The past few months I've gained weight more than I've lost it. I've struggled a lot with what I eat. Getting to the gym isn't as much of an issue, thankfully, though it's hit or miss (usually miss) on the weekends.

Oh, and let's not talk about how I've been eating on the weekends. Not. Pretty. But if there's anything good I can say about it, it's that I've learned a lot about myself in the process.

Fear is a funny thing. It can leap up when you least expect it and it can come from places you forgot to look.

My fear is my past.

It's extremely hard for me to admit that to myself. I tried explaining it to someone and she looked at me like I'd grown a third arm, so I changed the subject.

That evening I emailed one of my best friends and tried explaining myself again because it was really bothering me, and the further along I got in my email the more I knew what I was writing was true.

I'm afraid of getting smaller.

Without getting into a lot of detail, I had a psycho boyfriend experience when I was a teenager that left me with a lot of fear and self-doubt, and it wasn't until I gained about 30 pounds that this guy finally left me alone.

Was it the weight gain that made his attention go elsewhere? No. But what I've come to realize is that I equated being heavier with a certain sense of safety. After all, what bad man would look twice at a fat girl like me? My weight became more like a security blanket. A shield to keep people away.

The ironic part of this is that when I was in my early twenties I actually lost weight and thought I'd gotten completely over that whole experience. The difference is I almost always had a boyfriend and I rarely went anywhere by myself. If I wasn't attached, I went out with guy friends or groups of people, so being alone wasn't an issue.

I've been single for a long time now. I've gotten used to doing things by myself. It's never been a problem and I never really thought twice about it. Until a few months ago when I got my puppy Lucy.

I take Lucy for walks a lot. There are always other people out walking or riding their bikes, alone and in groups. I get stopped frequently by people asking about Lucy and wanting to pet her (she's a charmer, that girl). It doesn't bother me, I want Lucy to be social and mind her manners. It's fun to meet new people and 99% of them have been great. It's the other 1% that made me realize why I've been fighting my weight loss and where it's coming from.

The more weight I lose, the more attention I get from the male species. I'm not going to lie, it's nice to get those looks after working so hard to get where I am, though it startles me a little because I'm just not used to it.

About two weeks ago, however, I had an encounter with a not-so-nice man that could have been ugly if someone else hadn't come around a corner when they did, and it made me realize that the self-sabotage I seem to be involved with lately is a direct result of feeling like I 'need' that layer of security to protect myself. Honestly, I'm not sure I'm explaining this right or how much sense it makes to anyone else.

What I do know is that I'm not going to stop my journey to getting healthy because of fear or 'what ifs'. I'm going to find out about self-defense classes, and I'm going to get back on track with what I'm eating.

I can do this.

Last night after I worked out with my trainer I got on the treadmill and ran for 25 minutes straight. I was so happy with that I called my brother to tell him so, at which point he asked, 'what the heck do you think about that whole time?'.

Good question, though when I tried to answer it came out sounding ridiculous and he asked if I was feeling okay.

Since I was feeling better than okay, I felt really damn good, I decided to give it some thought. Why was that run so much easier than others I've attempted lately?

And what did go through my mind?!

Okay, first I got going with 2 minutes of walking really fast and figuring out how to get my phone to play the right music. Then I upped the speed and got to running.

The treadmills at my gym have little TVs that automatically come on when you hit the start button so I was watching interviews with state politicians about the late Sen. Ted Stevens. I wasn't thinking about anything really, just running, and the first time I glanced at the timer I was surprised to see 8 minutes had passed.

Usually by minute 3 I'm looking at that timer going, 'Only 3 minutes, are you kidding me?!' I was happy it took 8 for me to even look this time. Progress, baby!

About that time the song 'Bad Day' by Daniel Powter came on and I forgot about the clock. Since I'd had a bit of a bad day it fit my frame of mind.

I noticed I was breathing a little harder. The whole breathing while running thing is an issue for me, but last night since I wasn't thinking so hard about it I really didn't have much trouble. Funny how that happens.

This point in the run had me thinking about being thirsty and trying to figure out how to swallow without feeling like the wind has been knocked out of me.

Around the 15 minute mark I started getting tired. I thought about stopping but since I still felt pretty good I told myself to just get to 16 minutes and then I could think about stopping.

Same for minutes 17 through 20. I kept saying 'just one more minute and then you can stop' and it worked. Once I hit 20 minutes I came really close to stopping, but Livin' on a Prayer was playing and it would just have been wrong to stop in the middle of a Bon Jovi song.

On I went, finally getting really out of breath and feeling my shins like you wouldn't believe. I hit minute 23 and really wanted to stop, but after Bon Jovi was done with the Prayer that Crazy Little Thing Called Love song came on and it made me giggle so I kept right on running.

Note to self: Giggling while running does not help with the breathing hard part.

Then right when I hit 25 minutes I smacked my hand on the treadmill, bumped my phone, Dean Martin started singing 'That's Amore' and I laughed so hard I almost fell off the machine so I decided that was enough before I hurt somebody.

Or myself.

On the good side of almost falling off, I provided amusement to the people on the treadmills behind me. Always a silver lining, right?

And that, my friends, is just a little of what I was thinking about while I was running last night.

Little brother still wants to know if I'm feeing okay. Twerp. :-)

The weather here in Anchorage hasn't been great lately, it has been raining a lot. In general I don't mind the rain, but it's hard (for me, at least) to be enthusiastic about walking/running outside when you're getting soaked and dodging mud puddles.

Yesterday when I got up it wasn't raining so I decided I would try to run with Lucy. Well, jog really. Slowly. Anyway, I got excited about the idea, got Lucy and myself ready, and out the door we went.

This is Lucy, in case you're wondering.

We started out walking to warm up a bit, that went fine, but the second I started to move faster than a brisk walk we had problems.

I could tell you how Lucy tried to say hello to another dog across the street and only succeeded in wrapping her leash around my left leg twice. Or I could tell you how Lucy went from trotting forward to racing backwards in 0.2 seconds, nearly taking my arm out the socket. She's a strong little bugger!

Instead I'll just tell you how Lucy noticed a jogger coming towards us, tried to lick his feet as he went by, and managed to wrap her leash completely around my legs so fast I didn't even realize she'd done it until I hit the concrete curb. Hard.

Oh my aching hip....

The jogger was nice enough to stop and ask if I was okay.  Of course he had to be cute so I was mortified, but after assuring him there was no permanent damage done, Lucy and I walked a bit more and then went home.
 
After dinner I had a little talk with Lucy about how licking a strange man's feet and trying to maim me isn't acceptable behavior. My right hip is a lovely shade of blue this evening. I can't wait to see what colors appear tomorrow.

For the goal portion of this post, I'm excited (and nervous) about a challenge from a friend ~ to run the Disney World half marathon in January 2012! What the hell are we thinking?!?!

When I mentioned this to a friend his reaction was 'Why wait until 2012?'. We have our reasons, but the bottom line is we're doing it. I'm thinking I'll find some runs to do next summer, a 5k and/or 10k at least. Being Alaska, there aren't a ton of them, but enough that I can get some experience.

Considering how unspectacular my running is right now, I need all the time and help I can get, but I can't wait!

One year ago today I took my first steps into the gym and started to change my life.

I was both excited and terrified. I had no idea what to expect. I remember walking through the door for my first session with my trainer. The receptionist greeted me by name, took one look at my face and assured me nobody was going to bite. Not on my first visit, at least.

Comforting, right? Ha!

The trainer came out and introduced himself and the first thing he did was weigh and measure me. It was a little odd. The last time someone had measured me was for my senior prom dress, and she didn't get nearly as many measurements as he did. All I could think of was how rotten I felt and how ashamed I was of what I'd let my body become.

Tired. Overweight. Weak. Tired. Slow. Uncoordinated. Did I mention tired?

After getting the measuring and medical history out of the way, he asked me what my goals were. I was still so nervous I honestly can't remember exactly what my answer was, but the first thought that popped into my mind was that I just wanted to feel better. That's it.

Over the next few months I struggled a lot with the gym stuff. When I first started the training sessions it took less than 2 minutes for me to feel like I had been running for days (not that I actually know what that feels like, but you get the picture).

It was so hard!!! And to be honest for the first couple of weeks I felt like complete crap when I was done. Mentally I was excited about completing another workout, but physically I felt awful. I was sore and tired and I cursed the liar who told me about this so-called endorphin rush. I was convinced it didn't exist. I can't tell you how happy I was to be proven wrong about that, but I'll talk about it another time.

Excercise like this was something I'd never done before. I felt like a clumsy oaf and was sure someone (if not everyone) in the gym was laughing at me for how utterly ridiculous I looked.

Regardless of how goofy I felt doing it, I loved the exercise itself. I loved learning new exercises every time I met with my trainer. I loved discovering new ways to move my body. And I got all excited every time I felt a muscle I hardly knew even existed.

The day I discovered my tiny right bicep I did a happy dance in my bathroom (I did it twice but don't tell anybody).

When I began my journey to learn how to be a healthier human I weighed 216 pounds, had a body fat percentage of 38.4, and was a size 16/18. Here's a picture taken in June 2009:

That's me with my stepdad the day he moved back to Montana.

And there's the one on my progress picture page, taken at the end of June 2009.

These were taken yesterday:

What a difference a year makes!

The past few months I haven't lost any weight, I gained a few pounds. I know it's not the end of the world, and really it wasn't the weight that bothered me as much as my complete loss of motivation.

Oh, and the pizza I consumed....

Anyway, I'm not going to dwell on the not so good for me things I was eating for the better part of a month. It's my gym anniversary, it's time to party! My mojo is back and I'm feeling more motivated than I have in a long time to keep working hard to reach my goal.

In case you're wondering, I celebrated my 'gym-versary' by working out with my trainer, getting on the treadmill for 45 minutes of inclines and coming home to eat a chicken salad.

Today I'm feeling pretty darn spiffy and I hope you are too. :-)

That has always been my motto when it comes to running. I hated running. I loathed running. For the life of me I could not figure out what would possess a person to want to run for miles. For fun. What were they thinking?!

To be fair, I've never tried running on a regular basis. The last time I ran for any extended period of time was when I was in high school. That was a few years ago (okay, more than a few, I know!) and I had to run a mile. I did not enjoy it, but I did it. And when high school gym class was over, I happily said goodbye to ever having to run a mile again.

Then came the email.

I'd been exchanging emails with a friend for a few months. She recently decided to do something about her health so we liked to share experiences. She has always loved to run and she asked me if I'd thought of trying running.

I thought it was hilarious. She knows exactly how I've always felt about running, she was being a smart alec more than anything. I emailed her back and told her no, I wasn't about to start running.

Then she issued the challenge ~ to run one mile. She said since I've never even tried running I have no way to know if I'd actually like it or not. She also pointed out that when I first started going to the gym I was extremely nervous about it, I wasn't sure I'd like it, and now I love it. How did I know the same wouldn't be true for running?

She had me there. I had absolutely no good reason not to at least try. Aside from sheer terror and a dash of stubbornness. But I didn't answer her about the challenge because I couldn't think of a good reason why I didn't want to do it. I just knew I didn't want to.

During my training session on Monday I told my trainer about this (me and my big mouth) and he asked me why I didn't want to do it. Again, I had no good reason not to. At least not that I could come up with on such short notice. I didn't want to tell him I was afraid of doing it, because that made no sense either, but finally I did. My trainer asked me what exactly I was afraid of.

I told him I was afraid I couldn't do it. Saying that out loud to him made me feel like a complete idiot and a weenie. I mean it's just a mile, not a marathon!

His response? 'No problem, we'll do it Wednesday at the beginning of our session. Tell her you're doing it.'

Great.

When our session was done that night I told him not to let me back out at the last minute. He assured me he wouldn't. I spent the next 48 hours alternating between excitement and total panic.

On 'mile day' when I got to the gym I got on a treadmill to warm up and felt like I was going to throw up. I had so many butterlies in my stomach. I haven't been that nervous about being in that gym since the first time I went! I tried to calm myself down a little, no sense getting the heart rate up so soon after all, but I didn't do a very good job of it. By the time my trainer got to me my hands were actually shaking.

He asked me if I was ready and I immediately said no, which made him laugh. He just said okay and started talking to me a little about running in general, how to place my feet when I landed, that sort of thing.

I was feeling calmer and he asked if I was still afraid. I said yep, still am, afraid I can't do it. he called me a Debbie Downer. LOL That helped me feel better about how ridiculous I was being about the whole thing, so I gave him the okay and he started upping the speed.

At first it just felt....odd. I became accutely aware of the jiggly parts on my body, mainly around my hips and thighs. Things were moving in ways they haven't in years and it took a few minutes to get used to the feeling. Then I became aware of my shins in a way I never have before. My trainer got me to change the way I was hitting my feet when I landed and that helped.

Around that time it started getting harder to breathe. I could still answer my trainer's questions though. He kept asking how I was feeling, if my body felt okay, what I was going to do this weekend. I told him to keep talking because it was a nice distraction!

I hit the halfway point and was pretty darn happy about that, and I finally started to think I really could finish the whole mile. It was getting a lot harder though, mainly my breathing. I was sweating up a storm too. My trainer was really encouraging. Honestly if he hadn't been there at that point I might have stopped. I was having a hard time catching my breath and when he asked me a question I could barely give him a one or two word answer. The last couple of minutes were the hardest, my lungs felt like they were ready to burst. I had to really concentrate on what I was doing.

Then I was done! A whole freaking mile!!!! My trainer slowed the treadmill down to a walk so I could cool down and all I could do was grin, speaking was too hard. We spent some time talking about things while I cooled down and finally I was done. He asked me if I had any fun at all doing it. I automatically said no, but after a minute of really thinking about it, I realized that I did. Just a tiny bit, but I did. Imagine that!

I felt really, really good. I felt amazing! Must have been the endorphin rush that made me feel so spiffy. It's hard to describe but it just felt incredible.

After that I got back on the treadmill and walked at an incline of 15 for about 20 minutes, a 10 incline for 10 minutes, then I was ready to go home.

I still can't quite believe I did it.

And you know what? I'm going to do it again. :-)

My food cravings irk me.

I never crave something good for me, like an apple, it's always something loaded with ridiculous amounts of fat and grease. Pizza, for example, is what I'm craving right now. Pizza with lots of meat on it.....

Why can't I crave grilled chicken or a spinach salad?!

In general I don't crave food very often, which for me is helpful when it comes to trying to eat better. The downside is that when I do get those cravings, they are extremely hard for me to ignore.

In the past I've always just eaten what I wanted when a craving hit and not thought twice about it. Now, however, when I crave pizza I have a mental battle. I can't decide between eating something else and hoping the craving goes away, or letting myself have one piece to get it out of my system.

When I started eating better I didn't even attempt to cut certain foods out of my life completely. I knew that saying I would never eat pizza again was setting myself up for failure. Life is too short to never eat pizza again! But it has become a struggle to allow myself to enjoy pizza every once in awhile and not feel guilty about it afterwards.

I still have a lot to learn about myself.

I get asked about my motivation for working out a lot. I have to admit, seeing my progress now is a big factor, but that's not all there is to it.

It always seems to surprise people that I enjoy going to the gym as much as I do. The words 'fun' and 'fitness' just don't go together, or so I'm told.

As far as I'm concerned, they have to.

When I joined my gym I signed up for a year of personal training sessions. Since I had almost no experience with weights and machines (or exercise in general, at that point), I wanted to learn how to use them the right way. The day I first set foot in the gym for training, I had two distinct feelings  ~ I was scared silly (I'll talk about that another time), and I was sure I wouldn't like it.

I can't tell you how happy I was to be proven wrong!

I work out with my trainer twice a week and every time I go he has me doing something different. We rarely seem to do an exercise the same way twice so I feel like I'm learning something new every single time and I love that. I look forward to my training sessions, they're fun for me. Hard, but fun.

When I'm not doing training, I'm on the treadmill for cardio. I seem to be in the minority with this but I really like walking on treadmills. What makes it fun is changing what I'm doing almost every time I get on one.

Monday, for example, I did intervals of 2 minutes at 2.8 and 1 minute at 3.5, all on an incline of 7, for a total of 50 minutes. The time flew by! Other days I concentrate on higher inclines, anywhere between 15 and 21, and increasing the speed I do them at. Until I joined my gym I had no idea treadmills even had inclines that high (they go up to 30, can you believe that?!).

The more my exercise routine changes, the better I like it. And just to keep things interesting I'm going to a pilates workshop next weekend.

I never knew hard work could be this much fun!

Last night my trainer weighed and measured me as he does every month. My measurements all stayed exactly the same, but since March 1st I have lost another 5 pounds. I'm at 166 pounds.

I have lost a total of 50 pounds now!!!

It's still hard for me to believe.

When he weighed me I didn't realize I'd hit the 50 pounds lost mark. We were talking and I was thinking about other things, then we did our training session.

It wasn't until after our session and I was almost done with my 30 minutes on the treadmill that it hit me ~ I have lost 50 freaking pounds! I got so excited that I couldn't keep the grin off my face and I couldn't wait to tell someone so I grabbed my phone before I was even done with my treadmill time.

I started to dial my old home phone number before it hit me that the person I was trying to call was my Mom.

Mom has been gone now for almost two years.

Trying not to cry while walking on a treadmill surrounded by strangers is not my idea of a great moment.

I finished my workout, changed my shoes and was headed out the door when I saw my trainer again. I stopped and told him I'd just realized I've now lost 50 pounds and his reaction made me feel really good and really sad. It's so great to have a trainer who is as supportive and enthusiastic as he is, and for him to say he's proud of me means a lot. He just wasn't the person I wanted to hear it from right then.

When I made it to my car I sat in the parking lot and cried for 10 minutes.

I cried because the two people ~ my parents ~ I wanted to share my accomplishment with most aren't here anymore.

I also cried because their deaths are what finally convinced me to do something about my health, and that's really hard for me to think about sometimes.

Why did it take the loss of my parents to make me realize how important my own health is?!

It really wasn't until I watched my Mom's body slowly fail her that I became thankful for the body I had, all 216 pounds of me. And it wasn't until a year after her death that I got off my ass and did something about it.

I've always believed that everything happens for a reason. While I have a hard time understanding the reason for losing my parents so close together, I can say something good has come of it for me, and that's my attitude towards my health.

I know Mom and Dad would be proud of me.

I am slacking yet again with this blog. I think of all these things to write about, to ponder and ask your opinions on, and then...nothing. I think I still have a slight worry about what others will think. I know, I know. I'm working on it.

First, to the good stuff since I last posted ~ I've lost another 5 pounds! I am fully aware that in the month between those weigh-ins I could have lost more and done better, but I have to tell you I am a happy camper seeing 5 more pounds gone from my body.

More than seeing is feeling, I can't believe how good my body feels now!

When I bend down to pick something up my knees no longer pop like firecrackers and scare the elderly people next to me (which happened once while I was at a bookstore). When I tie my shoes my stomach doesn't feel like it's being pushed up my throat. I still have 41 pounds to lose, it's hard to imagine what I will feel like then but I can't wait to find out.

A really great moment at the end of last month? Going to the mall and buying a pair of size 12 jeans. Yeah baby! I did a happy dance in the dressing room when I put those things on and they fit just right.

*pause for another mini-happy dance*

Okay, happy dancing is over for the moment.

Now to the food woes.
 
I'm getting in the way of my own progress with my eating habits and frankly I'm rather irked at myself about it.

Before I bash ways, I will say that my eating has changed a lot  for the better since I started all this healthy stuff. I stopped drinking soda (oh Dr. Pepper, how I miss thee). I started eating breakfast every day (good stuff like oatmeal, not cereal that changes the color of your milk, as Michael Pollen tells us to avoid). My work lunches have been some form of a salad 99% of the time. I have drastically upped my water intake (and therefore my bathroom breaks, which I have to admit is a tiny bit annoying), and most of my snacks involve fresh fruit, Greek yogurt or something along those lines.

So, in some ways, I'm doing good. But I can, and will, do better.

Where I have a lot of trouble is eating dinner after work during the week, and just eating in general on the weekends.

After working all day the idea of coming home and spending forever cooking does not appeal to me. (And yes, I realize it doesn't have to take forever, but when I come home and open the refrigerator, that's what it feels like lately).

So I go for something fast and easy like...a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and an apple, or macaroni salad made with whole grain pasta and Miracle Whip, or a frozen (then microwaved) breaded chicken patty sandwich, that sort of thing. I know it isn't the best idea and yet I do it anyway just to be done with the process.

When I write that out loud it sounds so awful and lazy. It's not like cooking a healthy meal has to involve 3 hours, 50 steps and a list of ingredients as long as my leg (though at 5'4" that's not very long, but you get my drift). And the kicker is that I love to cook!

Weekends are filled with the same indecision, with the added bonus of having access to my kitchen all day long and I tend to gravitate towards it constantly. It's a good thing I've been able to avoid buying junk food at the grocery store and bringing it home, because if I did I would have an even bigger problem.

I think it all comes down to planning. Something I am not great at. When I think about it, I do well with planning breakfast and lunch to eat at work, but I'm realizing it's because I tend to eat the same thing all the time. Wow, how boring am I with food?!

But that's because when I started trying to eat better I found food that worked and I just stuck with it. I varied a few ingredients, but not a lot, so.....

This is awful. I'm hit with the horror that I've been eating almost the same thing for breakfast and lunch since August. For crying out loud that's 7 months!!

That is just wrong.......holy crap, I can't believe this.....

Well, okay then, onward we go. What do I do about it?

The first thing that comes to mind again is meal planning. For some reason I seem to find this difficult and it shouldn't be. If I spent a little bit of time planning out a week (at least) of meals in advance it would save me tons of time wasted trying to decide what I'm going to eat.

I've struggled with this aspect for awhile now so I don't expect it to change overnight, but I really, really want to find a way to overcome this mental block I seem to have about it.

I don't know where I should start, but I am going to find out.

I was reading a food blog I recently discovered and the author said something that made me think about my site. She said (and I'm paraphrasing), she doesn't like to blog about her insecurities when she knows thousands of strangers will be reading about it.

I, on the other hand, have no problem with strangers reading my blog. It's the people I know who worry me. Do I really want my aunt/cousin/friends from high school seeing how I let myself go, to the tune of 216 pounds?

I couldn't get past thinking, I'm ashamed I let my weight get so out of control and I'm embarrassed for them to see it.

There are a few problems with this way of thinking.

• I'm spending entirely too much time worrying about what someone else thinks of me solely based on the tale of the scale. That's insulting, both to them and to myself.

• Part of the purpose in starting this blog was to show the progress I've made, and continue to make. I've lost 40 pounds as of my weigh in last month! I have more to lose by why should I be embarrassed about sharing that with people who know me?!

• I'm sure 99% of them would be really supportive if they had any idea I'm doing this.

I don't know anyone who is trying to get healthy that complains of having too much support. There's no such thing as far as I'm concerned. I'm cheating myself out of great potential motivation and help....or, knowing some of them, a good ass kicking if I'm slacking, but that's beside the point.

My blog hasn't been updated much yet, and it stems primarily from the reason I stated above. I'm worried about what people will think. I have no idea when I regressed back to my junior high days, but there you go.

What bothers me about that is I seem to be forgetting how much encouragement and support I have received from my friends who know what I'm trying to do, both online and in person. I'm so thankful to have amazing people in my life who have helped so much more than they know.

The other big reason for starting this site was in the hope that I might help inspire just one other person to try to live a healthier life. I can't do that if I just let this site sit here.

It's time to get my big girl panties on, stop worrying, and start doing.