cake

So it's been a rough couple of days... really really rough emotionally.  I haven't worked out.  And tonight I had a good cry, ate some chocolate cake, and forgave myself for not running.  Tomorrow is a new day.

Week 2 Day 2

Oh boy I didn't want to work out today.  I was scared of my lungs hurting and looking for any excuse to not get out there.  But I DID go and the weather was beautiful- that warm end of fall where the woods smells like pine trees and honey.  It was warmer than I had expected and I felt bogged down by my unneeded sweatshirt.  I worried as my course took me up more hills today but the change of scenery was nice and in the end the workout was nice as well.  I did it just fine and am hopeful that I will be able to transition to week 3 with little difficulty.  It is still strange to not come back feeling like I'm dying- heart pounding out of my chest and lungs on fire.  To come back wanting more, feeling like I should stay out longer is a good feeling, and one I hope stays with me, more or less, through this program.  I know it gets tougher, and I know it will be challenging, but today the challenge was getting off the couch, and that was challenge enough. 

Soon....

Today I had my INR tested and it was a thin 3.1 so I should be ok in the clot department.  It just makes me so nervous.  My chest hurts less today so the goal is to go running tomorrow to continue on with my journey here.  I think the hard part is restarting after a little blip like this.  It honestly makes me want to just give up and take it as evidence that I am not meant to run.  Every time i try it seems a few weeks in something happens and I get derailed.  It seems that it is just not meant to be and trying again, especially in something I really don't like all that much, takes a lot of effort.  I just don't think people get it.  I am trying to remain determined though so tomorrow I run.

Derailed

So today my chest starts hurting.  I know for most people, especially who have recently been sick, this wouldn't be cause for concern.  But for me, it completely freaked me out.  I had a pulmonary embolism 4 months ago and getting back into running and feeling myself be able to be physical again was so nice- I was forgetting how fragile our existence here is and forgetting how my lungs ached for months.  And then today, they started hurting again and it brought it all back.  It hurts... not nearly as bad as my embolism but my embolism didn't start bad either, and 24 hours later I was in the hospital in the worst pain of my life.  It's hard to not be scared even though I know this can't be a clot because I'm still on the blood thinners.  I am so grateful for the blood thinners right now because without them I'd be even worse and probably demanding a cat scan.

I feel really lonely because I feel like nobody my age understands.  I feel like nobody I know gets it.  It doesn't help that I had to go get another 10 vials of blood drawn today so they can try to figure out what's going on with the blood clots.  I just feel like such a freak- a lonely scared freak.

Needless to say I haven't been running.  I got sick, and then with my lungs hurting it's out of the question.  I hope I feel normal soon.  Feeling like this gets old fast. 

I went running again today and again I didn't hate it.  Not hating running is a totally new phenomenon for me.  I am still surprised when I look forward to getting outside, look forward to moving.... and the fact that I don't really think about it as a vehicle for losing weight is also strange.  It's weird to connect with my body in a positive way.  When I'm out there I feel sort of free.  I'm surprised that my mind doesn't really think about anything in particular- it's usually going about a mile a minute but when I'm out there I don't think of anything, not even how long I have left.  It's nice to feel in sync, in a rhythm, and yes, I realize how pathetically slow I am and how little I actually run.... but it's nice to have it feel good,and I'll take what I can get.

Workout 3- end of week one

Today was another easy run, 60 seconds of jogging followed by 90 seconds of walking.  I was sure I was doing something wrong because I wasn't hating it.  I admit it took a bit of motivating to get me out the door.  There is something about a lazy Saturday afternoon that just doesn't make getting up and running all that attractive.  Sinking into the couch and watching football would have been fine, but the nice fall weather, and the fact that I can't quit a mere three days into this new routine got me into my running clothes and out the door.  It really is beautiful here this time of year and having the back loop of the park all to myself didn't hurt either.  I imagine eventually I'll go to a more populated route, but for now, not being seen, and therefore not worrying about who is seeing me and what they are thinking is helpful for me.  We'll take this, literally, one step at a time.

First workout

I have decided upon the couch to 5k program to begin my journey.  The thought that in a mere 8-9 weeks I could run a race is attractive.  The promise of it not making me puke, or having to run till I hate myself, is even better.  http://www.coolrunning.com/cgi-bin/moxiebin/bm_tools.cgi?print=181;s=2_3;site=1  This plan made sense, after all I currently reside on the couch, and would like to run a 5k, so there I start.

I skeptically put on my new sports bra (guaranteed to stop bounce) put on some gear that looked "runny" and stepped out armed with my husband's fancy sports watch.  5 minutes of walking, then alternating 60 seconds of running, 90 seconds of walking, repeat till you've totaled 20 minutes. And I did it, and I didn't die, I didn't puke, I didn't feel the blood pounding through my veins, dare I say it for the first time in my life I felt ok running.  I'm sure I looked ridiculous, and I ran the back roads so nobody could see, but I ran and walked and ran and walked, and felt.... dare I say.... GOOD after my first workout.  The trick is now to (1) rest like the plan says, when I feel like seeing if I can repeat a positive experience for once in my life, and (2) once I've taken a day to rest, getting motivated enough to do it again.

Why?

I am not a runner.  Runners, with their cool determination, their focus, their ability to pound the pavement, track and trail, alone or in groups, but always moving.... the ability to run a race, in front of people, and to cross the finish line with the knowledge that they have beaten a little bit of themselves that day, perhaps beaten down a bit of that part of them that tells them they can't- they can't go that far, they can't go that fast- beaten into submission by the crossing of a simple line on the ground.

I am not a runner, but I desperately want to be.  I want to beat back the part of me that screams FAT in my ears.  I want to beat back the part that screams CAN"T.  I want to somehow, even if only a small way, grasp what those confident masochists called runners have.

And so I have started my journey, and I invite you to read and run with me.  I am a newbie.  I am what they call a "prebeginner" which is really just a nice way to say lump on a couch.  A lot has changed since I was a child, when the way to run was to "keep moving till you puke, then get up and do it again."  There are dozens of programs designed to get me off the couch, out of my house, and onto the roads, and dare I say it, a race.  THey claim I can become a runner without puking, without running till I collapse or my lungs burn so bad I give up and use my running shoes to shop for groceries.  They claim I can ENJOY running.  I have to admit that the concept is so completely opposite to me that it makes me giggle- and yet it makes me hope.

To know why this is so important I suppose it's necessary to know something about me.  I am a mother of three and after the birth of my second child, and later my third, I suffered from adult onset anorexia.  The obsession with my weight has never gone away, even though nobody who didn't know would call me an anorexic, or even thin.... Every day I hate myself, and every day I know I'm not good enough.  I've been in therapy for three years now, and all the prodding, all the medication, all the talking in the world, has never brought me a genuine like for my body.

Four months ago I suffered, at the age of 29 from a pulmonary embolism.  I couldn't walk, let alone run.  I couldn't even sit myself up in bed without being racked with pain.  Yet even this did not make me appreciate my body, and as my pain diminished, day by day, the old doubts returned.  The sedentary life required by my condition did not do wonders for my waist line or my self esteem, but leeway is not in my vocabulary and I ended up feeling even more powerless about myself.

And then something happened.

My husband, who is crazy, ran a marathon.  As I cheered the competitors from the sideline- 99% of who were running against themselves, and not each other, I say people of every shape, size, and age.  They were all running.  There is a part of my brain that knows if you can run a marathon damn anybody who calls you fat.  In fact if you can run a 10k you can't be out of shape, because out of shape means your lungs burn when you jog down the block in that futile attempt to "get in shape"- being out of shape does not mean being able to jog 6 miles.  And I think, somehow, that maybe, just maybe if I'M able to run a 10k, or dare I say outloud a half marathon, then maybe I can get my brain to click over and learn to love this body for what it can do, and accept it for what it is.  There is no number that is thin enough, no size that is small enough, but PERHAPS there is a distance long enough that can make me say I'm ok.

This blog is about my journey, it's ups and downs.  I invite you to run along side of me.