What an interesting few weeks I have had since embarking on this little endeavour of wanting to run a 13.1 mile-long race in 8 months. My friend Kimmy pretty much called it when she told me that I would start off super ambitious and just burn out quickly, as 8-9 months is entirely too long to train for a race.
All of my runner friends advised me that focusing on a race in June was a bit of a stretch and that I likely would not keep up with it. They also told me that I will not likely lose pounds initially with running. Such an uplifting, encouraging lot I keep, yes?
I would be bitter about their advice except for the fact that they are exactly right. First week of October (or as I refer to it: Rocktober, Stalktober, Socktober, Yachtober, or Mocktober depending on my current activity) I started to slack off, being busy with work and finishing up my internship school work. Will tried to encourage me to do push ups and sit ups, but quickly realize that his attempts at motivation were falling on deaf ears and gave up as one man can only tolerate so many bitchy glares. My friends encouraged me to sign up for other races between now and the half marathon to train, to have more immediate goals in sight. As registration had already closed for the Chicago Marathon taking place on 10-10-10, I had to find another race. Long story short, Fat Girl is running a 5k on Thanksgiving.
I figure a Turkey Trot 5K is a good start for me, as there is a reward of turkey and pumpkin pie at the end of the race. Also, there will be Moms with Strollers, and I will be damned if I am going to let the majority of the baby brigade beat me. It's the largest race day of the year in America, so I figure there will be all sorts of people out there and it is unlikely that I will come in dead last, which is my fear.
Registering for this race has, so far, got me out of my funk in terms of not wanting to work out. I've been taking advantage of the glorious weather and hitting the pavement, and joined my local YMCA to take advantage of their "indoor track" ie painted concrete circling the weight room, and indoor pool. I've realized that I have a little over a month to get my fat butt prepared to crank out 5 kilometers of pavement.
The other big milestone in my healthy lifestyle journey is that I purchased my first pair of size 10s the other day. Please note that these pants do not button. I did it as a motivator. When I recently visited my doctor, I received a lot of great news: my blood sugar is spot-on perfect, despite the fact that I eat my own body weight in Italian Buttercream and cookies at work daily; my cholesterol levels, which were once approaching stroke-level, are healthy, despite the fact I consume bacon non-stop at work; and perhaps most exciting to me is that my blood pressure has stayed exactly where he wants it- and I've been off all blood pressure medications for more than 6 months now! It feels amazing to know that a year and a half ago I was on the verge of becoming a diabetic, have a stroke and a heart attack and end up as the poster child for the dangers of Obesity in America when I died at age 25 of all things fat-related.
However, my on-off relationship with working out and love affair with meringue-based icings and pork product has caught up to me as I've put close to 10 pounds back on. Ugh. And my friends are telling me that the scale is not going to drop these first few months of running. So I took the advice of Kimmy and bought a pair of cute size 10 jeans. I am trying them on every few weeks and measuring how far they are from buttoning up. I will not go into too much detail, as the image of a fat girl trying to shimmy into constricting denim is one that will haunt you forever, but let's just say they don't fit. In addition to aiming for making these 10s button up, I am also focusing on getting a pair of 12s I bought last Christmas look good again. I purchased them when I was at my lowest, down 55 pounds, and they were a little bit snug, but I figured that with time I would be in them. Wrong. So Desperately Wrong.
We all know the expression "muffin top," I hope. For the over 50 crowd, a muffin top is when a girl's jeans are too snug and she gets that billow of fat popping over the top of the jeans, and it resembles a muffin popping out of a tin. I've often sported the muffin top, when I was an 18 absolutely determined not buy 20s, I wore my muffin daily. I sport it now in my 12s and 14s. However, with these size 12s that I love and so desperately want to wear, my 10 pounds of gainage has moved me from the muffin top category to a look I call The Mushroom Cloud. These pants fit only in the most technical sense of the word. They button, the seams are not ripping open, but once the fabric stops all one can see is my own personal Hiroshima- an explosion of gluttony and flesh bursting out for denim liberation.
So I've taken to measuring the distance around the top of the jeans, and the circumference of flesh belt and using that as a gauge of progress. A month ago it was 3 inches, today it was 2.5. Progress. Once I get to under an inch and safely back into muffin top zone, I am rocking these pants.
For now, I need to focus on my homework- a portfolio of my work in my breads class...because consuming a minimum of one loaf of bread a day has clearly done wonders to help me lose weight.