The Journey 9-5-13

Beginnings
I look into the mirror today and I hate myself. I have hated myself for so long that I cannot remember when it began. But the feeling of self loathing begins to grow. I confirm it when I get on the scale, when my clothes don't button, when I can not longer stretch the favorite top enough to cover the bulges that clearly display my weakness. I stand in self loathing showering myself with all the evidence. Wanting to wash it away with some kind of magic cleansing that will make me see thin and beautiful in the mirror. But the reflection only confirms my fear.  It is true. I am fat and ugly.

The above is a scene I repeat almost daily. I live with this demon and there are days when I feed its fire. But not today, I choose to begin again. I surrender, not to the enemy of self loathing, but to the serenity of love. I arm myself with its peace. Once again I set the intention to take care of myself, to begin with gratitude for the present moment and to choose yes.. Yes, today  I may have the feelings, but the feelings will not have me.
9-4-13

Hard Start. 9-7-13

The Journey- Hard Start

I want this to be easy. Like slipping on comfortable shoes, but it's not. It was hard to get up at 5:20 today. Taking the first baby steps toward some form of exercise.. I want this, I really do but it's hard. It's a commitment to a new way of living. It's saying yes even when your afraid of failing, like all the other times. I have done this before, I have succeeded before in weight loss and in running. But then I let go. I hold on to the lifeline but something happens and life once again challenges me with its ebb and flow of good and bad, presenting  the old ways of thinking and I let go. I sink down into the abyss I have know for too long. The hopelessness of failure and,though I don't want to stay there ,it is comfortable even in my longing to be free.
It is hard to start again. I am 61 and still doing this, I say to myself. Then I realize that the this will never be over. Taking care of myself will never be done.  I understand that now as I write this. Age has little to do with my goal. I  begin to reframe my self talk. I see clearly that losing muscle mass is a fact of aging. The good news is it doesn't have to be. The best news is people with torches are coming to light my way to success. Thank you my light bearers ,you have shown me a way. I can see again that there is hope. I will get up tomorrow renewed and reinvigorated in my quest to find my best self even at 5:20 there is now a flicker of light in my purpose.

Fear of Flying. 9-9-13

I am trying to plan my new life. Slipping in any walking when I can, taking the long way around and using the stairs more than not. I worry about how hard this will be. I am on my own with the training, no one is watching me or saying 5 more.  I sit and think am I doing this right, but any doing is better than non doing. I feel awkward and so unfit. I desperately want this part to be over . I want to be running my 3 miles and lifting 10 pound weights in whatever strength training I encounter as part of my program. I just hate the beginning. I am scared and nervous that it won't work. But that is old thinking, it is not the Yes I have promised myself. So I walk forward in hope, resolving to do the work, relinquishing the outcome to the universe. I set the intention, I know where I want to go and it is all so much bigger than me.

The Journey- You Have to Make the Shift 9-23-13

I know the shortest distance between two points is a straight line. Seems I have been a little askew lately taking this way and that to the path of weight loss. I keep saying this is hard. Just to fall into the range of those annoying body mass index charts would require at least a 50 pound weight loss. The task seem rather daunting as I have not seen that kind of weight reduction in 10 or 15 years. 50 pounds I say to myself. I'll just have another cookie.
But somewhere along that line one has to make the shift. I read somewhere, in one of those self help diet books, that it is all about the psychological shift. In other words what I put into my head. I have played a lot of games in my head,convincing myself that those hundred calorie packs were really zero, or that the chocolate nugget didn't really count because it was soooo small. What's different now is that I have set my intention: it is no longer about what I would like to eat, it is about choosing something I want even more- to be the best me I can be and that includes losing weight.
My diet companions in the great library of books I have collected say"When  you are at the point where the pain of the present out-weighs the sacrifice change demands you are really ready"! I am there at point A.
That's my straight line, I am fed up, I am willing to work hard, I have a plan and best of all I have people who believe I can succeed. I am at point A and the line seems straighter than ever in reaching out to meet point B.

Make the Commitment. 10-6-13

What happens first is the dream. There is magic in beginning, a tail wind of sorts, where all kinds of aid starts to come to you. Our higher self is calling to us and allying itself to our deepest desires.But there is no magic to the commitment, the thing you resolve to do when  you make up your mind to do it and you do it.   It is then after the promise and the best of intentions that we see resistance, the shadow that follows the dream. So you don't have to do it, the logging of food,the exercise, the food preperation necessary for healthy eating, it's your choice the inner voice chants  Then comes the nagging sensation you feel when not doing what's good for you is worse than doing it.

How do I get out of my small mind and lose myself to the bigger picture, to living more in the present and focusing on the now and not the results.  The shadow says I am not worthy,not good enough, done this before and can't do it again. These negative thoughts roam in my head, creating the fear of failure. Then panic sets in. What if I can't do this? This shadow voice, this force of nature that confronts us and keeps us stuck in the same old stuff. What is the thing that keeps me from taking care of myself?

We feel resistance most strongly when we are about to dare greatly and grow spiritually. I know the road ahead is unending but I fight the resistance in me because when I do the universe begins to lift me up sending me its messages of hope affirming my intention to be who I was created to be, encouraging me to offer my gifts to the world. Ok so it's a choice. I consciously set the intention to be my best self. I don't have to do it alone. But I have to choose it, day by day, moment by moment.

An open letter to my right knee, left arch, and both hips:

Dear Appendages:
I know I haven't always been good to you. I did way too much and way too little all at once. I spent decades abusing you with gravity, gluttony and indifference.  But, don't give up because I am better now and I am hoping that you all get better too.  Don't make that horrible grinding noise that had Josh purposely positioning my workouts near the fan to drown you out.  Don't swell and ache at every ridiculous change in the weather and don't riddle my soft tissue with "rice crispies" that have to be filed away by a professional for me to stay ambulatory, and most of all don't drop me- even if I  deserve all of it.  If you do we'll miss too much of the amazing stuff we can do now.  There are mountains to climb, races to run, and teams to be part of.  I know I owe you all. I will pay the way with food journals that scream lean protein and vegetables, with stretches that bore me but work, with training even when I'm not training, and with SLEEP.  I await your terms...
Thank you,
Me

The Pact

About 15 years ago my friend and I agreed to walk every morning before work.  To fit it in we had to walk at 5:30am and when winter came along it was REALLY hard to face the dark, cold Iowa mornings.  But we had a signal.  When each of us got ready we would put the front porch light on so the other could see.  There were definitely days when I dreaded going but my friend's light was on and I couldn't let her down and vice versa.  So we walked consistently in nearly every kind of weather because we had made a fitness pact.  Now there is texting, blogs, facetime, and facebook and sometimes they take too much attention.  But when it comes to this journey it is such a gift to have people who are in it with me (and you know who you are from PA to VA, MI to OR and everywhere in between)   I'm still just looking out my front window and seeing the light and in case you didn't know it is you.  You are the signal.  So no matter how dark or cold or tired I keep moving forward.

Not that Willing

"If my meniscus is the culprit, what can I do to help my knee, other than be lighter?"  This is how training starts off today.  My right knee made a noise yesterday that no joint should ever make.  Not the grinding patellar tracking condition that has been there for a decade.  This was more like a pop. It was loud and foreboding.  And so was the implication that came with it.  Let's face it I have been working out hard for ten years.  I talk about fitness all day long at work.  My whole household will swear that our pantry and fridge are not worth raiding. I have dreaded this day.  Because the truth is I know Greg's formula for losing twenty pounds.  It is an amazingly simple formula:  "Just eat 50 calories a day less than you need and in time it adds up to 20 pounds.  But I have cut nearly all of the "extras" out and I am tracking my intake so I know where these calories have to come from and I am loathe to admit it.  But I need two knees that work and that makes me willing on a level that my willingness has not been since I faced the prospect of seat belt extenders on an airplane...  It  means cutting coffee, or more precisely, the creamer in my coffee. I know from looking at my stats that these are consistently the least nutritious calories I consume.  So, there it is.  Simple.  If you are willing.

Whichever One You Feed

I don't know the origin, but legend has it that a boy and his father were watching two wild dogs poised for attack, one is healthy & strong with a thick, lustrous coat, and bright eyes while the other is mangy, starving, and scarred from many vicious fights.  The boy questions: "Which one will survive..."  The father replies: "Whichever one you feed."  

Today was one of those days where you feel your time and decisions being at odds like those two dogs.  Assurance eluded me and I went from one chore to the next, not accomplishing much.  My breathing felt shallow and rushed , I needed to be in at least two places simultaneously and am tired for no reason.  After too many hours of this I change clothes and go to my elliptical.  I am not really in the mood but have to try to shake my listlessness and the frustration of being tied to other people's priorities.  I commit to 30 minutes.  But, after 17 minutes I know this is the first good choice I have made in the ten hours since I got up.  My breathing evens out and I start mentally checking off the issues that perplexed me earlier.  Five miles later, life is good again.  But, the mangy dog is always on the prowl which is why I have an elliptical and don't keep Ben & Jerry's in my freezer.

Mirror, Mirror

I think I was in college the first time I heard the term "positive affirmation." I was attending one of many meetings in my long but unimpressive weight loss career. We were asked to practice saying phrases like "I am beautiful" while standing in front of a full length mirror. And, even then, I immediately understood the point and cringed at the very idea of doing it.

Just facing all 238.6 pounds of me prompted a tirade of insults. That instinct was so ingrained that even after losing more than 50 pounds, I would be in the gym in middle of an exercise and get completely derailed if I just noticed my reflection. I didn't realize this when it happened. It was as natural and ignored as breathing. But, it interfered enough that my trainer, Josh, without a word, started to deliberately position himself between the mirror and me, refusing to let my progress be waylaid, cutting the intrusions (I'm such a spaz"  "I look ridiculous") back as easily as if he'd reached up and smothered an attacker. The benefit of such quiet kindness (from someone typically so booming) is etched into my memory forever. But, of course, Josh couldn't stay and the latent venom-- "you pathetic girl", "you're so uncoordinated," "you idiot"-- of stings poses a greater threat over time.

It was after Josh moved that I realized his tactic and how much it eased my anxiety. I motioned to Greg in between reps to block the mirror...because, well, at the time I really didn't know Greg Hoak....If I had I would not have bothered.  I would have expected the laugh and response that came unequivocally which was "Oh if you are distracted by your own reflection you are just not working hard enough."  Suffice it say I never asked Greg for a "Can you prop up my dysfunction for me while we train" favor again.  I won't claim that I never winced at the mirror after that but I'll admit it's hard to absorb negative self talk when you are running a 3 story staircase or  hauling a box, sled, sledgehammer, etc.  Maybe it's the head rush talking, but now when I look in the mirror I can't help seeing all the sets and reps, starts and finish lines, all the appointments kept,  the action, and it occurs to me that "mirror" is better as a verb.  So, I strive to reflect the fantastic truth  "it is impossible for it not to work; it works every time"... to Mirror it out into the world.

Six Simple Weight Loss Musts From Someone Who Knows

Motivation and inspiration are crucial but sometimes you just need some practical tips from someone who has been there and is not trying to make money off of you.  If you are like me you decide to lose weight or get in shape but have no idea how to deal with the snags along the way.

1) If you have young children; find a gym with childcare.  This was a jackpot: like hour 25 plus a guaranteed shower and time to listen to my own music all rolled into one.  I guarantee you I was a better parent because of it.

2) The best kept secret isn't Victoria's in my experience.  Go to www.enell.com instead.  Even if you don't buy anything their blog is a wellspring of information and celebration.

3) I actually have to think about the order of these but yes, Music beats shoes.  I guess I really do think of my headphones as Skullcandy after all.  I started ten years ago with a case full of CDs but now I'm lost without iTunes and Pandora.  Someday I'll go for the premium version so I can skip the ads. I also reward myself with songs.  It's a good replacement for food rewards and often revives my workout.

4) Shoes, they really do make or break me.  Too individual for a recommendation but I will say that the wrong shoes have landed me in physical therapy.

5) Gum, I chew it at times or in situations where I would eat mindlessly.  Sometimes a 2 second pause is all I need to ward off bad habits.

6 ) Setting my scale to kilograms demonstrated in a nanosecond how much crap I've swallowed when it comes to weight measurement.  It's just an indicator, meant to guide us like one's body temperature or pulse.  Switching to Kg gives me a real metric without false praise or scorn.

Finding Yes at the Bottom of a Pint of Cherry Garcia

Even as I peel back the "freshness" seal I warn myself-  "You know this is just going to upset you later..." 

Oh yes, I know but I go on digging the grave of a thousand healthy decisions in a fell swoop like someone else is running my spoon. And the same old traitor, she reminds me that its not too far from here to our old hangout brimming with holiday treats and trite reasons like "after all we might as well."   It's tempting, to leap off my wagon until New Year's, but that's what it would be- a leap -not a fall. I know I can keep myself on; but fitness isn't two faced.   I'll have to throw her off first and there's a part of me that doesn't want to.

Still I call her out.  I can give her no quarter.
I will be true even when, NO, especially when I succumb.  Falling for packaging that someone deliberately designed to fit in one hand, passing off four servings as one.

 So I say it: " I betrayed my best self,"  but not for long.

 I am sick on the words & not even Ben & Jerry can mask the bitter taste.

 The scale said I was safe, but I knew I wasn't.  Just because you can't weigh a ghost doesn't mean its gone.

 I can hear her, conniving, justifying, maneuvering worse than the caloric math--the aftermath. There is a part of me that is drawn to her like John Nash was to Charles and Marcee in "A Beautiful Mind" but "she never grows up" either. The myth unravels. I leave its shadow behind and run for sunlight.

I face the glare ushering in pathetic reality.

 I say it out loud, the same day.
 I messed up.
 I ate the entire carton.

And as if I clicked my own Ruby slippers...I am back where I belong.  In that instant, in the disinfecting sun, what feels weak reveals underlying strength.  Like a fast fever that recognizes an intruding virus and will not relent to keep you comfortable.  Healing takes Truth : Truth Heals.   I'm done saving face.  I'll save the rest of me instead.

Nobody Can Do it For You--BUT

The day you pick up the phone or stop someone in the gym and ask about training should get circled on your calendar.  But I bet it won't be. In the beginning such a pivotal move feels ordinary, even pointless, but it's not; it's heroic.  No one could have felt more pathetic walking into a health club than I did ten years ago.  Now, a decade later that day trumps most of the occasions that seemed calendar-worthy then. I look back at that me and still cherish the five minutes of sheer courage it took to just...begin.  Why I so resisted just admitting that my own results were abysmal and that an expert was required still confounds me.  But, at least the next time I "got it" faster.  

After five years of maintaining my hundred pound weight loss and exercise habit, I had to face some facts: 1) I am not Elastigirl and 2) gravity definitely carries a grudge.  So, I started consulting plastic surgeons to literally pick up the decades of slack that no diet, workout, or trainer could erase.  And if I felt out of place at the gym, that was nothing compared to a surgical consult. God knows I had many reservations. But they just ended up being so much weaker than the disgust at my own reflection or the salt-stung view of lacy gifts from my husband that I knew I'd return. I wasn't looking for perfection.  I was looking for normal...the me I would have been had I not spent thirty five years trying to feed my soul from the outside in.  It was the third surgeon who made me a believer, tackling my physical fears and the ghosts of the stranded girl I once was.  But, it was also this amazing doctor who flat out told me that my insurance would never cover a cent of  the expense-- because (of all reasons) now I was too fit. The same insurance that would cover post gastric bypass excisions, reconstruction or revision of a scar, would have me wear my old self for the rest of time. 

And, I would have, would have swallowed that crap and blamed myself too, except that my family simply refused. It's true that nobody can change your diet for you and nobody can workout for you either.  But, having people who stand up for you (Really stand up for you, like sell-the-car-that's-their-pride-&-joy-write-you-a-check stand up for you)  when all practicality and reason tells you to relent-- is a sacred thing and all too scarce for a world so full of scales and mirrors.

Overthrowing the Scale God

If you think I am going to cower in a corner and feel bad about a number I don't like, think again you blip of injury and economy.   I sent that girl packing ten years ago.  I did it with the truth that puts a mythic creature like you in its place. 

And the truth is: I will train harder, and I will eat smarter, and I will probably sleep less-- but I will not feel bad about how the math works.  The math is on my side now.

Hooray--I am Complicated

Not long ago, I woke up with pins and needles running down my left leg. I expected it to go away. But it didn't. It got worse. My left foot was throbbing and every step added to the pain. I had no idea why. In fact, although I often have some joint pain and my hip flexors are always too tight, I had been feeling really good up until this point. So good that Greg has been suggesting that I run the Broad Street this year. I have not said no. Although, ten miles seems... well I guess it seems like one mile used to.

At the beginning of my next session Greg asks how I am. I tell him something is really wrong. I describe all the symptoms and the strange fact that the problem is relieved somewhat when I where shoes with heels. For the first 20 minutes Greg stretches my hips and calves and back. Its not like a massage...I have to concentrate to keep from clenching. There is a spot halfway down my spine that is so tender I involuntarily recoil off the table. When we move on to the day's "workout" every exercise is precisely chosen to address today's ailments. Afterwards, I am setting up my next appointment, I can tell something is better. I wonder if my pain and numbness will recur as soon as I sit or sleep; but it doesn't. I am not completely "fixed" but I am so much better.

A few days later I ask Greg,
"What happened? What do you think is wrong with me? "

He won't say and reminds me that he is not a doctor. I know this. I also know I have surrendered myself to doctors who know much less. But, he concludes...'

"You are complicated Tricia. There is more than one thing going on here."

Complicated doesn't play well in infomercials or on magazine covers. Maybe that's why my going to those venues never really worked. Because portraying a simple answer may get people motivated, it may make the developers rich, but acting like the answer is simple doesn't make it simple. Maybe all along, I wasn't weak, or lazy, or a miserable failure...maybe everything I tried was.

The Burning Building

During an interview (about losing weight and getting in shape) a reporter asked me "How proud are you of what you have accomplished?" I answered, "I'm not proud. I am happy about it. I am grateful. And I do defend my time in the gym -vehemently. But, I was in a burning building and someone hauled me out. It was a prison break."

I am not just being modest. I am not too humble to see that I worked at it. Maybe if you have never been there you would think staying as I was, was effortless. It isn't. It is like shoveling snow in a blizzard, using all the wit and strength you have and getting nowhere, losing ground mostly.

Have you ever watched a baby learn to walk? They fall over and over. In a way, all of my failed attempts to lose weight were like that. But, in every corner of my mind, all the corners of my world all I heard was "Stop Falling." It's idiotic. Who learns this way? So, I'm not really "proud" that when someone pointed the way out, I listened, I did what I could to assist in my own escape. But without someone better and stronger and wiser than I was I would still be stuck there.

In fact, the truth is that even now I end up in the burning building some days. I have more experience now and usually I can put the fires out on my own. A good workout usually does the trick. But, not always. So, I do my best to always have an "emergency exit." When the heat and stress of life, work, relationships, illness, and injury erupt beyond my ability to manage, I spend less time lamenting my flaws and more time calling in reinforcements. Do I feel the sting of other people's opinions and judgements of the money, ego, time and resources this costs me? Yes, I feel it. I hear the voice in my head that says "when are you going to be able to handle a crisis on your own, like other people?" This is how I handle it. I don't stand there wishing there wasn't a fire. I get the fire out. That's my reward. I don't care who gets the credit.

No Afters

In the beginning our goal would be just to walk a mile without pain in her legs--when she was injured." Greg Hoak to NBC10's Jade McCarthy Jan. 2009



We were at least two years beyond that goal and talking about running a ten miler that day. And, maybe I never truly believed, until now, my own assertion that "there are no afters. " I know I detest being back at the beginning. How did I end up here--with shooting pain in what used to be "the good hip" and the grinding right knee, and a cruel and constant ache in both ankles? I meant something all together different when I said "This is about forever." That was the good Forever--the mantra you cling to. Forever is an unbearable idea on a day when the warm up leaves you in a cold sweat: the sum of regret + worry.


What can I possibly work toward today? Every step on the treadmill is a painful study of my connective tissue as the heat in the socket of my left hip flares up and down. I turn the music up, the incline, silence the fan that is annoying me; but none of my alterations gets me beyond the overbearing drill in my mind:" step forward, step forward, step forward." Despite six years of change and ambition (and no matter how much I wish it weren't true) I know that I am lame-- in every sense-- no matter how much I try not to be.


The realization stings more than the injury and the expression that comes with it begs the question: "How is your leg?"
"It hurts."
"I know, " Greg replies, "I can hear you limping."


And then I know--I know why I'm here. Because no one else I know HEARS this--even I don't HEAR it. And, I feel a smile all at once try to raise the corner of my mouth and my spirit. Because maybe, just maybe someone-- who in 15 seconds HEARS this, this antithesis to everything that is fluid and productive, maybe that means he also HEARS a way to UNDO it. And the chance of that is enough, just enough, to make me unwilling to cave in here today. Somehow I refuse to accept pity for progress, like my past life of late night binges once trained me to do.

"Can't walk today? Crawl then, it worked when you were one-- still works. So, it's inch worms and bear crawls today. Then you'll walk , then you'll run. Then you'll...who knows what's next? But, let's just say it'll be something better than --sympathy."

It sounds like Greg, but it isn't It's... ME

Somehow that mindset seeps into your brain if you let it...
"Are you ready to quit?"

"NO."

"Then, you must be ready to start."

And, then I find it--"Yes."

A Game of Mercy

So here I am 6:04am; even the prospect of this morning's cardio divides my mind. Shannon is down the hall with "the cousins" and I debate leaving these two young ones--even though they won't wake up; even though my sister is just steps away; like the devil is always whispering how remiss I am under his breath. But, they are so sound asleep; so safe here together; so likely to understand that my iPod , Nikes, and I will be back long before Spongebob is over. Rheumatology sets term limits in this campaign; even so I am probably sealing the deal for my eventual hip replacement. I can't help it though. I need this workout. Because 6 am at the beach, with the tide underscoring my playlist, is a day too sacred not to unleash your soul.

For once I am glad that Josh's "Show me what you've got" is just a memory today. What I've got on the outside is so paltry compared to the inside. Still, I endeavor to apply my training. There is a negotiation that never stops in my head. A tug of war between what I want to do and what I should do. There are days I trade my adrenaline futures like Wall Street commodities. But, I give conservative a shot today.. I walk for a long time, all the way to the lighthouse coaxing my joints like reluctant children as if to say, "Please come with me--it'll be so much fun..." They are full of spite, though not without provocation. They remind me of all the times I beat them up back when I had the upper hand. They enjoy a game of "mercy" at my expense. You see, deep down they know, and force me to admit, that there is still a trace of poison in the miracle I am living. A thing that says "a walk is not enough, there are 70 year olds flying by me with their cocker spaniels. And, here I am pushing through this ridiculous swollen ankle and ever tightening hamstrings, and the ache in the good leg. You pathetic girl...you are still the same glutton for punishment you ever were..."

And I almost fall into this pit AGAIN but an angel comes and sits on my shoulder and says "Today we will climb out of this cesspool and leave a ladder behind for anyone who comes after us." Instantly I'm done with pity. I run the 54 stairs up to the lovely room at the Inn and check on my sleepyheads who are still crashed on the king size bed. I grab my coffee , a notebook and pen and climb high into the lifeguard chair hours before they will need to take this post. Each in our own way searching for drowning victims. I write and write and write; lighting a candle in my cathedral.

For Me, Deja Vu is a Bad Thing

Ok, March was a bad month, so I didn't panic when the scale inched up a little. But, now it's mid-May. The inching isn't a solo gig anymore. The inching has backup now: a discordant band of dread and craven echoes all around. I feel myself holding a shallow breath for much of the day. I tense as I drive past DQ ...the drive up menus run like movie trailers in my mind. I don't enter. But find myself instinctively counting the cash in my purse anyway.

She is with me--within me...the girl from 6 yrs 9 months ago. Tuning her out is wearing me down. She won't shut up. My workouts are barely enough to drown out this siege.
I freeze and pray she goes away. A pathetic strategy...standing still in a minefield.

Got to get the map or medivac to Find Yes.

THE WHY & HOW OF IT

The shift from No to Yes really started on Feb 1st, 2007. I remember exactly because I had to have an in-home session. Our refrigerator died and I had one of those irritating delivery windows that keep you chained to your house. During the workout, I said "I have been working out faithfully. I could stay on the elliptical for 2 hours if I had time. But why can't I run half a mile without stopping?"

"You're running too fast" came the reply.

Now, there are many flaws in my running, but you have to believe that "too fast" was one I had never suspected! "That can't be right" I thought (and probably said too). I am pathetically slow. Shouldn't I be able to run a lot faster than I walk? (Granted, from the MRIs and XRays I really wasn't supposed to be running at all). But sometimes a good song comes on and I just want to. And, I wasn't stopping from joint pain or muscle pain--at least not yet. Every time I ran for more than a minute or two I was gasping for air even though I was working out every day.

Why? Well, there was a really good technical answer that Greg gave me about the physics of running vs walking or pedaling. And, I wish I could explain it all. But, it wouldn't change the advice he gave me:

"Run as slow as you can and still be jogging."

As soon as I tried this it worked. I ran a mile. It was barely faster than I could walk a mile and I was drenched. But on that one piece of advice I went from NO I can't run a mile to YES I can. And no amount of conventional wisdom could hold a candle to that. But, I still worried about that grinding in my knee (a patellar tracking problem), my nine Advil-a-day days and all those specialists and their restrictions. You can't just ignore these things.

In fact, we did the opposite. My all but forsaken quads were now the major focus of every week. The idea being that the only way to take the pressure off my knees was to build up my quads and hamstrings. (You have to remember that for at least 18 months I had stopped all this and nothing about my condition had improved. ) In order to do this without pain or injury, all the usual exercises like lunges and squats had to be altered just for me.

It worked. I was probably running 2 miles straight when he sprung it on me.

"You should run the fall 5k."

I seriously thought at first that someone had walked into the room when I wasn't looking. But, no, this suggestion was in fact, meant for me. A stream of objections rushed through my mind:

NO...
I am not competitive;
I don't think my joints can handle the pavement;
Where will I put my water bottle;
I will be the last one if I finish at all,
There will be other people...right?

The loud negative chorus in my head halted on one thought alone... whatever I believe about myself, if I sign up for this Greg will get me to do it...my inner demons are struck dumb by this (temporarily).

I agree with a simple "Ok." I have roughly five months to train-- or at least that's what we thought.

By mid-summer I am running three miles a few times a week at the gym. But outdoors it is another story all together. The changing terrain and the elements (temperature, wind, humidity) are all new challenges for me. On the treadmill, I just dialed in the pace, now I have to pace myself. John buys me the Nike plus for my iPod to help me keep track. But, I do best during my session when Greg runs outside with me. Running is intense, but has an amazing side effect...it is suppressing my appetite. Another...if only I had known... that training has uncovered.

In July we leave for North Carolina where 17 members of my family have rented an enormous oceanfront house. I decide this is the perfect time to work on running outside: no traffic, no hard surfaces, no real schedule to contend with, just miles and miles of beautiful beach and cool mist off the Atlantic. I never think to mention this to Greg. Big Mistake.

For the first couple days in NC, the plan is working perfectly. I am up first and back before my kids are out of their pajamas. But, on day 3 or 4 I am so focused on the horizon I miss the halfway mark--by a lot. The rows and rows of mansions peaking out over the dunes all look the same. I have to run up to the street to figure out where I am. I come home that way. Each step gets slower and heavier. I have nothing left when I get to the house. My iPod says the distance is 6.18 miles. My legs are jiggly and throughout the day my right thigh sets a signal fire to prove to me how much I overdid it. The next day I am not surprised that I am too sore to workout. But, later in the day we try to go for a leisurely bike ride. I can't manage a pedalling motion. This is the first time it occurs to me that something is really wrong.

I am trying to assess myself. There is a twisting pain at the top of my right leg that travels diagonally toward that knee. No amount of Advil will touch it. I wonder if I have tendonitis. Greg calls John later that day, forgetting momentarily that we are away. I describe my predicament hoping for an answer and recommendations. Instead I get:

"I really wish you would have told me this (the beach running plan) before you went." He points out how uneven even the wave-packed sand is, creating a million invisible inclines and declines for your body to adjust to all at once. He tells me not to run. But it is a moot point. I am barely ambulatory.

When we return home I go to the doctor. They order Xrays which reveal nothing. There are a lot of theories from arthritis to labral tear to sciatica. I am frustrated beyond my capacity to adapt. Greg wisely puts me in front of a punching bag and has me striving to do real "guy" pullups. There is an unspoken plea for him to bring all the kings horses and all the kings men to work with him every day. Months of referrals and insurance battles ensue. It is September before we can get approval for an MRI of my right leg. When the films come back my doctor does not know what to make of them. She sends me to the best specialist in the area. It takes him 30 seconds to tell me that my right leg has been fractured for the past 10 weeks. Even though my pain has subsided a lot he says in no uncertain terms that the Oct. race is out.

Now, this goal which started out as just short of preposterous, has become epic in my eyes. All of that work. I was so close. I am stung by the cruelty of not believing than believing and being robbed of this now. I cannot even watch the race or volunteer for the worthy charity it represents. I am sure my running "career "is over for good. A ghost within maliciously drives home the point that my years of gluttony and sloth are surely to blame. A rational voice interrupts this assault:

"There is always a 5K somewhere, Tricia."

And the training resumes. In February, the same specialist who diagnosed me clears me to run again. I build up to the distances faster than the first time around. When the May race comes I enter despite my doubts because:
Am I healed...Yes
Can I run 3.2 miles...Yes
outside...Yes
without a water bottle...Yes
Well...let's go then.