So I am pretty much over my latest cold now. I fought the cold for a week and a half before I submitted to its evil. I was still running outside at that point and breathing in the fresh air was definitely keeping the cold at bay. That plus some Zicam. But then the dreaded hip flexor which I have been battling all summer reared its ugly head and I realized that I had to cool it with the running for awhile. Returned to physical therapy 2 weeks ago.
It's amazing what happens when you stop breathing in fresh air, stop physical activity because of an injury. Within 4 days, I had a full-blown sore throat and congestion. I hate sore throats, they are the worst. But I guess a cold once a year is better than 4 times a year.
Rewind to when I was much heavier and smoking. I must have had a cold every season, even summer. Summer colds are the worst, especially with the humidity levels. You feel like you can't breathe. Looking back on it, it's not surprising why I was sick so much. First, I was polluting my lungs and second, my level of physical activity was zero. Also, the colds I would get back then would be awful and would literally knock me out for a week.
Now, many, many pounds lighter and no longer smoking, I don't get colds as often, only about once a year. Well, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out why I am not getting as many colds. The clear lungs from quitting smoking has a lot to do with it. But, does the lighter body weight have anything to do with it? Not sure, but the increased physical activity has made a difference. Many studies have been shown that exercise can boost immune function. This theory probably is true since when I was heavier I would be out of the game for a week, where now, it may only be a couple of days. In fact, I took a sick day to get some rest and the next day went to exercise class because I was going to "sweat out the germs". The other thing I notice with running is when my sinuses are stuffed up, the fresh, crisp air and oxygen was a natural sinus rinse. And let's not forget the benefits of real food either. As opposed to food that looks beige (to use a term from Bob Harper, referring to fried food)
I hate being sick. Isn't that enough of a reason to get healthy?
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Hating yourself
So I thought this would be a good time for a new entry. Just finished another race, still working out, still eating right, still feeling good about myself. So I am watching the new season of the Biggest Loser and the first show is all about the player introductions. Which means that you hear and see their stories. And if you have been there and felt the humiliation, I don't care how fit you get, the skeletons in your closet come knocking on your door and you remember some of the lowest points in your life.
The first show is always hard for me to watch and I wind up crying at some point. Or cry through the whole thing. I remember being so humiliated getting a sub at Dibella's practically every day feeling like everyone was looking at me thinking, "She is the last person who needs a sub, what a fat slob!" I remember walking around my apartment in a red, flowered housedress which might as well have been called a mumu because it was the only thing that would fit me. I remember being so sad that I couldn't shop in the misses department, that I had to shop in the plus department and how there was nothing fashionable for me to wear. And what I wound up wearing made me look frumpy and a lot older that I actually was. Not the way I wanted to live in my 20's but that is what happened. What should have been the best of times was actually the lowest of times.
And of course, you get the snickers and the jokes. I remember at my old job, I was leaving for the day and my key chain was making a sound like a cow bell. I walked past two guys and I could have sworn that I heard one of them say "moo". I am not sure if I imagined it, but it was pretty humiliating.
Remembering how humiliated and ashamed I was of myself, I swore that I would never let my kids have their mother be the butt of their friend's jokes. Because I know what childhood is like and how awful kids can be to one another. This is why I do what I do, why I push like I do, why I post my workouts like I do. If I can share my story and pass on what I know and pay it forward, I am going to do it. I am also sharing my story because I was once there in that awful place, being made fun of, having no confidence, wasting my life in an unhealthy body. I am not wasting my life any longer.
The first show is always hard for me to watch and I wind up crying at some point. Or cry through the whole thing. I remember being so humiliated getting a sub at Dibella's practically every day feeling like everyone was looking at me thinking, "She is the last person who needs a sub, what a fat slob!" I remember walking around my apartment in a red, flowered housedress which might as well have been called a mumu because it was the only thing that would fit me. I remember being so sad that I couldn't shop in the misses department, that I had to shop in the plus department and how there was nothing fashionable for me to wear. And what I wound up wearing made me look frumpy and a lot older that I actually was. Not the way I wanted to live in my 20's but that is what happened. What should have been the best of times was actually the lowest of times.
And of course, you get the snickers and the jokes. I remember at my old job, I was leaving for the day and my key chain was making a sound like a cow bell. I walked past two guys and I could have sworn that I heard one of them say "moo". I am not sure if I imagined it, but it was pretty humiliating.
Remembering how humiliated and ashamed I was of myself, I swore that I would never let my kids have their mother be the butt of their friend's jokes. Because I know what childhood is like and how awful kids can be to one another. This is why I do what I do, why I push like I do, why I post my workouts like I do. If I can share my story and pass on what I know and pay it forward, I am going to do it. I am also sharing my story because I was once there in that awful place, being made fun of, having no confidence, wasting my life in an unhealthy body. I am not wasting my life any longer.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Dave
As I start off writing this new post, I am trying to remember how long he has been gone. Wow, the end of January. So almost 9 months has gone by since I lost my friend who could have been more had fate decided otherwise.
Our lives really are decided on timing and the choices we make. Before I went back to Hartwick for my senior year, I reconnected with Jon who would eventually become my husband. I had decided for myself that this was fate that we were going to end up together. I went back to school for my senior year and I met this guy through the telethon work I was doing for the school. Dave was from a small town near me, so we did occasionally see other during school breaks. My husband wasn't able to make it to my sorority formal in November so I asked Dave to come with me. Little did I realize how much fun I would have with him that we would end up spending the whole next day together.
Things progressed that year and we became close, very close. There was a lot of heavy flirting and more. But, Dave knew where I was coming from and I told him I could only give so much, that choices had already been made. The night before I graduated, there were lots of kisses and lots of smoke.
Yep, Dave was a smoker. But then again, so was I. For those of you who follow my running/exercise posts, pick your chins off the floor. It is true. During college, it was a pack a day habit. After college, it continued to maybe 1/3 of a pack, 1/2 a pack habit. By this time, I had also gained quite a bit of weight so not only was I obese but also a smoker. A deadly combination. But if I quit smoking, then I would probably gain more weight too, so I needed to get the weight under control first.
I hadn't seen Dave since I graduated or even talked to him for that matter. It was probably better that way. We had both gone our separate ways, got married and had our families. Leave it to the power of facebook to find people. I found Dave and we reconnected. It was good to find him again and see what was going on. And that's when I realized what was going on. CANCER. Effin' cancer. Stage 3 Lung Cancer. Are you frickin' kidding me? He was 37. Way too young for lung cancer, or any cancer as far as I was concerned. My father-in-law had passed away from lung cancer at 61 and smoked 2 packs a day, unfiltered. That I could understand. But I couldn't understand this. I mean, I had smoked too. Why was this happening to him and not me? And he had a daughter that was not even 2 yet and found out that another little one was on the way. By the time I found this all out, I had successfully quit smoking for 2 years and had taken on a new addiction (working out) Thank God I had seen the light.
I had lots of tears as I realized what was going on with my friend and kept myself updated on his website, caringbridge.org. Dave lived for another 13 months after that, enough time to welcome the birth of a baby girl and have 2 Christmas's. The cancer had spread to his brain and I knew what that meant. The same thing had happened to my father-in-law. By the time he got pneumonica, I braced myself for the news that would eventually come. A week or so later, he passed away. I cried that entire morning as I realized Dave was gone, I cried for his family, his wife, his daughters.
I thought a lot about what I could do to tell his story. The story of a young man who never knew his life would be cut short because of mistakes made in his youth. So I will be running races in his honor to spread the word about living a healthy lifestyle. I am running because at the end, he had an oxygen tank. I am lucky enough to be able to run with the breath in my clean lungs.
I also urge you to visit caringbridge.org and consider making a donation. Or if you have a family member or friend who is going through a health crisis, consider using this website to share their stories, their fight and keep in touch with others. CaringBridge is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit providing free websites that connect family and friends during a serious health event, care and recovery.
CaringBridge.org is a website that is personal, private and available 24/7. It helps ease the burden of keeping family and friends informed. The websites are easy to create and use. The authors add health updates and photos to share their story while visitors leave messages of love and support in the guestbook.
I still miss you and love you. Rest in peace, my friend.
Our lives really are decided on timing and the choices we make. Before I went back to Hartwick for my senior year, I reconnected with Jon who would eventually become my husband. I had decided for myself that this was fate that we were going to end up together. I went back to school for my senior year and I met this guy through the telethon work I was doing for the school. Dave was from a small town near me, so we did occasionally see other during school breaks. My husband wasn't able to make it to my sorority formal in November so I asked Dave to come with me. Little did I realize how much fun I would have with him that we would end up spending the whole next day together.
Things progressed that year and we became close, very close. There was a lot of heavy flirting and more. But, Dave knew where I was coming from and I told him I could only give so much, that choices had already been made. The night before I graduated, there were lots of kisses and lots of smoke.
Yep, Dave was a smoker. But then again, so was I. For those of you who follow my running/exercise posts, pick your chins off the floor. It is true. During college, it was a pack a day habit. After college, it continued to maybe 1/3 of a pack, 1/2 a pack habit. By this time, I had also gained quite a bit of weight so not only was I obese but also a smoker. A deadly combination. But if I quit smoking, then I would probably gain more weight too, so I needed to get the weight under control first.
I hadn't seen Dave since I graduated or even talked to him for that matter. It was probably better that way. We had both gone our separate ways, got married and had our families. Leave it to the power of facebook to find people. I found Dave and we reconnected. It was good to find him again and see what was going on. And that's when I realized what was going on. CANCER. Effin' cancer. Stage 3 Lung Cancer. Are you frickin' kidding me? He was 37. Way too young for lung cancer, or any cancer as far as I was concerned. My father-in-law had passed away from lung cancer at 61 and smoked 2 packs a day, unfiltered. That I could understand. But I couldn't understand this. I mean, I had smoked too. Why was this happening to him and not me? And he had a daughter that was not even 2 yet and found out that another little one was on the way. By the time I found this all out, I had successfully quit smoking for 2 years and had taken on a new addiction (working out) Thank God I had seen the light.
I had lots of tears as I realized what was going on with my friend and kept myself updated on his website, caringbridge.org. Dave lived for another 13 months after that, enough time to welcome the birth of a baby girl and have 2 Christmas's. The cancer had spread to his brain and I knew what that meant. The same thing had happened to my father-in-law. By the time he got pneumonica, I braced myself for the news that would eventually come. A week or so later, he passed away. I cried that entire morning as I realized Dave was gone, I cried for his family, his wife, his daughters.
I thought a lot about what I could do to tell his story. The story of a young man who never knew his life would be cut short because of mistakes made in his youth. So I will be running races in his honor to spread the word about living a healthy lifestyle. I am running because at the end, he had an oxygen tank. I am lucky enough to be able to run with the breath in my clean lungs.
I also urge you to visit caringbridge.org and consider making a donation. Or if you have a family member or friend who is going through a health crisis, consider using this website to share their stories, their fight and keep in touch with others. CaringBridge is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit providing free websites that connect family and friends during a serious health event, care and recovery.
CaringBridge.org is a website that is personal, private and available 24/7. It helps ease the burden of keeping family and friends informed. The websites are easy to create and use. The authors add health updates and photos to share their story while visitors leave messages of love and support in the guestbook.
I still miss you and love you. Rest in peace, my friend.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
What a difference 10 years makes...
Wow, has it really been 2 months since my last entry? I am definitely going to make a promise to myself to be a little more active. I have been really busy though with my son's broken foot, physical therapy for he and myself, taking my daughter to soccer, working, working out, yada, yada, yada. You know the drill: the life of a busy soccer mom.
So this was a big weekend: The dreaded high school reunion, number 20. The judgement from your former classmates, will we pass the test of time? The last time our class had a big reunion it was for our 10 year. I was a little (okay, a lot) heavy and was not feeling really good about myself. I still remember wearing an undergarment from top to bottom that was designed to "suck" everything in so I would look thinner. It didn't work.
Fast forward 10 years later, last night. One of our classmates was taking pictures modeled after the 10 year photos. In other words, whoever we posed with in the 10 year photo, we posed with in the 20 year photo. Since making some diet and exercise changes, the 20 year photo looks a little different than the 10 year photo. Do I dare say I might look younger?
No, it didn't take me 10 years to look better, but it is a long process. I remember a line from Losing it with Jillian a few weeks ago and she said, "I don't walk in and you magically get skinny. I'm not a frickin' genie!" Hard work and dedication gets you results. There isn't a magic pill that you can take.
On another note, congrats to my friends Jackie and Meg. They both have lost 35 pounds recently thanks to exercise and making a change in their eating habits. They both look frickin' awesome!
One last image from last night. The attempt at the MC Hammer dance. But my arms look pretty good! Stay well!
Sunday, May 16, 2010
My first baby
I can't believe my son is going to be 8 years old next weekend. Where has the time gone? It just seems like yesterday that my husband and I were struggling with the car seat in the parking lot of the hospital, convinced that social services had been called to come take the baby away because we clearly were not going to be good parents if we couldn't work a car seat! I still remember the first time we changed his diaper in the hospital (the nurse made us) and it was the black poo. It was then that my husband and I realized that "oh, we don't get to take the nurse home with us?" But, we got through it. That was 8 years ago this month. But a year before that, I was dealing with the death of my first child.
I lost my first baby about a year before Aidan was born. The possibility of miscarriage wasn't even on my radar. After all, my mother didn't have a miscarriage and I had thought it was genetic, that it ran in families. My husband and I went to our 14-week appointment, hoping to hear the heartbeat. When my doctor wasn't able to hear anything, she sent me for an ultrasound. I remember sitting on the table during the ultrasound, watching at what the technician was doing on the screen, looking at this fetus on the screen and it never occured to me that there was no heartbeat. When they had to come tell me the news, I was completely devastated. By their measurements, they guess that the fetus stopped growing at 10 weeks but weren't sure when it had died. Because of this, I had to have a D&C which was scheduled a couple of days after that.
I felt completely alone during this time. Sure your partner, family and friends are there for you, but you still feel very alone. No one really understands what you are feeling, except for those who have been through it themselves. There is a lot of guilt that you feel. For me, the guilt was from me not being able to protect my baby in my body and that I allowed this to happen. I was obese at the time, so I'm not sure if my overall health (or lack of), could have had anything to do with it. I never found out and will never know why I lost that first baby. Fortunately, I didn't allow myself to shut out everyone and put my faith in God that things would work out. But it took me a long time to recover from that tragedy.
Four months later, I got pregnant with Aidan. In those four months, I had managed to lose 20 pounds so I was able to get a little more healthy for my little one. As you can imagine, I was nervous during that first trimester but it did pass without incident. On May 22nd at 6:41, my son made his entrance into the world in dramatic fashion: vaccuum delivery with the cord wrapped around his neck twice and his stomach but he was just fine. He arrived one year to the day of my D&C.
As I finish this up, my daughter is putting lipstick on me and I am in tears thinking of how lucky I am with the two healthy kids I have. My daughter just asked, "Mommy, why do you have water on your face? Are you sweaty?" Nope, I'm just thanking God for the gifts I have and thinking of the one that I never forgot about.
I lost my first baby about a year before Aidan was born. The possibility of miscarriage wasn't even on my radar. After all, my mother didn't have a miscarriage and I had thought it was genetic, that it ran in families. My husband and I went to our 14-week appointment, hoping to hear the heartbeat. When my doctor wasn't able to hear anything, she sent me for an ultrasound. I remember sitting on the table during the ultrasound, watching at what the technician was doing on the screen, looking at this fetus on the screen and it never occured to me that there was no heartbeat. When they had to come tell me the news, I was completely devastated. By their measurements, they guess that the fetus stopped growing at 10 weeks but weren't sure when it had died. Because of this, I had to have a D&C which was scheduled a couple of days after that.
I felt completely alone during this time. Sure your partner, family and friends are there for you, but you still feel very alone. No one really understands what you are feeling, except for those who have been through it themselves. There is a lot of guilt that you feel. For me, the guilt was from me not being able to protect my baby in my body and that I allowed this to happen. I was obese at the time, so I'm not sure if my overall health (or lack of), could have had anything to do with it. I never found out and will never know why I lost that first baby. Fortunately, I didn't allow myself to shut out everyone and put my faith in God that things would work out. But it took me a long time to recover from that tragedy.
Four months later, I got pregnant with Aidan. In those four months, I had managed to lose 20 pounds so I was able to get a little more healthy for my little one. As you can imagine, I was nervous during that first trimester but it did pass without incident. On May 22nd at 6:41, my son made his entrance into the world in dramatic fashion: vaccuum delivery with the cord wrapped around his neck twice and his stomach but he was just fine. He arrived one year to the day of my D&C.
As I finish this up, my daughter is putting lipstick on me and I am in tears thinking of how lucky I am with the two healthy kids I have. My daughter just asked, "Mommy, why do you have water on your face? Are you sweaty?" Nope, I'm just thanking God for the gifts I have and thinking of the one that I never forgot about.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
It's not being selfish, it's putting yourself at the top of your list again
I had an interesting chat with one of my clients today. For confidentiality reasons, we won't name names but needless to say, this client is in the health care industry and specializes in helping patients with chronic pain. This office has many employees who tend to put themselves pretty low on their priority list. People whose jobs involve the constant taking care of others forget that they have to take care of themselves as well. Because of this, the employees are starting to have a "no care" attitude about themselves.
As mothers, we tend to fall into this same trap as well. Everyone comes before our needs: our children, our parents, our husband, our job. Everyone is more important than we are. Because of this, we fall further and further down the chart until we are basically non-existent. When we start to feel this unimportant, we don't care about what we look like. So who cares if I dress sloppy, my hair is out of date, or I am not eating right or exercising?
We should. As mothers, we want to teach our children self-respect and taking pride in yourself. But if as mothers we don't take this same pride in ourselves, then what have we really taught our children? We need to be role models by example and not just by words.
Some people may think that mothers who spend some time on themselves by improving their looks, exercising, etc. might be selfish. After all, that extra time she was at the gym or with her friends was extra time she could have devoted to her children, right? I suppose. But another thing I want to teach my kids is to love yourself and love others. How can I teach them how to love without first loving yourself? So that's why I make sure that I carve out time in my crazy, hectic life for me, just me! For me, it's going out for a run or going to the gym. For you, maybe it's scrapbooking or getting together with your girlfriends for dinner. Whatever it is, it's that time where you realize you haven't forgotten about yourself and become a non-existent person. That you do love yourself and love yourself enough to move up to #1 on the priority list!
As mothers, we tend to fall into this same trap as well. Everyone comes before our needs: our children, our parents, our husband, our job. Everyone is more important than we are. Because of this, we fall further and further down the chart until we are basically non-existent. When we start to feel this unimportant, we don't care about what we look like. So who cares if I dress sloppy, my hair is out of date, or I am not eating right or exercising?
We should. As mothers, we want to teach our children self-respect and taking pride in yourself. But if as mothers we don't take this same pride in ourselves, then what have we really taught our children? We need to be role models by example and not just by words.
Some people may think that mothers who spend some time on themselves by improving their looks, exercising, etc. might be selfish. After all, that extra time she was at the gym or with her friends was extra time she could have devoted to her children, right? I suppose. But another thing I want to teach my kids is to love yourself and love others. How can I teach them how to love without first loving yourself? So that's why I make sure that I carve out time in my crazy, hectic life for me, just me! For me, it's going out for a run or going to the gym. For you, maybe it's scrapbooking or getting together with your girlfriends for dinner. Whatever it is, it's that time where you realize you haven't forgotten about yourself and become a non-existent person. That you do love yourself and love yourself enough to move up to #1 on the priority list!
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