Always on my mind

I've been fluctuating between losing my shit and canceling the surgery and being off-the-wall excited that I'm actually getting this done. I went looking for a picture that always sticks out when I think of the legend of Kelly Jelly Belly. It's of me around age 9 at my little cousin's birthday party. I'm wearing a tube top that no mother in her right mind today would let her daughter wear yet they were all the rage in the 70s. I have an insane look on my face waiting for my cousin to blow out his candles so we could have cake. My belly is enormous in that picture.

I couldn't find it but, oh, did I find some doozies. This whole process/situation borders on the absurd so when Willie Nelson's "Always on my mind" popped in my head I had to laugh (or I'd start crying and laughter is supposedly the best medicine). So here you have it. An absolutely ridiculous tribute to Kelly Jelly Belly. Enjoy the horrendous hair and clothes from the 70s and 80s (I started avoiding pictures in the 90s and stayed that way through most of the 00s). My weight may have gone up and down, I've been fit and I've been fat, but my whole life but the belly was always there. It was always on my mind.

Wish me luck! I hope to be blogging next from the flat and taut side of life!



Maybe I didn't love you




Quite as often as I should have




Maybe I didn't treat you




Quite as good as I should have




Little things I should have said and done


I just never took the time


You were always on my mind


You were always on my mind

The other side of the box

As I've progressed on my fitness journey I've sometimes thought about being a trainer. I feel like I have an understanding and compassion for how it feels to start out a fitness program significantly overweight. Through my experience with athletes of all kinds and the various programs I've read and followed for running or lifting, I feel like I have a grasp of the rationale behind doing things a certain way. The science and psychology of exercise intrigues me.

I've had the pleasure of running with my husband (who is not a regular runner) and coaching him through interval training. I try to be encouraging without seeming false, I try to give motivational cues -- like being to the halfway point or having a minute left on an interval -- without interferring with his thought process of how he needs to get through his run.

It's not as easy as it seems. When I go tp Xfit I have the advantage of having worked out with all the trainers at some point so I know how incredibly fit and inspiring they are. They walk the walk. At other places you might not ever see the trainer work out though. I hate, hate, hate, HATE WITH A PASSION shows like the Biggest Loser. I know so many people find that show inspiring and I think the people themselves are but trainers like Jillian Michaels who scream and yell irk the shit out of me. I've seen them at gyms barking out commands, pushing people beyond perhaps where they should go without a lot of regard for that individual's needs. It's not just about physical limitations, it's also about that fine line where you make someone work harder for you and putting someone completely off to doing it because they feel patronized.

Everyone has their own needs of how they need to be coached. Some people respond well to the "in your face" approach. Some don't. I'd never really given it much thought how I best respond to coaching until last night. I know I'm always appreciative of the form pointers and encouragement I get at Xfit but I hadn't considered what a coach could do to make me go to the next level.

Last night we had 10 minutes before the WOD to work on our "goat." Our goat being a skill that needed improvement. I like working on skills in that setting because I'm less afraid to try out new things without the chaos of a WOD happening or with the clock ticking against me. I thought about it all day what I was going to work on and I decided that I was going to overcome a fear and move up box heights for box jumps.

When we started I dragged out the 18" box. The owner looked at me and asked me what box I normally use. I told her the baby one (the 12"). She said good, work on doing the 18. I did my first round with no problem. No stumbles. I did the next round the same. I saw her come up beside me and put the 20" box. She didn't say anything, she just smiled and pointed. I smiled back and moved over. I did rounds 4-7 on the 20" box and I was pretty freaking excited that I hadn't tripped and fallen on my face.

Just before round 8, out of the corner of my eye I saw her go behind me. I thought "she better not be doing what I think she's doing." She came out with the 24" box. I told her there was no way. She said to just try it once.

I'm 5'5" (I claim to be 5'6" when scales are involved but I'm right smack in the middle). Twenty-four inches comes almost to my mid thigh. That's imposing to stand next to thinking you have to take off with two feet from a standstill and land on top of it. When the round started I braced myself, made a move toward the box, and couldn't do it. My legs just wouldn't budge. I walked away trying to shake off the fear but it was very much there. The owner told me it was all mental and I could do it. I don't know how but I found the courage to take off but I did and landed solidly on top. The rush, I can't even describe it! I've feared box jumps for 9 months now. I just assumed I'd always be on the baby box.

I did the one and I was going to move back down to the 20" box but I felt such encouragement and strength that I felt like it would almost be an insult not to finish out on the 24" box (unless, of course, I smashed my face and needed stiches). So I did it. The rest of the rounds on the 24. I don't think I've felt so accomplished at Xfit in a very long time. Of course, I sucked ass at the actual WOD but I had already met a major goal. There will be many more rope climbs, having to modify after the 2nd last night was no big deal.

I realized that coaching is harder than it seems. You have to read every person you're training to see what is going to motivate them. Elayne, knowing me for 9 months now, took the opportunity to push me but in a way where I didn't feel scared or intimidated. She made it fun. And I succeeded! I appreciate the styles of all our trainers but for that particular skill I felt like it was just the right time and person to get me where I wanted to go.

There have been so many other "right time, right person" moments at Xfit. One of the coaches running the last lap of a WOD with me. I was so out of breath but of course I was going to give it my all. Another time I was feeling completely done halfway into the WOD and a different coach said my form looked great and I instantly felt stronger. I can truly say I've benefitted from everyone who has ever trained me at Xfit. Last night was only the most recent accomplishment that I could never have done on my own.

Elayne took this picture of me jumping the 20". So add FOUR MORE inches to that and that's what I did. This picture is more about me doing something physical, it's about trust -- trusting Elayne and trusting myself -- and overcoming fear. This was a great moment in my life.

Tall Tales from the Trail

I think I might switch to Wordpress for my blog because I'm on my iPad way more than my laptop and I can't upload pictures from the iPad to blogger for some reason, which is why I don't blog as much as I'd like to.

Things are going well. I'm getting back into a regular running groove and I'm liking how that feels. I did the hill course from hell on Saturday and it was solid. I took 34 seconds off per mile! That's a big jump in one week. I never stopped to walk and I took on all the hills slow and low, just the way I used to.

On Sunday I did the trail run again with the goal being to run strong and try to get my pace down a little each mile. It was thunderstorms in the morning and when I got to the trail around 1 the moisture was starting to evaporate with the sun and it was downright steamy. I was congratulating myself for doing the trail in sauna-like conditions but by the end of the run I had a lot more to congratulate myself for. Apparently (not being a nature girl I wouldn't know this), snakes enjoy that kind of steamy weather after a storm. When I got to the turnaround which is near a really cool looking swamp, I came upon this little bastard:



An anaconda! It wrapped itself around my leg and tried to pull me into the swamp. Okay, not really but when I saw it I screamed out "Jesus Christ!" and a couple walking their dog up ahead of me said "Oh, you saw it. There's another one up here." So I jogged a little further and came upon this:



A black mamba! It chased me for a quarter mile at 30 mph! Okay, not really, but I was less than happy to see it. At the point it was close to my turnaround so I went up a little further, cautiously peering in the sides of the trail and turned around. The couple asked me if I saw another one and I laughed and said no, it was just time to turn around. After I passed the anaconda and the black mamba, I saw this:



A rattlesnake! It lunged at me with its fangs bared! Okay, not really, but my nerves were sufficiently shot by that point. I made it back down the trail and was within 100 feet of my car when the 4th snake of the day wiggled right under my feet as I was mid-stride. I screamed my head off! I was so done at that point. Is it any coincidence that my route was 6.66 miles? I think not! I was fighting evil the entire time!



After the dry heaves dyed down and I recovered a bit at home. I checked my splits. Were it not for snake mile, as I'm calling it, where I took the time to do some nature photography (from a safe distance) and talk with the couple about the infestation of snakes, I achieved my goal:



All miles were consistently faster and I would have had a much better overall pace than the 11:03 were it not for snake mile. But it's okay. I perservered, not only through the intense humidity but being accosted by venomous, deadly snakes!

Tonight I am running with my husband and my dear friend before we all go out to dinner. We're also bringing her son in the jogger stroller so it will be a real group event! We're doing it on pavement, in Old Saybrook, where I'm sure there aren't much more than tiny garter snakes hiding out in rose bushes far away from where we'll be. :)

(re)Training

It's been no secret that I haven't been in love with running for a long time. I keep signing up for races, I get through them at a decent pace, but I haven't put real effort into running for awhile now. Maybe November 2010? Probably.

I booked our hotel for Disney last week. I'm very much looking forward to the vacation, not so much doing the Goofy Challenge. I still have plenty of time to train but the time will go by fast and while I can wing it through a 4- or 5-mile race, there will be no winging it through 39.3 miles. I'll be damned if I have a repeat of the last time I did the Disney half at 250 lbs taking almost 4 hours. Four excruciating, soul-killing hours. I had great intentions of training and losing all kinds of weight when I registered for that event the previous March. I didn't. Pride made me complete that event even though I had no business being there. I was going to be damned if I had planned a vacation around it and had to spend the week seeing everyone in the parks with their medals.

I'm not in that position right now but it still could be a very miserable time for me if I'm not trained. So the fear of that and the realization that in 17 days I'll be off from running for at least 2 weeks, probably more, triggered what needed to off in my head.

Saturday was hill day. It was less ugly than last Saturday but still not pretty. That route was never easy for me, even at my running best last year, but it certainly was better. It dawned on me when I was about halfway through and hating life that the only thing that ever made me better on that course was doing it. Again and again and again. It was going to take persistence and constant effort to get back that ability.

Sunday I had a little pity party for myself, probably because of Saturday's run. I was going to go to the trail then decided not to. Then all those thoughts outlined above got the better of me so I went to the trail around 1 pm, the hottest time of the day. Part of my problem with motivation is pacing. I don't know how to do it anymore. We sprint and sprint and sprint at Xfit. Granted, my sprint is someone else's jog but when I take off at that pace for a medium distance run it's no wonder I'm done 1.5 miles in. The other night we did a 2-mile run but that was after 150 wall balls. It took me almost 24 minutes to do those 2 miles because my legs were destroyed. I didn't run the next day because of it. This all began a crappy downward spiral where I was once again questioning my ability to pull off even a 5K at this point.

As I drove to the trail I planned my strategy. I used to strategize all my long runs when I trained for NYC. It was calming to me and made me feel like I had some control over how I was going to perform. I told myself to: Just. Be. Consistent. Go out as slow as I needed to but finish the 6 miles at a controlled, even pace.

It went well. Overall pace for the 6 miles was 10:53. I'm not complaining. It's the trail, it's a long, steady climb for the first 3 miles, and it's the first solid, consistent run I've had in awhile. Miles 2 and 3 were within 6 seconds of each other even though I was still ascending the hill. Now that I have a little confidence back I know I'll get down on pace. It was a negative split and that's always a good sign.

While I was running it was nice to lapse back into distance thinking, something that was so familiar and comfortable for me last year. One of the best things I was able to do for myself fairly consistently was get the thought in my head at the very first step that I'd be out there for however long I needed to be but I was going to finish. That thought slows me down and puts me more in the process rather than counting the minutes or miles until it's over. Those thoughts come later in the run but I've had runs where I'm counting the miles from the second I start and those are the most miserable ones.

I need to work on retraining my mind as much as I do my body for distance running. Since so much of what we do at Xfit is for time it's natural to want to finish as quickly as possible. I can't say I've ever enjoyed the process of getting to that finish at Xfit but it's not a "ponder your thoughts" kind of working out. I used to enjoy the process of distance running (for the most part). Sometimes I liked thinking about things, sometimes I enjoyed letting my mind go completely blank. Maybe the difference between distance running thinking and Xfit thinking is that at Xfit my overriding thought is "Just survive." Survive the next rep, survive the next lap around the building, just keep moving and survive." When I'm doing it right, distance running has a different feel. "Just survive" has its place too, like in the last few miles of a distance race, but I don't usually start out that way.

After my run I stopped at the beach on the way home. I've lived in my town for 5 years but have never gone before. I must have still been enjoying the "it will take as long as it takes" thinking because I wasn't in a rush to get home and do nothing like I usually am. I have no idea how long I stayed, it could have been 20 minutes, it could have been an hour. I wasn't counting time, I was just in the moment. And that's probably the best thing I've done for my fitness in months.

Excising the Demon

I can't remember where I last left off with this blog. I'm sure I was whining about something or other. I don't know that much has changed but I'll try to keep the whining to a minimum.

I went on vacation. Last year at this time I had just started the 16 weeks of training for NYC so I made myself get up and run on my scheduled days while we were away because I didn't want to start out on a bad note. I didn't feel that pressure this year so guess what, I did nothing. That's not true, we got up one morning and I made up a fun mini-WOD: 5 park bench jumps, 10 burpees, 20 pushups, a run across the length of the parking lot and back. We did one round and said screw it. We just went for a walk after that. I don't think that's a bad thing, if you aren't enjoying something you shouldn't do it. Especially on vacation. We have obligations every day of our lives. Sometimes exercise is more of an obligation than an enjoyment. A lot of times, actually. So why not have a true vacation?

We went back to Xfit on Monday and it was hard but I'm glad we went back before it got harder. I really need to start tracking my WODs, at least the benchmark ones. I'm sure I've improved on both time and weight for Grace (30 clean and jerks) but I have no idea what I started at.

Yesterday was also a big day because I had my consultation with the plastic surgeon. It was about an hour drive to get there and I had a whole conversation in my head about what I was doing. I'll be honest, I cried as I worked through some of the issues kicking around but I would rather have had my meltdown in my car than in front of the surgeon. It's just so personal, all of this. It's confronting something that has made me feel so bad about myself my entire life. It was acknowledging the hard work that has gotten me to the point where I am today yet also accepting that I'll never be perfect no matter how much effort I put into my body. It was a rough 55 minutes in the car.

The surgeon was fantastic. I feel like I'm in the right hands (no pun intended) with her. I had brought pictures I had ripped out of Runner's World because I wanted to make sure my expectations and her deliverable was the same thing. You would think standing naked in front of someone who is staring at the very things you go through considerable effort to hide would be humiliating. It wasn't. Maybe in front of another doctor it would be. This surgeon specializes in reconstructive surgery after weight loss. I chose her because, deep down, I knew I would never attain perfection. I needed someone to understand where I came from and tell me where I could go.

We talked about my arms and she said that I had great muscles and good contours. She said I was in the best shape of any patient she's ever had. I'll take that! Granted, she specializes in putting people back together after massive weight loss but I'll take it. When I showed her the picture of my dream arms she said I wasn't going to get those results. She said the scarring, the healing, and the expense wouldn't be worth it for just a modest improvement. I was disappointed for about 30 seconds but then I realized that she was right. The woman in the picture hadn't been 100 lbs heavier (twice). My arms aren't terrible, the surgeon certainly didn't think so. I think I'd be more self concious with 2 giant scars and possibly asymmetrical shaping than I am now so I crossed that off the list.

We talked about my legs. She said thighs are incredibly hard to work on because they just don't heal well. She knew I was a runner and she said that she wouldn't recommend a thigh lift because I would be out of commission for months and probably wouldn't be happy with the results anyway. It would be painful, I'd have bad scarring, again, possibly asymmetrical shape, and only modest improvement. She said she would never do legs with the abdominoplasty anyway becuase it's too risky for complications and it makes healing that much harder. She said if I really wanted to we could talk in 6 months about it but she had a feeling that once I got the abdominoplasty I wouldn't care so much about my thighs.

Then we talked about the abdominoplasty. Again, I showed her the picture of my dream stomach and she said that I won't have a 6-pack but I would be flat and tight. She said she removes the excess skin and tightens the muscles from the inside. I guess my belly button will be relaigned because she said I'll have a scar from hip to hip and around my belly button. My waist will come in a little and my hips will too because she's pulls the skin "from all kinds of directions." It will be painful. VERY painful she wanted me to know. I'll have drains for 2 weeks. I thought she said I could run after 2 weeks but I think I misunderstood her. I think it was 4. It will take about 6 months to fully heal where I won't have tingling or numbness. I guess like a C-section.

It's happening though. I'm doing it. She thinks I'll be happy with the results and I'll see a big difference. I thanked her for her honesty and told her that I've been watching plastic surgery shows my entire adult life and dreamed I could go in and come out with a whole new body. She said she doesn't believe in that and doesn't work like that. I have to respect her philosophy. I was standing in front of her clearly with desperation in my eyes ready to pay as much as I had to. She isn't taking me down that path. If anything, I left that office feeling better about myself than I had in a long time, not hyper aware of my faults.

So August 17th is the day. Three weeks from tomorrow. She told me to up my vitamins and my calories (hah!). I'll be one night in the medical center (which the coordinator told me is like a spa and I won't want to leave). She stressed NO EXERCISE after until she clears me because I could get fluid buildups called seromas and I'd heal all funky and be mishapen and need another surgery. I will heed her advice. I want to do this once. I'll lay flat on my back for 2 full weeks if I have to. I'm not messing around.

I'm happy! When I paid the coordinator and it was a done deal I felt such relief. I'm doing this. I'm excising the demon (like how I did that, not exorcising, excising?) that has made me hate my body, at least a part of it, for my entire life. I hope everything goes well and that I truly am happy with the results but to have gotten to this point where I am actually doing this instead of wishing I could or resenting that I didn't is really awesome.

Last night after the WOD the trainer said if we wanted to do abs to grab a 10-lb plate and get on the floor. For a gleeful second I thought "Why bother? I'm just getting this shit cut off anyway." HAHAHA! I did them though. And will continue to. It was just my own internal happy dance that my stomach will not be my focus in a few weeks.

Life is short, skip cake

This entry isn't about fitness directly. It's about going to the wedding of my dear friends and having a great time. But when I think about having a great time there was so much that went into it and that, I know, is all about fitness.

For my whole life I have never been the same size for consecutive seasons never mind consecutive years. Mostly it meant going up sizes (and up and up). If I lost weight I'd immediately get rid of my fat clothes with the very best intentions of never needing them again. And then months later I'd have to spend a small fortune buying clothes because I was back up to where I was if not bigger.

Special occasions have always been a source of panic for me. The week before an event I would search my closests in vain for somethig to wear. The pretty dress I would plan to wear would no longer fit. Frustrated and depressed I'd go to the plus size department of every store in the mall desperate for a dress that fit and would make me feel pretty. I'd find dresses that fit (eventually) but I never felt pretty. I felt fat.

Yesterday I was running around the house in my usual pre-event panic but it was about hair and makeup and necklaces and a purse. As I was waging war with the curling iron still not dressed 5 minutes after we were supposed to leave I had a terrifying thought: what if the dress I was planning to wear didn't fit? I last wore it in January. I didn't try it on before wedding day because all my regular clothes have been the same size since then. But I was so conditioned to have that disappointment of a dress not zipping, or zipping and not being able to move my arms, or seeing the fabric that was supposed to drape stretched tight across my stomach. I shook it off, declared victory over the curling iron, and put on the dress. Size 6. Same as it was in January. It looked and fit just fine.

At the wedding I saw friends I hadn't seen in awhile. Another special occasion panic I've always lived with is thinking about the last time I saw someone and trying to remember if I was bigger or smaller then. I didn't have that fear. I hugged hello, I smiled, I was complimented. I met new friends of friends and didn't give a thought to what my appearance was. I felt good. I felt like I fit in.

And I danced! A LOT! I think the last wedding I danced at was my own almost 14 years ago. I forgot how much I liked to dance. I also did it in 4 inch heels (my xfit friends will remember the shoes I climbed a rope in -- those!). Men and women told me how much they loved my shoes. People came up to me at the end of the wedding and said they were in awe that I kept them on the whole time. That was a first! I've never thought of myself as being light on my feet but I know I wouldn't have been able to even walk across the room in heels 100 lbs ago. And there I was dancing in them.

I enjoyed dancing so much that when I sat down to eat cake and a song came on that I loved I jumped up and left my cake where it was. I've had a lot of firsts this year but that was a serious first. I picked dancing over cake! I didn't even know that was possible!

I know all these things were important and different to me but I didn't think anyone else noticed or cared. They did though. A few of my friends said "gay wedding Kelly is so fun, she should come out more." They're right. I was fun. And I should be that happy, fun version of myself whenever I'm fortunate enough to have the opportunity to celebrate these special occasions in life. I've already wasted so much of my life sitting at then table watching everyone else have a good time. It was my own doing, it was my own hangups that prevented me from having fun. Not anymore. Life is way too short.

So this wasn't about fitness but it was. I wouldn't have had so much fun if I were still trapped in my old body and my own mind. And that's ALL about what fitness has done for me.

Will the real Kelly please stand up?

Yesterday I went for a trail run, the first one in a long time. I had every intention of making it to Xfit but I didn't. Slept until 10:30 as a matter of fact. I didn't feel rested when I woke up though, I felt sad. I've been feeling sad a lot lately. Sleeping late is a indication of that. I find it harder and harder to face the days lately. But I made myself go to the trail and I parked in the usual line of cars along the road. All the weekend warriors, cars I recognized, some I didn't. I looked at the stickers on their cars: Ragnar Relay, 13.1, biking stickers, ultra marathon stickers -- the stickers of athletes. I have a few on my car: 26.2 and Tough Mudder. I was so proud to put those stickers on. But yesterday when I was getting out of my car I wondered if one of those other sticker owners saw me getting out they would think "Oh. She must be driving her husband's car." I don't feel like I am what I want people to think I am when they're driving behind me.

The run was tough. Why wouldn't it be? I've avoided distances like the plague. It wasn't a bust, it just showed me I have work to do again. I know it's nothing I can't do and nothing I won't do, it's just something I don't really want to do.

I thought about what it is that drives me to sign up for the next big challenge. Is it because I truly get something out of the experience? Is it because I want another medal? Another sticker on my car? Is it to prove people wrong when they see me as one thing and I can pretend to be another? Is it out of love for the sport or self-loathing?

Self loathing. Something I do every day. I look in the mirror and I don't see what those stickers on my car say I should be. I see bat wings. Saggy thighs. A gross stomach. I see someone "passing" for normal if you don't look too hard. We all have horrendous childhood stories that have scarred us for life, I always think of 1: going to summer camp for the first time and a kid jamming his finger into my stomach and telling me I was fat. I went and cried behind a tree, it hurt -- he wasn't gentle about it, but I hurt more inside. I've heard Kelly Jelly Belly more than I care to count. I know I should be over the taunts of children but that stuff stays with you, especially if you never learned to say "Fuck you, I'm better than that." I feel like all the challenges I've chased have been my way of saying that but I'm always the same person at the finish line.

I'm going to be forthcoming about this because I feel like I have nothing to hide. I have a consultation on July 25th with a plastic surgeon. I've thought about doing this for years and years -- the first time I lost weight, when I gained the weight and told myself that if I had finished out the process I wouldn't have gained it back, and when I lost it again this time. I'm looking to get abdominoplasty and possibly my thighs done. Truthfully, if she would do it all in one shot (she won't), I'd get a total overhaul: boobs, arms, stomach, thighs, butt. The recovery time would be brutal though and I have all those events coming up. Again: doing it for me or doing it to run away from me? The fact that I am even considering needing to account for training time in my cosmetic plans tells me I do actually get something out of these things but not enough, apparently. Not enough to accept me for who I am.

My husband is concerned, of course. He loves me for who I am. He's proud of my accomplishments. He'd rather I not have any surgery. But he understands how I feel about this, he has for a long time. I think he's also worried that I may end up with a flat stomach but it will just make me focus on something else I hate. I wouldn't say he'd be wrong there. I told him that if I could get my appearance to match my ability I'd have the confidence to do so much more. I said if I got this done I would train for the Xfit Open next year. Truthfully, I could train without having a flat stomach. Should CrossFit only be about being able to wear tiny shorts and knee socks? Shouldn't it be about the average person who achieved amazing things? I'm not that brave and I'm not that foolish. I know I'm using my appearance not to push myself harder to be a true athlete just as I know we would all rather look at smoking hot bodies in bra tops with ripped abs.

I've got some mental homework to do. I need to decide if this is truly about shedding my skin (literally) and emerging as the athlete I've worked so, SO hard to be or if this is chasing an ideal of perfection that I physically won't be able to reach. I need to give some hard thought to who I am and who it is I want to be. Am I the girl who can own those stickers on her car or one who is always going to let self-doubt ruin the experiences that so much work went into having.