Fitness: I'm a quitter.

If you are tired of starting over, then you need to stop quitting.

Quitter.

I'm a quitter.

I quit writing this blog for so long that I forgot it existed.

The shame...oh the shame...dare I go back and tell you what I've done?

Gained back every pound and more?  Taken back to my rotten ways and laziness?

I'm glad I got spammed by some internet company looking for a quick buck off my blog.  I'm glad I got curious about why I created this spot in the first place.  I'm glad I feel ashamed of the progress I've lost because I quit working at it.

I'm glad because I'm starting over.  I hope it's the last time.

Fitness: Numbers Matter

Numbers matter here.

12: the number of pounds I've lost.

9: the number of inches I've lost.

2.5: the number of miles I can now run without stopping.

162: the number I'm striving to see when I step on the scale.

5: the number of kilometers I WILL run without stopping in my first race next month. 

1424: the number of calories I'm allowed to have every day.

8: the number of training weeks I've completed in my work to run for exercise.

4: the number of months I've been pursuing better health.

0: the number of sleepless nights I've had since I started exercising again.

Numbers matter to me.  They are encouraging.  They are motivting.



What do your numbers have to tell you?

Fitness: Brutal Honesty

I am 30 years old.  I'm married.  I work.  I had a baby. 

I'm overweight. 

I've fought off the poundage my whole life, and I'm really good at masking my wobble most of the time.  It's time to change that though.  So I'm going to let you in on the raw data. 

I got on the scale two months ago and it said:

185

The tape measure told me more:

Waist 35"
Hips 45"
Thighs 26"
Arms 14"

I was ashamed.  I've gained over 20 pounds, and kept it on, since my wedding day.  Back then, I was 162 pounds of muscle.  I was a gym rat.  I had nothing to do but take care of myself.  In my boredom, I spent an hour or two at the gym every night after work.

Then I married beer and pizza, and in that land, there is no gym.  There is only TV. 

Years of hard work have been erased by a handful of new and really bad habits. 

But right now, as I type this, my chair is only holding up 175 pounds of me.  It took MAJOR effort to get to that first milestone. 

And I've lost tape off of everything:

Waist 34"
Hips 42.5"
Thighs 24.5"
Arms 13"

Everything counts - every bite, every rep, every footfall.  It's like saving money by pennies and nickles, but after a few years, you can buy a playstation that way.

Faith and Fitness: Better Together

I came across an interesting verse this morning.  It struck me and stuck with me.  

It honestly got me through the last few minutes of my run.   

It was half a verse from 1st Corinthians.  To paraphrase, it said the body is meant for the Lord and the Lord for the body. 

The context of the verse is a warning against sexual promiscuity, but it applies to more than that.  There are plenty of times in scripture where we are taught to honor our bodies, respect them and worship God by being good stewards of them. 

As my body was trying to quit during the last two minutes of my run this morning, that was all I could think about, and it got me through. 

This body was meant for the Lord, and the Lord for me.  I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.  The Lord for the body, the body for the Lord. 

And soon enough, I heard the "well done" of my British trainer come over my headphones and I was so grateful that I'd taken a moment to read before I hit the pavement today.

I don't know how people run without the Lord to support them. 

Actually, I don't know how people do anything without the Lord to support them. 

Fitness: Milestones

I come from a long line of criers.

As the women in my family age, we develop the usual aches and pains, gray hairs and smile lines.  We also cry more...a lot more. 

The last time I cried, I had a darn good reason.  I cried for joy, for the joy and soul-satisfaction of reaching a goal that has been impossibly out of reach all my life.

I ran a mile.

As I realized I was going to reach that unattainable goal, and, yes, even exceed it, all I could do was weep.  Maybe it sounds silly to you, but it couldn't be more serious or significant to me.

I ran a mile.

Happy, Satisfied, Exhausted Tears

I RAN A MILE! 

It all started two months ago, when the elliptical machine started to bore me.  I was afraid I'd stop exercising, revert to bad habits and start to kill myself, ever so slowly, all over again.

That's when I ran across this terribly British series of podcasts, the NHS Couch Potato to 5K program.

I decided to try it, and I'm so glad I did.  I haven't gone straight through, and I haven't been perfectionistic about it.  I've kept my pace and approached it like I would a new recipe.  I'm following the instructions to the letter this first time through, and it is WORKING.

Fitness: My Beating Heart

This picture has been my facebook profile image, my computer desktop and my inspiration to keep going, no matter what.

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Besides the fact that this kindof looks like one of the Kardashians (something to which none of us need aspire), I have found it hugely motivating over the course of the past few weeks. 

I started pursuing my health with a vengeance about 12 weeks ago.  At an unabashed 30 years, I was horrified to find myself slowly taking up more space than I used to, ceasing to sleep, torturing others with foul and fickle moods and enduring terrifying heart palpitations from panic attacks.

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That is the very opposite of any kind of happy.  I was miserable.  I was scared, and I finally started doing something about it.

I took to yoga and drinking obscene amounts of water.  Cardio, pilates, weight lifting...anything to keep my heart beating regularly and restore my natural sleep rhythm. 

Thankfully, the advice we all hear on the Doctors every day at 11 and read in all the glossy magazines really does work.  Diet and exercise, diet and exercise and drink, drink, drink - that is the only way to keep these bodies really happy.

I'll work on mastering diet soon.  I'm only happy to report that my efforts to tackle exercise are going exceedingly well. 

I signed up for  5K race this summer - eek! - and I'm really looking forward to telling about my honest to goodness journey from Couch-Potato to Race-Finisher. 

If you're reading, I hope this gives you a little hope for your own health.  It's a slow, hard process to regain lost ground.  I, however, am living proof that even the non-athlete can succeed at slowing the irrevocable hand of time.

More soon on my experience getting back into shape...and no, I'm not there yet!

Faith: Dream

I have always looked longingly after others who do what I can only dream.  They inspire.  They humble.  They discourage.  My reaction to their success reveals where my true heart lies. 

It shames me when I am incapable of celebrating the achievement of a friend, or when my first reaction is jealousy rather than joy. 

Gratefully, I am starting to realize the blessing of those special few who have made good on their intentions. They motivate me without manipulating me.  Their hard work does what it should and pushes me to reach my own goals. 

I have no burning desire to run, cycle and swim through an Iron Man competition.  I just want to run a whole mile without inducing medical distress.   

I don't need to be the same size as my naturally lithe and winnowy friends.  I just want to be fit, to cease pulling at my clothes to hide my bulges and gaps. 

I would hate to be a body builder.  I do want to turn these stealth muscles into visibly toned power. 

I call this blog "A Different Kind of Happy," because I want to chronicle my attempt to fall deeply into the person I am - not the person you are, or anyone else is. 

This is happiness in the work of fitness, family, faith and fortune, and it is fully mine.