A Year in Review

Typically, I do my yearly reflection around my birthday, but considering I was peaking for Ironman training, among other things that kept my brain less than fully functioning, even if I had attempted to do anything like that, it wouldn't have been overly successful.  So, now at the end of the year, why not. 

I'm not one to make resolutions.  I never have been.  I don't need a holiday to celebrate something, and I don't need the end of a year to incite me to make any significant life changes.  But the fact that the end of the calendar year coincides with other events to lead me to make some changes is merely a coincidence.  I swear. 

In looking back over the past year, the first thing that comes to mind is...do I feel any different than I did a year ago?  Did anything major happen?  And my first instinct is to say...no.  I don't feel any different than I did a year ago.  But taking a step back, of course, the changes are there.  Was it really just a year ago that I was preparing to run 42.4 miles in the course of 3 days.  And a year ago, I was ramping up to my first Ironman. 

It's been a rough year.  Let's leave it at that, because re-hashing the failures of the past year isn't a positive thing in my head right now.  And would only cause more pain than they're worth.  But to say that I have learned things is obvious.  I've learned things about myself.  I've learned things about racing.  And beyond anything else, I have learned that being cold really sucks. 

But let's point out a few key positive points from the past year.

• I learned that I can, in fact, run 42.4 miles in the course of 3 days and survive.  When it comes to racing, this is definitely the highlight of the past year.  And I have a lot of bling as a result.  
• Not so much a learning experience as an overcoming experience...I started having fun riding my bike, and I lost some of the fear that having half of my face scraped off a couple of years ago gave me. 
• I have a long way to go, and an uphill battle all the way.  But I work best when I have tough circumstances to fight against, so I'm putting this in the positive column as well. 

In looking at the past,  I want to leave it there, in the past.  The rough training and racing days.  The thousands of airline miles I have accumulated over the past year, and none of it for a truly relaxing experience (except the one I'm nearing the end of right now).  The bad dates, and not really any good ones (bad just isn't nearly a good enough descriptor for some of the things I've experienced over the past year, but we don't have nearly enough time to re-hash all of that right now...nor should I need to).  The fun, the pain, the joy.  All of it.  Sometimes I really do just want to leave it all in the past.  Locked away for good, never to see the light of day ever again.

It isn't possible.  All of the experiences that I've had in the past go with me everywhere I go.  I can't let them weigh me down, as that would impede progress of any form.  But it's all back there, as a gentle reminder.  Some of it reminds me to work harder, no matter how tired, or cranky I am.  Some of it reminds me of the things I have overcome.  But it's all there.

So...what's next?  If I thought the past year was a big one, I think the upcoming year is going to be even bigger.  And hopefully better.  And I have goals, a lot of goals.  One of them is slightly dependent upon an email I'm supposed to receive on January 6, which could affect where I am 6 months from now.  But I'm still trying not to think about it too much (is that creating enough suspense?)  (It really shouldn't, just look at past posts)  I know that I want to get more comfortable in the water this year.  Not that I'm uncomfortable.  Ok, so I don't want to suck as badly at swimming.  And beyond that, there are race goals, personal goals, weight goals, everything.  But I'm hesitant to say I want to finish x amount of races before I can do y, and if I don't weigh z before then I'm going to be really upset with myself.  Nothing good can come from that.  I will do what I can do, and I will be as pleased with the result as I can be. 

Ok, so I finally want to finish a stupid Ironman.
I want to get into Law School.
And I really want to drop 30 (35?) pounds before all of that happens.

There.  I said it.  It's all out there in the open.  But one of the most important things that the past year has taught me is that you absolutely should set goals, and you may or may not accomplish them.  But it's what you do after that that is most important.  You can either lay down and quit, or you can get up and fight.  Fight for what you want.  Strive for what you want.  Figure out what you need to do to make it happen, whatever that may be.  But...Do. Not. Quit. 

I think it's obvious the path I have chosen. 

The Retirement Lifestyle

At the ripe old age of 30, I'm well on my way to becoming a full fledged snowbird.  Accidentally, of course.  It all started with my grandparents around 35 years ago.  They somehow heard of this community in the middle of Florida that was affiliated with the Free Methodist Church.  It was perfect for them.  It started off as a campground for retired folks, and over the past 50 years has blossomed into a somewhat normal retirement village.  And 30 years ago, my grandparents built a house.  As a child, it was a grand adventure for my family to visit my grandparents.  We were able to leave the cold of Middle America behind for a brief foray into the 80 degree sunniness that Florida tends to be in the middle of winter.  And it's a gated community, so my parents could kick my brother and I out of the house to play without fearing for our lives. 

When my grandparents passed away 10 years ago, my parents inherited the house, and thus the tradition of migrating South for the winter.  And because I needed a relatively cheap vacation getaway, I started visiting my parents while they were here, as they had visited my grandparents.  And as my parents realized when they picked me up from the airport Tuesday evening, this is at least my fifth year in a row that I have visited them here. 

Disclaimer, the previous two times that I visited here, I did just about the most anti-retirement thing possible.  I ran a marathon.  And a half.  So I think my days of having blue hair and driving 5 miles an hour are not in my immediate future. 

I think I truly started appreciating this place when I was in college.  And not just because it offered a very cheap housing option to 4 rather destitute college girls.  It's a place to relax.  It's incredibly quiet.  Safe.  And the biggest thing you have to worry about is my Grandpa's best friend coming to say hi at 10pm, wondering what we youngsters were up to.  And then the utter disappointment in his voice when we told him that we were going to bed.  Apparently, we were too boring for him because he was off to a friends house to play games. 

But that trip really defined what this place is to me.  It's a place to relax.  Where I can sit on the front porch reading a book, and waving to the neighbors as they go by.  A place with all of the comforts of home, without the cold weather of home.  A place where the clothes that I put in the dirty laundry bin magically turn up clean and folded on my bed.  It's the place where old men stand in the middle of the street solving all of the worlds problems  A place where I can help my dad hang Christmas lights while wearing shorts and a t-shirt, and go for an hour long bike ride and not break a sweat.

I have to say, I think I love it here. 

Taking a step back, and looking at things, I should hate it here.  It's a planned community (strike 1) in the middle of redneck country (strike 2) where you can go to the grocery store and see a man in a tank top (strike 3) with a tattoo on his left arm saying "white" and on his right a tattoo saying "pride" (strikes 4, 5, 6 and 7) (and maybe 8), and all around you see bubba trucks and Confederate flags (strikes 9 and 10).  With little to no cell phone service (we'll chalk that one up under the positive column for now).  And often I am the youngest person sitting at the table, by more than 20 years (most often, I am neutral on this one).  Outside the walls of this community, I should never visit here.  Nevermind the fact that it's 45 minutes from Disney World (positive column) and 45 minutes from the beach (negative, considering I hate the beach).  But aside from the fact that the actual town has way too many chain restaurants, it's not so bad.  Oh, and a really awesome tourist trap about 20 minutes away with the largest collection of antique planes in America (huge mark in the plus column, as I am a nerd and enjoy visiting places like that).  So, all in all, the area has enough positive features that I don't go insane. 

Plus, 80 degrees and sunny in the middle of December, yes please! 

I do think I would make a good retiree.  You don't really sleep in, but you don't set an alarm either.  You get up, and make coffee, without really needing to be in a rush about it.  Whenever you're hungry, you make breakfast, and read, and do whatever else you want.  And then, if the mood strikes you, you can take a bike ride, or go for a walk, or just sit around doing not much of anything because that's what you feel like doing.  You bake when you want to.  And you get to invite your friends over in the evenings to have dinner, or snacks, and play games.  (I totally cleaned up last night playing 5 Crowns, by the way). 

Actually, can't I just retire now? 

Oh, you say the minimum age requirement is 55? 

Damn, I guess I'll just have to wait another 25 years. 

I Admit It, I'm a Wuss

When it comes to being cold, only.  As previously mentioned, I have always been sensitive to cold weather.  Not that it stopped me from wearing flip flops in 40 degree weather.  Because I did on a regular basis. 

But now, not so much.  The whole hypothermia thing has definitely made me a wuss when it comes to being cold.  I've even been *gasp* willing to put socks on.  When I'm just hanging out in my apartment.  I overdress when I know I'm going to be outside for longer than 5 minutes.  I even brought a pair of gloves to wear at work because they keep our office somewhat colder than an icebox (at least that's what it feels like to me).  And I'm not even upset that I'll be missing a cold Christmas. 

This seems very strange to me.  But if it helps prevent hypothermia again in the future, I suppose I'm all for it. 

But that still doesn't mean I have to like wearing socks all the time.

The Healing Process

Ironman Arizona was 2 and a half weeks ago.  I've now been back to work (in my office) for a week.  Every day in the 2 and a half week, every single day, I've had to explain to someone what happened.  I have accepted what happened that day from the very beginning, in fact, probably before I actually missed the cut off, I had prepared myself for this.  And I also knew from the very beginning that I was going to have to tell people.  And that telling people was going to suck.  And I was fairly certain of the responses that I was going to get from people.  From my endurance athlete friends, they surpassed the anticipated support and comfort offered.  Occasionally, from my non-endurance athlete friends, you get the deer in the headlights look.  I've told them what happened, and they really didn't understand what I was doing in the first place, or what it really meant.  So then to hear that I wasn't successful is baffling to them.  They REALLY don't know what that means.  This is also, occasionally, amusing.  But far more frequently, it's frustrating.  I understand that people mean well when they ask about it.  But it's getting really freaking old.  How much longer am I going to have to answer this question?  Days, weeks...MONTHS??? 

In an attempt not to go bat-shit crazy, pull my hair out, or beat anyone who might ask me the dreaded question with a 2x4, I am instead using this as motivation.  Motivation in the form of "I never want to answer this question ever again, so I'm going to make sure I don't have to" type of motivation. 

I knew long before the race that I wanted and needed to take some time off.  Other than when I was recovering from surgery, I haven't really taken time off from working out, or at the very least, given myself permission to take time off...so I wouldn't feel guilty for not working out.  I gave myself 2 weeks, and then a week of transitional time (which we're currently in the middle of). 

The two weeks off were...somewhat fantastic.  I wasn't at home, which was fine.  I spent time with family, I ate pizza and cookies with great pleasure, and I had some very lovely wine.  I gained weight, and I knew at the time what I was eating was going to make that happen.  And I gave myself permission for that to be ok.  So what happened at the end of the two weeks?  I came back home, and felt like crap because I had been eating pizza, and other assorted yumminess and stepped on the scale.  My first thought was "huh, I didn't gain as much as expected."  Ok, so it was 4 pounds. 

I immediately got back on the wagon of eating healthy (except for one, well deserved evening where I consumed a mostly liquid dinner with two of my favorite people...and the following day where the fastest way to feel better was to eat some greasy food).  I even did my first official, structured work out this week.  And it felt great. 

So, at the moment, I'm feeling a bit of...what's next?  Where do I go from here?  Well, my winter goals of strength training and swimming are still at the top of the list.  And I need to make a more structured training schedule for myself.  Nothing super intensive, no two a day workouts.  Something manageable, but productive.  Any maybe throw in some stuff that isn't swimming, biking or running.  *gasp*  Maybe doing something else that  -

Sorry...my mind began to wander.  And I found myself incapable of finishing that sentence. It's purely to blame on sentence structure because I was thinking "other things that make you sweat" and in my head I was referring to cleaning my apartment (because mopping floors can be hard work).  And then I listened to my own sentence in my head.  And now I'm sure you're thinking it too. 

You're welcome :)

It's funny, one would think it's the physical trauma that your body needs the most recovery from.  And while your body does need rest, I often think/wonder if it's the mental recovery that takes longer.  I know I definitely need the time.  And I'm looking forward to checking off a few of things on my "when I have time, I should really..." list. 

Am I Positive?

Over the past week and a half, I haven't been able to write.  Ok, so I've been able to write, but I'll get half way through something, deem it crap, and discard it.  In the precise moment I let everyone know what happened at IMAZ, and subsequently wanted to be left the F*$^ alone...my friends and loved ones did the exact opposite.  I was immediately flooded with emails, text messages, comments, etc.  Turns out, what you all did was exactly what I needed.  [Side note: Thank you doesn't do it justice.  It really doesn't.  I'm still rather speechless about it all, so until better words are formed in my brain, thank you will just have to do.]

But the content of what everyone was saying to me shocked me just a little.  I still got called a rockstar.  And many people commented on my positive attitude.  In fact, one person mentioned the desire to bottle my positivity and hock it on QVC. 

Now, positive is not necessarily a word I would typically use to describe myself.  Being the formerly really fat girl with eating disorders has always bread more of a self doubt type of rational going on in my brain.  So, my insistence on not quitting until either 1) I got my chip pulled or 2) finishing isn't something I see as being positive.  I see it more as being stubborn.  And my willingness, in fact, insistence upon immediately trying again may have more to do with the fact that I'm 1) again, stubborn, and 2) already signed up for Cedar Point.  And in fact, internal positivity is something that I deemed worthy to add to my list of stuff to work on over the next year.  I can do this...I WILL do this.  You know, stuff like that. 

In fact, in the not to distant past, one person actually told me that I should be a more positive person and that way, more people will want to be around me. 

But what I will admit to is that over the past few years, I have gained an incredible amount of self-confidence.  There are always days where I feel fat and ugly and like I can't do anything.  Let me tell you, having taken two weeks off completely from working out and eating healthy has me feeling down in the dumps about myself a little bit.  Well, maybe not down in the dumps per se.  Frumpy.  I feel frumpy, and unattractive. 

But maybe, just maybe, I'm not frumpy and unattractive.  I was on a business trip this week for work, staying in the middle of no where in Iowa.  Ok, I was in Des Moines.  And most of Iowa should be considered the middle of no where.  Except for where this really adorable 19 month old lives.  After a long day of work, (and have I mentioned not only am I feeling frumpy, I am also sick with a cold.  Bonus points added to the I'm not so hot this week column) I walked into the lobby of my hotel.  And there was a huge group of guys.  And I'm a girl.  And I just walked in the room.  Every single pair of eyes in the room was on me.  My immediate reaction was to shyly put my head down and walk through the room as quickly as possible.  But then I remembered I was wearing my super cute new red heels.  And no one wearing super cute red heels should shyly put their head down and walk through a room filled with guys, whose attention is focused on me in that moment.  So I lifted my head, put my shoulders back a bit (ok, so I had on a backpack and my shoulders were already pretty much back) and walked through the room.  I may have even smiled.  Eat your heart out boys. 

In that precise moment, I made a pact with myself.  Don't shy away from the boys attention.  There will come a day when walking in to a room isn't going to turn heads, so you might as well enjoy it while you can. 

So where was I going with all of this?  Maybe, just maybe, somewhere along the line, I somehow became a rather positive person.  And gosh darn it, people like me.  You really like me.  And I can do anything that I set my mind to.