the miles and time and effort, I still sit at average.

And, I think, "Am I enough?"

I see friends with goals - to lose weight, to pay off debt, to go back to school, to get the promotion.  And, I am getting through each day for what it is, crashing on the couch and barely keeping my eyes open long enough to check Facebook.

And, I think, "Am I enough?"

 

When my eyes wander, my soul compares. And, as Theodore Roosevelt said, "Comparison is the thief of joy." It's no wonder I feel stagnant, empty, and like there is a void in my life.  Each time I allow my eyes to wander, I am giving my joy to the thief... comparison.  Each time I allow my eyes to wander, I give a piece of my joy to the person to whom I am comparing myself.  The joy I could be feeling about my life - my accomplishments, my small victories, my unique qualities - is stolen and there is a hole in its place.

The bottom line is I AM ENOUGH.  My goals are enough.  My work is enough.  My pace and times are enough.  Even if I was doing nothing, not even one thing, I AM ENOUGH.  My worth is not wrapped up in my job, my kids, my husband, my house, my races, my times, what I eat and how much, the shape of my body and what size I am, how many books I've read lately, or anything else that is visible on the outside.

I seem to have lost sight of this simple truth - My worth, my enough-ness if you will, just is.  I am enough because I am.  Because I was created and am enough in my Creator's eyes.



Full Disclosure - I Love My Body

I love my body.

There, I said it.

And even more amazing, I mean it.

I was getting ready for the day after swimming this morning, and walking back and forth between the bedroom and our master bathroom.  Drying off, putting lotion on, brushing my teeth.  I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror and I thought, "I love my body."

My belly is squishier than I'd like, my thighs are larger than my ideal, my love handles are noticeable, my butt isn't tight or lifted, I have varicose veins.  Everywhere.  I have cellulite.  I have stretch marks. My breasts sag.  I have back fat, and my bra lines are not smooth.

This morning, though, I walked by the mirror and saw the same things I listed above.  The same things that on my not-so-good days I focus on with intensity.  The same things I would be embarrassed if you heard my inner dialogue about on certain days.  I saw those same things, and yet I thought, "I love my body."

I love that my body allowed me to complete a fairly intense swim work out this morning.  I love that my body cooperated when I did a short run last night.  I love that my muscles work together and allow me to complete the tasks of daily living, and are also up for the challenge of exercise, triathlon, playing with my kids, hiking with my family, taking a walk with a friend.

My body carried and delivered two gorgeous human beings, and then provided sustenance for those same babies.  My body is beautiful in my husband's eyes. My body is nothing short of miraculous.

And so is yours.  Love your body.

Dear Andrea,...

Some days I feel the urge to swim laps.  Other days I have the underlying need to go for a run outside.  I can feel these urges rise from my feet, through the rest of  my body, ultimately landing in the recesses of mind and nagging me until I suit up or walk out the door with a route in mind.  I am average at both swimming and running, but that doesn't matter.  They are my therapy.

I notice these urges most when my mind is cluttered, and I feel like I cannot keep my focus.

Running or swimming pulls me out of the stress of the moment.  I focus on my breathing, my technique, and eventually I get in a rhythm.  That rhythm is peaceful and welcome.  And frees and opens my mind.

One such running therapy day, I wrote a letter to myself in my mind (transposed to reality below):

Dear Andrea,

In twenty years, you will be thankful when you look back and see that you spent your time cleaning the kitchen, folding laundry and de-cluttering the house. You will also be thankful you chose to let the laundry pile up, the food dry on the dirty dishes and the crafting supplies and Pokémon cards lay around the house.

You will be thankful when you got up early, exercised, ate healthy throughout the day, and fit into the pair of pants that were getting a bit tight around the waist.  You will also be thankful that you threw healthy out the window and ate duck fat fries, slept in after a night on the town with friends, and wore fleece lined leggings because the jeans just weren't going to work that day.

You will be thankful you asked your children to be their best, did homework with them each night, signed them up for activities to broaden their horizons and beamed at their grade cards.  You will also be thankful when you let them skip homework to go sledding, allowed for pockets of time when they were at home and cuddling with you in the evening watching TV, and that you allowed them to fail.

You will be thankful you saved money, paid cash for as much as possible, paid down debt, and put money into retirement.  You will also be thankful for the spur of the moment decisions to eat out or go on a shopping spree.  The moments when your husband decided to buy you a meaningful gift even if there wasn't money in the budget, and the times you wondered where next week's groceries would come from.

Stop stressing about making the "right" decisions with your time.  When you assume there are right decisions then automatically that creates a wrong decision.  Instead, choose a peaceful decision.  A decision that promotes peace in yourself, peace in your household or peace in others in that moment.

And be confident in that decision.

With love,
Me  

Mini Me

This week it became obvious that my daughter is my mini me.

Most mornings I get ready and leave for work while the kids are eating breakfast.  I typically give them hugs and kisses for the day when they are still in their jammies, and daddy has the morning responsibility of getting them dressed and out the door for school.  Wednesday I wore skinny jeans, boots and a random top to work. Wednesday I got home and Miss J had on HER skinny jeans, boots and a top. Thursday I had to dress up and wore a dress, boots and jeans jacket.  I got home on Thursday and Jenna had a dress on with boots.  Friday I was looking forward to spring and wore a long, bright skirt with boots and a denim shirt.  I got home on Friday and Jenna was wearing a long skirt with boots.  She has recently also decided that she wants her bangs to "go to the side like yours, mommy."

I see my daughter's infectious smile, I hear her hearty laugh, I experience her confidence and her independent streak on a daily basis.  I see her love her body and the way it moves when she dances and twirls. I understand her need to be right, her need to follow the rules, her need to befriend everyone and her hurt and frustration when friends promise to play with her, but don't follow through on their promise.  She is as strong as she is sensitive.

And I never want her to lose those characteristics.

I especially never want her to change her opinion of herself because of how I talk about myself or treat myself.  She is watching.  Every day.  From the way I interact with people to the way I talk about myself, from the way I talk about eating and exercising to the way I dress.  She is watching.  With beautiful brown eyes full of awe, innocence and confidence.

I want to shrink away from her watching eyes and ask her not to emulate me.  I want to tell her I am not perfect and she can do so much better.  But to her, to my sweet daughter, I AM PERFECT.  Whether or not she realizes it, she sees her future in my present.

And because of that I will keep trying.

I will continue to watch my words around her - I will specifically steer clear of the words "fat" and "diet" when referring to myself.  After all, she is built just like me... so any negative thing I say about my body will be ingrained in her mind when she continues to grow and begins to notice her pants gap at the waist just to be able to fit over her muscular calves and thighs. I will allow her to see me eat salads as well as juicy burgers and french fries. I want her to know food is meant to make her body and bones strong and sometimes three cookies is just fine. I will allow her to see me try new things like knitting while also showing her the holes in scarf I'm working on.  I will allow her to see me set a goal like completing a half marathon or a triathlon even though I will be far from the fastest or best.  I want her to know it is perfectly okay to try.  Just try and have fun doing it.  I will continue to love myself on the inside AND the outside.  No matter my size and whether or not I have spider veins and cellulite.

My daughter is my mini me right now.  And I do not take that responsibility lightly.

GROW

When I think of things that GROW two things come to mind immediately.  I have two beautiful children and we often comment on how big they are getting and ask them, "Can you please stop growing?"  They usually roll their eyes, laugh and respond with a version of, "I can't stop growing, Mommy."  Growing also instantly brings to mind my growing love of gardening.  At this moment I consider myself a novice gardener.  We had a small vegetable garden at our house for the past three years, and I enjoy planting and tending to flowers.  Gardening brings me joy, my children bring me joy.

Even though I observe other people and things around me that grow, I usually do not stop long enough to evaluate my own growth - let alone take steps to fertilize my own growth. 

Last year was a year of significant change for me personally, and it was/is refreshing.  The change has also reminded me of how stagnant I had become, how okay I was with my average status quo.  Now that I know the depths of joy focusing on positive change can bring I want to continue growing and not become stagnant again. 

This year, I am focusing on the word GROW.  Our first sermon series this year at church is titled "GROW" and it will take a look at the fruits of the spirit.  As soon as I heard the word, I knew that I wanted it to stick with me all year. 

Back to my beautiful children and our garden.  I know that both grow because of what is invested in them.  My children grow when they have supportive adults in their lives that challenge them at school, church, activities and home.  They also grow when we lovingly discipline them.  Our garden grows when we water and fertilize it, prune it and harvest ripe fruit.  Although I jokingly ask my kids to stop growing, honestly, I wouldn't want them to stop.  I love seeing their progress and watching them blossom in to the individuals they are becoming. 

I don't know what to expect out of this year.  I don't know exactly how I will grow, but I do know that when I look back on 2014 I want to be aware of the ways in which I grew.  Instead of just going through the motions of life, I want to make a conscious effort to grow in certain areas of my life.  I have a goal to grow in my athletic life.  I will be tracking my running/biking/swimming this year for the first time ever.  I will also be participating in my first triathlon and, if my body cooperates, I will be run/walking my second half marathon.  I also have a goal to spend 10 minutes a day in spiritual growth (journaling, listening to podcasts, reading the Bible, reading books, etc.).

In addition to my specific goals, I want to be aware and be able to acknowledge those moments that stretch me when "life happens," and I want to be able to pinpoint how I grew through those moments.  I am a bit nervous writing about "life" moments, because I don't want to bring anything "bad" on to myself or my family.  But I also realistically know that "life" happens no matter what I write, say or think.  How I respond and grow through those situations is what shapes my character.

As a visual reminder of growth, I will be tending to this plant throughout the year.  Each time I water it, prune it and fertilize it, I pray I can be reminded of my word - GROW.  I have no doubt throughout the year there will be people who speak truth in my life - who support me, love me and challenge me.  I also realize there will be moments where I will need to be pruned - where God will show me areas to let go.  I believe God will also reveal fruits that are ripe and ready to be used.  I am looking forward to a year of continued focused growth.

How do you measure a year?

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes

Five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?
 

One year ago today I wrote these words: "I am 30 pounds overweight, snack on junk at night after the kids go to bed, and tend to spend the last hour or more of my night crashed on the couch watching TV and surfing the internet. I make excuses why I can't get up in the morning to exercise and why I can't exercise in the evening..."

I was scared sharing "my word" for 2013 with the world.  I knew I had been at these crossroads multiple times over the past 10 years.  I had made the decision many times before to put my foot down, make a change and make better decisions for my health - to be DISCIPLINED.  What would it mean this time, what would it look like?

On that evening 365 days ago I shared a vision of where I wanted to be when I sat down and reflected on 2013.  "Three hundred sixty-five days from now as I am reflecting on 2013 I am sure there will be successes, I am also sure there will be times I tried and failed.  Ultimately I hope the vision I've been given of myself will be closer to reality and the discipline I incorporate daily for myself will allow me to be free from the burden of 10 years of failed promises."

How do you measure, measure a year?
In daylights, in sunsets
In midnights, in cups of coffee
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife

In five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes

How do you measure, measure a year in the life?

 

Learning to overcome the chains of perfectionism.
Wading through the muck of old patterns.
Creating new habits and patterns.
Throwing fits about the "life sentence" I was dealing myself.
Celebrating early success.
Finding easy ways to eat healthy.

Getting overwhelmed.

Losing my focus.

Taking time to understand my story.

Learning how to forgive myself.

 

How do you measure, measure a year?
In truths that she learned

Or in times that he cried

In bridges he burned

Or the way that she died
 

I discovered a deep truth about myself: That I had lived my life up to this point seeking praise from others.  I realized that the only way to make lasting change was to look inward at the person God made me and start to love myself. 

 

How do you measure, measure a year?

How about love?

Measure in love

 

I began to allow God to work on me from the inside.  God taught me how to actually love myself and forgive myself in a way that allowed me to have faith in my abilities again. I set a goal that I never would have set only months prior.  I started to love myself in a way that allowed me to push through adversity and injury and accomplish more than I had ever dreamed.

 

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes

How do you measure the life of a woman or a man?

After being shaped and changed from the inside, I started to get outside reactions to the changes I had made.  I was focused inward so much, that although I was losing weight I just wasn't focused on the outward result.  My clothes started getting loose and I had to get new clothes.  People complimented and commented, and at first I was upset.  This was such a personal journey, such an inward change, that hearing other people comment on the outward changes, my body, made everything feel cheap and brought attention to me in a way that I wasn't prepared for.  After more processing and tears, I am learning not only to love the inward person I have become, but to also love the outward changes that others are noticing.  I am learning not to hide anymore.  I am learning to have faith in myself that I won't go back to where I was before.  I am still learning to take this journey one step at a time while also celebrating my successes along the way.

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?

How about love?

Let's celebrate

Remember the love

 

(Song writer: Jonathan D. Larson)

I am celebrating the start of 2014 without a weight loss goal and with confidence in myself.  I am "free from the burden of 10 years of failed promises" as I hoped I would be. I am thankful to reflect on the past, while at the same time looking forward to the next 365 days.  I am ready to settle in to a routine of health while at the same time challenge myself in new and different ways.

Stay tuned, because I am ready to GROW.

Observations

I like feeling strong. I like that I can do leg raises & crunches and not feel like my stomach muscles are going to pull apart.  I like that I can swim or run/elliptical for an hour and feel good when I'm done.  I like seeing muscle definition in my legs/arms again.

I like wearing a smaller size. It's fun getting dressed in the morning.

I like not feeling bloated all of the time.  Man alive.  That alone helps my clothes fit better.

I like having energy.  I am still ready for bed by 9:30pm, but now it is because my days start early and are so full.  It is because I am literally exhausted and my body needs to sleep.  It is not because I am unhealthy and in a food coma.

I like feeling in control of my emotions.  I yell at my kids much less than I used to.  It is not as much of a roller coaster ride in our house any more.  That's better for everyone, really.

I like feeling like the world is bright.  I didn't realize how dark everything felt and just how oppressed and depressed I was.  I didn't understand how heavy the burden was that I was carrying. I feel lighter in every sense of the word.

I like weighing less than my husband. No really... I used to weigh approximately 8-9 pounds MORE than my hubby who is a full 8 inches taller than me. Not cool.

I am surprised how much easier being healthy is than I thought.  It takes planning and time.  It takes making time for exercise, as well as finding avenues of exercise that I enjoy so it doesn't feel like such a chore.  It takes setting goals (for me) to stay motivated.  But, it really all does become habit.  And I really do feel different when I haven't exercised or I've overindulged for a few days.  I miss it when I'm not doing it, and that makes it easier than I ever thought it would be.

I am surprised at my reactions to people's comment/compliments.  I always wanted people to notice in the past when I had lost a few pounds.  They would comment on the weight loss my hubby achieved and I would get angry when they didn't comment on my weight loss.  (Truth is, no one could tell I had lost weight.) Now, I get compliments and people are noticing.  It was all at once.  I had been losing weight all along, but there was a turning point when other people started to notice.  I liked it and hated it at the same time.  It felt gratifying and horrifying at the same time.  People were noticing my body.  People were noticing that I had lost weight.  What if I fail and gain it back?  For awhile the compliments made me want to hide.  I can't say I'm 100% okay with the comments/compliments.  But I'm getting much better and am thankful that people can see the hard work I've been putting in.

I am surprised how much colder I am.  I definitely dress in layers out of necessity now.  As I'm typing this I have a pair of those flip glove things on (the ones that have the ends of the fingers cut off).  I am also considering putting on a scarf.

I didn't know that I would feel like a faker sometimes.  There are days when I put on the smaller size pants and think, "Seriously?  How do I get to wear these?  I'm such a faker with this whole health thing."  I still eat sweets, albiet a controlled amount that is within my desired calorie intake for the day.  I exercise 4 times a week.  But I feel like it should be more work.  Maybe that's because the bulk of my weight loss progress was made when I was training for my half marathon, which WAS a lot of work.  And, now that I am not training, I feel like a faker.  Like, at any moment someone is going to "unfog" the mirrors that I stand in front of and reveal the overweight, unhappy, stressed person I was back in January. 

I am constantly surprised at how much emotional/mental/spiritual work this journey has been/is/will be for me.  Just when I feel like I'm making progress physically, an emotional/mental/spiritual challenge pops up.  My biggest advice, if you were to ask me, on losing weight and getting healthy is to work on your heart and head first within your framework of faith.  Without that base, it will be much harder to be successful and make lasting change.

I am surprised that there are still moments/days when I look at myself in a mirror and see "fat." I mean, obviously I still have fat on my body.  But there are days when I still think I look fat.  I want to see an accurate picture of myself. Through someone else's eyes. I feel like my vision is distorted. Even though I am .2 pounds away from my goal for the year I still see what I don't like about myself. 

It is clear I am on a journey.  Sometimes it's nice to pull off at an observation deck/look out point for a break while on the journey.  Hope you enjoyed the view.

 

Stop Giving Up

(Thanks for introducing me to this picture, Tanya.)

Let's do some math.

Completing a HUGE fitness goal + colder temperatures/windy/rainy + tweaked knee joint + Halloween candy + pure exhaustion + child puking = ??????????????????????????? Loss of motivation.

(Spread the next equation over the past 13 years.) Add 5 pounds + 15 pounds - 10 pounds + 10 pounds + 5 pounds + two pregnancies - breastfeeding + not exercising + 10 pounds - 10 pounds = a lot of yo-yo dieting and an out of shape and overweight person.

I have been here, at this exact spot, many times on my fitness road.  I feel like up to this point in my adult married life my fitness progress was sometimes two steps forward one step back and, on a more regular basis, one step forward two steps back.  Train for a 5K then stop running. Count calories for awhile then stop. Start. Stop. Start. Stop.  This cycle left me tired, out of shape, overweight and completely and utterly disappointed in myself over and over again.

The nasty voice in my head lately says, "You've already met a huge fitness goal for this year. Just stop for awhile."  And, "How will this time be any different, Andrea?  You've come this far but we both know you always give up.  So, you might as well give up now." (Seriously, who let that voice in my head and why is it so freaking hard to drown out?!)

Luckily, this morning I didn't listen to that voice.  I got out of my warm & cozy bed, walked downstairs, put on my swimsuit, brushed my teeth, put my contacts in and walked out of the house with puffy eyes barely open enough to drive to the University.  I walked through the 36 degree dark morning, up the steps and in to the natatorium.  I hesitated and then let the cold pool water take my breath away for a moment.  Then I pushed off and took one stroke at a time.

And when I was done I felt strong enough to tell the negative voice up in my head to shut up.  I felt confident enough to move forward.  One step at a time.

Defining Moment

"Be persistent. You can do it.  Be persistent.  You can do it.  Be persistent.  You can do it."

Approximately two weeks ago I was up at the crack of dawn, standing in Corral D shivering on a dark, cold and windy morning.  I was with approximately 18,000 other half and full marathoners.  Every single individual woke up and braved the cold for their own reason - every individual had their own story to tell.  The couple in their 70s directly behind me were walking their second half marathon together - the husband completed 10 full marathons in his glory years before his body told him to stop.  The group huddled together in front of me were running in honor of a beautiful little boy who didn't win his fight with a disease.  The woman beside me just enjoyed running and thought this would be a good race to try.

We were all there with one purpose - to complete a half/full marathon - but with unique motivation.

We heard the first wave start and walked forward a bit.  Then the second, third and fourth groups.  By that time the sun was starting to rise and so was the excitement in the pit of my stomach.  This was it.  This was what I had been training for since April.  This is what I had overcome injuries and obstacles, both physical and mental, to be able to complete. 

The band started playing Hang on Sloopy - a crowd favorite when you're in downtown Columbus, OH, home of The Ohio State Buckeyes.  Hands went up in the air - O-H-I-O!

It was time.  It was our wave.  I heard the band singing, "Highway to hell...." and smiled at how well it fit the moment.  There I was, volunteering to run for 2.5+ hours straight.  My own personal highway to hell.

10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1

Fireworks, cheers and forward movement!

My hubby's advice played through my ear, "Be lazy in the first half, persistent in the second half."  I was weaving in between the crowd of people to stake my claim on some portion of the road and also try to establish my pace.

And then I looked around, at the other racers, at the throng of spectators cheering all of us on, at the elite marathoners already in mile 7 looping past us and the roar of clapping and cheering from everyone as they sprinted by.  And I thought, "Take all of it in. Enjoy this."

If people were offering high fives, I gave them out.  If people had funny signs ("You are running better than the government," "There is a mortuary around the corner, look alive") I smiled and laughed.  I read the signs describing the children who had survived a disease or illness and for whom this race was a fundraiser.  I listened to the bands and DJs, and wished a guy wearing a birthday hat while running next to his wife wearing a sign that said "This is his 40th birthday AND his first half marathon" on her back a happy birthday.

In training my best miles had always been miles 4, 5 and 6.  Before that my muscles were still getting warmed up and after that my muscles would start breaking down and my knees would start complaining.  I was sailing through those miles during the race and then, all of a sudden, it hit.

I can't explain the feeling that comes during a longer distance race when you know it's time to buckle down and ignore what your body is telling you.  I've heard it happens to most long distance runners.  Where you literally have to tell yourself to keep going no matter what.  And I started hearing my mind telling my body, "Be persistent. You can do it. Be persistent. You can do it." 

I gave myself small goals.  Get through mile 10, then you'll almost be back to High Street (where I knew there would be crowds of people).  Then the goals got even smaller. Get up this hill.  Make it to the next street. Just run for 4 more minutes, then you'll get a one minute break.  I put things in perspective - "all I have left to run is the equivalent of church to home." Or, "I only have 30 minutes left, I can make it through 30 minutes."

I turned on to High Street and started mile 11 and realized I wasn't taking it all in anymore.  I was so focused on forward motion during miles 9 & 10 that I lost the ambiance of the race.  The high fives. The kids cheering on their parents. The excited look on spectators' faces when they saw the person they had been holding a sign for the whole morning.

The road started to get crowded with spectators as I came up on mile 12 - the angel mile.  The mile dedicated to those children who lost their fight at Nationwide Children's Hospital.  White banners lined the streets in memory of those children and signs were posted along the way, "Look up, they are smiling down on you." I knew I could run for 12 more minutes.

"Be persistent.  You can do it.  Be persistent.  You can do it."

The beauty of it all?  I believed myself - I was persistent and I did it.  I rounded the final corner and ran down the .1 mile straight away to the finish line with crowds lining both sides cheering me on.  ME.  They were cheering ME on.  And I cried.  I cried and threw my arms up in victory and I knew the deep sense of accomplishment I felt at that moment would never be taken away from me.

Accomplishment

"There will be little rubs and disappointments everywhere, and we are all apt to expect too much; but then, if one scheme of happiness fails, human nature turns to another; if the first calculation is wrong, we make a second better: we find comfort somewhere."  - Jane Austen

I set a goal 5 months ago, at the end of April.  I signed up to run the Columbus Half Marathon.  At the time I could not run one mile without feeling like I was going to die, and every half marathon training plan I found started with 3 mile runs.  So, I took a step backward and found a C25K podcast.  I researched, planned and set a training schedule.  The plan was to work my way up to 3 miles and then, 15 weeks out from the half marathon, begin the training schedule for a half marathon. 

You should know that I hated running.  And, when I say hated I mean HATED.  Ick.

I did the C25K program and ran an awful 5K in June.  I felt like I was going to die.  I told my runner husband that "runners" are liars when they say, "Everyone who runs is a runner, no matter how fast or slow you run."  I adamantly bucked against that statement and told him in no uncertain terms, "I am NOT a runner.  I don't enjoy it.  In fact, I hate running when I feel like I am out of breath and going to die.  HATE, HATE, HATE it.  I do it because I know it is an inexpensive form of exercise and it will get me to my ultimate goal... to lose weight and be active." (No drama here. Nope.)

Despite the awful 5K I pushed forward towards my goal to run the half marathon - mainly because I had already signed up for it and paid the entry fee. 

At the beginning of July I moved from the C25K plan to the half marathon training plan.  I made the decision that I would run/walk the half marathon, and set up my plan accordingly.  Day One: I laced up my shoes, put on my iPod and walked out my door.  For the first few weeks I was only going through the motions... running as long/far as the plan told me but not really happy about it.  I would fit in my runs whenever I could.  I had my hubby drop me off at church meetings in my running clothes which meant I had no car and no phone to call for a ride.  The only way home was to run home.  I suppose I could have asked for a ride, but that seemed lame when I was in my running gear and had my iPod with me. 

Then I had what I consider to be my first major "holy crap, I just did that?" accomplishment. We were on vacation and I ran 5 miles.  FIVE MILES.  It felt so good.  I honestly can't explain the deep sense of accomplishment I felt.  I was proud of myself for overcoming my fears and mental blocks and doing it.  I knew I had pushed my body farther than I ever had before, and on top of that I had survived and didn't feel like I was going to die.  In fact, I felt great mentally and physically.

That's when "the change" happened. 

All of a sudden I was looking forward to my runs, especially my long runs on the weekends.  I didn't hate running.  I enjoyed the sense of accomplishment more than I hated the physical act of running.  I loved knowing that I was up before the sun and ran 6, 7, 8, 9 miles before most people were even out of bed or had their first cup of coffee.  I even ran a few of those long early morning runs WITHOUT my iPod. **Gasp**  It was just me, the road, my thoughts and the sunrise.

My longest run was 10.4 miles.  It felt good.  Really good.  When I stopped running right in front of my house, it became obvious that I was dehydrated and my muscles hated me.  They really wanted to cramp up and I really didn't want them to.  I heaved my run-heavy legs up our stairs and barely got out of my mouth, "Get me a water bottle." I walked back outside and stomped my run-heavy legs down the stairs and started walking.  Surely that would help.  Then I started crying.  And I noticed that my hubby was quickly walking to catch up with me.  "Are you okay?"  No I wasn't okay, my legs felt like they were going to give out on me at any moment.  I had never experienced anything like that in my life.  Luckily, my runner husband had experienced it before and was by my side the whole time walking me through what to do next and how to fix my mid-run nutrition and water intake for next week's long run. 

Four hours went by and all of a sudden it hurt to walk.  Every step I took was painful - Aleve, Tylenol, Aleve & Tylenol... nothing would help.  I cried again knowing I had injured something and knowing that my hopes to complete a half marathon might be dashed.  "You either have a stress fracture or a deep bone bruise" are words I didn't want to hear coming out of a doctor's mouth.

I'm not going to lie.  I held a pity party for myself that included lots of unhealthy foods and chocolate and included NO exercise.  For three to four days.  Then, my foot stopped hurting every time I took a step and a friend told me about a swimming class for adults that would keep my cardio up, and that same friend brought over a road bike she wasn't using.  Because my foot wasn't hurting anymore I had hope that if I kept my cardio up I would be able to adjust my training plan and run the half marathon after all. 

So I swam.  Then I ran/walked a mile and half to my swimming class and swam again.  My foot didn't hurt after that short run, so I ran for 45 minutes a few days later.  My foot didn't hurt after that either.  (Yes!)  I swam again the next day.

And then I got confirmation that I have a stress fracture, but also confirmation that it is starting to heal.

That brings me to today where I sit between the hope of completing a goal I set to accomplish 5 months ago and the disappointment of knowing that I may not be able to accomplish it due to injury.  I sit with questions about how far to push myself and my foot.  Do I run 6 miles this weekend as I was planning to do with my altered training plan? Or do I stay off of my foot? Though it really only hurts if I wear the wrong shoes that hit me in just the right spot.

I don't have the answers to those questions.  I may run tomorrow, I may not.  Although, I'm leaning at this moment towards not.

You see, nine months ago I made a promise to myself and let you all in on that promise.  I promised that I would focus on discipline this year.  The journey has been an uphill battle that most every person who has ever struggled with being disciplined in regards to their health can understand.  It has been a mental challenge even more than a physical challenge.  What I thought was all about counting calories and exercising was revealed to actually be about accepting myself, loving myself, forgiving myself and sorting through my personal issues tied to overeating and not exercising. 

What I am starting to realize is that training for a half marathon has been a means to an ultimate end, and that end may or may not include running/walking across a half marathon finish line on October 20th.  That fact is to be determined.  What I do know is that paying that not so little entry fee was motivation to push myself towards accomplishing something bigger than my mind thought my body could ever manage. 

I may or may not be able to complete the race I planned to finish. The road may be curving away from my original fitness goal. But I am now a runner. It really doesn't matter how fast I run, but I am a runner. That Saturday morning a few weeks ago when I ran 10.4 miles and I could hardly walk when I was done also offered me a sense of pride and accomplishment that runs deeper than any other exercise accomplishment I've ever experienced.  And the biggest accomplishment is that I have realized that I am capable of more than I ever thought possible.