Another move out of my comfort zone

I've been going to the gym for over a year.

I remember in the days leading up to my first time entering those doors, I was sick to my stomach.  So worried people would stare at me.  Laughing at the fat girl.

It wasn't until I'd been there awhile that I realized all these fit men and women may have previously been "the fat girl" or guy.  But, like me, they were doing something about it.  There are some people, like my husband, who are just thin.  Yet he'd be the first to tell you he doesn't feel like he's fit.

I never realized until this last summer that there's a difference between being thin and being fit.  Several years ago when I lost weight before there was no exercise involved.  Just food modification.  At that time in my life I wouldn't have been able to run 7.5 miles without walking the way I did back in May.

So now, after over a year of hard work, getting out of my comfort zone, I am thin.  I'm fit.

And I feel good.

But.

But I realized I'm back in that comfort zone.  I go to Body Flow (tai chi, yoga, pilates) between two and three times per week, I know the peeps in class, I ride my bike but no further than 30 miles, and I've maintained this exact weight since August.

I feel I've gotten into a bit of a rut.

So when my sister asked me to join her at Body Pump a couple of weeks ago I decided to go for it.  Why not.  Some moves, some weights.  I could do that.  Not too much out of my comfort zone but definitely using other muscles.  I liked it.

And then sweet baby sister of mine told me I needed to try Zumba.  Emily's been telling me to try it too.  Easy for these girls to say.  They've got moves.  I've got...nothin'.

Yesterday I decided to go for it.  I mean, why the heck not?

So even though I've been going to the gym for a year, yesterday felt like that first time all over again.  My stomach hurt, I was starting to sweat (and I hadn't even started working out yet!) and panic set in.  What if people made fun of me?  What if I looked like an idiot?

Screw it.

I reminded myself that at least I was doing something.  I coulda been sitting on the couch with my laptop and Oreos.  (oh, like I had been earlier in the day..)

And this is what went on.

Source: Uploaded by user via Bea on Pinterest

I went to Zumba.  I didn't have rhythm.  I looked silly.  But I was there.  Outta my comfort zone.  And I was spending time with my sister.  My sister who can shake it shake it.

All that blabber up there to say - if you aren't happy with where you are physically - do something.  Anything. No one thinks anything of newbies at the gym.  No one is thinking, "look at the fat girl."  No one cares if your shorts are riding up your thighs.

You can do it.  I promise.

Mission Accomplished

6 months.

Countless hours at the gym.

Countless trips to Starbucks and McDonald's.

About 400 miles on my bike.

And I have reached the goal weight I set back at the end of January.

I went from 153 down to 125.  From a size 12 to a size 6.

28 lbs. lost.

I'm happy.

Going to the yoga classes has definitely been the best thing for me.  The flexibility and strength I've gained is amazing to me.  When I first started and we were told to 'Crocodile' which is basically holding yourself in a lowered push-up position I couldn't even lower myself down to the ground.  Now, not only can I lower myself but I can hold myself there - hovering an inch or so above the ground.

I could barely touch my toes - okay, I could barely touch my belly button before I started yoga.  Now, I can bend down and reach my hands underneath my feet.  Seriously.  (I know, a lot of people can already do this, but for someone as inflexible as I was, it's a huge achievement)

My arms are conditioned and strong.  I'm no longer embarrassed to wear shorts; I have ankles!  Who knew?  In fact, for the first time in several years I purchased two pairs.  And I've been wearing them.  I don't have a six pack by any means but when I flex my stomach muscles I can feel 'em easily and it's great.

I can go out and run a few miles or bike 35 and not feel like I'm going to die when I get home.  6 months ago I got winded walking to the refrigerator. ☺ No, seriously.

Six months ago I was embarrassed to go out in public. Now, I'm comfortable with me.  I could definitely lose more weight.  I'm still 10 lbs heavier than I was when I got pregnant with Sugar almost seven years ago.  So, if I get there, I get there.  I'm not going to change anything that I've been doing since January, except to ride my bike more.  My thighs thank me.

And I want to thank:

Josh.  Without his encouragement and the hours watching the girls so I could go to the gym or go running or head out on my bike for 3 hours, I wouldn't be at this point.  Also, he loved me as much at 153 as he does at 125, I'm thankful he's just been there through the darkest times of my life.

Amber.  For convincing me to go to yoga at 6 a.m. which, after we became masters of yoga turned into Body Flow at 7 p.m.  Thank you for the hilariousness and inappropriateness.  We are a good time.  More people should be like us. ☺

Friends.  For texts and emails of encouragement.  Seriously helped me keep on, keepin' on.

YOU! My rockin' blog readers.  For emails, comments left on posts.  You've made me laugh and cry and inspired me to keep trying.

Jessica.  For inspiring me to start running again in the first place. For the texts of encouragement.  For running with me at the 5K and carrying me along the whole way.  (and for the shorts I've yet to return....)  Also, after I finished my 12K she left a comment on my Facebook wall that said, "You're a runner."  That made me so freakin' happy I cried.

It's been six months of hard work.  Dedication and determination I didn't know I had.  Thankful to God for a strong, healthy body and the ability to just get outta bed in the morning.

I'm kinda lovin' life right now.

a very jumbled TMI post about working out

First things, first.

If you're of the male variety - and you know who you are, Mister, it's time to click the little x in the top right.  This post is not for you to read.

Okay, now that we have that settled and only females are reading, here goes.

Working out is embarrassing.  Running is embarrassing.  I super much hated it when I started at the end of January.

Wanna know why?  And remember, I told you this post was TMI.  You were warned.

Okay, so one of the reasons I hated running was because my shorts would creep up my thighs.  You've seen it on women.  Maybe you've seen it on me.  It's not pretty.  But when your thighs rub together, it happens.  So, I'd be out there running and every once in a while I'd be pulling the shorts outta the crotch area.

So.  Attractive.

(seriously, if there's any guy still reading.  GET OUT.)

Then there's the issue of peeing while you run.

Yeah, I said it.

It happens.  It also happens when I ride my bike.  Don't you wish you worked out with me?  I'm a blast!  My shorts ride up my crotch and I pee my pants.  Who wouldn't want to be work out partners with me?!

Seriously, though.  The peeing issue sucks.  I don't know if it's because I've had kids or what the deal is because I do not remember this being an issue when I ran Cross Country in high school (5 trillion years ago).  Occasionally I'll put on a panty liner, other times I just pee my pants.  Good times.

I'm not sure what finally got me to the point that I realized it was just time to get off my butt.  I think I finally realized that my metabolism changed after kids.  It wasn't nearly as easy to have it come off.  I also realized just how sedentary my life is/was.  I didn't move much at all during any given day.

I just went for it.  I took a huge step out of my comfort zone and went into a gym.  I participated in a class and felt like a fool.  I felt like an ass.

And after 3 or 4 times I felt like less of a fool.  I started to feel proud of myself.  'Cause even if I did look like a fool, at least I was there.  At least I was finally doing something other than complain.  And then I set a goal. I set a goal to run a 5K.  3 miles.  Doesn't seem like much to some but for a girl who hadn't run in 15 years, it was a big deal.

So I set the goal.  I made the goal public for accountability.  And then I accomplished it.  I figured after I met my goal I'd probably quit running.  I did.  For almost four weeks.  I still kept at the gym but I stopped running for awhile.  But I eventually got back into it and once I hit the road instead of the treadmill, it almost got addicting.

I've added in bike riding.

When I first started the bike, it was the one at the gym.  When I'd look down my tummy hung over my pants so much that I couldn't see my crotch.  (TMI!) and tonight while I was on the bike at the gym, I looked down and there it was!

4 months ago I should have measured myself, I almost did.  Honestly, though, I didn't think I'd stick with this. So I didn't want to know my measurements.  I wish I had.  I know I've lost several inches everywhere.  I've gone from a size 12 or 14 (depending on brand) to an 8 or 10.  The smallest jeans I own are now loose in my thighs (one of the main areas of my body that I LOATHE) so I'm feeling a little better there.  My love handles are going away but are definitely still there.

My tummy?  Oh, my tummy.  I still look like I just gave birth a few weeks ago so let's not even go there.  It's amazing what a shirt can hide.  So please, even if you feel compelled the next time you see me, don't lift my shirt, k?

Glad we got that settled.

I had planned to run Bloomsday.  A 12K.  7.5 miles.  I ended up not.  I bailed.  And I felt like a failure.  Then I had the opportunity on Saturday to run a 12K.  Though I didn't know it was a 12K.  I thought it was *just* six miles.  I hadn't run in almost four weeks but I went for it.

I'm still not sure why.

I'm so glad I did though.  Running those 7.5 miles without walking made me realize something.

I'm stronger than I've ever given myself credit for.  I can do more than I thought possible.

And if I can do it, anyone can.

It takes getting out of the comfort zone.  It takes believing in yourself just a tiny bit and rejecting any lies you normally let yourself believe.  It takes guts.

It takes balls.

And even if you don't believe you can do it, I believe you can.

Last Minute Decision

{yawn}

I'm tired.

Oh. So. Tired.

Partly because I was awake until 3:30 this morning.  And partly because I just finished running a 7.5 mile run with a bunch of other people.

Yeah.

7.5 miles.

I've never run that far.

Ever ever.

The most I've run in the last 4 months is 3.1 miles.  Today was more than twice that.

Where's my pain meds?

My wonderful friend, Candee, asked if I wanted to run it.  I told her I'd think about it.  And I thought about it and I thought it was just the dumbest idea ever.  At the time I thought it was 6.5 miles.  6.5 miles is a lot.  Too much for this chubby chick with bad shins and even worse shoes.

But apparently last night someone invaded my thought process and decided that it would be a fantastic idea to go ahead and run this stupid 12K.

So I show up.  And she shows up.  Here we are:

And then she tells me it's not 6.5 miles.  It's 7.5 miles.

I wanted to call my mommy.

Instead.

We ran.

At the five mile marker I got goosebumps.  I was pumped.  So excited.  Almost cried.  At 6.5 miles I wanted to call my mommy again.

At mile 7 I wasn't sure I could keep up my pace and not walk.  I rounded the last corner.  Heard some cheers.  Saw my husband and kids.  I had nothing left in me to kick in for a sprint.  I'd spent it all, man.

I loved it.

It was awesome.

I don't know my official time yet (my phone died at the end and I was keeping track) but I'm guessing 1:23-1:25ish.

Here we are at the end:

Thank you, Candee, for encouraging me to do this and get outta my comfort zone.  I owe you a coffee!  (or something way stronger!)