Potty Emergency

We're friends, right?

Like I can pretty much tell you anything and you can handle it?

I know what you're thinking right now, "What the fuck is she talking about?" Well, I think it's time to address the proverbial elephant in the room and talk about potty emergencies.

I'm not talking about the 'I really have to pee' moments that can happen anywhere like in the car, or on a run, or even at work. I'm talking about the times when your stomach cramps so bad that you just might wreck your car. Tears come to your eyes as you double over in pain and you pray for death to come quickly. The times where you start sweating profusely and seriously contemplate shitting your pants just to get rid of the pain! Yeah, those times.





Maybe you have experienced this yourself at some point in time. Maybe you have been able to make it to the bathroom just in time (oh, sweet baby Jesus thank you!) but have you experienced this in the middle of a run about two miles from your end point?

 

What do you do? Do you simply veer off course into the woods and use a sock to clean yourself up? Do you pooper scooper that shit (literally) and take it with you? If you do decide to just go, do you take a picture of it to savor the moment when you are done and send it to your friend? (I bet you do!)

Personally, I have always been able to complete my run straight into a bathroom. I have an irrational fear of spiders injecting venom into my massive ass cheek that prevents me from taking a dump in the woods so thankfully I have not had to poop so bad that I couldn't wait. It is bound to happen though, one day. I have read though that some marathon runners simply shit their shorts and keep on keepin' on. *Insert dry heaves here*

(Side note: In boot camp, if you vomited the Drill Instructors would make you pick it up and put it in your pocket to carry that around with you all day long. It was revolting! I never puked in boot camp. I'd hate to see what they would do if you took a shit on a run.)

Perhaps I should just start running with this?

Comments? Suggestions on how to avoid a potty emergency? Have an epic poop story that just must be shared? Let me know!

The Longest Run

Four weeks ago, The Punisher took me on my first run. The road was flat, the temperature was perfect, and I was ready. Then...I was heaving, sucking air like a banshee, and barely able to lift my feet off the ground.

I didn't even make it 100 yards. He pushed and pushed but I could only make a run for a few yards at a time and we only did a mile in total. I was disappointed in myself, I wanted to crawl under a rock and hide forever. Problem was...there isn't a rock big enough for this FBG.

After a couple weeks of sporadic mile long run/walks at home I did a run that was a killer up hill battle and I injured my knee. I couldn't run anymore. I wanted to but I just couldn't. I have slowly been in recovery since then. But a couple days ago I was able to do an actual run with The Punisher again. It was a little less than a mile and the very same killer hill.

I did it.

Finally.

It sucked.

Mostly.



I was so proud of myself for finishing it because I did the whole thing without stopping and only had to walk halfway up the killer hill, the rest was a run at a 17 minute pace. Not bad for a fat girl huh?

Today I planned a longer run. I wanted to see if I could go farther than I ever have before and I wanted to work on my pace. I brought a friend with me this time who had never run before, I was about to get the challenge I needed to push myself. I just had to beat her, no matter how fast (or slow) she went, I had to be faster and get there first. It was my own little personal challenge.

I got to prove my stuff to her that after only two weeks of running I could do this. To show her that it was never easy but look what I can do now and you can too with just a little dedication. (Of course, my super duper flying shoes helped too!) It was nice knowing that a girl who is nearly two times smaller than me is definitely not as fit as I am after only a month of exercise. Imagine the possibilities!

1.66 miles later, heaving and sucking air like a banshee, I made it. I had to walk a couple times with my friend. I also did not make it up the new killer hill at the end of my run but I did try, next time I will defeat it. My friend was ready to kill me for pushing her so far and so hard. (I'd be willing to bet she challenged herself to beat me. Which is fine, except I wouldn't have let it happen.)

10 lbs

This morning was a bit of a shocker. I have been completely depressed for the last couple days since seeing my doc about not being able to do any cardio whatsoever. I can't run, I can't walk, I can't even do the elliptical, I've been watching my friends run and play, and I have just been whiny and sad the whole time. (I know, an FBG complaining that she isn't allowed to get off her ass? What is this world coming to?)

Finally, last night I'd had enough whining and got off my ass and went to the gym. I am allowed to do upper body strength training so I completely destroyed my abs and my arms. It felt good to kick my own ass and get out there again. I missed the aches and pains of weight lifting and the day after feeling of mild soreness.

Yes, I am still depressed that I can't run or do any cardio but here's the thing, even with all my bitching and whining, I have reached my first goal of LOSING 10 pounds.

I stepped on the ever dreaded scale this morning and there it was. A little arrow that pointed down and a great big 10! I literally screamed in my bathroom, frightening anyone within one hundred yards of my house and waking the kids.

The Punisher and His Punishment

The Punisher did it! He broke down and made the unexpected leap into My Hero-ville. Here is what he had to say about his journey. (Posted with permission.)

"I’ve been dreading it for weeks, but last night I decided to put myself through the 5k test and see how I’d do.  I’ve never ran three consecutive miles without stopping or walking in my life.

The dreadmill was set for no time limit, 4.5 speed, 2% grade, 3.1 mile length.

I was able to do it in 39:03, and then did a 2 minute cooldown at 2.5mph. 

Here’s what to take from this.

·         I was 275lbs not very long ago, and have never been a “runner” in my life.

·         I am living, literally, the couch-to-5k life right now.  Compounded by sitting on my rump in an office all day.  WE ALL ARE living this right now.

Photo Courtesy of The Punisher

·         If I can do this, YOU can do this.  You literally just have to make yourself get out there and do it.

·         Envision what you want, and make it happen.  Just…. do it.

My goal is 175lbs and a six-pack tummy by next Summer. 

My goal is going swimming next Summer at the pool and not being embarrassed to take my shirt off.

My goal is living a very, very long time.  Watching my son and little girls graduate.  Walking my daughters down the aisle at their weddings.  Seeing them have children of their own.  Being as healthy as I can be, for as long as I can be."

So yup, he's totally my hero. Without his motivation and inspiration I know I wouldn't be where I am. I couldn't be more proud (and envious) of him than I am right now. He did a great thing and he should be proud that he accomplished so much in just a few months. Now, I guess it's my turn.

Hills...Nature's Way of Saying, "Because, Fuck You."

I hate hills.

I don't care if they are small, long, steep, or gentle slopes that meander. I hate them. When I am running I dread coming up to the bottom of the hill. As I gasp for breath I look up and see that the top just keeps stretching farther and farther from my view and it goes on and on. Like the hallway scene in that movie "The Shinning."

It's terrible! Horrible! Because they hate me! Stupid hills.

This is the last hill before I get back to my house. This is the hardest hill I have on my run. There are around 7 hills in total out and back. But this one kicks my butt every time. It doesn't look bad right? So innocent and unassuming. That is until you get up to it and start your jog up it. Then it turns into some seventh level of hell with no end in sight!

And I met a new friend. This is her. She is always there to greet me when I get to my turn around point and I catch my breath but this was the first time she let me pet her. Tomorrow I shall bring her a carrot!

The Before...

You know those before and after pictures you see every where for every thing from weight loss to acne medication? I have come to despise them. It depicts people in the worst times of their lives and, as someone who was picked on all throughout her school age years, I can only imagine the names these poor people were called. They hate themselves and what they look like because someone shitty CEO of some shitty company told them that they aren't pretty enough or skinny enough. And WE believe them.

Of course we do! We want to believe them, we want to be someone totally different from who we are! They promised that if we use their products (not approved by the FDA) we will magically lose weight overnight and finally be skinny enough (results not typical)! Who wouldn't want that?

Well, I've tried nearly everything out there and nothing, literally not a single one of them, has worked. I followed all of the directions to a Tee and would maybe lose a couple pounds here and there. Alas, nothing made me lose weight overnight and I sure as hell didn't make me any prettier.

Don't get me wrong. I am totally comfortable with the person that I am. I am smart, I love animals and my friends and family, I love to tease people and be teased in return, I have a smart mouth that goes along with my quick sense of humor. I have a belief system that has nothing to do with a god and I trust in myself. That doesn't mean I have to like the way I look. Which I don't obviously. So I did it right. I went and talked to my doctor who told me what I need to do. Funny how I already knew what he was going to say.

"FBG you need to stop all of these fad diets, you're making it worse. Just eat right! No more fast food, period. No more soda, quit smoking, eat more salad and less bread, eat less red meat and more greens. Then after you do that, I want you to start exercising. Everyday."

"Everyday?!?"

"Yes. Every. Single. Day. And for the rest of your life," he told me. I was not happy with this decision but I am slowly making these changes.

So if I have to do this for the rest of my life I figured I'd better get started and I did. At least I have The Punisher helping me with the exercise every single day. I haven't had fast food and I quit smoking on June 25th of this year, my birthday. Here is my BEFORE picture taken just last night. I have lost two pounds from my heaviest weight of 242 pounds. The day of the 5K I will post the BEFORE and AFTER picture.

I Made a Friend

Last night was brutal. I made a huge mistake in recruiting a motivator who I will now refer to as "The Punisher." He listens to my whining but doesn't care, he ignores my sailor mouth, and has pushed me farther than I have ever been willing to go by myself. The bastard.

Here is an idea of my 60 minute workout: 3.0 miles on the recumbent bike (just to work up a sweat, a "warm-up" he calls it!) lunges, squats, a wall bounce thing that works your calves and ankles, 1 round of suicides (this gem of enlightenment had never been attempted by one FBG such as myself. Pretty sure I died there on that basketball court and my next of kin was already notified.) We did line hops, first forward and back then side to side, (also a giant pain in my ass amazingly enjoyable.) A short game of basketball was played thereafter which I was able to hide in a corner somewhere because I do not play. I did some curls, (with actual weights mind you!) and finally was able to sneak out before The Punisher was able to find something else for me to do.


After all that and about eight hours of recovery sleep, I decided to take a run this morning. 2.2 miles, uphill both ways (I am the only person on the planet that can find a road that is literally uphill in every direction), but I made a friend. He was a nice little friend, just crossing the road in front of me on one of the gentle inclines of my run. Yellow and black he hid in the grass after he raced across the road trying to beat the oncoming traffic.

I don't know about you, but when I run I generally think about things. Mostly they are things that are funny. Trust me, everything is funny when your legs are on fire and your lungs feel like they have collapsed. Even Marc Parent who authors the Newbie Chronicles on Runner's World thinks 'funny' is funnier when running, especially stupid things. So after meeting my little friend I asked myself, "Why did the turtle cross the road?"

Now, to a normal non-running person this would seem like the beginning of a joke for a small child. I assure you that this is not how my mind works. The answers to that very simple question ranged from the extremely mild "to get to the otherside" type jokes to "because some asshole keeps turning me around and taking me back to where I started!" to even "because the chicken I just slept with is back that way!"

By the end of my little tirade of answers to myself I was cracking up, out of breath, with legs burning like the lava fields in Hawaii. I made it all the way home on that little find, thank you my little friend! Hopefully I will make another friend tonight when I meet up with The Punisher again.

Let's Talk About Running.

Okay. Here's the thing. I am NOT a runner, never have been. I actually despise anything that makes me breathe hard and my muscles ache. Even SEX gets on my nerves sometimes (that's a lie.) Hence, not a runner.

Saturday was my first run since my 2001 Navy Physical Readiness Test, not including the fiasco I did a couple months ago. I was positive that I could at least run 1.5 miles with no problem. I mean I could do it 11 years ago without a problem, right?. (The PRT is a 1.5 mile run that had to be completed in 13 minutes and 30 seconds to pass, and just barely pass at that. Being the bare minimum kind of FBG, that was my time.)

So, after a LONG boring day at my 3x3 cubicle desk job it was time to meet up with my new 5K training buddies. I put on my spandex shorts (covered by another pair of loose shorts so as not to offend anyone,) a cool new running shirt (it doesn't absorb sweat so it prevents chafing,) and my brand spankin' new runnin' shoes (recommended by the skinny bitch at the shoe store.) I was ready to go. I felt great! I avoided mirrors at all costs, so of course I looked great too!

I arrived early to our designated meeting area, right near the McDonalds. (Thanks assholes. Who the hell meets near McDonalds before a run?) I stretched a little, looking like I probably knew what I was doing, and waited patiently for my friends to arrive. Once they did, we complained and whined for twenty minutes talked and joked a little but then it was time to get down to business.

How does one start running? Do you start walking then move your way up to a run? Do you just skip start and then run? Do you do that weird trip/fall/run thing? I had no clue. I opted for the walking and moving my legs faster until I was running approach and so did my friends. All runners will tell you that for a nice, comfortable, pace you need to be able to say a complete sentence without being too much out of breath. Well with this FBG any sort of walking fast or jogging will put me out of breath and unable to speak coherently. Usually it's filled with a bunch of cuss words strung together to make a sentence only sailors can understand. Eventually I got into a pace that was easy enough for me to keep and hard enough to feel the energy being used. It felt pretty good to get out there running. I was on fire! I wanted to keep going! I was ready to take on anything!

.10 miles later I was huffing and puffing, dragging my feet, and barely able to lift my arms. I cursed the heavens and I am pretty sure I was stuck in a level of hell attained by only those who are are Reese's Peanut Butter loving sinners. (Yes, I am hoping that you didn't notice the little point before the 10 so you're thinking "OMG you ran ten miles? That's GREAT." Yeah, I did that on purpose.) I did run a total of at least half a mile. Pretty good for someone who has to heft around 240 lbs.

I am a little sore, a little tired, and to top it all off...I'm doing it again tomorrow!

From failure to winner!

Welp...I just don't know how to say this but I failed.

Perhaps I started off too aggressive? Maybe it was the lack of support from my friends? Maybe it was just because I wasn't ready? In any case, I didn't even make it three weeks into my workout schedule. Life got in the way and eventually the need to sleep won out.

I admit it. I failed myself. I gave up. I didn't have the will power or the strength to continue. My brain was fucked into believing that I wasn't meant to exercise. All of the excuses I could think of I used to talk myself out of waking up and working out.

"Wake up Puella!" I finally screamed at myself. I was going on a cruise. 8 days and 7 nights sailing away to the Bahamas on the Fun Ship Carnival Freedom. We'd been planning it for two years. I couldn't wait. About a month before we had to go I realized that I didn't have a single outfit that I could wear in the Bahamas without sweating my ass off. I only wear pants and tee shirts here in the temperate NC so I had to go shopping.

I always told myself that once I was too fat to buy clothes at Walmart I would do something about it. Well, that time had come and gone without my noticing! Walmart has apparently stopped stocking clothing in my town that is over size 18. The clothes I wear now are 18 so I tried on practically everything and it was all too small for my enormous frame.

I was mortified because I was shopping with a friend who is much smaller than me and can find clothes easily. I was close to tears because I couldn't find any clothes to fit me. Eventually I settled on a couple pairs of shorts from the fatty section at Goodwill and some XXL shirts from Walmart. Now the cruise has a formal night that you can dress up and be pretty for a night. I do own one very formal, very pretty dress that I have worn only once before. I thought I would bring that on the cruise. I tried it on and immediately burst into tears when I couldn't get the clasps closed in the back.

I vowed that once I got back from the cruise I would start again. I knew I couldn't do it alone. I knew that I needed the support of my family and my friends. I found my inspiration in an old friend that I haven't spoken to in years. Next month is the anniversary of my shipmate's death. He died when his helicopter was shot down in Afghanistan with 30 other special forces guys. Jon "JT" Tumilson, U.S. Navy SEAL changed my mind.

3minutesout.org

We served together for two years on board the USS Port Royal. A ship like ours, with a crew like ours we became fast friends. I could talk to him about nearly everything and he would listen. Whenever I came to him with a problem, he would always tell me that I was "just making excuses" and to "get off your ass and do something about it, go crush it."

So that's what I'm doing. I'm crushing my excuses and now I am ready. I have signed myself up for not one but TWO 5Ks in the next three months. One of them benefiting JT and his brothers at Joggin' for Frogmen at the end of this month and the other a local 5K that I have managed to talk some of my friends into training with me.

If you have a moment, please consider donating to my fundraiser site for JT for the first 5K. It is appreciated and you are helping the families of these fallen heroes. Click HERE to donate or copy this address into your browser www.active.com/donate/jogginforfrogmen5k/gocrush-it

What I Learned

This morning was the first morning that I was able to use my employer’s new gym. I asked the husband if he would like to come with me. I didn’t want to go alone and he didn’t have any idea the last time he stepped on a scale. We hopped in the car around seven am and made the short trip into town. Once we got there, he hopped on the bike while I put my ass on the elliptical. Then I figured out how to use it and put my feet on it instead.

After ten minutes of the recommended level ten setting, I moved it down to level eight for the last twenty minutes as my military suggested workout told me to. According to Navy standards, I am to increase the levels not the time if it gets easy. I don’t see that happening any time soon.

At my twenty-minute time, the husband decided he wanted to go lift weights instead of keeping up with the cardio on the bike. Five minutes later he was done, five minutes after that my legs were jell-o and I was ready to go home. I did a cool down and left, but here is what I learned during my two completely military standard workouts.

I learned that I can complete fifty push-ups but I cannot seem to do it without bitching. I learned that I can run two miles without bitching (because I can’t breathe enough to do so.) I learned that the elliptical is a gift from the devil incarnate. I learned that I have muscles that haven’t been used in over twelve years. Most importantly, I learned that I can complete an entire workout (unlike my loving husband.)

First Things First

If you walk into the office at any time of the day, I can almost promise you that someone, somewhere, is shoveling food into his or her face. The smells waft from our break room like french-fries in a hot car. Sometimes I am able to figure out what the smell is but usually it just smells like rancid garbage.

Our small space is filled to the brim with cubicles and there is a warm body in each little cubby. Steadily they force feed themselves into morbid obesity (so did I.) At this time of year most of us are working 54 hour work weeks with only Sunday off. That doesn’t leave much time for making healthy meals and working out (some barely have enough time to shower regularly.) Most of us have fast food burgers and fries on a daily basis that contributes to the cholesterol overload in the body. We look like a cattle farm; all of us cows shoved into our own small space grinding away on our oats while the bosses fatten us up for the slaughter.

Sick of the same routine of eat, sleep, eat, work, eat, college, eat, work, eat. I approached my co-workers with the prospect of losing weight and working out. I was excited to share with them my newfound health inspiration. I was not as well received as I had hoped. They looked at me as if I had just taken away their last meal. It was that moment when that I reached down to take the dinner plate away from a hungry puppy that I lost my arm.

“Are you calling me fat?” was one response. Well, yes actually. I am calling you fat. I would not have asked you to come with me if you were one of the few who have been blessed with the skinny gene. So get off your high horse (lazy boy, couch, whatever else you use to sit on) and let’s take a walk.

Looks like I am on my own this time. Won’t they be amazed when 6 months from now, I will be at my goal weight, and they will still be chewing their cud in the cubicles. 

Amat Obesus Puella

Amat Obesus Puella means "The Fat Girl" in Latin, hence my name Puella Obesus "Girl Fat." No I don't speak Latin (idiot, no one speaks Latin.) If you're wondering who in the heck would name their child Puella Obesus...Stop reading this blog. Seriously. No one would name their child this hideous name (although Sage Moonblood and Apple are cutting it close!) (For all you Latin scholars out there I do realize that this may be grammatically incorrect. With that said, don't go correcting it. Google only allows so many name changes.)

That's me. The fat girl. Yeah, the one in the middle...what do you mean you can't tell? Clearly the other two skinny biotches on either side of me makes it easier?

I would normally say I'm proud of what I look like. Bigger is better, and all that jazz, but recently my five year old daughter has been able to out run me when we're headed for the cookie jar. This heinous act must be remedied! Not only is the little cookie thief small enough to fit through a key hole, she's as fast as a cheetah! A simple explanation of, "mommy made those cookies for herself," just doesn't seem to work with her. Her reply is generally something along the lines of, "catch me if you can fatty mommy!"

In case you haven't noticed, this blog is intended to be a humorous, rude, obnoxious, and sometimes down right dirty, journey of weight loss and lifestyle changes. If you are easily offended you have my permission to stop reading right now and browse to another blog or website that will adhere to your sensitive sensibilities.