And the Beat Goes On

Yes, I know: I am officially the World's Worst Blogger. It's fairly easy to suck at something when you don't do it. But in my defense, I don't think anybody would really want to read anything I could possibly have said in the past 5 months. It would have been a lot of me going "Oh, I'm so unhappy with myself but I'm just not that motivated to do....Ooo ice cream!!" I may not be quite that ADD, but you get my point. Nobody wants to listen to a whiny bitch and nobody wants to listen about the same person who keeps making the same mistakes and can't seem to get her shit together. Now before we go any further let me state that I'm not sure if I have my shit together right now, but I'm actually trying so that's something compared to the past year almost.

At the encouragement/prodding/"Nicki can totally kick your ass" sayings of my lovely roomie, I have decided to run a 10k on September 24th. It's for the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation so I am running for a purpose and not just to get bunny ears. After running a half marathon last year I realize that a 10k is not that big of a deal, but right now to me it is. As someone who has fallen so stagnant in their exercise life to the point of doing nothing it's a big ass deal that I'm going to run 6.2 miles.

I started training (yes, I am training for this) last week which gave me 4 full weeks to prepare myself. Since I have run before I don't think it's ridiculous to think that at the end of a month I'd be able to run a 10k. I'm certainly not going to win the race, but when has that ever been my goal with running? Anyway, with my schedule I'm running 4 times a week with my "big" runs on Saturday. Last week was the first week and man did I want to kill myself. The first day wasn't too bad, but then it went downhill from there. I'm not sure if it was the combination of extreme heat (running when it's almost 90 degrees outside is not fun), my lack of hydration/proper nutrition and being out of shape but whatever it was I was not a happy camper. My 2nd and 3rd runs were the perfect examples of why I generally hate running: I had no stamina, my body felt like shit, my mind was defeated no matter I told it and I never truly felt like I accomplished something. When it came to my 4 mile run on Saturday, I won't make excuses, I never did it. Between drinking, not wanting to do it, being tired and having to work I was able to find a reason not to go. Is it the best thing ever? No. Can I expect myself to be perfect after so much imperfection? No. I messed up, but now I move on.

Today I went for a run and instead of going for 3 miles I decided I'd do 4 since I skipped that this weekend. It was honestly the best run I've ever had in my entire life; a complete 180 from everything last week. My body felt really phenomenal, the temperature was pretty perfect, I got into a groove and my mind was actually wandering while I ran. I started to get a little dehydrated, but I didn't want to stop even for a few seconds because I was worried if I did I'd throw off my rhythm. But even that was never anything too bad. What makes me most proud about this run is the fact that I actually ran all of my 4.3 mile run. I never once stopped to walk for even a little bit. I have never done that in my entire life!! During my half I came up to the Bridge a little after mile 3 and ended up walking for a bit. So not only did I run the whole time, but I even ran a little extra. Honestly, I probably could have kept going. It was that fantastic of a run!!

Ever since coming home I have had the most amazing feeling. Everything about me right now is happy and feeling good. And this right here is the reason why I want to run: to experience this feeling. It's pretty close to being euphoric. I don't expect all of my runs to go like this. I'm sure Wednesday when I run again I'll probably end up needing to stop within the first mile or something because that's the way my life goes. But even when that happens I'll know in my mind that no matter how much I may suck that day there's a possibility that tomorrow is just going to blow me out of the water. So maybe if I keep at this whole running thing on a fairly consistent schedule (even after the 10k) I'll have more of these amazing days and less of the "I want to kill myself" days. Here's hoping!!

It All Started With a Picture

Ever since I started my "weight loss journey" two and a half years ago, my path has been a relatively easy one. The first year, I lost 30 pounds by doing nothing besides live with a new roommate. My roomie is a pretty healthy person, in her eating and exercise habits, and overtime I started adopting her healthier eating habits. I gained a crap ton of weight by living in the most unhealthy apartment any college student can live in. I then lost a bunch of weight by changing the way I ate. The one thing that was especially crazy about losing those 30 pounds I remember, was the fact that I didn't even realize I was losing weight. My parents said something to me when I was home visiting and it all clicked.

The second year I lost another 30 pounds by adding exercise to my more healthy diet. I joined a gym randomly one day and started working out five days a week. Of course after about 2 months or so the working out that much waned a bit, but I still kind of kept up with with. Even though I wasn't going to the gym as much, I was able to maintain my weight. And then last fall I decided to run my half marathon. What little training I did for that apparently did something to my body because people kept telling me that I looked slimmer. Honest to God, I did not lose any weight during that time so my best guess is that I toned up a bit.

So what is the point in sharing all of this? The point is that while I have put in some effort over the past couple of years, losing weight has come without any major problems. I haven't had any of those Biggest Loser type breakdowns or freak outs. Until now. Or maybe I should say until about 5 months ago. After the half marathon my exercising became non existent. For awhile it was because I honestly did not want to work out after running so much and putting my body through that. That, I feel is a completely valid response. What isn't valid is the fact that I used that break to turn into my gateway for laziness. By the time I was ready to run again I convinced myself that it was too cold to run outside, getting to gym was too inconvenient and then I didn't have a gym membership anymore because I wasn't using it. My ultimate act of laziness was not using the workout dvds my roomie had. All I had to do was spend 30 minutes in living room and I couldn't even be bothered to do that. All of the usual excuses appeared as to why I wasn't using them, but in my mind it didn't matter since I wasn't gaining weight. Of course on top of my complete laziness my eating has gone to shit and while I recognized it I didn't care.

A couple of weeks ago I weighed myself at work and found out that I had gained about 15 pounds. I was completely blown away. It took me two years to lose 60 pounds and only about 4 months to gain 15. I had a mini panic attack and all of the thoughts like "How could you let this happen?" crossed my mind. I know how it happened. I saw all the signs. I just chose to ignore each and every one of them. What's truly sad, is that even knowing I had gained the weight didn't make me do anything; it actually made me sad and hopeless like it used to. I resorted to my teenage self where I would either binge eat or just eat total crap food. In my head I knew I had to take that step and make a change, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. And then I saw the pictures.

For me, everything started with a picture so it's not surprising that my reality check came from more pictures. Last weekend, the city of Chicago celebrated St. Patrick's Day by dyeing the river green and having a parade. Like most young people, I used the day as a way to drink for 12 hours straight. I had a great time with my friends and would say that this year was celebration is up there with some of the best I've had. Over the next couple of days I started seeing all the pictures and while some of them are very nice all I see is a super fat me. After visiting my brother, I swore that I would never let my weight taint my memories but I did it again. I let myself down. Being a people pleaser, it's really difficult accepting the fact that I'm disappointed in myself.

I feel like I'm back where I started a year and a half age: being angry at myself, my body and the way I look to people whom I meet. I feel like I've failed myself all over again. I feel like I've failed all the people that have supported me over the past couple of years believing in me and thinking that I could change. So what do I do now? What I do is accept what has happened, pick myself up and move on. I stop being lazy and act. Yesterday I did a Bob Harper Biggest Loser dvd. Today I went for a 3 mile run to continue to get back into the swing of things. I take this one day at a time, one decision at a time. My weight is never going to be an easy thing for me; it really will be a life long struggle. All I can do is accept responsibilities for my actions and make changes when needed. I must acknowledge that at times I will succeed and at others I will struggle. Recently, I've struggled but now it is time to come out a stronger person and succeed.