Do I Know Me?

Ok, so I'll admit. It finally happened to me. I looked at myself in a photo and didn't realize it was me.

Can you find me?

Mind you, it was a group photo, and I was in the background. But, I had also been tagged. So, I really have no excuse. Especially to need to use the tag to find myself.

I was at a ski weekend retreat.  Two years ago, I didn't know how to ski and I wouldn't have dreamed I would ever even try it. Let alone ski through 12 inches of newly falling snow, snow fog, and ride an alpine roller coaster. I assumed skiing was a sport for the rich, the fit, or both. Now, I've skied double-black slopes and I own my own equipment and a frequent skier discount card (which greatly reduces the cost). It wasn't lost on me this weekend (especially as I sang and conducted a small group for Mass) that I literally would not have been there had it not been for all the changes in my life over the past two years. And I am so grateful for all of that.

Relaxing in the hot tub while watching the snow fall on Saturday night (yeehah!), a friend said, "Look at all you've done in the past year. And it's not an act. It's really you." Yes, it is really me. And it's been so much change so fast, that sometimes it's good to hear that come back from the outside. Especially from someone who has watched so much of the progress.

The first night of the retreat, I received a rather pointed question, "Since you're such an attractive woman and you have such a great personality, how come there is no mister in your life?" The compliment was not lost on me. For a moment, I thought through the answer and then honestly responded, "I gave a lot of my life to the Church. Then, I had to spend a lot of time learning to take care of myself and take care of some issues that I really didn't want to bring into a relationship." The weight was the visible sign of those things that were out of order on the inside. And I only started this journey after a lot of work on the core issues, which is what causes most people to rebound. The only way to make the change permanent, was to permanently change.

It's still not perfect, and the Lenten temptations to stress and be afraid are alive and well. But the progress is there to be seen, even in going to renew a yearly license today and seeing the difference in the photos year over year.

So, here's to new experiences at the start of a season of change. I wonder what other permanent changes it will bring ...

Bits and Pieces (or How Dancing Changes Perspective)

There are moments in my life in which past, present, and future converge. I had a recent experience with that at a dance.

Looking at the past, I've had some common experiences with most people who are overweight. In one way or another, words, actions, and events stole bits and pieces of my soul. People who wrestle with their weight know what I mean: being chosen last for a softball game as a kid, having trouble getting off the couch, people interacting with you and speaking of you differently because of how you look, having to make different vacation choices and plans because there are things you simply can't do. Because of the eating decisions you made, often in response to things that were far, far worse than was apparent on the outside.

I recently went to a dance where suddenly, a lot of things changed. As I was checking in for the dance, the woman running the event looked me over from head to toe. This has not been a common experience in my life, and for a moment I even wondered what it meant. Next up were the comments from the other women at the dance. Complete strangers came up to me to compliment the red dress I was wearing and to ask me where I got my dancing shoes. I even had one woman in the bathroom comment on my hair clip. Apart from the dress, these were all items I had worn before, but not with that reaction. And, as I noted the accumulating compliments, I felt some of the little bits and pieces of my soul coming back to me.

Then, there was the interaction with the men in the room. A dance instructor asked me to dance. As the music started, I knew it was a style of dance I had done before, but I couldn't quite remember the name. As we started, I realized it was a Meringue, and we had danced this one time months before, as I was just beginning to learn Latin dance styles. I remembered it well enough (and moved well enough), that he did a lot of more complicated moves than the last time we had danced. I was successfully able to follow his lead and execute the more difficult moves. And I felt just a little bit more accomplished than I had before.

There was someone at the dance whom I had known for the better part of 25 years. As teenagers, we had been in school together. At the time, he was considered the cat's meow by the other girls in high school. I thought he was a bit full of himself at the time, but by paying dues he's turned out to be a very fine man now. He asked me to dance. When we were done, another friend commented, "that looked like fun."

The thing is, he would never have asked me to dance back then (or rather, in fact, he never did, though we attended many of the same dances). And, after the dance, he reminisced about how long we had know each other. Inside my head, I realized that, at the age of 37, I am actually in better shape and stronger than I was as a teenager. In all that time, I had never been so physically strong or fit as I am now. And, I felt another piece of my soul restored not because he had danced with me, but because I had accomplished so much.

Apart from a few key close friends, I have historically not worried about what other people thought of me. It is a failing, I think, common to being overweight, and a matter of self-defense. You stop worrying about what you feel you cannot change (your weight) and focus on more ethereal goals (being good, friendly, educated, etc.) instead of taking control of what's actually bothering you and making the changes you can. And there is a tendency to criticize those who respond to you differently because of what you look like.

I still firmly believe that what is on the inside is far more important than anything else. I have no patience for the "attractive" people who are full of themselves and treat others badly. I don't consider that attractive in any way, and I think those people wind up very lonely in the final estimation. And that is just as sad as the person who is overlooked because they are overweight.

On the other hand, I had to learn several years ago that it was ok to also focus on the outside (like wearing makeup) and that was not being false to what is on the inside. I am learning that lesson again, and on a deeper level, as I reclaim what was meant to be mine--being healthy, strong, attractive, and the woman God always intended me to be.

So, here is my call, at the start of Lent to myself and anyone who takes the time to read this:

1. Make the inside even more beautiful by growing closer to God.

2. Embrace making the outside just as beautiful as the inside because it is good for you, it is a greater manifestation of God's glory, and it removes a barrier between you and others you can influence.

And may the bits and pieces of our souls continue to be healed from whatever sin and damage has brought us to where we are now.

No Fear, No Boundaries --- a Return to Skiing

Two weeks ago, I returned to skiing for the first time this season. I had a great time, and it was memorable for both what was missing and what was found.

Last year was remarkable because I learned the process of how to ski. In about 13 lessons, I went from the most basic lesson (how to put on your boots and skis, go downhill, and turn in both directions) to skiing a double black diamond slope during an advanced lesson before the season was out (the most difficult slope on the hill). This year, I purchased a discount pass so I could ski at about 40% off, which makes it pretty inexpensive (about the cost of going to a movie with snacks) since I had purchased my own ski equipment with my tax return last year.

So, my first stop this year was to the ski shop. One thing I learned last year was that skis have settings where the boots clamp onto the skis (the bindings) that are based on the skier's height, weight, and skill level. The bindings keep the skis attached to the boots, and, more importantly, release the skis when you fall. Since my weight had changed by more than forty pounds since the last time I skied, these settings had to be changed. The people in the ski shop told me it was good I stopped there first, as I would have lost my skis multiple times because they would have released too easily as I was going downhill.

When I got on the snow, it was a different story. The first liftie (nickname for the guys/gals running the lifts) asked me if I was tired. I suppose I looked  little apprehensive, which I was. I just didn't know if I would be starting from scratch again and in for a day of falling in the snow, if I would pick up where I left off, or something in between. I got to the top of the lift and discovered that none of those assumptions were correct--I was actually better than I was at the end of last year.

Forty pounds lighter, it was SO much easier to turn. Even though my left side is still stiffer than my right (most people have a dominant side that is easier to turn on), I wasn't having to push really hard to start the turns, like I did last year. I went from the easiest slope to the next hardest in progression, working my way up to the most difficult black slopes.

Each hill was easier than the year before, and I was able to do something I couldn't last year--keep my body pointed downhill while gaining speed and while turning. I decided to press my luck and ski the double black diamond slope for the first time by myself (last year, I had done it twice in a lesson with my classmates and instructor). I skied it three times that day, each time without falling at all.

In addition to the fact that it was easier to ski and my form was better, I learned something else about myself that had changed in the past year. I wasn't afraid of the hills anymore. Mind you, at the very top of the highest slope, Ultra, my form wasn't as good as on the lower hills and I hesitated a moment before starting. But, by and large, I was able to enjoy the scenery at the top of the slopes and see more while I was skiing because I wasn't terrified by the thought of losing control while going down the mountain.

At the end of the day, I had fallen only twice. Once was complete inattention on my part, and the other was the one time I got going too fast and did too many short, tight turns in a row. What was totally awesome, though, was that first time I went down in the snow. I was on an intermediate slope and I came upon a gentleman down on the snow with a group of four or five snowboarders around him, who had stopped to help. He looked to be in his mid-to-late fifties, with the oldest of the snowboarders appearing to be about twelve. The skier was in a sitting position on the back of his skis, trying to stand straight up, and the snowboarder was pulling, trying to help him get upright on the skis. This requires tremendous leg and ab muscle strength, which the rather portly gentleman appeared to lack. He fell back in the snow.

I stopped to help and explained a different method of getting up, which involves being on your belly, face down in the snow, crossing your skis in a V formation behind you (and downhill), and pushing up with your hands and ski poles until you are in a standing position. He found the explanation confusing. So, I got down on the snow, copying the position he was currently in, and demonstrated. He was able to successfully get up and we skied together down the hill about halfway. He fell again, but was able to repeat the process and get up on his own using the same method.

I'll never forget what he said when he was trying to get up the first time. He said that, "Thirty years ago, the boots were more flexible, and it was easier to get up by standing straight up." I agreed with him that the boots were more flexible at that time (because I hear they were), but I also wondered if, just maybe, he might have been more flexible thirty years ago, too. Regardless, I had taught him a skill that helped him out, and I'm confident he didn't have to walk down the hill.

At the end of the day, flexibility was the moral of the story. I had learned that time had, for once, made me more flexible rather than less. Time, hard work, discipline, and the kind of mileage that built me up rather than tore me down. I've had a generation of the opposite mileage, the kind that makes you weary, worn, and sad, creates fear, and binds you within your own self. It's a remarkable change to be strong and healthy, to find the boundaries falling away, to explore this new world, and offer a helping hand to others along the journey.

Resolutions ...

One of my last resolutions for 2014 was to break an 8-minute mile, which I did just before seeing the last Hobbit film at a midnight showing on opening night. In the midst of an end, a new beginning.

I noticed at the New Year's Eve party I went to that my resolutions this year were a bit different than in years past. And the reactions of the other guests to hearing my resolutions were different as well. I got asked the typical question, "What are your New Year's resolutions?" several times that night. And, in each case, the person asking the question was pretty much speechless at the answer.

Well, here goes: I intend to break an hour in a 10K. I will run a 10 mile race. I will also complete a half marathon. I will do at least one century bike ride this summer, maybe two. I will make sure that my work allows me to pursue my personal goals despite new obstacles that are surfacing which are beyond my control. I will fully enjoy the summer months and everything I can now do. And in my personal life ... well, those goals don't rely solely on me, so I won't post them here.

I intended to and started the year off with an indoor triathlon this past Sunday. I was very happy with my overall performance, completing 20+ laps in 10 minutes swimming, 9.5 miles (19MPH or 103 RPM) biking on a spinner bike for 30 minutes, and running 2.39 miles in 20 minutes. I just found out I was 5th amongst the women (52 total), and 22 overall (out of 92), with total results posted here. I topped that day off with an 18 mile bike ride and a killer sunset.

I was humbled when I put together my Christmas letter this year to see all I had done physically in the past year. I could never have done that on my own, without guidance, and without the support of a few key friends, coworkers, and family members who helped with training, came to events, or just didn't tell me I was crazy (well, some did, but I really just didn't let them stop me).

I didn't realize the effect of everything I did on others until I got one particular Christmas card in the mail. It was from someone who had survived cancer in this past year. Someone who had known me for years remotely, and had inspired me a great deal in college and just after. The card read something like: "Thank you for the annual update. It was inspiring to see your progress and it gives me hope that I can reclaim some of myself after the chemo and radiation." I didn't know he was sick, nor did I dream that my "annual update" would be able to help someone in that kind of situation.

I know a lot of people were anxious to get rid of 2014. Not me. Not after all that was bright and beautiful and new last year.

So, here's to another bright and shining new year, with the promise of new falling snow, sparkly ski slopes, crackling fires under starry skies, tinkling streams, waving grass, misty meadows, startled wildlife, roaring ocean waves, and whatever other adventures await!

Running through the Snow ...

Today's run started in a flurry, literally. Light snow was falling as I began my 8-mile run. It was pretty while it lasted, as was the red-breasted hawk who stopped along the ICC path for a rest while I was running by.

It was one of a host of new experiences this year. Like going to ICE yesterday and being able to get down to floor level to go down the two-story ice slide with no difficulty whatsoever. And being able to straddle a fence and slip right over the other side in one fluid motion. Both were firsts for me.

On Tuesday, a former coworker visited work. His first word was, "Wow!" Followed by "Why did you change?" He asked if there was a boyfriend, his assumption as to why I would change so drastically. I told him it was a decision to stop being the way I was; I was tired of being overweight and didn't want to stay in the same place with the lack of mobility and limited enjoyment of life it involved.

On Wednesday, I was surrounded by a group of women who knew me from years ago. Their questions were more along the lines of, "What is your secret?" I answered with the truly honest response: "Eating less and exercising more. For a long time."

Some milestones are easier to see--taking 5 minutes off of a 5k time, which I did in November. At other times, the progress is almost painstakingly slow--losing a total of 5 lbs over three months.

The past few weeks, there have been moments of going back in time. On a trip out of town, visiting a Christmas museum, certain items triggered a host of memories of Christmases past. They were pleasant memories, but ones I didn't even realize I still had. Then I went to decorate a house with another family, who played the same Christmas music I listened to as a kid. Decorating with the children reminded me so much of the best parts of Christmas past.

This week, I was in a meeting at work, frustrated by the topic of conversation. I knew how I used to respond to such things, how much progress I've made, but also how much I still want to make. It was like seeing the flow of my life in one moment: past, present, and future.

Then, I was in a dance lesson. Learning to dance feels very much like the last frontier. I'm not always 100% at home in my new skin. Dancing requires a different kind of movement and fluidity than running, biking, or swimming. It's the final integration of all the successes. In that lesson, I was regularly struggling for balance after turns. For a moment, I saw truly why I was struggling so much--the image in the mirror was me 100 lbs ago. I realized it was only a temptation, a fleeting image, and a reason as to why some things are still so difficult. 

Sometimes the past tries to come back, whether it's a bad eating habit, a memory, or simply because of a lack of current progress. In those moments, the key for me has been to realize that it truly is a temptation and it comes from a place in which there is no good.

December 2013

So in this season of Advent, it seems I'm taking a walk down memory lane while fighting to make physical and spiritual progress. Both are wars, with many individual battles along the way. I've lost a skirmish or two so far, but I know that the approach of Light itself with help me find the path to a stronger me by Christmastide. And, in celebrating an easy-to-see victory, here are the year-after-year images of me in mid-December.

December 2014

Zipping to a Ball and Zombies

I love October, with its pumpkin scents and flavors, colorful changes of leaves, and cooler temperatures. This year, the month has had a surprising number of firsts working alongside some more familiar activities.

 

I completed the annual pilgrimage to Markhoff's Haunted Forest, which for the uninitiated is a wonderful half-mile haunted trail in the middle of the woods in the middle of nowhere in Maryland. It supports a charity that allows kids to have outdoor experiences they otherwise wouldn't. I have been experiencing Markhoff's for more than a decade with various friends and family members each year. What I had never done, and what I had eyeballed last year, but decided I wasn't in good enough shape to do, was the zip line.





This year, 50 lbs lighter than the last time I'd seen Markhoff's, I zipped my way across the waiting area, grassy knolls, and haunted portable toilets to my destination, an extremely slippery wood ramp (which was the most dangerous part). The zip line coordinator was dressed like Luke Skywalker and was a lovely young man by the name of Matt, who teaches kids how to use the zip line every day. He was very impressed that I chose Markhoff's for my first experience and that I was the only one from my group doing it. The guy at the end congratulated me for only briefly screaming at the beginning, when I took the first step off the perfectly sound and solid wooden platform into thin air. I was just fine when the slack disappeared and the harness engaged, and it was a delightful experience from then on ...



The second first this October (yes, I meant to say that) was going to a ball in DC. I had done a number of dress-up events while in college and one or two times professionally since then, but not in at least five or six years. I took advantage of the opportunity to try on dresses at all levels of dress shops. The most expensive dress I tried on was more than $900. The dress I bought was the only one that didn't need to be altered. It was also the only dress I tried on that made me say "I look good in this dress" rather than "this dress looks good." I even got updated makeup and other odds and ends to finish off the whole experience. I had a lovely time dancing, chatting with friends, making new friends, and just enjoying the live music and the atmosphere.

Zombies making lively music!

The third first was going on a Zombie fun run. Yes, I can now say I can run a 5K for fun. It was put on by the local running shop and featured volunteers, character actors, and makeup artists from Markhoff's. Some of the runners ran in costume, but the biggest treat was running around the Kentlands neighborhood with the yards all decked out for Halloween. We ran past many a garden graveyard, Grim Reaper, and inflatables of all kinds before being attacked by zombies on the misty lake path. A great time was had by all!

No, I didn't feel like a bag of bones at the end of triathlon night!

Not only that, it was the first stop on triathlon night tonight. I ran the race, biked 11.5 miles, and swam 36 laps before the pool closed. And then went home and had enough prepared food in the fridge to feed myself and a guest dinner without it being a big deal. Those who know me from times past know just how rare this is ...



The final first will be whatever Halloween costume I select, or that selects me as the case may be. I am going to treat myself to something I could never wear before. But being as the clothing budget has been stretched by the colder weather, I will be seeing what's on sale on Friday. Pirate princess? Wonder Woman? Lady of the Lake? One thing is certain, the giant pink gorilla costume is not on the menu this year, though it was an excellent companion to my nephew's Winnie the Pooh outfit for Halloween in 2010. I'm curious to see what the morrow brings ....

Do I Know You?

Tonight, I had another common uncommon experience. It's an uncommon experience for most, but getting very common for me.

I went to a different indoor swim center than usual because it was the one county facility that was still open by the time I got off from work. One of the big growing pains of this year was learning how to swim laps in Januafy. For some reason, I found this terrifying at first, even though I grew up with a pool in the backyard when I was a kid. I know I will never drown in any body of water unless I hit my head or go hypothermic, but still, swimming like that initially made me nervous.

Part of the concern, at the beginning, was that I was treading the line of triggering my exercise induced asthma regularly. The key for me to avoiding an asthma attack and three days of plague-like coughing is to breathe in a regular pattern, no matter how strenuous the exercise. Breathing irregularly was the enemy, and one that crept up on me with every lap until I got used to it. At first, I could only do 2-4 laps before stopping. Preparing for the triathlon involved working my way up to swimming 20 laps without stopping to regularize my breathing, which I managed just before the event in February (by working 4 laps without a break, then 6, then 8, then 10, then 15, then 20).

Tonight, I was experiencing a different kind of new ... trying to learn how to breathe every other stroke instead of every stroke. I quickly realized that I was moving much faster through the water, using more oxygen, but breathing less often. So, I wound up going back to the method of stopping more frequently to regularize my breathing again. A temporary setback for a greater reward, and quite the workout.

My focus was solely on improving my swimming. I paid little attention to those swimming around me, though I briefly noticed that I was outswimming the man in the lane next to me.

After my 40 laps, I was headed to the hot tub (er, "hydrotherapy pool" to be politically correct) when the guy who had been in the lane next to me said, "My, you are a fast swimmer." As soon as I heard his voice, I knew it. I looked at him and said, "You don't recognize me, do you?" He said, "Do I know you?" To which I responded, "Well, you should. I was your manager. But that was over 100 pounds ago."

He looked confused, so I mentioned work, and he came to a complete stop, then remarked, "Wow! Congratulations!" A 45 minute conversation ensued involving his construction work, what had changed at my work and in my personal life, and then turned to fitness topics. He was at the pool for the first time in several years because he was trying to get into better shape. He kept remarking how "it's no accident that I found you here tonight ..."

He listened to the story of my past 15 months, asked questions about how I got where I am, and started sharing stories of days past--the swim team he was on as a kid, his brother-in-law completing triathlons in his sixties, and how much easier it was for him to walk when he was forty pounds lighter. All of which had resulted in his desire to get in better shape and brought him to the swim center that night.

Before he left, he reflected on my role as a manager and paid me one of the best compliments I have ever received, "You were always fair and consistent. You were respectful and honest. You stood out because of that." We parted as friends after he showed off the dream car he just purchased and his new skateboard.

So, the common part for me is that people I know (and, in some cases, worked with for years) don't always recognize me these days. What's uncommon is that I have that experience at all, let alone regularly. I am always grateful for it because I recognize that getting here has been an act of grace and much hard work. It is also humbling to be a light for others and food for their journey. Rock on!