Beat my time! Great training today!

 Today was an easy run, 35 minutes. I didn't have a goal in mind as far as how many walking breaks I'd have, how long my warm up, or cool down would be, nothing. But I was ready, and not just because of my awesome new running outfit I got from Sears.

Ok. Maybe it was the outfit.

   Anyway, I warmed up for .25 miles, then I started to run at 4.5 mph. Pretty easy going. I also at that point decided to see what would happen if I just kept looking at my distance instead of counting down time. So I kept thinking:

 Can I get to .35 miles? How 'bout .45? Awesome, you made it to .50, let's get to .60..." and so forth. I really was talking myself up a lot today, and I'm proud of myself! I made it to 1 mile on 4.5. I walked out another .25, then decided I was gonna go every .10 miles at 5.0, then 4.5, and so forth...

So I started with 5.0...

"Alright, you made it to 1.35! I feel good... I'm gonna go another .10 on 5." 
"Wow, I made it to 1.5! My legs are burning, but it's not enough to stop me."

I made it to 1.70, then felt my breathing starting to stagger a little... so I slowed my running to 4.5 till I got to 1.85. Then I finished strong at 5.0.

 I made it to 2.05 in 27:59 minutes, which made my pace 13:38.

I'm super proud of myself!

  I know for a lot of you, it may not sound like a fast pace at all, but it's really a big deal to me. There was a time when I couldn't go 4.5 for more then 30 seconds at a time without wheezing and coughing.

 My highlight of today? The 4.5 that first mile... seemed pretty effortless. I felt good. So I bumped it up. I really challenged myself. And I wasn't afraid of the challenge!

 Yay me.

Happy Running.

Phew!

Barely made that run...

   I just ran 5 miles on my treadmill. As I'm sitting here on the floor, trying to keep sweat from dripping on my keyboard (nasty!), I'm constantly having these stupid thoughts run through my brain.

 "You could've run that much faster."
"Why did you have to take so many walking breaks?"
"You set a goal to beat your time. And you failed."

   I think I know better than to actually believe these things. But sometimes I just can't help but think them. I honestly don't think it's a bad thing to allow these thoughts to pass through your head. It's natural. I think it's an issue when you start to let these thoughts become fact in your life.

   So anyway, kudos today for running 5 miles. And even with the knowledge of a slow pace, I still finished... No matter what, I will always finish what I started.

  

I think I'm changing my way of thinking...

I think my way of thinking about running is changing...

   Somewhat, anyway... At least, just how I'm viewing things...

   I've said in a previous blog that I have a love/hate relationship with running. Some of you may know what I mean by that. You have a goal in mind, and you want to reach that goal. Once you reach that goal, you feel so awesome and amazing! It's just a matter of... making yourself actually get up and put in the work. You know, getting out the front door and so on. It's tough. It's the "hate" part. Lots of emotions go through your brain that aren't particularly welcome...

              Fear

                         Anxiety

                                    Doubt

   Mostly things that keep you from believing in yourself. The things that you have to force yourself to get passed.
   That's been my whole struggle this last couple of years. Sure, I do "the deed", and I feel happy and great when I'm done, thinking I'm on top of the world, and how much I needed that. But those feelings always come after. Not before.

   Well, yesterday, I was supposed to do interval training on the treadmill (I'm training for a half marathon in July) when I got home from work. I got to work in the morning, and I thought to myself "You know, I don't feel like fighting my feelings today. I think I'm gonna just give myself a break today and skip out. I'll train extra or something next time." Well, about an hour before I got off work, I was stressed from the work load all day: the drama, the crazy customers (I'm a barista), the spilled milk (I actually wanted to cry over spilled milk!), that an unexpected feeling came over me. A feeling that I needed to work out my anxiety. Not with food. Not with massages. No, they wouldn't do. My body actually took over my brain, duct taped it to a chair, and said "Look! I don't know what kind of business you're running upstairs, but down here, we're suffering! We need some outlet, or we're gonna freeze up! And no more CRAP you've been dumping on us, the ice cream, the sitting on the couch watching TV. It's not solving the problem! Look at the BIG PICTURE HERE! We need ACTION! We need to RUN!" 
   Completely shocked by my reaction to the stress, I immediately went home after work, put on my running shoes, got on the treadmill, and very desperately, I tied my fastest run ever! Ok, so it's really not that impressive, I'm still slower than every other runner on the planet, but I'm giving myself kudos. I changed my way of thinking about running. It's more than something I need to do. It's a tool. A tool I can use in every day life, for any stressful situation. Not exactly to solve problems, but it'll at least keep my head from exploding. And heck! I mean, I didn't get on the treadmill with a goal of tying with my fastest run; I just ran! Watch on wrist, but not dependent on it. Music playing through the speakers, but hardly the motivation for me. No. The motivation came from deep within me. Motivation duct taped my brain to a chair and had a pep talk with it. Motivation came sneaking around the corner when I least expected it. 
 

   It was all I needed. I hope it keeps popping in.

Happy Running.

Running with Asthma

Let's talk about why you're here...

You're probably here because you saw the title of my blog, and wanted to read about running...

Well... Let's talk shop.

   I'm a runner. I've been running since 2012 (just after my husband and I moved from Washington State to Arizona) but I still consider myself a beginner. I'm not sure why I think of myself that way. Because I'm a sloooooow runner? Because I have to take walk breaks? I don't really know. I guess I should think higher of myself. 

   I've completed 3 races so far (a 10K, a 17K, and a half marathon), and I'm registered for 2 more races this year.


                               
                                     *Tour De Peevee 10K; Prescott Valley, AZ; September 2012

                                      
                                      *Kiss Me I'm Irish 17K; Glendale, AZ; March 2013

 
                                       *Whiskey Row Half Marathon; Prescott, AZ; May 2013

   I'm very proud of what I've accomplished. I haven't really raced a lot so far, but I've already done more than I ever thought I would do.

   Running and I have a love/hate relationship. I didn't exactly start this by myself. The first race (10K), I was coaxed into by a coworker who needed someone to run it with them. At that point I was not a runner, period. So I laughed in her face when she first asked me. I couldn't believe it. I mean who does she think she's asking? There's plenty of people in this place that run regularly. To this day, I still don't really know why she asked me, accept maybe because we were just good friends.

   Whatever the case was, I agreed. For no reason at all, I agreed. So, I stocked up on my inhalers and started training. Man, that sucked. I'd walk out my door, walk a few minutes to "warm up" (really, I was just trying to work up the courage to start running), run down a hill, stop, wheeze a lot, then do that over and over again. It was torture. In those times, I was really talking down to myself. Why can't you just run like everyone else? Why do you have to look like a fool out here for people to see? You obviously can't do this. You're an asthmatic, you're not built to run. Why don't you just call it quits. I'd repeat these words in my head all through my "runs". These words would cause me to stop running and start walking. They would cause me to stop on the side of the road and wheeze and cough, wishing that I remembered to bring water with me. These words would cause me to be embarrassed to be out where people could see me as they drove by.

   But they didn't stop me from finishing.

   Whether I went out to run for a mile, 3 miles, and so on... I finished. I think I really just didn't want to be that person that tried something, failed, and went back to my "old self". The "self" I didn't know anymore. At this point I'd lost 40 pounds, and I didn't wanna go back to something that took away years of my life. I wanted to do something with my life that meant something to me. Not to anyone else. Me. Something that I thought I could never do. Something that required me to push my physical, and mental, limits. Something that would change how I looked at the world. Something that would change how I viewed myself.

   I still hated it, though.

   It beat me up every time I went out there. I wanted this race to be done, just so I could say I did it and move on.

   So race day came. It finally came. I was nervous. I was tired (people don't voluntarily get up at this hour!). I was not ready.

   I walked up to the starting line with Cristina -my coworker- ipod tuned in, my muscles already aching for what was about to happen. The bell rang, and we were off.
  I immediately fell behind her (she did this in her sleep), and I just wished this would just be over. The headphones were already hurting my ears, and the music really wasn't helping.
  Shinsplints? Really?? I thought I'd gotten past this stage in my running! My legs were getting numb from the pain. I couldn't breathe. It seemed like an hour went by. I approached a mile marker.

 "Mile 1"

   Ugh. Wow. I'm such a crybaby. Oh, here we go with the trash talk. I can't believe you! It's been 1 lousy mile, and you already want to quit? REALLY?? 

 "Mile 2"

    We left the pavement for dirt paths now. The music was driving me nuts, and I really couldn't figure out why. I'd done the music before... Oh, only I did it on the treadmill. Whenever I trained outside, I didn't use music because I was afraid I wouldn't hear dogs and cars approaching.
   I took them off.
Aaah. That's better. By this time, I was run/walking next to the "stragglers", so all I really heard was the occasional person shuffle past me, in between the birds chirping for breakfast, a cow mooing, and so forth. Not too bad. Something relaxing to take my mind off of the pain.

"Mile 3"

   My asthma is really sucking. I'm having to walk a lot more than run. This sucks. I really don't want to be in last place. I'm sure by now my coworker has already crossed the finish line. I can't believe this. Where's my inhaler? And where's that mile marker?? I should be approaching it anytime now!

...

"Mile 5".

   Wait. What? When did I pass mile 4?? I was thinking so much about how sucky I was at this point, that I didn't pay attention to the last mile marker. Wow! That extra mile went way fast! And I wasn't even looking!

   Hmm... I may actually do this.

   The dirt turned into pavement again, and I was being passed by the half marathoners now.

   "Woo!"

   "Go girl, you got this!"
  
   "High five! You can do it! Come on!"

   Police were guiding traffic, giving everyone high fives as we passed, shouting encouraging words. Cars were honking and cheering as they passed us. People at the water stations cheered and screamed "Come on! Just a little bit more!"

  "Mile 6".

 Only .2 to go! I started running again. I felt revitalized. I felt awesome. I felt like a tiger! Well... maybe a little tiger cub. To think that all that happened on that course, the birds chirping, the beautiful sunrise, the cheering, would have been drowned out by my headphones. No offense to those who use them, music is a great motivator. Just, for me, it wasn't as motivating as hearing the positive vibes around me.

   I came around the corner. There's Cristina! She ran up to me and started running to the finish line with me, shouting "I'm gonna beat you! You need to beat me!" Of course, she'd already finished long before, but it was at least motivating enough to get me sprinting to the finish line.

   When I crossed that finish line, and felt someone take off my tracker, hand me a towel, and put a medal around my neck, it was... unreal. I just couldn't believe I did a 10K race. ME! An asthmatic, overweight girl with no desire to run.
    My husband and my dad came and hugged me. I was handed a banana and a protein shake. Then my husband told me "Hey! Sign up for another race, and I'll run it with you. You've inspired me, Babe!"
   I've inspired him??
  
   Ever since that day, the day that started out as crazy, painful, agonizing, then turned into a day of serious accomplishment, a day that changed my life, a day that changed my way of thinking of myself, I've run, with my husband by my side. I've run through the pain. I've run through the trials. I've run through the wheezing.

 I may be the slowest runner out there. But I take it just as seriously. It's a requirement for me. I have to do this for me. To remind myself that if I want to do it, I can. But I have to work for it. I have to beat my thoughts, my pain, my weaknesses. I have to beat me. And only me.

Happy Running.
  

This is me.

Hello!

My name is Lizzie.  

 

This is what I look like (as of September of last year, anyway)...

And in case you're wondering who that sexy man is next to me, it's my husband, Josh. Here's another picture of him. Ain't he cute??

This next picture is also of me. You can scroll down ahead of this text now... You see that smile I'm plastering on my face? Yeah, it's pretty fake. I was pretty good at that. You can call it the "girl at the party, talking to a plastic fern in the corner of the room, pretending to have a good time" syndrome. I didn't want to be noticed. I was a peacekeeper, wanted to make sure everyone was having a good time, so of course that meant that if I had any problems going on (with my weight, my marriage, my self-loathing), I kept them to myself. Instead I'd grab 3 tacos and hoped it would keep me quiet. So I gained 90 pounds. I had lost my self-worth, my marriage was not an open one at the time, I felt very insecure around people, even my best friends, and in general (no matter how much I tried to keep people happy), I was not always a pleasant person to be around.   

  Yeah, I was a mess.
 
 Well, then something happened back in 2011 that I'll probably never forget. Even now the occasional butterfly appears in my stomach when I think about it. My very best "friend" walked away from our friendship over something that hurt a lot of people (including me), my marriage was struggling, and I went a couple of months picking at little clues of what was really going on, because no one wanted to tell me, afraid of how hurt I would be. My life, so I thought, was taking a turn for the worse. I thought my marriage was going to come to a horrible end, I was devastated and hurt over my best friend, and I felt like I was in a hole full of unknown, and no one was willing to lift me out. That, of course, was not how they viewed it (as they shouldn't), but nonetheless, that was how I felt.
   Finally, after picking my husbands brain for the up-tenth time, we signed up for some counseling.
We went, thinking we were just gonna go and talk about our feelings, and our needs and issues with the marriage and so forth. Well... I don't think we even talked about those things at all in those sessions.
   The counselors' goal for our sessions was to "reintroduce ourselves to each other, and to ourselves". I thought to myself "yeah, ok. Whatever. This is gonna be a waste of time."
   Long story short, it wasn't.
   The benefits of re-approaching oneself, especially with someone looking from the outside in, is that you see things you overlooked before, because at the time you were too busy looking at something/someone else. The counselor could tell me how I viewed myself on a deeper level just from my mannerisms. The way I nervously laughed when I'd say something serious about my life. The way I crossed my arms. The way I sat on the edge of the couch farthest away from him. All signs (obvious to him, but not to me at that time) that I didn't value myself at all. Not even a little. To me, my opinion didn't matter. My feelings didn't matter. If someone else had a opinion about something, then they must be right. All things that I had no clue whatsoever about. Feelings that I had no idea I had. They had to be spelled out to me. And all it took for this guy to see them was one hour-long discussion.
 So when someone points those things out to you, it makes you think of when you started to develop those nervous habits, why you started, and how it's effecting you and others today.
   Those sessions allowed me to make a clear decision about myself, whole picture in front of me. I was able to really think about my life, from that day forward. He gave me tools on how to approach myself, on how to approach my husband (and vice versa, of course), and take hold of my life for the first time!

 This blog is about my life journey. Weight loss, acceptance, self-respect, finding myself, etc. This last couple of years have been the most eye-opening years of finding myself. I have lost 50 pounds so far, and I even took up running (which, as an asthmatic, I thought was laughable a few years back), and it has helped me find my "inner-tiger".

  I realize now that if I want to go for something, I can. Nothing can hold me back. My journey continues, and I hope to continue writing about it here as I walk this path. It's an exciting time of embracing the future, whatever it may hold.

  Cheers.