Tag Archive | love

Some Kind Of Wonderful

If you have read the My Story tab that I have on my side bar or along the top header then you know that a good part of my story and my weight struggles has been tied to some pretty significant events in my life, namely childhood sexual abuse.

A few years ago, God began bringing men into my life and showing me that men can be good and trustworthy and safe…so much so that I went from having very few male friends (sure I knew men, but I wouldn’t randomly call a male up to hang out), to having Coach and Aaron and Adam be my primary people who I called on for help and support in this journey.  I know.  Crazy.  Right?  I mean, I went from always being suspicious of men and their intentions to this.

Well, if I am honest, I used to tell Coach and Aaron that there aren’t any other guys like them and that whoever God has for me has some pretty high standards to meet.  While sure, THEY are amazing, I still often had and have suspicions about male intentions.  Going further, it is those suspicions and fears that had led me to declare that I would never have a male trainer.  I mean seriously, a trainer relationship is a pretty intimate relationship.  They know all of your most private numbers.  Numbers that we don’t, as women, just toss around even amongst the girls.  A trainer knows your body and what it can do and has to touch it, either while correcting form or guiding a movement or during stretching.  Yes, stretching is MOST intimate.  No one…and I mean NO ONE touches my fat, except my trainer or my doctor…so yeah…can you see why someone who does not easily trust men and who has had my experiences in life would say, HELL NO to a male trainer?

Well, I got Demond, who IS without a doubt, male.

And can I just say once again that God is good?  I feel like he continues to stretch me in this area.  I declared no male trainers and well my situation turned into one where I decided ANY trainer that could produce results would work, male or not.   This set me up for meeting Demond and being open to him.

God seems to be taking it further and raising my expectations for my guy, whoever he may be, even higher by bringing more QUALITY men in to my life as living examples of what I can and SHOULD expect.  Let me tell you a little story.

The other night, Kyra and I met up with Demond and the A2 Fitness Pro Family for dinner.  After dinner, we were getting ready to leave and Darrell (of Darrell and Drea SSN 9 Black team of TBL) asks me if I had gotten my headlight fixed yet.  He remembered from 2 weeks prior, that my headlight was out.  Now I hate this kind of car stuff.  I know this is an easy fix, but I always feel so dumb with car stuff, so I tend to let things go longer than I should so when he asked I kind of turned away and ignored him.  He then declared that when I saw him on Sunday, he would fix it.  WHAT!?!  What man does this?  Seriously?  Just offers to fix it?  He doesn’t even know me?  But I guess that is what good men do???

So I am kind of floored by this.  I mean I live with 2 men (brothers) and they don’t offer stuff like this and one of them is an aircraft mechanic, but if I asked him you would think I asked him to replace the engine!

So that just kind of rocked my world.  Then I got in my car and was sitting there for about 10 minutes responding to some texts and what not and letting my car warm up when I looked up and noticed Demond still in the parking lot too.  His truck is kind of hard to miss.  It is BIG!  I didn’t think much of it and continued to do what I was doing.  Finally I pulled out and he immediately pulled out too.

Instantly, I realized that he had been waiting for me to leave before he left!  I asked him if he had been waiting for me and his response was that I wasn’t supposed to notice.  Well, his truck is not the most stealth vehicle so yeah…

The next day I was driving to work and I continued to think about this.  I mean, why was this SUCH A BIG FREAKING DEAL?  I felt silly and didn’t say anything to anyone all day about it.  But it rocked my world.  Seriously.  I don’t remember half my drive in to work because I was lost in thought and actually when I “came to” I was 3 miles past my turn for work and ended up late.  The feelings I was experiencing was baffled, protected, cared for, loved, vulnerable, confused.

Finally, later I decided to bring it up to Coach.  I mean, I couldn’t make sense of why this was so mind-blowing for me.   Here is what we concluded.  Demond, waiting for me in the parking lot and Darrel offering to change  a headlight spoke hugely to the part of me that simply wants to be protected.   Part of a man’s design is to be the protector and a woman’s makeup is one that wants to be protected.   That piece was not there for me growing up.  So seeing this new way for what protection and care and kindness could look like just blew me away.  Coach’s exact words as he tried to explain my own feelings for me really hit things on the head.  He said, “a man is taking action to protect you.  this is a fundamental doubt attached to your wound.”

Yes.  Yes it is. I don’t expect men to protect me.  I do it myself.  I handle what I need to handle, even if I procrastinate some of that stuff for as long as possible.  If anything, I expect them to let me down.  Afterall, a man who I should have been able to trust in my life violated that trust horribly.  It is quite a vulnerable and yet cared for feeling to know that 2 men took action to make sure I was safe without me asking for help.  They are just doing what comes naturally to them and until they read this they will have had NO CLUE the impact his actions have had on me and why.

So God is good. My poor guy is either being set up to fail hugely as he is gonna have even higher standards to meet now or I am being set up for some kind of wonderful as He continues to show me what I SHOULD expect and can expect from men who simply show up in who they are meant to be.

And as for having a male trainer…God couldn’t have given me a better one.  He is proving himself worthy of the ranks of Coach and Aaron and Adam in my life.  Quality, safe, trustworthy men, whom I measure all other men against.

So thank you Demond and Darrell(if you read this) for being gentlemen and for rocking my world this week…without even trying to.  I am loving being part of the family!

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Girls Best Friend Triathlon

Saturday morning came really fast. It was chilly and cloudy and threatened rain.  I woke up in an extremely abnormal state of 5:45 AM chattiness.  I woke up, showered and immediately began telling Jen about the crazy dream I had that night.  Jen is not a morning person either and when she wakes up on race day; it is typically in your best interest to NOT talk to her until post-race.  I was risking my life, but she was gracious enough to realize that I was not normal either.  While she has pre-race jitters one way, mine shows up in extreme warp speed chattiness about everything other than what I am about to do.  Thank you Jen for being so gracious, I love you all the more for it!

Despite that bit of oddity, the rest of the day went well.  Since this is my 3rd race with this group, no one really asked me how I felt about what I was about to do.  They knew my answer.

I AM FINE!

And I was more than fine talking about everything other than the fact that it was cold outside and how cold the water may or may not be (73 degrees) and most definitely not talking about the run.

But in the end…I did it folks!  I swam my 500 meters in 18 minutes and 17 seconds.  I was hoping to do it in 20 minutes or less.  I was last in the water (again) and got escorted in (again), this time by two of the lifeguards!  However, I am pleased to say I swam the whole way and did not ever use the lifeguards to rest!

I came out of the water much differently than in last year’s event at this same location.  Last year, my friend Todd had to drag me up the hill or I never would have made it to the transition area.  This year however, I came out and ran up the hill, as Coach tossed me my towel. (good man, Coach!)  I was so excited to be running up the hill on my own power and not being pushed or pulled up it, I started laughing/talking about how much easier this hill is this year than last.  To which I got this reply from Coach as he ran along the side of the marked area.

LESS TALKING…MORE RUNNING!!!!!

Fine.  I got to the transition area and handed off my electronic chip to Ingrid, who took off on the bike.  I caught my breath, wrapped myself in my towel, and headed out of transition with my bag to go greet my friends, to dry off and to change into my running clothes. And to pee. Again (Note to all you who wish to start racing…the bladder goes on overdrive on race day!)

About 55 minutes later, I was cheering my former teammate (from Bostwick Lake), Marissa, along with her mom in, when suddenly I am being shouted at that Ingrid is back!  CRAP!  I am not even in the transition area!  So I ran in, threw my bag down, grabbed my chip and took off.

Now, I must remind you that Coach planned on running in this all female event with me and he did.  He showed up in decked out in his running gear, ready to run.  Truth be told, he looked like the runner, where as I, just looked like a girl in cotton Capri pants and a tank top.  Next year, I will have the cool gear, except I don’t think I will be wearing spandex pants quite yet!

I ran down the hill, and realized CRAP! I have to pee! But then thought, NO time girlie, you are in a race!  So I continued down the hill and then back up and then I thought…

WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING??!?!?!?!

Seriously.

I am about 1 minute into my run, all pumped on adrenaline, trying to make it up a hill hoping 2 things.

  • That Coach will be on the other side of that hill, waiting for me, ready to run, and to help me through this
  • That Coach would somehow forget his word and NOT be there, so that I might have a chance at walking for a breather at some point.

Coach was there.  Clapping and cheering.  Ready to run.

New thought.  Why does he have to be a man of his word ALL the time?

So off we went.  Him doing what I call a simulated run.  Me running.  Gasping.  Attempting to talk in 2 word bursts.  Wondering what in the world I was doing this for.  Hearing Jen in my head reminding me why.

A little less dying and a little more living, Kim!

Oh yes, this tortuous thing that causes your legs and lungs to burn and your heart to pump at a ridiculous rate is bringing about more life!  I can be on board with that!

Part of the run was on trails, which I run on at home, and like.  Part was on cement which would be my next preferred way to run, and an obnoxiously long portion of it is on a mowed field (due to mud on the trails) which I hated!  It sucks running on grass.  It is as if the grass is a vortex that tried to suck all life from my legs.

Before we were even at mile 1, I knew that my bladder was not going to last 3 miles.  I began watching the bushes for a good place to pee, as 100’s of racers run by and Coach would be waiting for me.  Oh the awkwardness.  I saw a building up ahead and it was almost like seeing a mirage.  Could it be a bathroom? I asked Coach.   Well, nice guy that he is, ran ahead to check it out and confirmed that this was no mirage.  My bladder found relief without the prying eyes of 200 women (plus Coach) running past.

As I approached the first water station, a nice young boy called out asking if I wanted water.  OF COURSE I DO!  What a silly question!  So I grab the cup, drink it as I am running then realize there is no trash can.  What do I do with the cup?  So I turned around and went back to the table and tried to hand it back to them or ask them what I do with it.  They looked at me very strangely and told me to throw it on the ground!

WHAT?? You want me to litter?

Well, by then I was near a trash bag so I through it at least NEAR the trash bag…and continued running.  Coach then enlightened me to the art of race running.  You grab it, drink it, crumple it, and toss it.  They have volunteers to clean up after me.  That is so nice!

Throughout the race, there were several times I wanted to walk, mostly when on the grassy field.  There were also times that curse words were driven from my mouth as I realized I had a hill to climb and I refused to walk it.  In fact I was pretty determined I was not walking any part of this course, despite my desires.  In the end, I ran up the final hill.  Coach shouted for me to sprint it out, to finish strong as I approached the finish shoot and he veered off and ran along side it.  Somewhere deep inside me there was a hidden burst of energy that burst out of me when I saw Coach and Aaron running alongside the shoot, cheering, and Ingrid running and snapping pictures.  I picked up speed and ran as fast as I could across the finish line where I was handed a lovely flower and accosted to get my electronic chip back.  They are like Nazi’s about getting those chips back!

It was a lovely race.  I ran 3.1 miles in 55 minutes.  Only 5 minutes slower than what I did on a 3 mile course that was all flat and 5 minutes faster than I anticipated.

I am proud of myself.  I have done more things physically this year than I have ever thought I could do.  I am discovering a little athlete in me that wants to do more of these.  There is some sort of something that fills your head/body when you cross that finish line that makes you forget that the last 3 miles hurt, and makes you want to do it all again, plus some.  It is the strangest thing!

So, I will be in GR again next weekend.  I think I am going to go do that Fri Night Tri again!  Woot!

Oh and I will have pictures up in a few days!

So Many Names

Aunt Ginny

Curly

Baldy

Goose

Aunt Gin Gin

Goosey

Q-Tip

Bones

Chicken Legs

Grandma

Gramma Curly

Virginia

Leta Virginia Robertson

All of the above names are names that I knew my Aunt Ginny by.  They were all her nicknames at some point, given to her by someone who loved her.  However, I NEVER knew her real, given name was Leta!  Leta Virginia Robertson (Rail-maiden name) is the name she was given as an infant.  It is on her birth certificate, she was baptized in the Catholic church under that name, and it is now on her death certificate. How could I go 32 years and not know her real name?

In fact, as I sat with all my extended family.  My mom and all her sisters, all of their cousins, and their children (who are all my age) and now THEIR children…I learned some things.

1.  Aunt Ginny had 12 siblings…none of whom EVER went by their given names.  Great Aunt Fee Fee was really Vivian, My Grandma who went by Lucille was actually named Margaret.  Uncle Ronnie was actually a Robert, Uncle Mike (who I never met) was actually Gerald.  Aunt Betty was really Veronica. 2 of these Great Uncles never lived past the age of 1, so who knows what their names might have become.  There are 4 more that I am not recalling in this moment, but trust me…the names I once knew them by are not their names!  TO top it off, their nicknames are not even close to their real names!  It isn’t like Kimberly to Kim or Kimmie!  They are completely different.  OK, in reality, all the names they went by were some form of their middle name, but still.  If I were to ever want to go to the cemetery to visit their graves (I would never do this, cemeteries are weird as is our culture’s way of grieving), I would NEVER be able to find them.  And if I were to give the cemetery the name I know them by so they could direct me, they would never find them either!  Craziness!

2.  My Great relatives were glue to this family.  It is they that have been the tie that has bound us together all these years.  They took care of each others kids whenever needed and as they grew older their grandchildren and great grandchildren, nieces and nephews.

3.  Aunt Gin lost her husband 31 years ago.  At a fairly young age, 56.  She never dated anyone else.  She never considered dating anyone else or re-marrying. Uncle Stu was the man for her…and as far as I know, she was never lonely or wanting for another man after he passed.  What a great kind of love to have been able to have. How awesome to be so at peace with life that being a widow did not overshadow the joy of being mom, aunt, friend, and grandma!

I know I have my own memories of Aunt Gin.  She was funny and feisty.  She loved all the neighborhood  and family gossip.  I remember listening to her and her sisters along with my mom among others…sitting for hours playing Hand and Foot, smoking cigarettes and sipping her beer or pop.  Man did it ever get loud as they all talked over each other in an attempt to share the latest.  Aunt Gin would always start it out with, “Did you know….” then away they would go spouting their various opinions and things they each heard.

However, there was NEVER any malice in the gossip.  In reality it was jsut the way they shared what was going on in their lives.  And no matter WHAT anyone did that might have been wrong or not, no one was ever turned away at Aunt Gin’s house.  Aunt Gin talked big and loved big!  She was a pretty cool lady!

This is what I imagine.  Aunt Gin is in heaven and seeing all her siblings again.  Lucille (Margaret), Ronnie (Robert), etc… I can imagine them sitting around a table playing cards and here she goes updating them all on their families.

“Lucille, did you know….your granddaughter Kimberly (she always called me Kimberly) has lost 57 lbs!  Boy she is looking good!  Lucille you would be proud of her, she is running and working hard on her health.  She is gonna live longer than all of us ever did!  Oh and Your grandson Billy, He has 6 kids…oh man, if you could only see them all…you would love them all…Oh and did you know….Little Jonny has 2 kids of his own…and Kenny is a chef, he makes the most delightful things…Oh Lucille…my how you would be proud!”

She would then move on to each of her 12, giving updates to them all…and man would it be loud in heaven as they all spouted their own thoughts and opinions…and perhaps Jesus would chime in from time to time…laughing as they all reunite!

I don’t really know what Heaven will be like…but if Aunt Gin had her way…this is what she would be doing…being with her family and sharing all the stories and laughing at all the silly things that happen here on earth that we get so worked up about. (like the funeral procession getting separated or her daughter getting blocked in at the cemetery for over an hour by another funeral coming in as we were leaving…Oh how she would laugh at these things!)

Other noticings. It is no wonder when I think of funerals and the possibility of going to one I think of them as family affairs. Going to my friends Dad’s funeral last December I remember thinking, “wow, there sure are a ton of people here…and most of them were not family.  They were former students, fellow teachers and band mates. There were people represented from all aspects of the life this man lived in his church and in his community.

In my family, as these precious matriarchs and patriarchs have died, one by one, going to these things, 95% of the people were family. I could seriously walk up to just about anyone there and know that they were family.  I might not know exactly how we are connected but they are family just the same.  Among the older generation…”ohhh you are Lucille’s grand daughter! and amongst the younger…”oh Betty is your grandmother!”  There are literally 100’s represented with all sorts of last names.  All family. No wonder going to a funeral to be with a friend or perhaps a co-worker seems awkward to me.  I always thought I just wasn’t comfortable with the death thing.  While that is present…another part is…I am not family and funerals are family affairs, no matter how distant of family you are!  The other reality to this phenomenon is this.  In my family, at least among this generation, the family are your friends.  Aunt Gin didn’t go out with girlfriends on the weekends.  Her kids, and I and others came over any night of the week and just hung out or went yard-saling, or out to lunch.

The thing I noticed was that my family celebrates and mourns with food. At the funeral home last night, you would have thought a party was going on.  Massive amounts of chicken and macaroni salad and desserts of all kinds were brought in.  Typically, food is brought in for the immediate family and this kind of meal would perhaps be a luncheon after the actual funeral.  Not in my family.  The food was there for EVERYONE who came to the funeral home to pay their respects.  It is no wonder I eat if I am happy or sad!  This pattern goes back much farther than my nuclear family habits.  This goes back generations!!!  No wonder this is hard at times.  I am breaking generational habits of eating for comfort or for celebration!

Both….And

Well, you all know from my previous two posts there is quite a bit of sad stuff going on in my life right now.

Here is more. I gained 1.2 LBS this week.  Basically all of my loss last week is back on my body.

More disappointment.  More frustration. But really, I don’t have the head space to analyze it to death and evaluate every minute of  the last week to see what, if anything, could have been different. It is what it is. I am moving on towards a different result next week.

Before all the sad, disappointing, tearful stuff started, I had plans to do a test run of a cake I am making for Scott and Jeanne’s wedding next month, today with my brother(who once was a pastry chef at a 5 star hotel).   We had already talked over all sorts of ideas and we were going to make one so he could teach me how to make things like….gonaush, Chantilly Cream, chiffon, butter cream, whipped cream, meringue…all things needed for my cake ideas.  So despite my sadness, I had this to do today.

One of the things I used to think about emotions, and really part of my fear of getting in touch with them, is that they are all consuming.  If one is sad…then it is ALL SADNESS.  If one is angry…then it is ALL ANGER.  No room for anything else.

THis is what I noticed today.

The disappointment about the job, is still here. I really wanted it.

AND

Aunt Gin is gone. So very sad.

AND

My friends are getting married in less than a month and I am incredibly excited for them as they plan to begin their new life together.

AND

I get to have a part in making their celebration happen by making a cake.

Throughout the day, while I learned all sorts of things about cake making…I thought of Scott and Jeanne and was incredibly happy and excited.  At other times, thoughts of Aunt Gin and some random memory would come in and I would experience a mix of happiness at the good memory and sadness that she is gone…and sadness for her kids and what they must be feeling right now.

Then there were thoughts about job prospects, what is going to happen next? Will I make it back to GR anytime soon?

Ultimately, what I noticed is that, the emotions are not all consuming as I once thought. You can have a myriad of feelings in a given day and being happy for Scott and Jeanne does not diminish or get rid of the sense of loss brought on by death or by the loss of a promising possibility. It was cool to notice myself going back and forth from moment to moment, from sad to happy, to excited, to disappointed…and none of it triggered irrational urges to eat or to go off and hide.

Then there is the joy of tasting homemade butter cream frosting and making something that is gonna bring a smile to peoples lips!  One piece of this cake sent me into a sugar overload.  I have a headache and the shakes.  That is what I get for shocking my body with more sugar in one day than it has had in 8 months total!

Emotions can be a both/and thing not an either/or.  I like that!

I could swim 500 meters and I will swim 500 more….

Me, My personal Lifeguard and chasecar, and then there is my friend!
Here begins the dragging out of the water….
and up the hill….
to meet Aaron…..
and there he goes…..Go Aaron GO!!

One year ago, I signed on board with a few friends to compete in a Triathlon, relay style, Labor Day Weekend of 2008. I was to do the swim portion, Aaron would bike 20K, and Ann would then run 5K. Of course back then, I got many warnings that one could DIE swimming in a triathlon. Little did the giver of those warnings know, but that just makes me want to do it more. Tell me I cannot do something and I will prove I can!

So I began the road of swim lessons and many hours spent at the Y trying to make sure I could actually swim 500 meters straight. Well the weekend arrived last week and my team, complete with cheerleaders (Yay Adam, Leann, Mom, Laurie and Larry), and Jen’s team showed up at the triathlon, ready to go. Then I saw the lake, and the buoys, and how far away they were from each other. Then the announcer told us where I had to swim around, thank GOD is wasn’t ALL the buoys I saw out there!! I wasn’t saying much. I looked pretty calm. Aaron, Ann, Jen, and all the rest asked how I was doing. My standard answer was “I’m good!” However, my internal answer was…^%@!@&&*@&%&. The more I talk about how nervous I am, the worse it gets. So it is much better for me to put my game face on than be honest. Now that it is over….I was very nervous. But in reality, I was more nervous about making it up the hill after swimming than I was about the swim. I mean come on…it is sooo NOT FAIR to make people get out of the water and run up a hill on rubber legs in their swimsuits. But who says that Triathlons were meant to be fair!

In the end, I swam the distance, with my own personal lifeguard puttering along next to me. He says he is the chase car in a marathon. His job was to swim with the last person in the water. So I guess you now know how quickly I swam…not quick! My first 10 minutes were rough. But that is how it always is…I wanted to quit to say the least. But how does one quit in a Lake. At the pool, you grab a wall and hang on. In a lake your choices are limited. Turn around, swim on, or get hauled out. Getting hauled out was not an option for me because the ONLY way I would allow that was if I was dead…and frankly I wasn’t up for dying. Turning around was not an option either because when I wanted to quit it was equally far to turn around and swim back as it was to keep going and finish. Not to mention the fear of failure and the shame that would go along with it.

As I approached the finish, I see a man in the water just beyond the finish line. I hear cheering…yes I have fans 🙂 Then I notice the man in the water is a friend of mine who had already finished his swim…He came back for me. TO cheer me in, and to conquer the hill with me. I was not alone. Talk about no man being left behind. I felt very very loved. Together we made it up the hill and I was able to get my electronic chip that keeps track of our times passed off to Aaron so he could go off on the bike. Then and only then, was I finally able to breathe…and begin to wonder will I even recognize Aaron when he comes in on the bike. What was he wearing? What color is his helmet? Is he wearing sun glasses or not? How will I know to cheer like crazy when he comes in? SO I went and changed then stood near his siblings. Because I was for SURE that they of all people would recognize him…and when they cheered, I would cheer.

He did great, despite a mechanical failure on the bike. His seat dropped when he sat on it, so he rode a bike that was not fitted right for him and with a seat that was wobbling. Despite all that, he still spent less time on the bike than Virg. Yes it is a small victory and probably the only competitive victory for our team of the day, but a victory nonetheless.

He came in, and yes I recognized him…and Ann took off to finish strong on the running.

All in all, we decided we wanted to do it again next year, but the longer version. So next year, I add 500 meters on and will swim a total of 1000 meters. I am so glad they want me back on their team again:-)

And on a side note: I am beginning to see a theme in my fears. My fears have nothing to do with the event itself, but with what I might look like doing the event(valid-see photos), or how others might perceive it(not valid, they want me back), or the not being able to do it(not valid, I did it!).
Click the link to see our results if you care to see them. 🙂

http://www.3disciplines.com/index2.php?option=com_docman&task=doc_view&gid=843&Itemid=60