Binge Eating Disorder

I still make myself laugh sometimes.  I really thought when I started this healthy lifestyle journey that I would reach an ‘end.’  That some of the ‘bad’ things would disappear and no longer be an issue.

Joke’s on me.

A weight on the scale? Permanently changed/banished behaviors? Some sort of finish line?

I really had no idea what I thought would be the ‘end’, but I was so sure there was one. I thought that once I got healthy, got to a normal weight that some of these problems would simply just disappear.

They don’t.

Who knew?


An old friend came to visit two weeks ago.

And that’s totally a euphemism for ‘something shitty that I was really, fervently hoping I had killed/abolished/changed/was going to stay the HELL GONE FOREVER just knocked me on my ass… ‘

My old friend showed up again.

I was am a binge eater.

I always dressed that up, when I had to say anything at all, and said I was a compulsive overeater. Which is true — that’s a component of the problem I battle.

Overeating can be sporadic, no guilt/shame, just a bad habit.  An overly full belly from time to time

Binge eating is a whole different animal.

Binge eating disorder (BED). “BED is a medical condition, and it’s the most common eating disorder in the United States. People with BED regularly eat large amounts of food while experiencing a sense of loss of control over the eating episode. They often feel guilt or shame after eating. Characterized by eating when not physically hungry.’

Hunger has NOTHING to do with it. Nothing.

Binge eating sucks.  Big time.

There I said it.

For me a binge gets started when I’m sad, not being active and things feel increasingly out of control.  The more of that toxic combination there is in my life, the more I lean toward food for gaining that control, that ‘love’, that comfort…

I know binge eating is an issue for people — one we do NOT talk about.  Yet BED is the most common eating disorder in the US. ( Healthline). I know from conversations, texts, emails, FB messages that this is not something I’m suffering with alone. There’s a bunch of you out there suffering quietly. Miserably.


Last big binge for me was before my mom died.  Over 8 years ago.  2009.  I’ve done some overeating in that time since, for sure.  But not a planned, purposeful binge.

I thought I’d ‘cured’ binge eating.  Or had it buried deep and totally under control.

Until 2 weeks ago.

This binge caught me totally by surprise and none of my new, healthy, hard-fought habits were worthy of stopping it.

It scared the shit out of me. And I couldn’t stop it.

The binge lasted 4 days.

No one knew I was doing it.  When I finally reached out for help the friend I told said ‘I didn’t know you were binging’…  To which my reply was ‘Because I didn’t want you to know.  I’m damn good at this shit.  Damn good.  If I didn’t want you to know, you would never know. But I need you to know now and I need help.’

I can tell you that as far as binging goes — I had not lost any of my skills…  This episode was methodical, anticipated, carefully planned, enjoyed, deeply hidden, devastatingly successful.  I was thrilled to be doing it.  Mortified when I was in the midst of it. Sad and broken and totally beaten down after the first bite.

I reached out for help at day 4.

I quickly got appropriate help. I got support.  I was reminded that I am loved.

I was also harshly reminded that this is a cunning foe that I have to keep working to learn and understand.

So what was the binge?

Trail mix.  Freaking Costco trail mix.  I bought 4 bags. They each weigh 4 pounds.   I paid cash.  I ate a bag a day for 4 days. I ate it all day long.  Quietly, a serving at a time. Hidden away and portioned out so no one would suspect or question or figure out what was going on.

Your mind is trying to do the math. I’ll save you the effort…  Each bag was 36 servings with 9,600 calories per bag.  38,400 calories, 3,360 grams of carbs over 4 days. (In my healthy eating ‘norm’ I eat about 1,500 cals, and limit carbs to 90 grams per day…)

Yeah.  The scope of this binge is even more horrifying when you put all the numbers on paper.

And I was also eating ‘regular’ meals so that no one would catch on to my binge eating.

And entire bag a day, for four days. 

I was somehow able to stop the binge, even though I still felt totally out of control and sad and frantic.  I reached out, which goes totally against ALL instincts in a binge eating haze. And then I began to battle the shame and guilt and failure that comes on the heels of losing total control over food.  The shame and guilt of hiding my binge. Feeling isolated and alone and terrified I would be found out. Or that it wouldn’t stop.  Or that all of my hard work to learn to run and reverse T2 diabetes and lose weight would be GONE because I could not/WOULD NOT stop eating.

This is an old friend I would be happy to never, ever see again.

I simply have to understand that s/he may show up again at any time for the rest of my life.

 

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Tooth and nail.

I had a tooth pulled yesterday.

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There’s a couple of things going on that landed me at the point of having a tooth so broken they couldn’t repair it…

I’m claustrophobic as heck and I’m afraid of the dentist. {Any dentist.}

Type 2 Diabetes.


I grew up with severe asthma. Spending hours on breathing machines in the hospital and having to – to this day – carry a rescue inhaler. Struggling to breathe, breathing so hard my ribs hurt for days, feeling like a goldfish knocked out of their bowl… I remember the difficulty of trying to breath for days on end very, very clearly.

Fighting for air and not getting it is a feeling that instills instant, blind panic.

I have always feared anything that would compromise my breathing. I hate putting my face in the water, never wore masks for Halloween and I’ll go in full, irrational, freak-out mode if someone tries to cover my mouth, even in jest.

I’ve bitten and kicked at dentists. NOT because I’m an asshat.  I mean maybe I am, but it’s usually because it’s a fight/flight response and I felt they were blocking my breathing.

One of my charts was marked ‘Friendly Biter’.

I got asked not to return to one office — which was fine, I was never going back anyway. They blocked my mouth and nose with a work-dam during a root canal.  I lost my mind and rolled out of the chair mid-procedure after my attempts at arm waving, grunting and pushing away their hands didn’t work to alert them that I could NOT breathe…

As an adult I still feel like I have to warn every new dentist. ‘Uh… I’m claustrophobic. There’s a really good chance I might freak out on you. I mean, I’ll try really, really hard not to, but I have a history…’

No matter how wonderful and careful the dentists are — they’re messing with my mouth.  And in my mind that means my breathing. I have to do some serious brain-calming to get in and out of every single dentist chair and not bite or kick anyone.

Like a lot of folks, I had some early dentist visits where pain was involved which doesn’t help the situation.  Parental deception, scary instruments, noises, futile distractions.  And there’s no new toothbrush, sticker, toy or post-visit Icee that will ever make up for some of that. Most dental visits for me still involve a) lying about/hiding pain to avoid a procedure and b) being in tears.

Dentists and clowns still scare the crap out of me.

Go figure.

So, because of my fear of dentists, I don’t always get the preventative work done that should happen when you’re a non-dentist-phobic adult. I put crap off becasue I’m afraid it’s going to hurt and i’ll be scared.

And then it hurts.  And I’m scared.  And I have to go anyway.

Not the best example of adulting. 🙂

But let’s get to the root (pun intended) of this issue…. Type 2 Diabetes. T2.

My teeth were relatively normal and healthy with a filling or two until I got T2.  As the disease progressed unchecked, then I was ‘pretending’ it was no big deal and managing it poorly and then finally when I landed on heavy meds because being an ostrich hadn’t work….

T2 was rampant and doing damage.

Right around the time I was diagnosed with T2 my teeth started to have issues. Bad issues. Like every tooth in my head has had work. I have 7 root canals and crowns. One implant. And now I have two visible holes where teeth are missing…

Some dentists say it was the diet that I consumed that got me to 400 pounds that is the core issue.  Eat crap, eat diet laden with sugar; your teeth will fall apart.

Some say it’s genetics.  My mom had ‘soft teeth’.  So do I.

Some say it’s the T2 meds. They cause severe dry mouth and after a decade on those diabetes drugs, they create all kinds of dental and gum issues. {Including this wonderful yellowish tint that defies most whitening tactics.}

Some say that uncontrolled/poorly controlled blood sugars cause poor and delayed healing.

One dentist, recently, did research when I told him about T2 being in submission. He shared findings that teeth/gums are proving to be more prone to nerve/gum/tooth damage from uncontrolled blood sugars and T2 diabetes that previously thought. He feels strongly that the nerve damage from T2 hit my feet and my mouth and we’re just now seeing the extent of the damage.

I believe all of them.

Having this suddenly-crumbling, painful, tooth extracted reminds me of the silent damage T2 can do. And was doing.  And that I’ll have to keep paying for.

It also reminds me that I’m one HELL of a lucky woman.

I am so, so lucky this disease attacked my toes and teeth and not my heart, kidneys or other internal organs.

And it reminds me how grateful I am that I now have 6+ HEALTHY years to my name.

I have 6+ years of fighting off and reversing T2.

I have 6+ years that I have NOT done additional damage.


I was texting my friend Evelyn about my pulled tooth.

And I got to musing about what life would be like with 6 additional years of 400 pounds/barely controlled blood sugars/damage to my body.  What medical care would I be involved with?  What kind of meds would I be on and how much would it be costing me? Would I have finally lost my infected toes/feet?  Would my teeth be hanging in or falling out?  Would I have had a stroke, or lost my kidneys or had any of the other collateral damage that comes with obesity and T2…?

Would I even be alive had I not begun to fight to reverse this disease?

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Me: ‘I often wonder what life would be like right now if I was still unhealthy, obese, T2.  Like 6/7 years MORE damage.’

Evelyn: ‘According to what your doctor said, I may have never met you. So happy I did.’

Me: ‘You’re going to make me cry.  But you’re right. I think I would probably be dead. Having a tooth pulled is minor…’

Not to borrow trouble or create stories that don’t exsist….

But seriously?

What if I hadn’t turned things around?


I had an experience in the spring with scabs on my knees — SIGNS of a healthy body working to heal. Great scars, fun/stupid runner story to share, no infection, total healing.  AMAZING!

And this dang tooth serves as yet another reminder of the former life I lived/survived with T2.  Confirmation that I’m doing the right things and encouragement to keep doing what I’m doing.

Keep healthy. 

Keep added sugar out of my diet as best I can. 

Keep running/active for the love and joy of it all.

I think T2 did the damage that ruined the tooth, but my non-T2 body can now heal up the surgical wound quickly.

 

I’m lucky.  I worked hard to stop this disease from ravaging my body any further than it already had.

I’m lucky it’s just a tooth.

Still fighting this tooth and nail. (Get the pun?!)

 

 

 

 

 

Mountains of mindfulness

11174026-943C-4692-BDA5-0759E2402818.jpgI was just part of a running and mindfulness retreat in breathtaking Colorado.  (The views and the altitude were both breathe-stealing!)

Coming to this thing was Spencer’s idea well over a year ago.

We embrace events and opportunities like this as growing our cache of skills and connections for our business as well as helping each of us stay accountable to our own lifestyle choices and changes. Building our business while spending the weekend running trails in the incredible Colorado mountains and learning about mindfulness/meditation?

Why not?

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Spence and I on Green Mountain. Some folks on this hike/run were on their longest run ever, some were seasoned ultra runners and some had never been on trails. SO FUN!

I had a meditation practice coming into this retreat; barely.  I manage to eek out about 2-3 minutes of ‘mind-quiet’ time most days. I use the time, pre-coffee,  to set an intention, frame the day in kindness/compassion.  It was a hard habit to start, but I have managed to get it done most mornings for the last 9 months or so.  And I see results.  It works.

But going to a full 3 day retreat focused on meditation and mindfulness with some yoga and group runs throw in?  I wasn’t sure how ‘into it’ I was going to be… I told Spencer, I was absolutely going to listen, learn, observe. I didn’t arrive to Colorado with too many expectations, yet I did arrive with an open mind.  I was ready to meet some great people and just enjoy the experience — whatever it was all about.

Spoiler alert?

It was deeply impactful.

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Beth, Jason and I cruising down the hill and feeling GOOD.  Uh make that GREAT! Happy to be right there, in that moment, exactly as we were, doing exactly what we were doing.  Such goodness captured in a picture.

I loved the running, people, food, mountains, conversations. That’s kind of what I expected — or more accurately — was really hoping for.  What I was not expecting was how much I would deeply, truly love the workshops and the group meditation.

We talked NOT just about what mindfulness was, but what it looks like, how it plays in our lives and how to actually DO IT.  We were guided through meditation in the morning and then we went on group runs.

Abundance of laughter and pictures and meditation and great food and mindfulness and breathing.


I am sitting at our friend Matt’s house staring at the vast and rugged Colorado landscape. Jaw-dropping.  We’re waiting for the eclipse to get started! I’m thinking about what I get to practice and play with moving forward, thanks to the Olson’s and my other retreat-mates, that I didn’t have in my ‘tool kit’ just last week. I realize I’m slightly dreading the return to ‘normal’ life and routines.  I mean, this was an amazing, eye-opening, heart-filling experience.

Who wants to go back to work after this one-of-a-kind experience?

But than again… The point of mindfulness is that THIS moment is all you have and it’s all wonderfully, genuinely, exactly as it should be – every breathe, every moment.

Just enjoy the moment.

THIS moment.

Quit worrying about what could happen and just enjoy what IS happening.


Anyone in the ultra world will know the name Timothy Olson. Talented athlete with a really long and impressive list of accomplishments.  It turns out he is also a damn good daddy and hell of a nice human being on top of it all.  He and his wife, Krista (she’s an equally amazing human, momma, runner, businesswoman) and a cast of other incredible humans are the hosts and leaders for this weekend.

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Tim’s the one waving. 🙂

While I’m still processing things and figuring out what the key take-aways were; I didn’t want to lose sight of the few that were BIG for me… (And maybe they’ll resonate for you too!)

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Selfie skills for the win! I told them I could get all of them in one selfie.  We did it! SEE SPENCER…  When I randomly pause my Garmin during a key workout — it has a bigger purpose. 🙂

Fueled by love.  We often run or engage in some kind of physical activity and let it be fueled by fear, anger, resentment or some other not-so-great-emotion.

I have to run, I don’t want to gain weight.  

I am PISSED at something in my life, so I’m going to go pound it out on the trails.  

I ate XYZ and I have to go work it off as punishment because I shouldn’t have eaten it.

So we’re essentially using that predominant negative emotion as ‘fuel’.  WHAT IF…  What if we used love and compassion and kindness to ‘fuel’ our runs instead?  This epiphany hit during a casual bonfire circle Q & A.  And the message isn’t entirely new to me; I love the idea of re-framing and positive self-talk, etc.  But this simple answer hit me hard, like… I understood it like I’ve never understood it before and could pull context from that very days’ run of having used fear to fuel my strides. I always run with an edge of fear. ALWAYS.  What will people think?  What if I gain the weight back?  What if the whole group has to wait for me? What if diabetes creeps back in my life? LOTS of what if’s floating around that are fear-based, fear-laced.  What if I were to set the intent of the run and simply choose to fuel that run by counting blessings, harnessing love, recognize the good in life? That’s a ‘what-if ‘worth pondering a whole more deeply.

Breathe. (Breathe deep.)

Open-hearted curiosity. Tim gave us his working definition of mindfulness.  And the piece that resonated deeply for me was ‘open-hearted curiosity‘.  In fact I didn’t hear what he said after that for a few moments because the idea struck me hard. Just that moment of pure wonder with no judgement attached…  His example to illustrate this idea was perfect.  He said to think about that moment when you stick your head outside the door to see what the weather is before heading out on a run.  You are not JUDGING what the weather is going to bring to/do to your run or your day, it’s just that instant/moment of wondering how the air is, what the skies look like, what the weather really is like at that moment…  THAT moment of suspended judgement is ‘open-hearted curiosity’.  I fell in love with that idea… 🙂  Coupled with open-hearted curiosity is the reminder to suspend judgement.  Just be curious.  I’m a harsh self-directed judger and conclusion-drawer and a story-builder.  I take one data point and can easily build the apocalypse in my head; convince my heart to go along with my head and the day is suddenly headed in another direction…  So suspending judgement and just being consistently, genuinely open-heartedly curious, is a BIG ONE FOR ME.  Just be curious.  Period.  Stop right there.  I’ve been eagerly practicing this one a lot already.

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Kindness. The world just needs more kindness. Ample and gentle reminders for us to find ways to insert kindness when we see the chance, when we’re given the chance. Smile at people on the trails. Help a fellow runner/hiker/outdoor-goer.  Take the kindness off of the trails and into life.  Kindness conquers a whole lot of ills in our world.  Kindness costs nothing.

BREATHE. (In through the nose, out through the mouth…)

Accepting pain. Instead of fighting pain and discomfort, accept it. Lean into it and accept it, feel it, acknowledge it. Breathe through it. I always figured part of what we were training for with all this dang mileage and ‘time on our feet’ was to abolish the pain; get stronger and fitter so pain was less and less of an issue.  Uh… Not true.  Pain is actually strengthened by our reaction to it. Fixating on things rarely ‘fixes’ them.  WHOA!  So reacting to the pain actually makes it stronger. Damn. That’s not good. This is true for physical pain and mental pain as well. The idea that accepting pain, facing it and not fighting it is what actually helps it diminish or be put into perspective was a pretty startling reminder/re-framing for me.

And just breathe…


Heading home with tired legs, full lungs, happy heart, new friends.

This adventure delivered more than I could have possibly imagined.

Full and happy heart.

#runmindful

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Fat Shaming

IMG_5633I want to talk about fat-shaming.

I have been fat-shamed.  Lots.  In some cases I remember incidences specifically. In some cases it’s more like hashmarks tallying up the number of times something happened…

I hear lot of stories about it too, from a surprisingly wide variety of people when they choose to get vulnerable and tell us their stories. Men and women, just to be clear. They try to be casual or funny.  They’re not.  They try to tell me it was parental/relative ‘love’.  It’s not.  They try to tell me they deserved to be the butt of a cruel joke.  They didn’t. They try to tell me they’re over it, they’ve dealt with it; then their face crumples.

You can’t ‘un-hear’ things said about you.

I have tried.  And tried. And tried.

The point of this post is to raise self-awareness and propose some action.

I’m actually kind of tired of trying to define it, explain it and wrap my head around all of the phrases/off-shoots/hashtags/movements.  I think I found one way to cut through the crap and change the tide. And if this isn’t the way – at least it’s action while we re-group… 🙂

This all starts with individuals being kinder, gentler to themselves and those around them that are struggling with weight, body image, food issues…

That simple. (And hard…)

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I’ve enjoyed some amazing support. The one person who knows my whole heart, whole story?  My sis. 

Fat shaming is about actions and words.

Equally devastating.

The actions range from elbowing someone’s fat rolls if they sit next to you on a plane, not hiring someone for a job because you don’t like how they look, making pig sounds as they walk by….  Need I go on?

 

Words  What you say to someone can stay rattling around in someone’s brain for years.  (And years….)  We all know that.

{Use your powers for good.}

I’ve written this before; but the old ‘Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me’ childhood rhyme is utter bullshit.

Words wound. Words create. Words fill your heart with joy. Words build. Words destroy.

Words matter.

Deeply.

At the core fat-shaming – defined by Psychology today is ‘An act of bullying, singling out, discriminating, or making fun of a fat person. The shaming may be performed under the guise of helping the person who is overweight/obese realize they need to lose weight or they will die, become ill, and/or never succeed in life or relationships. Fat shaming is an individual bias against people who are considered unattractive, stupid, lazy, or lacking self control.”

For me the fat shaming started early.

Middle and High school were predictably the worst.

Now they would have called it bullying.

The worst was coming out to my car my Junior year.  Popular back in the day was the bumper sticker that said some version of ‘No Fat Chicks’.  A doctored version with the ‘no’ removed was stuck on my car.  I was being called a ‘fat chick’.  I suspected people thought it — this removed all doubt. I was a farm-girl in the middle of LA and I was fat.  I was an oddity no matter what… But my farm girl side had the tools; I pulled out some silver tape, covered the bumper sticker and drove home. A car full of high school boys were laughing and pointing and taunting. I knew all of them. My mom, both of us in tears, helped me scrape it off my car. We never told anyone. To this day it can make me cry if I think about it long enough. The tears then were for the cruel act.  The tears now are of sadness that my mom is gone, coupled with the deep gratitude and love for the woman, beyond that of being my mom, who knew what it was like to be ‘unacceptably large’ in our society.

Back then; my friends, relatives and most of the responsible adults around me just turned a blind eye.  I was told to ‘lose weight’ and the ‘mean comments’ would stop. So hard for me sometimes to accept friend requests on social media outlets from people who said things that 25 years later I still remember.  However, I friend these high school ‘friends’ because the only way to change the tide on ANY of this for ME is to forgive and do what I can to make things different for myself and others as we move forward.

You can’t embrace your future if you’re busy clinging onto useless bitterness tied to your past.

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My mom.

Workplace.  Dating.  Stores.  Restaurants.  Travel.  You name it — I have a story that relates to being embarrassed, belittled, made fun of, hurt. And before someone suggests it; these were not times where I was being overly-sensitive or reading too much into something. These were pointed comments and situations that were clearly aimed at me being fat in their space, them trying to ‘save me’ or simply ‘stating the obvious’.

I would bet solid money that most of you reading this blog have some stories that you could also share.

I also have the stories of having lost weight and people making comments that assure me they like me much better now…  In and of itself another form of emotional upset. “You’re pretty now!’, ‘Why are you still single?’ and ‘You must love your life now!’

I’ve been diving into this topic with both feet trying to learn what can be done to change the tide. And trying to learn how to help other men and women who struggle.  If you would like a little side-trip to understand just how pervasive this issue is, or you’re still not clear exactly what constitutes fat-shaming….  Google fat-shaming and click on the option to view images.  It should break your heart.

Fat isn’t the only thing shamed. Anything we deem ‘not normal’, ‘not acceptable’ with help from marketing and social media is fair game — right?  Since I was the former 392 pound woman; fat shaming is where my heart and brain lie. I can talk about being morbidly obese in the US.  And no longer being obese.  I can talk about both.  And I do. All the time.

It’s not like you can hide being fat/overweight/obese.

It’s not like I was fat/overweight/obese to piss anyone off, or make myself a target.  There were some really complicated dynamics behind my weight — as with ANYONE — and being shamed for it never drove me to do anything other than eat, hide, cry…  It never provoked the need to change.  Only to try to hide and to avoid people…

So you’re wondering what to do?

So am I to be honest.

I think we just have to start somewhere.  The following list is the best of the advice I could glean from the tumble down the rabbit hole of the  interwebs/books/podcasts/experts; so this is where I am going to start…

  • Be kind to MYSELF.  The worst, most destructive, most hateful fat-shaming is the shaming we do to ourselves.
  • Shut other people down when they say mean things about themselves or other people.  Support the positive.
  • Stop commenting on anyone’s food and clothing choices, how their body looks.
  • Comment on and praise actions, kindnesses, abilities, rather than appearance.
  • Don’t re-post, like or comment on mean-shit on social media.  It’s NOT funny.  What if it was ME, YOU or someone we loved the picture was captioning?
  • Don’t assume. I don’t know what someone else journey is, why they eat a certain way, what they’re facing, what health challenges exist in their lives…  Take one breath, one moment, adjust my thinking about the fact that maybe I don’t know what’s best for them.  Or what might hurt them.
  • Taste my words before I spit them out.
  • Use my ‘powers’ for good.

What have I missed?  What else would you add to this list?

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Just START!

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Spencer and I started this business, Novo Veritas, over 2 years ago.

I love it.  All of the work and hours and challenges and success.  More and more every day. It’s a hell of a ride, an intense privilege to work with our clients and we’re currently taking this business in directions neither of us ever dreamed possible…

My personal favorite part of the whole business adventure?  The privilege and honor of being invited into someone’s life at a time where their hearts and minds are more than likely vulnerable, ashamed, determined, brave, scared, fierce, focused and much more.  They invite us in.  Trust us with their stories, their history, their fears and deepest hopes.

And then sometimes, if it all works out just right, they even allow us to join their team.

Most of the people we get to work with approach us for one of two basic reasons…

  1. Tell me how to get started.
  2. Be on my team.
  3. (A close 3rd place would be….)  Hold me accountable.

In the past few weeks a handful of people have reached out to me asking how to get started – and how to build their own teams.  The following is a list I created about a year ago and pulled from one of my previous blogs.  And it’s still the advice I give, still what I believe in my heart.

AND it also happens to be the advice I wish I could have listened to when I got started on this journey to change my life.

 

Here’s what I wish I had been told.  And in the cases where I was told; I wish I could have embraced and BELIEVED it…

1. Your weight fluctuates.  Daily. It will go up or down during training.  If you have your period.  If you eat too much salt.  You smelled a cake being baked. The rotation of the earth. 🙂 Sometimes it’s really legit gain because you simply ate too many calories over a period of time. But you have to understand that your weight isn’t stable in the day to day. Not gonna happen. Quit even thinking it’s possible. And you know what?  It isn’t meant to be. You thought you got to a number and stayed there with just a little effort?  That this whole bodyweight thing was simple math and cut and dried?  Uh…  HELL NO.

2. Take measurements.  I really WISH I had known how big my hips or belly or thighs were at my largest.  I didn’t take measurements because — hell — who really wants to know that they have a 90” waist?  You will wish you had those body measurements for reference and reassurance in the process. At any point when you’re feeling ‘fat’, stalled, discouraged or just wondering how far your journey has taken you — you can pull out a tape measure and be assured, well beyond the confines of a stupid scale, that you were NOT gaining anything but muscle or fitness.

3.  Worry is wasted energy.  Spend time looking for solutions and opportunities.

4. And for the love of ALL THAT IS HOLY quit beating yourself up. YOU, who you are at the very CORE of your being, has nothing to do with the number on a scale or the packaging of your body. NOTHING.  Please, oh please, just believe me on this one.  I’m in tears writing this.  I am crying for you and for myself too. Because I know you won’t believe me, you can’t fathom what I’m trying to tell you… This is the last thing you can possibly wrap your mind around when you’ve battled your weight your entire life and a number is staring you in the face — a number you hate.  A number so large you didn’t know the scale went that high. I know that feeling of panicked desperation and hopelessness as well as I know the sound of my own heart beating. Text me, call me, reach out to me and I will spend the rest of my life relentlessly reminding you of your value to our world. And if you can’t believe yourself, then trust that I’m a way better judge of YOUR value than a stupid mechanical piece of crap you bought at Costco.

5. Don’t pick a number for a goal.  (See 1.) Don’t pick a clothing size either. That’s really just another number. Pick a feeling, activity, ability, destination.  You want to climb stairs and not be gulping for air?  You want to feel solidly OK with how you feel in your birthday or bathing suit? 🙂  You want to be able to hike, run, walk, move better….  PICK something that isn’t a transient, essentially meaningless, number.

6. Know that the BIG picture is worth all the little steps, mis-steps, concerns, questions, sacrifices. It’s hard work. It’s worth it.  They’re points of feedback and learning.  And this whole ‘get healthy’ thing is in NO WAY linear.  No way.  There is nothing direct, logical or straight about this path you are on.  And you’re going to be making shit up as you go.

7. Do NOT let that scale dictate your mood to the world.  So you can’t not weigh…  I get that, but we should keep working on that. 🙂   So you step on the scale and it’s up a bit?  DO SOMETHING about it.  Don’t be a bitch. Or walk around like someone ran over your dog. Or have a short fuse with loved ones.  Or start restricting food because you don’t ‘deserve’ to eat. Or start secluding yourself from the people you love because you feel you don’t ‘deserve’ their love or you’re deeply embarrassed. Stop allowing that stupid, effing, scale to affect your mood.  Reach out. You may not have great control over how you feel, but you can ALWAYS choose how you act and react.

8. Please, please, please love on yourself.  And believe in yourself.  Hang tightly to HOPE. Hope is powerful stuff. YOU will do this.  And you can’t see the day, but it’s coming; you will be healthy and happy. Your weight should not be allowed to dictate ANY of that.  You have so much to offer the world.  You’re an aunt.  A sister.  A friend.  A daughter.  A momma. A lot of really, really remarkable things that no one else in the whole entire world can possibly be! We were only given ONE of you. One. Do what you can each day to help yourself get healthy so you can be around and enjoy the life in front of you.

9.  This isn’t a short-term investment.  Trust the process. Life-time commitment. You will look at something daily and judge it as not moving, plateaued, failing.  HANG ON and look at this from the 3,000 foot view, look at this from a 365-day investment. You will see growth.  YOU WILL.  Really!  Keep at it.  You didn’t gain the weight over night.  You will not lose it overnight. Trite and irritating – but TRUE.

10. One of my favorite songs is ‘Live Like You Were Dying’ by Tim McGraw.  If you are like me you’re living this weight loss journey with a lot of fear.  Fear of going backwards.  Fear of judgement.  Fear of FAILURE…  The ‘what if’s’ can paralyze you…  Holy smokes.  The fear you have embraced and live with could choke an elephant. What if you could just enjoy the journey for what it was and live each day like you are trying to be your very best? Living like you’re dying doesn’t mean you live with no consequences for your choices.  It means you accept each day, each moment for what it is and keep moving toward the goal you want to reach…  (And for back-up… See this video by Brene Brown.)

Trust the process.

Keep moving forward.

Love on yourself.

Happy trails. 🙂

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Wearing my underwear backwards.

08_13_16_trrT_0506-ZF-7509-90007-1-001-014When I was 250+ pounds I used to wear my underwear backwards.

I had a pretty funny flash back to this forgotten and semi-embarrassing fact this morning running with my friend Carlea.


Last year I bought some running tights on super-sale from some obscure running site.  I do this periodically.  I get wonky, weird, off-season, running clothes bargains.  Once in a great while I find something amazing!  It’s all super cheap and a fun, daring, fashion-themed shopping-game of adventure.

This time around it was colorful running tights super cheap.

I show up to meet my friend Carlea at the Saddle for a run.  I wore the screaming-hot-pink tights today for the first time.  They… uh… were built weird. But they were really cute!  I told Carlea I figured I would get used to how they fit as we ran. (Always a bad idea.  Running clothes/shoes really shouldn’t need a break-in period… But in the face of cute/fun clothes; I always forget this ‘trail rule’.)

How weird was the fit? There was a ton of extra fabric in the front/crotch area and they were what we will politely call ‘plunging low rise’ in the back.  So I kept fidgeting with the stupid tights trying to keep them up over my butt.

We finally stopped about 3 miles in while I tried to figure out how to remedy the situation and keep running without flashing everyone in the forest. Carlea and I got to laughing — fairly sure I had to have the tights on backwards.  We checked.  Nope.  But, they sure seemed to be built backwards.

‘I think I figured out why they were on sale’.– Me.  Every time.

We got things sorted out and PG-rated for the rest of the run.  I got to chuckling.  I finally told Carlea that these tights were reminding me of a habit I had when I was obese.  I had kind of forgotten about it.

I have always loved the idea of having matching bra/panties. I just do. When I was obese and desperately wanted to feel good about how I looked and wanted to feel attractive – this duo always did the trick.  Cute undies was a near-daily goal.  When I was wearing a size 26/28 the options were limited.  Or ridiculous. Or really, seriously functional; steel belted bras with really wide straps, scratchy/ugly lace and cotton granny panties.

I finally, after years of searching and failed attempts, found a bra and undies set that matched and FIT and was cute.  I was so freaking excited!  I wore them all day at a conference, felt like a million bucks and was thinking I needed to go out and buy the dang undies in every color they made.  As I got undressed at the end of the day…

I discovered that I had in fact worn the underwear backwards all day.

They fit perfectly, totally ass-backwards.

Huh.

Why had they fit so well you might be wondering?  Well….  I was close to 400 pounds.  And I was built very much like an apple with all my weight in my belly.  With a really flat butt.  My belly was significantly larger than my butt.  So undies are typically cut to cover your bum and lay flat on your belly – right?  They didn’t work for me and my apple-shape.

But wearing them backwards worked for my body…

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Disney with the family.  And yes… I am about 99% sure I have my underwear on backwards in this picture. 🙂

So for about 10 years I pretty much always wore my underwear – cute or otherwise – backwards.  A problem accidentally and creatively semi-solved. I never admitted it to anyone, never advertised it.  But wasn’t proud of it by any stretch.

I was just too fat and misshapen to wear underwear normally…

So I adapted to what worked for me at that time.


So today Carlea and I were laughing over yet another clothing failure I snagged from a clearance rack.

I have lost weight and had the full-body lift surgery to remove 10 pounds of excess skin from my belly/waist.  While I am still built a little funny at my waist with some skin scarring and bumpy surgical ‘seams’ at the sides of my hips — I now have a pretty typical ‘runners’ butt and fairly flat belly.

NOW I can totally wear matching bras/undies if I want to – without having to wear them backwards. 🙂  (I just have to remember to pack them in my gym bag. 🙂 )

Turns out that even putting my underwear on can serve a daily reminder of how my healthy lifestyle now is so different than my Type 2 diabetic/obese days.

Carlea and I both had a really good laugh as I shared this story with her.

I managed to get back to my car and not accidentally show my bum off on the trail.

Today anyway. 🙂

*Screaming-hot-pink running tights are now free to a good home.

 

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Scabs. Type 2 diabetes.

I was running down a hill on Thursday night, looking at the stunning forest ALIVE with flowers, laughing with friends.  First sunny day we’ve had in like 2,000 days.  Ok.  Maybe 200 days.  But it was feeling SOOOO GOOD to be outside in the sun, running!

Then I fell.

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I was running one moment – and on my face the next.  No sensation of falling, no chance to catch myself.

Kissing the dirt.

Hazard of our sport. And not my first fall.

My friends Mark and Sarah heard me crash and helped pick me up.  We pretty quickly figured out I’d tripped on seemingly thin air.  And had somehow — YET AGAIN — totally avoided all of the major land mines that I should have fallen on. Roots, rocks — I easily could have smashed my head, broken a wrist or shoulder or rib and should have had far greater body damage.  Nope.  I landed on one rock and a bunch of soft dirt.

I am one LUCKY fall-er.

I jammed a finger and tore up a knee.  It knocked the breathe out of me.  Minor damage.


I used to be Type 2 (T2) Diabetic.  I was a T2 for over 15 years that we can effectively piece together and explain.  And one of the things that alerted everyone to my T2 being OUT OF CONTROL – was lack of healing with sores.

Around the start of my T2 diagnosis, I got a blister on my foot and 6 months later I’m in with an infection specialist and we’re talking about cutting part of my foot off.  My T2 was newly diagnosed and  I had not bothered to change a SINGLE thing in my life; I was waiting for the medicine to do it’s work.  I didn’t want to change anything.  I wanted to take the drugs and still eat what I wanted.   And that wound stayed consistently infected and increasing doses of varied antibiotics weren’t working.  It stayed infected, never scabbed up.

It refused heal.

And then once I was diagnosed T2, got on meds — healing to extremities were still dicey and scary for the next decade.  I was Slllooooowwww at healing.  Better, but slow. And it was something I watched all the time…

In case you’re wondering about the connection…  The medical explanation is that high/uncontrolled glucose (T2)  impairs healing.

(‘Higher or poorly controlled glucose control means a wound cannot receive adequate nutrients or oxygen, resulting in slower and less effective wound healing. Nerves in the body of a diabetic patient are affected when blood glucose levels are uncontrolled, which leads to a loss of sensation or diabetic neuropathy.’ — diabetic advocacy website)

Regardless of the medical explanation — I can tell you from ‘field’ experience that when my sugars were high; healing from anything was slower if not nearly impossible.

The first year I was learning to run, 5ish years ago, I was still trying to get off of insulin and figure out how to use food and exercise instead of drugs. I was still T2.

I would carefully, compulsively check my feet after every run.  I have diabetic neuropathy in both feet, can’t feel significant portions of each foot to this day.  I have ripped an entire toenail off and never knew it until I took my shoe off. (Trail running friends are like ‘COOL, damn… That’s so lucky to not have feeling in your damn toes!’ My other friends are pissed I didn’t warn them about this gross description.)  But my feet could get hurt, I wouldn’t feel it and weeks could then go by with me having an open wound…

Fast forward.

I face planted on Thursday night during our weekly ‘franking’ run.

I’m off insulin (4+ years) and no longer T2 (3 years).

It’s Sunday and…  wait for it…  I HAVE SCABS!

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I’m healing so fast and well.  It stuns me.

 

I mean, I’m hella sore.  I tried to run yesterday and my body rebelled.  So I rested. Hard  🙂  It was the right thing to do.

But today — I’m like 100% better than yesterday.  I have bruising showing up in the normal patterns, I am forming scabs, the muscle soreness from coming to an abrupt and involuntary stop is already getting better.

My healthy body continues to amaze me.

She’s kind of badass sometimes. 🙂

The chance for me to have ruined major organs and really done a whole lot of damage to my body as a T2 diabetic were HUGE.  And yet here I am…  Self-inflicted trail-wound healing beautifully and fast.

I’m healing like a normal person.

I never thought a scab would be exciting.  But it’s such a sign of progress and health and healing for me…  In more ways than one.

Life is good.  Run happy. (Stay upright!)

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