Wendy's Blog

2009-06-22T17:45:00.001-07:00

Mathematic Monday

I’ve been thinking about math lately. A lot. Runners tend to get caught up in the math of it all. average pace, mile splits, weekly distance. Marathon runners often experience acute exacerbations of math-mania. Since the average marathon training plan lasts 4-6 months, we have a lot of time to for mathobsession. We can even use prediction tables to predict our marathon finishing time based on shorter races. Or the infamous time-machine table that will tell you how fast you could have run a specific distance if you had run it during your prime running years.

When you really think about it, running and math are a natural combo. After all, as runners, we are measured by how fast we reach the finish line. Running is a fairly all or nothing venture—you cross the line before your competitor or you don’t. You meet your time goal or you don’t. So no big surprise that we tend to get a little numbers crazy.

As I reflect on some of the reasons I was attracted to running, I have to admit, one of the big reasons is the safety I feel with objective numbers. My fascination with all things scientific and predictable goes way back to high school, where I was a member of the Math Club AND the Brain Bowl. So no big surprise that running was my solution of choice to my newly discovered disease of Adult Onset Athleticism. As a proud aunt of a competitive dancer turned competitive cheerleader, I have witnessed first hand how the more subjective sports operate. How many times have I seen Bre or her team deliver a flawless routine, with few technical errors, only to be voted down by a judge on an elusive, ill-defined “style” category? Too bad for your team, coach, you picked a song that happened to be playing when the judge found out her husband was doing some playing of his own. That judge wasn’t seeing execution of style, she was planning another execution of sorts.

My own experience with less math-obsessed sports was short lived, but very powerful. Last year, I was trying to transform my body. As a result of my work with Precision Nutrition, JP Fitness, and a lot of support from some good friends, I became leaner and more fit than ever. One of my assignments during my time with Precision Nutrition was to meet a new fit friend. I had been enjoying Chelle’s spin class at my local gym for a number of months prior to the assignment. I didn’t know Chelle really well, other than to know that she was around my same age, and therefore, picked great spinning music. I knew that she participated in adventure races. What I didn’t know until my assignment, was that Chelle had also dropped more than 80 pounds and was successfully maintaining that loss. We were both at a place in our weight loss and fitness where we were searching for that elusive “what comes next.” We had numerous conversations about how to take our physiques and our fitness to the next level. Our gym is owned by an IFBB pro judge and his wife, an IFBB pro fitness competitor. They hold monthly seminars for figure competitors, and women from all over the country covet those spots to work with our gym owners. Chelle and I posed the question, “what if we do the figure competitor program just to see how far we could push ourselves, physically and aesthetically?” Neither of us really wanted to be on stage exactly, but we sort of had our own Barbizon moment-“Be a Figure Competitor. Or Just Look Like One.”

So Chelle and I took the PN assignment one step closer. We each agreed to independently evaluate the figure competitor lifestyle, compare notes, and decide the next course of action. For my part, I talked to several women in my age range who were actively competing. I asked them every conceivable question about training, eating, hair, makeup, stilettos. I even took a private pilates session from an ex-pro-bodybuilder who puts on a local show every year. I left no stone unturned. Chelle did the same.

I have to admit, I was intrigued. I particularly admired how these women felt so present and confident in their physical bodies. Even though they were working out, they took extra care in choosing flattering athletic clothing. I realized that I had allowed this part of myself to become dormant during the years that I spent in an obese body. As I looked down at my baggy drape of a t-shirt and standard, old-school phys-ed issue gym shorts, I realized that as I was gaining weight, I started treating myself poorly. I refused to spend money on stylish clothes, workout or otherwise, because I was convinced that I didn’t deserve them until I reached some ideal weight or size on a chart. I decided right then and there to start treating myself as if I were a figure competitor already. Even though I was still well above the level of body fat that would be stage-appropriate, I decided to start acting as if I were already there. I found cute workout attire that flattered the body I was in at that time. Funny thing, I actually started behaving differently. I remember the first time I saw a line of demarcation in my delts—I was wearing one of my new, body-conscious figure-girl tanks. I was doing those YTWL things on a bench, and I saw my arms in motion. At first, I didn’t even realize that the reflection was mine. You can’t get light bulb moments like this in a baggy t-shirt.

So I went back to Chelle, excited at the prospect. So far, my experience with the figure girls was a home run! I was so excited about reconnecting to my inner glamour girl, and I was all but ready to sign up for the camp. But Chelle challenged me. She had also done her homework.We both agreed that the training sounded fantastic! What self-respecting jock wouldn’t become delighted at the prospect of working with one of the most respected fitness IFBB pros in the country? Chelle’s main issue was the nutrition. When we compared notes, we realized that all of the competitors that we talked to were indulging in nutrition plans that were not exactly compatible with optimal health. The clincher for Chelle was how she was going to explain her nutrition plan to her ten year old daughter. I realized that I was indulging in some selective hearing when I was talking to those women. I heard all about the clothes, the makeup, the style, the bikinis, the shoes, the training. But I had conveniently blocked out the restrictive dieting part. And the time I saw one of them face down in a large bag of Lay’s the day after her competition. The more I investigated, the harder time I had finding a mentor that did not engage in dieting behaviors that restricted entire categories of foods for extended periods of time. Chelle was right. Did I want to role model restrictive dieting for my niece? When I really assessed the nutrition plans with my scientist’s eye, I saw large gaps in essential nutrients. Depriving my 45 year old joints of essential nutrition did not feel any more respectful than re-loading those same joints with the 80 pounds of fat I had lost. When I considered how success is measured in the world of figure competition, I realized that I didn’t want to put in all of the tough effort into training for a sport, only to have the competition be solely based on what someone else thinks is attractive on a woman’s body.

Needless to say, I decided to channel my math madness into splits on the track instead of grams of carbohydrate or the size of my waist. But my time with the figure girls was not wasted. I returned to the track in cute, figure flattering workout gear. I carried myself with the attitude of the figure competitor. I de-frumped my wardrobe. I even bought a pair of stilettos!

But I didn’t need those stilettos to compete this past weekend. On Saturday, I ran 11 fast miles with my pace group, in a royal blue and black running skirt designed for long distance racing with matching royal blue fuel belt, and royal blue lace locks in my running shoes. When I clicked off the GPS as we returned to the start of our route, my team-mates were only concerned about our overall pace, and not at all worried that I was looking a little soft so close to my competition the next day. On Sunday, I raced a sprint triathlon in a lime green tattoo print racing suit with matching skirt and snap in race number for the bike and the run. As I sprinted toward the finish, the race clock didn’t automatically add 2 minutes because my abs weren’t visible.

I realize that there are healthy figure competitors and unhealthy figure competitors, just as there are healthy runners and unhealthy runners. But at the end of the day, my presence at the Boston Marathon in April 2010 is not dependent on somebody’s subjective assessment of my fitness. My ability to line up at that start line in Hopkinton and run 26.2 miles to Boston is all about the math. So if you happen to catch the Boston Marathon on television, look for me. I’ll be the runner with the royal blue running skirt and the thousand watt smile. If the camera happens to zoom in, you might even see me suck in my abs and throw my shoulders back. But you won’t see stilettos until the after party.

2009-06-18T15:38:00.000-07:00

The Sum of Her Parts

Dissection of the human body belongs in the anatomy lab, not in fitness forums. Well, maybe it exists in the basements of deranged serial killers too, but that is a separate topic for another day. Before you click out of here, let me explain. One of my favorite fitness gurus, Leigh Peele, recently posted an article on her website about women’s perceptions of other women’s bodies. She polled 2000 women and asked them about their perceptions of the word “bulky” as it applies to women’s bodies. The majority of women defined these physiques as bulky:

And the majority of women, 71%, in fact, said that they would rather be “too thin” instead of “too muscular”.

Naturally, this article was up for discussion on a fitness forum that I frequent. Most of the women were celebrating our “bulkiness”—to paraphrase an old disco hit, “we work hard for the muscle!” One woman posted about her own journey as an aspiring bodybuilder, and how she sometimes felt ostracized because of her “amazon” physique. In response, another poster clarified that, in her mind, too bulky or “amazon” was exemplified by this physique:

The aspiring bodybuilder was quick to praise this physique, and wrote about her wish to be that big someday. All good so far, right? Bodies come in different shapes and sizes, and Leigh’s original article brought home the point that we all have different ideas about “ideal”. Ideal for one woman might be the thin, cover girl look. Ideal for another woman might be voluptuous ruebenesque. Yet another might covet the physique of a bodybuilder. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, yada yada. Until you traverse into serial killer territory-that’s when I feel compelled to write about it and subject you to my aimless ramblings. The aspiring bodybuilder went on to qualify her admiration of the woman pictured above, by stating that her waist was a little thick. HUH? The woman in the picture has a single digit body fat percentage. Sure, her hips are narrow, and she is ultra lean. And to have, visible, cut abs like that, you actually have to hypertrophy them! So if this woman were to buy into the whole idea of chopping her physique into little tiny parts, what are her options to fix her “thick” waist? Atrophy her obliques? Surgically implant hips so her waist appears smaller? Build even bigger shoulders and chest so her waist appears smaller? Dissection belongs in the cadaver lab.

To be fair, most of us are guilty of dissection. How many times in my own life have I focused on my midsection? Before I understood how to lift properly to build my best body, I would try to diet myself into some idealized shape I had in my mind. Focusing on my parts never helped me achieve my goals—it always resulted in chronic dissatisfaction. I love wearing my 5 inch platform Miu Miu wedges, because in them, I am 5’ 11 ½”, the height that should have been my birthright. But alas, try as I might, without the wedges, I am 5’ 6 ½”, and no amount of dieting or weightlifting will make me 5’ 11 ½”.

I think it is time for us to stop with the dissection obsession and focus on building our very best, healthiest bodies. And guess what? Our healthiest bodies are going to come in a variety of shapes and sizes—let’s celebrate the diversity! Some women will naturally be leaner than others. For some women to get superlean, they would have to starve, do steroids or both. Is that healthy? Other women might be very fit and free from disease, yet they are living in bodies that some would consider plump. Is this healthy? Healthy is a continuum—somewhere along the continuum, people can venture into the “unhealthy” side. Take the woman bodybuilder in the photo above as an example. At some point, she made the decision to cross over into anabolic steroid territory. Not healthy. What about the woman in the first photo? Healthy right? Well, what if she were maintaining that degree of leanness by engaging in dangerous diet pill abuse plus bingeing and purging? Not healthy.

In the end, we are more than the sum of our parts. We are whole, human beings who deserve to be seen with a wide-angle lens. Again, let’s look at our woman bodybuilder. Even though she might be making unhealthy decisions with her body, does that negate who she is in the rest of her life? What if she is a firefighter/paramedic? When she is first on the accident scene, and delivers the lifesaving chest compressions to the dying stranger, does that patient care that some random person at her last bodybuilding show thought she had a thick waist? Uhhh. No. What if she were a fifth grade teacher? When one of her former students with a learning disability walks the stage with her peers at graduation, does that student remember her teacher’s body, or does she remember her kindness, compassion, and refusal to give up on her like others had before? Chances are, that student is walking that stage with confidence, celebrating a lifetime of hard work. One could only hope that her teacher is there in the audience, proudly celebrating her student, and also celebrating her own newly discovered understanding of what it means to be confident on the stage.

I am not suggesting that we forego our pursuits of our healthiest selves. Living in healthy bodies gives us the energy to accomplish everything we are meant to accomplish in our lifetimes. Our healthy bodies allow us to power through life with purpose and intention. But I AM suggesting that we put down our scalpels and leave the dissection to the medical students and the serial killers. Step away from the scalpel, step toward the camera with the wide-angle lens, start seeing your body for the miracle that it is, and start living your best life.

At the end of my life, I want to be known for so much more than my thick waist or my seven minute mile. So in case anyone on the forum ever feels the urge to give me some unsolicited physique critique, just know that you won’t be heard. This body’s got her wide-angled lens-on, a well-known shield that protects against those who would dissect me into component parts. Every click of the shutter is one step closer to health and wellness. Every whole, wide-angle picture is another piece of kryptonite that dulls the scalpel of those who would attempt to shatter a healthy body image. Dissection has a place and a time, but you won’t be seeing any more scalpels in my wellness toolbox.

2009-05-13T03:59:00.001-07:00

The Power of Peers

I have a lot of respect for fitness professionals, I really do. Several have been instrumental in my decade-long trek from obese to fit. Today, however, I am celebrating the power of peers.

As a lifelong scary science girl, I started my fitness journey by learning everything I could about exercise and nutrition. I could detail for you the metabolic nuances of high intensity interval training versus long slow distance. I could discuss the merits of slow twitch, fast twitch, and the ever versatile undifferentiated muscle fibers. I could draw the chemical structures of simple sugars. I could detail for you the biochemical complexities of the various amino acids and how they combined to form the very building blocks of our bodies. But I was doing all of this in an obese body. Why couldn’t I take all of this head knowledge and put it into action? I was making it too complicated. And truth be told, deep down, I didn’t believe it was possible for me.

At just the right time in my life, I met Peggy. I was working out at a local gym doing one on one personal training. At 228 pounds and 5 foot 7, this trainer had me doing one set to failure of super slow reps on machines, eating 1100-1300 calories a day, and taking body building supplements, like creatine, HMB, and other popular late nineties, gym-rat-intensive concoctions. I do remember feeling really rockin’ strong when I would leg press twice my body weight for reps, but now I realize that I was doing everything back-asswards. No wonder I would inevitably “cheat” on my diet. I could have lost body fat on twice as many calories!

During one of my trips to the gym, I saw a pamphlet about training to walk a marathon while raising money for the leukemia society. My niece’s best friend had just celebrated her one year anniversary of being free of leukemia, and I thought this would be a great way to join the celebration. My trainer was dubious. He told me that I should not attempt to do a marathon until I lost weight. He said my risk of injury was too high. What I heard at the time was “you are too fat to do a marathon,” and the gauntlet was down. Game on. I’ll show you. This moment was the beginning of my fat acceptance phase. I decided if I had to live my life in an obese body, it might as well be a fit, obese body, and what better way to prove my fitness but to walk 26.2 miles while raising money for a great cause?

So far so good. Peggy was one of the volunteer coaches. When I first met her, I immediately classified her as one of those genetically gifted runner girls—she was in her mid forties then, with long, thick black hair that she would wear in a braid, gorgeous olive skin, and amazingly beautiful legs. At the time, I was struggling to maintain 20 minute miles on our walks, and it was barely even an effort for her.

Peggy wasn’t a fitness professional. She worked in an electronics factory putting together components. And she was one hell of a runner, often winning her age group. As I got to know her, she told me her story—five years prior, she had been obese, had a health crisis, and decided to take up running. I didn’t believe her. So she brought in pictures. I recognized her by that long, beautiful, thick braid, but otherwise, I wouldn’t have believed it was the same person. In that moment, I believed that change was possible. I could feel myself switch from scary science chick, overthinking, overanalyzing, overeverything to humble student. I wanted to know how Peggy did it. I wanted to be as lean as Peggy.

Fortunately, marathon training is inherently time intensive. Over many miles, Peggy became my mentor. I learned how she prioritized cooking, I learned how she fit exercise into her busy schedule. When we would go out to eat, I would watch how she seemed to effortlessly modulate her intake, and how she would leave food on her plate.

One day, we were on a training walk in my old neighborhood, and she said to me, “Wendy, why don’t we just run from here to that lamp post?” Said lamp post was maybe 200 yards ahead. She might as well have said, “Wendy, why don’t we jump off this cliff without a parachute and hope there is a big trampoline at the bottom to catch us?” I didn’t trust her. I didn’t believe that I could be a runner. Running was for thin people. Someday, when I lost enough weight, I would be a runner like Peggy. But for right now, my thighs were so large that I would get chafing just from walking. My feet were so stressed by the distance walking that I had custom orthotics made. Despite the negative head-chatter, something in me decided to trust her anyway and go for it. Those first steps, that brief fraction of a second that both of my feet were in the air at the same time--- the movement that differentiates running from walking --- was transformative, intoxicating, and literally breathtaking. I was running, but I might as well have been flying. I had jumped off the cliff, I was airborne, and I experienced a sensation so liberating. I finally believed that I had the power to transform myself into a fit, healthy, lean person. I was hooked.

Peggy carefully nurtured me to the finish line of that first marathon. She believed in me before I was capable of believing in myself. Peggy didn’t judge my external body and make assumptions about me based on my physical appearance like I had made assumptions about her based on her physical appearance. Out on the roads, we were just two athletes, training hard, swapping life stories and making memories.

It took me many more years before I was able to fully understand the things Peggy tried to teach me. I am just now putting some of those things into practice. I don’t see Peggy anymore at the races, and I often wonder what happened to her—maybe she moved, maybe she has moved on to another sport? I want her to know that the seeds that she planted in me a decade ago, are finally bearing fruit. After many years of trial and error, too much sunlight, not enough, too much fertilizer, not enough, I think I finally have negotiated a balance—just enough running, just enough strength training, just enough nutritious food, just enough rest—all working together to form the athlete I am today. The athlete that Peggy was able to see a decade ago.

This, my friends, is the power of peers. Peers who have walked before. Peers who can look at you and see your potential. Peers who can hold the vision of your very best life, and believe in your future before you are able to believe it yourself. Pretty soon, you are not only believing in your visions, you are creating them, manifesting them, achieving them. And each time you share the gift with others, each time you hold someone else’s dream for them before they are strong enough to hold it for themselves, your own resolve to reach your own goals becomes hypertrophied like a muscle. Together we can achieve our dreams, peer-to-peer, athlete-to-athlete, step-by-weightless, effortless step. Together we fly. Thanks Peggy, you have permanently altered the course of my life, and I celebrate you today.

2009-04-10T13:16:00.001-07:00

Intuitive Eating-The Ultimate Power Tool

I am a big fan of intuition. As a practicing psychiatrist, I couldn’t do my job without a healthy dose of intuition. My neuroscientist friends call this “right brain” activity- the part of the brain that houses creative thinking, subjective thought, big-picture thinking. The opposite side, or “left brain” activity is where your more rational, logical, linear thought patterns live. Using this simplified version of neuroanatomy 101, if you came to see me as a patient, my left brain would be doing all of those logical, left brain, traditional physician behaviors, like taking your history, doing a mental status examination, determining your diagnosis, and then presenting you with options for medications, therapy, and other treatments. But at the same time, my right brain would be looking at your non-verbal language as you tell your story, your posture, your subtle changes in emotion. And sometimes I will know to ask you a question that absolutely is the key question to ask you, and it might completely change the treatment plan in a different direction. Sometimes I just “know” things. I am intuitive. My intuition is part of what makes me a good doctor. However, I would NEVER rely on my intuition as sole method of treating my patients. I rely on my entire toolbox of tools to help my patients heal. You might say that I teach my patients to acquire and assemble their own toolbox full of tools to handle whatever problems they might have.

My own journey from extreme obesity to a healthy weight required me to assemble my own toolbox of tools. And yes, I had my team of professionals helping me along the way—a therapist, a dietician, more than a few coaches and trainers, fit friends who walked the journey before me, and sports medicine doctors, just to name a few. Throughout my decade-long journey from obesity to health, I learned to use a variety of tools. Some of them are clearly left brain activities, like tracking my intake, output, and measurements, taking monthly pictures and assessing the change, weighing my food in grams, measuring my heart rate data, and calculating my running paces. Others are definitely right brain activities-connecting emotions to certain foods, or using my intuition to help me decide why I had an insatiable craving for chocolate when my stress levels were high.

I have come to believe that intuitive eating is a learned skill. Like any skill, some people just get it easily, naturally and without hassle. Other people (like me) have to work hard to acquire that skill. In fact, intuitive eating has been such a difficult skill for me to master, that I have considered it a “power tool” for me. Let me explain.

When I was learning how to scull, I wanted to start out in the long, skinny boats—I would watch the experienced rowers, and would marvel at how beautiful they looked in those tiny little narrow boats. From a distance, they looked like giant silver, black and red needles, slicing their way through the Halifax River at sunrise. They made it look so easy and effortless, and I wanted to be just like them. But I didn’t want to spend the necessary time building the skills. I just wanted to launch off the dock and effortlessly row myself into the sunrise-all balanced and poised, strong and confident, maybe even intuitive.
I clearly remember the first time I ever sat in a shell. Lucky for me, it wasn’t one of the long, skinny needles, it was a big, clunky, wide yellow beginner boat. Had I been in one of the needles, I surely would have launched myself right into the drink instead of off the dock into the sunrise. Before I even took my very first stroke, I realized how difficult it was even to stay stationary in the water. It took many lessons of intense left brain study to learn the coordination required to balance the boat, move the oars in the right direction, move my body in a way that powered the oars--legs-back-arms-arms-back-legs. And while doing that, you are feathering the oars down-up-down-up. Kind of like rubbing your stomach and patting your head at the same time. For a bit, I had to constantly repeat the sequences in my left brain. Legs-back-arms-down-up. The coach had to correct me. A lot. Soon the creative right brain was able to take over. My mind and body began to intuitively learn the rhythm. Instead of focusing on the left brain chatter, I started feeling the power of my stroke as I propelled myself down the mighty Halifax, negotiating my way through the tight pillars of the Seabreeze bridge, maintaining my position as I navigated the boat wakes from the larger yachts.

I had become a rower. By the time I was ready to graduate to the needle boats, my stroke felt natural, normal, effortless and intuitive. I clearly remember when one of my fellow rowing classmates and I were out for an early morning row. It was one of those perfect water days-flat and calm, no wind, and only the occasional small fishing boat. I took the opportunity to work out hard-I effortlessly launched my silver needle toward the sliver of rising sun, and powered my way down the Halifax. I had a glorious row, the rising sun, the fishing birds, the faint smell of the ocean in the distance. I noticed that my classmate stayed far behind me, but I could tell he was fine. As I returned to the dock, I felt worn out and spent from the hard effort. My classmate’s first words to me upon his return were “wow, I tried hard to stay with you, but you were just moving, you are a really strong athlete.” Coming from an ex-college rugby player, his words meant a lot to me. I had become an intuitive rower. Power and strength are important, but at the end of the day, technique rules. And my intuitive flow on the water didn’t just happen the first time I put myself in a shell. It happened after much left brain angst. Before I was capable of handling the silver needle power tool, I had to learn with the safe yellow basic model.

And so it has been with intuitive eating. I can’t tell you how many times I tried on intuitive eating for size throughout my journey, and landed myself firmly in the drink. Except the drink in this case wasn’t the mighty Halifax, it was the mighty weight gain. Sometimes only 5 pounds. Sometimes 25 pounds. As I look back on those times, I see a pattern. I was trying to use the power tool before I learned how to use the basic beginner model. For me, intuitive eating is an advanced concept, an advanced skill. Early in my journey, it was just too easy to convince myself that I intuitively needed more chocolate or peanut butter.

I have recently completed a two month experiment again with intuitive eating. I am thrilled to report that I maintained my weight without any tracking, weighing or measuring. All of those left brain skills seem to be flowing seamlessly over to my right brain, and I appear to be navigating the river of maintenance with ease. I am officially capable of using the power tool. But here’s the catch- life doesn’t always have smooth, glassy water to row. Even though I was capable of piloting that silver needle, there were days when the rough ocean tides spilled over into the Halifax, causing some challenging swells. On those days, I retreated to the safety of my big, wide, yellow boat-the perfect tool for the job.

I would like to think that I can live most of my days as an intuitive eater. It just feels right. It certainly takes less time. But I would be foolish to totally abandon all of the tools that brought me to the place I am in today. I am not ashamed to go back to my beginner skills anytime I need them. They are always there for me in my toolbox.

In my work with others who are undergoing major body transformations, I notice that some people are scared to ever try feeding themselves differently. They stay locked in the skills that brought them success. They believe that they could never become an intuitive eater. Sometimes I notice the opposite problem, people who are absolutely convinced that intuitive eating is the only way recover from a lifetime of restrictive dieting, and that any attempt to weigh, measure or track is somehow a personal failure.

The most successful weight managers I know move effortlessly across these techniques depending on life’s numerous variables. Have you noticed that you are afraid to leave the safety of your carefully calculated plan? Or perhaps you are someone, like me, who longed to be an intuitive eater, but who didn’t have the patience to learn some of those boring, tedious left brain steps prior to firing up the power tool. Wherever you are in your journey, consider building your own toolbox. Chances are, when the rough waters of life come lapping up the side of your boat, you will have the right tool for the job.

2009-03-25T17:19:00.001-07:00

I just have to share this story with my friends. I am so blessed to be a faculty member of FSU College of Medicine. I could not be prouder of our 8 graduating seniors here at the Daytona Campus. This is an email that I just sent to my Dean regarding one of my students:

I would like to nominate Mai Vo for the Regional Campus Dean’s Award. Mai’s dedication to patient care was obvious to me as she began her rotation in Psychiatry as a third year student. She quickly became an integral part of the treatment team, and contributed in a very significant way to the clinical care of psychiatric patients. Her attending noted specifically her keen interest in learning, as well as her attention to the details of her patients’ medical illnesses. Very early on in her rotation, Mai was exceptional at treating the whole patient. As I observed her with patients, I was similarly impressed by her ability to manage all aspects of patient care. Even though she was rotating on Psychiatry, she was always looking out for the non-psychiatric needs of her patients, often suggesting consultations that proved critical to clinical outcomes. At the time, I had absolutely no idea that I would be observing these same outstanding clinical skills from the vantage point of spouse of a patient instead of Clerkship Director.

Last month, my husband was hospitalized with massive bilateral pulmonary emboli. I happened to run into Mai in the doctor’s lounge, where she was having lunch with her Cardiology attending. As we discussed Ed’s situation, her attending offered to see my husband. So off we went to my husband’s hospital bed, and Mai proceeded to take his history. Just as she was ready to place her stethoscope on my husbands back, she immediately took notice of a mole. She completed her cardiovascular and lung exams, but then proceeded to compare that mole to the others. She was clearly concerned about the mole, and advised a dermatology consult. Her attending naturally was focused on his specialty, and we participated in an interesting discussion of Ed’s stable cardiovascular status. But I was mostly interested in Mai’s assessment. Part of me felt like a proud mama duck as I watched one of my students venture out and make her own clinical recommendations and design her own treatment plan for her patient. At the same time, here was someone whose clinical judgment I respect, who was telling me that she suspected cancer in MY HUSBAND. Naturally, I was terrified and scheduled the dermatology appointment within days of his discharge.

The dermatology nurse practitioner gave us the straight talk—she was ruling out malignant melanoma. And sure enough, the following Thursday, I got that call that no wife ever wants to get—my husband telling me that he has malignant melanoma. Two awful words that mean so many things to a Psychiatrist who has walked the end stages of this disease with too many patients over the years. But the next two words that my husband said provided immediate relief to the growing anxiety in the pit of my stomach—IN SITU. Malignant melanoma in situ. 99% curable. Another bullet dodged. And with that relief, came an overwhelming sense of gratitude and a new appreciation for Mai’s ability to look at the whole patient. Sure, Mai was rotating on Cardiology. And she did an amazing job of answering her attendings questions regarding the finer points of my husbands illness. But it didn’t mean that she shut off all of the learning she did in her dermatology rotation. She saw a problem and she went after it. She literally saved my husband’s life. When I called her with the news and thanked her for saving his life, she said that this was the first time anyone had ever told her that she had saved someone’s life. I told her this would be the first of many.

2009-03-06T06:02:00.000-08:00

here are some after pictures!!! these were shot about a month ago.

2009-02-09T05:46:00.001-08:00

Crash Time, Again

You know how that saying goes, “third time’s a charm?” I am hoping that saying applies to me regarding crashes. Crash number one, Wendy versus bench. Result-improved fitness. Crash number two, Wendy versus dirt road. Result-improved respect for my body and what it has allowed me to do so far. Crash number three? Well, let’s just say that all of you who cautioned me against trying to maintain a calorie deficit while training hard were correct.

Like I have said before, something profound happened to my relationship with food when I put up such a fast baseline 5k time on no fitness back in mid December. For the first time ever, I believed, truly believed that I had the potential to be a good runner. From that point forward, my willingness to ease up on portions of “recreational” food and drink seemed almost effortless. I actually lost a small amount of weight through the holiday season, which has never happened. For the first 6 weeks of 2009, I totally motored along, setting personal bests every workout, and steadily losing around a pound a week of scale weight. Enter crash number three. I wish I could blame it on PMS, because it happened during that week. But the data indicates that I had no issue navigating PMS the other two times that happened since mid December. Nope, this was a metabolic crash, pure and simple. This crash was my body’s way of telling me “enough is enough”.

It started innocently enough-mild crankiness, loss of focus at work and home, fatigue. I knew something was up when a friend decided to have an impulsive super bowl party. We had been scheming for months to set up two mutual friends on a blind “date”, but in a group setting. My friend ended up going, I didn’t have the energy to get myself off the couch.

My appetite was really strong during this time, and I was craving stuff I typically don’t care about, like the processed 100 calorie packs that are for sale down at the pink lady shop in my building. Me? The food snob? Wanting Hostess Twinkie 100 calorie packs? Ummm something is gravely wrong with this picture.

So I did what I always do when I have a question about my fueling or my training. I consult my experts! I posted a few threads here to get feedback from our very own Leigh Peele, the Fat Loss Troubleshooter. I emailed the expert running coaches at Furman University, who promptly emailed me back. They all said the same thing-don’t cut calories and run hard at the same time.

So now I was faced with a dilemma. I know that as a 5 food 6 ½ inch woman who weighs 150 pounds at 26% body fat, I am not the ideal candidate to run a fast marathon and qualify for boston. Ideal running weight for someone my height is probably around 125, which is a joke, particularly with the muscle I have built over the past few years. Even the sports dietician told me that the women she knows who do what I want to do are in the high teens for body fat percentage. The local women I know who have qualified are in the high teens. I know I don’t want to be in the high teens, mostly because I don’t want to work that hard, but also because I like the way my body looks right now! But my goal for this 5k season was to get down to the low 140’s and around 23-24%, which I felt was a good compromise. I have no doubts that I would have an easier time running if I were leaner. I have proven this to myself so far in this 5k season.

But my body was sending me clear messages to stop trying to do it all. So I stopped. I started eating at maintenance or a little above. And felt amazing. And had amazing workouts, in running, swimming and lifting. Most importantly, my mojo was back. I was focused, motivated, energetic, happy.

Clearly, I had a choice. Choice 1: Put my running dreams on hold for yet another year, and focus on really leaning out, coming as close as I can to that ideal runner girl weight. Choice 2: maintain the body that I am in now, train hard, fuel correctly, and reach for my running dreams in the body I have today.

I don’t have to tell you all my choice! The lesson I have learned in crash number three, is perhaps the most critical lesson of them all: The time for achieving my dream of becoming the best runner I can be is NOW. I could spend a lifetime chasing an ideal runner’s body composition. It took me nearly 10 years to lose 78 pounds. At this snail pace, it could take me the rest of my life to get to 19 percent body fat! At some point, aging does accelerate, and even though the Boston qualifying times do slow with age, they don’t slow THAT much. The time for me to run well is now, today, right here, in THIS body.

I have decided to eat at or near maintenance. Some days more, some days less. My body composition on race day will be my body composition. My fitness on race day will be my fitness. I am going to give everything I have this year to train hard, fuel smartly, enjoy life, be productive, stay healthy. I will show up to that starting line in the best shape of my life. And if the finish line clock says 4:00:59 or less, dream accomplished.

But you wanna know the coolest thing? If the finish line clock says something slower than 4:00:59, dream accomplished! What! How can that be! You spend an entire year training with everything you have, recording your intake in the daily plate, measuring your output with the gowearfit, doing speedwork in the 88 degree florida sun with 90 percent humidity, waking up at 4 am on a Saturday to meet your running buddies for a 20 miler, plunging your legs in an ice bath to aid recovery, passing on that yummy shiraz because you have a 15 mile tempo run the next morning.-You have made all of the sacrifices and you miss your goal? You miss it by a minute or an hour. You miss it by an inch or a mile.

Here is the other big lesson learned from crash number three. It isn’t about the outcome, it is about the process. I crossed the finish line of the Disney Marathon in 2000, weighing 208 pounds in 7 hours, 13 minutes and 52 seconds. If I cross the finish line of the Spacecoast Marathon weighing 150 pounds in 4 hours and 1 minute, one second past the time I need to qualify for Boston, I am victorious. I may have lost my Boston dream, but I have won my battle against obesity. I have proven to myself that I am capable of maintaining a lean, fit healthy body. I have beaten the odds. The odds of losing 80 pounds and maintaining that loss for a lifetime are abysmal, like less than 5 percent. but I am doing just that. I have beaten the odds. Will I beat the odds again and be a woman with 26% body fat who qualifies for Boston? Who knows. One thing I know for sure-I will be celebrating at that finish line. I will be celebrating the woman that I will become during this year of hard training and sacrifice. A woman who is more than just a number on the scale, a percentage of body fat, or a time on the race clock.

At the end of the day, we really don’t know how many heartbeats we get to have in these bodies. I want to make sure that I spend my heartbeats doing activities that I love, with people I enjoy. These day to day, moment to moment, beat to beat activities are the basic building blocks of our lives. And if all you do is focus on the outcome, become attached to the outcome, and miss the glorious process, than you are wasting your precious heartbeats.

2009-02-07T07:45:00.001-08:00

Tour de Knees

Cycling has the Tour de France. Running has the Tour de Knees. What? You’ve never seen the Tour de Knees? It is a special athletic event. You only get to participate if you run your body hard, over a number of years. Then you have to endure multiple unanticipated traumas to your knees, resulting in vague symptoms that prompt your doctor to order MRI’s of both knees. Then one of your Sports Radiologist/Colleagues offers to sit with you during lunch and take you on a tour of your knees.

Seriously, I got to see my knees up close and personal a few Fridays ago. I haven’t had this much anatomic fun since my General Surgery attending in my third year of medical school allowed me to palpate all of the abdominal organs during an open hernia repair.

Let me give you some background. Last May, many of you remember my crash with a stationary concrete bench. As usual, I was socializing too much during a long run, and had my head turned, running straight into the edge of a concrete bench at a pretty fast clip. At the time, I couldn’t see the silver lining in this big ole giant thundercloud. All I knew is that when running finally was pain free, my pace group had built their long run up to 16 miles. After two months of persistent achiness, an MRI of the left knee revealed a bone contusion (bruise) of my femur and patella. I was cleared by my doctor to run, but out of respect for my body, I made a radical decision to give up running for 6 months and focus on building strength and losing fat. I celebrated the start of 2009 in the best shape of my life as a result of that bench.

Many of you might also remember my bike wreck of 3 months ago. I was providing course support to a 30K road race (running), and I was following the leader. Unfortunately, I forgot that some of the course is on sand, and I didn’t lower my tire pressure to off road levels. I was about halfway down the sandy path, about 200 yards behind the leader, no other runners anywhere near him (collegiate runner!). I didn’t notice the patch of thick sand and my rear tire fishtailed, taking me down hard, causing my new Terry seat to get up close and personal with my pelvis, and my right knee to become intimate with the road. It didn’t help that I had on my supercool Keen sandals with SPD clips—falling when you are clipped into your pedals doesn’t exactly allow you enough time to unclip and save your pelvis and knees from crash injuries. Naturally, I ignored the mild pain with kneeling, until my strength coach finally said to me that I should not still be having knee pain this far out. So enter MRI number two.

Tuesday after my MRI, I was driving to the track to run a series of fast quarter mile repeats. My family doctor called me on my cell with words that a runner never wants to hear, “Wendy, unfortunately, I think you are going to be taking a little time off.” My heart sank, I pulled over to fully concentrate on what he was saying. The radiologist had found a cartilage flap. Just a tiny one.

Of course I started bargaining with him, like I did the time I sprained my right ankle on a Tuesday and proceeded to run 10 miles on a Saturday without incident. I figured I could manipulate him again into giving me permission to go ahead and drive to the track anyhow, perhaps adjusting the intensity as necessary. No go. Bummer. He did say that he would defer to the Sports Medicine specialist that I would see on Thursday.

As I turned left onto my dirt road leading to my house, I was thankful that I was in my trusty Honda Element and not on my superfly Gary Fisher hybrid with my supercool Keen SPD clip-in sandals. Nope, I was just another dejected runner, wondering why I seemed to be such a crash magnet.

I decided to treat my body well over the next 72 hours. Lots of massage, foam rolling, stretching, good nutrition. I was well rested and in a good mood by the time I drove to the Sports Medicine doc. I was anxious as he prodded and palpated both of my knees. There was only one small spot that was tender, right underneath the kneecap on the right. All of my ligaments and tendons were strong and stable. He watched my gait as I walked, lunged and squatted. Both the fellow and attending were more than confident that the small cartilage flap had absolutely nothing to do with the bike wreck. And the mild pain was probably more of a strain than anything. Their advice? Don’t do sports that reproduce the pain, in my case, kneeling. So no more kneeling on the gravitron. No more kneeling so I can do pushups full range chest hitting floor. At least not until the pain stopped. And since running and lifting didn’t produce knee pain, I was all clear to run!

YEE and HAW! Naturally, I was tempted to run that night, but I decided to take yet another day off and wait until the radiologist saw me the next day. Usually, radiologists don’t sit with you and review films, but I earned my MD fair and square. And when he called me earlier in the week to go over my results, he offered to meet me over lunch hour on Friday to show me my knees. Hooray for professional courtesy!

The Tour de Knees was an eye-opening, and dare I say, knee-opening experience. The first thing that amazed me was how strong my muscles looked—the tip of the quadriceps as it wrapped around the knee joint from above, and the fibers of what would eventually become my calf muscles from below. And my legs looked so LEAN!! Like an athletes legs. Big strong muscles, not a lot of fat. So fun to see radiologic proof of my hard efforts!

He reviewed the cartilage flap while I pointed to the area of pain and described the pain. He agreed with my doctors, the superficial pain on palpation would not explain the deeper achy pain that I should be feeling with cartilage issues. His best guess? A patellar ligament strain. Same advice as my other docs, DON’T KNEEL.

But the most important part of this tour was the cartilage review. On both knees, I have some mild degenerative changes in my cartilage. We won’t ever know whether my history of obesity is the cause or my history of distance endurance sports—both cause cartilage stress. But none of my cartilage changes are career ending. In fact, he thought my knees looked really good for someone who has done all of the things that I have done. But as I sat and looked at the little divets of imperfection in my cartilage, I had one of those light bulb moments. I don’t want to be one of those middle aged, recreational athletes who runs themselves into a knee replacement at 55.

I suppose if I made my living as a professional endurance athlete, I might decide that it would be worth damaging my knees—just another day at the office right? But as far as I know, neither my employer nor my patients require that I run a specific marathon time and risk damaging my knee cartilage. But I know for sure that preserving my knee cartilage is essential to my functioning as I age. I want to be like the 82 year old woman at my last 5k, who ran a 31 minute 5k, clinching the 75 and over title by more than 15 minutes. And running for a lifetime is much less likely for me if I become like some of my friends and make marathoning a lifestyle. Maybe they are some of the lucky ones who have perfect knees? I now know that I don’t.

So I have one good final shot at a marathon personal best. And if my personal best is good enough to earn my ticket to the big show, the Boston Marathon, then, I guess I have two more marathons in me!!

But after the Tour de Knees, I have decided that if my best isn’t good enough on that day, I will celebrate anyway. I will celebrate, knowing that for one year, I gave everything I had in me and became the fittest, strongest, best runner I could be. I will celebrate, knowing that I am doing a good thing for my entire body by backing off on the distance running thing, and switching to distances that are less taxing on the cartilage.

Goals are wonderful things to have, but they can’t be so rigid that you are unable to adjust them when you acquire new data. I didn’t know that running into a concrete bench would ultimately result in the leanest, most muscular physique of my life. Just like I didn’t know that wrecking on my bike would result in changing my self concept from “marathoner is who I am as an athlete” to “marathoning is part of of who I am as an athlete”. Seeing potential damage and injury unfold right before your eyes in vivid anatomic detail is one of those data points that deserves to be recognized, and deserves an action plan.

My action plan is to respect my body and make this my last shot. Who knows what kind of silver lining lies around the corner? I just hope the corner is on a paved road, without concrete benches.

2009-01-31T09:52:00.001-08:00

Exiting the Pain Cave of Perfection

Today I discovered that there are different kinds of Pain Caves. Those who have been following my blog know that 2009 is the year of the Pain Cave for me. I am learning how to reach for my athletic dreams by pushing myself out of my comfort zone, and into higher levels of performance.

So far so good! My run this morning completes 7 weeks of pushing myself into higher levels of fitness. My resting heart rate of 52 as I sat in the car today preparing for my run, as well as my recent 5K personal best are two strong indicators that my adventures in the Pain Cave of Performance are paying off in a major way.

I am happy to report that today I learned how to exit the Pain Cave of Perfection. Let me explain. Runners, as a general rule, are perfectionists. We are hardworking. Even obstinate. We will pursue our addiction despite injuries that should cause us to rest. We make liberal use of denial, and convince ourselves that a nagging pain in our knee is just a little strain that should be pushed through and endured. I have run through pain numerous times during my decade long love affair with running.

So being the good little time-obsessed runner that I am, I naturally had a goal for today’s training run. 8 miles, at sub 10 min mile pace, at an easy heart rate. No worries. Have done 7 before, what’s another mile? The weather was perfect. At 9 in the morning, the skies were cloudless and blue, the wind was chilly, and strong enough to provide some natural resistance training. The temperature was low 40’s and incresing. The sun was slowly rising in the sky, providing just enough heat to balance the bite of the wind.

I started out on the wood bridge that spans the salt marsh, and noticed that my muscle effort seemed kind of challenging in order to get my heart rate high enough to get some training effect. My pace was fast, 9:20 minute miles, and I still couldn’t get my heart rate to approach 158. My breathing was easy and controlled, but I felt like I had to increase my cadence, my foot speed, and my toe off to get to a place where I felt challenged. I finally got somewhere close to 158. I decided I didn’t want to push my muscles any harder than I was already doing. I settled into a nice 9:30 pace that felt way too easy windwise. Whatever. I settled into my pace and focused on running tall, pulling my shoulders back, keeping light on my feet. I felt great at the 4 mile turnaround, and headed home. As I rounded a corner, I felt powerful! I was channeling my inner Kenyan as I rounded the corner and headed out for the final 2.5 miles toward the wood bridge. And then I felt a tight pulling in my glute, with some referred pain down my iliotibial band, the stretch of connective tissue that runs from your hip to the outer aspect of your knee. The last time I had this, I proceeded to push through the mild pain, complete my prescribed 14 mile run anyway, and blow my marathon season because I had to rest for 8 weeks.

I had a decision to make. Continue in the Pain Cave of Performance or exit the Pain Cave of Perfection? The competitor in me wanted to report my 8 easy miles in less than 80 minutes. I was temped to keep running. After all, it was only 2.5 miles, a cakewalk at this stage of the game. But I stopped. I put my GPS on pause and I stretched my glutes and IT band. They felt better. I ran easy for a couple hundred yards, but I could still feel the twinge, particularly in the glutes.

I decided that competitors also need to know when to reel it in. sometimes being a pain wuss is the right thing to do. So I switched off my GPS and turned off my ipod. As I removed my earbuds, I was treated to the sound of the rough ocean waves. I walked along the creek toward the salt marsh bridge, preferring the sounds of the sea to the beat of my techno mix. I looked up at the sky and saw the robin’s egg blue closest to the marsh gradually melt into the darker azure blue near the zenith of the sky. The sea birds were singing. The sun was warming my face. As I took a deep, intentional breath, the smell of the ocean breeze removed any sadness I felt about not meeting my training goal.

As I walked along the wood bridge through the salt marsh, I watched in envy as a snowy egret procured his breakfast of fresh mullet from the creek. I suddenly became acutely aware of my own lack of breakfast at such a late hour. Luckily, I had less than half a mile to walk to my car, where my post workout protein/chocolate peanut butter bar awaited.

As I sit here typing, I am aware of the slightest ache in my right glute. I am fortunate that massage therapy was already scheduled within a few hours. I have no doubt that exiting the Pain Cave of Perfection was the right call today. With a little luck, a professional massage and a lot of foam rolling the next few days, my guess is that I will be at track Tuesday night ready to rip.

So I can’t report to you that I met my intended goal of 8 miles in less than 80 minutes. But I can tell you that I am gradually learning how to balance the rigors of hard training while simultaneously respecting the limits of my body. And I have a feeling that learning this lesson moves me one step closer to realizing my athletic dreams.

2009-01-24T19:13:00.001-08:00

The Need for Speed

Daytona International Speedway, home of the Superbowl of stock car racing, the Daytona 500, was my chosen venue for the inaugural test drive of my new leaner, stronger, faster body. I am exactly half way through a twelve week training program that will lead up to the Pump and Run 5k at the Arnold Fitness Expo in March.

I ran a baseline 5k six weeks ago to see where my fitness was with minimal running. The final result of 27 minutes and 29 seconds required some jacked up heartrates and some searing lung pain. And more than a few walk breaks to ease the pain. Today my strategy was different. Today my goal was to learn how to pace evenly in a race. To learn how to run the first mile conservatively, and then go all out at the end.

The morning started like every other race morning, with the alarm going off way too early. Race cars need special gasoline, runners need special caffeine. My high octane fuel of choice was freshly ground espresso beans with a crapload of pressurized water blasted into them, resulting in a fantastic double espresso. Knowing that the race conditions would be similar to my last 5k, low 40’s and clear, I donned my running tights and long sleeved drifit, gloves, and headband. I poured my Martinelli’s apple juice in a water bottle, and headed toward the birthplace of speed.

Of course, I initially went to the wrong parking lot and became entangled in a mess of traffic that was meant for the Rolex 24 hours car race, which would be starting later on. Good thing I left my house in plenty of time. I arrived at a parking lot that seemed miles and miles away from the race start. I envisioned a replay of the Disney Marathon, where it seems like you walk for at least 4 miles to earn your right to run the next 26.2. When I realized we would be taking the Disney-esque tram to the start line on Pit Road, I decided to pack a little bag with my post race nutrition. I also knew I would need a place to stash my race packet.

As the tram entered the speedway, I saw the steeply banked curve of the track, and remembered the joy I felt on the infield as I watched the 2004 Daytona 500 unfold right before my eyes. How those cars stay stuck up there on that bank is beyond my Physics 101 knowledge! I wondered how in the hell my body was going to take running up that bank, until I realized that, fortunately for my knees, the road race is run on the inner road course and not up on the banked tri-oval. Wheeew! Crisis avoided.

I picked up my packet, donned my timing chip, checked my bag, and proceeded to warm up. 40 degrees is cold until you start running! Unfortunately, I had forgotten my usual pre-race apple juice in the car, so I substituted my green algae post race spa drink instead. Felt like the right thing to do at the time, but there is a reason why wise runners advise never trying anything new on race day. Hmmm. The tummy upset during my warmup was not reassuring.

The race start was delayed just a bit, much to the dismay of more than 500 freezing runners. I didn’t really seed myself properly, and when the anthem was sung and the bell was rung, it took a while to get to the start. And for some reason, people were stopped and standing even past the race start line. HUH???

Well, I got loose from the crowd and settled into my pace. I had promised my strength coach that I wasn’t going to get gadget happy, and I stuck to my promise. I left the gowearfit at home. I had the iphone on my left arm. I had the garmin on my left wrist, but instead of wigging out to the little virtual pace dude like I did last race, I simply set a reasonable goal pace between an 8:30 and an 8:40 minute mile pace. as long as I was running in that range, the garmin would be happy and wouldn’t chirp at me. This range was large enough to account for reasonable race variation.

I was shocked at how easy the pace felt for the first mile. I would periodically look down at the garmin, and sure enough, I was running smack dab in the middle of my range. How could this be? I felt like I was out for an easy long run. But first miles of a 5k are coy like that. They trick you into thinking that all is well. They tease you into pushing that pace, and then pretty soon you are searching for that 3 mile marker, but it seems like it is 30 miles away. Only this time, I listened to my strength coach and I listened to my fast friend Brad from the track and decided to stay my nice even happy pace for mile 2. Mile 2 felt like a controlled tempo mile. Harder than long run pace, easier than track work. Soon, the mile 3 marker was upon me, and I picked it up just a little. By the last quarter mile, I realized that I was running a pretty conservative race, maybe too conservative, so I finally decided to wander into the pain cave.

As I approached the finish line, I was hurting too much to even realize that I was crossing the same line as the drivers cross when they win the Daytona 500. Legends like Richard Petty, Dale Earnhardt (senior and junior) , and my favorite bad boy, Tony Stewart. But there was no victory lane for me. No sponsor-induced spraying of the Pepsi. Only the poor chip boy who looked scared that I was going to hurl on him as he scissored the timing chip from my ankle.

But victory was mine. I looked at my garmin, and it said 26 minutes and 36 seconds, an 8:35 average pace per mile, smack dab in the middle of my range. I would later learn that my official chip time was 26 minutes and 48 seconds. And when I downloaded my Garmin heart rate data, I realized that my effort was, indeed, too conservative. Which makes the time that I achieved even sweeter. I am only 6 weeks into the first 5k training program of my entire running career, and I was almost a minute faster than my baseline, with an effort level that was SIGNIFICANTLY easier. I learned how to run an evenly paced 5k. Now I need to learn how to run a faster, evenly paced 5k.

As I soaked up the rising florida sun, munched my whole grain banana walnut muffin, and cheered my competitors at the awards, I realized something. I have developed the spirit of a competitor. I will never know what it feels like to race 3 wide on the bank of that tri-oval at 200 miles an hour, where the slightest deviation from focus could have disastrous consequences. But today, I learned what it felt like to pass one of my running friends, a friend who usually beats me easily, and to have her yell out, “you’re looking great Wendy keep it up!” In fact, it made me wonder if this is how Dale, Jr feels when one of his teammates gives him that extra little shove that edges him to victory. I felt the power of my friends today as I raced on that track. The power of all of my supporters, mentors, coaches, and teachers giving me that much needed shove to my own personal victory lane.

2009-01-04T17:17:00.001-08:00

on thing is for sure, something powerful happened to me when I ran that recent 5k PR. I lost fat over the holidays. that never happens to me. I have some kind of super powerful nutrition focus since that race. I have been able to tolerate hunger better. when I was doing triathlons in an overweight body, I always tried to talk myself into using food as fuel, but it always seemed to backfire. I don't think I ever really believed that I could be "good" at endurance sports until now, whatever that means. so therefore, I never really believed that I needed to fuel my body as an athlete would, since I was really only "posing" anyway.

something powerful happened when I put up that 5k time on no running fitness. I really started to believe that I could be a decent runner. and so since that day, which is really going on almost a month, I have been very focused on my goals. which means nutrition necessarily has to be spot on. the calories I eat have to be very nutritious to fuel these ridiculously hard workouts. and I am ok with no wine from now until my A race the first week in march!! wow, what a difference.

I think I have really discarded the chubby triathlete identity. I don't think I need to define myself anymore as the slow, fluffy tri girl who finishes every race with a wave and a smile. many obese people talk about their fat as being a "suit of armor" of sorts. protecting them from unwanted advances from potential suitors, as an example. for me, my fat protected me from having to really push myself in my sports. If those bridge repeats started to feel hard, I could pull the fat card. "well, I'm slowing down because you skinny people don't have to haul 180 pounds of girth up this effin bridge!" but really, I was scared to push hard. scared of the pain.my fat protected me from having to face a core, central belief of mine: that I suck at all things athletic. as long as I was fat, fat was the reason I was slow. I wasn't slow because I couldn't push myself hard, or slow because I lacked ability. I was slow because I was fat. so there.

and no doubt, endurance sports (my chosen poison) are clearly easier for EVERYONE in a leaner body. this is true. what wasn't true was the power that I placed on my fat. like people who believe that once you are thin, you will suddenly have the perfect marriage, the perfect career, the perfect children. I believed that if only I were thin, I could be an amazing runner, and just effortlessly glide across the finish with my miss america wave, only this time, I would be a fast chick. no puking required. turns out, that getting faster requires hard work by everyone, even the skinny chicks. and without my armor of fat, all of my fears are exposed for the world to read. can I really do it? can I really qualify for boston? do I have what it takes to train hard, day in day out? do I have what it takes to put recovery nutrition first and save recreational calories for special occasions? do I have what it takes to put it all on the line and laser focus for a year, and do something extraordinary? can I be the formerly fat chick who qualifies for boston? does it really all matter anyway?

it matters to me. it matters because it is yet another example of how your reality is created by your thoughts, and the actions that your thoughts create become your physical reality. as long as I believed I was the slow, fluffy triathlete, that is how I behaved. and now I believe I am a fit, fast, runner, and that is how I am behaving. it all starts with the mind, but the thoughts, the intention aren't enough. action needs to come next. dream it, believe it, plan it, execute it, celebrate it. I always had a dream I could run Boston. Finally, I believe it. I found a plan, tweaked it. Now I'm executing the plan. Lots of random things might happen that delay the execution of the plan. like the stupid MRI of my knee that I had friday might come back with bad news. that is life. But I believe that I am supposed to be doing this right now. To prove to myself and to others that dreams are made to be accomplished. that anything you can vision you can manifest. Life is full of richness just waiting to be experienced, we only have to face our fears, lose the armor, and get after it!

2009-01-01T16:10:00.000-08:00

New Year New Goals! As the first day of 2009 comes to a close, it is natural to look back on the year and reflect on the accomplishments, the celebrations, the challenges, and of course, the disappointments. I must say, I had much to celebrate in 2008.

One of my main athletic goals was to achieve a normal scale weight for someone my height, and I am thrilled to report that I have accomplished that goal and then some! Some of you might not know that I am a lifetime member of Weight Watchers. Finally, for 2009, they have a program that fits an athletic lifestyle, so I returned to my WW at Work meeting to learn their new Momentum program. I am actually 5 pounds below the top of the normal weight watcher range for my height on their scale. And more importantly, the change in scale weight reflects a major change in body composition, going from 33% to probably near 25%-I will know more exactly tomorrow at my monthly caliper visit.

As I set out to do the first and second challenges, I also had some performance goals, which unfortunately I didn’t meet. I wanted to bench 135. well, that is a complete joke. The 105 that I thought I benched in early 08 was not proper form-didn’t touch my chest. Oops. And those squats that I thought I was doing parallel? Ummm no. but the good news, is that I am in week 11 in working with an Olympic weightlifting coach. And I got the form down now, just MUCH lower weights. And now my squats are ATG! I am still working on that first pull-up. But the amazing thing about doing weightlifting correctly?? It absolutely TRANSFORMS your running. I was able to run a 5k PR by more than a minute on very little running fitness. Very cool stuff indeed.

As far as career goals, I have to say, that FEAR was the operative word. I won’t really go into the details on this forum, because after all, it is a FITNESS forum. But I am a firm believer in LIFE following FITNESS. I notice something really interesting when I study how my fitness affects my career. As I take better care of myself, as I get more fit, it translates into more success in other areas of my life. 2008 was about FEAR for me. And I conquered a lot of fitness fears. As a multi-time Body For Life drop out, I am proud to celebrate an entire year of monthly bikini photos!

I also overcame a major fear of feeling hungry. I learned to move toward the hunger. I learned to experience mild hunger as an essential and normal consequence of fat loss. I learned that getting leaner did NOT mean living a Monk-like food existence, subsisting forever on a diet of steamed chicken and green vegetables.

And I suspect that conquering fears in fitness will translate very directly into fears about launching my career in a new and exciting direction. I have definitely held myself back in this regard, which brings me to my goals of 2009.

2009 is all about going into the Pain Cave. Let me explain. My friend Rico is an accomplished runner. I think his best marathon time is something in the range of 2:45. He just completed the Comrades last year, and placed very well. For the endurance neophytes, Comrades is a 56 mile RUN. Last year was UPHILL. This year is DOWNHILL. Needless to say, Rico knows pain. I have confessed my Boston Marathon dream on numerous occasions to Rico. Recently at dinner, he said something that has traveled with me on every run that I have done since. He told me, “Wendy, to do your very best in a sport, you have to go into the Pain Cave”. He went on to explain how the Pain Cave works. The Pain Cave is where you go to improve. It is where your brain begins to welcome the hardest of efforts-the searing burn of your lungs with every breath, the tightness of your leg muscles as they propel you forward, the moment where you are absolutely convinced that you cannot continue at this pace for even a second longer, but you find it within yourself to shift it just one gear higher, that final gear. The one that gives you just enough power to edge out your competitor at the checkered flag.

And I have to be honest, I am a pain wuss. I was always the disruptive med student of my bunch, the annoying one who was urging everyone out of the lab for a caffeine break that could often turn into an alcohol break. Studying hurt my brain. I liked my creature comforts. And lord knows, I love my food. So pushing myself to my limits, whether it be academically or athletically, isn’t something I have a lot of experience with. Sure, I have accomplished a lot. But I have limited myself greatly in so many ways, because of my love of comfort.

2009 is the year of discomfort. The year of pushing myself. In my sport, in my life. I am learning to enter the Pain Cave. And the most amazing transformations are happening as a result. I am actually starting to like it . I am realizing that catastrophic things don’t happen when you embrace your pain. Change happens when you embrace your pain. Transformations happen when you meet your Fears head on, eye to eye, recognize the enemy and kick it in the ass. And in the battle, you might just realize that your Fears were really your Friends all along. They are there to teach you some of life’s most critical lessons. I’m not sure what lessons my fear of pain has to teach me, but I am certain that 2009 will reveal some of them.

I am ready for the challenge. My own personal challenge. So my only goal for 2009 is to learn how to enter the Pain Cave, in all areas of my life.

The title of my log has to do with the running program that I have picked for this year—from a book called Run Less Run Faster, by the exercise physiology geniuses at Furman University. 3 tough runs a week. Into the cave for all. And two crosstraining sessions per week. I have chosen swimming. My swim coach has an impressive background herself, so I have learned that the Pain Cave also exists in a pool!

And of course the lifting. This year I have completely transformed my body with weightlifting, and I will always do some form of it. But now, instead of the focus being on bikini photo transformation, the focus is on athletic performance. My lifting programs are centered around becoming a better runner. I suspect that further bikini transformation might be an interesting side effect of becoming a better runner, but that remains to be seen! I will still be measuring body composition monthly via calipers and posting the results here. Below are my two initial photos for my new log---me completing my first marathon in 2000, and me celebrating a fast 5 miler that I ran today. Today, the first day of 2009, I celebrate running. And I celebrate all of the awesome support I have received on this forum. I would not be in the shape I am today without the support of my JP Fitness forum friends. Here’s to a fantastic 2009 for all of us. And an invitation to all of you to join me in the Pain Cave.

2008-12-27T11:05:00.000-08:00

On Transitioning and Trash-talking

Sometimes I really identify with transgendered individuals. You know the folks I’m talking about—female brain born in a male body or vice versa. Spending more than a decade in an obese body somehow altered my brain chemistry. I have days where I still have my fat girl brain, even though I am now in a lean girl body. It all started yesterday when I impulsively signed up to do the holiday bridge challenge today-- a 3 mile competitive run or a 1 mile fun walk. I wisely chose the fun walk--the perfect recovery activity to sandwich between my 3 mile tempo run yesterday and my 6 mile long run tomorrow.

Packet pickup was at our local running store yesterday. I was surprised to find out that a Brooks technical running tshirt was part of my entry fee. And even more impressive, they had both women’s sizes and men’s sizes. Now I have been ordering medium race tshirts (men sizes) for the better part of a year now. No shocker there. The true shocker came when I tried on the women’s size large and it was too big. Me? A runners medium? Manufacturers of runners clothing are notorious for reverse vanity sizing. I like to think that it all started with some thin, gangly champion high school runner who always yearned for the body of a football player. As he grew older and more successful, he started his own running clothing company-finally he was able to become that size Large that his brain always knew he was, despite still weighing what he did in high school. But I digress.

Not only did a size medium Brooks running shirt fit. So did my size medium Lucy running shorts that I bought for $11 on sale before I was a size medium. And the Pearl Izumi size medium long sleeved running T’s. and the size medium Brooks running tights in black with neon yellow stripes up the leg. And the matching size medium Brooks long sleeved T with neon yellow strips up the arm. Things I never had the confidence to wear 75 pounds ago.

So off I went to the walk this morning in my size medium Brooks running T and my size medium Lucy running shorts, and placed my medium ass at the back of the pack with the walkers. Two women my age, Wanda and Kat, and Wanda’s parents, befriended me and invited me to walk with them. They planned to do the mile walk, and then if Wanda’s parents (in their 70’s) felt up to it, they were going to walk the entire 3 mile course just for fun. Game on! So we settled into a nice easy pace. At the one mile finish, Wanda’s parents wanted to do the whole enchilada, so off we went. The parents seemed engrossed in their own conversation, so Wanda, Kat and I started swapping fitness stories.

Turns out, Wanda is a trainer at a local gym. And Kat is an ex-motorcycle cop, exercise junkie extraordinaire. We had much to talk about, naturally. At one point, Kat had to stop to use the bathroom, and Wanda’s parents elected to continue walking. They were really motoring, and when I commented on how impressed I was, Wanda agreed, that yes, they had definitely improved their fitness—they are newcomers to fitness, after a lifetime of obesity and sedentary behavior. They had built this level of endurance in just a year, at the encouragement of Wanda’s sister, a marathon runner. And certainly, Wanda was very proud of her parents. But then she started trash-talking their eating behaviors. The Junk Food. The Sugar. The Diner Food. Oh MY! And I found myself trash-talking right along with her. I lamented how my own parents were losing the food battle themselves, remaining severely obese despite ever declining levels of mobility and energy as they near their late sixties. And we trashed talked some more about THOSE people who just can’t seem to get their shit together and GET IT DONE. Just stop eating the wrong things. Just start moving more. You too can be a runner size medium just like me.

Somewhere near mile 3, I realized that by trash-talking about THOSE people, I was trash-talking about myself. I felt the need to “come out of the closet” and admit, that yes, despite the convincing runner girl exterior, I too was one of THOSE people. Someone who figured out fitness before food—someone who improved her fitness enough to drag her obese ass across the finish line of her first marathon, only to recover with a 6 course Thai dinner and a large Dairy Queen Cookie Dough Blizzard. Wanda and Kat seemed unaffected by my confession. In fact, they invited me to brunch with them. I declined, not sure that I was ready to eat around new friends who had always been lean. What would they think if I ordered the delectable Harvest Pumpkin Pancake, complete with white chocolate chips, pecans and cranberries? Would that mean that I was switching sides? If walking the bridges and contemplating the merits of fruits and vegetables makes me one of THEM, would choosing the Harvest Pumpkin Pancake over the poached egg and fruit make me one of THOSE people?

And then I realized that most people probably don’t give a rat’s behind what I am or am not eating. Sometimes I will choose the poached egg and fruit. Sometimes I choose the Harvest Pumpkin Pancake. Today, with the safety of my supportive husband who has loved me at all of my various shapes and sizes, I did the unthinkable. I ordered the Ginormous Dinner-Plate sized Harvest Pumpkin Pancake. And a cup of yummy lentil soup. And the large fruit bowl. Because those are the things that I actually wanted to eat at brunch. And I enjoyed the variety. The freshness of the fruit bowl-the crunchy, delicate taste of the honeydew melon, contrasting with the sweeter sweet of the blueberries and strawberries. The ripe banana slices. The salty, earthy broth of the lentil soup. And the Harvest Pumpkin Pancake---well let me just say that syrup would have ruined the absolute perfection of this creation! Moist pumpkin base, almost a custard consistency, dotted with white chocolate chips, pecans, dried cranberries, carmelized sugar. And if enjoying this masterpiece makes me one of THOSE people, well, than I guess I am.

The truth is, for the decade plus of my life that I spent in an obese body, I had a lean, fit athlete brain trapped in an unfit, obese body, which gradually became a fit obese body, and finally a fit, leaner body. But as much as I want to pretend that I have always had my nutritional shit together, the truth is, who I am today required an unbelievable amount of hard work. After many years of daily practice, many stumbles, falls, false starts, and restarts, I really do think I have fully transitioned to a fit, lean person.

People who are making the transition from male to female or female to male have to live a full year as their intended gender before the surgeon will do genital reassignment surgery. I am coming up on a full year of living at a body weight that is normal for my height. I believe that I am fully transitioned. I believe that I am not meant to live in an obese body. I’m ready for my surgery now. But unfortunately, there is no brain surgery that guarantees that I won’t return to that obese woman who didn’t feel full after a 6 course Thai meal and a large cookie dough blizzard. But every day that I practice my lean girl behaviors, it gets easier and easier. And I learn that life in a lean body really isn’t an US versus THEM battle. Some people struggle with food. Some people have never had to struggle with food. But at the end of the day, trash-talking the strugglers really isn’t helpful. Sharing your road map with those who struggle might be.

2008-12-20T16:09:00.000-08:00

Today I am in a bit of a dilemma. If you want to know the truth, I’ve been pondering this issue since my trip to the athletic shoe store and a conversation I had with one of my running buddies. I suspect that this internal angst is just another part of my ongoing journey from the sedentary sit-at-home to the fanatically fit-freak. My fitness identity is changing, and I have another confession to make. Not only do I suffer from culinary promiscuity. I have multiple fitness personality disorder. I try on fitness identities like Madonna changes stage costumes. I suppose I am making up for lost time. Athletics was never important to me, and I wasn’t athletic as a child. At all. I was that uncoordinated kid who cringed anytime a ball was thrown my direction, because I was certain it would end up in my brain instead of my hands.

Needless to say, it was quite the shocker to realize in my early thirties that endurance sports pumped up the happy chemicals in my brain. And somehow they managed to do this even though I wasn’t inhabiting what some would consider an “athlete’s body.” So off I went at 228 pounds, struggling to find running shorts that wouldn’t chafe, a sports bra big enough to manage the girls, and shoes that would take the pounding of all that force over 26.2 miles. So walking turned into running. And when that wasn’t enough, running turned into triathlon. And triathlon turned into crew, and my first regatta. And then sculling. And then weightlifting. But a funny thing happened on the way to the weight room-I started becoming interested in physique sports-figure and bodybuilding. I was attracted to the attitude. The confidence of the women walking around in bikinis. The cute workout attire. The attention to hair and makeup.

You see, I did not spend my first 28 years in an obese body. So when I gradually became obese during my late twenties and early thirties, I never figured out how to be sexy in an obese body. I had no role models. And I somehow allowed my natural inclination for all things girly girl to become dormant. I had become “jock girl”-- the chubby triathlete who didn’t have time for hair and makeup. Weightlifting really changed that. Gradually, the body of my early 20’s started to reappear (in a 44 year old version, mind you!) After more than a decade of hiding, I saw the reemergence of the 25 year old student who married her soul mate in a white sequined bikini on the beach ( minus the cosmo girl hair and the scary 80’s makeup!)

I guess these figure competitors reminded me of me at an age when I was confident enough to get married in a bikini. I found myself wondering if I had discovered weightlifting as a young woman, would it have prevented my decade -plus foray into the world of obesity and all of the complications therein—the hypertension, the high cholesterol, the pre-diabetes, not to mention the difficulty finding clothing that fit properly, especially workout clothes.

So I signed up for figureathlete.com. and toyed with the idea of doing a figure show. I even met with a local bodybuilding legend and worked out with her. She had confidence that I could do it. The figure world is full of really cool transformation stories, at least at these local shows. And this fascination coincided with finding New Rules Of Lifting. And the JP Fitness forum site. And the monthly measures and pictures.

I faithfully documented my progress each and every month. Even the months when the progress was barely noticeable, I kept taking the pictures, having the pinch tests done, calculating the body fat. One month, Ed and I were being silly with the pictures, and I put on a new bikini with a new pair of stilettos I had purchased. Even in the bikini heyday of my youth, I NEVER wore a bikini and stilettos. Even at the height of my cosmo girl obsession, I was never a bikini and stilettos kind of girl. Bikini and flip flops go together like cake and ice cream. bikini and stilettos? That would be like cake and ketchup! But I had to just try and see, because some of the women at my gym looked great in them, and they were my age and older! To my surprise, I didn’t hate the picture! So I posted it on my blog.

So here begins the identity crisis. At the shoe store, one of my fast running buddies, who is a mentor to me, and who I respect, started talking to me about my recent 5k race report on my blog. She complimented me on my writing, my ever-increasing speed, and also on my body transformation. But as I was driving home, I realized that I had the bikini and stilettos picture on my blog! All of the sudden it hit me like a ton of 5 pound add on plates, OMG, I really don’t want my athlete friends seeing the bikini and stilettos. Bikini shots documenting progress in bare feet. Good. Who I am to my core. Bikini and Stilettos? Ummm one of my many phases, and not who I ever was, nor who I am today. At least not in a public venue, lol!

As 2008 is about to turn into 2009, I have to say, I am truly happy with my bikini photos. Clearly, I am not figure competitor lean, but I am wendy-lean. I am lean enough to kick ass in a local 5k without any training. I know that my body is not stage-worthy, but I am life-worthy. I am a strong, fit, almost 45 year old woman who can decide on a whim to jump in a triathlon for fun and finish strong. Or return to the swim team after a long absence and be the fastest person in the slow lane, even though they have been training all year. I realized that I don’t need to go up on a stage in front of people I don’t know , only to be judged on my appearance to reclaim my sexiness. I have already reclaimed it. It actually never left. It is who I am to my core, regardless if I weigh 228 pounds, 158 pounds, or 138 pounds.

Who I am to my core is an athlete who loves to push herself, who loves to jump outside her comfort zone and try a new sport. But I am also an athlete who craves the objective numbers of a well executed 5k or a new PR on the bench press. Or the perfectly timed application of 8 powerful oars in unison, rowing to victory, collapsing at the finish, knowing that you gave everything you had because your seven team mates were counting on you.

I am so grateful for the Women’s Challenge this year. After a gazillion false starts at Body For Life, I actually followed through with an entire year of bikini photos. I am beyond thrilled with the transformation. The monthly measures and pictures helped keep me on track even during times I didn’t want to stay on track.

But since my 5k PR, I have had a major brain change. I finally believe that my dream of qualifying for the Boston Marathon is not only possible, it is probable. And carrying extra fat won’t make it any easier. So I have a different reason to drop a bit more fat now. I am committed to continued caliper measurements to monitor fat loss and muscle status, which I will post in my log. But monthly bikini pictures posted in a public forum just don’t seem to be the way I want to measure myself these days. So I am officially out of challenge 2009.

I will continue to post my journey to the start line of the Boston Marathon 2010. and shoot, occasionally, I just might post the odd bikini pic in my log, because, truth be told, I can be a bit of an exhibitionist. Bikini and stilettos? Not in public. Bikini and flip flops? All day long. Maybe even with cosmo girl makeup!

2008-12-14T17:07:00.001-08:00

stonewoods 5k race report!

Yesterday was just a beautiful day for a race. The kind of day that my northern friends take for granted. cool, to the tune of low 40's! clear, just enough sunshine to lift your mood and strengthen your confidence, but not enough radiation to zap your energy and remove precious hydration.

My training for this race was minimal. in fact, in may of this year, I stopped marathon training completely because a concrete bench had the audacity to interfere with a perfectly wonderful conversation I was having with my galloway director during a morning training run. this bench had the nerve to just pop up out of nowhere, colliding with my left knee, leaving what I thought was just a nasty gash. later I would learn that I had suffered an actual contusion (bruise) of the femur. and they take a metric ass-ton of time to heal.

by the time I even felt like running again, my group had already built so much mileage, that I decided to end my marathon season. and focus on fat loss. in june of this year, I became part of an online nutrition coaching group at precisionnutrition.com. part of our monthly coaching included a weightlifting program written by one of the top strength coaches in the country. 16 weeks of expert coaching from a guy who does fat loss for a living. I was originally going to train for a half marathon and do this program, but when I received the first weeks workouts, I realized that these weightlifting sessions were going to kick my butt. no way could my schedule handle half training and what these people wanted me to do every week.

everyone who knows me knows I love running. and I have always believed that running was the key to my fat loss. and I was always terrified that if something happened and I couldn't run, that somehow I would return instantly to the 228 pound sedentary fat chick, and gradually eat my way up to an immobile weight. so it took a huge jump off the cliff for me to shift from an endurance focus to a weight focus.

the objective of the workout portion was more about muscle maintenance while in a calorie deficit than muscle building. but for whatever reason (mostly because I love food!), I decided to eat near maintenance instead of a deficit. for the first 10 weeks, my scale weight stayed the same, but I added 5 pounds of muscle and dropped 5 pounds of fat. running during this time was sporadic, and when it happened, it was very short duration.

during the final 6 weeks, I did a drastic calorie cut because I really wanted to ramp up the fat loss. my weightlifting friends who know more about dieting advised me to stop running totally. which took another huge leap of faith to do. but I did. and the change in my body has been dramatic. and I have successfully maintained said dramatic change for two months now.

since june, I have gone from 32% bodyfat to 26% bodyfat. I am down two sizes. and I have forever proven to myself that, while running is a very effective way of staying fit and burning some calories, fat loss really happens in the kitchen and in the weight room.

I did start adding small amounts of running back a few weeks ago. I did some very fast quarter mile repeats twice. and a few short treadmill runs. and a very cool 10 mile thanksgiving run. but I was certainly not in what I would consider 5k shape as I toed the starting line yesterday. but I can honestly say that I am in the best shape of my life. I was wearing cute, fitted running tights and a fitted longsleeve dryfit. and earmuffs. and gloves. I would have never ever felt confident in my grey and burgundy catwoman suit had I not reshaped my body in the weightroom.

the horn sounded, and off I went, trying to stay on pace with my garmin. as usual, I ran the first mile too fast. I started feeling my lack of training. at two different times, I actually stopped and contemplated just walking it in and enjoying the day. the first time, all kinds of negativity ran through my mind. "see, you can't keep this pace." "you're never going to be a good runner, so why make yourself hurt this way" "if you can't even push yourself hard in a 5k, what makes you think you are going to meet your time goal for a marathon next year?" at one point, I was considering just permanently going back to the weight room, using running only as a crosstrain. I like to push myself in the weight room. pain from a heavy bench press is over so quickly!! the pain of this 5k was seriously pissing me off! "guess I must really be a weightlifter. screw this competitive running thing. I'm just gonna run this for fun." I found myself missing the days when I would cross the finish line of a 5k with a big ole wendy grin and a proper royal wave to my adoring subjects. this 5k made me want to royally yak.

but something made me decide to buck up and press on. and then the doubts happened again. and I stopped and walked. and one of the coaches for the girls on the run team, who was running with a fast little runner, looks over at me and says, "c'mon only an 800 to go, you've got this". somehow I missed seeing the second mile marker. guess I just believed that I was running the endless 5k from hell. so at that point, I decided, well shit, I can hurt for an 800. and I pushed it. hard. and there wasn't any wendy grin or wendy wave. but the exhilaration of seeing that PR flash on the race clock prevented any wendy yak either. 27:29(!) 8:51 pace. a PR by more than a minute. on minimal training. and stupid race tactics.

and afterward, I ran into 3 women that I coached--they were part of my "getting started" galloway running group from early spring. they started with me doing a 15 minute run/ walk. 30 sec run 45 sec walk repeat. they proudly shared that they had all completed the half marathon at spacecoast a few weeks ago. They told me that I was their inspiration to keep training. they told me that they just loved my energy, and my story. and they wanted me to know how profoundly I had affected their lives. and then they asked me if they thought it was possible for them to do a triathlon!!! well, we know how that works!! lol. they are all about the disney danskin in may, and I will be there swim angelling away. and cheering at the finish. someday I will tell them the story of my inspiration. the woman who would alter the course of my life forever. but first I need to get back to race day!

and then I had the biggest shock of my entire athletic life. I walked over to the race result kiosk to see my official time. and there I was in the 40-44 age group listed as 3rd!!! and I turn 45 in may!!! it was a total blast getting a trophy and a free appetizer coupon at a really cool restaurant. silly that something like this could change the way I feel about myself as an athlete, but it did. I earned some legit hardware fair and square. cuz once in a triathlon when I got 3rd in my age group there were only 3 people in my category, lol. there were more than 3 women in my age group at this race :)

so I learned many valuable lessons this year.
1. fat loss happens in the kitchen and in the weight room.
2. negativity will shatter your dreams faster than lightning strikes metal.
3. sharing fitness with others and seeing them succeed erases any and all post race pain.

thanks to all of my fitness friends who suffered through this obscenely long 5k race report--you will never get these last minutes of your life back! but I want you to know how much you all inspire me to continue becoming the athlete I was always meant to be.

2008-10-20T14:09:00.001-07:00

vegas!!!!! carla, bonnie, sandy, tink, JM and me at pumpkinman!

2008-10-11T16:34:00.000-07:00

ok, so I participated in this local fitness challenge. basically you had one minute for each station to do as many reps as you could. for the pullups, they were done on a gravitron and they gave women half of your body weight as a counterweight, other wise, all exercises were body weight. and let me preface my results by saying that everyone's form today sucked, including mine. so I don't want you to think I got this many squats atg or pushups that were chest to floor. but still, my results were good for second place in my age group and the chick who beat me was all of 115 probably, and had defined abs, so VERY low body fat.

pushups 52

situps 43

pull ups 25

squats 65

jump rope 70

mountain climbers 127

shuttle run 37

I owe a lot of this performance to the recent 10 pound fat drop. I can't tell you how much easier this stuff is in a leaner body. and I have to thank tom for challenging me to consider just getting it done, and leigh for providing some templates on how to do that, and my girls, jane, ginger, tina, and jill for providing unbelievable support.I have to say, I am totally on a mission to reach my potential as a athlete. I have allowed myself so many excuses in the past, and I am really done with that phase of my life. feeling this fit is the best!

and I did this all in my new lucy workout clothes (not the sandals, lol. had my nike runners on!)

2008-10-05T17:59:00.000-07:00

yummy italian frittata--it has spinach, and roasted roma tomatoes, roasted red and yellow peppers, ricotta salada cheese and a bit of parmesan. lots of italian spice and fresh basil. it was so good!

2008-10-05T16:01:00.000-07:00

AFTER WEIGHT LIFTING

2008-10-05T15:58:00.001-07:00

BEFORE weight lifting

2008-09-12T14:50:00.000-07:00

2008-09-07T05:11:00.000-07:00

here I am one week after my major fat blasting plan. so far so good!!

2008-09-07T05:10:00.000-07:00

kristia and I having a blast at the ormond beach triathlon in may 2008

2008-08-03T05:26:00.000-07:00

pizza that I made from yesterday!this is a pic of my za!! the base is a millet/spinach flax lavash, only 50 calories, lots of fiber and low carb. I convection baked it at 400 for 5 min or so to crisp it.then topped with muir glen pizza sauce, miniature brown button mushrooms, yellow and red peppers, freshly snipped basil and a small amount of six cheese italian cheese shreds. convection baked until crispy!!

2008-08-03T05:11:00.000-07:00

MeasurementFriday, August 1, 2008August 1, 2008(Derived From Results Tracker & professionally done weekly by the same person!)(change from program start)

Body Weight = 162 lbs (-2lb)

Lean Body Mass = 113.2 (+2.5lb)

Fat Mass = 49 (-4.5lb)

Body Fat % = 30.2 (-2.4%)