Redefining Some Things

One of my best friends has been dealing with an obscure form of cancer for over 10 years now. She and I have had many conversations about it, and recently she sent me an interesting article about the Linguistics of Cancer. That article got me thinking about a lot of things in my own life, and I've come to some significant conclusions.

Most of my life, my body description has ranged from "chubby" to "significantly overweight." There have been only a few brief periods of "only a little chubby." NEVER, EVER have I described myself as having a "normal" body size.

Much of my time and energy is spent focusing on what I need to change--how my stomach is too squishy, my arms too flabby, my thighs too jiggly, how I ate too much for dinner, had a second bite of cupcake when I shouldn't have, didn't get up to exercise, wish that I had gone for a walk last night (despite the heat, humidity, and swarms of mosquitoes). I make excuse after excuse, and then mentally berate myself for not being stronger, for falling short in so many physical areas. When I step on the scale, instead of rejoicing over the 2 lbs lost since last week, I only see the 50 more lbs I want to lose, and silently slap myself thinking, "if I hadn't had ANY cookies this week, and had stayed away from the bacon all together, maybe I would have lost THREE lbs instead of just TWO."

Seriously, people. What the hell is wrong with me?!?!

I am CHUBBY. It's true. That is a word that can be used to honestly describe my body.

But you know what else I am?

I am: a good friend, loyal, patient, funny, adventurous, loving, a seeker of knowledge, a leader, a teacher, strong, faithful, a baker of delicious chocolate-chip cookies, a traveler, a researcher. I am a daughter, an aunt, a sister, a friend. I love to laugh, loud and often. I enjoy helping people, whether that be providing a meal, donating money to a cause, buying a gift, meeting a friend for lunch, lending a listening ear or a shoulder to cry on. I live life to the fullest, always looking for ways to learn, grow, and improve myself. I enjoy photography, cooking, reading, and planning trips to see the world. I chat with friends, old and new, over the phone, over dinner, over pedicures. I am thinking about going back to school, my job, my future career. I research and explore options fully before making decisions. I am strong-willed, stubborn, a fiercely loyal friend, a champion of those I care about. I am smart, enjoy being intellectually challenged, like lifting weights, love my CrossFit family. I also like to try new foods, cook, bake sweets, and generally enjoy life.

And yes, I am CHUBBY.

But why in the world am I letting ONE SMALL characteristic of myself overshadow the MANY, MANY other things that make me who I am???

Let me tell you something. My nieces and nephews, whom I love more than anything else in this world...well, they don't seem to care whether I'm chubby or not. They didn't love me any more when I was less chubby, and they sure don't love me any less now that my waistline has expanded. To them, I am simply Aunt Anela, a favorite.

My friends haven't stopped hanging out with me just because my pants size is larger than it used to be.

No one at works seems to think me any less capable of teaching now that my chin has a chin of its own. Parents haven't complained about their child's CHUBBY teacher. My performance reviews have all been excellent, despite the weight I have gained.

The summer camp that I'm working for had no problems hiring my CHUBBY self. They haven't seemed to mind my jiggly arms, or the cellulite on my legs. My CHUBBINESS has in no way impacted my ability to be a confident Camp Director, a coach to my staff, a liaison to Rice University, and a face that parents trust to take care of their children.

My dear friend and I have talked a lot about her cancer, how it's something she has and deals with, but it's also not her defining characteristic, and she refuses to let it take over who she is as a person.

I am here to do the same with my own struggle, being CHUBBY. Yes, I am CHUBBY. It's true. I deal with it the best I can, always fighting to be healthy and work to overcome this obstacle in my life.

But I am SO MUCH MORE than just CHUBBY. That is such a tiny part of what makes me uniquely Anela.

Another good friend of mine introduced me to the WYCWYC movement--doing What You Can, When You Can.

I LOVE IT!  WYCWYC!

Right now, I am working crazy, long, intense hours at a summer camp. I am living at Rice University during the week and eating in their cafeteria. My time is not really my own. I am running a camp with 72 kids a week and 12 staff members under me. Frankly, life is not about ME right now, it's about my job. So, while I can certainly make healthier choices in the cafeteria, I am limited as to the foods I have access to, and the time I have to workout. My focus for the next few weeks, until camp is over, is on doing my job well, NOT on worrying about my CHUBBINESS.

And you know what? That's okay.

There will be times when I am more able to focus on fighting the CHUBS, and there will be other times when something else will take center stage for me. And I need to be okay with that.

I don't want to focus all of my time and energy and effort on eliminating the CHUBS at the EXPENSE of all those other characteristics that define me!

I am Anela. And I am SO MUCH MORE than just CHUBBY.

In the Eye of the Beholder

So, I've pretty much felt uncomfortable in my own skin for as long as I can remember. I have always been tall. I mean, freakishly tall. And I grew early. I can remember my parents taking me to the doctor because they were worried that something was wrong with me. My first military ID card (issued when I was 10 years old) said I was 5'8. In fifth grade, I was taller than everyone in the school, including all the teachers, except for one sixth grade boy--Joey Wall. I was 6' by the time I was in eighth grade, and grew another inch sometime after that.

On top of that, I was painfully shy. It mortified me to have people stare at me, point, whisper (folks, I'm tall, not deaf), call me the "Jolly Green Giant," and ask, "How's the weather up there?" To have complete strangers come up to me in stores and ask, in awed tones, "Just how tall ARE you???"

As if I were a freak.

As if I AM a freak.

Present tense.

It still happens.

I still get the stares, the whispers. The weirdos in stores who ask me how tall I am.

So, yeah. To say I'm uncomfortable in my own body would be an understatement. And, as if that's not enough, I am one of the few who was born tall and NOT SKINNY. No super modeling for me. No, I think the part-Hawaiian in me really comes out in my body type. I'm solid. I easily put on muscle. If I were a guy, I'd have been a great defensive lineman. Somehow, that body type, my body type, is not admired so much on a woman.

In other words, I've spent all of my life feeling uncomfortable and ashamed of my body, painfully aware of how different I am from what a woman is supposed to be--small. Delicate. Skinny. Sexy.

Consequently, I've spent most of my life searching for the CURE, the way to make myself all of those things that I'm not. Thin. Lithe. Beautiful. Constantly berating myself for not being smaller, faster, lighter.

Always comparing my shortcomings to everyone else.  Her thighs jiggle less than mine. She has smaller arms than I do. Look at how fast she can run. Her butt has more lift. She doesn't get winded as easily as I do.

However, over the past year and a half, I've started to see things differently. My CrossFit journey has helped me to appreciate being STRONG and FIT more than being SKINNY. I am working hard to love and appreciate my body for what it IS, and to stop lamenting what it is NOT.

But it's not easy.

I've got 36 years of media-indoctrination constantly screaming at me, telling me what a woman SHOULD look like, reminding me that I am nothing but a FREAK who is too big to ever have a place on their beauty scale.

Now, I wish I could say that I've had an epiphany and have come to perfectly love and accept my body.

Ha.

But I have had a few breakthroughs.

Last week at CrossFit we were doing strict press and I got a 1 rep PR of 100#.  I was PUMPED!

Then, as I glanced around the room, it occurred to me that I have spent my whole life looking at things from only one angle. I'v been comparing myself to others, lamenting how, no matter how hard I train, I will NEVER be able to run an 8 minute mile (seriously, though, my body just isn't built like that), or be able to do body-weight movements with lightning speed, like some.

And then I realized it.

There are some girls who will NEVER be able to lift 100# over their head in strict press! Because their bodies just aren't built for it.

Wait, WHAT?

You mean, this large-barge body of mine could actually be...a...gasp...ADVANTAGE for some things?!?

Mind...blown!

Here I had been comparing myself to others, when they very well could be comparing themselves to me!

That's when I had my BGO (brilliant glimpse of the obvious). Sometimes, being bigger and taller IS an advantage.

I can lift weights. Heavy weights. I can throw a wall ball without really wondering if it will reach high enough to hit the mark--of course it will. The mark is only a little above where my hands can stretch to on the wall. I can row 500m in under 2 minutes. Not Olympic worthy, but not too shabby.

Now, one BGO compared to 36 years of media indoctrination means that I am FAR from conquering this issue. Everyday it is a struggle to accept and love my body for what it IS, and stop wishing for what it is NOT.

But I am determined to keep fighting.

Fighting to drown out the media. Fighting to let go of unrealistic expectations. Fighting to embrace what IS.

Fighting to be comfortable in my own skin.

One day at a time...

If The Sock Fits...

So, today marks a first for me. In a year and a half of going to CrossFit, this is the first time I have ever attended workouts THREE DAYS IN A ROW!!!

Wahoo!

I usually space my CrossFit workouts throughout the week, generally going Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. A few weeks ago, I decided that I wanted to supplement my workouts and get back into running on non-CrossFit days. I've been having a lot of issues with my left knee and foot, so I wanted to slowly ease back into things. Day after day I would tell myself tomorrow, you're going to get up at 5 am and start walking/jogging. And...day after day, I came up with an excuse not to go.

Ugh.  I can be my own worst enemy sometimes!

So, I was talking to Coach Pete about it, and he recommended that I go unlimited a our CrossFit box--meaning up my membership so I can attend as many classes as I want to each week (I was just going three times/week). At first I was hesitant. In addition to being more money, I just wasn't sure that my body was ready to handle more CrossFit classes!

But Pete had a good point. He said that by working out more at CrossFit, not only would I have a coach who could help me and push me when necessary, but I would have the support of the whole CF community behind me.

I thought about it and decided that Pete was right. So I took the plunge and upgraded my membership.

Today is only Wednesday, and I've already gone to CrossFit THREE TIMES this week!!!

Monday and today were traditional CrossFit WODS, and yesterday I went to the Olympic Lifting Class (Oly Lifting), so I can start working more on my form.

And...guess what.

I plan to go to Oly Lifting again tomorrow, and finish out my week with another traditional CrossFit WOD on Friday.

Eeeeee!

Now, here is the crazy part. I'm doing the Winter Nutrition Challenge, so I'm eating super clean and fueling my body with all the great nutrients that it needs to build muscle and burn fat.  I know this might sound dramatic, but I swear to you, I can actually FEEL MYSELF GETTING STRONGER!

Everyday.

I think I'll wear my BEAST MODE socks tomorrow, because, well, if the sock fits...

Challenge...Accepted

A few weeks ago at CrossFit they started advertising the Winter Nutrition Challenge. Now, I've done CrossFit nutrition challenges before and they are HARD! Seriously! You can actually eat a ton of food, but that food is mostly veggies, a little fruit, some lean meat, and a tiny bit of fat (avocado, coconut oil or almonds). NO sugar, NO carbs, NO legumes, NO sugar, NO dairy, and did I mention, NO sugar???

Anyhow, at first I was thinking NO WAY was I going to PAY someone else to torture me like that.

But it kept coming back to me that I needed to do this challenge. To show my support and solidarity for my CrossFit peeps, to reset my own eating (which has been a STRUGGLE for the past few months), and to prove...well...that I can step up to a Challenge.

So, here I am.

Day 1.

I spent time over the weekend prepping and planning for this. I have 5 salads prepped, ground turkey, chicken, and frozen steam-able bags of broccoli and green beans. I've got Brussell's Sprouts, onions and sweet potatoes ready to roast tonight, and I plan to stop by HEB tonight or tomorrow and grab some shrimp to cook up. I have planned carefully for this week, and after allowing myself one last hurrah of eating this weekend (hellooooo---Super Bowl Party), I am ready for this.

I'm sure I'll be whining and crying about how hard it is in a few days. Detox is a b!tch! Especially for a sugar-addict like me. But it's time to push my body to the next level.

Challenge...accepted!

How Not To Be An Ostrich

About a month ago I finally decided that I needed help (my brothers have been saying this for years, I know). I wanted to get rid of those pesky Extra Pounds (EPs) that I had picked up over the summer. However, despite my best efforts to cook at home and exercise regularly at CrossFit, the stubborn EPs just weren't getting the hint. So, I decided I needed some professional help, and started working with Stephanie, one of my awesome CrossFit Coaches who is also a Nutrition Coach with Strength of Body and Mind. 

When we first met, mid-September, Steph took my weight and measurements and determined the Macros that she wanted me to follow. Each day, I'm supposed to eat exactly the same number of calories consisting of a specific number of grams of Fats, Protein and Carbohydrates.  She encouraged me to use My Fitness Pal to track these things, an app I promptly installed on my phone and iPad.  

Honestly, those first two weeks I was really swamped and didn't take the time to try and figure out how to use My Fitness Pal, or really, how to follow the Macros she had assigned me. And, shockingly (sarcasm), the scale showed no signs of moving. Finally, enough was enough. I sat down, Googled "Macros," started watching YouTube videos, visiting different blogs and websites, and finally started to wrap my mind around what this whole "Macros" thing was all about.  

Here's where things got interesting.

It turns out, that all those healthy meals I had been preparing at home had calories. Lots of calories. They weren't all bad calories. But my Jennie O 93% Lean Ground turkey (6 oz) was 255 calories. Put that together with some chopped black olives (3 TB), black beans (1/2 C), spinach (2 C), cucumber (1 C), tomato (1 Roma), bell pepper (1), egg whites (1 C), feta cheese (1 oz), and vinegar (2 TB) and olive oil (1 TB) and you have a super healthy lunch.  But add those things together and we are talking an 821 calorie salad! 

WHOA!

That's a LOT of calories!!!

The protein shake that I drink with my breakfast (not as a meal replacement), is 230 calories.  Plus my egg whites, oatmeal, sliced almonds, and fruit.  

YIKES!  

I quickly realized that while Steph had given me what seemed like a LOT of calories in my allotted daily Macros, those calories spent themselves mighty quickly, even when I was preparing healthy, nutritious foods.

It occurred to me that I had been living my life like an ostrich--with my head buried in the sand.  I knew that I was eating healthy foods, for the most part, so I didn't really pay attention to portions, and when I had a treat, I just figured that my healthy eating was balancing it out.  

WRONG.

Even healthy foods have calories.  Often, more than you think (protein).  

Initially, I think I suspected that things were not adding up, as I wasn't losing those pesky Extra Pounds that I wanted to get rid of. But for a while, I just didn't want to face the music. Somehow I thought it was better just not knowing the details.  

I don't know why I'm afraid of the details sometimes. Why I fear the very answers that I am looking for. I think it's part of human nature, or at least part of Anela nature, to want to ignore things, because facing the facts means changing our behaviors, and sometimes, I'm just lazy. Tired. Busy. Full of excuses. Sometimes, I just don't want to change.  

But here's the thing.  My mom used to post inspirational quotes on our back door when I was a teenager.  She probably thought we never paid attention, but I remember them.  All of them.  One of them said this: 

If you always do what you've always done, then you'll always get what you've always gotten.

Bam!

If I continued to hide, afraid to find out what I was really eating, then I would keep gaining weight, and continue to be frustrated and unhappy with myself.  

So, I decided to SUCK IT UP, BUTTERCUP (my new motto, by the way), and finally start recording every single thing that I ate (using My Fitness Pal).  

I haven't been perfect at keeping track of things, but I've done a thousand percent better these past few weeks than I did those first two.  

And I've discovered a little secret.  

You can plug your food in a day or two AHEAD OF TIME and play around with different options until you find what is going to best fit your Macros (and your tastes, for that matter).

GAME CHANGER!!!

I'm kind of obsessive about it now, actually.  I'm secretly a data nerd (in addition to being nerdy about all kinds of other things), and have found that I LOVE plugging in my food and trying to get as close to my Macros as possible without going over my numbers. Also, I now meticulously check food labels to try and get as much bang as possible for my calorie "buck."  I looked at at least a dozen different brands of Greek Yogurt before I settled on the HEB brand 100 calorie cups, because they have 0 Fat, 10 Carbs and 13 Protein (you'd be surprised at how much the Fat, Carbs and Protein varied for different brands). Since I have a hard time fulfilling my daily Protein Macros, I try to find things that are high in Protein and have little or no Fat and Carbs, like HEB Greek Yogurt and egg whites.  

Oh man.  Egg whites are my new best friend.  I eat them in oatmeal, salads, veggie stir frys, and sometimes just by themselves with a little salsa on top. Mmmmmm. Yummy. So much Protein, NO Fat, and a tiny amount of Carbs. If I could buy stock in egg whites, I would.  

Anyhow, I feel empowered now, knowing exactly what I am eating and where all of my calories come from. And honestly, it does make it easier for me to resist temptations. I can better plan for things like going out to dinner with friends. I make better choices (got the Turkey Burger the other night at Carl's Junior because it had 490 calories compared to the 880 calories in the Guacamole Bacon Burger that I really wanted to get). I can have that Fun sized packet of M&Ms, as long as I plan for it and reserve 3 grams of Fat and 10 grams of Carbs in my daily Macros.  

Now that my head isn't buried in the sand anymore, I've seen some other things as well. Like the numbers on the scale, finally starting to go down.

:-)

Counting the Costs

I have had a lot of leisure time this summer to reflect on my life--what's going well, and what needs to be re-shaped. It's been a great summer, filled with thousands of miles on the road, visits to family and friends, cruising with Disney to the Bahamas, and, much to my chagrin, picking up some unwanted stowaways--several Extra Pounds (EPs) that seem to have attached themselves to my stomach, butt and thighs.

Really, what did I expect. 

I went from a spring of working out at CrossFit 3 times/week and cooking mostly at home (a diet rich in veggies and lean meat, fruit and nuts, with only an occasional indulgence of M&Ms or ice cream), to eating out every day on the road and not exercising at all.

Sometimes, I'm a bit delusional.  

I get the idea in my silly little head that one of these days, magically, my body and metabolism are going to POOF! shift and I'm going to suddenly be able to eat whatever I want without gaining any weight or losing any muscle.

Ha.

In my dreams.

I am not Rich Froning.  

I need to face the facts.  

I will ALWAYS, EVERY SINGLE DAY have to monitor each morsel of food that passes through my lips.    

That is never, EVER going to change.

Pardon me while I sit here and pout a little bit. Shake my fist at the sky and ask, "Why, God?  Why will it always have to be so hard for me?" Cry over the M&Ms that I love so much. Mourn for all the Sonic Milkshakes that I will not get to consume. Throw myself on the floor in a tantrum over the Gummy Bears and Cinnamon cake at Sprouts that I will have to ignore every time I go shopping.

It sucks.

Let me just take a moment to own the fact that it really, really sucks.  

A lot.

I love food. I don't just eat to live. I live to eat. Food has always brought me immense joy. It's a huge part of my identity, of who I am.  

But...there is a cost for my indulgence.  

Eating whatever I want, whenever I want, will result in a body that I am not willing to live with. Already, these EPs that I've picked up over the past two months are costing me way too much--clothes that don't fit comfortably, slower WOD times, more pressure on my joints, and, most upsetting, the erosion of my self-confidence.  

As much as I love food, it's time for me to face the music: I CANNOT afford these EPs.  In any way.

Financially--I don't have the money to run out and buy a whole new wardrobe because my clothes are too small.

Physically--I can seriously FEEL how much more my body is having to work to carry around these extra EPs. My CF times are slower. Everything is harder. My joints hurt more. No bueno.

Emotionally--I hate how carrying these EPs around is making me less sure of myself.  I am more shy, and less inclined to be social. All because I don't like the way that I look.  

Mentally--Carrying around these EPs makes me dread working out, because I know it's going to be challenging. Which, along with my eroded self-confidence, means I'm not pushing myself as hard when I do exercise. 

So...it's time to pay the Piper. I had my fun. A summer of indulging, of not thinking about what I was eating.

The cost now is that I have to be super conscious of every single bite of food that goes in my mouth. No more "moderation." Nope, the price of my indulgence is that I have to be super strict about my diet, and exercise more than ever in order to lose these pesky EPs.  

I will do it.

I have to.

But the cost...

Next time I see a bag of M&Ms, or drive by Sonic, I need to remember that right now, these treats are out of my caloric price range, and that the cost, the EPs, simply aren't worth it.  

CrossFit Prayer

CrossFit Prayer

By Anela Wenger

Now I lay me down to CrossFit,

I pray the Lord I just won’t quit.

If I should fail to get a PR,

I pray at least to lift the bar,

And thrust and jerk and clean and press,

And kettle bell swing ‘til I’m a mess. 

Then jump up on a 20” box,

Show off my knee-high Rx socks.

And do a snatch or two at least,

Hear my coach yell “you’re a BEAST!”

Now 80 wall balls, squats, pull-ups,

Clock is ticking—time’s almost up.

Let’s do a TABATA, some double-unders,

Who made this workout—Satan? I wonder.

I think it just can’t get any more “fun,”

Then Coach says, “rest” on a half-mile run.

My legs are Jell-O, my arms are on fire,

Could the step onto the curb be any higher?

My body wants to take a nap,

But I just want to finish this AMRAP!

At last, there’s a beep; it’s over now,

I’m still alive—but not sure how.

Collapsed onto a stinky mat,

I leave some sweat marks where I sat.

Now, awful as that hour was,

My brain gets warped and full of fuzz.

For with the “good nights” and “later, bro,”

I suddenly shout out, “See you tomorrow!”

Now I lay me down to WOD,

And pray it doesn’t kill my bod.

If I should die before I wake,

That’s one less rep I’ll have to make.

Baby Got Back...My Journey Towards Developing a CrossFit Booty

Funny how history repeats itself.

I have talked several times on this blog about how I have hesitated to call myself a "runner," because I don't embody the lithe, fast, lean figure that most people associate with that word. When someone thinks of a runner, they do NOT think of a chubby girl lumbering along at a 13-minute mile pace. And yet, a runner I am (or have been in the past).

Well, when I joined CrossFit back in September (2013), I didn't tell anyone (except my family and the few friends who had been bugging me FOREVER to join).

Why not?

Because I was embarrassed.

I knew that people would hear CrossFit and think of a buff girl with defined biceps, a nice round booty and a body-fat percentage in the teens. They would take one look at my pudgy figure, flat butt, jiggly arms, and inability to do even a single regular push-up and think I was joking.

So I hid my CrossFitting, like it was a dirty little secret.

Even at my CrossFit box, I was hesitant and shy--everyone else seemed to be light-years ahead of me in terms of strength and endurance. And while I'm sure none of them were judging me, I was certainly judging myself. I kept comparing what I was doing to what everyone else was doing, so of course, I was coming up short. My lack of confidence made it hard for me to get to know people, at first.

Then I remembered my blog. I remembered going through this very same thing with running--hesitating to really embrace and identify with the sport.

Over the Christmas Holiday, I spent a lot of time reflecting on where I was in life, and where I wanted to be. My birthday came and went. Maybe it was getting a year older that helped me to finally say...

To HELL with what other people think.

My fitness journey is MY journey.  I don't have to fit into any mold or cookie-cutter of OTHER PEOPLE'S expectations.  This is about ME.  Not them.

It felt so liberating to say, in effect, SCREW everyone else.

My attitude changed.

I really began to savor and enjoy my time at my CrossFit box. I started talking to people there. I tried to be really present in workouts, focusing on improving my form and pushing myself to work harder each time. I set some CrossFit goals for this year and am actively working towards them.

So, a few months ago, we ordered sweatshirts for our CrossFit box that have our name and logo on them. I will be honest--I hadn't worn mine outside of the house, because I didn't want to judged by people who would wonder why someone with a body like mine would be wearing CrossFit gear. I was ashamed of myself, not feeling worthy to be associated with CrossFit. I was afraid to share my dirty little CrossFit secret with everyone, unwilling to face their scrutiny.

Last week, for the first time, I worse my CrossFit sweatshirt in public.

I'm not going to lie--it felt GOOD.

I AM a CrossFitter.  I have done the AMRAPs, Burpees, EMOMS, and TABATAs to prove it.  I may not be the fastest, strongest, leanest, or buff-est, but I most definitely AM a CrossFit Athlete.

PS.  One of the goals that I'm working on is to get the BOOTY to prove it!

On Drinking the Cross-Fit Kool-Aid...or should I say Paleo-Friendly Coconut Water

Two blog posts in a row?  I know.  I'm on a roll!

So, I've heard about the "CrossFit" cult for a while. In fact, I have several friends who have been trying to get me to try it out for the past few years.

Honestly, I was worried about it because my eating/drinking capabilities were so limited with my Lap-Band that I was afraid to work out. I worried that I wouldn't be able to drink enough to replenish my fluids.

So, in September, 1 1/2 months post-surgery I finally decided to drink the Kool-Aid/Coconut Water that everyone had been talking about.

I joined Fidelis CrossFit.

And my life changed forever.

I am not going to lie.  The first few weeks I thought, on several different occasions, that I was going to die.  I haven't hurt that badly since high school track practice. Seriously! My whole body hurt. Muscles I didn't even know that I HAD hurt!

It was hard.

One of the biggest challenges for me was realizing that I had basically been malnourished for well over a year and seriously malnourished for the past 6 months, with the severe restrictions that my Lap-Band put on my eating abilities.  My body had lost a LOT of nutrients, so working out was so, so SO difficult!

But I kept at it.

I'm not going to lie.  It was humiliating for me to suck so badly at something, or should I say, everything.  I mean, I'm a pretty strong person.  Always have been.  But after a year or two without proper nutrition, I hadn't even realized how much muscle and strength I had lost. Until I started CrossFit.  Everything was hard.  I had to scale the scaled things that others were doing.  I couldn't even do straight knee-pushups...I had to snake my way up to my knees.  It was honestly shocking how weak I had gotten.

But, I kept at it.  We had a nutrition challenge at our CrossFit Box that I, foolishly, signed up for.

Talk about a mistake!  ;-)

We were on a super-strict Paleo-Zone meal plan.  It was horrible!  You see, since all I could eat the last year or so with my Lap-Band was super processed food and candy, I had gotten myself quite a sweet tooth. And there was no sugar/processed food allowed during the challenge.

I tried to follow the meal plans, but ended up "cheating" often, and not really giving it 100% effort.  Then, near the end of the challenge, I got sick with a horrible cough/cold and wasn't able to work out.  So I just kind of dropped the nutrition challenge.

After that, it was the holidays.  My parents came to visit for Thanksgiving, things were crazy at work during December, and before I knew it, I was heading home to AZ for the Christmas holidays, only having made it to one or two CrossFit classes.

And then a terrible thing happened.

My pants started shrinking in the washer.

My shirts too.

I was reaching a crisis point in my health journey--either stand up and DO SOMETHING about it, or buy bigger clothes.

So, I decided to give CrossFit a REAL try.

I've been going 2x/week for the past month, ever since I got back from the holidays. And while I still have to scale EVERYTHING, I have seen some real improvements in my strength and endurance. I noticed a few weeks ago that push-ups were getting easy...too easy. So I switched from doing knee push-ups to snaking my way all the way into a full push-up.  It takes me longer to do them this way, but I don't care. I'm just thrilled to be moving up to a slightly less-scaled version than what I first started with.  

In addition, I have stopped weighing myself. I know that my body is undergoing some major changes right now, and that I very well may still be gaining weight, both muscle and fat. I don't want those numbers to discourage me. For now, I am going to measure my success by how I feel and how my clothes fit.

I also know that getting healthy this way, the right way, is going to take a long time. I'm not going to drop 10 lbs in a week (like I did sometimes with the Lap-Band). But I know that if I stick with it, this is a lifestyle that will keep me healthy and fit for the rest of my years on this earth.

Yes, there is a lot of controversy out there about CrossFit.  You need to do your homework and check out different boxes before you commit to one. But when you DO find the right box (gym, for all you non-CrossFit-ers), it will CHANGE YOUR LIFE!

I have met some AMAZING people at my box. My coaches are awesome. Pete and Steph push me and won't let me wimp out or try and go too easy. Felipe and Liz are super helpful and motivating. I have also met some of the genuinely nicest and most encouraging people of my life. Everyone is friendly. They all cheer each other on throughout the workout. We are truly family at Fidelis CrossFit, and I'm happy to be a part of it.

CrossFit is more than just an exercise program. It's a way of living, eating, exercising, cooking, shopping, socializing, viewing the world. It may not be for everyone, but it most definitely IS for me!

CrossFit isn't just a way of life.

CrossFit IS my life.

Coming Clean About a Lot of Things

This post has been on my mind for a while, but it's taken me a long time to (begin to) come to grips with some of the blessings and challenges I have faced over the past few years.  I am finally ready to lay it all out, as humiliating as some parts are for me.  I just hope someone out there gets something from this.

On January 18, 2010, I began a new life.  I was very overweight (okay, grossly obese would be a better term) at that point, so I went in for surgery and had a Lap-Band put in.  That day I vowed to change my life by eating healthier and exercising regularly.  The day after my surgery, I started going on walks around my apartment complex.  Three weeks later, when I was cleared by my doctor, I began the Couch to 5K training program in preparation for my first 5K.

I ran a half marathon in November 2010, and another in January 2012. Slowly but surely, the weight came off and I got my life back. I gained confidence. I started to actually LIKE shopping for clothes. I dated. I was happier than I had been in a long time. Things seemed to be finally going my way.

Last summer (2013), I was in Arizona visiting family and friends, just moments away from losing 100 lbs when my world came crashing down on me.  I spent two days unable to keep down any food or water, and when I went to the hospital, I was told that my Lap-Band had slipped and they would have to remove it. This was 3 days before I was planning to drive back to Texas.

I cried.

I was rude and angry to the nursing staff.

I cried.

I begged the doctors not to remove it.

I cried.

I was mean to my mom (who was kind enough to be by my side in the emergency room and during this whole ordeal).

I cried more..

My precious weight loss, my new body, everything that I had worked so patiently for, was slipping through my fingers.

I was terrified.  Terrified of gaining weight, of having my "little helper" taken away.  And I was angry.  SO ANGRY.  SO VERY ANGRY!

Why did this have to happen to me?  Isn't it bad enough that I struggle with my weight?  Now I have to become one of the "complications with the Lap-Band" statistics?  It just didn't seem fair!!!

Now, I do need to clue you in on some things before I tell you the rest of the story.

I loved having a Lap-Band. I still think that they are wonderful tools, and I would be happy to talk to anyone considering having weight-loss surgery. Getting a Lap-Band was one of the best decisions I have ever made. But it came with a price. As my Lap-Band got tighter and tighter, I began to throw up more and more. Even though I would chew my food like crazy, my body became unable to tolerate many foods--most meats, breads, fruit and veggies, yogurt. I could eat crackers or chips, candy, a few odds and ends, but my options were limited. And it became essentially impossible for me to eat while sitting down--I guess my insides pressed on the band in a bad way when I was in a seated position. I would have to take a bite of food and walk around. Wait 5-10 minutes. Take another bite. And I still threw up a lot--several times a day, because my food would get "stuck" and wouldn't be able to go past the band. So the only other option was to come up.

I know. You're thinking--that's horrible! Why didn't you tell your doctor?

Why? Because, frankly, I was willing to pay that price to be the size that I was. I wanted to lose weight, and by jove, I lost it.

So, back to last August when I'm in the hospital, on vacation, being told that I have to have emergency surgery.  Not only did I not want to PAY for another surgery, I didn't want to lose my Lap-band. But in the end, I didn't have a choice. They removed it. And my new life, my post-Lap-Band life began.

It hasn't been easy.

The first few weeks, I was ravenous.  But what surprised me more than the hunger was the THIRST!  I was THIRSTY all the time!  So very, very thirsty.  I honestly was probably drinking 2-3 GALLONS of water every day.  I'm serious.  I would pee every half an hour.  Wake up 4-5 times at night to pee.  It was crazy.  I thought I was going insane.

When I got back to Texas and saw my doctor here, he was mad too that they removed my band.  He also told me that my insane thirst and endless hunger were normal--that my body had been restricted for 3 1/2 years and now it was going to fight back.  We talked briefly about other weight-loss surgeries, but at that time, I was too thin to qualify for any of them. Plus, I didn't want to pay all the money for YET ANOTHER surgery. So I told him that I was going to try and keep it off myself.

The pounds started creeping back on at an alarming rate.

But I discovered some good things too. I could eat again. I could eat fruit and veggies again. You have no idea how much I had missed eating salad!  I could eat meat--chicken and shrimp had never tasted so good! I could sit down and eat. I could go to a restaurant and not have to excuse myself 2-3 times to go barf in the bathroom, or worry that the food would come up before I could get to the bathroom. I could drink water while I was driving somewhere (couldn't eat or drink ANYTHING in the car during the later end of my Lap-Band time).

And I didn't throw up anymore.

I started getting adventurous at the grocery store. I began exploring new vegetables--Brussell's Sprouts (have always hated them and now LOVE them), different types of squash, kale, etc. I bought a Vitamix Blender and started making green smoothies.

The pounds still kept coming back.

But I realized a few things. That for me, the Lap-Band was giving me a false-positive. Yes, I was losing weight. But I wasn't losing it the right way, the healthy way. I was losing weight because I could hardly eat or drink anything. I was losing fat but I was also losing muscle. My body was in survival mode, fighting for every calorie it could get.

That wasn't healthy. I wasn't healthy. I was thinner that I've been in a long time, but I wasn't healthy at all. I realize that now.

Now, I'm not saying that this is how it is for everyone with a Lap-Band. I know plenty of other people who have been able to continue to eat fruits and vegetable and lean proteins with their Lap-Bands. But I wasn't. Which is why my emergency surgery turned out to be a blessing in disguise.


So, I feel like I'm starting back at the beginning. Embarking on a NEW journey, to get healthy the old-fashioned way--by exercising and eating right.  I no longer have a "helper" that tells me I'm full after eating only a small amount of food. I have to make conscious choices, measure things, and think before I eat.

And I am now, once again, focused on getting to a size/weight that I am comfortable with.

Let the (healthy) journey begin...

Running Schizophrenic

Lately, I've been hearing voices in my head.  A lot.  Sadly, they don't tell me really useful things like where the treasure is buried or which stock to invest in to make millions.  No.  I hear NEGATIVE NELLIE voices.  They say terrible things about me...You run too slow.  Why bother going at all...you're never going to get in shape. It's too early to run.  Just stay in bed and relax.  Running is for skinny people...no one wants to see your chubs out there huffing and puffing.  Give up now.  It's too hard. Things are never going to change...

I'm not sure where these voices have come from, as I have a fairly confident sense of self (or at least, I thought I did).  However, they have taken up residence in my head, and frankly, they are really starting to tick me off!

It's been a crazy month with school starting up again, and I am putting in crazy long hours at work but desperately trying to keep a balance in my life by exercising regularly.  I might be tired sometimes but I am still enjoying the energy-boost afterglow of having had the summer off, so there really isn't any physical excuse not to go running.  It's all mental.

I hear voices in my head.

And I need to get rid of them.

For some odd reason, 34 years into my life on earth, 9 years into my career, over a decade of living on my own, and suddenly, these voices are making me doubt myself, question my gumption, wonder about my resolve.

The other day, after berating myself for not exercising enough during the week, I managed to get out of bed fairly early on a Saturday morning (6:30 am).  The voices told me to go back to bed, that it was too hot and muggy for a run and I didn't have it in me that morning.  I had barely set foot out the door before the voices began complaining terribly.  It was a typical sweltering Texas Saturday morning so the voices urged me to turn back, take a shorted route, return home quickly and find solace in the cool air conditioning of my apartment and the Blue Bell Ice Cream waiting so patiently for me in the freezer.  I usually run at 5 am, so I don't often get to see the sun rise while I'm exercising.  But that morning, I noticed something.  The higher the sun rose, and the more I squinted and perspired, the QUIETER the NEGATIVE NELLIE voices got.

By mile 2, the voices were a hot, sweating, whimpering mess, and by mile 3, they had shut up completely!

During the last mile and a half of my walk, some new thoughts entered my head, Positive Polly thoughts congratulating me on getting out and exercising, marveling at how good it felt to push my body, smiling at how bright and beautiful the world felt that morning.  My new-found confidence was brimming.

I was myself again.

Now, I'd like to tell you that I got rid of those NEGATIVE NELLIE voices once and for all, but not two days later they were back, creeping into my thoughts, whispering reminders of my failures and shortcomings, causing me to question myself. Annoyed, I tried to push them away but the harder I pushed, the louder they got, until they were practically screaming my fears and doubts, completely drowning out the Positive Polly thoughts that I had found just a few days ago.

Apparently, the only way to get rid of my NEGATIVE NELLIE voices is to SWEAT them out.  So, off I went for a run again.  I ran, and ran, and ran.  I ran until those sweaty, overheated NEGATIVE NELLIE voices shut up and I was myself again, with the Positive Polly thoughts cheering me on.

There are a lot of reasons that I run.

Running is hard for me.  Every.  Single.  Time.  I am not a natural runner. I am not a fast runner. I never will be.  But I run anyway.

I run to silence the NEGATIVE NELLIE voices.

Because running through my own internal "schizophrenia" is how I find myself.

You Know You're Crazy, I mean, a Runner, when...

So, I'm back.  After a loooong hiatus, of both running and writing, I am back.  Why?  Because I just can't stay away.  From either.

Now, I know a lot of people out there hate running.  It's hot.  Boring.  Time consuming.  Sweaty.  Mindless.  Mundane.  Something to avoid at all costs.  

But I have a secret.  A shameful secret.  One that will shock many of you, cause others to roll their eyes, and just plain annoy some.

I LOVE RUNNING!

I'm talking full blown, no-holds-barred, unashamed, heart-body-and-soul, with every fiber of my being LOVE running.  Imagine hearing elementary school yard sing-song kids saying, "If you love running so much, why don't you marry it???"  Let me tell you, if could marry running, I WOULD!  Why?  Because nothing shy of my testimony of my Savior Jesus Christ brings me the level of inner peace, serenity, mental clarity, emotional stability and just pure happiness as running does.

So, my family, friends, and former roommates can all attest to the fact that I am in no way, shape, or form, a morning person.  I hate waking up--don't even think about trying to talk to me until I've brushed my teeth and been awake for at least an hour.  Yet, lately I have found myself waking up at the unearthly hour of 4:50 am with a SMILE on my face.  

Literally.  

I.  Wake.  Up.  Smiling!  

Who does that?  I mean, besides mentally unstable people, or folks who live in specials institutions where the walls are padded and they have special jackets that zip up in the back.

I do.  Why?  Because I'm so excited to go running.  Because my body can't wait to be physically pushed and my mind can't wait for time to process my thoughts, feelings and ideas.  I crave it.  I wake up 10 minutes before my alarm is set to go off.  My body absolutely cannot wait to get moving.  

It's INSANE, I know!

But instead of trying to fight it, to roll over and try and go back to sleep, to force the feeling away, to lose myself in other things, I have decided to EMBRACE MY CRAZY and own it.  

I am a RUNNER.

I don't run fast.  I walk and run, and sometimes my "runs" consists of far more walking than running.  I don't run every single day, every single week, or even every single month.  I've gone through periods of running and periods of not running.  But, though it may take days, weeks or even months, I always come back to RUNNING.  Why?

Because I am crazy a RUNNER.   

  

And that's just how I roll.  

I thought calories didn't count on vacation...

So, I've been on "Summer Break" for 6 weeks now.  I started this summer off with my cousin coming to visit me in Houston.  Of course, I had to show her all the best that Houston has to offer--BBQ from Goode and Company, Gyros from Niko Nikos, Blue Bell Ice Cream (I always keep some in my freezer), and my personal favorite: The Chocolate Bar.  I told myself--you're on vacation.  Enjoy yourself.  And so, I did.

Then, my cousin and I headed down to Corpus Christi to meet my family for some deep-sea fishing.  We went out for sea food one day, celebrated my dad's birthday with ice cream from Baskin Robins, and of course, feasted on the homemade cookies that I had brought to share with everyone on the trip.

After that, we were headed out in my car for the 1200 mile drive to Houston.  We had a blast, singing along with our tunes, sharing stories, laughing as we relived family times of the past.  And of course, when we stopped in Las Cruces for the night, we had to get some of the local New Mexican cuisine.  A dinner at La Posta Mesilla was everything we could have hoped for and more.  We stuffed ourselves with chile relleno, tamales, enchiladas, and more.  It was absolutely heavenly.

When we finally got to Arizona, where I am spending my summer, I had to hit up all my old favorite restaurants.  So, slowly, over the past several weeks, I've patroned Tia Rosa's, Costa Vida, Aloha Kitchen, Sweetcakes, Mango's, Trader Joe's and more.

This morning, when I got on the scale, I had a rude awakening.  All those calories are finally starting to catch up to me; my "muffin top" has been getting a little more "muffin-y."

HOLY SMOKES!?!

I thought you didn't have to count calories when you were on vacation!!!

How did I let this happen?

Well, it all started when I let my "vacation mode" take over reality.  You see, it's okay to indulge sometimes. On occasion, you can have that ice cream sundae, the chips and salsa, the cheese fries, the greasy burger.  It's when your "occasion" starts becoming a daily occurrence that you start to have problems.  I've also noticed that once you let yourself get into "indulgence mode," you actually stop appreciating the food that you have; you stop really tasting it and enjoying it.  You get caught up in the emotion of it and you let that take over.  You stop eating because you're hungry and you need fuel.  Instead, you eat to feel that emotion again.

I can see why people become drug addicts. There is something wonderful about letting go of yourself and letting your emotions take over--the need to "feel good" that food (or drugs) can bring.  Something so freeing about giving the control to the substance--be it heroin or ice cream, marijuana or fettuccine alfredo.

What sucks is coming back to reality--and having to face the music.  Knowing that you've just consumed WAY more calories than is necessary; having your clothes feel tighter the next morning, your arms feel more jiggly and less toned, watching the scale numbers jump up, higher and higher.

I have fallen off the BAND WAGON these past 6 weeks.  And enough is enough!  I am not on "vacation" anymore!  You can't be in "vacation" eating mode when your vacation is TWO MONTHS LONG!  It doesn't matter that I am about to head out to NYC and San Francisco, two cities with some of the most amazing food in the world.  My life is not "vacation mode." My life is MODERATION in ALL things.  Regular exercise.  Control.  I need to be in control, and not let the "feel good" emotions take over. I need to count calories, pay attention to portion sizes, and learn to say no.  I can enjoy life without eating every single bite of delicious food that I come across.

Instead of "say no to drugs," my motto for the next few weeks is going to be "say no to bread and sugar."  I'm not saying I will never eat bread or any form of sugar again.  That would be absurd.  But I am saying that I need to keep my distance, reacquaint myself with my good buddies "fruit, vegetables, and chewing gum" to stave off those hunger pangs.  After all, this is my LIFE, not just my vacation.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I just saw the BAND WAGON turning left at the corner.  I'm going to have to run to catch it, but it's about time I jumped back on...

Wanted: One Fairy Godmother...

So, because my name is Anela, I'm the only girl in my family, have three brothers, and consequently, got stuck doing the bulk of the cooking and cleaning when I was a kid, my family has jokingly referred to me as "Cinder-Anela" for many years now.  I am totally okay with this nickname; I just wish it came with the Fairy Godmother, Handsome Prince, beautiful dress, awesome shoes, and domestic rodents to help a girl out when she gets behind on her chores...

So, I've been thinking a lot about the story of Cinderella this week.  Especially the part about the Fairy Godmother.  I like that part.  Who doesn't? She comes along with her magic wand, sings "bippity, boppity boo" and BAM!  Cinderella has a fabulous one-of-a-kind dress, killer designer shoes, and a sweet ride to the Ball.

Last week I blogged about being a WINNER or a WHINER.  I had this great epiphany about exercising and life, wrote it all down, and was totally pumped to start living my new life as a WINNER.  I got up Monday morning, bright and early, and went running.  WINNER.  I got up Wednesday morning, bright and early, and went running.  WINNER again!  Friday morning...I hit the snooze button and went back to sleep. Uh oh.  I was back to being a WHINER.  Saturday morning...same thing.  Sleep.  No running.  WHINER again!  How could I have lost my motivation when it was so strong earlier in the week?!?

So, instead of simply getting out of bed and getting moving, I laid there, wishing for a Fairy Godmother who would come and bestow upon me the desire to run, who would magically transform my jiggly body to a super-toned running machine, who would give me energy to wake in the wee sma's of the morning, make me resistant to the heat of the summer, and basically, force my lazy butt out on the road.  I mean, really.  Having a Fairy Godmother would totally take the pressure off of me.  My only job would be to lay around and be...deserving.  And she would come along and do all the work and transform me into my dream--a RUNNER.  A WINNER.

Then I started thinking more about the movie.  More about Cinderella's life.  Here she was, stuck doing all the chores while her step-mother and step-sisters lazed around all day.  In fact, before the Fairy Godmother had come along to help her out, Cinderella has washed the floors, done the laundry, and finished all of the other cleaning and such.  All on her own (well, with a little bit of help from the mice).  The Fairy Godmother only came along after Cinderella's cruel step-mother and step-sisters had robbed her of her dress to wear to the ball--AFTER Cinderella had done all that she could to fulfill her own dream.

So, I guess the Fairy Godmother didn't do that much work, after all.  All along, it was Cinderella who put in the time and effort, day in and day out.  She worked for years before she finally got her Happily Ever After with Prince Charming.  She spent much of her life working to become the woman who the Prince fell in love with.  Her dream was all her own.  The Fairy Godmother just came along and spruced her up so she was ready to find her place in her new life.

I've learned a lot from Cinderella.

This morning, my alarm went off only three and a half hours after I had gone to sleep.  Of all days, this was one where I could have found justification in hitting snooze and going back to sleep.  And yet, I didn't.  I got up, get my gear on, and went out for a run.  The combination of the heat (it was already 90º outside at 5:30 am) and my sleep deprivation resulted in what was not my best run, by far.  But I went.  I toughed it out.  This morning, I was a WINNER.


As I ran, I thought about all of these things. I realized that no Fairy Godmother is coming to wave her magic wand and "make" me into a RUNNER.  If I want to be a RUNNER, then, by jove, I'm going to have to get out there and make it happen.  Like Cinderella, I'm going to have to work day in and day out for years.  I'm going to have to make it happen in spite of the "step-mothers" and "step-sisters" of the world who will think that being a RUNNER is not something I can achieve.  

While I am still far from being a perfect WINNER, and have plenty of WHINER days, I am proud of the fact that, in spite of my WHINING moments, I keep coming back to the desire to get out there and run.  I may go for days, weeks, or even months without running.  But I keep coming back to it.  I keep finding myself wanting to be a RUNNER.  This brings to mind a quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson.  He said, "That which we persist in doing becomes easier for us to do; not that the nature of the thing itself has changed, but that our power to do is increased."

And so, I persist.  As often as I can.  I work each day to try and overcome mental and physical blocks;  I lace up my shoes and I go run.

One of these days, maybe my Fairy Godmother will show up.  But I hope she finds an empty house...because that will mean that I'm out for a run.  Cinder-Anela.  Taking control of my own destiny.

Winner or Whiner?

Okay, so I've been slacking in my life a LOT lately. Haven't been blogging. Haven't been running. What I HAVE been doing, however, is eating like crazy--filling my body with food to distract me from facing the hard and fast truth: Right now, I am a WHINER!

Yep.

You read that right.

WHINER!!!

I've been saying for months that I'm going to start running again. First, I was too busy with work. WHINER. Then, I got really sick and had a cough for weeks. WHINER. Then, I was getting ready to vacation with my family. After that, I was driving to Arizona for the summer. Then, 4 days after getting to Arizona, I was in a minor car accident, and while I was fine, my poor car was totaled. WHINER. So I was stressed about getting a new car. WHINER. Then, I was busy doing stuff with family. WHINER. It's too hot outside. WHINER. I'm tired and want to sleep in. WHINER. Everyday I wake up and make an excuse for why I can't/shouldn't/don't want to run. And trust me, many of my excuses were legitimate obstacles--getting in a car accident? Have a cough that caused me to hack uncontrollable and get short of breath just walking? Triple-Digit temperatures??

And then I started thinking about it. I remember a few months ago that my excuses for not going running included temps that were too cold, or too much rain. And, as I've reflected on things the past few days, I've realized (again), that there is always going to be an excuse NOT TO RUN. There will always be uncomfortable temperatures, work stresses, life, family obligations, lack of sleep, and countless other circumstances that I can legitimately site as reasons NOT TO RUN. That's what being a WHINER is all about. It's about looking at the cards you've been dealt and complaining that they aren't fair. WHINERS see only the obstacles. WHINERS are victims of their circumstances. WHINERS cry. WHINERS mumble excuses. WHINERS let life pass them by.

WHINERS ANNOY THE HELL OUT OF ME!

So how in the world did I become one?!?!?

Okay, before I move forward, let me sidetrack just a bit. I decided a while ago that I was going to sign up for the FULL MARATHON in Houston this year. I've run two half marathons and really want to run a FULL Marathon, so I figured now was the time to do it, when I'm relatively young and in good health. Running a FULL is on my Bucket List, and I really, REALLY want to be able to cross it off. So, I decided to sign up for Houston. For those of you who don't know, the Houston Marathon is a lottery run--more people want to run than they allow, so you put your name in and see if you get "drawn" or not. Well, a few weeks ago I put my name in, rather half-heartedly (since I haven't run in months), thinking "If I'm really meant to run a FULL, then I'll get drawn. But if I don't then I can use the lottery system as my excuse for not doing it (WHINER MENTALITY ALL THE WAY--blame someone else)."

Well, much to my surprise (shock? fear? trepidation?), I was ACTUALLY DRAWN and am in the FULL MARATHON! I found that out 5 days ago and guess how much training I've done since then. ZERO. ZILCH. NADA. Why? Because I have still been in WHINER MODE, instead of putting myself in WINNER MODE.

What is a WINNER?

Well, according to Merriam-Webster online, a WINNER is "one that is successful especially through praiseworthy ability and hard work." In other words, a WINNER is someone who decides they want something and then WORKS UNTIL THEY GET IT! A WINNER will find a way to train, even when it's hot outside, whether that means getting up at 4am or running on a boring old treadmill. A WINNER will MAKE IT HAPPEN. A WINNER will go to bed early in anticipation of oh-dark-thirty runs. A WINNER will schedule time to train and will treat that time with the same responsibility and importance as one would treat work or family or church responsibilities. A WINNER surrounds herself with positive forces--supportive family and friends, well-functioning equipment, training plans, healthy food and nutrition information, proper clothes, encouraging thoughts, upbeat music--all to keep her focused on her goal, to push her forward.

A WINNER makes changes. Changes to her schedule, her diet, her spending habits (to afford the proper gear for running). A WINNER recognizes that anything really worthwhile in life is going to require sacrifice and a WINNER is willing to make those sacrifices--time, sleep, money and calories--in order to reach her goal.

A WINNER faces the same challenges and obstacles as a WHINER. But a WINNER will run, walk, or crawl until she gets to the end. A WINNER refuses to make excuses, to let the obstacles define her. A WINNER makes things happen.

I don't know what has happened to me in the past few days, but something has changed. Maybe it took having the "H" scared out of me (lol--that's my cheeky little pun), but I am tired of being a WHINER.

I have decided that I am going to be a WINNER instead!

I have 196 days to get myself in shape. It's going to be hard. It's going to hurt. I'm going to be at various time sore, grouchy, sweaty, tired, hungry and annoyed. But also know that there will be times where I feel confident, strong, cheerful, fit and perseverant.

Look for me on January 13, 2013 at the FINISH LINE--I'll be there, with the other WINNERS!

Running and Mormonism

So, I figured what better way to start off 2012 than to (finally) post a new blog. This post is going to be about some epiphanies I have had while running in the wee hours of the morning--mainly some connections that I have found between running and my faith. I know, I know. You thought this was only going to be a fitness blog (me too). But, guess what. I can write whatever I want to. So here goes.

About 2 years ago, I started running. I was seriously overweight and out of shape, so I started by using the Couch-to-5K running podcast, and after just a few short months, ran my first ever 5K race. I was slow, but I met my goal of running the entire 3.1 miles, hills and all. I was hooked! I bought a bunch of running gear, subscribed to Runner's World Magazine, and started training for a 1/2 marathon. Still, though I was faithfully running 2-3 times a week, I hesitated to call myself a "runner." In my mind, "runners" are people who hop out off bed every morning, thrilled to be able to hit the road before the sun rises, have long, graceful limbs, free of the fat and cellulite that plagues us mere mortals, and they can run (without tripping) smoothly for hours on end, without breaking a sweat, needing to hydrate, stopping to use the restroom, etc. I beat myself up thinking that I would never be one of THEM, as my stride would better be classified as a shuffle, sweat routinely pours down my face (even in the bitterest of cold mornings), and I find myself asking, about 73 times/minute, why in the world I thought it was a good idea to leave my comfy bed to trip along on the sidewalk, constantly on guard against the snakes, skunks and alligators that I am POSITIVE are stalking my path.

Well, in an attempt to keep this from being the longest blog post in the universe, let me sum up some things that I have come to learn about running over these 2 years. First, and most important, running is an ATTITUDE, not a speed, body shape, finishers medal, super wampadine watch or even a Personal Record (PR). I am a runner because, (at least on some days), I go out and run. It doesn't matter how far I run--whether it's 10 steps or 10 miles. I am a runner simply because I run. I choose to leave the warmth (or, in the summer, the refreshing coolness) of my apartment and I go out there and push my body. Now, if you've ever seen me running, you might be thinking "I'm pretty sure that I can walk on my hands faster than Anela is running," and you know what, you're probably right. Snails have been known to pass me up, I assure you. But guess what. I AM a runner. I choose to identify with the lifestyle and the philosophy of running, so whether or not you like it or agree with it, I can honestly and truly classify myself as a runner.

That's not to say that I haven't experienced some backlash, even from some people who would call me their friend. I can't say that it doesn't hurt a little (okay sometimes a LOT) when I am talking about running, or training for an upcoming race, and I see the look of surprise (not the good kind) and incredulity on their faces as they ask things like ,"so, uh, have you started, like, uh, training yet?!? Because it's clear that they are looking at my chubby (cushy? plump? large? squishy?) frame and thinking that I clearly don't resemble what a RUNNER looks like (lean, graceful, sweat-less...you get the picture). I've got to be honest. Sometimes, I just want to punch them in the face. Because I never said that I was planning on WINNING the race, or pacing at 6 minute miles. Heck, I never even said that I was going to RUN the ENTIRE time. But yes, stupid. If I have signed up for a 1/2 marathon, then yes, I have been training. Meaning, while you were sleeping in your cozy little bed on Saturday morning, I was out running 7, 8 even 10 miles sometimes. And sure, I went slow and walked some of it. But I ran a whole hell of a lot farther than these so-called friends who just look at me, jaws dropped, because I don't fit the mold of what they think a RUNNER is. In life, there will always be skeptics. I have learned (mostly) to ignore them, because it's how I see MYSELF that really matter. I see myself as a RUNNER, so I AM A RUNNER, no matter what these other bozos think or say.

Okay, by now you're probably looking back at the title of this post and thinking "didn't she say something about Mormonism?" I'm getting there. Just give me a second.

You may have figured out by now that I am a Mormon (if not, I'm letting the cat out of the bag right here and now). Some of you reading this may be Mormon, some of you used to be Mormon, and some of you may have never heard of Mormons. I am not here to share the belief system of my church. If you want to know more, simply go to www.lds.org or ask me. I AM here to to address what are some common misconceptions about Mormons, usually misconceptions that we have about ourselves, and how this related to what I've learned about RUNNERS. MORMONS are often seen as the "happy people" who go around smiling all the time, have zillions of kids, don't drink coffee or alcohol, don't smoke or do drugs, spend THREE hours at church every Sunday, serve 2-year missions, and try and convert others to our faith. Well, I am here to let you in on a little secret. Are you ready for it? I am MORMON and I am NOT PERFECT! There, you have it! I know, I know. Some of you who know me and spend a lot of time in my company are surely wondering about this revelation, but I assure you, although I never make mistakes in front of you, on occasion, at home, behind closed doors, I have an unkind thought or two or, in rare instances, use foul language (like I did earlier in this post, when I used the term hell, or as I prefer to say, H-E-double hockey sticks). :-)Other than that, I'm pretty much PERFECT.

NOT!

So, here comes the analogy that you've been waiting so patiently for. Spirituality is a lot like running. We are all at different places in our spiritual fitness. Some people are born runners, with lean bodies that were seemingly meant to gracefully glide through races. Just like some people are naturally good at choosing the right and keeping the commandments. It's not that they don't have to work at it--just like professional runners, who spend hours and hours each day training and conditioning for their races, these righteous people spend hours and hours each day reading the scriptures, praying, serving others, and being Christlike. It doesn't make them any better than anyone else--it just makes them really good at something (running, or following the commandments) that may be really hard for a lot of other people.

I was not born to run. Even if I were to train for hours and hours a day, keep a strict diet, and bust my butt, I doubt I would ever break a 9 minute-mile. I will never be a competitive runner. Ever. But that doesn't mean that I can't be a runner. It just means that I will cross the finish line long after the elite runners have passed (and packed their bags, eaten lunch, gotten a massage, and headed home!). Let me tell you something I was born to do. I was born to read. My oldest brother taught me to read when I was 3 years old, using a newspaper and some old books. By the time my little brother was born (I had just turned 4), I was reading Berenstein Bear books to him. Reading has ALWAYS come easy for me. Not that I haven't put in the time--even now, I love to read and spend several hours each week reading. But I love doing it, so it seems much more natural to me than running. There are people out there who will never be able to read as quickly as I can, people who spend weeks and months puzzling out the words in a book that I can finish in a few hours. But they are still readers, and just like I shouldn't compare my weak area (running) to an elite runner's strength, a struggling reader should not compare their struggle with my strength. It's an unfair comparison.

The same thing goes with gospel principles. We all have things that we are good at doing, things that come easily. For some, sitting through 3 hours of church is no problem, for some, reading their scriptures is a "given," for others, paying tithing is just something that you "do," not something that you have to practice and agonize over. However, we are all at different spiritual fitness levels, so one person's strength is another person's struggle or weakness. Just because you forgot to pay your tithing, missed part of church, or didn't say a prayer this morning doesn't mean that you are a "Bad" Mormon. In general, I have found that I am my own worst critic. I feel that because I hold a set of beliefs that teach me to always strive toward self mastery and perfection, like the perfect example, Jesus Christ, somehow I feel that I should already be there, that I should be perfect. I hate to disappoint (and shock) you, but I still have a long, LONG way to go on that goal. However, the fact that I wake up each morning, determined to "be a Mormon," and live the principles that I hold to be true, makes me a Mormon, just as waking up in the morning, getting out of bed and going running, however far (or short) I go, makes me a runner.

Whatever others make thing (or say, or judge), I am the one who determines my fate, I am the one who decides how I will describe myself, what characteristics I will have, what principles I will uphold, what routes I will run. I am a runner. I am a Mormon Runner!

Missing: Cardiovascular endurance and leg muscles...

It's been a while since my last blog, I know. Let me take a few moments to explain the insanity that has been my life for the past several months.

Over Christmas Break, I became engaged. When I got back to work in January, I suddenly found myself planning an out-of-state wedding, while working a full-time job plus tutoring and babysitting on the side. Things were quite stressful but for January and most of February, I was able to keep up with my running. However, by the end of February, my body and mind were telling me that something was very, very wrong in my life. After a lot of prayer and soul-searching, I made the extremely difficult decision to break off my engagement and end that relationship. I am so very grateful for the decision that I made because it was the right thing for me to do. I was emotionally relieved and expected to bounce right back into running after getting rid of the cause of all of my stress.

My body, on the other hand, had other ideas. I got sick. Really sick. It started with a bad cold. A few weeks later, as the cold was finally getting better, I woke up one day with a super sore throat, swollen glands, and just a general feeling of crappiness. I had mono, and it was brutal. The entire right side of my face was swollen, and my throat hurt so bad that I wished I didn't have to swallow. Every day was painful. After a few weeks, the swelling went down and I was starting to feel a tiny bit better when...BAM, I was hit with bronchitis. Seriously, I felt like my body was attacking me, and I didn't know how to get better. At first, I felt terribly guilty for missing work outs, but then I realized that running was not a priority anymore. I was in survival mode, and just making it through the day without collapsing was difficult at times. Often during the day I would get light-headed and spent much of my teaching time sitting down. I walked around school like a zombie, talking myself through the day hour-by-hour.

Needless to say, it hasn't been my best semester. Weeks passed, and I only felt minimally better. Then, finally, I started to feel like my old self again. I tried walking a few times during April, but just going a few miles would wipe me out for days (thanks to the after-effects of mono), and I just didn't have time to be sitting around in bed, as I was still working and tutoring on the side, putting in 50-60 hours/week. May came, and although I wanted to start running, I just couldn't handle it, physically or mentally. I was afraid to face the truth--that all the months I had spent training for my 1/2 marathon were most likely going to be erased, and I was going to have to start all over again...

So I waited. I blamed my lack of activity on the "end of the year stress" and "still recovering from mono." I told myself that as soon as school was over, I would get back into running. Then, I learned that National Running Day was June 1, so I promised myself that I would start running again on that day. Well, that also happened to be the day that my parents were arriving for a visit, and I was still working, so the hours passed and I didn't get out for a run. I excused myself by saying that my family was visiting, and that as soon as they left, I'd get back into it.

This week, they left on Tuesday. Yesterday I was at a professional development class all day, so again, I put off the exercise. I'd gone walking a few weeks ago, and I've been swimming laps at a friend's pool the past few days, but I hadn't been able to bring myself to try running.

Today, I decided, was THE DAY. The day that I faced my fears and benchmarked myself. I realized that I've been avoiding this day for weeks, because it's now been 3 1/2 months since I last ran. And, if I'm being honest, I just didn't want to see how bad it was--how out of shape I've gotten. I was avoiding running, thinking that somehow, if I put it off a little longer, I'd magically be able to do it well again. Maybe if I put on my running shoes, much like Dorothy's Ruby Slippers, clicked the heels three times and said "there's nothing like running" then I'd suddenly find myself in the middle of a long run with 4 miles easily under my belt.

Ha. No such luck. What I did find this evening, when I finally faced the music and went for a run, was that 3 miles seemed like an eternity, and that that first two minutes of running felt like the longest two minutes of my life. I use the run-walk method, and usually complete my runs by running for 2 minutes and then walking brusquely for 1 minute. I have this neat-o Garmin watch that beeps at me so I know when to walk and when to run. So, I started my run with every intention of running those 2-minute stretches but going slower than I normally do. Yeah, if by slow you mean that I was being passed by snails, that would be about the pace I was going at. And after those first two minutes, I wasn't even able to run the full two-minute intervals. I would run as far as I could, and then walk. About half way through the run, I couldn't run at all anymore. I was feeling faint, and trying hard NOT to pass out, so I walked. When I felt better, I walked faster. When I felt faint, I slowed down. But I was determined to finish those three miles, even if I had to crawl.

While I was running I started thinking about the last time I started an exercise program, a year-and-a-half ago. I kept thinking of how I weighed almost 70 lbs MORE than I do now, and yet, I was motivated to get out there and run. And I thought about how, this past semester, I HAD to put running on the back-burner and focus on healing my body and mind from the fall-out of my very stressful relationship and break-up. And you know, that's OKAY. It's okay that I took a sabbatical from working out, because sometimes, there are things that are FAR MORE IMPORTANT than running. We all have times in our lives when the poop hits the fan and it's all we can do to get out of bed in the morning. I had several months of that. My body literally broke down. And it's going to take a while to get back into the shape that I want to be in. But I've done it once before, so I KNOW that I can do it again.

Instead of focusing on how much I've digressed, I instead choose to focus on how much I have LEARNED about myself in the past several months. I am much, MUCH more appreciative of my general good health, and although it's going to take several weeks to build back my endurance and muscles, I feel so blessed to BE ABLE to build those things back up. I'm grateful that my poor health was temporary, and that I'm not strapped with a debilitating disease that would prevent me from running. I ran/walked 3 miles today. I have recorded my mileage and time on my calendar, and I have ONE goal for Saturday morning--to run/walk three miles in LESS time than it took me today. There's no sense comparing now to my OLD times...that was a different Anela, in a different place in my life, the Anela who hadn't faced the enormous challenges of this year, who hadn't yet OVERCOME those challenges and ended up BACK ON TOP. I wouldn't trade what I've learned for a faster mile time. NEVER! This is the NEW ANELA, and now I have a place to start. It took me 42:04 to go three miles. Saturday, I will do everything in my power to improve that time, even if it's only by one second.

After all, the most important thing isn't where you've been, it's where YOU'RE HEADED. And right now, I am a RUNNER, who is headed back to the sport that I love.

San Antonio Rock and Roll Half Marathon, November 14, 2010