Runner, Runner

Seventy-five degrees, a nice breeze, blue skies. Here in southwest Florida that’s a perfect beach day, especially after a couple of weeks worth of rain. So, what was I doing at 6:45 this morning instead of prepping for some fun in the sun or a nice relaxing day?

I was slipping into my compression pants and lacing up my asics, because it’s race day, people.

When I first started this blog I talked about how I was training for a 5K and how much I hated running. Like, I hated it. I mean, a lot.

It’s been a long few months since I started the actually training, which really just consisted of running. I didn’t throw in any weights or core training because, let’s be real here, running is enough for me. (Remember that blog about no time? Yeah.)

I used the Couch to 5K app to train because it tells you when to run and how long to run. It’s a great app to help build endurance, which I did. It had been many, many years since I’d even though about running (junior year of high school, to be exact), so this was a big step for me. The app even posts your workouts to Facebook, which is how I got involved in the first place.

I don’t know which one of them started it, but before I knew it Lisa, Michelle, and I were signed up for our first 5K (Run or Dye, November 16^th) and in full training. Thanks to the posts on Facebook we were able to keep up with each other. You know, since it was summer and we’re teachers and yay, no school. That just means we weren’t able to see each other face to face to keep each other accountable.

Virtual training partners. It was awesome.

Me and my buddies Lisa and Michelle after our race. 

Well, we thought it was awesome; other people might have been incredibly annoyed. I don’t really care about them, though. It was like having my own little cheering section each time I put myself out there. I knew that I would post it after the workout and someone would be proud of me, someone would cheer me on, someone would motivate me. I also had my sister as a real-life training partner and someone to yell at me or for me to yell at. Which one of us needed the motivation depended on the day.

Motivation is key here, people.

It was so amazing to have your friends look out for you, even if they weren’t training, too. When school started and people started asking how it was going, I was even more motivated.

The truth is…I like running.

After my horrifying time with cross country, I never thought I’d say that.

Running is awesome. You can let your mind go, and it’s just you, your feet, and the road. If you get a good song (personally I love running to Mumford & Sons) and a good pace, that is the best feeling in the world. When I managed to run thirty minutes for the first time I almost cried. And, while three miles might not seem like that much to someone else, when you’ve worked your butt off for four months, that three miles is your Mt. Everest.

Today, I climbed my Everest. Today, I completed my first 5K.

That's me on top of the bridge. Cool, yeah? 

See, after I started the training a friend of mine noticed and mentioned the Pink Heals (Pinktoberfest) run/walk for cancer. Well, how can you pass that up?

So, my training buddies, virtual and real-life, (and a good friend) signed up.

And we rocked it, y’all.

We had a great time, ran for a good cause, and are already geared up for next time.

Personally, I can’t wait. 

My real-life running buddy and sister. 

A More Beautiful You

I’ve been thinking a lot about body image lately. Not just my own, but others, too. Okay, I’m not just sitting around thinking about your bodies: I’m more thinking along the lines of how others see themselves.

For instance:

How do you feel when you look in the mirror?

What do you think when you try on pants? What if they’re too tight?

Can you run that mile? Are you out of breath jogging to your car in the rain?

Sorry, this isn’t a post to make you feel bad about yourself, I promise!

Actually, my point is how people view themselves differently and what they do differently to fix the things they don’t like.

Oh, and why.

Here’s a question I get sometimes:

Why did you do Weight Watchers?

You know that kind of question where people raise their eyebrows and look you up and down which is supposed to be appraising you but it’s totally making you feel uncomfortable?

I get that sometimes.

Here’s why I did Weight Watchers (or WW, okay?):

I didn’t like myself.

Shocker, right? Sometimes I seem like I’ve got my shit together but in reality, underneath this sarcastic candy shell I’m a big ole’ cream puff with a lot of self esteem issues.

In case you haven’t noticed (if you know me, of course): I’M SHORT.

Yeah, I know guys.

 I. Know.

The tough thing about being short is that when you gain weight it doesn’t really have anywhere to go, so it’s more noticeable. So, for instance, if someone (me) gained THIRTY POUNDS over the course of a year or two, guess what?

People notice.

It only takes one question of: “When are you due?” to make you want to cry into a tub of ice cream and swear to never leave the house again until you fit into those jeans in the bottom of your drawer. (Still hasn’t happened.)

But I digress. This is supposed to be uplifting.

It was almost five years before I actually did something proactive about the weight that I’d gained. By “proactive” I mean “healthy”. I’d used diet pills and lost a good ten or so pounds but nothing more, and found it hard to keep off. It’s tough when you are using something like that and not really changing the way you eat or exercise.

So.

That’s how WW came into play.

I can honestly say it’s the best decision I’ve ever made. When you shed those first two pounds? Man, it feels good. Hit your five pound goal? WOW. Ten? Make your goal? Make lifetime?

It’s amazing. It’s amazing because you’re accountable and you’re healthy and people celebrate you! I was fortunate enough to do the program with friends at work, but when I ventured out to become a lifetime member I got to interact with new people.

The thing is: no one at WW cares that you only lost ____lbs. Even that guy who was almost at one hundred pounds lost thinks you’re awesome!

And you know what? When they feel good for you, you feel good for you.

Isn’t that what we want? To feel good? (Yes.)

I was having a conversation earlier about how those insecurities we feel from high school don’t always go away. I always felt chubby growing up, just because I was smaller. Maybe I wasn’t chubby, but it was always there in the back of my mind that I wasn’t perfect.

Those girls are skinny.

Those girls are tall.

Those girls are pretty.

It doesn’t go away.

Part of me thinks that’s okay, though. The fact that you have those insecurities make you want to better yourself. They make you want to eat healthier or workout more or train for a damn 5K even though running is the absolute bane of your existence.

What I’ve learned in the past two years since changing my lifestyle is that you don’t have to be perfect.

Now, what I mean by that is:  not to be perfect by other people’s standards.

I don’t really care what other people think, to be quite honest: I do this for me.

I’m the one who wants to fit into my pants.

I’m the one who needs to feel confident at the beach.

I’m the one that wants to run those miles and do it with a big smile on my face because I can.

Of course, I’m a firm believer that it’s what’s on the inside that counts. Really. All this talking about eating healthy and working out makes me sound like a total Mean Girl. And yeah, maybe I am one of those, but you know who gets the brunt of my Mean Girl attitude?

Me.

I do!

I am my biggest fan and my own worst enemy at the same time. It’s tough, too. It’s tough because people will tell you they are proud of you, or that you look great, or even that “you look like yourself again”, but does it matter? Does it really matter what they think? (Okay, a little.) But for the most part? No. It doesn’t matter what they think because in the back of your head you know you can always do better. You can always look better, feel better, and push yourself harder.

So, that’s scary. It’s scary because you’ll never be satisfied. Never be happy with yourself. You’ll always find a blemish or stretch mark or some cellulite, but that’s okay!

This is me telling myself that it’s okay, if you want to listen, too. J

It’s okay because, again, we aren’t meant to be perfect. We are imperfect creatures and it’s beautiful! Besides, what’s perfect for me might not be perfect for someone else. I’m okay with a little bit of fluff and a slightly perkier ass thanks to six weeks of 5K training. I’m okay with the “skinny-fat” my best friend and I have dubbed ourselves.

 Is there room for improvement? Sure.

Am I going to keep trying? Absolutely.

Do I try my damnedest every day to be a good person on the inside because that’s what should matter?

Well, that one’s always up for argument.

 

Also, here's a little song to make you feel good: