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What I've learned about depression....

10/13/2016

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I’ve thought a lot about this topic. The ideas of what I want to write present themselves, and then I get lost in all the intricacies and complications of trying to generalize depression.

I decided if I am to write a blog it needs to be based upon my own personal experience. If you read the rest of this piece, then read it with that caveat in mind.

I’ve learned a lot about depression over the past couple years. For one, I’ve learned it has many faces. It does not always look like the person in the commercials who sits in a dark room with shades drawn and tears running down their cheeks. It is true, it can present itself in the form of melancholy, lethargy and glumness. It can also leave you feeling uninspired, unmotivated and drowning in a feeling of hopelessness.

Sometimes, however, it can be masked in a facade of smiles. It may allow for enough energy to fake your way through the necessary parts of your day, but leave you with nothing left in the tank to do much else. If you are a high functioning depressive you might keep yourself busy at all times to keep the dark feelings at bay.

When you think of depression be aware. It may not always look like what you think it should.

Depression can be situational, but it doesn’t always have to be. You may feel sad because something traumatic has happened in your life. An important relationship ended, your health changed, you lost your job, you lost someone you loved; these are all emotional and life altering events that can contribute to feelings of despair. But many times, depression might find its way in without any sort of invitation.

There are people in the world who have suffered greatly, but have found a way to live happily. In contrast, there are others who live a privileged life with an abundance of blessings, but feel dejected. Several years ago my nephew, who comes from a blessed upper class upbringing, traveled to a third world country to volunteer at a children’s camp. I remember he wrote home and could not believe how this part of the world lived. What made the biggest impression were the children who had no shoes and sometimes no pants, but were the happiest children he had ever met. There are individuals in this world whose situation seems like justifiable reasons to be sad and yet they are not. And then sometimes we have no obvious reasons to feel disheartened, but we do.

This brings me to my next point about depression. It is not a mind over matter situation. My husband once told me “You cannot think your way out of depression.” It is not about emotional strength or intelligence. Many uninformed people believe if you are depressed it is simply because you refuse to look at the bright side.

Anyone who knows me and my personal situation knows I’ve had several legitimate reasons over the past couple years to feel unhappy. They also know I’ve done my best to find the positive in any given situation.

I’ve let myself grieve and feel sad when the feelings arise, but I’ve also tried to look at the ‘bright side.’
I don’t succumb easily and allow myself to wallow for too long in my sadness. I fight it every step of the way. I acknowledge my blessings. I run to gain endorphins. I practice yoga to find peace and strength. I eat healthy. I take care of myself. Yet, it might not always be enough. If mind over matter were a solution I would have saved myself many days of pure and utter sadness.

I know what joy feels like, and when I cannot find it despite how hard I try, I acknowledge I cannot solve this alone.

Therapy. I’ve went for years. I go to therapy when everything in life is in harmony and I feel fantastic. I go to therapy when I need to work out specific issues. I go to therapy when I need empathy. I go to therapy because it has helped me work through issues of divorce, mixed families, job changes, illness, grief and more. We see dentists for our teeth and doctors for our bodies. Why is it so difficult to admit we want to see someone for our emotional health?

Therapy can be an invaluable tool and a saving grace. Even then, it cannot always independently solve the problem of ‘why do I feel depressed.’

So if it isn’t always situational, a mind over matter problem or in issue to be solved by talking it through, what else could it be?

Sometimes depression is chemical. Sometimes it is hormonal. Sometimes the neurons aren’t firing and we cannot fix it with therapy, exercise and positive thinking. Maybe we need vitamins or supplements. Maybe we need to change birth control. Perhaps we are deficient of a necessary mineral in our body, like Vitamin D. Our thyroid might not be operating effectively. Our hormones might be out of whack.

Sometimes our depression is a symptom of something happening within our cells, not our thoughts.
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So if you are still reading this and you have struggled with feeling dejected, disheartened and sad please know there is hope. If I have not addressed your specific feelings, it is only because I am writing from my place of understanding.

And my journey has taught me if you are feeling depressed, see a therapist, get a THOROUGH blood panel done, ask for help and know you are not alone.

The sun rises and sets, and with each new day brings hope. You bring beauty to this world. You were put on this earth for a specific reason. You have changed someone’s life in some special way. You are needed. You are loved.

I do want you to know, personally I am in a good place. Otherwise, the apathy that plagued me in the last couple months would have prevented me from writing a piece like this. Like most people, I go through times I feel depressed, but I have all the appropriate resources in place when I do. I know when I feel sad and I know there are things I can do to improve my mood. I take the appropriate measures to feel better. I talk to my husband. I see my therapist. I have blood drawn by my doctor.

As I had predicted, a few weeks ago my labs told a story and explained why I felt the way I did. My hormone and thyroid levels were off and no matter how much I tried to think ‘positively’ and no matter how hard I tried to work through my depression with sheer will and grit, it was a battle I could not win alone.

I wrote this piece because my struggles have always taught me my best lessons. But mainly I wrote this piece to let those who’ve ever suffered from depression, you are never alone.


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National Suicide Prevention Lifeline 800-273-8255

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The Scale...Let's weigh in, shall we??

2/22/2016

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My relationship with the scale has been as damaged as any relationship can be.  I’ve hated that lying bitch (excuse my profanity) since elementary school when she first made me feel like crap.

Let’s face it, we step on her and she doesn’t always reflect our hard work or discount the fact it might be that time of the month.  She leaves us either feeling victorious and on top of the world, or so depressed we look for the nearest bakery to sooth our broken spirits.

I exercise.  I’m active.  I eat healthy 80% of the time.  Yet, I’ve avoided the scale like the plague, until this weekend.  I had to visit Urgent Care for a back injury I endured on Friday.  First thing they had me do was step on the scale.  What the?!?!  Why?!?!

But I did.  I can’t say I was shocked to see what the scale said, but if I’m being honest I was a little bummed.  I’ve relied on how I feel from the inside out.  I still prioritize that over everything else, but removing the hard, black and white numbers has allowed me to slip a little further than where I really want to be.

Many moons ago I decided rather than let her dictate how I feel about myself I removed her toxicity from my life.  I’ve looked to other things to give me a barometer for my physical health, like my clothes.  So many of us say…”I just go by how my clothes feel.”  Yeah girl, me too!!  But the crappy and at the same time glorious thing is, stretchy jeans and leggings have about 15 pounds of flexibility in them.
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The number on the scale looks different on all body types.  I’ve tried to let go of any preconceived notions what I should weigh.  These women are a great example.   They all weigh roughly 155 pounds and yet they look entirely different from one another.

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I’ve learned to look at myself in the mirror and focus on the things I love about my body and disregard the things I don’t.  This is incredibly victorious in my book and I still will continue to do this.  But, truth be told, I’ve ignored some of the subtle signs that my weight was slightly creeping away from me.

I went to the hair dresser a few weeks ago and said to her, “I hate my hair!!”  She asked me what I hated about it.  I told her I hated how round it was making my face look.  Buah ha ha ha!!  My hair wasn’t making my face round, the extra LB’s were.

So where do we go from here? 

Do we weigh ourselves every day?  Do we weigh ourselves weekly?  Do we never weigh ourselves and just go by how everything else feels?

I think it depends. I think if we can honestly gage our physical health by other measures and want to avoid the scale at all costs.  Yeah!   Go for it!   If some of us need  to weigh in every day to stay on track.  Then have at it! 

For me???  I think I need to be accountable once a week.  Perhaps if I had been weighing in weekly I’d know there was something wrong with my thyroid, and I could have tackled it a little earlier.  I’d also be forced to admit my sugar addiction needed a little intervention.

Our weight does not define our health.  Our weight does not define our strength.  Our weight does not define our beauty. I believe these truths above all else and I hope women everywhere will also believe this too be true.
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For me, I do need the scale to keep me a little more honest.  Just like I’ve learned to change the way I look at myself in the mirror, and I’ve learned to change my relationship with food, I will learn to change my relationship with 'just the messenger' who doesn't always tell the whole truth, but usually has good intentions.
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Meditation and Peanut Butter Fingers

12/5/2015

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For weeks I’ve wanted to make meditation a part of my daily routine.  There are countless studies proving the benefits of meditating on a regular basis.  Harvard conducted an eight week study of individuals who meditated for 30 minutes every day, and it was the first study to document that meditation actually changes the brain matter within the hippocampus.  Hippocampus is known to be important for compassion, introspection, learning and memory.  It showed….

Sorry.  I forgot what I wanted to say.

Countless studies have produced numerous benefits including, but not limited to, reduction in anxiety, stress, depression, help with addiction and an increase in attention and focus.  Group meditation is being practiced in prisons resulting in 30% reduction in recidivism rates and fewer rule infractions.  Meditation in schools are improving attendance rates by as much as 98%, reduction in suspensions by 45% and improvement in grade point averages as well as student proficiency scores.

The studies prove over and over again why implementing a daily meditation practice into your life is extremely beneficial.  And yet…days go by and then I will think “Oh darn.  I wanted to meditate today.  Okay maybe tomorrow.”  (Memory lapse???  I’m assuming so.)

So last night I actually created an entry in my calendar to remind me when I woke up this morning that I wanted to meditate.

I came up to my office, closed the door, pulled out my Hugger Mugger cushion and sat down on the floor.  Hopped back up to let the dog in because mornings are our special time together and his little face broke my heart as I closed the door on him. 

Sit back down, put on my headphones to listen to a meditation app timed for 15 minutes.  Settle in…ahh….this is good.  Doggie licks right hand…must be the peanut butter from my toast this morning.  I brush him away.  Okay…..here we go.  Doggie licks left hand.  Swat him away.  Mmmmmm that peanut butter toast was good. 

Focus on breathing…inhale….exhale….inhale…exhale.

This is going to be so good for me.  Adam said it takes him a while to quiet the monkey mind and settle in.  That’s interesting.  Oh geesh….let go of that thought.  Bye Adam….

Inhale….exhale…..inhale….exhale….

I have an itch on the middle of my back.  I was told I should just acknowledge the itch and be curious.  Huh…the itch went away…interesting. 

I’m going to write a blog about meditating.  Maybe I’ll write about my experience today…

Oh wait…let it go.  Don’t follow the thoughts.   Exhale those thoughts…come back to my breath.  Inhale…exhale.    This is nice….

Maybe I’ll title the blog ‘Meditation and Peanut Butter Fingers’….no that’s stupid.  Jesus….breath.  Inhale….exhale…..

Settling in……inhale….exhale…..inhale…..exhale….inhale….exhale

Ding. 
Ding. 
Ding. 

​Times up.  That was nice.  I’m going to do this again tomorrow IF……. I don’t forget.

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Pine cones and pavement.....

11/18/2015

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​The universe sure works in mysterious ways. 
 
This morning as I was heading out for my run with the dog I was contemplating whether or not I felt prepared to run the Seattle Half Marathon in few weeks.  My longer runs haven’t felt as strong as they have in the past, and then being sick this last week I felt even less prepared. 
 
By the time I arrived at the end of the street I had decided I would at least attempt it.  I might have to walk a portion of the race, which I have never done, but I would go for it.
 
The dog and I ran one of our normal routes.  Milo being a little more excited than I. I, on the other hand, was a little more tentative with my footing after last night’s storm.  I was particularly careful not to land on any fallen branches or one of the thousand pine cones covering the ground.  That is, until we were seconds away from walking through the front door.  We were across the street from our house when I saw the other neighborhood labradoodle approaching.  He’s a puppy and Milo is terribly trained, so I was prepared for mayhem.  What I wasn’t prepared for was the pinecone squarely placed under my left landing foot. 
 
Within a nanosecond of my foot landing on the pinecone, my ankle rolled in a terrible way and I instinctively placed my hands out to brace my fall.   Why is it we try to catch our fall on ragged cement with the flesh of our palms???
 
I can only imagine how ugly and ridiculous this fall looked, because the wonderful lady with her dog seemed very concerned. Bless her heart though, she stayed on the opposite side of the road with her doggie.  She and I both knew full well having the two dogs meet up would be a disaster, especially considering my dog was still harnessed to the leash wrapped around my waist.  I sat and cried for a few moments, until I was able to call my husband to help me into the house.  There are many times I am aware of my size compared to his, and asking him to help me off the ground this morning was no exception.  I did my best limit using him for support.  The last thing we needed was for me to cause him a back injury.   He was wonderful though.  He helped me get my ankle elevated and on ice, fed me some Alieve and ran to the store for other medical items.
 
I’ve been in bed the entire day elevating my leg with ice and compression.  It feels loads better than it did right after it happened, but I think the race is out of the question.  I’m okay with this.  I just want to be sure there aren't any long term effects from a stupid pine cone, two adorable Labradoodles and one clumsy middle aged woman.
 
The good news, I FINALLY had time to write a blog.
 
You can always find reasons to feel grateful.  :)

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Jill's Running Tips....part deux

9/15/2015

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This is an update to my original Running Tips post.  For those of you waiting on bated breath…I have not yet crapped my pants while running.  There is still time though.

Because my knowledge is a mile wide and an inch deep I realized I had some more running tips I should share.

16.   If you get a side ache while running there are things you can do.  I’ve found ‘a’ to be the most helpful.

a. Pinch the side where there is a side ache.  If the stitch is on your right side, exhale FORCEFULLY every time your left foot hits the ground.  If the stitch is on your left side, exhale FORCEFULLY every time your right foot hits the ground.  Continue this until the side ache is less painful or entirely gone.

b.  Run with your hands on top of your head with your elbows pulled back and breathe deeply.

c.   Stop running and bend sideways.  Bend to the left if the side ache is on the right or bend to the right if the side ache is on the left.

d.  If it continues, give up.  Hurry home and google ‘side ache’.  Then lie in bed for the next several nights convinced your side ache is proof you are dying of a deadly disease.

17. Don’t increase your weekly mileage too drastically, otherwise you risk injury. There’s various feedback online about what is a safe increase in mileage.  Generally an increase of 10-20% in weekly mileage is safe.  If you are already putting in some serious miles (hats off to you) then a 10% increase might be enough.  If you are running 4x per week….3 miles each time…you could add 2.5 miles per week and it would be a 20% increase.  Just be conscious.  No need to be a rock star.

18.  Heart rate monitors are helpful.  If you don’t have GPS on your phone or on a watch, the heart rate monitor is your best guide for letting you know if your pace is too fast or if you can increase your pace.  I'll be honest, I've never experienced the latter. Your heart rate is a great gauge for longer races so you don’t burn out a few miles in.

19.  The roller is your best friend.  It hurts so good. Your IT band can tighten up from a lot of running and can cause twinges on the outside of your knee.  Rolling out your IT band on a regular basis helps…a lot.


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This generally how I use the roller.
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I do not know what this lady is doing, but she could be onto something.
20. If you need a little more entertainment for your runs, this app is A LOT of fun. 

Zombies, Run!

Be forewarned, if you listen to it while running in the woods on a trail system you are not familiar with, you could become lost while outrunning the zombies.  You will then be forced to call your husband at work, ask him to pull up google maps and guide you back to your car.   Your planned 45 minute run will have turned into a two hour experience.  This leaves you with no choice but to visit Yogurtland on your way home to calm your fears of starving to death.

Bonus tip...Use the bathroom before your race.  Passing people while they wait in line for the Porta Potty is the best, and quite honestly, the only way I can move up in the rankings.


Before I bid you adieu.... this is a follow up to item number 10 in my previous post…  My waist band is from SPIbelt.  I bought mine several years ago at the Rock and Roll Half Marathon. I love it! 
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Jill's Running Tips

9/14/2015

2 Comments

 
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I’ve learned a few things over the years about running.  Nothing Olympic athlete worthy, but I believe they might be helpful for the runner wanna-be like me.

1.  Run so you love it.   Sometimes this means walking five minutes and running one.  Sometimes this means taking it slow.  Let’s face it, I will NEVER win any races.  And frankly, I really don’t care to.  The goal is to have the physical fitness to do an exercise no matter where I am, who I’m with or how little money I have. 

2.   Run consistently.  I’m not good at this, which is why I’m always starting off slow.  :)

3.  Buy good shoes.  It’s worth the investment and cheaper than a gym membership.  It’s important to have your running gait evaluated at some place like Super Jock ‘n Jill or RoadRunner.  If you pronate (roll your ankles inward while running) you need a really supportive shoe.  If your gait is neutral, buying an overly supportive shoe is just as damaging as too little support.  Good shoes are worth the investment.  You should replace them every 300 miles or so.

4.  Perfect the snot rocket.   If you are like me, your nose will run more than a prisoner on a jailbreak. 

5. Pretend you are holding batons in your hands OR pretend you are holding a potato chip in between your thumb and finger.  The idea is to keep your upper body quiet and avoid swinging your arms in front of your body. By keeping your upper body quiet you save energy for your legs.  You also avoid unnecessary twisting which puts stress on your hips.

Try to run like my husband….aka the gazelle. I can only run like him for the first 4 minutes or so and then I spend the rest of the time looking like I’m swatting at bees.  Ryan runs beautifully.  Granted, he weighs about as much as my right leg.  I guess it’s easy to run like a gazelle when you’re packing light.  

In case you are confused, I am the one on the right.  I know, we look virtually the same.

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6.  Inhale for three steps and exhale for two.  When you exhale while running you land harder on the first step.  Alternating your breaths will alternate the pressure on each leg.  This helps to prevent hip or knee injuries.  It takes some practice, but over time it becomes natural.

7.  Stretch on a regular basis.  It also helps to prevent injury.  

8.   Do a body scan while running.  When I’m tired and want to quit (which happens quite often) I do a body scan.  How do my legs feel?  Good.  How is my breathing?  Fair.  Okay…I can keep going and don’t need to stop.  

Always remember….YOUR MIND QUITS BEFORE YOUR BODY DOES.  Often times, I have to tell my brain to ‘SHUT UP!’  It listens about as well as my kids do.

9.  Maintain a variety of entertainment on your iPod, iPhone or Walkman (if you're over the age of 80).   Sometimes I feel like listening to podcasts.  Sometimes I feel like listening to an audio book.  Most of the time I listen to my hip-hop, foul-mouthed playlist.  

10.   Waist bands are the best.  With a waist band you don’t have to buy a new phone holder every time you upgrade.  My waist band stretches around any size phone, my keys, some cash and a maybe a small snack like Sports Beans, Chomps, etc.  I’d love one that held a burger and fries; especially if it kept the food warm,  but I don’t think Shark Tank has invested in anything like that as of yet.

11.   Earbuds rock! I love my earbuds.  They are the only headphones that don’t fall out of my ears.  

12.
   A minute can be a long time.  If you don't think a minute is a long stretch of time, you should try running on a treadmill.

13.   It’s better to run on an empty stomach than a full one…Unless, of course, you like the feeling of a heavy stomach and/or tasting your last meal for the entirety of the run.

14.   Only purchase padded sports bras.  Today I returned from my run and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.  I’m so thankful my neighbors did not come too close or one of my girls could have poked their eyes out.

15.
   Every serious runner has crapped their pants at least once.  By those standards, I will admit, I’m not yet a serious runner (in case there was any question.)

I may or may not let you know if/when that status changes.
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What giveth and what taketh away??

9/9/2015

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My daughter and I were recently discussing the various aspects of our lives that give and take our energy.  What activities or people make us feel energized and blessed and what things drain our tank? 

For my daughter she feels energized from theatre, singing and spending time with her mom (ahh….kiss ass.)  For me, it is walking/running outside with my dog, practicing yoga, spending time with my family and laughing. 

You know, those laughing fits where you shake from the inside out; your stomach hurts afterwards, but you feel euphoric???

We then talked about the aspects of our lives that leave us feeling drained, tired and unmotivated.  For my daughter it is walking to and from a specific activity and unloading the dishwasher.  :)  For me, it is certain social events, types of work, negative people and social media.

The point of the discussion was not to identify the different areas so we can eliminate the energy suckers and only participate in the energy givers.  It was to draw awareness to both areas so we can be mindful of what feeds our soul.  When we are aware of what gives us energy and what takes our energy we can be more purposeful in our choices. 

One of the yoga instructors at Wanderlust spread her arms out wide and drew an imaginary circle around her body.  She said, “This is my space.  It is my choice what I will and will not allow into my space.  I get to choose when, if and how much you will impact me.”

There will always be people in our lives who drain us.  It is up to us to decide how much and how often we will allow them in.  There will be activities or work we have to do that makes us feel tired.  Sorry my darling daughter, unloading the dishwasher will more than likely always be a part of your life.  There will be times of stress we cannot avoid.   When my parents were sick I did not have a choice whether or not I would allow it to impact me.  However, we do have a choice how we will take care of ourselves in all these scenarios.  Taking a little bit of time every day to do things that give us energy is rightfully ours.  We owe it to ourselves.

We deserve to recharge, no matter what is happening in our lives.    Our loved ones deserve the best version of us.  We can only be our best version if we take a few minutes of our day to make ourselves a priority. 

Spend one minute today thinking about what gives you energy?  What makes you feel proud and accomplished? What leaves you feeling blessed and loving life? 

Make those things a priority.  Do it for your loved ones.  Do it for yourself. 

You deserve it.


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Exercise...why we start and quit...

6/28/2015

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We have a running joke in our family in regards to Milo and Ryan.  Every time Ryan asks Milo to join him for a run Milo gets this look of panic in his eyes.  His 65 pound body tries to curl up onto my lap as if to say “Save me!!!”  

When Ryan asks him a second time Milo runs and hides behind the big pillows on our bed. 

How many of you feel like this when asked to exercise???


When I ask Milo if he wants to go he has a completely different reaction.  He excitedly hops off the bed and runs to his leash. 

We have compared all the possible differences.  Ryan only asks Milo to run when he’s heading out for slower/shorter runs so we don’t think it’s the speed.  Ryan lets him sniff bushes every once in a while and tells him he’s a good boy just like I do.  He runs the same route Milo and I run.  It has baffled us for the longest time as to Milo’s behavior.  But then I realized there was one glaring difference.  Ryan starts running the moment he steps out of the front door.  I, on the other hand, walk with Milo for about seven to eight minutes until we get to the park.  I need that time to warm up and mentally ease myself into the idea of working out.  I believe, Milo also needs that time.

How many times have we found ourselves not having exercised for the sixth week in a row and then decide “Today!  Today is the day I’m going to start exercising!!”  So we hit it hard.  We hit it so hard we hate every second of it, and then our body reminds us for several days afterwards how painful that workout was.  Despite feeling glorious from all the endorphins immediately following the workout, we don’t exercise for another six weeks. 

Our subconscious is a nasty little thing, and it is oh so influential.  The next time we think about exercising our subconscious will remind us how hard it was and how much we suffered afterwards.  And it just takes one little subconscious reminder to sabotage all of our good intentions.

I’ve seen this over and over again.  I’ve even seen it with my own kids.  Bless my daughter’s heart.  She wanted to head out for a run one day and decided she would do walking lunges for a very long stretch on the way back.  She couldn’t walk normal for days, and I’m pretty sure that’s the last time she has attempted any sort of lunge.

I think most people picture the Biggest Loser with the contestants working so hard they succumb to tears and vomiting.  They believe this is the only way to have an effective workout, but I’m telling you right now exercise does not need to be like that for it to be effective.  In fact, I guarantee if you try and start with that level of intensity you will more than likely fail.

You just need to pick something you enjoy, start out slow and be consistent.   You can walk, run, swim, dance, Zumba, bike, play tennis…anything…as long as you start out slow and be consistent.

My sister, Debbie, didn’t like exercise for as long as I can remember.  She would occasionally ride bikes with her kids or go snow skiing, but regular exercise was not part of her repertoire.  That all changed two years ago. 

She signed up for a membership at the YMCA, and started by using the elliptical for 20-30 minutes at a lower level while she watched shows on her iPad.  She did this about three to four times per week.  She told me at first it was hard to talk herself into going, because it wasn’t part of her regular routine.  But then I remember her telling me several months in she felt excited because she was able to increase the level and the amount of time on the machine.  Now, she takes kick boxing classes and runs lines with the rest of the class.  On her birthday, we found her at the high school track.

There are three things Debbie talks about with excitement and happiness 1) her family 2) her job and 3) her exercise classes.

She has never said what clicked and made her decide to join the gym, and I never really asked.  But the changes in her since she made that decision have been significant.  At first I could see it in her demeanor and attitude.  In time, the changes on the outside started to reflect the change she felt on the inside.

From where I sit, I believe Debbie has been successful because:

A)     She picked a form of exercise she would ENJOY. 

B)      She started out SLOW.

C)      She was CONSISTENT.  She picked a time of day that worked for her schedule and committed herself three to four days of the week.

If you are struggling to make exercise a part of your routine, you are not alone.   I would strongly suggest you ‘Do it like Debbie.’

She’s probably going to hate me for saying that, but I can’t say ‘Do it like Milo.’  Walking around with a leash around your neck would just be weird.

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Dead last...

6/25/2015

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(Side note: My husband competed in Ironman Canada a few weeks after that disastrous swim he and I shared together and crushed it...even the swim.)
PictureBefore one of my very first triathlons. Pacific Crest 2006.
Tuesday and Thursday mornings my sister and I meet @ 5:30 for a 90 minute conditioning class.  I’ve taken several different types of workout classes in my life, but this one is by far the best.  It’s challenging and fun.  The instructor is awesome and the camaraderie between the fellow participants is cool.  This morning my sister couldn’t attend so I flew solo.  I was tempted to skip it and take the dog for a run, but I didn’t.  I woke up to my alarm at 4:40, got dressed, grabbed my bag and found myself in the class before I was fully awake.

The class started out as it normally does with warm ups, lunges, mountain climbers, weights, etc.  Halfway through the class the instructor asked us to put everything away.  The great thing about this class is no two sessions are alike.  We never know what to expect.  “Today” he says “we’re heading outside.” 

“You need to run for about ¾ mile.  When you get to the bottom of the hill  you need to stop and do 20 squats and 10 push-ups.  Then sprint for 30 seconds up the hill.  Stop and do 20 squats and 9 push- ups.    Continue the pattern as you make your way up the hill until you finish with 1 push up.”  

“Once you're done run back up the other hill and return to the gym.”

Hmmm….seems tough but doable…

I tell you what, I can’t remember the last time I felt as tired and wiped out.  I couldn’t squat all the way because my legs were like jelly.  My sprint was more of a shuffle.  I didn’t even have enough time/energy to finish all the sets before he had everyone run back.  It was during my run back I realized….I WAS DEAD LAST. 

It reminded me of the triathlon my husband and I ‘competed’ in together a few years ago.  He was in training for an Ironman, but wasn’t very comfortable in the water.  He had tried to finish a triathlon a few weeks earlier and dropped out during the swim because he had been kicked pretty hard in the head.   The swim portion of a triathlon can be very intimidating and scary.  Everyone is thrashing, goggles are kicked off and people swim over the top of you.  Because I knew he needed to finish this swim to feel confident heading into the Ironman I decided to swim with him.

I’m an average swimmer, but very comfortable in the water.  Part way through the swim Ryan starts to struggle.  I tread water as he’s yelling at me to “GO ON!!”  I laugh now because the script could have been taken from the movie Titanic.  “I’m not going to leave you!”  I yelled.  “Just GOOO!”  He yelled back.  I put my face in the water and pretended like I was swimming so I could stay close by and ensure he finished. 

When we exited the swim the only people behind us were the volunteers manning the safety kayaks. 

I was an average swimmer, below average cyclist and a below average runner. 

Ryan was a below average swimmer, above average cyclist and an above average runner. 

After stripping off our wetsuits Ryan hopped on his bike and TOOK OFF. 

I was okay with this until I was nearing the end of the run.   A few of the little boys handing out water at some aid stations asked me a few different times “Are you the last one??” 

If you have never experienced coming in dead last, you should.  Sign up for a run, a spelling bee, a dance competition, a karaoke competition…anything you know you will not be good at.  It’s not about being humbled.  It’s about seeing the best and worst sides of yourself in those moments.  What do you tell yourself?  How do you move forward?  Are you defeated or are you inspired for change? 

Myself?  I turn inward.  I start to crumble.  The voices in my head are similar to the voices of mean girls on the playground.   “You’re so slow. You’ll always be slow.”  “You’re pathetic.” “You’re chubby and out of shape.  How embarrassing!”  “Good thing your sister wasn’t here so you didn’t hold her back.”  I would never say these mean things to a friend, to my sister, to my children, yet I’m berating myself over and over again.

As I ran back to the gym the negative thoughts were multiplying like weeds inside me.  They were feeding off of each other and growing like wild fire.  I could see the 2nd to last person way off into the distance and I remembered how I had almost skipped.  I had almost skipped class this morning, but didn’t.   It was in  that moment there was a shift in my thoughts. 

I started to think of the positives.   I might have been last in the group of people who did the exercise, but I was faster than the group of people who decided to opt out and never start.  I was faster than the large part of me who wanted to stay in bed and hit snooze another 20 times. 

I started to acknowledge my thoughts and their power.  With every negative thought, I countered with a positive.  “You made it to class even though you didn’t want to.”  “You bust your ass in these classes and don’t give up.”  “You did a great thing for your body this morning.”  “You were faster than everyone else who’s still sleeping”.  

This continued on while I got ready in the locker room and as I drove to work.  It was almost…almost as exhausting as the workout itself.   I started to greet the negative thoughts sort of ridiculously. “Oh hello.   I’ve been expecting you!”  As the negative thought would try to sneak its way in, I would counter it and then dismiss it.

Our mind is a dangerous, dangerous place.  If we feed it with negativity it will breed discouragement and unhappiness.    It’s a battle.  A tough battle.  Especially when some of our beliefs have thick roots that planted themselves long ago. 

Acknowledge your thoughts and beliefs.  Determine if they serve you.  If they are negative don’t continue to feed it.   Counter it and crush it.

Lastly, just because I love and trust you, I’ve included this masterpiece taken of me finishing my very first triathlon.  It doesn’t get much better than this.  B.E.A.U.T.I.F.U.L.  If you have a race photo you’d like to share, do so in the Facebook comments. We all need to get a little real up in here.

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My sister sent this to me in 2006 when internet connections were slightly faster than dial up speed. The picture loaded excruciatingly slow starting at the top of the picture, one millimeter at a time until, eventually, it filled my entire computer screen. The subject line of her email said "Enjoy!"
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Body Dysmorphia...I will love my body when....

6/1/2015

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I've had some form of body dysmorphia for as long as I can remember.

Body dysmorphia is known as a disorder in which one believes their own appearance is defective and is worthy of being hidden or fixed. It's a belief that manifests itself into manipulative and intrusive thought processes, ultimately preventing us from loving and accepting the way we look.

My earliest memory of body dysmorphia took place during the Presidential Fitness Test in elementary school.   Everyone had to line up so the PE teacher could take our weight.  The number wasn't yelled aloud, but it might as well have been.  As soon as you stepped off the scale everyone asked "How much did you weigh?"  Each girl ahead of me weighed 86, 75, 80 pounds. I remember feeling so ashamed my number said 102.  That afternoon I sat next to my childhood friend as we rode home on the school bus and all I could think about was the difference in the width of our thighs as our legs rested on the seat of the school bus.   As a little girl I began comparing myself to every other little girl to determine whether or not I was fat. Even going so far as to compare myself against my little sister who is three years my junior.  No one pointed out I was the second tallest girl in the class so of course I'm going to weigh more.  No one told me I may have been a little further along in development than most of my peers.  No one had a clue I needed reassurance I wasn't fat just because I wore bigger sizes than my sister.    All I saw were thighs that were bigger than my peers and a weight that was 15 to 20 pounds heavier.  I look at this little girl in these pictures and I think she's beautiful.  She looks fit and healthy.  But inside, she was picking apart every beautiful thing and continuously telling herself she would love her body when....


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From that moment forward this was the silent message I told myself.  I will love my body when I weigh 145 pounds.  I will love my body when I no longer have a little pouch on my lower abdomen.  I will love my body when I don't have any cellulite on my thighs.  I will love my body when my arms don't wave when I do.

The unhealthy body image of myself continued from elementary school through junior high when I was called waddles because my rear end 'waddled' when I walked.  It was shortly thereafter I starved myself for days until my feet turned blue and my mom made me watch a documentary on Karen Carpenter and her struggle with anorexia.  My body dysmorphia continued through high school when I felt uncomfortable in my drill uniform, cheer uniform and the clothes I wore every other day of the week.  During my high school years I wavered between 135-142 pounds.  I wasn't 110 pounds like some of my peers, but I was not overweight.  I was incredibly active, fit and healthy.    At the time though, that didn't matter. What mattered was the little roll I carried in my lower abdomen.  The lower roll that was blamed for all my unhappiness with my body.  If only that roll disappeared I might like the way I look.  As clear as I can still hear my self-talk during that time, I can also distinctly remember being called "thick".  Someone saw my picture in the yearbook and didn't realize that one simple word would stick with me until this day.

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At some point in my life I changed from being the little girl who felt beautiful in her cheer uniform to the teen who felt ashamed and disgusted.
As my personal disgust with myself increased, so did my obsession with food. Food started to hold as much power over me as my self-destructive thoughts. I starved. I binged.  I purged.  The more I hated my body, the bigger I grew in size.  I hated myself, and with every piece of food I ate I hated myself more.  Yet, it was this strange dichotomy of feelings.  Food made me feel miserable and happy all at the same time.  As I grew in size my dysmorphia changed form.  I didn't realize I was gaining weight.  I did not see myself getting bigger.  It did not register I was continuously outgrowing my wardrobe.  I certainly didn't step on the scale, and I most definitely did not pose for pictures.

It wasn't until I weighed 250 pounds and I was celebrating one of the most special days of my life, I finally acknowledged my size and my unhappiness. It was a beautiful April day and I was the maid of honor in my sister's wedding.  I stood at her side on a day in which memories and the pictures will last forever.  It was on that day I accepted the truth of where I was...with my body and with my heart.  The Spanx I wore underneath my bridesmaid dress could not camouflage and hide everything.   I was unhappy and ready to change.

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Luckily, I had the wherewithal to approach my weight loss with patience and the commitment to change my habits forever.  I wanted to live fit and healthy for the rest of my life, not just for a few months.

I lost a lot of weight over the years with healthy eating and exercise.  I've learned so much about health and nutrition during the process.  However, I never learned the most important part of healthy living.  I never learned how to turn off the negative thought process and the damaging self-talk.  Throughout my entire journey I still told myself ...'I will love my body when....'

My journey of weight loss began as it does for most people...with a vision and a number.  In my case my number was 145.  In many ways that number perpetuated my dysmorphia issues and prevented me from reaching true appreciation and self-love.

My body has been so patient with me and everything I have put it through over the years.  It has loved me even when I haven't loved it.  It has allowed me to run several half marathons...even participate in a half ironman. My body gave me strength when I needed to carry my mom to the bathroom when she was too weak to do so.   My body allows me to wake up early in the morning and hold my own in a fitness class consisting of 75% males.  It has allowed me to practice yoga and play with my kids.   As repayment I've criticized it over and over again.

Recently I had my body composition tested.  My lean body mass (muscle, bones and organs) weighs 133 pounds.  That goal of 145 I set for myself years ago will probably never happen.  I mean, I guess it could if I lost some of my muscle and only ate vegetables and proteins, but my life is about balance.  It's about eating cake on birthdays and having a glass of wine on the weekends.  It's about healthy choices 90% of time.

We aren't puzzle pieces made to fit into this ideal picture we created for ourselves.  We are special beings who should honor our health from the inside out.  By eating healthy.  By staying active.  By speaking kindly to ourselves. And by accepting the imperfections that make us perfect.

At 10 I told myself I would love my body when I weighed the same as my peers.
At 18 I told myself I would love my body when I didn't have a roll on my tummy.
At 29 I told myself I would love my body when I weighed 145 pounds.
At 39 I pulled at the rolls that peeked out over my jeans and picked at the underbelly of my arms.  I told myself I would love my body when I could...just...get...rid...of...these...little...areas.
And then I turned 40....

At 40 years old I pulled out pictures of myself taken years ago and found myself wishing I could look like I did back then.

I've wasted so much time not loving and appreciating my health.  There are people all over this world who would give anything to be able to walk up the stairs without pain or get up out of bed without a chemotherapy port stuck to their chest.  

My goal for my forties is NOT to have legs like J.Lo or arms like Madonna, but to maximize my health from the inside out.  My goal is to eat healthy, exercise and talk to myself kindly.  Instead of seeing cellulite on the back of my legs, I will see legs that allow me to walk and run with my family.  I will spend my 40's thanking my body for its patience and what I've put it through all these years.  I will stop waiting to love my body when......  

My goal for my 40's.... is to love and honor the body I have now.


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