Weigh-In Wednesday and why I hate running…..

It has been a long time since I have written a long blog. Oh, I have written my thoughts down in many places but then just threw them all away or hit the “delete” button. Often times I feel like my thoughts aren’t worth sharing and nobody is really interested in what I have to say. I must get over that!

 

Anyway…over at the MLFC we are doing a Biggest Loser challenge and today is our weigh-in day. I have lost .2 this week, no not 2 pounds, 2 tenths of a pound but hey a loss is a loss, however small. I am just doing Weight Watchers online, I simply couldn’t afford the extra money for meetings at this time. I will go back but not for a while. I know why I am not losing weight. I am not exercising hard or long enough, nor am I eating the right kinds of food. I need to be running and doing something else at least 4 times a week. Right now, I am doing good to simply get a 30 minute run two or three times a week. My half marathon is in March and it is going to SUCK.

 

 

Why I have started to hate running: Running isn’t easy, but I have always enjoyed it because it made me feel powerful. It was so great to see myself progress quickly and watch the weight fall away and my times decrease every time I went out. This time around, its not happening. I haven’t done anything with consistency. I took two weeks, sort of, off, and I lost almost all of my progress. I can’t even run a 5K without having to walk for one minute, and that makes me angry. I nearly lost it on Sunday during my virtual Australia Day 5K. I had ran on Friday, so it shouldn’t have been a big deal. I wasn’t feeling good but I laced up and went out. I made it one freakin’ mile before I was in so much foot pain I couldn’t lift my feet. I just went nuts. I started bawling and screaming a lot “FTS” in the middle of the neighborhood because I knew why my feet were hurting.

 

In 2005 when I was probably at my heaviest I had plantar facitis and it was awful. I had to wear good, sturdy (ugly) shoes that were ridiculously expensive and orthopedic inserts. It took me almost a year to get over it completely. I took great care of my feet and always wore the ugly supportive shoes. Shopping on clearance racks and trendy shoes were not options for me. When I lost the majority of my weight, I was finally able to wear cute, cheap and trendy shoes. While pregnant I was back to the ugly, expensive, and supportive shoes because my feet ached and hurt so much. So, since losing most of my pregnancy weight I started wearing my cute shoes again, much to my dismay on Sunday I realized that my feet were in bad shape again. That one realization made want to throw all caution to the wind, stop running, go home and stuff my face because what is the point of losing weight if I can’t look cute and wear cute things (without having spend an arm and a leg)?

 

I let this pity party continue for about 3 minutes, snot running down my nose, tears running down face, and the expletives still exploding from my mouth. Then I decided to do what Bruce Wayne did in “The Dark Knight Rises”-Rise up..literally. I rose up on the balls of my feet and began running. I tried to not let my heel strike the ground at all. Before pregnancy I had the perfect foot strike, but now for some reason I have a horrible gait/stride and I am working to overcome it. While up on the balls of my feet, it didn’t hurt. It slowed me down and I really had to pay attention but I was able to keep going. I got my 5K in and in under forty minutes.

 That is a very strained smile on my face, just so glad to be done.

I walked back in the house and told my husband to remind me to wear shoes when I am in the house, no more running around barefoot, no more flip flops, and no more ballet flats at work (where I am up and around almost all day). I have to take care of my feet or I can’t run and if I can’t run, I can’t lose weight.

 

I went for a run on Monday and it didn't suck, it wasn't great but I didn't cry. Right now for me running isn’t the therapy that it once was, nor is it the stress reliever that I really need in my life, but I WILL continue to run, I WILL get faster, and I WILL stop hating it.

Genuine smile! I didn't die while running, nor did I have an emotional breakdown :) Little things matter ladies :)

I Hate Trying to Come Up with Catchy Titles

I haven't blogged since Thanksgiving. I haven't wanted to or had the time. This is has been one of the shittiest weeks I have ever lived through and I have had some really bad weeks. I can't go into great detail about my shitty week, but in a nutshell when it rains, it pours. I was very strong last Sunday when all it went down and continued to plaster a smile on my face, eat heathily, work out, and take care of everyone. My wonderful, awesome mother-in-law drove six hours in the pouring rain to get here to help out. I could have lost it when she got here, but I didn't. I stayed strong and focused until today. I am tired of feeling guilty about going over my point allowance on Weight Watchers, I am tired of saying no to foods I love, and I am sooooooo tired of feeling guilty that I don't work out enough or hard enough. So, this evening I ate 2 slices of pizzas, 2 breadsticks, 4 chocolate dunkers and 4 chocolate chip cookies. Do I feel like crap physically, yes because I haven't eat that much in one sitting in months, do I feel like crap mentally, no I feel fine actually. Will I get up and go run my nine miles tomorrow morning? I don't know yet, the weather is also pretty shitty right now and I am a big old wimp. 

On a slightly positive note, I am realizing that the vast majority of my clothes are too big! I dug out my "skinnier" clothes and donated many of my "fat" clothes. 

I feel like I look better, but the scale tells me otherwise and the damn voice in my head says, " running 45 minutes a day isn't good enough you need to do more, or you will never be good enough". I can't make it stop and it is driving me crazy. 

I am actually at the weight I was when I found I was pregnant but I feel like I need to shed at least 30 more pounds to get to a number that makes me happy.