How did I get here?

I said a few weeks ago that I would eventually discuss why I am where I am in my triathlon/running/fitness journey, but I hadn’t given it much thought until yesterday.  You see, yesterday was the one year anniversary of the day I stopped exercising. 

To better explain, I need to back up a few months.  My first triathlon was in September of 2009, and during training and in the months that followed, I lost approximately 25 pounds.  Of course, I still had about 35 to go, so I kept active in the winter months with the dream of being hot in my wedding dress the following October.  In February 2010 I ended up injuring my hip and being laid up for a couple of months (damn treadmill.)  In the April, I signed up for a boot camp to jump start things.  Things were progressing slower than planned, but I was getting back on track.

On April 25^th, my husband and I rescued a 8 week old Swiss Mountain Dog/Lab mix.  After days of agonizing over ski-themed names, we decided to call her Summit.  She was tiny when we got her, but she was a spitfire for sure.  I couldn’t wait until she was big enough to go on walks and runs with me.  So life became full of work, boot camp, wedding planning, and playing with our newest family member.  Gregg and I were deliriously happy.

She was a little smaller than we were expecting, hence the giant collar and toy.

On May 15, 2010, I took Summit to her first puppy class.  When I parked the car, she looked a little dazed and was drooling quite a bit.  I was concerned for a moment, but then she snapped back to life and everything seemed fine.  Later that day, she had several episodes and we realized that she was having seizures.  We took her to the emergency clinic, where she was admitted and continued to have seizures.  The vets ran every test imaginable; everything came back normal.  Eventually she was transferred to a facility up in Maine that specializes in neurology.  An MRI and another battery of tests came back normal.  Gregg and I drove 1 ½ hours each way every night after work to visit her (and stopping for McDonalds afterward.)  Obviously boot camp was out of the question at that point.

A little over a week later, we brought Summit home.  They had managed to stop the seizures though they still didn’t know what caused them.  She seemed to be getting better for a few days, then she started to deteriorate.

One week after Summit came home, I knew what we had to do.  It took another week and a half for Gregg to realize it, too.  On June 11, 2010, we said goodbye to our furry little baby.  After spending a fortune and doing absolutely everything we could have done, we still do not know what was wrong with her. Those three weeks were more devastating than I could ever adequately articulate, and the impact was long lasting.

During this horribly painful process, I was the one who held everything together.  Gregg’s father died suddenly when he was 14, so he has an extremely hard time coping with these sorts of things. I had to be his rock.  So I dealt with the vets and I made the tough decisions and I was the one who stayed in the room at the end when Gregg couldn't.  I can be strong for others, but I tend to internalize my stress and have a difficult time managing it properly.  In this case, I managed by eating A LOT.  I secretly started smoking on and off for a few months in the hopes that it would help control my appetite.  I stopped being active altogether.  By the time October rolled around, I had gained back all the weight I had lost.  It’s pretty embarrassing to need to have your wedding dress let out.

January 2011 brought the beginning of my Thursday night ski league.  I was hoping to turn the page on 2010 and be active in 2011.  On the first night, I sprained my ankle while leaving work.  I was so angry that on day one of my mission to get active I had gone and hurt myself.  I sucked it up and stuffed my swollen ankle into my ski boots and raced anyway.

I realized that skiing was not enough for me, so I said “Screw it; I am doing the Pumpkinman tri again this year.”  My goal in the first tri was simply to finish, but I knew that I hadn’t trained nearly to my ability.  I was determined to run, bike, and swim faster this time. 

After a couple of setbacks with my ankle, I ended up physical therapy.  While strengthening my ankle and legs, I signed up for some running races.  I started a walk/run program, and began scouring the internet for advice.  I happened to stumble upon www.runblogger.com , a blog by fellow New Hampshire resident Peter Larson.  His blog introduced me to the online running community, with blogs and social networking among other things.  I was inspired to join the Daily Mile, where I have made online running friends who all have a journey to share.  The ability to share stories, to motivate and be motivated, and to celebrate successes has been invaluable to me.  When I am stressed out and want to deal by doing nothing, I find that being a part of the community has been extremely powerful in motivating me to make the right choices.

So here I am, in the blogoverse, sharing my journey.  I am at a different point in my journey than most of my online friends, but I am thankful for the opportunity to share it as an outlet for my feelings and to instill some accountability the process.  I hope someday that my journey might someday help someone else who is starting out on his or her journey to a healthier life.

I love Zumba

For the last few months, I have been going to a Zumba class on Saturdays.  When I first started I was still really out of shape and was still nursing a sore ankle, but I needed something to give me a release from the stress of everyday life, and I figured Zumba would be a great place to start.  I am not a coordinated person. However, I do love to dance in my own fun, manic style.  I went to the first class and fell in love.  I actually was so happy that first day that I was almost a little emotional about it.  Now I am hooked, and I get bummed whenever I can't make it to class.

Like I said, I am completely uncoordinated.  In fact, I am pretty sure that the instructor only says "Yeah! Great job!" when I actually get the steps right.  I mean, I am literally going in the opposite direction of the rest of the class most of the time.  I hang out in the back (which doesn't help much because we turn around a lot...well, the class turns around and I am still facing the same direction...)  I have a really tough time with the medium paced songs that have a lot of footwork; however, I am actually OK at the songs that are high energy where I can jump around like a spaz.

Since I had been out of town the last few Saturdays, today was the first class I have been to on a while.  It was really warm today, so the room was pretty hot.  The class was as energetic as ever, and I got back into it.  Most of the songs were footwork songs (bummer) but the last song was one of my favorites and I threw myself around the room.  By the end of class I was covered in sweat and felt like a million bucks.

Sometimes I think I should probably be embarrassed by my really really bad dancing skills, but this class is something I do for me, and it makes me really happy to jump around and make funny faces at my ridiculousness.  My favorite Zumba moment was when one of the ladies came up to me after class and said, "I was exhausted and wanted to take it easy on that last song, but when I looked over and saw you with a big smile, full of energy and jumping all over the place, you inspired me to finish strong."  Hey, if my spastic dancing can be inspiring, then anything is possible, right?

Margaritas 5K Recap - Hot Mess!

I ran my first race of the season, the Margaritas 5K, this morning.   It was a beautiful morning when I woke up; sunny and temps in the mid 50s.  I got up and went to Dunkin Donuts to get a bagel with cream cheese.  I don't really eat bagels anymore but I used the race as an excuse to eat one.  That decision would later have a serious impact on my race.

The buildup to the race was uneventful; I got all my stuff together, visited the port-a-potty a couple of times, and made my way toward the start.  I stayed pretty far back since I knew I would be doing the walk/run thing and I didn't want to be too far ahead and mess other people up as the running lane was really narrow.  By the time we started, the temp had risen to 62.

The first quarter of a mile was a struggle.  I lined up way behind where I should have been and I had to run all over the place to get ahead of people.  As we rounded the first turn I realized I needed to settle in and continue the walk/run, but my impatience had the best of me.  I started settling in just as we hit the first mile.  My pace was 12:00.  Too fast, I thought, especially considering all the chaos for the first 1/4 mile.

A minute after I hit the first mile, my body got hot with a wave of weakness and cold sweat.  It was a feeling that I knew all too well - my blood sugar was dropping.  I think a combination of the refined sugars in the bagel and the timing between consumption and the race (almost 3 hours) set me up for a fall.

As soon as I felt it I knew I was in trouble.

I am only a mile in.  This can't be happening.

I couldn't believe I was considering a DNF.  My body just wanted to stop.  Even though I knew I had hydrated enough, I was sucking so much wind that my mouth had dried out.  I was miserable.

Then I got pissed.

This is not happening.  This is a 5K.  There is no way I am stopping.  I will not be defeated by a freaking 5K!

I just let go and settled into my routine like a robot.  Run a pole, walk a pole.  I came up with a new mantra:  There are bananas at the finish line.  I just kept pushing ahead.  I took water at the halfway mark and continues to the mile 2 marker.  My pace was 12:30.  Soon, my favorite motivational song came on ("Don't Stop Me Now" by Queen) and I decided to run for as long as I could for it.  I made it to the top of the only little hill on the course and then settled back to my rhythm. 

I didn't check my watch for the 3rd mile marker, but as I pushed toward the finish I noticed another runner about 30 feet in front of me.  I don't have enough in the tank to run her down, I thought.  Screw it, yes I do.  I passed her and finished.  My watch read 37:17; my pace was 12:01.  Somehow I managed my fastest pace this year in spite of my near-bonk.

The best part about the race was that my legs felt FANTASTIC.  In fact, they felt better than they had in all my other runs.  I definitely made the right decision to rest them earlier this week.  I am excited about continuing my training and continuing to ramp up.  I can't wait until I get to 100% run!