Showing posts with label personal story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label personal story. Show all posts

Why I Finally Ditched the Scale

>> Thursday, September 18, 2014

You guys have been telling me for years to stop nitpicking my weight. In theory, I wanted to -- really, I did. I'd go 3-6 months at a time without stepping on a scale. Then, I hop on and get frustrated with the number I saw. It's no wonder I felt this way, especially given my history with an eating disorder. As I look back at posts I've written in the past, I can definitely see where I've defended the many "reasons" why I wanted to keep track of my weight. And some still make sense to me.

Still, it's been over 6 years since I've eliminated or restricted foods as part of my disorder. If I've learned anything from healing, it's that it's a gradual process . . . not a clearcut end. For me, the scale continued to taunt me week after week. Though I wanted nothing to do with being High School Skinny, I'll admit that for a long time I felt great at certain numbers and not-so good at others.

I think about this now especially as I approach the possibility of another pregnancy. I was at a very lean "happy weight" before getting pregnant with Ada. I look back and see how coming off marathon training, eating extremely clean foods on a predictable schedule, and having most of my free time to myself to exercise and otherwise move. It was all totally in my favor.


As a now 30-something, my metabolism has certainly changed -- noticeably, but so has my desire to spend all my free time on my body. I still look (and weigh, at least as of my last physical) pretty much how I did at 6 months postpartum. Over time, the not-getting-back has bothered me less and less. I look back at my quest to return to pre-pregnancy size and cringe. I look and feel totally fine at my current size and shape!

Instead, I like being the Ashley who can easily run 10 miles on a Monday night, not because I'm training for anything, but -- just because. I love being the Ashley who can get equally an amazing endorphin feel from simply walking an hour the next day. The kind of Ashley who can bake a batch of cookies and not count the calories or care if they have some sugar or fat in them. The Ashley who no longer labels food as "good" or "bad" or whatever else. And, yeah. I like being the Ashley who can go about my day without having it influenced by a silly number, whether the scale or size in my jeans.

It took me a REALLY long time to get to this point.

And this isn't to say I don't still have my moments. I have a closet full of clothes that are just a bit too small for me. I'm finally getting rid of them versus holding on hoping I'll someday return to my previous sizes. Lose those last 10 pounds that never stayed off my frame. It does occasionally bug me when I think about how all my healthy living isn't working quite the way it used to. At the same time, it most definitely IS working! I'm capable of so much and continue to smash PRs and keep active.

I just wanted to share because I have reached this new milestone in my healing process, and I'm excited about it. I didn't know if I'd ever get to this point. Yet, here I am!

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Beauty and the Bees

>> Monday, August 12, 2013

It's presumptuous to call myself the beauty in this situation. Anyway, I felt it was a story worth sharing. Getting up early is going OK. I don't love running in the AM and my body is protesting in various ways, but I'm getting my workouts in the books and finding the extra time in the evenings to be a huge relief.

We were traveling this weekend, so I decided to shift my long run to this morning, giving myself a blissful afternoon to . . . clean the house. I had planned to do between 10 and 12 miles, so when my alarm went off at 6AM, I reluctantly dragged myself out of bed and changed into the outfit I set out the night before. I downed a breakfast bar, a glass of water, and was out the door by 6:10.

Success!

Three miles in, I made a quick and rather embarrassing emergency stop at the hospital to use the bathroom. (It's the only "public" restroom in my neighborhood.) But that's another story entirely. I was going to run three 4 mile loops, stopping in-between them to gulp a bit of water I left outside our house. I ducked past security guards and headed up the road another mile where I had two choices as far as routes were concerned.

I took the second option and almost immediately after turning onto that street, I felt a frantic buzzing at the base of my pony tail. Before I could even figure out what was happening (because I was still, for all intents and purposes, sleeping) STING. A sharp . . . oh-my-god-ouch BEE STING with the furious insect still caught and trying to escape my tangled tresses.

I plucked the bee out (he felt fuzzy! a chill ran down my spine) while jumping up and down . . . side to side. I may have gone into a fetal position at one point, crying feebly in consternation. If you know me and my history with bees, you might understand why this seemingly silly situation is so d.r.a.m.a.t.i.c. Before today, I had only been stung once in my life -- and that was three years ago.

How did I evade the rite of passage for so long? I run. Far, far away. To me, bees are probably one of the most terrifying forces in our universe. They out-match me in many ways with their tiny size, ability to fly, and keen stinging super power. How am I to fight back? So, I run. And until today, I guess I thought bees couldn't sting me if I was running.

I sprinted the quarter mile home, my neck throbbing and could swear I felt a stinger still inside the point of attack. Stephen says nothing was there, but -- whatever -- I started crying. This is where even I was beginning to feel ridiculous. I am 30 years old and sobbing about a bee sting. In my defense, I was seriously out of it. Oh, and on the topic of caffeine: A bee sting is a much more natural and effective way to wake for the day than any cup of coffee could ever be.

I collected myself and decided to set out again and complete just 8 miles total. The bare minimum I needed to finish to keep up with my training plan. The entire way, I avoided flower beds and low tree branches. I went (way) around any flighted, buzzing insects, even the tamest of flies. Bumble bees went about their business and my knees would turn to jelly at the sight of them.

With the run completed, I felt strong. So, for my cooldown, I returned to the scene to meet my maimed attacker. He was gone. All that remains is this nagging, dull ache in my neck and, well, now this melodramatic account.

Honey bees can only strike once, right?

If you'd like to read some practical advice on running, check out my articles for WalkJogRun:

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Healthy Living: Kati's Story

>> Tuesday, October 19, 2010


Kati writes:

As a kid, I hated gym. LOATHED it, might be a better word. It was actually the only class that I had less-than-stellar grades in (er, not to brag? but I don't think that's something to be proud of!!). Our gym classes were very running-centric, and I just couldn't do it. Last one in the mile, every time, and on the verge of passing out to boot. When I was 15, the elephant-on-my-chest feeling was finally diagnosed as asthma. I'm what you might call "bottom heavy," and I wished that I could find a sport that would use my tree-trunk legs but wouldn't aggravate my lungs (and knees, and ankles). I loved swimming, and wasn't half-bad at it, but sadly my school had no swim team.

My diet was also less-than-stellar. My mom is a great cook, but she was raising two kids on her own (and my brother is special-needs), so we were responsible for whatever we wanted for breakfast and lunch. One summer (and most of a school year) this meant that my lunches consisted of EZ Cheese, "buttery" crackers, Sour Cream and Onion potato chips, Oreos, and chocolate milk. All through high school, breakfast was a donut and a cup of hot cocoa or chai mix. I was a kid, I thought I could get away with it.

Then I went to college. Like many of the others who have shared their stories, I gained the Freshman 15+. I discovered that I compulsively stress-eat, and college brought plenty of stress. I thought becoming a vegetarian would solve all that. In practice, I was a "pasta-tarian" -- starch, starch, and some more starch to round things out. And, oh boy, the pints of ice cream for dinner.

One meal credit = one pint. I'd eat the whole thing.

My energy plummeted, and my moods swung like a pendulum. I remember coming home from class at 4PM some days, and sleeping through until 7AM the next day. My roommate couldn't even wake me up for dinner.


However, around this same time I was inspired to finally find a sport I'd enjoy. I had always admired athletic people, and desperately wanted to be one (my mom is quite athletic, also). On a total whim, I took my beater bike to a college-sponsored mountain bike race. It hurt. A lot. Both the cardio, and the crashing into things. But somehow, I loved it. I bought a new bike, and was hooked. But my race diet consisted of Fritos, M&Ms, and gas-station cappuccino. Not exactly performance-food.

I also signed up for an Outward Bound backpacking course, something I had wanted to do in high school but never had the guts (because I was the unathletic, dorky girl). It was amazing, and sparked a real love of the outdoors in general, and backcountry in particular.

Then, I studied abroad. I was miserable. I didn't speak the language as well as I thought I did, I had no friends, and I drowned my sorrows in 20-oz cafe mochas and jumbo slices of tres leches cake. Daily. Along with some super-sugared espresso and chocolate-covered cookies to get me through class. I came home 30 pounds heavier, ringing in at my all-time high of 160.

When I was home, I got a new job at an outdoor equipment outfitter and started teaching environmental education. My eco-minded co-workers brought to my attention the connections between what we eat, your health, and the environment, and I started thinking more about what I was putting in my body. What was it doing to me?! What was it doing to the environment?!?! It finally hit me that my horrible mood swings and low energy might be part of a vicious cycle. I felt miserable, I ate crap. I ate crap, I felt miserable. It just wasn't sustainable, least of all for my body.

I turned my obsessive stress-eating habits into something more productive. I figured, I loved thinking about food. Why not learn how to plan and cook meals with real food? Using mostly vegetarian cookbooks (food blogs are a more recent discovery for me!) I taught myself to make vegetable-centric meals from whole ingredients (confession: I usually add in some animal protein). Lucky me, I also found a guy that likes to invent healthy meals, though sometimes our definitions of "healthy" diverge ;)

In general, I've found that I can eat whatever I want, as long as I stay active and focus on making my main meals as veggie-centric as possible. I stopped weighing myself, but I feel good and my clothes generally fit, so I think I'm in a pretty healthy weight range. Granted, I have a deep love of cheese (we do, too, Kati!) and it is a frequent dinner guest. But I have significantly reduced my sugar-intake: instead of mochas, cocoa, or chai, I drink plain coffee with milk, no sugar. We'll have a piece or two of dark chocolate for dessert (not an entire 1-lb bar, like before). And breakfast is protein-packed eggs with any number of leafy greens and other plant matter. I actually can't stomach sweet stuff that early in the morning now. I guess I've re-programmed my palate!


Eating healthy and staying fit has almost eliminated my asthma symptoms (I still get allergy- and winter-induced asthma). I practice Vinyasa Yoga, which I find helps keep me centered. I do a Master's Swimming program. Last summer I trained for and finished a 100K mountain bike race, which hurt like heck -- but I loved it and plan to do it again! And in February, my mom and I climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro together.

I still have ups and downs, but I find that if I keep my food-focus on whole, healthy things, I can stay pretty balanced. When I'm balanced, my motivation to stay active is easier to maintain. And then in turn, my mood stays positive and it's easier to eat healthily! A new, positive cycle :)

Thanks for reading!

Kati

In need of some healthy fitspiration? While you're here, you can read more great stories like Kati's -- as well as submit your own healthy living story to be featured on our site!

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Healthy Living: Alison's Story

>> Thursday, October 14, 2010


Alison gave us permission to reprint excerpts from her healthy living story on Fueling for Fitness:

The day I went skydiving, I promised myself to stop being afraid of what I could do and where I could go. I promised myself that I'd try harder to take charge of my life and challenge myself by doing things that excited me, that scared me, and that I knew would help me grow as a person.

I made a top-secret list of life goals, and one by one, I started working towards them. I didn't expect anything to fall into my lap. I lived my life accepting mediocrity as the card I was dealt in life and it has forced me to develop a work ethic that always pushed me to work to achieve what I want. It wasn't easy. I failed a lot. I know I am going to continue failing; I would expect no less.

One of these goals? Run a marathon.


Three years ago, I couldn't run 1 kilometer without gasping for air. Three years ago, I made every excuse to not pick up a paint brush (I'm an artist, too!). Three years ago, I saw a long, straight path ahead of me and I told myself that I may as well continue walking down it because it was the easiest thing to do.

Why do I run? There are countless reasons that I could list, but the biggest reason that I do it is because it makes me feel alive. It constantly amazes me that having spent the majority of my life in various sedentary positions, here I am, getting ready to taper down and run my first marathon.

For the past few weeks, I have been feeling terrified. Wondering if every little ache, pain, or missed work out would be enough to get me through the race next Sunday. I've been doubting all the work that I've put towards this marathon, and hyper-focusing on race day, forgetting about all of the past events that took place to get me to where I am now.

I really don't know how things will go next Sunday. Really, anything can happen on race day. But a few lines from this cheesy, yet sweet 10-10-10 song sums it up quite nicely: "When we chose to commit, a fire was lit, and I'll be damned if any one of us will quit."

Thanks for reading my story!

Alison (from Fueling for Fitness)


Yup. Alison sent us her story BEFORE she got to the start of that big-deal race (you guess it: Chicago!) on 10-10-10. If you'd like to read all about her race experience, just check out her blog: Fueling for Fitness!

In need of some healthy fitspiration? While you're here, you can read more great stories like Alison's -- as well as submit your own healthy living story to be featured on our site!

Like what you just read? You can subscribe to the feed of these posts or follow us on Twitter or Facebook to be the first to know what the (never home)makers are up to. And we’ll love you forever!

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Healthy Living: Ariel's Story

>> Friday, October 1, 2010


Ariel writes:

I have been reading, and loving your blog for quite some time now (thanks, Ariel!), and I am inspired every day by the adventures that you go on in and out of the kitchen. This is more of my recount of how my perspective of exercise has transformed, and how I finally stumbled upon something I love.

I've always kind of had the healthy eating thing down, thanks in large part to my parents. Growing up, my mom (who is a phenomenal cook) always encouraged my sister and me to get creative when it came to cooking. Fresh produce was a staple in our house, and we sat down to a home cooked meal together every night. By the time I was in high school, I was one of the only kids that hadn't been out to a fast food restaurant, which was just fine in my book!

My family is also very active, especially my father. When he and my mom lived in New York City, he ran from Brooklyn to Central Park regularly, and ran in the '77 and '79 marathons. My parents moved upstate to start a family; my mom took to hiking and my dad became an avid biker, and then kayaker. They introduced these activities into my life at a young age, so I've always had a love of the outdoors. When I was 16, my dad had a heart attack and was shortly thereafter diagnosed with bladder cancer -- he is doing fantastically now, and still kayaks every single day.

When this all happened, though, I was in complete shock, because he was by far the most active member of our family, and because dads are invincible! From that point on, I cut out red meat and poultry of my diet, and vowed that I would exercise more. In addition to the weekly hikes I went on, I started walking home from school everyday, and did yoga a few times a week. I never really thought about weight, since we didn’t have a scale in my house, but my clothes became looser by the week. I felt good about these changes and continued them throughout high school.

Oh look, I'm in college now! I had never really been to a gym before, and seeing as I could go to the one on campus for free, I began going more and more frequently. For the first few months, I really enjoyed using the treadmill and the elliptical. My body was getting used to the exercise and it wasn't uncommon for me to spend anywhere from 60-90 minutes on a cardio machine. Toward the end of my freshman year, the excitement I had for working out started to dwindle, and I viewed it more like a chore than anything.

Still, I woke up every morning at 7:15 to go to the gym because I was terrified that if I didn’t exercise, I would gain the Freshman 15. I was underweight, overworked, irritable, and just plain drained. On top of the pressures that I was placing on myself, as well as those from my classes, I was in a long-distance, and unhealthy, relationship. It was all too much, and something had to give.


More than one thing gave. My relationship ended, by obsession with exercise slowed, and I focused my energy on schoolwork. While this may sound ideal, I was now heading toward the other end of the spectrum! I had gained the Junior 25, was still vegetarian but was eating too many carbs, wasn’t getting enough exercise, and felt lethargic all the time. The sad part is, is that I was in that state for about 11 months because staying in a self-destructive routine is easier than putting yourself out there and making a change.

As a senior and psychology major, I knew that I wanted to go on to graduate school to become a therapist. I also knew that there was no way I could help others feel better about themselves if I didn't feel good about myself. I wanted to be happy with who I was, so I decided to do those things that made me feel good. I started going to the gym on a regular basis, but only went on the elliptical, because it was within my comfort zone. I went back to my diet of mostly fresh fruits and vegetables, with some tofu or beans and whole grains mixed in for good measure. I started to feel better about myself, but I still didn't have the confidence that I wanted.

Enter: Grad School. Most people use going away to college for the first time as a way of reinventing themselves. I, however, am not like most people. I was staying at the same school for my graduate program, but I knew that this was my time for growth. I began by upping my protein intake, which immediately helped to get rid of some of the excessive baggage I was carrying around my middle. Hello, whey powder! I was also on the go a lot, what with a job, classes, and an internship, so when I had time, I would walk around outside, or go for a bike ride (thanks to my fabulous friend Marissa who taught me how to ride a bike at age 22). I found that the less that I obsessed over food and exercise, the happier I was. The less I obsessed, the more results I also saw.

When the summer heat started, I decided to go back to the gym because it was much more comfortable than being outside. My sister recommended the book The New Rules of Lifting for Women, so for the first few weeks, I focused on weight training. I loved the book, and started to see changes from the training I was doing, but I still missed doing cardio.

You should know that I'm secretly a competitive person. I like to see what exercises people are doing and try to do them too. I also used to like to see if I could stay on the cardio machines longer than the person next to me. I know this sounds nutty, but sometimes it was the push I needed. One particular day, I saw a girl hop on the treadmill and run for 40 minutes like it was nothing. And get this: she was smiling the whole time. Why would anyone smile while they ran? Most of the people I see running outside look like they hate their lives. I needed to try this for myself.


The first mile was a struggle, and that's an understatement. I didn't think too much of it, and went about the rest of my weight training. I went to the gym the next day and instead of climbing on the elliptical, I stepped onto the treadmill. What was I doing? I wasn't a runner. Runners love to run. I only ran yesterday because Top Chef was on the TV above the treadmill. But I ran. Not too far, a little longer than I had the day before, but that's when it clicked. The type of change I wanted to see in myself wasn't one that was going to happen overnight. I was going to have to work for it, but as long as I could push myself a little bit farther each day, I would eventually get there.

Slowly but surely, I made progress. I ran a little bit longer each day, and on days that I wanted a shorter workout, I tried to increase my speed. By July, I was running 5 miles, 5-6 days a week. When I was at school, for my job and classes, I went to the gym. When I went upstate to visit my parents, I would run a 5-mile loop around the local reservoir. My energy levels had increased drastically, I was significantly more confident, I had muscle definition that I had never had before, and I was happy. I didn't think it could get any better. But oh yes, it did.

I was visiting my parents one weekend in early September and the weather was beautiful. For the first time in months, there was no humidity and the temperature was in the 60s. It was time for my 5-mile loop! I finished it in record time (41 minutes!) but the weather was too perfect for me to leave just yet. "I'll just jog half of the way around and walk the rest," I told myself. With each stride, I felt energized and enthused, and believe it or not, I ran the whole loop with a smile on my face.


Thanks to the love and support of my family, friends, and (new and improved) boyfriend, I didn't throw in the towel when things got rough. It took me a while to figure out, but I realized that my journey was ultimately about happiness. If you ask me, that's something worth fighting for. Keep your chin up and always remember to smile -- you never know who you could inspire.

Thanks for reading my story!

Ariel (from Positive Regard)

In need of some healthy fitspiration? While you're here, you can read more great stories like Ariel's -- as well as submit your own healthy living story to be featured on our site!

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Healthy Living: Marike's Story

>> Tuesday, September 21, 2010


Marike writes:

Greetings from Cape Town, South Africa! A place where we run up mountains, through vineyards, and along beaches were two oceans lap the shore. A place where we enter races purely for the wine tasting tables at the end!

If you asked me a year ago what I did on my weekends, I would probably have answered that I liked going to the beach in summer (not swimming -- Cape Town water is near freezing!), having cocktails on the beach, or eating at one of Cape Town’s many wonderful restaurants.

The one thing I would never have said? "Waking up before dawn to drive an hour to do a trail run in torrential rain and gale force winds."


But this is exactly what I do now!

Last year this time a friend of mine handed me a 10K training program she was using, as she was thinking of entering the annual Gun Run –- a 10K race where the starting "gun" is the Noon Gun -– a cannon usually used to signal 12 o’clock noon every day (a Capetonion tradition).

At that point, I could run about 3K on the treadmill at the gym, so I thought, "why not? It might be fun!" The day of the race came, and as I crossed the finish line in 1:10:00, I was simultaneously happier and more tired than I'd been in my life.

I was hooked. I was . . . a runner!


Over the course of the year my life changed. I started hiking -– Cape Town has such beautiful hikes, including Platteklip Gorge –- a route which is essentially vertically up the mountain, and something I never even have considered attempting before!

I started taking part in trail running -– where I discovered the delights of racing through vineyards while rain slashed my face and mud covered me up to my hips!

This month, I am in the last stages of training for my first half marathon -– the same Gun Run I took part in last year. I can't believe how scared I was of running 10K –- now I regularly run more than that in my short weekly runs!


Running has changed my life -– now I can't imagine not grabbing my shoes after a day at the office to go for quick run, or spending my Saturday morning breathing in crisp ocean air, sharing the seaside promenade with other fitness enthusiasts, as we all contemplate how lucky we are to live in one of the most beautiful cities in the world!

Thanks for reading my story!

Marike

In need of some healthy fitspiration? While you're here, you can read more great stories like Marike's -- as well as submit your own healthy living story to be featured on our site!

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Healthy Living: Rowena's Story

>> Tuesday, September 14, 2010


Rowena writes:

Hey there, Ashley and Stephen! I've been following your bloggy -- I just stumbled across it recently, and love it. It's innovative and different in a place full of healthy living blogs, your stands out! (Thank you, Rowena!) I'm 26 years old . . . and I'd like to share my Healthy Living journey -- my fitspiration, if you will -- with you.

At age 20, I went to Cyprus where I met my fiance. I was on a girls holiday . . . he was on a lads holiday, and we spent the 2 weeks together, totally ditched our friends and had a blast. When we got home, we kept it going, despite living 350 miles apart. During the "traveling to see each other" period, the weight crept on. Once we moved in together, I think it's fair to say I piled weight on. This was my first "real" home as an adult and I was finding my love for being in the kitchen.


I was a size 18, but still my weight/size weren't bothering me. Sure, I hated pictures of myself. They bothered me at times, but never enough to do anything about it. Then we got engaged, and it all changed: I started wedding dress shopping and realised that I didn't want to be a big bride. Nor did I want to be disappointed looking back at my wedding photos. No, I wanted to be a slim, beautiful bride.

After a few months of playing at it on my own and not understanding why I wasn't losing weight, I joined a slimming class. I got off to a good start, I lost half a stone fairly quickly, and it was working well for me. Then in March last year, we had a car accident. It was a pretty bad accident, too. It saw me off work for 4 months -- badly knocked me up -- my pelvis was knocked out of line and most of my vertebrae were unaligned. I suffered huge deep tissue damage to my back, neck, upper arms and upper legs. I was in pain most of the time. I was undergoing intense physiotherapy and the doctor had me on crazy strong painkillers.

Needless to say, these pills were messing with my insides and more-or-less made weight loss come to a halt. I wasn't putting weight on, but I wasn't losing it either. I still attended class but regularly ended up in tears. I'm a member of a wedding planning website . . . and the girls in the weight loss section offered their virtual shoulders for my tears on countless occasions. The doctor told me I would always be a chronic pain sufferer and I had to adapt my lifestyle to accommodate it and accept it. Perhaps some gentle yoga to increase peace in my mind, she suggested.

This was an all-time low for me.

But I persevered with the slimming club and my physiotherapist kept on relentlessly. One year after the accident (March this year), she discharged me with a clean bill of health! I couldn’t believe it -- that doctor was wrong -- and if it hadn’t have been for the positivity of my family and friends and my online friends from the weight loss forum, I doubt I’d have battled through!

By May this year, I lost 2 stone with the slimming club. I started to read a couple of healthy living blogs and had learned a boatload about healthy living and a clean diet. I was starting to feel like the slimming club was holding me back now, their ways and views weren’t in line with what I was learning about, a basic clean diet, so I made the leap and left the class.

I started running (I’d never run before –- not even for a bus!), following the Couch-to-5K programme. I also started calorie counting and following a clean and healthy diet. I rarely drink alcohol -- and when I do its only a couple of glasses. I read more and more healthy living blogs and even decided to start one of my own: http://broadbeantorunnerbean.blogspot.com/. I completed the C25K programme, and got the full on bug for fitness. I dabbled in the 30-day shred and then decided to move onto Insanity. I’m now on week 2 . . . and I love it!

I feel like I wasted so much time (and the car crash wasted so much time for me, too) . . . and with now only 3 months till the wedding, I’m on full steam ahead. Months and months ago, I bought my wedding dress 3 sizes too small for me! To date I’ve lost 3 stone and I’m about an inch off fitting into it, my goal is in sight!

BUT and here’s the huge BUT -– this is no longer about "the dress" or "the wedding" or "the honeymoon". Sure, these things are forefront in my mind right now, and I get pretty anxious about them on a weekly basis (the girls from my weight loss forum will second that!), but I'm pleased to introduce you to ME! This is ME! This isn't just a phase, this isn't just a diet, this is ME! These choices for healthy food and for exercise are no longer difficult choices, there's no longer a battle going on inside of me. I’m at peace with myself and my choices, and 99 percent of the time, I make the right choice for my health.

And you know what? I kinda like the healthy me!


Thanks for reading my story!

Rowena (from Broad Bean to Runner Bean)

In need of some healthy fitspiration? While you're here, you can read more great stories like Rowena's -- as well as submit your own healthy living story to be featured on our site!

Like what you just read? You can subscribe to the feed of these posts or follow us on Twitter or Facebook to be the first to know what the (never home)makers are up to. And we’ll love you forever!

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Healthy Living: Samantha's Story

>> Friday, September 10, 2010


Samantha writes:

I've been reading your blog for a short time, maybe a month or two, but it has already inspired me. I am also finding comfort in reading the stories your post about other people. It has brought me full circle (hopefully) with something I have been struggling with for a little over a year now. So, I share with you my story because I want you to know why I'm glad you guys came into my life. (Awww, thanks! We're happy you found us!) Here it goes, with more honesty than I have shared with anyone.

Four years ago, I weighed my heaviest, about 150. I'm only 5 foot 2, so this was a lot on my little frame. It didn't bother me much. I exercised, so I was in decent physical shape. I could really kill it when it came to cardio. I enjoyed exercising. However, I didn't pay any attention to my eating habits, I thought I ate pretty healthy, and I also enjoyed an alcoholic beverage occasionally. (Okay, more than occasionally! I indulged.)

I got pregnant in September of 2006. I managed my weight well, only gaining 24 pounds. I worked out until I delivered, and I was very proud of myself. Once my daughter was old enough to eat the same things as myself, I began to change my eating habits. Mostly because I wanted her to eat healthfully. I was a stay-at-home mom, and if I didn't want Hannah (my daughter) to have chips, then I decided I should not have them while eating with her. I wanted her to eat lots of fresh fruits and veggies, so I began buying them more and introducing those as snacks. After I stopped breast-feeding, my new eating habits had become just that, habits. Without ever trying, or even wanting to, I dropped down to 115 with a body fat percentage of 17% over the span of 10 months.

Somewhere in the middle of the weight loss, my life changed dramatically. We moved, across an ocean, then halfway across the country, and into my parents home while my husband went through new job training and we found a home. My family is deep south and there is never a meal where something is not fried. With my new-found body and weight loss, I became terrified of gaining all this weight. Looking back, I see where this lead to a dangerous trend. I practically starved myself.


Then things got worse. Last August I began to gain weight, and it was unexplainable. Over the course of 3 months, I gained 30 pounds and a lot of depression. I began to binge eat. I would starve, restricting my calories to less than 1000 a day. I would over eat one or two days a week, and then have horrible food guilt from it. I would exercise for hours a day, 7 days a week. It was compulsive and if I couldn't work out I would get very cranky. I hated the way I looked. Nothing I owned fit me.

Things got so bad that by December I had covered all my mirrors with black paper so that I couldn't see my reflection. I hated myself. I was, and still am, seeing two specialists for this problem. No one is sure why it happened but I am on medication to try and tackle some of the possibilities.

The covered mirrors didn't last long. My husband put his foot down and insisted I get help. So I did. I started seeing a therapist and a personal trainer in January. My personal trainer, and now friend, was fantastic. I was completely honest with her. She did not have a weight loss goal, of fitness goal for me, but a self image goal for me. She encouraged to pack away all my clothes, so I would stop trying them on to see if they fit. She helped me feel human about the feelings I had. Things began to turn around. I started to loss weight but I still struggled with food guilt. I want to consume as few calories as possible because I wanted nothing more than to lose the weight as quickly as possible. The binge behavior stopped, but the constant thoughts about food/what I was going to eat/what I had eaten continued.


Today, I have not lost all the weight I gained, but I have dropped just over half. My muscle definition is starting to come back, which I'm very happy about. I still meet with my trainer. She still pushes me as hard as ever. She has yet to put me on a scale or take my body fat percentage. Knowing all that I know today, I think my poor eating behavior really jacked up my metabolism. Through reading your blog, and the healthy fitspirations, I began to see that my eating habits are still not what they should be. While they are much better, I still have the random bout of guilt or the over thinking how much I ate.

The good news is I see improvement. I know how to do this. I did it once, without much effort. I still have to remind myself that it's okay to give in to my cravings. Depriving myself only leads down a more destructive path. I am thinking about food, and what I eat, less and less.

So, from the bottom of my heart (and my stomach!) thank you.

Samantha

In need of some healthy fitspiration? While you're here, you can read more great stories like Samantha's -- as well as submit your own healthy living story to be featured on our site!

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Healthy Living: Jenna's Story

>> Thursday, August 26, 2010


Jenna writes:

I've been reading everyone's healthy living stories and wanted to share my own. I read your blog every day (Thanks, Jenna!), and lots of the posts are inspirational. I'm hoping to provide a little inspiration too!

Throughout high school, I was very active. Cheer, dance, and cross country took over my life. I had zero time. I was skinny and felt amazing. After high school passed and college started, so did my problem with weight. Since I was no longer participating in sports (I had to quit my cheer career due to injury), I started gaining weight like crazy. I'm not talking a hundred pounds, I'm just talking about that extra weight that everyone tends to carry around. I definitely was part of that "freshmen 15" category. I'm only 5 feet tall, and anyone who is short knows what a change 15 pounds can make.

Fast forward a bit: I got married, then gained 15 more, and it's at this point where my story truly begins.

After getting married I "let myself go," in a sense. I stopped running completely, got a second job to pay for school, and stopped doing the things I loved. One day, my husband found a Collie/Lab mix on Craigslist. We were about to buy a house, so we eagerly went to get her because we knew we'd have space. She was the runt, but being a Lab mix, had tons of energy. Everything changed when we got our dog. I started walking her (Zoey) every day to get rid of that energy she had balled up. All that walking helped her a lot . . . and guess what!

I even lost some weight!


Walking Zoey made me feel good. I was toning up, and she was getting tired. As she grew, so did our routine. We now run instead of walk, and I'm at a comfortable weight (not my high school weight -- that would be impossible -- but I'm healthy and eat much more healthfully too!). I thought I'd get sick of running her every day, but it turns out that we need each other. She needs to get out and go, and I need to take a moment for myself.

Since I started running again, my whole world has changed. I have more energy, my marriage is better than ever, and my dogs (we have a Great Dane as well, who gets walked right after Z's runs) are healthy as can be. For a while I forgot about the power of exercise, but when you have a dog that waits for you at the door for that nightly walk or run, it's impossible to forget.

For a while I felt discouraged, like I'd never be able to feel healthy again without cheering or dancing (which is a thing of the past) and the moment I started running again I felt myself come back to life. I'm happier overall, and that's what counts. It's not your weight or how far you can go that matters, it's how you feel.

Thanks for reading my story!

Jenna Scott (from Running Wild)

In need of some healthy fitspiration? While you're here, you can read more great stories like Jenna's -- as well as submit your own healthy living story to be featured on our site!

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How I Fell in Love with Running, Part I

>> Thursday, August 19, 2010


Where were we? Well, last time -- I told you all about how I viewed health as a child. I ended that story with my discovery of yoga. If you missed out, you can go read that now. But today, I want to share how I started running.

Seriously. It wasn't always this easy for me. Far from it, in fact . . .


I contracted a horrible mystery illness after my freshman year of college. I was living in Ithaca, NY, at the time -- away from home for the summer -- and one day, my throat swelled up. I could hardly swallow soy ice cream, it was that bad. Excruciating waves of pain radiated from my pocked (yes -- ew!) tonsils. I also had a high fever, though I didn't know it yet. But I was young, and I didn't really think to go to the doctor.

So, I did what I knew to do best: I drove to Wegmans.

After standing in the medicine aisles for a while, I noticed my thinking wasn't exactly clear. No, I was dizzy and basically out of it. So, I left the store with some Tylenol and a thermometer, then got in my car to go home. I turned the key. Nothing. I turned the key again. Nothing. I thought maybe in all my out-of-it-ness, I wasn't doing something right. However, after the third attempt to start my car failed, I called my parents -- crying like a baby. Thankfully, they lived only two hours away and told me they'd be right up to help! (Thanks, mom and dad!)

I spent the next two hours sitting in the food court at Wegmans. I had taken my temperature, which was over 102 at that point. Yikes. When my parents arrived, they saw how sick I was and took me to the nearest urgent care center.

What followed was a period of about two and a half weeks where I visited two doctors, had two frantic trips to the ER (I thought my throat was going to close!), have countless viles of blood taken from my body, and eventually had to come home to stay in bed. I stayed in bed for two whole weeks. I was too weak to shower. No one knew what was wrong or why my fever stayed so high, but they blamed it on some wicked, unnamed virus that was similar, but not mononucleosis.

TMI? Maybe. However, this event was my health wake-up call. I hadn't been taking care of myself. I hadn't been eating right. I'd been drinking too much. Not sleeping enough. I rarely exercised. Those two weeks -- spent in a codeine haze, mind you -- gave me a lot of time to think about myself. My health. Toward the end, I couldn't stand it. All that pent-up energy. When my fever finally receded and my tonsils returned to their normal size, the first thing I did was go running.

This is me during this sickness thing. It was one of the few times I got out of bed.


Back to the running. I didn't have proper sneakers. I wore a baggy cotton shirt and mesh shorts I'd worn since 7th grade gym class. I didn't wear socks. But that afternoon, I walked down the stairs of my apartment building with a mission: EXERCISE. Move. Breathe. Feel ALIVE.

Two minutes later, I was panting like crazy. I hardly made it down the street before I felt like I was going to die. But I kept going -- taking walk breaks when I needed them. I did this until I was half a mile from my apartment. Then I turned around and kept going. It was hot. I felt like crap. But I needed to move my legs.


This is my first running route, a 1 mile out-and-back. It's what I ran every day (well, for the most part) for several weeks until I got more used to running.


After that, I decided to challenge myself by adding another mile to this route. Again, I did the walk-run thing if I got tired. It was difficult. OK. I'll be honest here: There were times I would swear under my breath because I hated how awful it felt. But I knew in my heart that running was good for me. I secretly enjoyed it, too. However, that feeling only came after I would finish a workout.

At some point when I was running this 2-mile route, actually -- on my 19th birthday -- I bought my first pair of running shoes. They were a much-cushioned Adidas trail sneaker. I thought they looked cute.


After several weeks of doing this 2-mile route, I increased my distance to three miles. A loop instead of an out-and-back. I kept at this distance for the rest of the summer. My hunger increased -- I started seeing food as fuel. In turn, my eating changed. I felt strong and resilient. I didn't keep track of my pace back then, but I was much slower than I am today. It didn't matter, though: I had forged my identity as a runner. I printed off a 5K plan in late August.

But the universe had other plans.

I was back in the ER after I badly twisted my knee -- I didn't do this running. Nope. Clumsy me twisted it while packing to move to my new apartment. The doctor told me I had nearly torn a ligament and that the only recipe for pain relief was rest and ice. I can't even begin to explain how discouraged this made me feel. I was a runner, I told the doctor. I couldn't take time off. I was finally able to run three miles consistently!


I listened to his advice, though. I knew I had to or I might never run again. Plus, the pain. Ouch. So, I moved. I started the fall semester of my sophomore year. And on September 11, 2002, I went for my first post-injury run. I remember it was September 11th because there was a memorial at the local high school that I ran by. I ran in the dark because I didn't want anyone to see me struggle. I had pain, yes. But I was OK enough to run my three miles. My ability to retain my fitness shocked me. I wasn't quite as comfortable, but I wasn't completely out of breath either!

On that run, I fell in love. I felt confident, strong, and fit. I felt HAPPY for my new relationship with food and my body (it didn't used to be so good, as you'll remember) . . . and I was far from the weak, bed-ridden teen that I had been earlier in the summer. I was also far from that girl who hated running The Mile in gym class.


That's part I. Part II is coming soon! In the meantime, are you in need of some healthy fitspiration? While you're here, you can read more great stories -- as well as submit your own healthy living story to be featured on our site!

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Exercise: What's Too Much?

>> Sunday, August 8, 2010


When I started training for longer distances races, my mileage, naturally, went way up. So did my resolve to get in all my prescribed workouts and to track my progress. After each workout, I'd scrawl my stats onto a calendar with the miles run, mile pace, and total time. Check, check, and check. I became so proud of my training, I wanted to tell the world! Of course, my mom knew all about my progress. And as all moms likely do, mine worried that I was running too much. That I had become exercised-obsessed. I don't blame her for perceiving my dedication in this way.

However, there's a fine line between what's "enough" and what's "too much." The main differentiation is in attitude and feelings toward the activity. I know what it's like to be exercised obsessed because I've experienced it. It's when I used to sweat AT LEAST two times a day despite being completely exhausted. It's when running without a watch wasn't even a question I could entertain. It's when I didn't have any plan, so I'd run as fast and far as I possibly could. It's when I'd rush home to calculate from miles run to calories burned. If I didn't do enough, I'd head out for another couple miles or minutes.


The summer I was exercised obsessed, I'd wake up at 5:30 to get in my run for the day. Or so I thought. I'd usually run for an hour -- the more hills and speed, the better. I'd go to work all day and then come home. Then, I'd get all this nervous energy. I'd feel like resting for the night wasn't OK -- no, resting felt like laziness. So, I started taking hour (or more)-long walks. Eventually, I added vigorous biking to my routine. I'd then wake up, bike AND run. Go to work. Come home and run again. Just a few miles at first, then entire second workouts. Almost every single day. I even occasionally missed going out with friends to get in my extra workouts.

I realized I had a problem when I ran a PR at a 5K, drove home, and headed out for a "cool down" run . . . where I continued to push myself as hard and fast as I could until I nearly cried from the pain in my gut. I had just run a race. A person best at that. Exercise wasn't fun anymore. It was something I HAD to do. That night, why couldn't I just celebrate my victory? Why wasn't that run enough for me? Though I continued to struggle through the rest of that summer, that particular night was a wakeup call. I slowly pulled myself from afternoon workouts by hanging out with friends, cooking and baking, and enjoying other activities.


It was EXTREMELY difficult to change my habits -- I had programmed into my mind that my routine was healthy. But after all that exercise, I had lost a lot of weight. I was tired and getting sick often. I didn't have time to enjoy anything else in life. Constant movement also impacted my sleep and mental well-being. What helped me get out of this pattern was recognizing that my "addiction" wasn't just linked to my desire to be fit. I was dealing with a lot in my life that summer, and my anguish manifested itself through my over-exercise.

I cannot define what's right or wrong for you specifically. It's all in how YOU feel. It depends on your goals and experience. We're all at different levels with our training. So, all you can do is be honest with yourself. Now I'm in a good place with my training. Even though I'm running more miles than I did back in my exercise-obsessed days, I pay attention to my body when it hurts or needs rest. I do the workouts in my training plan, and no more. My supplemental exercise is just that: Light (keyword LIGHT) activity outside my normal routine. Anything I do in addition to my runs is for fun. Truly.


I now see exercise and training as part of my life -- not my entire life. Though I'm putting in tons of miles for the marathon, I'm treating myself well. I'm paying attention to the signals my body is sending me. I'm OK with missing workouts. And I enjoy what I'm doing.

Here are just a few articles and resources that can help you if you think you or someone you know may have a problem. Even if you don't, it's good to study this information.
Have you overcome exercise addiction? Do you have any tips to share with others who may be struggling? We'd love to hear/share your story. Just leave a comment or email us at neverhomemaker [at] gmail [dot] com.

Like what you just read? You can subscribe to the feed of these posts or follow us on Twitter or Facebook to be the first to know what the (never home)makers are up to. And we’ll love you forever!!

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