Day 279: There is No Tri... Only Do!

A gentle recurring click from the front wheel of my racing bicycle complemented the almost-silent thud of my snack bag as it swayed with my hurried gait. A brisk breeze caught me off guard as it swooped through an alley and swirled around my head... it was 6:30 in the morning and colder then I expected.

Nervously, I glanced down at the heart rate monitor strapped around my left wrist. The clock mode showed I was running behind; way behind. I should have been there thirty minutes earlier. And why, again, did I think it was such a great idea to park in the Ninth Street parking deck? It was two-thirds of a mile from the start and transition area.

Oh, well... couldn't be helped now. I was walking down Atlantic Avenue flanked by several other people. Everywhere I looked, bikes were being wheeled toward the southern end of Atlantic Avenue. Runners jogged by and cyclists whizzed past, fitting in one final warm-up before heading to the starting line.

My thoughts raced wildly as I tried to fight last-minute "monkey brain" and focus on the task before me. I was number 172 in the 28th Annual Sandman Triathlon and, in less than thirty minutes, I would plunge into the Atlantic Ocean and officially begin my first triathlon. I could feel my stomach shrinking by the second as I got my first glimpse of the transition area - hundreds of bicycles and athletes crowded the enclosure.

A request for my racing number brought me to focus on the Sharpie-wielding woman in front of me. Within seconds my right hand, arm, and calf had been marked and two minutes later, I had found and begun to set up my transition area. There wasn't much time left and having set up my gear and collected my timing chip, I began to walk quickly down the boardwalk to the swim start.

The scratchy velcro strap containing the timing chip combined with that where-is-the-nearest-restroom internal feeling I get before any competitive event for increased tension. My watch showed I had five minutes to get to the start line and my body suggested now would be an excellent time to panic.

The sand was cold under my bare feet as I started down the beach, leaving the solid comfort of the boardwalk behind me. I felt lost in the throng of several hundred wetsuited bodies with various color swim caps as they milled behind the flag-designated start. I knew I was in the second wave, starting four minutes behind the first wave of lime green caps. It didn't take long to find the group of blue caps... my group.

Underfoot, the ground trembled slightly as thunderous waves crashed into the beach, a few feet from where we stood. Twenty-five yards off shore, the five-foot red buoy looked like a toy as the waves tossed it effortlessly. I could feel panic trying to settle in my chest as I watched the lifeguards bobbing, their heads looking like so many tiny balls in the roiling sea.

A horn sounded and the elite swimmers took off, racing into the sea with reckless speed. Within seconds, they began swimming and in those seconds, I seriously considered not even entering the ocean. As they swam straight toward the buoy with all their strength, the current effortlessly swept them up the beach and away from their target.

Murmurs of concern rippled through the blue caps as my group began to huddle as far right in the starting area as possible while a bull horn declared we should learn from the struggles of those in front of us. That four minutes seemed like an eternity... four minutes to regard the power of the waves and seriously reconsider what I was doing there on that shore.

Every instinct was screaming to stay away from the waves and yet, this is what I needed to do. I had techniques and presence of mind to deal with passing the breakers, I had the strength and capability to swim well, yet all this vanished at the same speed with which the ground disappeared beneath my feet. This wasn't a race, this was survival. Lifeguards would be useless... they were only human after all. I was on my own. In the sea. Sink or swim.

Prayer is a wonderful thing, even in its most simplistic form. I kept hearing my voice at various points: "Oh, God! Help me do this! Oh, God!" I have never been so disoriented or panicky in the water before, yet somehow, in the middle of swells so large the horizon and enormous buoys were hidden, I began to swim. Fifteen minutes had elapsed since entering the ocean and I realized, swimming against the current and with the growing waves, I would not be able to complete the 1000 meters in the 45-minute limit.

I could quit now. Through my head rang a comment someone had thrown out... at least I wouldn't have to worry about how I would do in the biking and running legs. Every emotion REALLY wanted me to quit and get out of the water, but I fought the rising insurrection within... again. I knew what my stroke should feel like and had gone about 200 meters when lots of screaming and whistles and bull horns sounded all around.

The swim had been canceled because the race directors were afraid they would lose swimmers if the event continued. It took effort to get out of the water as the crashing waves were now propelling me into the shore, but I was happy to exit though disappointed the swim had been canceled.

Along the beach we trotted, not quite sure what would happen next. A quiet beep let me know my time for the "swim" had been noted and volunteers hasted us toward the transition arena with instructions to continue the triathlon as if we'd finished the swim.

Passing the entrance, I noticed the faces I'd been looking for all along... Jason and the boys smiling and cheering for mommy. There were more family and friend faces, too and I felt re-inspired as I scrambled over the cobble ground toward my bike. A splash of water to get the sand off and my wet feet, now encased in socks and sneakers, were ready to go. My bright blue jersey floated over my head and I grabbed my helmet and sunglasses.

Not forgetting to grab a drink and some nutrition, I fastened the buckle of the helmet and slowly jogged my bike out of the transition area. A beep sounded as my anklet passed over the timing mat and the sound of spectators urging the bikers on drove home the reality of what I was doing. I was starting my second leg of the triathlon! This was really happening!

Jason and the boys, along with other family and friends, stood by the exit and exhorted me to keep going. With that encouragement, I stepped onto the bike and set out on the 14.5-mile route. This first tenth of a mile was easy; lots of cheering and yelling. Plenty going on. I had a good pace and though I was disturbed by how many bikers were passing me, I knew what pace I had to keep in order to make it to the end.

At just under three miles, it wasn't fun any more. Very few spectators and very little encouragement was to be found. Additionally, this is when we turned out of Atlantic and on to Shore Drive. The race was on and it was now time to reach inside to find the drive to finish.

Biking is boring and painful, though not as boring and painful as running. It's just slow and somewhat depressing to see how long it takes to cover a certain stretch. I tried not to think about how many miles remained, but just about passing as many people as I could without exhausting myself in the first half.

Miles passed and before I knew it, I was turning around and beginning the return trip to the transition area. I was more than half-way there. My triathlon was half completed! This thought alone spurred me on and I pressed in to maintain a higher rate of speed than the first half. Many people whizzed past but there were others whom I left in the dust, much to my secret delight.

The last mile was the hardest, but I was mentally prepared for it. I knew from past workouts I would be tempted to rest and take breaks since I was "so close" and "almost done." This had to be pushed past and, though it was hard, I kept reminding myself I was almost done and to finish strong.

So it was as I flew around the corner for that final turn leading back into the transition area pen. Jumping off the bike before striding across the timing mat, I heard that little beep for the third time that morning. Grabbing a drink of water and remembering to remove the helmet, I walked on jelly legs to the start of the final leg of the Sandman Triathlon.

Right there to encourage me on were those beloved faces, joined this time by my dad and a couple brothers. That was all it took to break my weary shuffle into a jog. I wanted so desperately to run the entire 5k, but one minute of running convinced me that wouldn't be happening today; something inside hurt... I had been in a car accident Friday night and imagined this was fallout from that. I just needed to finish and that needed to be the primary goal... even if it meant walking the whole way.

That 5k was the true test of the entire triathlon. I'd wanted to quit four or five times during the swim. Biking was okay; not much temptation to quit there, just to slow down. This, however, was more tempting than the other two events. My legs simply did not want to take another step and especially not at the little-over-4-mph pace I was hitting.

Twenty-fourth Street seemed SO far away (I'd started at Second Street) and runners kept passing me. Worse still, people I'd passed on the biking portion were passing me in the run. Ouch! Even worse than that, people who seemed to be in my physical condition and from my number group were passing me. What?! I did try running again, but this time the internal responses were very strong and caused me to stick to the "just finish" goal.

Then the turnaround was right there. Then I was walking around it. All that separated me from that finish line and the completion of my first triathlon was a mile and a half. I was so excited and yet, still couldn't go any faster. I wanted to sit. I wanted to rest. I wanted to walk slower. But I couldn't. People were waiting for me at the finish and even more scary, fewer and fewer people were passing me. That could only mean I was getting really far back in the pack. I did not want to be last.

A quarter of a mile to go and my brother, Sam, appeared out of nowhere. "Run the rest of the way!" I shook my head. "I can't." "Run the rest of the way," he insisted. "I'll run with you." And somewhere, something deep inside lit on fire. I started running.

It hurt. I was out of breath. But I had to finish strong. A tenth of a mile away and I fell into a walk. "I can't do any more." "You're almost there!" Then I saw Jason. He had Peter on his shoulders and was also running along the side path. It had to be done. A strong finish was absolutely necessary. I've finished races before and still had something to give, which meant I had regrets about my performance later... I wasn't going to have that this time.

All I could think of as I heard my feet hitting the pavement and my breathing pattern going in-in, out-out was that verse from Isaiah 40... "Hast thou not known? hast thou not heard... He giveth power to the faint; and to them that have no might he increaseth strength... But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint."

And in that moment, I had the strength to finish... head up, arms up, and running strong, one final tiny beep of the day sealed my first triathlon.

I had finished!


Afternote: My official finish time was 2:10:00.20 - this was 20 minutes faster than I thought I would finish. I placed 19th out of 23 in my group. If you want to see the last 25 seconds of my race, check this link... if you look to the left on the video, you can also see Jason (with Peter on his shoulders) racing through the crowds. :) Another interesting link shows how strong the water was BEFORE the race started... it got much worse 10 minutes after the start.

Day 270: Burning

As those of you who know me can attest, I frequently set wildly high expectations for myself and when they fail to be met, I crumble into an abject "I failed" mindset... never mind that I encourage others to keep going regardless of their "failures."

Humans are funny.

The day I joined Tidewater Bariatrics, I sat down and figured out just how fast I could lose my excess weight. I figured I had 150 pounds to lose and made calculations for varying levels of weekly weight loss. They said the average per-week loss for a woman was two to four pounds; I figured if I could lose 3.5 pounds per week, I'd meet my goal weight of 150 by 21 April 2011 (42 weeks).

That wasn't fast enough for my liking and, as I sipped on a final glass of Outback Steakhouse Mango Tea, decided to look at a likely-unattainable goal of six pounds per week. That was better and would have me at my goal weight by 23 December 2010. I'd seen people on the Biggest Loser get rid of double digits in one week because of high levels of physical activity. I'd just have to work out more.

The first four weeks proved to match and exceed my hoped-for dream of six pounds per week. Then reality began to hit. Week Five was four pounds, Week Six was five, and Week Seven was a devastating two-pound loss. (NOTE: Two pounds is a wonderful loss... it was just devastating to my six-pound-per-week plan) It was during this seventh week that I achieved an all-time low with eating coupled with an all-time high for exercise - 7,066 calories in (which created an 18,480-calorie BMR deficit, plus 15,090 calories burned working out.

Based on pure mathematical calculations, I should have lost 7.5 pounds that week... but I didn't; I lost two.

Through the Biggest Loser and countless other articles and books I'd read on dieting, I remembered a situation dieters frequently get themselves into. Something called "starvation mode." I also knew every time a contestant on the Biggest Loser would absolutely kill themselves during the week and come up short on the scale, they were counseled to eat more food! When they did, the scale would drop massively the next week.

In my head, this would never happen to me. I wasn't eating too little... at fewer than 1000 calories per day, I wasn't hungry - ever. I wasn't over training... I was paying attention to what my body was saying. Everything was proceeding according to plan and following the mathematical calculations I'd worked out.

Then I noticed something else... I didn't want to eat anymore; nothing. I literally had to force myself to eat whatever was left of my daily minimum food prescription at the end of the day. At the end of Week Seven, I was exhausted and tired all the time. I would take a three-hour nap with the boys and still not have enough energy to get through the day - I wasn't interested in doing anything nor did I want to do anything. My workouts suffered as well; I just didn't have the desire or energy to put in a lot of effort.

Looking for answers, I started researching what happens to your body when you burn WAY more than you take in.

[Note on 8/30/11: Just realized this post had never been activated. It is not complete, but I have published that part which was finished... my apologies for the lack of an ending]

Day 254: Evil-less Love

"She will do him good and not evil all the days of her life." Proverbs 31:12

"I do not think it means what you think it means."

The original picture I wanted to use for this post I felt might be too disturbing for some readers (not that this is any better), but the message it carried is important nonetheless. It was a simple picture of two skeletons facing each other, locked in a timeless embrace... forever. I think I shall always equate this mental image with that of doing good to my husband for all the days of my life... a thought laden with responsibility and yet guilded with inner joy.

So... why the "demotivational" poster above?

It is hilarious. More so when I realized that over the many years, every time I've read this verse, I've always thought of evil as being the act of doing bad things to your husband. You know, purposefully malevolent acts. Suddenly I discovered; that word does not mean what I thought it meant.

Starting at the beginning, the Hebrew word describing the "good" this woman does to her husband all the days of his life is "towb." This describes good in the broadest, most general sense. All kinds of good; just good in general. Nice stuff.

The word "ra', " or "evil," however, is not the evil I was thinking of. This word - translated as "evil" in the King James Version - has a whole spectrum of meaning. Not only does it have the expected value of bad and natural or moral evil, but "ra' " also refers to a worse or worst, wretchedness, or wrong.

It was the wretchedness of the definition that got me thinking.

I find it so easy to lump my behaviors, especially where my husband is concerned, into this innocuous package which may not have all the expected virtues, but at least I'm not like "that" or I would never consider behaving like "that."

It was upon intropection that I realized the ugly truth. Many of my poor attitudes toward my love monkey, while they do not fall into the moral evil or general badness, do sit smack in the center of wretchedness or wrong. A wretch is a miserable, unhappy, or unfortunate person, thus to be in a state of wretchedness is to be miserable, unhappy, or unfortunate.

I don't believe I have ever really dealt with the true meaning of this verse. I've always kind of skipped over it, patted my brain on the cerebrum and stated for the mental record that I don't have a problem in that area. Yet, how often has a disrespectful response or reluctant behavior, a careless word or a heartless response brought a state of misery to my husband?

This ought not to be. And yet, the woman this man was tasked in finding was one who would do him good - in the complete and generic sense of the word - and not evil - to include inducement of a state of misery or unhappiness - all the days of her life. Not a weekend act, but a lifetime commitment.

I know I will never view this verse the same and I hope the same for each of you. It doesn't matter if you're married or not, these principles still apply. After all, you never know who's looking, now. Do you?

My intention is to shoot higher on the happy meter for my awesome love monkey; he really does deserve a wife who will do him all manner of good and who will refrain from causing grief and misery for as long as she lives.


Definitions and lexicon references taken from scripturetext.com and thefreedictionary.com. Photo courtesy of motifake.com

Day 249: Buttering Up

"How many sticks of butter have you lost?"

This was the question that greeted me this afternoon on my Facebook page (and that picture IS of fifty pounds of butter). The basic starting premise is that 0.2 pounds of body weight lost is equivalent to getting rid of a stick of butter. That idea seemed interesting... a stick of butter didn't seem that much, until I started adding it all up!

In the past six weeks, I've lost 37 pounds. Going on the idea that 0.2 pounds lost equals one stick of butter, this would mean that every 0.8 pounds lost would be a pound - that's one package as seen in a supermarket near you. I usually go to CostCo which would mean every 3.2 pounds I lose would equate to the four-pound bundle I would frequently purchase (I think I was buying one a month).

End result. I have lost 46.25 pounds of butter. That would be 46 normal packages of butter (plus one stick) or, for the CostCo and Sam's enthusiasts, 11.5 of their four-pound bundles! Yuck! I have this vision of a shopping cart FILLED with butter packs. Look at the top of the page... that's 50 pounds... I'm almost there! Don't get me wrong, I do like butter... but that much is just sick!

Visualization is such a powerful tool when dealing with all sorts of life situations... in particular, what you are putting into your body when you eat. The method of using pictures and comparisons to drill the message home is becoming more and more popular in the weight-loss community as dietitians and doctors use more and more hands-on, in-your-face, blunt comparisons.

Sometimes it comes in book form with lots of pictures showing better choices (Eat This; Not That), sometimes it is the placing of a 25-pound weight on your lap (graphically showing how much weight you've lost), sometimes it is by comparison (that Dairy Queen Caramel MooLatte has the sugar equivalent of twelve Dunkin' Donuts Bavarian Creme Doughnuts).

I know I, for one, never really thought about (or cared) what equivalents I might be eating and I have found visual comparison to be extremely powerful.

Although what I call negative comparison (i.e., this bad food is equivalent to this bad food) is entertaining and has a certain element of shock value, I think I more prefer to go the route of positive comparisons. With these negative comparisons, I find that even if I haven't had the slightest thought of drinking a Starbucks Caramel Frappuccino (not true), seeing a picture of it standing in frosty resplendence next to a glistening stack of its sugar equivalent in freshly-baked Krispy Kreme Original Glazed Doughnuts would not cause me to avoid either of these tasty treats. In fact, my response is quite the opposite: I want to drink the frappuccino (just the tall size...) and THEN go get those tantalizing equivalents (only one or two... I mean, it's not like I'm going to eat the whole box... today...).

What works so much better for me is seeing and understanding what I CAN have. I would rather see the tiny little sugar-free, fat-free, nine-ounce, 720-calorie muffin standing starkly to the left side of an equal sign and see on the right side a 720-calorie spread consisting of a pineapple, half a cantaloupe, half a kiwi fruit, half a papaya, five ounces of grapes, two pears, and two whole wheat rolls! The focus with this description is changing what you choose and getting more for that choice; a swap for the better. So much more powerful than the taunting pictorial comparisons of yummy evil.

Even better is this thought for the day: it is far better to focus on what can be then what cannot be. I have found that to choose to think about - with respect to dieting - what I CAN eat and the creativity which I must bring to bear within those dietary parameters. In day-to-day living, thinking about what I DO have - beautiful family, loving and supportive husband, air condition, running water - instead of things I wish I had makes for such greater contentment and peace within me.

Contentment has been one of my life's greatest challenges and it required God to do some truly out-of-the-box maneuvers to get me to the level of contentment I am today (which is WAAAY more then I ever was). I am no where near perfect, but simple reminders keep me thinking about what I DO have and not on what I WISH I had. Big difference.

Count those blessings! I know I feel better for doing that... positive is in and it's great!

Photos courtesy of cleanliv.in, rawfoodlivingdiet.com, and pictureperfectweightloss.com

Day 246: Spoiler Alert

"The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her, so that he shall have no need of spoil."
Proverbs 31:11

This is the second article of a twenty-one article series and, as current events would flow, this topic was heavily overshadowed by the events of the day - of course! After the initial hubbub of the morning settled, I started to think about what this verse meant to me... that is when I realized it doesn't mean what I thought it meant.

My initial take on this verse has always been that the dude is so comfortable and trusting of his wife's handling of household and life issues, that he never has to worry about running out of money or basic necessities. In short, his life would never go to waste, or spoil. Though the grammar of the second half of the sentence always bothered me (shall have no need of spoil), I just chalked it up to ye olde English.

I was quite surprised to discover the meaning of this verse doesn't mean that at all!

In the New American Standard, it reads, "And he will have no lack of gain." All the other versions (English) I consulted spoke to the same translation; because of this man's amazing extent of trust and confidence in his woman, he would always have lots of stuff (material possessions, I'm guessing) coming in. The sentence was old English, but I missed the meaning completely! "No need of" means "unlimited supply." Quite a difference.

Of course, this bit of introspection leads me to speculate... if I become more like the woman portrayed in this Proverb, will Jason become more prosperous? I have to wonder. Actually, I would think that this would, in fact, be the case. If he had a supportive wife with whom he could confide his plans and goals, would that loving support lend itself to an increased level of self-esteem and can-do-idness? I shall have to ponder this for application to my own life. Yes.

In Hebrew, the word "leb" refers to the heart of the husband. It not only can refer to the emotions, but also the will and the intellect. This guy is putting everything on the line with this woman... and how many guys do that unless they feel really secure about the solidness of their relationship with and character of their wife?

This is further pointed out in the "doth safely trust" section by the use of the word "batach," which the lexicon translates as "hie (to rush or move fast) to refuge." Not only does this man rush to trust, but he is also bold and carefree in his confidence and hopes as he shares everything with his wife. Wow. That is some serious responsibility on the part of the woman, yes?

And what is it that this man need never experience? The Hebrew word is "chacer," meaning "to lack" and the implication of this word deals with failure, want, a lessening of the current standard. It can also mean bereavement or decrease, even abatement and want.

The most straight-forward word is the one dealing with spoils; "shalal" literally means "booty - prey or spoil." So the spoil I was thinking of - the one dealing with ruin - is not at all the one in the original language... far from it. This kind of spoil is the type one would associate with plundering and pirates; riches and wealth as a reward of some valiant effort by the man.

So put the together the two words - "chacer" and "shalal" - and what we have is a man who will not decrease or abate in the amount of booty coming in. No lessening or failing in the flow of items to enhance life. No want and no taking away of that spoil. This is a picture of a prosperous man.

Granted, times were a bit different then and taking the wealth and riches of those you conquered was a normal and valiant thing to do; it was a status symbol and spoke volumes of your battle prowess - very manly. Even though this would most likely be frowned upon today, think of some potential parallels. A guy who collects his nerve to request his boss to give him the raise for which he is overdue (and he gets it). The men who work hard every day to collect their "spoil" (we know it as paychecks and bonuses). Even very small things, such as a man insisting the matre'd remove the cost of an unsatisfactory meal from the ticket, are a form of battle.

Where there is a battle, there is a victor. How much more can we give to our husbands (those still waiting, to your dads and brothers) in the form of support and confidence. Every man needs a fair maiden to fight for and every man has a deep-rooted desire to be someone's champion and the object of respect.

I know I, for one, have been very inspired by what I learned in this verse today and, ashamedly, I can see just how very far I have fallen... and wouldn't you know, today would be the day when I wasn't the woman in whom my husband's heart could safely rest. Oh, to be perfect... but then, I wouldn't be sharing any of this with you, would I?

Photo courtesy of www.sodahead.com.

Day 242: Wind Breakers

"Compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses... let us run with patience the race that is set before us."
Hebrews 12:1

I finally did something I've never been able to do before; nor did I think I would ever be able to do it.

I ran for five solid minutes!

Now for those of you amazing athletes out there, I realize this is such a piddly accomplishment. Even for those of you who are of a medium fitness level, this really doesn't seem that amazing. Some may even chuckle in their minds and think I'm shooting low... but put the whole picture into perspective and that five minutes will become an outstanding achievement.

One-and-a-half months ago, running was so far out of my mind and physical capability, I wouldn't have been able to run for fifteen seconds, let alone five minutes! I was morbidly obese with a BMI of 45.8 and had so much "flappage" that running was physically painful and not something I would ever consider.

I think once I had to run with the stroller, having been caught in a torrential and very sudden downpour. I could only run for less than half a minute and less than a tenth of a mile. I didn't have what I needed to run my children the fifth of a mile to our house and to dryness and safety. I had to walk; the incredibly brief run had left me completely winded and embarrassed at how much "flappage" I had.

The past month (and one-half), I have been training seriously to compete in the Sandman Triathlon in Virginia Beach (19 September). Part of this training and the triathlon require that I complete a 5k in a maximum time of one hour. I knew I would need to run at least part of the 5k in order to avoid a "Did Not Complete" tag on my performance... this meant I would need to train.

I've been slowly building up each week and was horrified to find this week dictated I run for nine minutes out of thirty. I had barely completed six out of thirty last week, how was I going to do this this week?!

Jason decided to accompany me on my hour-long, postprandial walk with the boys and, somewhere along the way, further decided he was going to push me to a new level. I felt nothing but dread when I heard him declare we would run for at least two four-minute blocks. I told him I couldn't do it. I'd never run for more than two consecutive minutes.

But Jason thought I could and first coached me through a three-minute run - pushing the little boys in the stroller and counting aloud as he ran beside me. After a recovery walk, I knew it was now or never. I began running. As I reached a minute, I could feel my breath coming a little heavier. At a minute and a half, my legs were begging me to stop; my breath, though measured, was heavy. I wanted to quit... but I kept moving forward, trying to think about anything other than running.

At about two minutes, something amazing happened.

My breathing, still deep, became rhythmic and all my muscles relaxed as I fell into a regular pace. I felt as if I could keep running for hours. No more feelings of fatigue, no more desire to quit, no more beleaguered breathing. Could it be I was experiencing that "second wind" I'd heard and read about people attaining? It certainly seemed like it.

I was elated.

You see, a second wind is something I've wanted badly to experience, but never wanted to push myself far enough to experience it. Normally, I would quit before my body had a chance to fall into a rhythm, thus allowing me to perform at a higher level.

The medical world is still not sure exactly what happens during what has been termed a "second wind." It is not something that can be easily reproduced in a laboratory setting; thereby proving it hard to test the mechanisms at work during this event.

Some think it is what happens when your body begins to take in enough oxygen to combat the effects of lactic acid buildup in your muscles. Others hypothesize a second wind occurs when there is an premature "runner's high" with the early release of endorphins; the happy hormones which create that feeling of euphoria and well-being. A third belief is that it's completely psychological... just encouraging someone in their exercise can bring on a second wind.

Regardless of the actual reason for this phenomenon, it happens... and it happens in areas outside the world of physical exertion.

How many times in my life have I given up when things started getting harder? How many times have I focused on the pain and the discomfort, only to miss out on the good times and blessings ahead? Obviously, I can never know the answer to these questions. What I do know is this: the times I have persevered and pushed through and overcome, no matter what the difficulty, regardless of the pain, and ignoring intense discomfort, I have seen God move in such mighty and un-hitherto-foreseen ways and I have seen amazing things happen in my life.

I know this lesson of the second wind applies to each and every human in this world; for if there were no challenges, how would anyone grow? I believe depth of character comes from pushing beyond that point which you believe you cannot pass, just as physical performance and growth increase from stretching your physical limits. Mountains have a peak, but to get to the peak, there is a lot of uphill battling... some are small, some are seemingly insurmountable; they all have a peak.

I hope this encourages you to find your second wind, no matter what challenge you are facing. With God, all things ARE possible. If your mountain seems unusually steep and impossibly long, keep in mind that it, too, has a peak - you will get there if you do not quit or faint along the way.

Just remember that and remember that if I can help encourage you in any way, please get in touch with me; I love to encourage and I love success stories. I want you to be the next success story. I want to be the next success story myself.

Photo courtesy of: www.motivatedphotos.com/?id=46109

Day 239: Xena-esque Pearls

After reviewing the statistics for this blog (visitors, when visited, etc.), I realized I could post twice a week instead of only once. I think, also, instead of my usual fare, I'm going to post a series of a projected twenty-one articles over the next twenty-one Tuesdays. Fridays will still contain my weekly Project post; I'm running this as an experiment to see how it does.



"Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies." -Proverbs 31:10


It seems nearly every woman who has a blog or writing outreach at some point writes about the proverbial virtuous woman. Some posts are rote and predictable, others are a-flutter with Victorian lacy-ness and tea cups. I want to do something different.

I will confess. I have never been a fluffy girl and, while opulent luxury impresses and entices me, lace and quirked pinkies never have. Having grown up as the leader of a pack of six boys (and one girl), my interests and pursuits tended toward the intriguingly mysterious and the masculine... on occasion, too much so.

For years I scoffed at "girly" things and carried a thinly-veiled sneer in my heart toward most things feminine, including (flutter, flutter) virtuous womanhood. I never fit in with most girls, tended to avoid large groups of females, and couldn't stand (and yet was attracted to) the giddy gossip and fascination with everything from hair and makeup to listing ideal characteristics of the hypothetical Mr. Right.

Having a fairly conservative and respectable upbringing, it should be no surprise that from my youngest days, I was taught to be a godly young lady (not a bad thing at all). Sadly for me, I chose to subtly buck the system and harbor rebellion toward godly femininity; and it showed. So it should be no surprise to learn the one thing I really hated to hear about was the Proverbs 31 woman.

"Sissy" was the word which scornfully lingered in my mind whenever the topic arose. It wasn't until I was in my mid-twenties that I began to learn some hard and occasionally hurtful lessons all pointing to the fact that guys don't marry "one of the guys" and many men will rise above accepted minimums and treat a woman as a woman if she will let them. Not only that, but men LIKE women to act like women. ::shock::

Around this time, I re-examined Proverbs 31. In verse ten, the whole description starts off with that pressing question: Who can find a virtuous woman? But what exactly does that mean? Is that some princess in a tower, helplessly waiting to be rescued? Is that a forgotten woman stitching hundreds of napkins and tablecloths for her hope chest? Perhaps it is a powerful executive type who earns six figures each year?

Different translations shed a bit of light. Other versions refer to the virtuous woman as excellent, worthy, and valiant. I particularly like valiant; it has such a warrior-esque and triumphant ring to it. To be valiant, one must have valor; a quality of a hero (or heroine), courage or boldness as in battle, bravery, strength.

Then I realized. This namby-pamby, virtuous Proverbs 31 woman I had envisioned for so many years wasn't even close to what was being described here. Dude! The man to whom this letter was written was being advised to actively seek out a really strong woman. Whoa.

In the Hebrew, the word which means "who can find" (maw-tsaw') is not just talking about halfheartedly looking around, it means "to come forth" and "to attain." This is a very purposeful directive to find and acquire this strong woman.

The Hebrew word "chayil" (khah'-yil) is translated in the King James Version as "virtuous," yet the meaning of the original word is so much more powerful - though if you delve into the meaning of the word "virtuous," you will find the same gist. "Chayil" refers to a force. (ooOOoo) What kind of force? This word could be describing a force of "men, means, or resources; an army, wealth, virtue, valor, strength."

Yikes! We're not exactly seeing the description of a sissy. What's even more interesting, the dude was told to go out and find someone who exemplified those strong, powerful characteristics.

Now before you jump up from your desk and run out the door with a tribal Amazonian yell to extol the virtues of Xena: Warrior Princess or Sheena: Queen of the Nile, realize that the last word in the description is "woman."

How do we take such strong, forceful, powerful characteristics and package them as a female that is not "one of the guys"? Good question. I'm still asking that myself and will hopefully delve deep enough in this series of articles to answer those questions for you, but really, I'm hoping for answers for myself.

This blog is about the Ruth Cooper Project, and I do emphasize "project." I am on some sort of journey to find who I am (epic music begins to soar in the background); who did God make me to be? I am so blessed to have each of you as part of my life and as readers and participants in this Project. You are vital; make no mistake about that!

One other thing really struck me from this verse. This valorous woman is valued far above rubies, or so the King James says. Did you know the actual word in the Hebrew is "paniyn" (paw-neen')? This word translates as "pearl" but it also means "redness," thus, I would imagine, the translation into "ruby." That bothered me, because I've always thought of pearls as cream or pastel; so what's with the redness denoted in the translation?

Well. I researched and discovered that ancient pearl fisheries were mainly in what we know today as the Persian Gulf and the Red Sea. Living in these areas is a large, fairly delicate oyster known as "pinna" or "wing-shell" in Hebrew. Occasionally, this particular type of oyster produces a translucent pink pearl; something that was so rare its rarity caused it to be highly prized and therefore, extremely valuable.

Pearls, throughout history, have been regarded as symbols of purity, innocence, honesty, harmony, and wealth... even a symbol of Jesus Christ himself. There are no pearls in the precious stones forming the foundation of the heavenly Jerusalem, there are no pearls in the breastplate of the high priest... pearls are used when referring to sharing the salvation message (pearls) with those not ready to receive it (swine) and when describing the very gates of heavenly Jerusalem itself.

All this rich symbolism and I think my favorite comes from the very construction of the pearl itself. No pearl is made without great irritation and pain to the oyster in which it resides. The pearl is the result of the oyster dealing with an irritating bit of sand or grit; and the transformation from irritant to lustrous beauty is breathtaking.

This is how I want to be. I want to be that strong, brave, and powerful woman that shines with the luminous glow of feminine beauty. I want the world to see the transformation God has worked within me; taking my hard edges and pain and irritations and transforming that into soft, glowing visage... something priceless and something my husband will treasure.

Jason worked very hard to have me be his wife... he went out and saw someone he wanted to spend his life with (me... ::giggle::). That wasn't the end of the story; it was just the beginning. He persevered, he fought, he persisted and after the longest two-and-one-half years, he acquired that which he desired. He saw something of value and I want to be sure I am (and continue to develop into) that strong little pearl he believes me to be.

Being a virtuous woman is not easy and is certainly NOT for sissies or the faint-of-heart.

Day 235: The Axiom of Choice

Through the still quiet of the pre-dawn darkness came the ultimate sound of irritation: the incessant beeping of the alarm clock. What a nasty way to be awoken from the deepest of sleep and what dark ruminations exist toward the inventor of such a fiendish creation. Emerging from a sleepy fog, the call of the gym and the workout becomes more clear and with it a dilemma... or is it a choice?

I'm sure all of us at one time or another have experienced the [insert emotion here] of being awoken by an alarm clock, and I have to wonder how many people (except for those few perfect ones) have a love-hate relationship with that bit of electronics. I've been grateful for the alarm. I've been angry. I've been disappointed. I've been discouraged. I've even been delighted to hear that garish beep.

So let's face it. Could it be that the issue lies not with the alarm itself, but with each of us as individuals? Could it be that our response to that call to awaken arises, not from that lowly item, but from a plethora of emotions and thoughts which occur, sometimes, even before we go to sleep.

I find it ironic that I had planned most of the week to write on this particular topic.

Ironic because I had set my alarm for five this morning, giving me enough time to awaken, dress, and get to the gym by half past. This was important because Jason needed to leave the house at eight after seven, giving me 1.5 hours at the gym. This meant I would be able to just barely do my cycling and swimming for the day, but not the weights. I would have to be very punctual and have minimum transition times to accomplish this.

Well... the alarm went off at five. I snoozed it for ten, knowing I still had plenty of time. Saw the clock read twenty past and then I did it; I rolled over and re-enveloped myself in the warm and inviting down comforter and soft, fuzzy pillow. Yes, I got some more sleep (which I did actually need), but there were consequences.

I am now behind a full day of my training schedule and will have to make it up. Usually this means my Saturday - which I have allocated as my Rest Day - becomes a normal workout day because I took Friday off. ::sigh:: Not only that, but I miss out on the benefits of working out in the morning (perhaps I shall speak on those in a later post).

What happened? I lost focus of WHY the alarm was set in the first place. I needed to get up with the alarm because I'm working on losing weight. To lose weight, I'm following a training schedule which will culminate in a triathlon. To follow that training schedule for today, I needed to be up by five. Kinda sounds like the kingdom being lost for want of a nail, yes? Today, I was only thinking of the self-centered, emotion-of-the-moment reason for turning the alarm clock off and staying in bed.

How often does this happen in our lives? Where have we switched our focus from the longer-vision WHY we are doing to the more instant gratification and emotions of the moment? This perspective on life and our actions in that life applies to so many areas. WHY can't you have that slice of cake? WHY can't you buy that cute pair of shoes? WHY are you forbidding your child to whine?

These questions, when taken alone, seem depriving and depressing. It is only when the big picture is added back in and the WHY is answered that things make sense and lose that seemingly depriving state. I can't have that slice of cake because I am choosing to regain my pre-wedding weight. I can't buy that cute pair of shoes because I want to be debt-free. I am forbidding my child to whine because in life, whining is not the correct way to deal with disappointment or frustration.

As I thought last night about what I would share with you today, I had determined I would share with you my own personal success in this area: the area of focusing and acting on your WHY. ::tiny trumpet sounds in the background:: Instead, after this morning, I realized I only had a failure to share...

The old me would have drowned this failure in a blueberry biscuit or two from Hardee's, would have reveled in depression and posted a dismal Facebook status update, and most likely would have "boosted" my crushed spirits and faltering morale with a "comforting" full-spread Outback steak dinner.

That, however and thank God, is not me any more.

True, I did not meet the goal I set for myself this morning. Is that a reason for abject depression and abandonment of my exercise and weight-loss goals? Absolutely not. Instead, I admit I made a mistake and now I will move forward to have a productive, positive day with resolve to improve on tomorrow's performance.

All of life is a choice. Every single event you face, you have a choice. You are never the victim. I find it more and more like my mom used to tell me, "It doesn't matter what anyone else does, it only matters what you do." I have taken that little saying and have applied it to my own standard of living: I cannot control what others do to or around me, but I certainly can control how I respond in ANY given situation.

This week, I challenge you. I want you to choose and control your responses to the "slings and arrows of outrageous fortune... [the] sea of troubles... the heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to." Remember (or, in some cases, discover) your WHYs and reform your thoughts and responses to the minutia of life. It's your life; chose to live it well.

Day 228: There Is No Try

Well... I've gone and done it now. As of 2:37 this afternoon, I am officially registered as a participant in the 28th Annual Sandman Triathlon in Virginia Beach.

Sometime between 7:30 and 8:06 on the morning of September 19th, I and 357 other people (so far) I have never met will plunge through the Atlantic surf and set out on a 0.62-mile (1k) ocean swim, 14-mile bike ride, and 3.1-mile (5k) run. The whole thing should not take more than three hours, and I'm hoping it will take significantly less - I'm aiming for half that.

I have never done anything even remotely like this in my entire life.

Having actually registered and actually paid real money for this event, I am walking the bridge which lies over the Knowing-Doing Gap.

Everyone knows about this famous chasm. On the one side reside the many hundreds of thousands of people who know what they should do, who know what it will take to achieve their dreams, who have a plan to complete their goals. I don't care how small the goal is. Perhaps it is as small as resolving to take a shower today or to make it to the post office before they close. Maybe it's a bigger goal. To pay off that $5000 credit card debt or lose fifty pounds. What if the desired end is enormous? To become independently wealthy, to have paid off the house, to earn a doctorate degree?

So many dreams and goals and desires. Do you know what the sad thing is? How many of these dreams, goals, and desires will remain just that? Look over at the other side of the chasm and how many people do you see there? True, there are many... but not as many as are on the Knowing side of the gulf.

Here's more of a mind-blower. This chasm already has a bridge built over it. There exists a way to get from "I wish" to "I have" and it is so simple. You must DO something. You can't just sit back and think about what you're "going to do" or what you're "planning to accomplish." No. You must actually DO something.

Taking a shower requires that you actually step inside the shower and perform the necessary ablutions. Paying off a credit card requires that you not only set aside the necessary funds, but also that you actually pay those savings on the card. Becoming independently wealthy requires that you change your current outlook on life and corresponding actions. In my case, losing weight requires that I actually stop overeating and start exercising.

For me, it has taken years and years and years of frustrated wishing. So many times, I tried on some article of clothing and hated the reflection in the mirror. So many times I imagined I was that trim, slim person who could wear any clothes and never have to worry about whether certain lumps or bulges were covered. Let's not even mention how many times I thought about eating better after I'd finished an over-large, high-calorie meal.

In Proverbs we are told that "hope deferred maketh the heart sick." So true and yet, how many times have each one of us lolled in the land of the heart sick and wished and longed for things we actually could do something to achieve? I realize there are situations which can be wished and hoped for, but whose end result is not something we can affect. I want to make it clear I am not talking about those. I am talking about situations where we can do something.

I have been dieting with Tidewater Bariatrics for three weeks and training for my upcoming triathlon for two weeks now and I am starting to see some very interesting emotional and mental changes taking place.

Food is no longer something I expend much thought on any more! No more daydreaming about what I will have for dinner and dessert. No more fantasizing about which restaurant I can persuade Jason to bring home dinner from. No more strategizeing to ensure my errand routes take me past a desired fast food stop. Do you have any idea how much time is spent thinking about food in your day? I was shocked to find out how much I thought about food.

Not only does food not run my life any more, but exercise is finding a regular and, I might add, welcome place in my daily routines. Fearing the boredom I have so oft experienced when attempting to work out more, I thought about what I could do to keep things interesting. The YMCA has a cool system by which you earn points for logging your exercise and that's cool. But I wanted something more.

A triathlon.

Okay... I admit I'm a bit of an overachiever. However, I looked at the maximum times given to complete the three seperate legs of the triathlon and realized I was already close to being able to meet those max times already. One night, a half-mile swim in the pool convinced me I could do this. When I mentioned to Jason I was thinking about doing the Sandman Triathlon, I also threw in the caveat that I was planning to wait until the end of August before committing/registering in the event.

His response was one of wisdom. Jason told me to register immediately for the triathlon and THEN train for it, thereby giving me a serious point of responsibility as well as giving me an interesting reason for doing the exercise I was doing. That shook me a bit, but I did it. I took my first step on that bridge spanning the Knowing-Doing gap and I have never looked back.

I found a basic three-month triathlon training program online and set out DOING each daily routine. I find I don't think about what I have to do any more; I just DO it. Read the workout tasks for the day and check them off when I'm done.

Eighty degrees at 5:30 in the morning and I have a 3.2-mile walk/run ahead of me? No longer do I spend the previous night and precious time that morning thinking about how hot it will be, how sweaty I will get, how uncomfortable I will feel, how far away from home I have to go (I have a thing about walking long distances away from my house).

Now, I might enjoy the bed for a couple of extra minutes, but then I actually do get up, really get dressed, walk outside for real, and totally DO my workout. I have chosen not to have failure as a mindset any longer. And the effects of thinking that way about my daily workouts are spreading.

Food: I eat three meals a day. I have planned out the day before what I will eat and when; eating then becomes a check-off list.

Household chores: Order and cleanliness is on the rampage through our house. I started with a couple of areas (Jason actually made the initial push to get them spotless. ::smile::) and not only have purposed to maintain that cleanliness, but actually maintain. The kitchen was first, then the dining room, then Peter's room, then the living room and Jason's desk. I'm not perfect, but I'm working on it.

Kids: I am becoming more and more consistent as new two-year-old challenges rise to my attention daily! I don't think about what an inconvenience it is to deal with wrong actions (or even daily necessities), I just DO whatever I need to. It seems Peter and Mikey are starting to reap the benefits of this as well. Hehe.

Doing is so much more powerful then thinking or purposing or planning or dreaming or wishing. The new levels of happiness and self-confidence that come with doing what you know is right are something I never want to be without again. Even looking at weight progress pictures I'd taken in January and seeing the difference in how I'm standing and (what hit me most strongly) the life that is now in my eyes.

January's pictures captured the eyes and face of someone who felt trapped and miserable; who wanted to change, but didn't want to actually do anything; someone who dreaded each new day and couldn't think past her many failures. Yesterday's pictures showed something completely different. There's a new spark and life. Yes, I'm not where I want to be yet on so many levels, but I'm DOING something about it. And that, I think, makes all the difference!

I'm standing on that bridge which traverses the perilous Knowing-Doing Gap. There is so much room here... you should come and stand with me. Hurry though... I won't be standing long; I'm moving as fast as I can to the other side.

Day 225: Does Your Life Have a Soundtrack?

Hey, did you know 225 is the square of 15?

Okay, so maybe that would be more appropriate for a math-oriented blog... this is clearly a health and fitness blog right? On the surface, that is true. Below the surface, there lurks the beautiful world of numbers and math.

Those of you who know me will most likely remember that I LOVE math and numbers. But before anyone's eyes turn glassy and roll up behind your eyelids, just relax. I'm not going to descend into the realm of heavy math. Smile. Breathe deeply. Relax.

Saturday, 24 July 2010 marked the supposed endpoint of the Ruth Cooper Project.

I started this blog in December of 2009 when one of my best friends invited me to be a bridesmaid in her wedding. I've always wanted to be a bridesmaid and if I had been a bridesmaid in as many weddings of friends that I've attended over the years, I could easily have starred in the movie 27 Dresses myself!

While this news thrilled me, a simultaneous explosion of terror ran through me: I would have to wear a formal dress! To most people, this would not be a big deal. To me, having just given birth to my second son a month before and still carrying the 115 extra pounds from Son Number One, this was bad news. My standard wardrobe at the time consisted of faded maternity t-shirts and two pairs of maternity pants - one velvet, the other stretch.

Something had to change, and fast, if I wanted to be stunning at my friends wedding.

I figured if I applied myself, I could get very close to my goal weight by the time of the wedding... and yet, as the Chronicles of Ruth show, I never managed to keep my focus on the dieting or exercising to the extent needed. Yes, I lost 30 pounds using various techniques. Yes, I started working out more. Yes, I was feeling and moving better then I had been.

The truly shameful thing is this: during my several months of silence on this blog, I gained back every pound. That's right... every single pound. The embarrassment I felt at stepping on the new analog scale and watching the needle sail effortlessly by the "maximum" weight tick mark was so incredibly depressing and more often than not, sent me in search of something comforting - at that time: Outback steak, sweet potatoes, bread and butter, and mango tea.

Wouldn't you know, though? During that two or three months, this blog and the responsibility I felt to all of you who have worked so hard to support and encourage me in emotional and financial ways (I still haven't forgotten one of you paid for six months at the YMCA) forced me to get back on track.

I am back on track.

Today, I realized more than ever that I have made some serious life-style changes. Not only in the mind realm, but also in the physical realm. Although I was no where near the weight I had hoped to be at my friend's wedding, I had already taken drastic steps to ensure I would one day experience that goal. Since my enrollment in the Tidewater Bariatrics program on 11 July 2010, I have already seen 21 pounds of weight melt off and over 12 inches of girth disappear.

Did that weight really melt off and did those inches really disappear?

No.

There is a great deal of purposeful dedication and many conscious choices behind these successes.

Success stories aren't fuzzy and rarely are they glamorous. Sure, there are the few that are stunning and breathtaking. They are the ones that make you envision your path to your goal as one of those overly-inspiring, chest-puffing, back-straightening, emotion-swelling, inspirational-soundtrack video montages on all those overly-inspiring, chest-puffing, back-straightening, emotion-swelling, inspirational-soundtrack epic films out there.

I mean, seriously... who isn't with Rocky as he trains for his comeback? Who isn't with Braveheart as he travels the countryside rallying men to his cause? Who can resist wanting to join Cuba Gooding, Jr. as he sweats through his military and diver training? Who among the math geeks and nerds can fail to be inspired to solve the unsolvable with John Nash (especially with that soundtrack!!)? Finally, who can hold back a tear or still their heart rate as the 1924 Olympic team experiences the result of thousands of hours of pain, tears, and sweat?

If the hard parts of life could happen in an inspiring montage, complete with swelling soundtrack, I'd be a sleek, muscular, lithe athlete. [Standing in front of a mirror, I have to chuckle at this]. The point I'm trying to make is this: we are not in a finished film production. There is no montage yet. The soundtrack hasn't been written and there are no glamorizing filters. Right now, we are in the very middle of making our montage possible.

I believe there cannot be great things without great investment.

So when you're feeling discouraged, think about your favorite "success movie training montage" and then think just a little bit more about the sheer amount of dedication, ups, downs, triumphs, failures, excitements, disappointments, laughter, tears, joys, and depressions that made up that character's success montage.

Success doesn't just happen; you have to want it.

[In case you were wondering, the films I referenced above were, in order: Rocky Balboa, Braveheart, Men of Honor, A Beautiful Mind, and Chariots of Fire.]

Day 217: Go Waste, Young Man... Go Waist

I heard a story - and maybe you have, too - about a man who had worked for many years for a construction company. He worked selflessly and hard, but eventually he had had enough and went to his boss. After explaining that he was ready to retire, his boss requested that he do one last favor for him and build one final house.

Reluctantly, this man begrudgingly built the final house; cutting corners and doing shoddy work. The house was finished quickly... perhaps too quickly... and the man's boss came for a final inspection. At the conclusion of the inspection, the man left the house with his boss who took a folded piece of paper and handed it to him. His boss mentioned how much he had appreciated his work over the years and to please accept this gift in gratitude for all his hard work and diligence.

As the boss walked away, he left a stunned man looking down at a set of brand new house keys.

Now think about the human race. We stroll blithely through our lives in the most amazing and complicated collection of mechanics and systems ever created; so balanced and so fragile, yet so absurdly resilient and diverse - the human body. We have been given such a gift in the form of the human body and yet we think nothing of it and treat it with such disrespect.

What about this idea... you are building and shaping the house you live in. Now think... what kind of job are you doing?

Last week, I made a huge and significant commitment to losing the rest of my excess weight; I joined Tidewater Bariatrics' Decision Free diet plan. Tidewater Bariatrics is a weight-loss clinic providing rapid weight-loss programs with medical supervision and high levels of accountability and support - they even supply the food you eat.

I went through medical and psych evaluations, talked with the doctor and nurses, and had lots of labs and medical panels drawn. Needless to say, I was absolutely fascinated by the entire process. I love numbers and data and medical stuff; this was right up my alley. Results of the labs reported I was in good health, with all numbers (except for my weight) being good. I did have a Vitamin D deficiency (a 14 when 35 is normal). Apparently, many overweight people going for gastric bypass surgery suffer from a Vitamin D deficiency and I have to wonder if their obesity is linked to the depression and low energy that surfaces as a symptom of Vitamin D deficiency. Feeling low? Might want to get that checked.

Anyway.

Yesterday I completed my first week of official dieting and have decided I love this program. There is so much accountability and so many ways to share your successes and progress that I find myself quite motivated, not only to participate, but also to lose weight and remain compliant with the program.

Every week, we have a two-hour class to educate us on various areas of weight loss... both physical and mental aspects. Honestly, I was arrogant enough to think that I already knew what we were going to talk about this past evening. I have a lot of curiosity and some training in the medical arena and I assumed that since the group leader had said we were going to talk about proper choices in eating that I already had a firm handle on what she was going to say.

I was not prepared for the depth of insights I gained while in class that night!

During the course of the evening, the topic of discussion turned toward fantasizing and dreaming about food. As a patient of Tidewater Bariatrics, you have a limited amount and variety of food from which to choose and the temptation to imagine what you will eat when off the diet is strong, as is desiring food that you may not have if you wish to be compliant.

I giggle here because every time I hear (or read) the word "compliant," I have a visual of being strapped into a cyborg suit and regeneration chamber or of tottering mechanically through a green-hued, smokey atmosphere while hearing a multi-layered mechanical voice proclaim, "We are the collective; you will comply."

But I digress...

What struck me so strongly was the propensity for people to dwell on food in their minds. So... they're not eating it anymore, but what are they still doing? Dreaming and fantasizing and desiring. Wait. What is wrong with that? Could it be that food is taking the place of things we should be dreaming about? of goals that we could be achieving? of relationships with family and friends we should be nurturing?

How many times have you heard someone say they "love" a particular food item or that a certain toothsome pastry "made their day"? What about the whole "I'd kill for a donut and coffee right now" mentality? Or "I was dreaming about eating this chocolate cake allllll day today." Can you see how this is just a little bit wrong?

Here's a more frightening thought. Is this the group of people Paul was talking about in Philippians? Those who were "the enemies of the cross of Christ: whose end is destruction, whose God is their belly, and whose glory is in their shame, who mind earthly things."? Perhaps what alarms me the most is: Am I one of those people?

So save your daydreams and fantasies for actual people and goals. Food won't love you back. You cannot have a normal, human-style relationship with comestibles. Stuff you eat should never be a life goal. Also, if you are plugging in relational gaps between you and your loved ones - spouse, children, relatives, friends - with food, you are not fixing anything or solving root issues. What is worse, it's like painting over mildew so everything will "look" beautiful.

We are each building the house we live in.

What kind of house are you building?

Day 210: An End unto a Beginning

What is it about control?

I didn't realize I had control issues until the past week. Actually, I rather suspected I had some control issues, but never pinned a label on myself and accepted the title of "Control Freak." In so many areas, I have worked hard to yield my desire to dominate and control to my husband, my employers, etc. and have succeeded in many ways... save one.

Food.

This past week, I have taken an extreme plunge into weight loss and have made some serious commitments and life changes (which I will detail later), but that is not what I want to focus on first. I want to explore the lies we (me specifically) tell ourselves about food and our relationship with it.

Last week, I underwent a full panel of medical tests and behavioral analysis in preparation for my next step in the Ruth Cooper Project. Everything seemed to be going well and, being a huge fan of The Biggest Loser, I kept flashing to the many contestants I'd seen as they underwent the same type of testing and evaluation I was undergoing and wondering why it was that so many of them ended up in tears as they spoke of the life circumstances that led them to gain as much as they had.

As the testing drew to a close, I began to congratulate myself on having had no emotional breakdown. All answers were given clearly, succinctly; my personal medical knowledge made it easier for the nurses and doctors to explain issues to me; no tests returned unexpected results - everything was wonderful.

And then I sat down with the primary doctor to go over my file and tests. Very matter-of-factly, she asked brief questions about my relationship with food. Some questions I picked out immediately as being psych profiling and in other questions, I recognized information I'd previously supplied coming back at me in odd ways. None of this caught me off guard or surprised me until she asked me a couple of questions.

The first question had to do with self-esteem and did I eat to make myself feel better or use food to reward my actions. I had to answer yes. Was anyone expressing dissatisfaction with my weight? No. All my self-loathing in this area came directly from me - no one, family member or friend, had ever mentioned how heavy I was. Shocked, I watched her type the term "self abuse" into her notes. Was that true? Was I really abusing myself? I had never before thought of what I was doing in "clinical" terms.

The questions continued and I could feel a bit of emotional shock. Did I eat differently when alone? Yes. I had recently started eating "normally" around other people (including Jason) and eating out-of-control when no one was watching. Did I hide food? At this, my brain felt as if it had stopped working. I'd never really thought of it as hiding food. A donut eaten before arriving at home. A candy bar placed under my desk so Jason wouldn't find it. A piece of chocolate cake smuggled home and never mentioned. Granted, this was a recent occurrence, but that shouldn't be happening at all!

The doctor continued typing and I could feel remorse welling up inside me, thinking about the poor eating decisions I had made over the past two years. A pause in the typing and she turned to me, mentioning that even though I had a dislike of medications and had eschewed them for my whole life, I was still self medicating. I nodded and responded that I had been doing it with food. Perhaps she was looking for a bit of denial because she pressed in and likened the overeating with "food-crack". Again, I agreed quickly, stating that I could see how that would be an appropriate analogy. My guess is that many patients there are still in denial about how they use food and why they overeat... I'd spent too much time thinking about how I got here... and the doctor said that was a good thing.

I have used food because I wanted to be in control; food was the ONE thing in my life I COULD control and I abused that power over and over.

I got married and suddenly, there was no check or accountability on what I could eat or have in the house - after all, I was the one making dinner and shopping for groceries. This weak start in the self-control department only spiraled as God shaped my life (and as I fought against it by eating).

With so many major life changes over the past three years - engagement, wedding planning, honeymoon, marriage, one child, house purchase and move, second child (and, yes, all this has happened in the past three years) - my self-absorbed response to all these changes I could not (keyword here) CONTROL, was to alter the thing I could control and that was my eating.

I controlled it, all right... I controlled to the point where I now weigh 120 pounds more than I did the day I got married two-and-a-half years ago!

Again, I truly didn't realize just how bad I've been until Jason asked me the other day to throw out or give away ALL foods in the house that would not be permitted on our new diet (and that Peter and Mikey won't eat). I fought his request strongly, even with tears. Then God graciously revealed the truth of this conflict: my desire to keep food in the house was because I still wanted to keep some control over my food. At that dawning of truth, I broke and realized I was a control freak and at the very heart of every matter was a refusal to yield either to God or my husband. As long as I had food to control, I would fairly easily comply with requests and directives... and pride myself on being "flexible."

Since last Thursday, when all this began, mine has been a life turned up-side-down. But then again, isn't that when God is able to move in interesting and wonderful ways.

Now, the food is gone and I am, perhaps for the first time in my life, ready to seek new methods for coping with life's stresses.

Day 123: Niiice...

Days remaining: 100
Pounds remaining: 123.5
Inches lost/gained this past week: -7.0
Pounds lost/gained this past week: -6.5
Percentage weight loss this past week: -2.32%

Total pounds lost: -29.5
Total inches lost: -28.5


The morning began with no apparent change;
my weight was staying inside a certain range.
And deep within, I thought, Grr... that is so strange?!
So, brooding aside, my new day to arrange.

Ensuring no duty received a shortchange,
the day with all it's tasks I to prearrange.
Yet later, my heart hoping for a sweet change,
upon scale I saw six pounds for exchange.

Those welcome results threw me for a huge loop;
news I could share heartily with my blog group.
That number erased from my sad eyes a droop
as I bounded from the scale with a loud whoop!

[And, yes, I do apologize for forcing you to experience baaaaaad poetry]

Day 113: Living the Miracle

Days remaining: 110
Pounds remaining: 130.0
Inches lost/gained this past week: -2.5
Pounds lost/gained this past week: -4.5
Percentage weight loss this past week: -1.58%

Total pounds lost: -23.0
Total inches lost: -21.5

Wow! This has been an amazing three weeks! Even though we are still doing the Candida diet, the weight loss I have been experiencing can be attributed to nothing short of miraculous! For fourteen weeks, I struggled to lose ten little pounds... ten irritating pounds which were lost and gained over and over for FOURTEEN WEEKS!!!

I would soar on the wings of anticipation and encouragement with each loss only to get depressed and discouraged with each weight gain; all dutifully noted and recorded at the end of each week. I fumed, I pouted, I vilified the scale, I overate, I complained... and then I prayed. Desperately, I asked for help sticking to a diet and exercise regimen and for a miracle.

Then one day, a friend prayed for me to experience miraculous weight loss. And I believed. The first week showed an 11.5-pound drop and the second week gave a 4.5-pound loss. I lost more in three weeks than I had lost in the previous fourteen!! God truly does answer prayers and has been giving the strength to stick with the eating changes we've made (and the increased level of exercise).

Now, in response to the number of people who have expressed concern over proper nutrition while eating according to the Candida diet, rest assured. Putting it the way I did makes it sound unhealthy - taking away wheat, yeast, sugar, dairy, and caffeine - but let's look at it from the side of "what can be eaten."

While on the Candida diet, basically meat and vegetables are what you get, with an occasional low-sugar fruit thrown in for good measure. Many grains other than wheat are acceptable: buckwheat, oats, quinoa, brown rice, amaranth, barley... all low-gluten. Fish, chicken, lean beef, and various fowl can be found in the meat area. The Candida diet supports healing and detoxification and is not a permanent eating plan and we will be eating this way until the end of July, the goal end of this Project.

So, to sum up. Basic hunter-gatherer diet. Lots of veggies and meats. Nice clean foods without a lot of processing. Easier to digest and, once you've eaten this way for a little bit, some foods that are bad for you actually taste bad (or not as good as you remembered). Sweet things become nauseating in some cases or taste chemically.

Turns out, Jason and I have very mild cases of candida overgrowth, so we're not anticipating remaining on the diet beyond the end of July. It is, however, suggested that for increased health and reduced risk of candida overgrowth recurring, to follow an 80-20 plan. For 80% of the time, eat according to the diet. The other 20% of the time can be "other foods" allowances. The 80-20 plan gives freedom and forgiveness for any slip-ups or conscious choices along the way.

An example? For some reason, I have recently fallen in love with soft serve and Starbucks ice cream and ice cold, juicy pears (not together). Unfortunately, the diet forbids dairy and frowns upon pears (they're in the 80% list, though). Solution: We eat according to the diet through the week proper and make a valiant attempt to do so on the weekends. If we do vary, we try to just pick one item to splurge on instead of going hog wild.

Does it work? The results are speaking for themselves!

So. God is amazing. Candida overgrowth is dying. No malnutrition is taking place.

Day 106: Diet Hard (Whee!): With a Vengeance

Days remaining: 117
Pounds remaining: 134.5
Inches lost/gained this past week: -2.75
Pounds lost/gained this past week: -11.5
Percentage weight loss this past week: -3.89%

Total pounds lost: -18.5
Total inches lost: -19.0

Well... let's just say the past several weeks have been horrible from the Project's point of view! I don't ever remember hitting such a diet low. This is the post I always dreaded would need to be written and yet knew would have to be shared to ensure Project integrity.

I'm not sure what happened, but I do know the diet was boring and I wasn't interested in finding out new and creative ways to enjoy low-calorie foods which led to a sort of funk and lethargy from which I never fully recovered.

In retrospect, it seems all the snow threw a curveball into everyday life. Snow, to me, bespeaks hot chocolate with whipped cream, fresh chocolate chip cookies, movies, lounging around - a holiday atmosphere. Unfortunately, these delights are not in line with gym time, reduced calorie eating, and gallons of sweat.

I wanted to quit so badly and then one day, I actually did. A pan of rice krispie treats with chocolate chips was way too easy to make and once I tasted them, I didn't stop. Mouthful after mouthful of buttery, chocolaty, chewy goodness went down accompanied with thought after thought of what I was going to have to say about this major infraction.

I think I just shut down. For weeks, the same 5-8 pounds have been lost and gained and I had not been able to drop below a certain plateau line; no matter what. All diets got tossed out the window and I did go back to eating whatever I wanted to eat... almost.

To my delight, I was okay with making more healthful choices and choosing the smaller portion sizes and enjoying them just as much as if I had eaten a much larger portion. Examples? Previously, I would have gotten a venti Java Chip Frappuccino and now I found myself quite content with a tall size instead. Skipping dessert, eating more veggies, cutting back on carb portions just a little, and scaling back subsequent meals after a large indulgence were all tactics I tried.

Soon, it became apparent to me that I needed to get a grip and do something drastic. Through various circumstances, it became clear that the next step was to go on the Candida Diet. What does that entail? Well... imagine a way of eating that removes all wheat, corn, yeast, sugar, dairy, most fruit, and (horror of horrors) caffeine. That is the Candida Diet.

So our whole family is now on the diet and yes, there are things you can still eat... it boils down to meat and vegetables and not much else. On the plus side, this diet is designed to kill yeast overgrowth. Granted, none of us have a serious issue, but this will kill that overgrowth and, we're hoping, will give us more energy and smaller girths as a result. Even Peter is seeing benefits, though I must admit to the difficulty in having removed Cheerios, crackers, mac and cheese, hot dogs, and bread from the little man's diet.

We started Monday (22 March) and I have already lost 11.5 pounds!! I'm back in the gym, am losing inches, and am newly inspired to get this weight off. I have broken through that plateau barrier I couldn't break before and am excited to see what will happen next.

It's not easy doing this particular diet, but I know it will do wonderful things for our family. Thank you, my faithful readers, for your concern and encouragement to get this blog back up and running. It really is because of you and your participation in my Project that I haven't given up completely and a major contributing cause to the reinvigorating of this blog.

Moving on!

Day 102: In a Slump

Days remaining: 121
Pounds remaining: 146.0
Inches lost/gained this past week:
Pounds lost/gained this past week: +4.5
Percentage weight loss this past week: +1.54%

Total pounds lost: -7.0
Total inches lost: -16.25

Day 95: Barely There

Days remaining: 128
Pounds remaining: 141.5
Inches lost/gained this past week:
Pounds lost/gained this past week: +3.5
Percentage weight loss this past week: +1.22%

Total pounds lost: -11.5
Total inches lost: -16.25

This week stank... huge slump... more details in more recent post... just wanted the data posted here to be consistent-ish.

Day 87: Just the Data

Days remaining: 136
Pounds remaining: 138.0
Inches lost/gained this past week: -1.00
Pounds lost/gained this past week: -2.5
Percentage weight loss this past week: -0.86%

Total pounds lost: -15.0
Total inches lost: -16.25

This was an amazing week... and the drop in weight FINALLY let me drop into a new weight zone, breaking the 5-7 pound range I was stuck in!

[This post has been WAY postdated. I felt it was important to post the data I had collected on that date.]

Day 79: Better Late Than Never

Days remaining: 144
Pounds remaining: 140.5
Inches lost/gained this past week: +0.25
Pounds lost/gained this past week: -1.00
Percentage weight loss this past week: -0.34%

Total pounds lost: -12.5
Total inches lost: -15.25

Well... this posting is waay later than I was hoping to post it, but I felt it was important to put up the results from the last week.

Progress is so slow and I'm thinking of shaking things up a little. It seems when the weight goes down, the inches go up and when the inches go down, the weight goes up. Granted, when there is a gain of around 0.25 inches, usually that means there has been a significant loss at a couple of measuring points.

I have discovered Zumba... a Latin dance workout that makes you work harder than seems humanly possible while twisting, kicking, jumping, and moving your feet and hands to a beat that makes time fly. Oh, and did I mention you can burn up to 1000 calories per hour!! That is unheard of!

Friday, I attended two Zumba classes back to back! Oh. My. Goodness. I barely made it to the end of the second class and was completely wiped the next day. And the next. The experience, however, was so (I hate to use the word) empowering. I felt energetic even though I couldn't think about moving around any more and had a neat sense of accomplishment.

Zumba feels like dancing - as it should - and, though the mirror tells me otherwise, I feel like I'm the most graceful and powerful dancer around. So far, so good.

Day 74: Monolith Syndrome

And the results for this week's comparison are in:

Days remaining: 149
Pounds remaining: 141.5
Inches lost/gained this past week: 0.0
Pounds lost/gained this past week: -3.5
Percentage weight loss this past week: -1.19%

Total pounds lost: -11.5
Total inches lost: -15.5

I realized an interesting fact today. For a while, I have suspected that I have been suffering from Monolith Syndrome and today it was completely confirmed.

This evening, I stepped SO far out of my comfort zone and joined a Zumba class at the YMCA! I have been avoiding any class exercising for months now because I have been so afraid that I will be the only one in class who can't keep up or who will look like a total idiot.

Now an observation... for overweight individuals, the current exercise dress code seems to be an expression of either the Monolith Syndrome or the Popped Biscuit Can look. The Monolith wears extremely baggy and long clothing that obscures every single lump... or so that individual believes. The horrible truth lies buried in the comfort baggy clothes provide; deceptive comfort. It's so easy to feel slim and muscular beneath a t-shirt two or three sizes too large... mirrors have a nasty way of popping that bubble.

The Popped Biscuit Can look involves wearing "normal" workout clothing that would be fine for a normal-weighted individual. Regrettably, these people seem to pay no heed to the rolls of extra that slip out from under the sports top or the puffiness that spills over the top of those "cute," skintight exercise pants.

Which style am I? I wish I could say Yuppie Slim, but when I entered the Zumba session, my sight was assaulted by what appeared to be a single, black monolith. There were mirrors everywhere, surrounding the room with multiple reflections of that impressive sight; even the largest person in the room was half my size! My monolith wasn't some point of personal evolution as I wrote in a previous blog post - I WAS the monolith!

I suppose this would normally have daunted me, but I really wanted to participate in the Zumba and focused on the instructor while attempting to coerce my overtly-Caucasian body into swaying gracefully with the Latin rhythms. At various points, I would feel as if my form was extremely good and I was really getting the steps... then I would glance back at my reflection and would see the most absurd sight I have ever seen. Plump white arms protruding from rolled-up black sleeves and swaying hips that were barely seen beneath the drapery of the way-large black t-shirt.

Now, I've always enjoyed seeing the pure joy some large people exude when dancing all out; as if they completely forget how large they are and who is watching - they simply have fun. So this was the path I chose to take. And I had fun. I tripped and stumbled, missed the beat and alternately forgot to add arms to my steps (and vice versa)... all the while wondering who that goofy person in the mirror could possibly be imitating.

The shock would set in every once in a while.

As I walked away, I realized that although I was so absurd in my performance, I had such a strong desire to master the Zumba steps and moves. I will be back and I look forward to winning the approval of the instructor and the other rhythmic/experienced participants with my masterful display of awesomeness... I hope. Besides, I can't complain about an hour-long session that burns up to 1000 calories and which flies by so quickly, I don't notice how long I've been exercising!

I also realized I should get different clothing for working out. I'm very comfortable in my HUGE black 3x t-shirt and I feel smaller inside, but the mirrors surrounding every room in the Y keep broadcasting an extremely uncomfortable picture back to me... something I can change now.

Now, to find the balance between evidencing the Monolith Syndrome and resembling a Popped Biscuit Can.

Day 65: This Isn't Fun Any More

::Sigh:: Now that my accounts have been restored from the lovely hack job done on them this past week, it seems there are no more excuses to prevent me from posting something I completely did not want to post... at all.

Days remaining: 158
Pounds remaining: 145
Inches lost/gained: +0.25
Pounds lost/gained: +2.5
Percentage weight lost: +1.01%

In looking at the inches lost, my top half gained, but the lower half lost big time - which is kind of the whole point I'm trying to achieve here. An additional bonus is that five of my twelve measuring points are holding rock steady... and most likely will until the next large weight drop.

All of this is very statistical and fulfills my self-imposed requirements... and serves to try to skirt around the point that I've been trying to avoid talking about or posting for a while now: the past two weeks have been terrible from a dietary and exercise standpoint.

It's one thing to build a higher-calorie day into your diet, but another thing entirely to overdo it for the whole weekend. It's one thing to have a couple more bites of something at one meal and another thing to blow an entire meal later in the day.

Shortest way to say it - the week before last was a slippery slope. I saw the signs and decided to ignore them; primarily because it was more convenient to eat whatever and whenever I wanted to. Last week was full-scale plummeting with no attempt at keeping to a diet or getting to the gym.

Why? I suppose part of it was I was tired of counting calories, of early-morning jaunts to the gym, of trying to rearrange food choices to be more attractive or filling, of passing on desserts and sodas. It simply was too easy to do nothing.

Granted, there was a bright side to all this sliding. Even on the highest-calorie days, Jason and I would split the Subway foot-long or the Wendy's frosty or the WaWa turkey bowl instead of eating a whole portion each. Each time I went to Starbucks, I would chose a Tall instead of Venti drink and, on occasion, pass on the whipped cream.

So, I suppose progress is being made... slowly. But it's too slow and I desperately need to pick up the pace if I'm to make it anywhere near my goal. I have a phrase I use when a once-attractive pursuit becomes odious and onerous - "This isn't fun any more."

I have certainly hit the "this isn't fun any more" point in this project and, quite frankly, knowing how I normally operate, I'm surprised it's taken this long to get here. The distance I have to still go is discouraging and somewhat depressing. I promised honesty and here it is. Not pretty, somewhat embarrassing... but true.

At this point, I am working through my "feelings" by praying and trying to get to the bottom of why this kind of slippage is happening. I am back on the diet and have gone to the gym twice this week already. I really don't want to quit and don't intend to... I simply need to re-energize and re-commit.