Tag Archive | disappointment

Irrational Fears/Irrational Eating

I started yesterday off feeling awesome about my plan and how things were going, despite showing a gain on the scale.  You see,I had cheated and gotten on the scale midweek and was down 5, so when my official weigh in day came I was not concerned at all that it showed an 8lb gain from Thursday til Sat.  I KNEW that there was no logical way I could have gained 8 lbs of real weight in 2 days. I was on LOCK on my plan so I merely laughed at the scale knowing it would likely show something different next week.

Healthy mindset, right?

I headed out for my day got myself a pedicure and cute knew  flip-flops as my reward for staying on plan for 8 solid weeks.  A reward not based on results, but based on my commitment to the program.

In all honesty, this program works for me. It has lots of structure and rules, which I like.  There is no  guess-work for me.  I don’t have to think about what I want for food, food in the last 8 weeks has been all about getting the right amount and kind of fuel that my body needs so that it can release the weight so that my body can learn that it will be fed all that it needs so it won’t hold on to my fat any longer.

Last night, as my day went on, I became increasingly anxious and I didn’t eat my planned carb meal.  I ate carbs for sure, but not the planned out calculated ones that were on the menu given to me by Leif.  But worse than eating off plan was that I did it all in secret.  This was the first time I have done this in a long time.

I slept awful last night, waking up frequently in a panic that something bad was about to happen and as I woke up this morning I realized what I was afraid of.

Being found out. Being a fraud…and that this plan, if I actually followed it would actually work.  Yes, I said I Am afraid this plan will work!

You see, it has been a while since I have seen the possibility of slipping back under 300 lbs.  It has been a while since I have gotten random compliments from people about how great I am looking.  And last night, while at the grocery store, a man followed me around trying to talk to me…hitting on me.   I should have known then what the motivation was to pick up a single serving bag of chips….but I didn’t.

I would like to think that my former sexual abuse that I have worked so hard to get past would no longer hold me.  But folks, I am realizing that as I work a plan that really REALLY has a chance of working that I am terrified. I don’t know how to respond to men who find me attractive. I don’t know, really KNOW, that I will be safe being an attractive and fit female.  I don’t know what I will look like or how I will feel. I don’t know how to respond to all the compliments I am getting.  It is both exciting and terrifying.  I want it and I don’t want it at the same time.

I just know that while I have hope (that I cling to) that this could work and that I could look like that girl Lori I talked about in my last post, sometimes I am still driven by my old fears that brought the weight on me as a child.  Fears to self protect at all costs…even when there is no real danger present.

I know which of those feelings I want to win.  So I must be more diligent in watching what I am doing and analyzing my desires/behaviors more in the moment.

So this post is about the realization and about putting out there what I don’t want known about me, especially by Leif who works so diligently to create plans for me that will work or by Coach and Aaron who have walked with me so long on this journey.  Oh how I hate to disappoint people.  This post is about putting shame to rest and walking in freedom and moving forward.

Last night my meal consisted of:

1 small bag of chips

a serving of mom’s pasta dish she made with a steak/gravy

a diet soda

a mini Milky Way

When Hope Happens

A couple of weeks ago, I had all the kiddos over for the night.  In fact, it was the same night that the previous post came out of.  While getting ready for work on a Friday morning, I had just weighed in and discovered a 3lb loss.  Can you believe I was mildly bummed?  I thought to myself, “Kim, since when is a 3lb loss a small loss to you?”

Oh, I know.  When Leif showed me that my body wasn’t broken and actually had the potential to lose 8 lbs in one week!!

I have worked really hard to not have any expectations for this process.  I have tried really hard to stay detached from it and to simply follow the plan and let Leif worry about everything else.  4 Years of disappointment with my body has taught me to not have any long term expectations of losses. At the same time, I have tried to not get super excited on the good weeks either.  If history repeats itself, it won’t last right?

We are on week 7 now and the 2 weeks following that amazing 3 lb loss I gained 1 and lost 1.  It is difficult to to not go to the dark place that perhaps my wacky thoughts are true.  It is difficult to NOT drown in disappointment.  It is a daily fight to remain neutral on either of these spectrums of emotion.  The spectrum that ranges from hope….to disappointment.  It is difficult to NOT write scathing emails to Leif reminding him that I told him so, that my body was F’d up!

I keep reminding myself, sometimes daily and sometimes moment by moment, that I promised him and myself 20 weeks to let him do his thing.  20 weeks to figure out my body.  20 weeks to do something that no one else has been able to do.  For 20 weeks, I would simply follow the plan and let him worry about changes.

Here is the dilemma.

  •  I am a control freak.  This works for me and against me in Leif’s plans.  His plans  are very calculated and controlled.  Every bite is measured and weighed.  This works for my need for control.  However, they are HIS plans and I have no control over them.  I cannot change them.  I have to trust this man whom I have never even spoken verbally to, to come up with plans for my body that will hopefully yield results.
  • Hope happened.  I didn’t want to hope in this process.  Like I said, I have worked really hard to be neutral about it all.   I know hope happened though because I have felt a lot of disappointment, especially these last couple of weeks and I know you can’t know disappointment without first knowing hope.   Hope feels good, but man disappointment, well, it hurts.  And once you know it, you can’t un-know it!

So, now I have hope.  Leif keeps changing things each week.  Sometimes they are big changes and sometimes they are small ones.  Sometimes they are nutritional only changes and sometimes they are workout related changes.  I am learning that although I can’t count on my body to do what I hope for or even expect (especially when I am near perfect in following the plan) I can count on an email before I go to bed on weigh in day of what I need to change for the next week.  I can count on Leif analyzing my results and figuring out a course of action.

So, for now, I will work to trust that…and I will work to remember the words of my niece that Friday morning as I got ready for work.  “Auntie, I think you shrunk!”  I will also work to remember that in 6 weeks I am down 18 lbs.  The 7 year old just might be seeing some truth that I don’t see yet.  Perhaps I should listen to the wisdom of a child.

Helpful Words

This year I decided for fun I would join the Biggest Loser contest at work.  This required bi-weekly weigh ins, of which I have had 2 so far.

I have already quit the contest.

The scale is not my friend.  It has not been for the last 3 years and I don’t know why I thought we could repair our relationship in 2012 and become friends again, but for 6 weeks I thought we could.

Last week I showed a gain of 10lbs!

Yes 10 lbs!

I ate salads and followed my program strictly(except for Sundays, which I typically take off and enjoy meals out with friends after church)

Logically, I know this is likely a water retention thing but no amount of brain logic could counter the onslaught of devastating emotion that filled my soul.

I cried at work all day Wednesday and after 2 comments on a FB post about it, I took the post down, knowing I would kill people in all their intended kindness and support.

Thursday I awoke angry and went to the gym to work off some frustration.  I walked out of my workout after 1 round of the assigned workout. I got into a yelling match with a friend in the parking lot who was trying to be a good friend and then…when I went back to finish my workout (because I couldn’t REALLY quit) I got called into the office by the trainer, whom I also yelled at and cried in front of.  It was a bad, bad day…and it wasn’t even 10AM yet.

It was an awful…awful…awful day…and my friends tried so desperately to encourage me but it all sounded like clanging gongs in my ears.

Except for one.

My friend Alison, wrote this on my FB wall.  “I was thinking about you this morning, Kim and grieving this long hard journey. I’m praying for you.”

Tears of a different kind came spilling out of my eyes.

Finally!

No advice.

No excuses of water weight or muscle gain.

No questions of what I did or didn’t do (aka Blame).

No attempt to relate.

No expressions of understanding.

No comparisons.

No Hoo Rahs to keep going.

No intimations about how damn inspiring I am to be going so damn long at this.

Simply a recognition/acknowledgement that This. Is. Hard. and that she is doing the only thing that matters.  Praying.

Alison’s words were so dear to me, because while she does not share the same struggle, she is no stranger to grief and suffering and pain and struggle.  She has learned, the hard way, what is helpful and not helpful to hear in the midst of suffering.  You will have to read her blog for bits of her story though, I couldn’t begin to tell it like she can.

But I am grateful for this woman whose path I seldom cross but whose life I greatly admire…who knows how to simply BE with someone in their anguish.

Weary Again

Hi guys!  Yes I am still here.  I keep wanting to blog but I like to blog chronologically and I have all theses other posts that I want to write about but don’t seem to have time or motivation to write right now, so I have written nothing.  I am realizing that is so detrimental to me.  This blog is a lifeline for me in my processing of all of this stuff and so it is with a lot of intentionality(is that a word Coach?) that I write this post.  Maybe one day I will get back to those other posts and maybe not.  Regardless I will no let their pending status keep me from writing more.

SO I have been here.  Loving my workouts still.  Had a minor back injury that I got healed of (that I MUST write about soon)  It took me out for about a week but has been great ever since.   I have been struggling with the eating a bit with the holidays, but who doesn’t?  My body is doing what it does best with the numbers which is, it works and responds to the new program well for a couple of months then seems to stop changing or reversing.  SO Daniel and I are trying to figure it out.  He has proposed some ideas that I consider crazy and before I say yes or no, I am doing some serious research on them.  I no longer trust trainers blindly.  They may know a lot about fitness and nutrition, but only I have been dealing with the complexity of my body for as long as I have.  Unfortunately, every trainer has their own idea of what will work and what is healthy and they all seem to be completely opposite and in conflict with what I know or from the previous trainers ideas.  So as I research on my own, I tend to freeze up and become paralyzed with indecision.

This journey is long my friends.  I knew this going in that it would not be a quick fix and that nothing would happen overnight.  But this is far longer than I anticipated for this phase of this journey and I am in a place of weariness where it really is a fight to keep stepping forward right now.  Once again I am grasping to find the scripture that says that good things will come “if you do not grow weary”.

In the last 3 years, I have looked at the condition of my heart, I have sought counseling and group therapy, I have looked at diet and nutrition, I have done every kind of workout imaginable, I have auditioned for a tv show and I have brought my community along with me for the ride to help keep me awake when I start to fall asleep at the wheel (so to speak). I have looked at my past and the contribution that it has made to who I am and how I respond to the things life throws at me.  I have sought out my Dr and the possibility that there is a medical reason for all of this.

My family doesn’t know half of this stuff I have done to work on all of this, they only see the workouts and the nutrition.  It was rather difficult on Thanksgiving to have them all talking about me while I was sitting there and how I should be skinny by now.

I know.  I SHOULD be.  While I know they were trying to be encouraging and loving, it was quite difficult to have all of my own thoughts about what should be voiced by others in my presence without actually talking to me.

So what is next?  I am weary and heavy laden, not with the workouts, I love them, but just with the journey.  I am tired of thinking about it and trying to figure it out.  I am tired of getting my hopes up only to have progress slowly stop.

When I whine about all of this, please hear also that I do see strength gains and my clothes do fit different.  Most days those things get me excited and I am able to set aside the scale and measurements and recognize these things as equally important accomplishments.  Like I said, I am weary though and it is much more difficult to battle that fully when all your energy seems to go towards not crawling in a hole.

Tonight, I am going to meet with my pastor and a woman from my church to do some intensive prayer stuff about all of this.  I am not sure how to describe this or explain what it is or even what I hope to get out of it so I am just going to leave it at that and say, I am nervous and since it has gotten scheduled it seems that there has been all manner of discouragement going on.

Since scheduling it, I have felt the most intense feelings of loneliness and despair I have felt in a long time.  My car has a pending repair scheduled that is going to cost a butt load of money I don’t have yet (hence its pending status) and last night my windshield wipers stopped working in the middle of the highway while raining.  The simplicity of having to rely on new friends to take care of me and that situation just left me feeling incredibly raw and vulnerable.  Regardless of it being a holiday week, I feel like this week has been incredibly rough on the eating front.  I know it is nerves and anxiety and am working to control it and give myself some grace about it too. All of this stuff seems to be intensifying as my appointment time draws closer.  Honestly, I am afraid to get out of bed today.  Who knows what might go wrong today that I will have to deal with when I already feel incredibly fragile and oh not so strong at all.

With that said, I’ll be damned if I let the enemy win in this journey or in this day. He is coming after me with all of his biggest guns this week and he has certainly won some battles but he will. not. win. this. war.

So if you read this and are one who prays, my appointment is at 8 PM, but I need mercy today.  I need the pressure to release a bit.  or maybe I don’t.  Maybe the pressure is perfect heading into this.  I don’t know.  (yes I am aware I am talking in circles, that is what happens when I don’t have a plan for my writing and write for the purpose of processing).  So pray as you are led to pray today.

As for me, I am going to get out of bed and make it through another day.

The Proverbial Wagon

**DISCLAIMER: I have had a couple of drinks tonight and probably should NOT be writing, however, I have wanted to write about this for a while but have not. I have let other things stop me and in this moment I simply don’t care to let those things bother me, so write I will. I have not written about this because on the one hand I didn’t want Demond to know I was upset or struggling at all and because I don’t want to even appear to talk bad about someone I love dearly. But the truth is, blogging/writing helps me process. This blog started out for me as a place to process and I am not about to let the thought that he MIGHT read this interfere with what I do to process my life.

Short Story: Since just after Nashville, I am officially no longer training with Demond, although the reality is that the breakup probably occurred 2 weeks before Nashville 2011.

Long Story: I don’t even know how to write out this saga without getting really upset because the truth is, I am not completely sure what happened. I mean, I know the facts but none of it makes sense and I have spent the last few weeks sad and discouraged and trying to figure out what I did wrong and how I could fix it all. But the reality is, I don’t think I did anything wrong. I questioned my trainer and asked for clarification on some things. That is all. And somehow, that was the wrong thing to do.

I have gone from grieving the loss of not only another trainer, but someone I thought was a friend, someone who said we were family and that we work through things together. Someone who said they would be with me in my journey until the end…and now they are not…and I am no longer sad about this. I am pissed off.

I am angry that things happened the way they did. I am angry that he did not seem to want to try to work things out. I am angry that his last communication to me was to never speak to him again. I am angry that I put so much trust in one person. I am angry that I didn’t trust myself more along the way. But mostly I am angry that I have let this situation…derail me.

Picture the proverbial wagon. I am in the wagon, riding along…everything seems fine, then out of no where, I am told I am unfocused and that I am doing things that are counterproductive (running) to my goals.

In trying to understand what was meant by these statements all sorts of drama unfolded. I hung tight in my seat though on this wagon, through Nashville, because I WAS focused. I was focused on living a healthy lifestyle and LIVING an active life.

As I continued to ride though, I was forced to make a decision about whether I wanted to continue to train with Demond or not and I chose not to. I know it seems like a big jump to go from having questions to deciding to leave him but there is ALOT I am not saying…and the issue for me came down to trust. I no longer trusted him…and how can you work with someone on such an intimate struggle without that?

I still clung to that wagon, although I was now bouncing around in the back with no driver in the seat. I was in a runaway wagon that was no longer on a clear marked path…and I got bounced out. I went to my all time comfort of food to cope as I sat in the dust and licked my wounds and felt sorry for myself. I cried. I placed blame on myself and others. I ate. Uncontrollably. It has been YEARS since I have been this bad on this front.

And now, I am pissed off. While the choices I have made since getting bounced out of the wagon are absolutely mine to own, the stuff leading up to it, was not mine. I have carried it long enough.

It all ends here. I am standing up and chasing after that blasted wagon. I have an appointment scheduled with a potential new trainer next week. His words have brought hope to me as we have communicated by email so far.

And I am cautiously optimistic. There is a TON of questions to be answered before I sign on with any new trainer…but I am actively looking…and in the meantime…I start again on a good plan tomorrow morning of healthy eating and living. I know enough about exercise and nutrition to get started…again.

What is that up ahead in the distance? Is that MY wagon??

The Pain Ends, Lives Changed Is Forever…

A few months back, you may recall a post about being a part of a REAL RACE TEAM!!!  A brief recap, this team is running in various marathons and half marathons raising funds for a ministry that provides pastoral care for people in full-time ministry.  They do this by providing cost-free retreats for these people so they can rest, recharge, and hear God’s voice in fresh new ways…all so they can be more effective in the ministry they have been called to.

You may also recall that I had declared a personal goal of raising $1000.00 for this ministry by running the Nashville Half Marathon.  My life was changed as a volunteer at one of these retreats and I saw other lives changed and continue to hear about the work of those same missionaries and pastors that came for a time of rest and are now continuing to change lives.

I am quite pleased and thankful and a bit overwhelmed to be able to report that thanks to a whole bunch of really generous people, that goal has not only been reached, but it has been exceeded!!!!  My unofficial count is $1174.00 which will sponsor almost 4 people to attend a week-long retreat!

Thank You!!  Thank You!!  Thank You!!  and for those who were not able to give financially, but have been with me in prayer or in encouragement as I trained for this race and in the rest of my journey….thank you too!!  All the methods of generous giving have not gone unnoticed or unfelt!

Now for those of you who care to know ALL the details of how my Nashville Half Marathon went…read on friends.  If you have been around a while, you know my race reports get quite lengthy.  The short version is in a previous post called “it’s Coming.”

I traveled to Nashville once again with a group of friends, some who ran and some who came simply to cheer!(but being a race fan involves so much more than cheering when it is for me!)  The crew this year consisted of Ben, Jen, Leann, Aaron, Erin, Mitch, Holly, and Rebecca…and we met up with my cousins down there, Thomas and Elizabeth.

The Crew of fans and runners, sans Thomas...

Once again, it was a super fun trip with lots of laughter.  It is those memories that make me forget the struggle and want to do it again next year.

This year, I went into Nashville, feeling very under trained.  I had gotten sick smack in the middle of my training and didn’t run for 3 weeks.  In fact, I didn’t workout at all during that time.  As I headed into Nashville, my  longest run was 8.5 miles.  I knew it would be painful.  I knew it would be rough.  I knew what I had done to train for this last year and I knew I truly was not nearly as prepared and it was painful then.  But I also knew, I would do my best.  I would give it my all…and I would cross that finish line.

On Friday, after spending the day in Downtown Nashville and getting our race numbers, we came back to my cousin Mike and Catherine’s for what seems to be the annual pre-race spaghetti dinner.  All was well and good.  Lots of laughter.  Elizabeth is a riot.  Super dramatic and a great story-teller so we were quite entertained.

Soon though it was time to head to bed and suddenly…I was anxious.  Suddenly I am in a panic as I gather my race gear for the next day and make sure I have everything.  I double and triple checked everything…then I went and took a shower and checked everything again…and I knew….just like last year, sleep was not going to come easily.   I told Mike it was time to put in a movie and I immediately began texting Coach.  Lo and behold…I was asleep on the couch by 10 PM.  I kid you not, this is a miracle.  Last year…well…it was at least 1 AM before I fell asleep and then it was fitful at best.

I awoke in a panic on race morning and quickly got ready.  This didn’t take too much doing since I had slept in my running clothes.  (I told you I was a bit nervous).  All I had to do was put on some deodorant, brush my teeth, my shoes and my bib # had to go on and eat some breakfast. Oh and put my hair in a ponytail.  Crap!  don’t forget the heart rate monitor!

We headed downtown by 5:30 AM.  It was a brisk, early, Nashville morning and was predicted to be 80 degrees and cloudless.   Jen and I decided that regardless of where our bib numbers told us we had to start, we would start in the same corral, even though we knew we would both run our own pace and quickly separate.

While standing there, I realized I never put on any sunscreen.  I knew this would be a painful race already and I knew I didn’t want to have to deal with the pain of sunburn too…so I texted my #1 Race fan, Aaron, one question.  “Does Leann have her sunscreen on her?”  The message was clear, regardless of whether she does or not, I need some.   I put my phone away, it was time to run, knowing that somehow, I would be taken care of and protected from the sun’s rays.

And I was.

Aaron and Leann ran around the streets of Nashville and found a gas station that had sunscreen.  Erin stayed on the course to catch up with me somewhere around mile 3 and then called the others to let them know where I was…they then sprinted and caught up to us and ran with me as I applied some sunscreen (while running-because the hula hooping walkers were close behind and I could NOT let them pass me).  Then they sent me on my way…and told me they would see me at mile 8 to run me in.

Now you  may want to note, to be a race fan of mine, you may be called on to do some actual work.  These guys are amazing friends to have in your corner on race day…and I am not sure I could ever do a distance race like this without them there nor would I want to.

Backing up a bit, my cousin Elizabeth made a special IPOD playlist for me for my run.  I had no idea what was really on it.  She was playing through so much music Friday night, I just didn’t know what made the cut and what didn’t.  At about mile 1.5 I almost fell over laughing as a song she joked about putting on there, was actually put on there.  Suddenly I heard…

“when you know the notes to sing….you can sing most anything….do…re..mi…”

For about half a mile I was singing at the top pf my lungs (because who can’t sing to this song) and skipping and frolicking as if I were on the grassy hills of Austria.  Ridiculous.  I am used to getting looks and comments when I run…I mostly ignore them…but this was looks and comments of a whole nutha level!

So now, I have skipped and frolicked, I am sunscreened up, the hills are growing by leaps and bounds(I swear they are bigger than last year), I have already stopped at a gas station at mile 1 to go to the bathroom(just like last year)…and I am at about mile 5 when I glance over and what do I see…

a cloud of pink is on my right.  Yes folks, the freaking hula hooping walkers are starting to pass me by!  It was here, I started to really get discouraged and I began to fight.

I looked at a girl who was trying to be encouraging, thanked her…then I cursed the hula hoops (not the people just the hoops) under my breath and sprinted to get ahead of them.

We kept up this little dance of going back and forth for about a mile or two, before they passed me and I just couldn’t sprint long enough to get a good lead on them.

I began counting the miles until I saw my fans/friends again.  The hills felt obnoxiously bigger and longer than last year.

At various points I would run with a woman who was walking.  She was awesome.  She came with a friend and was supposed to be walking with her, but her friend kept ditching her, so she walked alone with an amazing attitude.  She really kept me going at times because I would somehow catch her or she would catch me at a point where I really just wanted to be done and we would talk for a bit.

At about mile 7, I really was praying for mile 8 to come quick.  My achilles was starting to hurt(never had that body part hurt before) and the last  2 aid stations had run out of water and cytomax.  I was hot.  Overheating I think and seriously needed water.  I had some gatorade in my bottle but was nervous to drink that too fast.  I had also been eating shot blocks like crazy and really just needed water to get rid of that sick, too sweet taste in  my mouth.  To pass the time, I talked to 2 ladies who were walking the course for a bit.  Then I looked back and saw the official tale vehicle.

Crap!  There aren’t that many people behind me if the tale vehicle is right there!!

I told the ladies I had to go, that as long as I wasn’t last, I could be ok…

I ran through a stretch of outdoor cafe areas that was full of people sitting, eating and watching the race.  I was the only runner around and suddenly one person stood up and started cheering and yelling and before I knew it, all along both sides of the street, everyone was standing and cheering and shouting at me to keep going.  I looked around and truly I was the only one around.   I realized they were cheering for ME!!!  I almost cried…and to push back the tears I started raising the roof and gesturing for more cheers…I had to make light or I would have seriously fallen down crying.

Everything hurt.  I was so tired and I knew I just had to keep going.  I was almost to mile 8…I would see my friends soon…At this point I am walking up the bigger hills and running everything in between.  I could go faster that way.

Soon I looked up and I saw the most wonderful sight in the world.  When you are out running and you feel physically awful and you are wondering if you can even finish or if you should finish, there is nothing better to see than…a friend.  Aaron was there….ready to run with me.   Thank God he had water in his bag…and was more than willing to share.

He checked in with how I was doing…and we ran.  Soon Leann joined us with her camel back on, and I moved to her left and started drinking from her straw while we ran.

Leann took over the administering of my nutrition and hydration.  She remembered that Ben had told me that I should be eating a shot block ever 15 minutes or so.  I was NOT eating them that frequently any more.  I like them but at this point I was so sick of them, it wasn’t even funny.  They tasted far too sweet. At some point Aaron and Leann took over the carrying of my ipod, my hip pack and my water bottle.

I filled my water bottle with water from a hose at some point and every 15 minutes this girl was offering me a shot block and water.  At mile 10 Aaron peeled off to go meet Jen at the finish line with her fresh t-shirt.  So it was Leann and I from 10 on.  I was ready to kill her and her shot blocks and her “encouragement” to keep running.

Now to her credit, I SUCK at communication during times like these.  In my mind, I was doing all sorts of things.  I was assessing my achilles for injury or just use pain.  Since it was a new pain I was hesitant to push it too hard and risk blowing it out.  I was also getting sick to my stomach from all the shot blocks and the water in my bottle was actually a really weak water/gatorade mix that was awful.  So sweet Leann is just trying to get me to the finish line without me passing out and I am refusing her nutrition and hydration for perfectly valid reasons that I was not communicating to her.  Nor was I communicating how sharp the pain was getting in my achilles.

We ran and walked for 2 more miles, mostly walking and slowly so.  As we hit the 12 mile marker, we got stopped by a van.  Yes a SAG van.  I was too slow on the course.  If I wanted to continue on I had to sign a waiver or I could get in the van and they would drive me to mile 13 and I could still cross the finish line.  Neither option seemed good in my head.

All I remembered about mile 12-13 was that it was a long slow uphill battle with a final fast downhill into the finish line.  I knew at my current pacing it would be another 30-40 minutes before I got to the finish line…and I knew that my achilles was hurting pretty bad.   I did not know the course to go it alone and I did not know if I had it in me to go another 30-40 minutes.  Leann believed I did.  But I did not…and regrettably, I chose the van.

As soon as I got in and the doors closed I regretted my decision.  I began to second guess myself big time and at the same time, I knew I had given it my all on that course.  It was tough.  Probably as tough as the River Bank Run last year, and I pushed through a lot of it when I really wanted to quit.  So while I second guessed myself, I did not beat myself up.

At mile 13 I got out and hobbled my way to the finish line, with Leann  and  Aaron and Erin running along the fence cheering me on.I crossed the finish line, knowing I didn’t really finish with a deep sense of disappointment.  But I didn’t linger in that space.  I posed for post race pictures that seemed to be mandatory before they would let you into the area where they have the food…and I couldn’t wait to get there.

For the first time ever, I wanted food immediately following a run.  I RARELY eat the post race food.  This time, I did.

I got food, and drink and headed out to meet my friends and to rest and then find the other group of us.

While waiting to hear back from the other half of us, we sat on a curb, ate food and I talked to Coach…who completely understood the odd mixture of deep disappointment and pride in my accomplishment.  It was good to talk to him.

Ben showed up and he helped me assess my achilles….then we got the phone call.

Holly called to tell us we had to meet her and the others by the ambulance on the bridge at the  mile 13 marker.

We raced over there…(ok I tried to race over there) to find Mitch had passed out an hour after he finished his race and was being treated for cuts and scrapes from his fall.  While scary, in the end he turned out to be ok…Thank God…

I limped for the rest of the day.  We had pizza for lunch and sushi for dinner and hit downtown Nashville for a while before heading back to sleep.

I even limped the next 2 days…then I was all better.  My pain over this race has long since ended.  In fact it is far enough in the past for me to begin wondering and pondering where next year’s half marathon will be…we all insist it will NOT be Nashville but rather somewhere flat.  However, there are groups of people getting ready to head into week-long retreats whose lives will be changed forever…and as their lives are changed, they will be refreshed to go be a catalyst for change in others lives…the kind of change that lasts forever…and that…my friends is worth running/limping/walking/crying/praying for!

Funktified

So now for the post about the rough week or so that I have been having.   I must preface it though with, it is getting better.  Slowly.  But it is.

So, I dared to hope out loud.  Yes I did.  And Disappointment has knocked me on my ass.  But I don’t regret hoping, even after all of this past week of whatever this is.  Oddly enough, at first, after the weigh in, where Demond says I lost but still wasn’t below 300 yet, I was mildly disappointed but I was ok.

But then, Monday came and when it came time to get up to go workout my thoughts were of the nature of, “why bother, it isn’t going to make a difference anyway.”  and further ” no matter how hard or how little you work, the results are the same…minimal”  Oh yes, I was knocked down and I was NOT getting up.  Not this day anyway.  Skipped a morning workout and I am not sure I made it to my evening workout either.

I was officially in. a. funk.

Thoughts this past week have been swirling.  What did I do wrong?  How do I fix it?  If only I had not missed that workout…to it doesn’t matter anyway…to I hate working out these days…I am so undisciplined, if only I could be disciplined…and back to how do I fix this?

Then I got a message from a new friend I met through Demond.  He was encouraging me in the struggle of the week and he said this

just keep at this Kim … You can really work on some of the mental struggle as you accept more and more of this as lifestyle … As more of it becomes lifestyle the less complicated the struggle. ( there is always someone around with some evil so just stay strong)

Hmmm after 2.5 years it’s not a lifestyle yet?  Maybe not. It is still exercise for an end goal of pounds lost.  Eating and counting calories burned/consumed all to manipulate the scale.

My thoughts went even more out of control after this (Don’t worry Steve, it’s not you its my funky brain!)  How do I make it a lifestyle if I haven’t yet?  More things to do, to work on, to fix.

I began to get overwhelmed with just wanting to do this right.  If I could just get the formula right and do it perfectly, then the scale HAS to move and move significantly in the direction I want it to go.  If I did exactly what Demond asked without shutting down his machines on him(yes I did that again-another post though) then maybe, just maybe….

The more I wanted to get it right, the more overwhelmed I got, the more I shut down.  I would be stretching it to say I made half my workouts last week. I was in such a funk that when Darrell and Karollee decided to come work out with Kyra and I on Thursday, I kinda didn’t want them to.  I didn’t want to be there and I didn’t want to put on a happy face.  That is saying a lot, because I love those two!

In the meantime, Demond and others are telling me that I need to exercise for fun not just calorie burn and to let him worry about the science behind all of this and to relax.

More things to do, to fix.

Now I am even more overwhelmed.  I was spiraling and I knew it and I couldn’t stop it, so I stopped trying. It was and is what it is. The more I tried to control the spiral and get myself under control the worse it got.  More things to look at and consider and fix came up and I couldn’t do it all and I certainly couldn’t seem to get it right and nothing…absolutely nothing I once delighted in seemed fun anymore.

So, after talking with Demond during our session on Saturday and more email dialogue, my job this week is to simply relax and have fun.  Up until now, I work, go to the gym, prepare to go to the gym, count calories, and record it all and start all over the next day. And when I miss something, I get eaten by guilt.

Today, I had an idea I proposed to Demond that he agreed to.  I am not counting calories this week.  I will eat intuitively but without letting my body get HUNGRY every few hours and see how that goes.  This is scary for me because as a recovering emotional eater who got to be where I am by eating freely, this could go drastically wrong.  Or it could be proof that I have changed and perhaps this is all more of an imperfect lifestyle than I think and that I can be trusted with food.

I am also looking this week for fun ways to exercise.  Not simply for calorie burn.  So tonight, I think I will be taking my nieces and nephew for a moonlight snow walk.  I will find fun and joy in exercise again…I know it is possible, because I had fun Sunday…(another post).

So folks, that is where I am at.  I have  a weigh in on Saturday…after a week of no calorie counting.

I have come too far to quit now…so I will press on through this funk until I get to the other side and find my joy again.

(it has helped to read some of my old posts today, while  snowed in, and read of times where I truly had fun and was loving this journey)

Thanks for reading, I know this is not a fun and upbeat one.