47:12.
That's my "official" time from the treadmill. Boy am I slow. I've realized that my legs can keep going, but right now my training is about my lungs catching up to the rest of my body. I can deal with that. My fastest 5K time was ten minutes faster, so that's my first goal. Then my second goal is to beat that! I have months upon months to get faster, I'm not too worried. You want to know a secret? My ultimate goal would be to run a 10-minute mile, and then to run a 5K in under 30 minutes! Shhhh. Don't tell. That piece of information could scare my muscles away.
So on goes my 10 5K's in 2011. So far this is a good plan for me. A plan that allows me to keep training and to have a goal to focus on. I've learned that without a goal I flounder. I won't work out and I don't eat as well as I should. I need a goal, and just a goal weight doesn't do it for me since I really don't know what a good goal weight for me would be. The BMI tells me 144. With my build, that's not quite likely, for all I know 160 is the perfect weight for me. I want to measure my fitness in other ways and I want to succeed as a runner.
Achievements:
I ran for 25 minutes without stopping. WOOT! It's weeks before I do that in my C25K plan, so right now I'm ahead of the game and I can concentrate on building up my lungs and then getting faster on said plan.
I finished my race going faster than starting. I jogged at 4.0 mph, which is a little slow. I'm more comfortable right now at 4.5 mph but I wanted to pace myself because I haven't run this distance in quite some time (as in, run as much of it as I possibly could, not walk/run). But I actually finished the last couple tenths of my run at 5.0 mph. Gotta get that kick in!
I would deem my race a complete success. I finished, which is my first goal in ANY race. And I can see myself getting better. When the pound aren't dropping like I want them to be, it always helps to look for other motivation. This is definitely a motivator!
Monday, January 31, 2011
Friday, January 28, 2011
Fake it 'til you make it
The team I'm on for my weight-loss challenge says this. It's for days (weeks) you lose motivation and Little Debbie snack cakes make you believe that the world will be a better place if you eat them. It's when your treadmill starts talking to you, telling you how hard on it you've been and how mean you are to keep walking/running on it every day. It's for when you can't think about doing another pushup or another plank without throwing up in your mouth a little.
It's for when you're starting this for the first (seventh) time and you're scared. Scared you'll fail, scared you won't be able to do it, and at the same time scared you'll succeed and then what will you do if you're not the fat person? Who will you be?
This is when you fake it. This is when you do an extra set of push-ups just to say you can, put more miles on your treadmill, throw the snack cakes in the trash and you start putting more vegetables on your plate and fewer chips. You don't have to be happy about it, you don't have to like it, but you still do it. This is when you take that first step onto the gazelle or elliptical or out the door. You do it.
It is not a choice. You do not have a choice to not work out, to not become healthier. You fake this healthier lifestyle until it's a part of you and you don't know what you would do without it. You fake it until that snack cake tastes like wax and not like clouds and sunshine. You fake it until you find yourself reaching for a strawberry over a ho-ho because it makes you feel so much better than the processed sugar ever will. You fake it because the exercise makes you a happier and well-balanced person and not going on the run causes you more sadness than stepping out the door that first time, scared out of your mind, ever did.
You fake it because you know the person who you see in the mirror is not who you're meant to be. You are not made up of fat and fat alone, you're brilliant and wonderful and you want to world to see on the outside what you've always seen on the inside. That you believe in yourself, that you love yourself and that you respect yourself. If you're 300 lbs. or 125 lbs., you are that person. You are such an amazing person and you deserve this. You deserve the life you want, the happiness you reach for and the love that surrounds you.
Fake it. Fake it 'til you make it. Until it makes you so happy that you could burst. Until health oozes from you and onto the people around you and suddenly they change their lives because they can't help themselves. Oh yes. Fake it.
It's for when you're starting this for the first (seventh) time and you're scared. Scared you'll fail, scared you won't be able to do it, and at the same time scared you'll succeed and then what will you do if you're not the fat person? Who will you be?
This is when you fake it. This is when you do an extra set of push-ups just to say you can, put more miles on your treadmill, throw the snack cakes in the trash and you start putting more vegetables on your plate and fewer chips. You don't have to be happy about it, you don't have to like it, but you still do it. This is when you take that first step onto the gazelle or elliptical or out the door. You do it.
It is not a choice. You do not have a choice to not work out, to not become healthier. You fake this healthier lifestyle until it's a part of you and you don't know what you would do without it. You fake it until that snack cake tastes like wax and not like clouds and sunshine. You fake it until you find yourself reaching for a strawberry over a ho-ho because it makes you feel so much better than the processed sugar ever will. You fake it because the exercise makes you a happier and well-balanced person and not going on the run causes you more sadness than stepping out the door that first time, scared out of your mind, ever did.
You fake it because you know the person who you see in the mirror is not who you're meant to be. You are not made up of fat and fat alone, you're brilliant and wonderful and you want to world to see on the outside what you've always seen on the inside. That you believe in yourself, that you love yourself and that you respect yourself. If you're 300 lbs. or 125 lbs., you are that person. You are such an amazing person and you deserve this. You deserve the life you want, the happiness you reach for and the love that surrounds you.
Fake it. Fake it 'til you make it. Until it makes you so happy that you could burst. Until health oozes from you and onto the people around you and suddenly they change their lives because they can't help themselves. Oh yes. Fake it.
Monday, January 17, 2011
He's supposed to
Before I get started with my rant, let me fill you in on my morning. It has been a morning, that's for sure. It's snowing in good 'ol Iowa today, and I did not know it was supposed to. Bad me. Anyway, going to work and ran out of gas. Who runs out of gas anymore? Me. Luckily I have a loving SO who was not too displeased to be woken up a half hour early and was willing to come and bring gas out to me, oh, and a spare set of keys since when I got out of the car to make sure my hazards were on (they weren't) I also locked my keys in my car. Lmao! I had just passed a gas station, ironic, right? and I went there to wait. Lickity-split he's there and I'm gassed up and made it to work only a half hour late. Wowza :D So part of my exercise today will be shoveling, but until then I'm enjoying the warmth of being inside with dry shoes.
So, because of the amazingness of the SO, I want to make him something super special for supper. We'll call this the Super Special Supper, or SSS. I asked my coworker what she thought I should make for the SSS. Her response? "He's your significant other. He's supposed to do things like that." Basically saying I shouldn't plan anything special because he's supposed to help me out when things like that happen.
In a way, I agree. That is part of what being in a relationship is. You do things for the person you love. You go out of your way to make sure they're safe, that their needs are met and that is part of the way you fill eachother's lives. I completely agree.
What I don't agree with is the fact that she was saying I should dismiss his actions because he's "supposed" to do them. Just because I love this man and he loves me doesn't mean that I shouldn't say "Thank you" (which, by the way, I did, about five times :D) But still, he went out of his way to be kind to me and I want to cook him supper. I want to show him that I appreciate what he did. I want to show him that, while his time and energy could have been put to better uses, like getting that extra half hour of sleep, I am glad he chose to come and help me.
It's just a gripe of mine, and I know I don't do it as often as I should, but I think the people we care about the most definitely deserve the majority of our love and attention. Just because we see each other for a good part of the day every day doesn't mean I shouldn't tell him how much I appreciate it when he does the dishes, snowblows the driveway, does my laundry, picks up the house or comes and bails me out of a sticky situation at 6 a.m. on a Monday morning.
Sometimes (rarely) he fishes for praise and I don't give it to him, even though I should. How much more do I appreciate it when he does something like today (and countless other times) and saves my bacon? He does so much for me, more than he probably even realizes. I can cook the man a SSS to say thank you. I love you. I love it when you rescue me. Now, for ideas?
So, because of the amazingness of the SO, I want to make him something super special for supper. We'll call this the Super Special Supper, or SSS. I asked my coworker what she thought I should make for the SSS. Her response? "He's your significant other. He's supposed to do things like that." Basically saying I shouldn't plan anything special because he's supposed to help me out when things like that happen.
In a way, I agree. That is part of what being in a relationship is. You do things for the person you love. You go out of your way to make sure they're safe, that their needs are met and that is part of the way you fill eachother's lives. I completely agree.
What I don't agree with is the fact that she was saying I should dismiss his actions because he's "supposed" to do them. Just because I love this man and he loves me doesn't mean that I shouldn't say "Thank you" (which, by the way, I did, about five times :D) But still, he went out of his way to be kind to me and I want to cook him supper. I want to show him that I appreciate what he did. I want to show him that, while his time and energy could have been put to better uses, like getting that extra half hour of sleep, I am glad he chose to come and help me.
It's just a gripe of mine, and I know I don't do it as often as I should, but I think the people we care about the most definitely deserve the majority of our love and attention. Just because we see each other for a good part of the day every day doesn't mean I shouldn't tell him how much I appreciate it when he does the dishes, snowblows the driveway, does my laundry, picks up the house or comes and bails me out of a sticky situation at 6 a.m. on a Monday morning.
Sometimes (rarely) he fishes for praise and I don't give it to him, even though I should. How much more do I appreciate it when he does something like today (and countless other times) and saves my bacon? He does so much for me, more than he probably even realizes. I can cook the man a SSS to say thank you. I love you. I love it when you rescue me. Now, for ideas?
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Apples to Oranges
Sometimes I forget that this weight-loss journey is about me. It's not about my friends or my family, although they help and encourage me every day. It's not about who's doing more or losing more weight than I am. It's not about anyone else but me.
Today I forgot that when I read a post by a friend who is doing incredible things in her life. She is running. She is running and she is doing fabulous and I felt a twinge of jealousy because she's faster than me.
I've been running off and on for a while and I am still SO slow. I know I'm slow, I know I'm not ready to train to get that much faster yet. So I will keep running. I'm not going to stop. This is my journey and I alone can race down my road. But I want to be faster.
I am so happy for my friend. Happy that she made the decision to do this and is getting so good! I'm happy that she's proud of what she's doing and the accomplishments that she's made. I'm happy that she is my friend and I am proud of her and all that she's done. But we are different people with different backgrounds and goals and skills. Her path is not my path, nor is mine hers.
So today I had to take a step back and remind myself that the only competition I face is myself. I want to run faster than I have run before. I want to run farther than I ever have. I want so much for myself that sometimes it hurts because I'm scared I won't accomplish all of these things. That make me even more scared because what if I refuse to try? That is so much sadder, so much scarier than trying and failing. To not try, to not see what I'm capable of, just the thought of it brings tears to my eyes.
And I will try. I will race my races this year. I will train and grin through the good times and the bad. I will get faster, how can I not? :D And then I will keep going. Keep training. Because the thought of the wind in my hair and the pavement under my feet is enough to keep me going on any day. I do this for me.
Today I forgot that when I read a post by a friend who is doing incredible things in her life. She is running. She is running and she is doing fabulous and I felt a twinge of jealousy because she's faster than me.
I've been running off and on for a while and I am still SO slow. I know I'm slow, I know I'm not ready to train to get that much faster yet. So I will keep running. I'm not going to stop. This is my journey and I alone can race down my road. But I want to be faster.
I am so happy for my friend. Happy that she made the decision to do this and is getting so good! I'm happy that she's proud of what she's doing and the accomplishments that she's made. I'm happy that she is my friend and I am proud of her and all that she's done. But we are different people with different backgrounds and goals and skills. Her path is not my path, nor is mine hers.
So today I had to take a step back and remind myself that the only competition I face is myself. I want to run faster than I have run before. I want to run farther than I ever have. I want so much for myself that sometimes it hurts because I'm scared I won't accomplish all of these things. That make me even more scared because what if I refuse to try? That is so much sadder, so much scarier than trying and failing. To not try, to not see what I'm capable of, just the thought of it brings tears to my eyes.
And I will try. I will race my races this year. I will train and grin through the good times and the bad. I will get faster, how can I not? :D And then I will keep going. Keep training. Because the thought of the wind in my hair and the pavement under my feet is enough to keep me going on any day. I do this for me.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Working it
I hurt all over. I love it. No I'm not a masochist, but I am reveling in what my body can do. I pushed it hard this weekend, especially after letting it revel in the cold weather blues following Thanksgiving.
I push the weights up and think about how they used to be 3 lbs and now they're 5 or 8. I run on the treadmill and push myself harder because I'm running, not walking all the time. Yes I get tired. Yes I take walk breaks. The point is I'm not afraid to push myself and get better. I'm not afraid of what I can do.
I want this weight gone. I want to be at a healthy weight and love it. I can do so much more at 180 than I could at 205, and I'm excited for what awaits me at 150. I know that healthy eating will be a part of my life forever. That's what I want.
I want to take pleasure in the nutrients I receive from an apple rather than a Ding Dong. The taste of carrots with a bit of hummus is always more satisfying to me than a snickers. Dark chocolate, you are still my friend and I love that we can hang out together, but I also love that you don't rule my life.
I'm working it. When I feel my abs stretch I know I'm working it. When I notice the slight pull in my calves and hamstrings, I take pride in the fact that I'm working it. I'm working it for me. For my future.
I push the weights up and think about how they used to be 3 lbs and now they're 5 or 8. I run on the treadmill and push myself harder because I'm running, not walking all the time. Yes I get tired. Yes I take walk breaks. The point is I'm not afraid to push myself and get better. I'm not afraid of what I can do.
I want this weight gone. I want to be at a healthy weight and love it. I can do so much more at 180 than I could at 205, and I'm excited for what awaits me at 150. I know that healthy eating will be a part of my life forever. That's what I want.
I want to take pleasure in the nutrients I receive from an apple rather than a Ding Dong. The taste of carrots with a bit of hummus is always more satisfying to me than a snickers. Dark chocolate, you are still my friend and I love that we can hang out together, but I also love that you don't rule my life.
I'm working it. When I feel my abs stretch I know I'm working it. When I notice the slight pull in my calves and hamstrings, I take pride in the fact that I'm working it. I'm working it for me. For my future.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Darn cat
I'm tired. Eyes drooping, fingers stiff and unyielding, ready to drink a pot of coffee tired. This is not great when my job, every day, is to sit in a room lit by fluorescent lights (no natural light) and look at a computer screen for, oh, I don't know, eight hours? This does not lend itself to me becoming more and more awake.
It's the cat. Every morning - yesterday it was 2:30 a.m., today it was 3:20 a.m. - she feels the need to wake up, meow loudly, and make noise until I grab her. I've tried throwing her out of the room, I've tried cuddling her, I've tried shoving her under the covers where it's warm and hoping that puts her to sleep, I've tried putting food in her already-full bowl, thinking she needs the sound of the kernels against the metal dish to get her salivating like Pavlov's dog. Oy. If I lock her out to the room she'll paw at the door. That's not so conducive to a good nights' sleep.
Today at 3:20 I just got up, same yesterday. Got up, got ready, went to work. I'm lucky enough that I can go in early. I start at 5 a.m. on a normal day anyway, which is why it's so hard to go back to sleep sometimes after el gato has made the noise she deems appropriate. It's almost time for me to wake up anyway, so then I just either lay in bed and wait for my alarm to go off, which I do sometimes and then I doze, or get up and go.
She's cuddly, she's cute, but my lack of sleep means I'm hungrier throughout the day. It's like my body needs more food to keep going because it's not getting ample rest at night, and then I definitely don't have the energy to work out. I had a run planned for yesterday. I took a four-hour sleep instead. In total that means yesterday I got eight hours of sleep! But then, wretched cycle, I wasn't tired last night at nine, so I went to bed at 11:30 p.m. and then woke up at 3:30 a.m. I'm trying for a walk today no matter what. I may not have the energy to run, but I can still walk my butt off.
So that darn cat. Any ideas on what to do to either make her quiet, or make me tired earlier? Throw 'em at me!
It's the cat. Every morning - yesterday it was 2:30 a.m., today it was 3:20 a.m. - she feels the need to wake up, meow loudly, and make noise until I grab her. I've tried throwing her out of the room, I've tried cuddling her, I've tried shoving her under the covers where it's warm and hoping that puts her to sleep, I've tried putting food in her already-full bowl, thinking she needs the sound of the kernels against the metal dish to get her salivating like Pavlov's dog. Oy. If I lock her out to the room she'll paw at the door. That's not so conducive to a good nights' sleep.
Today at 3:20 I just got up, same yesterday. Got up, got ready, went to work. I'm lucky enough that I can go in early. I start at 5 a.m. on a normal day anyway, which is why it's so hard to go back to sleep sometimes after el gato has made the noise she deems appropriate. It's almost time for me to wake up anyway, so then I just either lay in bed and wait for my alarm to go off, which I do sometimes and then I doze, or get up and go.
She's cuddly, she's cute, but my lack of sleep means I'm hungrier throughout the day. It's like my body needs more food to keep going because it's not getting ample rest at night, and then I definitely don't have the energy to work out. I had a run planned for yesterday. I took a four-hour sleep instead. In total that means yesterday I got eight hours of sleep! But then, wretched cycle, I wasn't tired last night at nine, so I went to bed at 11:30 p.m. and then woke up at 3:30 a.m. I'm trying for a walk today no matter what. I may not have the energy to run, but I can still walk my butt off.
So that darn cat. Any ideas on what to do to either make her quiet, or make me tired earlier? Throw 'em at me!
Monday, December 20, 2010
Where I'm going
I focus a lot on the weight I lost. I focus on the things I have accomplished. I focus on what has been, how far I've come. Sometimes I think I need to stop looking behind me and start looking at what is in store for my life. I'm making a plan, goals, things to achieve. Whatever you want to call it, I'm making it.
I have come far. To recap: I've lost over thirty pounds. I still have more than thirty left to go (forty, actually). I can run. My dream was to run and I'm doing it. While I let some muscles waste away this summer due to a bout of laziness (I swear it's catchy) I'm back on track. Running at least half of my time on the treadmill, hopefully in a few weeks I'll be back up to almost the whole time! I've lost inches. I've lost gobs of fat. I feel better. Every day when I exercise I feel happier. Cardio has this amazing way of lightening my mood, making my face contort into this weird, euphoric smile. I can't help it.
Now, where I'm going. I'm GOING to run 10 5Ks this year. I've been getting my body back on the running track since October, so that will be one year of working toward this goal. By then end of March I aim to have run two 5Ks on my treadmill with times and water stations all mapped out (it's cold in Iowa and I am NOT prepared to run outside right now!) and hopefully, weather willing, my first road 5k of the year in March. Anyone know a good one in Iowa? My ears are open. After this year (and hopefully those pesky forty pounds) a half marathon is my dream. I want it, and I'm scared of it. I'm thinking a running coach may be on the horizon, if affordable, because I've never trained for something like this, and 13.1 miles is a little more daunting than a 5k.
I can't wait until I look back on this next year and thing of the races, think of my goals, and am happy looking backward at where I've been and all I've done. Two years ago I would not have believed that running - or any form of exercise for that matter - would make me this happy. Two years ago I was falling into despair, into sadness over my life and what I had not done with it. A year from now I want to be at goal, ready to smile and look at how strong I found myself to be.
I have come far. To recap: I've lost over thirty pounds. I still have more than thirty left to go (forty, actually). I can run. My dream was to run and I'm doing it. While I let some muscles waste away this summer due to a bout of laziness (I swear it's catchy) I'm back on track. Running at least half of my time on the treadmill, hopefully in a few weeks I'll be back up to almost the whole time! I've lost inches. I've lost gobs of fat. I feel better. Every day when I exercise I feel happier. Cardio has this amazing way of lightening my mood, making my face contort into this weird, euphoric smile. I can't help it.
Now, where I'm going. I'm GOING to run 10 5Ks this year. I've been getting my body back on the running track since October, so that will be one year of working toward this goal. By then end of March I aim to have run two 5Ks on my treadmill with times and water stations all mapped out (it's cold in Iowa and I am NOT prepared to run outside right now!) and hopefully, weather willing, my first road 5k of the year in March. Anyone know a good one in Iowa? My ears are open. After this year (and hopefully those pesky forty pounds) a half marathon is my dream. I want it, and I'm scared of it. I'm thinking a running coach may be on the horizon, if affordable, because I've never trained for something like this, and 13.1 miles is a little more daunting than a 5k.
I can't wait until I look back on this next year and thing of the races, think of my goals, and am happy looking backward at where I've been and all I've done. Two years ago I would not have believed that running - or any form of exercise for that matter - would make me this happy. Two years ago I was falling into despair, into sadness over my life and what I had not done with it. A year from now I want to be at goal, ready to smile and look at how strong I found myself to be.
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