My Workouts and Running

Hello readers. Please stop by sometime to say "hi". I'd love to hear from you.

Flashback

I remember back in grade school during gym class they would have us to the fitness tests and run a mile. I hated running except for when I was playing sports where I was doing it for a purpose. My gym coach would tell me to run so I would run the curves and walk the straights of each lap. I always finished in 15 minutes or so. Never liked it!

I played sports up until high school. I tried out for Pattonville's freshman soccer team. I didn't make the first cut. It was hard. Had I known what to expect maybe I would have trained for the tryouts. From that point on I never thought I would be good enough to try out for any other sport unless it was just for fun.

After high school I went to the gym with my boyfriend (who is now my husband). I just went because it was something to do and something we did together. We were members of 24 hour fitness and I loved it there. I would go in, change, stretch, do some ab work and then head to the treadmill or elliptical. I would do about 1-2 hours of cardio depending on the night and then I would move to the machines to do upper body or lower body strength exercises. Then on occasion we would go in the sauna, hot tub, or steam room after our workouts. It was fun to me. Without realizing it I got myself down to 125-135lbs. If I remember correct, when I joined the gym and the trainer was showing me around, he weighed me and I was at 140. Not heavy but not toned. So if I had only known that I could just keep doing that, I wouldn't have gotten where I am today. Well, there was also the very expensive monthly price to go to the gym. So there ended my gym time at 19-20 years old.

On occasion I would walk or jog around my apartment complex. When I had roommates we would do buns and abs of steel together. But I never really worried about my weight or what I ate. I didn't know I was doing anything wrong. I didn't know I needed to change anything. I didn't know how to be healthy. I thought I was being normal.

Slowly but surely as the years went on, my weight crept up. I never went to the doctor unless I was sick. They never said anything about my weight or if they did I never cared or thought it was a problem. I noticed when I would go shopping that I would have to buy the next size up. I never thought anything of it. Believe it or not I just assumed it was normal to have to buy the next size up as if it was apart of growing up. I don't know if I was that naive or just truly did not care about my weight.

Growing up I was told to watch what I ate or one day I'll end up fat. I never believed it. But then again I always thought I was fat. My siblings were all and still are very skinny.

If I ever stepped on a scale the number never seemed right. I just didn't believe that was what I weighed. I didn't feel like I was that heavy. I was in major denial.

I always loved photos of myself and I always thought I looked good. It was like almost to the point of me being conceited. I had photos of myself and some of family all over my apartment. Until one day I started to dislike what I saw in my photos and just stopped allowing my picture to be taken. It just went down hill from there.

Sometimes I ask, Why didn't anyone say something to me. Like in a kind way that I needed to change something. I just kept on gaining and buying bigger clothes. I guess if someone did say something to me I must have got mad at them for calling me fat. You know, taking the offensive side when they were just trying to help. Even though I am sure those were not their exact words. Not their fault of course, it's all mine. But I can't help but wonder why. You know?

I was an emotional eater.
I was happy, I'd eat.
I was sad, I'd eat.
I was stressed, I'd eat.
Pretty much anything, I'd eat.
I loved food and food never disappointed me.
Food was my comfort. My way of coping. My way of shutting myself out from the world.

Then I am sure I had depression but never did anything about it until I moved in to our house with my boyfriend (now husband). I took medicine which made me mean and completely not myself. I talked to a counselor and she was no real help.

I had to do it on my own. Figure things out. After many failed attempts at weight loss and one success doing WW the first time (I weighed 205 then stopped because I couldn't afford it.). I am finally ready to do it. I feel like I everything is how it should be in order for me to feel so. I am doing it for all of the right reasons. It feels right.

So last year I tried watching my calorie intake and walked about 2.85 miles 3-4 times a week through my subdivision. There are some hills that are pretty steep so I did get in a good work out while walking. I also did Billy Blanks Boot Camp and Jillian Michael's 30 Day Shred. I was getting toned. I was getting small and looking good. I got my husband to start walking with me in the evenings on occasion, so we did family walks.

On one of our walks a car drove by as we were walking up hill, I think I was pushing Caleb in the jogging stroller, and they hollered "Your Wife has a nice ass" out of the window. Of course my husband didn't like that comment and I was a little embarrassed by it because I didn't see what this guy was talking about. But the comment also made me a little happy. Like, Yes I do have a nice ass. I have worked hard for it so thank you for noticing my hard work. LOL.

I would even lift weights down stairs on one of those huge machines that have all different types of ways to work out different muscles. I'm not sure what there are called...Any who...My husband would work out with me on those nights too. I was doing a lot. I had my mind focused on getting healthy and that was it.

One day while downstairs lifting weights, I said to my husband, "I'm going to see if I can run". He looked at me and said Okay. But the expression was more like, okay sure. Good Luck with that. Now don't get me wrong, he is very supportive of me. But he also knows me very well and I am pretty sure I haven't ran since I met him, since high school, freshman year. Well any way I decided I would see if I could run for 5 minutes. I started off and it wasn't too bad until after about 1:30...It was hard to breath. I felt like I was running with bricks. It was a heavy feeling, not a light feeling. I was sweating and gasping for air but I kept going. I didn't run very fast but I still did it. I finished my 5 minutes and sat on the treadmill to catch my breath. I am pretty sure I cried and I was so proud. I couldn't believe I had just ran on the treadmill. I really think I was mostly fearful of running on the treadmill more than anything. Then of course I was fearful that I would keel over dead from not being able to breathe.

I wanted to run again. So I would try to run a little longer each time I ran. I eventually made it up to 12 minutes. I looked at the treadmill and I was close to running a mile so I kept going. I was very tired. My whole body hurt. I was sweating. My feat hurt (I didn't have good running shoes at the time). My knees hurt. But I kept going. I finished my first mile EVER! I was so proud of myself. I cried again! I text'd my husband to tell him. He was proud of me too. I couldn't believe it.

I tried to run as much as I could. Even on my walks I tried to run for a few minutes (it seemed like a few minutes anyway) and walk a few. I would tell myself to start running at this mail box then stop at another certain mailbox. I really enjoyed it. Especially outside. I loved it! I started to get addicted to it. I wanted to do it all the time. I even got my husband to do it a few times on our walks.
It felt amazing!
It made me feel strong!
It made me feel like I could do anything!

Then the summer hit and it got hot. I stopped working out. I stopped counting calories. I stopped caring. All that hard work was wasted and my weight came back.

So Fast forward to present day...

I have been sick the past few weeks with this dreadful cough that will not GO AWAY! But I have ran about 10 minutes one day the past 2 weeks. I have walked a few times too despite my not feeling well. I wanted to try to at least walk M-F this week and yesterday didn't happen. So today I decided I would walk and run. I was excited, I couldn't wait to do it. I am not sure what it is but I feel good after and sometimes during.

I set up the TV for Caleb downstairs and I got on the treadmill (which is also downstairs), and started to do a warm up walk. I finished my workout play list last night and loaded it onto my husband's old ipod, which is actually newer than my ipod but he uses mine in the car. Oh well. So I had good music going and I felt good. I increased my speed as I walked until I got to a time where I could run. I bumped up the speed to 3.5 and set a goal for 10 minutes. I have no idea if 3.5 is fast. It probably isn't very fast but I don't care. I was doing it. I focused on the TV that was playing Dinosaur Train so that I would stay steady on the treadmill. After about 5 minutes I was noticing I was tired. Around 7 minutes I was start to feel sick to my stomach. So I told myself that I just needed to run 3 more minutes so try. I tried very hard but by 8 minutes I was pretty sure I was going to be sick. So I slowed my speed down and walked real slow for a minute. Once I felt better I increased the speed again, determined to get my 10 minutes in. So I started running again at 3.5. That seemed slow this time so I bumped it up to 3.6. I was able to run 3 more minutes before I felt sick to my stomach again. I was proud though, to be sick and still run. I was proud that I ran 1 minute longer than I set a goal for. I finished out my walk.

Also during my walks on the treadmill I have been using my 3lb weights. I work on my arms to the pace that I walk. I also work on the under part of my arms, where it's flabby. lol. I have noticed a difference since August when I started walking and using my weights.

My abs are pretty sore from crunches yesterday and my shoulders were a little sore from the push-ups. Good sign!

Coughing like crazy since my walk/run. Not good!

So I am going to keep up the pace of running at least once a week until I feel better. Then bump it up to 2 times a week from there. Then I will look into the C25K.

I am a work in progress!

That was really long...I guess I had a lot to say on the subject. Anyone else been through this before? Please share... :)

I had to share this...Too Funny and TRUE.

In bed, it's 6AM.

You close your eyes for 5 minutes, it's 7:45.

At work, it's 1:30.

Close your eyes for 5 minutes, it's 1:31.

Quote of the Day:

Ellen Degeneres: You have to stay in shape. My grandmother, she started walking five miles a day when she was 60. She's 97 today and we don't know where the hell she is.