"I Don't Remember"

I don't remember being sure.  Sure of my faith, that is.

I have long spent my life wondering what is truth.  You see, I know all the "answers,"and try as I might, I often had a hard time with belief.

It kept me up at night, even as a very little girl.

I'm not sure I've ever doubted God's existence, although there have been times I've wondered.  However I look around and I only see evidence of His existence.  I know we can't be here by accident.  I know there is some sort of purpose, some reason we are placed on this earth.  My belief about God is probably different than the one in which I was raised in, however.  

I felt guilty having these doubts and questions, and I never talked about them.  It's taboo in most Christian circles I've ever been apart of.  It only recently occurred to me that they aren't a mystery to God.  He knows they're there, whether I outwardly express them or not.  I have lately been in a period of doubt and questioning, of letting myself express those doubts and questions.  I don't remember not having them.

I don't know what answers those questions will lead me to.  I trust God has a purpose in letting me go through this, but I also wish He would just grant me faith to never question and to always believe.  That just seems so much simpler to me.  I think my biggest question lately has been, is there more than one path that leads to Him?  Even just voicing that scares me.

Anyway, there is one thing I do know, and that is my belief that God is good.

PS

Anyone seen The Shack yet? I saw it last night and it gave me pause to think about these things.

"I Remember When"

In an effort to write more, I am using writing prompts from Ann Dee Ellis, in which I am given a topic and 8 minutes to write unedited.

I remember when life was simple.

I viewed it through rose-colored glasses.  I was raised in a conservative, Christian household and was homeschooled.  I forget often just how good and simple those days were.

When they ran together one into the next.  When life revolved around my favorite events each week-- Sunday night Pioneer Clubs, Wednesday afternoon choir, and Friday morning co-op.  Because I was homeschooled, I lived for those moments when I could see my friends.  And the icing on the cake was going to McDonald's on Fridays.  Oh, those simple pleasures.

And then in the summers, when the days were long and we would play outside all day long.  Riding our bikes, making up games in the backyard, my favorite being "Underground" in which my sisters and I discovered an entire world beneath us. 

I remember when trips to Grandma and Grandpa's in the summer, but most especially at Christmas time, were magical.  I mean that when I say magical, because there was nothing like it.  I think those are my best memories from my childhood.  My grandparents knew how to make those visits so special.  I don't know if it was because in my family we didn't really do a whole lot "as a family."  For some reason, when we went to Grandma and Grandpa's, it really felt like I was home.  I miss those times more than I can even express.

I remember when that curtain between my childhood and reality became slowly lifted.  Is it bad?  No, but I do miss the simplicity of those days.  I don't think of them often, but when I do the nostalgia almost overcomes me.  I dream of one day having a family of my own, because I want to give that to my children.  I want to live those memories again with them.  I want them to remember happy, simple times.  Sure, there are things I will do differently than my parents did, because they didn't do everything right (does anyone?) but I want my children to have a happy childhood in the same way I did.

2016 has been an odd year.  One I won't be too sorry to leave behind, and I hate that I feel that way.  To look at an entire year and paint it with one broad brush of "Terrible" or "Amazing."

The truth is, 2016 has been lots of things.  Not just bad.  A lot of good things happened this year.  But I come to the end of this year feeling beaten down, weary, and ready for some sort of new beginning.

I suppose what it comes down to is I worked really hard and reached many goals this year.  And I stop and wonder, for what?  Sure, marking things off a bucket list feels good.  But to what end?  I have done nothing for my fellow man.  Nothing to help others.  Granted, I realize my career does help others, but even that has ceased to fulfill me in the way it once did.  I have lived selfishly and not cared for those around me.  I have invested very little into cultivating friendship and community.  I have simply existed, going from one day to the next.

I am looking for ways that I can look outside of myself and help others.  Make new friends, cultivate real and authentic relationships with people.  Isolation simply begets more depression and anxiety, which leads to more isolation.  I am done with that life, and I want to learn how to get beyond it.

"And when the peace turns to danger; the nights are longer than days.  And every friend has a stranger's face... Then deep within the dungeon cell you have to make a choice.  Rejoice"

-Andrew Peterson

I don't even know where to begin, honestly.

I've shared bits and pieces very vaguely about what a struggle these recent months have been.

I have felt... well, to be quite honest, I have felt nothing for a long time.

Only in these last few weeks by the grace of God placing people in my life, have I begun to feel a small glimmer of hope.

The brief moments of reprieve came here and there, but it was never long before I had to retreat back into my cave, away from the very things I needed: friendships, community.  I stopped being able to handle even very basic things like cleaning or cooking a simple meal.  Taking care of myself became a struggle.

I can't even place into words what is going on in my heart tonight.  It has been so long since I have really felt anything, and these last few weeks of whatever this is (softening?) have slowly opened me up to friendships and vulnerability and letting people see just how raw and ugly my soul is.  I have wanted people to think I am ok, and from the outside nobody could have known what a struggle was going on.  I have been going through a period of depression and extreme anxiety, and on top of that an eating disorder.

By no means am I "on the other side."  That isn't going to happen overnight.  I know that I need help for where I am.  And I am finally in a place where I can seek that help.

This has been one shit hole of a year.  I am not going to even try to sugarcoat that.  It's looked like a great year from the outside looking in, what with all the trips and races and whatnot.

If you ask me why or what has caused this, I don't know.

All I know is I can't do it alone.  And I'm not alone anymore.

I want to share more of my journey with you here, and I plan on doing just that.

Marathon: Finished!

26.2

That's how many miles I ran yesterday!  I can finally, officially say I am a marathon finisher!  My final time was 04:41:57.  While I was hoping to break 4:30, I am still happy and proud of my race!

It was a beautiful course in Leavenworth, Washington.  There were many times I found myself wishing I was able to just stop and take in the view and the beautiful fall colors.  On top of that, there are all sorts of trails in the area and I was just too sore to even think about hiking any of them today!

It was a hard race, for sure.  I always heard about "the wall" from everyone who has done a marathon.  That inevitable point when your glycogen stores are completely depleted, and all logical thinking goes out the window as all you want to do is stop running.  Many people say this often happens at mile 18.  And I did hit it then, losing my pace and realizing I still had eight miles to go.  But after a couple of miles I was somehow able to rally and pick up the pace once again.

Of course, I was still exhausted and tired and ready to be done.  But I knew I was still doing ok.  Then mile 24 hit.  Everything hurt.  I was slowing down and I couldn't bring my pace up at all.  I started finding myself fighting back tears.  I wanted to walk.  I knew if I walked I would not start running again.  I started trying to think of anything and everything to distract myself and nothing worked.  My body was screaming at me to stop.  The only thing that kept me going anymore was knowing that I would be so pissed at myself, after all my training, if I gave up then and there.

That finish line was a beautiful and most welcome sight.  I wanted to cry, although I didn't.  My friends were there to celebrate for a short while, but one of them wasn't feeling well so they left pretty quickly.  Races are often anticlimactic, but I was ok with it.  I trained for this marathon by myself, and I was happy with the satisfaction of finishing what I started.  Even when I reached burn-out while training, dealt with fatigue, worked long hours... I didn't give up.

Of course, we all went out later on for Oktoberfest in Leavenworth, and that was celebration enough!

I read recently an athlete who said always, always give it 100%.  And be ok with the fact that sometimes today's 100% is maybe not as strong as what 100% was a week ago, or a month ago or a year ago.  I gave yesterday my 100%.  I am happy and proud of the work I put in.

And I am ready for a training break... for a little while, at least!  :)

I've gained weight.

It's a fact and... It's ok.  A couple of months ago the thought made me cry.  Every bad thing I thought about myself came rushing to the surface because of the simple fact that I have put on a few pounds.

To me, the weight gain screamed to the world what a failure I was.  How out of shape I was, despite actually being in great shape-- just perhaps not aesthetically so.  How could I hate myself so much after talking so much about learning to love my body in all its flaws?

And all of that was true, of course.  But in a way, it is a little easier to love your body when your weight is a good 20 pounds below where you once were.  It's much harder when your body is slowly creeping its way back to where it once was.  Especially when that comes as a result of depression and loneliness.  Not necessarily unhappiness... because really... I can't say I'm completely unhappy in my life, even though I'm struggling with depression.  Does that make any sense??

Sometimes it is almost the thought of how others perceive me now that I'm here that has kept me down.  Before I went to Florida a few weeks ago, I felt absolutely mortified to think of my friends and family seeing me like this.  I actually attempted several times to lose weight before my trip, which only backfired on me.  How could I show my face, after finishing a 70.3 triathlon and running all summer to train for a marathon, and be heavier than I was the last time they had seen me?  Honestly, I felt embarrassed.

I don't feel embarrassed anymore.  I don't feel ashamed of it.  Can I say I love it?  Hell no.  But yesterday I did something in the arena of "self care:" I bought myself some nice, cute, and yes-- expensive (to me) clothes that fit.  I bought jewelry and new sunglasses.  No more hiding in t-shirts and workout clothes, because that's what I've been doing.  I'm tired of it.  I once had a wardrobe full of beautiful, flattering outfits.  When I lost weight I gave it all away.  As I've slowly rebuilt my wardrobe, I never really thought about the fact that staying at that weight might be a struggle, and one that wasn't really worth it.  And so I'm not going to be hiding myself in outfits that I don't even like, while I work hard to fit back into outfits that might fit me for a month or two.

If I'm able to once again fit into those clothes, so be it.  But the truth is, I'm exhausted.  I am close to complete burn-out with my training and I don't want to get there.  I want to keep loving fitness.  I want to enjoy food once again without guilt and without worrying about what it will do to my waistline.  I want to go for a run and not care about how slow or fast I was or how many miles I got in that day.  I want to just be.

Random Musings

Day shift life.  I have to say, it suits me well.  I have pretty much transitioned completely.  I'm happy to say I no longer need to take anything to help me sleep!  Which is a huge victory for me after struggles with insomnia for almost two years.  Since I've been off the sleeping meds, I've noticed my energy levels are much better during the day than they were before.  Yay!

As for an update compared to my last post, I'm doing better than I was then.  Not that I'm past it, but some days are simply better than others.  Taking a break from running was great for my mental health in some ways, but I think when your body is used to those endorphins, it's hard to not have that when they're gone.

Unfortunately this week my right achilles has decided to flare up for no good reason.  Well, maybe training for a marathon is a good reason, but it is extremely frustrating as I now feel I am at a standstill with my training.  I'm currently debating whether or not a long run is even in the books for me tomorrow, which absolutely kills me.  I'm five weeks out from my marathon, and at this point if I'm having to opt out of long runs I'm just not sure this is something that I should continue pursuing for now.  I'm not really sure what I'm going to do.  If the best decision for my body is to take a break--a real, prolonged break-- then I need to swallow my pride and do what is best for my long-term fitness.

There's part of me that feels if I can just push through the next couple weeks, which are the peak of my training, and make it to tapering, then I can worry about this issue after.  I pushed through my left achilles issue for a month during my half IM training, and although I didn't see many gains in my speed during that time, I still was able to finish my race strong.  Do I do that this time around?  I don't know.

This is probably sounding like the silliest problem one can have, but I'm torn because I have trained for 9 weeks since my triathlon, and so to just STOP is really hard.  I'm SO close and have worked so hard.  And so I don't know what I should do.

In other news, on Sunday night I went and watched the Ironman Coeur d'Alene finish line for a couple of hours.  Inspiring!  Seeing the emotion on athletes' faces as they approached the finish line was incredible.  I could relate to it on a small level from my half Ironman.  As I watched them finish, I felt inspired that maybe someday I will do a full Ironman myself.  I don't know when, but I know I want to do one now.  (I know... I know.  I said I would never do it.)

I'm thinking about 2017 and what I want to do as far as races go.  After doing Spartan a few weeks back with friends, I've been asked by them to do a Trifecta next year (do all 3 Spartan races in a calendar year).  And honestly, I don't know what I want to do.  I feel like there are too many options! Do I want to race triathlons?  Marathons?  Half marathons?  Spartan races?

Or do I want to just take 2017 to enjoy life with people.  Go on spur-of-the-moment coffee dates with friends.  Make last-minute travel plans.  Explore more of the PNW as I haven't gotten to do much of this year.  Go on hikes, go camping, backpacking.  Take care of myself.  Work on my relationship with food and my body image.  When I'm "in training" those things are less possible.  They take a back seat to a training regimen.

There's plenty of time to decide of course, but these are all things I am thinking about right now.  On top of that, I'm starting to see my time here in Spokane becoming more limited as I'm not sure what the next step in my life is going to be.

I've been struggling lately.

I had a moment last night that really threw me into sadness I can't seem to climb out of, even this morning.  I was scrolling through my newsfeed on Facebook last night and came upon a video that was "liked" by one of my friends.  It was a wedding reception, where a groom and his groomsmen put on a choreographed dance for the bride.  I'm a sucker for these kinds of things, so naturally I watched it.

As I watched it, I suddenly became overcome with sadness.  Yes, sadness for myself and for what I don't have. I get it, it's silly to let something so simple have such control over my emotions.  But to be honest, I have been having a really hard time with being single for the past few months.  A hard time with a lot of things, to be honest.

I'm depressed, and I don't even have the energy or motivation to do anything about it.  I've fallen back into old habits of disordered eating, struggling with my self-worth and body image, and simply hoping that these things will just go away on their own rather than actually doing something about them.  I feel stuck.  This week I have taken a complete break from running because between that and my disordered eating, I have not been taking care of my body.  I needed the mental break.  And I feel like a complete failure for this, after all the training and all I have accomplished in my fitness.

I am discouraged and sad about being single, and feeling like I will never meet a man who will love me with all of my flaws, struggles, and awkwardness, along with all the wonderful things I know I have to offer in a relationship.  I dated a guy long-distance for a couple months this past spring.  We hit it off really well on our first conversation.  Had so much in common.  Skyped pretty often, and finally got to spend a weekend together at the beginning of June.  And I think he met me and was completely disappointed and not interested at all anymore.  While I thought we got along well and had fun, I could tell that he simply wasn't feeling it.  I pretty much was ghosted after that weekend.

And honestly, ever since then I have just been so discouraged and sad.

Life has fallen into a very mundane routine since training has ended.  I have started my marathon training.  I knew it wasn't going to be easy but to be honest, it's turning out to be harder than I expected.  Training for a 70.3 certainly took up a lot more time and effort.  And towards the end included close to 30 miles of running in addition to biking and swimming.

So what gives that this plan seems so hard right now?  I ran fourteen miles today, pushing this week's mileage to 29, and I was definitely riding the struggle bus.  These long runs the past few weeks have been among my slowest-paced runs in a long time.  My mid-week shorter runs are the fastest pace I've been able to keep up in ages, however.  Either way I'm not getting discouraged about it, especially considering my long runs are on the hilliest route I know.  I'm trusting that I am building a lot of strength on those runs.

I'm definitely excited to continue training and pushing myself each week.  Although it's hard, my life does not feel consumed at all by this training.  It is still enjoyable, despite how hard it is.  I am unsure my body fully recovered from the 70.3 before jumping into training, which sort of has been a domino effect of feeling constantly fatigued.  Who knows.

I'm disappointed that I haven't been able to jump back into my old gym routine, but I'm not worried about it.  The prospect of losing muscle tone isn't something I want to be a concern or obsession of mine.  I know that I will eventually be able to fit that back into my life again, but adding that to my training right now will make me feel consumed.  So for now, I am happy with where I am at.

Ironman 70.3 Thoughts, Part 2

When I signed up for the 70.3 in October, at the time it seemed so far away.  A little over eight months was plenty of time to prepare.  I kept myself in pretty good shape over the winter-- running several days a week, going to spinning classes, and every Saturday morning doing a swim/spin/run session.  I stayed dedicated to this in order to be "ready" when the training began.

Around the beginning of February, I began to write out my training plan according to a 16-week one I downloaded from online.  Six days a week of training.  Two moderate run/swim days, 2 shorter bike days, and one long bike/run day followed by one long run day.  One rest day.  Yikes.  As I wrote it out on a calendar along with my work days, it began to really hit me just how challenging this was going to be.  I knew I could do it, but I don't think I had really thought about what it would be like (plus when I signed up in October, my work schedule at the time was much more triathlon training-friendly.

Training started out pretty light so although I was tired and occasionally lost a little extra sleep here and there, it was ok.  The long bike rides at that time were long for me, but they weren't difficult to fit in.  Long runs weren't all that long in the beginning.

Gradually over time as with any training plan, the intensity and duration began to increase.  Sleep between shifts was sporadic, short, and very poor quality.  I couldn't figure out how I was supposed to be eating, or fueling around and during workouts.  I wasn't halfway through the plan before I began to feel extremely burned out.  I would wake up after only four hours of sleep, if that, to go on long bike rides that I struggled through.

During that time, I started to realize first of all that working night shift was no longer working for me.  I also began to recognize that my body was not going to continue to do well if it couldn't sleep well.  Things had to change.

Once I got my sleeping habits under better control and then switched to days, things did improve somewhat.  But I was still finding myself feeling tired of this training, tired of having very little social life, and tired of being tired all the time.  I think one of the things I am proudest of out of all of this isn't necessarily related to race day.  But to the mere fact that I didn't give up when things got hard.  I came close to it.  There were days I wanted to quit entirely, days I cried because I just felt like I couldn't keep going.

For me to cross that finish line knowing I had done my absolute best to train and prepare for this race was the proudest moment of them all.  I have seldom ever found myself overcome by emotion, but after finishing I was completely overwhelmed.

I don't know if I will do this again next year, but I know I will do this again.  I gave up being able to travel, go on social outings with friends, getting good sleep (this will be better in the future I can assure you), among many other things.  I'm simply not sure I will be ready to give all of that up again next year.  I've definitely learned ways to not it for the next time which may help.

As for right now, I am training for the Leavenworth Marathon on October 1st  My first marathon, and I am so excited!  Four to five days a week of training with two whole rest days is so much nicer.  Don't get me wrong: the long runs are long and this is definitely not going to be easy.  I am not and never will be a fast or really good runner.  But I love working toward goals, and this one I am excited about!

I have struggled so much with the events of this past week in Baton Rouge, Falcon Heights, and Dallas.

I have so many emotions and thoughts swirling around in my head that I don't know how to get out.  Realities I am grasping as a white person in America.  For a long time I have believed I was sympathetic to the cause of Black Lives Matter, but the simple fact was it just didn't affect me all that much.

But this week, seeing those live videos of black men murdered has been extremely disturbing... and an extreme wake-up call.  It's not that I didn't believe that black people, specifically black men, face that kind of danger when dealing with police.  But I just didn't give it much thought because at the end of the day, I am safer for being a white person.  I have never had to be afraid for the simple fact that I am white.

It used to frustrate me when men couldn't be sympathetic to the cause of feminism.  I would think, "If women are telling you the realities of what they face every day as women, believe them.  Why can't you just believe us and listen?"  It's not a conspiracy of man-hatred that causes this.

And suddenly I am realizing the same thing about Black Lives Matter.  It's not that I didn't believe it.  But I was blind to it.

As hard as it is to hear about these things, to believe that my fellow man can treat another human being this way... I want to hear about it.  I want to listen.  Because as a white woman, I will never understand or be able to help if I don't listen.  It is not my place to point fingers and call this race-baiting as so many will do.  It is not my place to stand here and offer advice, to shove my opinions in anyone's faces on either side.  It is my place to listen, and to learn how I can help.  For my black brothers and sisters, I want you to know I stand with you.

Ironman 70.3 Thoughts, Part 1

If you've read my blog for any length of time, you probably know some of my journey over the past few years.  It was just over three years ago I made a huge lifestyle change.  I started small.  Eating healthier portions, cutting back on processed foods, and walking a couple of miles a day.  At the time, I really had no intentions of doing anything except for losing weight.

Fast forward to this week, and I completed a Half Ironman.  There's SO much that has happened in three years to get me here.  None of it has been overnight.  And the journey has most definitely been full of ups and downs, discouragement, and difficulties.  I will be the first to say that none of this comes easy for me.  I do not have natural talent and ability when it comes to running, swimming, or biking.  I can't tell you how many people have said to me, "I could never do what you did."  And if you don't want to do it, then I don't encourage you to.  But I want to say to all those people: I am a prime example of someone that could never have done this.

I hated exercise.  In fact, I hated anything health or fitness related.  It was all nothing but a reminder of just how out of shape, slow, and unhealthy I was.  I preferred to embrace my size and not do anything about it, because that was the easy thing to do.  I hated pushing myself out of my comfort zone.  Even when I started out, I felt embarrassed and ashamed on my walks because being a 26-year-old walker screamed to everyone, "Look at me!  I'm out of shape!  I'm fat!  I can't run!"

But I started somewhere, and with no intention of ever doing anything more.  And I was ok with that.  It was only when I moved away from Florida that I became a runner.  I think part of it was that walking was getting boring.  Another part was I was dating a guy who valued fitness over everything, and I felt like I needed to do more than I was already doing.  (And let me just say, that is the dumbest reason EVER to start doing anything!)  I downloaded Couch to 5K on my phone and started there.

Over the next year, I dealt with nasty shin splints, severely disordered eating, a stress fracture, weight gain and total loss of fitness, until I finally reached a place after my injury where running was possible again.  Bloomsday was a huge deal.  Next came my sprint triathlon, another huge accomplishment for me.  I set my sights on a half marathon in October, and was able to finish with a much faster time than I thought was possible for me.

My friend Haley had signed up for the 70.3 a few months before.  Being a much more hard-core athlete than me, I figured that was something for the big leagues and I would never be able to do it.  But something in the back of my mind kept nagging me, telling me this was something I had to do.  I was scared to death.  And because it scared me, I knew I had to do it.  Of course signing up in October, it seemed like a great idea!  It was still so far away, and there was plenty of time to get in tip top shape.  I would often find myself anxious for the "real" training to begin, although I was pretty hardcore in keeping up with informal training all winter long.  March 6, day 1 of training, loomed in the distance and I was excited.

I didn't anticipate just how difficult the journey was really going to be.