Day 15. I read some where nothing changes until you change and I couldn’t agree more but it is definitely a lot easier said than done.  After two full weeks of training behind me and almost halfway through week three, I am learning just how hard change is.

While last week went well, I lost some of my confidence when I started running outside.  Except for the hilly walk/run the weekend prior, I’ve been running on the treadmill because my schedule hasn’t lent itself to running outside.  Well, that changed this weekend.  I ran both my runs Saturday and Sunday outside and it kind of sucked.  I was slow and the hard surface caused an ass ball in my left cheek and sharp pains in my right foot.  I had to stop and stretch and walk out the cramping a couple times.  It wasn’t fun.

This is where the hard change comes in.

Despite all of that happening Saturday, I got up and did it again Sunday – experiencing the same pains – and managed to shave a full minute per mile off my run.  This for me, was a small victory not just because I did it – because I really didn’t want to.

I had no desire to run when I woke up Sunday, even though I knew full well I had to.  I was sore, it was undoubtedly going to hurt (and it did) and it was raining.  But I found as much as I was talking myself out of it, I was talking myself into it.

That little voice is my head may not be ready for change, but at least there is an adversarial one to help balance the noise. They say the mind is a terrible thing to waste, but some days I wonder…it seems to be my biggest opponent more often than not.

I want to be a runner.  I want to be an athlete again and I have to believe I can do this.  I have a daily (head) talk with myself about perseverance, believing in myself, determination and self worth. These past two years have been a nonstop effort to rid myself of my marriage baggage and it’s not easy.  I had a lot of demons to kick out and I’ve given up on things more times than I care to admit. I can’t do that this time.

I keep waiting to magically wake up and think “I can’t wait to go run” but that hasn’t happened yet.  Will it? I’m not so sure.  I just have to keep finding ways to keep pushing and not let myself down.

I have to believe it will get easier.  Until then, one run at a time.

This is more than just running a 13.1 mile race, THIS is my fight song.

Day 8. I may not be there yet but am closer today than I was yesterday. This is what I told myself tonight as I pushed through three more miles…I’m not going to lie, the way I felt while running, I wasn’t so sure. But…first full week of training down, 13 more to go.

First week went relatively well, but I did short myself one day’s training. In my defense though, Mother Nature interfered by laying a beautiful sheet of ice down making it impossible to run. I wasn’t exactly heartbroken, but I am a rule follower and still feel pretty guilty about it. On the up side, the mini-vacay showed how easy it is to work in a run while away – and I got to experience one ass kicker of a hill. The cabin we rented was about 1.2 miles up the mountain, so we (had a handsome running companion) got up early Saturday morning and ran down the mountain and slowly ran/walked back up.

First lesson learned from week one – I am pretty sure I am going to die running up the hill around Mile 11 of the Marine Corps Historic Half. I haven’t seen the hill yet, but from what I understand, it’s a little over a mile straight up. Marines have an odd sense of humor.

Second lesson. I need to figure out how to stretch my calves out – they are still sore from the massive hill and that was three days ago. I’ve done the usual stretches but they were cramping as I ran tonight – not sure I can run 13.1 miles with that happening.

Lesson three. I have some wonderful people in my life. The love and support I’ve received over the past week is inspiring and makes me want to work harder for them. I’ve never really been the type of person that requires praise to perform well, but it’s nice knowing so many people believe in me.

Final lesson – never, ever, ever play Bean Boozled again. Unrelated to running, but seriously the worst game I have ever played.

I’ve also learned that I need to continually remind myself that I am doing this for me and if I try to measure my success against others, I will defeat myself even if I finish. I say this because as I ran tonight there was a woman running on the treadmill next to me and she was slaying it. It felt like she was running 10 times faster than me and I found myself trying to keep up – and I was failing. My calves were cramping and I needed to stop and stretch and I almost denied myself that because I was feeling so inferior. I eventually stopped for a minute and did a couple stretches and then got back to it but had I not and regained my pace; I may not have been able to finish.

It’s not about being better than someone else, I’m not a super competitive person, this is more about me not feeling like I measure up. Part of the damage I am trying to heal is learning that I may not be the best, but whatever I am is ok – maybe even fabulous 🙂

Off to downward dog and bask in my success until Thursday.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Day 3. Change may have started in my mind, but my body isn’t so quick on the draw.

I woke up yesterday feeling quite accomplished. I’d started my training, got my first blog post in the day before — and it was a day off from running. That coupled with the encouragement I was getting from my friends, I was feeling pretty good about myself.

I got up this morning feeling much the same way. I was feeling like a runner. I felt super accomplished simply by packing my snazzy new running tights and carefully coordinated socks.

Then 2 o’clock hit.

Those pesky little anti-gym devils had perched themselves on my shoulders and commenced with their “you should skip the gym” speeches. All the sudden I was yawning, telling myself I felt a little congested, and my foot hurt, and it would be late when I got home, I had to pack, I need a glass of wine, it was cold…and on and on and on.  Let’s face it, these dogged little suckers are a big reason why I am where I’m at…and I’m not going to lie, they were putting up a good fight, but today, somehow I won the battle – quitting time came and I drug my sorry butt to the gym.

So second day of training is officially in the books. Certainly not going to win any awards right now for speed but did manage to run the entire three miles today – albeit it was on a treadmill. Unfortunately, it’s still a little too dark when I get off work to run outside, not to mention cold.

And while I ran the entire three miles today, it sucked. I was a lot sorer than I had realized and my hips and calves barked the whole time. I also felt like I had cement blocks on my feet…but somehow I muscled up the strength to push through.

I also realized I need a new sports bra. Tuesday I felt like I was going to bounce out so I downsized today and then felt like there was a boa constrictor wrapped around me. I don’t recall this being an issue before…and not necessarily a big issue now, just a problem to solve. Will work this out this weekend.

While I am not feeling particularly exuberant post run tonight, I still feel accomplished. I was tired, a little congested, my foot did hurt, it was late when I got home, still need to pack, and it’s super cold out – but I found some grit and did it anyway (rewarding myself with the wine now and maybe a small pat on the back).

I’m pretty sure I will need to muscle a whole lotta grit Saturday when I have to run in the cold outside, on a mountain, but I have to believe I will do it.

For now, three more miles in.

 

 

 

 

Day 1. Change starts in your mind. Or so I want to believe…but now that I have put rubber to the road, I’m not feeling quite as sure…

So let me back up a little first. In reality, the last three years of my life have essentially been about change…a new job, divorce, a serious injury, dating, two major surgeries, falling in love, daughter’s wedding…short of a death in the family or diagnosis of a serious illness – albeit, there was a brief scare of that (may get to that later in the blog) – I pretty much hit all the big ticket items. Yes, some were self-induced, but they were driven out of necessity.

When I first separated from my ex, I was fit. I was at a healthy weight, super active and regularly working out. I felt good about how I looked. Of course, I was a little critical of myself thinking I could be a little leaner, a little more svelte…which seems hella crazy to me now…but as a woman, I think we are always just {this} much from feeling perfect.

However, shortly thereafter I was faced with a serious injury for the first time in my life. My shoulder was severely dislocated (another thing I will get into later…) and while one would think that would have very little do with the rest of my body, it had a huge impact and significantly limited my activities.

My ortho doc said “take this time and enjoy leisure activities…your strength will come back, allow yourself time to heal…”…so enjoy I did!

About four months after the initial dislocation, my shoulder dislocated again and then unfortunately surgery became my only option. It seemed like a pretty easy fix with a relatively short down time, but the damage was far worse than anticipated and the surgery and subsequent recovery was more extensive than I had planned.

But again…my ortho surgeon said “let yourself heal…you will get better, you’ll be as strong as you were and any weight you gain will come off…focus your attention on healing”….so again, I followed doctor’s orders.

Recovery was going well. I had put on a little weight but was back in the gym and slowly working my way back and starting to feel like my old self again when surgery #2 reared its ugly head. My uterus decided it was time to vacate the premises…so again I got the “the key to recovery is giving yourself time to heal”…the one piece of medical advice that I seemed to excel at.

Somewhere in my head I knew I was heading down a road that would be hard to return from but I was in a new relationship, happy and content so it really wasn’t super troubling — until that morning when I woke up and realized that even my “fat” pants were too small.

And on top of that – my daughter’s wedding and those damn pictures that live on in infamy were fast approaching.

So I got motivated and started working out, nixed the carbs and cut back the wine (that hurt). Wasn’t long and I was down 15 lbs (Go me!) and squeezing into a semi-fabulous mom-of-the-bride dress. I didn’t feel great, but I felt better. My workouts were coming along and I was feeling super ambitious and thought “I want to run a half marathon”…so I gathered some friends, registered and committed to getting on training right after the holidays…

That was nearly three months ago and as of today, the half marathon is 14 weeks away. I have done very little, I mean very little to train…oh and the 15 lbs are back.

So why now? Why this blog? I’m not sure. I want some accountability…need some encouragement…and hoping that journaling my experience helps me find more than my mojo.

My divorce sucked — like sucked with a capital SUCK! As most do. It and my marriage left me damaged, in many ways. But it’s not all doom and gloom, I’ve had many amazing things happen as well, including meeting a wonderful person to share my life with…but there’s something still missing, not from my relationship, from me. Not sure if “it” was ever there…not sure if I will ever find “it” but I need and want to run this race to show myself I can and fire up the grit and determination that I know lives in me somewhere.

I don’t know if one person or 100 will read this blog but I want to share my journey anyway. I am an average, 40-something woman, who found herself in unusual circumstances and been fumbling my way through the past three years trying to find peace and balance. Sharing my story may help, it may not…only time will tell.

But one thing is for sure – on May 15^th, I am running 13.1 miles.

Today only 3.