Get Out of the Road, Fatty!

Countdown to the Half:
Day 6:

Clearly, I have underestimated the amount of hills and lack of actual sidewalks there are in the little town in which I work. The plan was to get off work at 6pm, change clothes, and do a quick 4 mile out and back (and by quick I mean less than an hour of running.) When I started it was daylight and my choice of black spandex running tights and a black shirt was just fine (for running in at least, but it's quite possible that the viewing pleasure of others was slightly disturbed.) Unfortunately, as my mileage increased so did the darkness and my choice of attire was obviously not wise. Sometimes I forget that I live and work in the mountains and when the sun decides to go down for the night, it goes down very quickly, and it gets very dark.

You can't really tell from this pic...but those are HILLS!

I ran past all the outdoor patio eateries that we happen to have here, which is an ungodly amount for some reason, and they smell fucking delicious! Obviously the people stuffing their faces were extremely jealous of my excellent running form because they all stared at me with their mouths open and the fork frozen in place half way to their face. I seriously contemplated stealing a french fry from a few plates as I ran past...it wasn't like they needed to eat it nor would they get up and chase me.

There were a few times I was forced preferred to run in the road due to some snow stubbornly remaining in the shady parts of the sidewalk or a lack of sidewalk at all. The road I chose to run on is a main thoroughfare and I had to watch out for the people who always obey the laws and do the speed limit shitty fucking drivers.

I, of course, had my head phones in and my music blaring because I am a dissociative runner (it's a thing, I promise, look it up) and I must have distractions. I start to make my way up one of the many steep and steady hills toward the cute little town and suddenly, out of no where, I start hearing horns honking and cars start flashing their lights at me. I proceed to get so excited that I wave to each vehicle with a gigantic smile on my face and my arms flailing about as if I just won a million dollars. I think to myself, "wow, this town is just great, look how supportive they are of FBG runners!"

After a few moments I began to wonder if they were really encouraging me or just saying, "get out of the road, fatty!"

Countdown to the Half Days 2 - 6

Day Two: Today I was supposed to do "Stretch and Strengthen" which to me meant I got to try out what others had told me was the most amazing workout I would just love.

Yoga.

Let me just tell you. I do not love Yoga. I do not think I could ever even learn to love Yoga. Yoga and I have tried to be friends and frankly, Yoga's a bitch. FBGs are not meant, in any capacity, to attempt a yoga position.

It started off well, sitting on the floor (my favorite place) and it involved a closing of the eyes to concentrating on your breathing. Easy enough, right? WRONG. First, I can't close my eyes! I had to watch the fucking video on YouTube because I had never done Yoga before. Second, I apparently forgot HOW to breathe in and out in a consistent manner. I held my breath nearly every pose and when I felt like I was going to pass out, I would let out this huge huff of air and suck it back in to hold again for another pose. By the end of the twenty-three minutes of the most annoying bitch voice ever a soothing voice, I was out of breath and still hadn't stretched a single muscle. I realize I was doing it all wrong and probably should've went to a beginners class, but once I was face down on my hands and knees and the German Shepard decided that would be a good time to mount me...I gave up. I lifted weights for the next thirty-five minutes and did my own stretching and felt great.

Day Three: 3 mile run. S-U-C-K-E-D A-S-S. It was the first run I had to do and it had snowed the night before about a foot deep. This meant that I was running on the devil incarnate instead of nice forgiving asphault. I did it and only bitched about it for an hour. Pretty good.

Day Four: I was looking forward to today! Only two miles and I got to run OUTSIDE for the first time. It was sub-freezing weather but I really did not care. I put on my brand spanking new cold weather running pants which sucked in all the fat and kept my legs from jiggling too much. They are awesome! I ran the two miles the fastest I have ever run two miles and it felt great. I used a pacer app that I had set for an ambitious 14 minute mile (I have never ran a 14 minute mile since leaving the Navy) and I did it! I even impressed myself. I wanted to go further but I promised myself to stick to the plan for two reasons: 1) I had someone else to blame if I failed and 2) I did not want to injure myself again and have to pull out of the half.


Day Five: I was not looking forward to today. It was another 3 miles on the devil incarnate and of course...it had snowed another 2345345 feet or so, give or take a few inches. I grabbed my iPad and turned on Netflix to The Fluffy Movie and watched it. I was laughing the entire time and completely forgot that I was running. I ended up doing more than I had planned because I was so enthralled with Fluffy losing over 100 lbs and telling his super awesome story. And!!! I will have you know I didn't bitch about the run at all!

Day Six: And on the sixth day the FBG rested. May the training God's rejoice for this day I give thanks!

Half Marathon

Shit. I've gone and done it now. I have somehow conned talked myself into running a half marathon. I'm not exactly sure what has possessed me to sign up for said half marathon. Apparently, I have lost my last ounce of sanity in nursing school and I believe I can do anything!

This is probably how the conversation with myself went:

"Hey FBG, you've been running for a couple weeks each month for the better part of a year. Maybe you can run a half?"

"Are you nuts? You know that's like 13.1 miles, probably up hill the whole time. Of course I can't run a half."

"Okay. Lets sign up for one."

"Sounds awesome. Lets do it."

And so I did. Bought and paid for. I was even so excited that they had a "finisher" medal that I wrote a training plan and it starts tomorrow. Just so you know, everything I ever "start" starts tomorrow.



I asked my friends if they wanted to join me. All 200+ of them on my friends list on Facebook were so excited that they didn't even say they would. I assume they went right out and signed up without telling me and I will see them there on the starting line. Although, I did manage to beg and plead ask one nice FBG bestie club member to sign up with me. On a serious note; she has been my rock through this whole thing. Even though we don't get to see each other much, she was always willing to take a run with me and she always stuck by my side (even though I know she can run much faster than me and she has proven it.) She may think I am insane but she will be right there with me and we both will get our clean white self-huggers at the same time!


The website says that the cut off time is 3.5 hours to run the race. "Plenty" of time for "walkers" they said. I figure it takes me an unholy hellish amount of time a little under two hours to run 7 miles. I think I will eat up every second of the 3.5 hours but I might just make it. I just might get that medal.

P.S. My new hero is T-rex runner. Click the name to read about her. Her blog is not only funny but she is basically a smaller version of me. She doesn't know it yet but we are destined to be best friends common acquaintances.

The Hiatus and the Return to Hell

Since that fateful day in October (aka race day) I have gone down hill, fast.

My inspiration and motivation was gone and my spirit was broken. I was convinced that I was just no good and I wanted to give it all up. I wasn't losing the weight fast enough and those who were once proud of me and encouraging had stopped being so helpful. I continued to run each day but my heart was no longer in it. The depression monster came back and weaved its dark shadows through my very soul and even a new pair of running shoes couldn't take me out of its grasp this time. Not to mention that the weather turned cold very quickly and if you remember how much I hate early morning runs then you'll be happy to know I despise cold runs too!


Thanksgiving day I was scheduled to run another 5K but this time I had not trained properly for it and I was dreading it with a passion. I had gone from running four or five miles at a time, five days a week, to doing intervals only a couple times a week (a mixture of walking and sprinting.) It improved my stamina and time on the distance runs but I couldn't get past this block that I had put up. My brain wouldn't focus on getting the job done and eventually I went from intervals to walking only. Then I just stopped working out all together which killed me because about the time that I would normally go for a run my legs would turn to fire. What doctors call restless leg syndrome.

When my running partner sprained her ankle a couple days before the race I totally used this as my excuse not to go. I also used it as my excuse to not run for the next three weeks as well. I don't regret not going to the race though. That morning it was 19 degrees! OMFG! I regret that I had pretty much given up on myself and was starting to feel guilty. Really guilty, which made it all that much worse, and now I really didn't want to workout any more. That is until I went back to work and an old friend that I hadn't seen or spoken to since October called me up and conned me into asked me nicely to join her at the gym today for something called "bootcamp".

(Side note: I've been to bootcamp and I didn't like it then either!)

I was excited to go but I was also nervous. I was worried that I would be the only Fat Bottom Girl there and I didn't want to make a complete fool of myself. I told myself that if she could do it then I sure as hell could do it too. I showed up at 8:45 am (I know right?! A morning workout?! WTF was I thinking?!) and met her at the door. She greeted me with that shit eating grin of hers and asked me if I was ready.

"Fuck no I'm not....Let's go in, I'm already here." I replied. It was 22 degrees and I just wanted to get indoors.

9 am the workout from hell started. My heart thumped in my chest so hard I was afraid it was going to flop out onto the floor. My legs were burning so much they could've started a forest fire and to top it all off I couldn't breathe. I heaved to suck in air, hoping to get the much needed oxygen to my O2 starved limbs to no avail. I was just going to have to suffer through it or pass the fuck out.

Just then the four foot nothing, beast of a woman barked into her headset to take a break and get some water. Thank God! Glancing at my watch on the way to my water bottle...9:05 am. That was just the warm-up. Sweet baby Jesus I was in for 55 more minutes of this hellish torture.

I made it through with only a couple bumps and bruises. I didn't pass out, I didn't puke, I did do the entire workout, and I did finish it without bitching, not one single time. (I couldn't breathe well enough to bitch or I probably would have.) Five minutes after the workout I signed up for the gym membership and I have dedicated myself to go three days a week and still do a run on the weekends. It's time to get back on track and get back to work! Thanks buddy (you know who you are) for giving me that call!!

And the After

Today was the day. It was race day.

I promised to post the before and after picture on the day of the race. (If you don't remember here is the post.) Tonight was the first annual Night of the Ghouls 5K that my friends and I had been training for. I've sat back and watched as each one of them has given up or quit because it was too hard. I don't blame them at all. If it wasn't for the support and encouragement I received from friends and family I would've quit too. It is hard to change your entire life, your way of living. I know, I've done it. Without a support system everyone is bound to fail.

I keep getting messages that I am the inspiration for someone to get off the couch. While I love hearing those sorts of things I can't be your only reason for doing it. You need to make that decision for yourself and for your life. Working out, losing weight, being a completely different you, this is a change that in order to stick you have to be motivated by reasons much deeper than you see me doing it. For months now I've been sweating and beating myself into the ground for this one race, when in actuality, I've changed my entire life. Not necessarily for this one race but for all the races I'll ever run, because I want to see my kids graduate college and have babies of their own and see those kids graduate college. I want to live as long as I possibly can and I simply cannot do that if I can't even tie my own shoes without being short of breath.

Not everyone has quit because it was too hard. One of my friends, that I was so very proud of for even trying, had to pull out because of an injury just two days ago. (She happened to be in my head as my first competitor. I looked at her as if that skinny bottom girl could do it then I had to beat her as a fat bottom girl right? Does that mean I win by forfeit?) I'm disappointed she made the decision not to race but it is for her own health and well being that she did.

As for The Punisher? (Because you all keep asking me about him!) He began a training program to run in a Thanksgiving day half marathon! He knew, after a little while, that this 5K was going to be too easy for him. Unfortunately, his body had other plans and forced him to pull out of that a couple weeks ago. So this 5K was now a recovery race for him. He finished the race in 23:03 a personal best for him and taking 6th place over all and 1st place in his age group of 30-39. I couldn't be more proud of him.

For me, it was the culmination of all that I've worked for. I finished the race in my best time for that track yet 52:43 Only 43 seconds longer than my last time. Not my best time ever unfortunately. I ran 7 miles two days ago and jacked up my knee a little so by the end of this race I was hobbling my way through the finish line. I do not plan to ever stop running but I do believe that competitive racing is out of the question for now. I'm a slow runner and I simply can't keep up with all these young athletes. That's not me giving up, that's me admitting when I have reached my limit. I love to run and a 17 minute mile run is still a mile ran. So competitively I am out of the race, but running just to say I did it, I'm totally there. Next up is a couple more 5K's and ultimately a 10K.

So here it is, the before and after stats and pictures. (Sorry the pics are so blurry, I'll do better ones next time.)

Before (June 25th, 2013):                                 After (October 19th, 2013):

Weight: 242 lbs                                                 Weight: 217 lbs
Chest: 56 in                                                       Chest: 42 in
Hips: 54 in                                                         Hips: 43 in
Waist: 54 in                                                       Waist: 49 in
BMI: 44.3                                                          BMI: 39.7

Before

After

While you may not notice a difference in the pictures. I have definitely noticed a difference in my life. I'm not out of breath when I get out of my car and come in the house. I can tie my shoes by simply bending over. I can run a total of 7 miles now without stopping when three months ago I couldn't even do 100 yards. (The thought of 7 miles back then would've killed me.) I can also walk from one end of a parking lot to another without being winded.





What I'm saying is, yes, you can do this. Anyone can do this. It doesn't matter how big, small, short, or tall you are. Weight loss is something that CAN be achieved as long as you stick with it, and trust me, you don't need some magic pill to get there. Keep yourself from being discouraged by finding yourself a weight loss buddy. If you can't find one, email me here. I'll be happy to keep you accountable and send you encouragement!

The Chub Rub

I went for a run with a friend the other day and she informed me a few days later that she had acquired "The Chub Rub". I, of course, had no idea what she was talking about and immediately burst into laughter. Obviously, I had to ask what it was and apparently it is any part of your body or clothing that rubs against your skin causing friction, irritation, skin loss, and even pain. Basically, when fat bottom girls run, their whole body rubs against itself and this "Chub Rub" can occur. For women, it can occur on the thighs (usually), in the crotch area, and under the breasts, although it can occur other places as well. For men? Well, let's just say it is as unpleasant for them as it is for us. It's like a diaper rash for adults.

I had not personally experienced this hell yet because I normally wear men's biker shorts and a really tight sports bra when I run, preventing the friction. However, when my first pair of biker shorts fell apart at the seams I resorted to using a regular pair of shorts. I then knew what holy hellfire awaited me exactly one day later when I attempted to go for a run again.

The pain was indescribable. It's as if you have torn away layer upon layer of your precious skin and the nerve endings have nothing better to do but shoot pain signals to your brain. Even the slightest touch of clothing on the area is excrutiating. Immediately after my run I went to the store and bought a new pair of biker shorts, powder, bandages, A&D ointment, Vaseline, and deodorant. All the items that were recommended to me as I limped around the track. I was going to try everything to heal this Grand Canyon sized open wound. (Actually, it was more like the size of a nail head but you would've thought I'd lost a limb from the way I was bitching about it.)


They all worked of course, A&D to heal the skin and prevented the friction, Vaseline too. The powder and deodorant absorbed the sweat, the bandages kept my clothing from rubbing against the sore, and of course my trusty new biker shorts were and still are a life saver.

I will never again run without my biker shorts. I recommend them to any fat bottom girl (or boy) who has decided to start running. Even The Punisher has started wearing them and he can't thank me enough. Get the ones that are made to absorb the sweat away from your skin and you'll never again get the dreaded Chub Rub. Or you can follow the advice of a duck, who doesn't run.

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.

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!

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!