I do it, and I do it big. Here's to not forgetting about it.

Archive for June, 2014

Apparently, I’m a Total Bitch. Workout Edition

20140606-223927-81567519.jpg

Overheard at the gym:

(Spoken in most valley voice possible)
Chick: Oh. My. Gawd. This is, like, really hard. I can’t even, like, run a mile.

Now, as I work out, I’m pretty focused on what I’m doing. However, this chick’s voice KINDA grated on my ears. So I did what any normal woman would do. I checked her out.

Tiny waist. Big titties. Booty with personality. Long, flowing hair. Aside from her lack of running stamina, I know NOTHING about this woman. She could be very lovely. Or she could be as annoying as I found her voice to be. I don’t know, and honestly, that’s not really the point. But I am ashamed of what went through my head next.

“This heffa can’t even run a mile and she has that body? Lucky. BITCH.”

I have been blessed with many things. Not among my collection of blessings is the ability to not run a mile and still be hot. I’ve got to work hard as hell not to be a chocolate blob. Granted, everyone loves chocolate, but still. It feels like I can’t rest and there are people who walk this earth who can.

Of course, they can’t really. The “overweight” person who can run a mile is better off than the shapely, socially acceptably shaped person who cannot. What’s really scary is how pervasive these perceptions are – that it is better to be cute than healthy. They almost got me too, man. You really never know what someone is going through or has been through. This is my clarion call – do what you can to uplift those around you. Even the luckiest bitches.

So, to the chick at the gym – I am sorry I called you a bitch in my head! Keep coming and I’m sure you will be able to run that mile very soon! You will be better for it. Perhaps not as witty as I am, but hey, you can’t have everything.

Holy Hormones, Batman: A Pattern Emerges

20140615-005623-3383150.jpg

So, remember when I had that meltdown earlier this month? Also, remember when I became morbidly obese? Sigh. The picture above is a screenshot of my sleep patterns for the last 3 months. Notice the big ass dips at the beginning of May and June in sleep quality.

I WONDER WHAT HAPPENS AT THE BEGINNING OF EVERY MONTH THAT THROWS MY BODY OFF.

I’ve…I’ve been a girl all my life, y’all. I’m a little ashamed that it’s taken me this me long to come to grips with the fact that my period is kind of a game changer. Not just in terms of how my body handles changes but how my brain handles those changes. Now, I need help figuring out what my body needs so that the changes don’t make me feel like my world is bloody collapsing in on me 25% of the time. That is an unacceptable drop in productivity.

I’ve lost 5 of the 10 pounds, by the way. I’m a crazy ass champ.

20140615-011058-4258356.jpg

Is It Really Possible to Find Love at The Gym?

20140614-220137-79297920.jpg

Yes. Yes, it is.

When I started strength training last January, I was not doing so with the intent to build any relationships. “I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to maximize my fineness.” This is not to say that I am standoffish person; au contraire, I’m generally sociable and smiley, tee hee. It’s simply that I do things with specific intent – relationships are generally secondary to whatever agenda I have in mind, for better or worse.

However, my gym has the friendliest bullies in town.

I say this because at every turn, its fearless leader was trying to pull me in. To a race. To its Facebook page. To some team-building event. I would politely decline unless I felt something suited my personal agenda. While I dislike disappointing people, I like doing what I want when I want to even more. 🙂 That being said, I feel the tagline of the group really should be “Where no means ‘not yet.'” Everyone gets sucked in on some level, and I am
not immune. It is what it is.

Little did I know what would come of this.

About a year after I initially joined the gym, I was on the Facebook page (bear in mind, I had no Facebook account at all the year before) and I found myself saying something encouraging to someone I didn’t know very well. I had seen her IRL perhaps twice up to that point. Nonetheless, from what I could tell, she oozed positivity. You’d kinda have to be a complete asshole pretty misguided not to be attracted to her energy.

Pretty soon, the two of us were talking often. I realized that often had become daily, to the point where – at least, for me, if I haven’t spoken with her just to say “sup!” something feels off. This may not seem like a big deal for some, but for me it’s freaking huge. I had thought the close friend making phase of my life was over. I hadn’t had a spontaneous relationship generate like that in several years, since I was in graduate school. I simply had figured, “well, people are getting married and making babies, buying houses, getting divorced, and dying.” No time to make new friends. I’ve cherished the relationships I have and work to consistently nurture them. I’m more than elated to report that there’s a new recruit on my bestie roster.

I really trust this woman. She motivates me to be my best, to try things that I ordinarily would not. I feel compelled to write this today because yet again, during boot camp this morning, when we partnered up (for the first time, yay, she is popular) I was able to do something that I’ve been unable to do for MONTHS. Bloody deck squats. She helped me with my first sub 9 minute mile not too long ago. With her in my life, I am stronger, braver, and probably gentler.

To Michele – I’m so thankful that God has brought you into my life! Thank you for sharing you with me. I know I speak for many when I say that you are truly a remarkable woman whose presence makes the world a better place. I love you!

20140614-215703-79023248.jpg

Do Triathletes Hate Jesus?

20140608-115144-42704173.jpg

“Good to see you here, guest!”

These words from the person sitting behind me in church today stung my guilty conscience. I smiled and shook her hand as I thought to myself, “Lady, I’ve been a member of this church longer than you’ve – anyway, ma’am, it’s been a long time.” Indeed, I’ve been a member of my church since I was baptized there 15 years ago and attending before that. I have great respect for my pastor and am always fed spiritually whenever I choose to go. Unlike that stupid “I really regret that workout, said no one ever,” meme, my currently injured, always battling perfectionism butt never regrets going to church.

However, as my sister-in-Christ inadvertently pointed out today, church attendance has not been a priority of mine lately.

When I started racing, participating in running races and training rarely came up against my church attendance. Race on Saturday, thank God for making me so awesome on Sunday. No problem. Then came triathlon. As I started looking for races to do, I noticed quickly that while most running races fall on Saturdays, most triathlons fall on Sundays. What’s up with that? Okay, let’s say I race 5 out of 52 Sundays in a year – 47/52 ain’t bad, right?

Then comes the training.

Open water swims. Sunday morning. Long rides. Sunday morning. Long runs. Sunday morning. I can only do so much physically on Saturday. Everyone seems to love training on Sunday and because I am new I am uncomfortable swimming and biking by myself. This time, it is really my desire to regularly attend church and not my distrust of others that makes me wish I were further along on my TriBaby journey. No one that shares my hobby seems to have this conflict. I’ve even secretly wished that I practiced faith in a denomination that had more service times. How twisted is that?

Not quite as twisted as having a new reason to miss church.

Some of the things I struggle with as a triathlete I struggled with first as a Christian. Those who know me closely know that I really value my relationships. Once you’re in, you’re in. If you’re not in – the word apathy comes to mind. Notice how I spoke of my respect for my pastor and not of my relationships with anyone in church. 17 years in and He is still working on my desire to fellowship with other believers. In fact, I would say that I feel much closer to God while racing and training than in church. I have no choice but to turn to Him as “I discipline my body like an athlete, training it to do what it should.” (1 Cor 9:27a) I’m no (complete) dummy.

I pray that I find resolution to this scheduling conflict, but more importantly, I pray that my heart is softened toward others. My soul needs way more work than my body. Real talk.

Success and Expiration Dates

Success

Have you ever wondered how long you are allowed to be proud of something you’ve accomplished?

As I struggle mentally with maintaining my weight loss, I wonder what right I have to feel like I’ve done something good with my life if it can slip away so quickly. When I scan my brain for other things I have accomplished, I immediately think of my education. Is that something that I will ever stop being proud of? Unlikely, because I put it into action daily (though EXTREMELY imperfectly)! I did it, and I’m doing it.

I’ll cut to the chase – what if my fairly toned outside matches my fat inside again? Would it be foolish to be proud of the year that I’ve had if I let myself go, so to speak? It’s like the jackass who says he didn’t beat his wife – today. He’s still a wife-beater! Okay, so I’ve had a relatively healthy 16 months. Don’t I have to keep doing it until I’m dead to count myself successful?

Does yesterday count for anything if today sucks?

I’m the same person I always was. FanFREAKINGtastic.

20140605-214017-78017929.jpg

Not happening. That’s good race money.

So here I am, dissatisfied with my current weight. I had been so proud of myself that I no longer thought of all the cupcakes and cookies at work as tempting. Now that I’m consciously working to weigh less, EVERYTHING is taunting me. It is as though I am back at square one: Dieting. Disgusting.

It is difficult for me to eat right now without feeling guilty. Regardless of my mental/physical state, I have always enjoyed meal time. Enjoy it like go to bed early so breakfast will come sooner. I do it big. Now it’s, “ooh I just ate that reasonable meal, when do I get to eat another? Good thing I have these students to teach otherwise I’d have NOTHING TO DO BETWEEN MEALS.” You read that right, folks. “Want to fill your time between Breakfast and Snack 1? Consider a career in education.” You can bet your ass I am thankful for training and practicing this summer just because I will have something to enjoy aside from food.

I think the most upsetting part is how easy it is for everything to unravel if you are not paying close attention. As someone who struggles with wanting to be perfect, this does not help. Two. Weeks. 20% of my lost weight can return. That’s insane. Yes, I am back to training (well, in two sports, anyhow), but does this mean I can’t ever relax? I am fighting every bone in my body not to weigh myself daily because I know I will go even more nuts.

I’m still fat. Just on the inside.

Welp, That’s It. I’m Certifiable.

20140605-123712-45432920.jpg

I’m thankful that I haven’t reached the level of insanity as the above sentiment has. That doesn’t mean I don’t regularly give it a damn good try.

Something I’ve noticed about myself over many years is that I tend to work best under pressure. Without a well defined goal closely in front of me, I am usually not motivated. I procrastinate like a professional. I’m that person who turned in papers due at 5 PM at 4:59:58. (Don’t want to cut it too close). If you ask me to do something without a deadline or without specified guidelines, it’s probably not getting done.

Meanwhile, I’m coping with this injury and getting back into the shape I know I can be in, and then it occurred to me:

What if I gained 10 pounds on purpose?

I am infinitely more focused than I was a week ago. Now I have something to work toward. Before, my race was a million miles away (it still is, by the way) and I am surrounded by end of the school year festivities. Am I so undisciplined that the idea of responsibly maintaining my weight is not enough to keep me motivated?

Yup.

Also, when I posted on Facebook that I am staging my comeback, I got several likes. Guess who took that to mean her friends think she’s fat. And they let me walk the streets.

Tag Cloud