In My Sister's Running Shoes

Imagine you were a competitive runner in high school, and 27 years later you still hold records.  You were invited to train with an Olympic coach who believed you would make the U.S. team.  It was discovered you had a heart condition, and you learned that dreams die hard.  You pushed past that disappointment, became an athletic trainer/physical therapist, and at age 40 still love to run, back pack, zip line, and do anything adventurous. In one second, your life changes again when you are in an accident.   You destroy your left knee, both bones close to the knee are crushed into dust, and you are told you will never work or walk again.  You weren’t surprised because you had already self-diagnosed at the scene of the accident and knew the extent of your damage. You suffer multiple complications from the accident including repetitive pain syndrome, blood clots, and inflammation throughout your body that causes additional health concerns.  For five years, you draw on strength from God, what you’d learned from long distance running, and the medical knowledge you gained from your chosen profession.  You reuse to quit or give up hope, and have fought through extreme pain.  Your athletic determination moves you from the couch, to a wheel chair, to a walker, to walking without assistance.  Walking again is a bitter-sweet victory, because you have been advised to walk as little as possible to save your mobility.  Every step grinds away more of what is left of your knee and leg bones. Doctors think they might be able to give you one knee replacement, which could last 15 years, but there is no guarantee they can attach a replacement.  There might not be enough bone to anchor it too, and a failed attempt means a certain end to walking.  Each step you choose to take is one less you might be able to take in the future so each step must be spent wisely.

You have just imagined life in my sister’s running shoes.  On May 5 of this year, my sister, Juleigh, celebrated the 5th anniversary of her accident.  She made the emotional decisions to celebrate by walking in the Not Your Average Joe’s 5K this past Saturday.  Joshua and I decided that there are some things in life that are too important to miss.  There was no doubt that we had to drive the 13 hours to surprise Juleigh and walk beside her. There were 100 reasons why we shouldn’t have.  Crazy deadlines for work, the price of gas, the Sunday morning commitments we couldn’t miss, having to turn right around and drive right back home late at night – the list could go on and on.  But there are some moments in life to precious, too profound, too miraculous to miss.  My parents, Joshua, and I showed up at the race wearing “Team Juleigh” t-shirts, and I am sure those around us wondered why there were so many tears.  There was no way they could understand what she felt when she heard the gun sound as she once again stood on a starting line or what I felt starting beside her in the race instead of being in my usual place, cheering on the sidelines.  Others might not have noticed how she automatically picked up the pace when the first runners lapped us, but we all knew that if life wasn’t hard they would be chasing her instead.  It was only right when she and Joshua, also a long distance runner, pulled away from me as they targeted and schemed to overtake each group of walkers that were just a little bit ahead.  As I followed behind, I stared at the back of Juleigh’s bright yellow shirt, and I cried.  I am the big sister who was there to see her very first step as an infant, and later could only pray she would have a first step again.  And there she was – once again where she belonged.  Better, stronger, faster, tougher, braver - life’s winner.  My second 5K was my sister's second first 5K.  A new kind of race that marked a milestone in life bumpy road.  A race that wasn't about the time at the finish line, but about staring the rest of the time we have to live in the face and saying we will fight and overcome.  For me it was a trail of tears to celebrate and give thanks for miracles, remembered past pain, enduring love, and a prayer for the road yet to be conquered.  Life is a race my sister will always win.  I am so proud to be a part of her team.

My new 5K Philosophy

Well – I did it!  I completed my first 5K and discovered my five new 5K Philosophies:

·        I am thrilled that so many friends joined me.  Many of them also finished their first 5K today.  It was fun to hear them say they decided to do it because I was.  I readily embrace my calling to be the person that makes people say “Well, if Larla can do it, I can!”  5K Philosophy 1: God has called us to be a Barnabas (encourager) even through our greatest weakness.

·        I wasn’t the last ones across the finish line, but I think that everyone behind me accidentally walked an extra loop.  5K Philosophy 2: We don’t all run the same race in life but we all eventually reach the same finish line.

·        My goal was 1 hour.  I finished in 1 hour and 27 seconds.   I could have been an over-achiever and beaten my goal (please appreciate the irony of that statement), but it would have meant leaving friends behind and not taking our picture at each mile sign.  5K Philosophy 3: Life’s race is too short to miss walking beside a friend and celebrating life’s mile markers.

·        I ran a few races in track in Jr. High but only because there was no one else available.  I always lost, but that was OK because no one ever expected me to win.  5K Philosophy 4: Finishing a race is winning.

·        Today I wasn’t nervous about finishing because Pat had already walked the path with me two weeks ago.  5K Philosophy 5.1: Fear runs once it’s faced.

·        The highlight of the day was seeing my Pat, my Joshua, McKenzie (Joshua’s girlfriend), and other friends cheering as I approached the finish line.  I wanted to slowed down to make the moment last, but instead I ran (in public for the first time since who knows when).  5K Philosophy 5.2: Ten seconds will always take 10 seconds to past by, but the love of friends and friends can propel you farther in those seconds then you've ever traveled before.

Happy Birthday Scar!

Today is a day of celebration. 

One year ago I traded 17 pounds of cancerous tumors for a large scar. Today I have lost an additional 32 pounds and have never been healthier.

One year ago I made myself take a few painful steps in the hospital hall way.  Today I registered for my first 5K.

One year ago I knew I couldn’t go much longer feeling as terrible and tired as I did.  Although there was fear, it was not of the surgeon’s knife.  It was that life would not be better on the other side of the pain I was about to face. 

Today I celebrate scars.  I celebrate the nail-scarred hands and feet of Jesus who bore our sins on the cross.  They are the reminder of how great His love is for us and of His promise to work all things - even pain - to the good of them that love Him and are called according to His purpose.

Today I rejoice in the large scar I see in the mirror from the surgery.  It is my personal reminder that although we would seldom choose physical or emotional pain, in time there is healing and joy.

Today is a day for thanksgiving and for tears of gratitude and praise.  It is a day to celebrate the beauty of scars.

Life is a DVD Player

My life has been like a DVD player the last few weeks.   There have been two very important events that caused me to hit the RECORD button so I can treasure them forever. First, my son, Daniel, got engaged to his girlfriend, Clare!  What a precious memory!  Daniel and Clare are looking at December 2014 for the wedding so I now have the perfect long-range goal to hit and maintain my final weight loss!  The other exciting news is that my niece is going to have a baby!  This little one will be the first great-grandbaby for my parents, and we are all so excited!  I must admit that I am determined that this first great-niece/nephew will never wonder if I’m his/her great-aunt because I am GREAT big.  It will obviously be because I am the greatest great-aunt ever! (Yes – I plan on doing my share of spoiling!  That means there had better be a lot more gone by this December for that “First Christmas” family photo.)

The main reasons I haven’t written for a while is because life has been on a crazy FAST FORWARD.  My sweetheart, Pat, has been sick, both boys had Spring Breaks, Joshua was in two fine arts competitions, work has been crazy, I took a business trip to TX, and there were some days I think I forgot to breathe!  (I wish I could have used the rewind button in TX.  I learned the hard way that when you are losing weight you should try on clothes as you are packing them. If you don’t, some items that were OK a couple weeks ago might be too big to wear!) 
Unfortunately, my weight loss has decided to hit the PAUSE button.  It’s almost like the minute the Chairman’s Challenge ended my body said – “OK – you made the goal, now leave me alone and let me rest for a second!”  It’s all good because I have been holding the same weight for the last few weeks.  This slight break has really helped emphasize to me that the life change really is about health.   I’m sure that the weight lost will start again soon, but 32 pounds lighter is not a bad place to pause!

 I’ve also had a chance to PLAY.  Last week I had a date with Joshua.  I taught him how to play racquetball just like I taught his dad so many years ago.  I was pretty amazed how much more competitive I was with him than when I play Pat.  Those first games will probably be the only time I can legitimately claim to have “schooled” him in any sport so I didn’t let that opportunity pass.

A quick glance at the calendar is warning me that the FAST FORWARD is going to continue.  There are trips to a state and a national music competition, college visits, Royal Family meetings, and oh yeah – my first 5K in just 20 days.  I must admit that I am tempted to hit the EJECT button on that idea, but I am going to reach for that POWER button instead!

Our Courting Story

So my honey took me courting this morning!  J  It has been 23 years since we had a date to play racquetball.  It was a blast.  I’ve always enjoyed playing racquetball because it’s a valid sport for me.  Unlike tennis, if I hit the ball really crazy, it can only travel so far before it hits a wall and bounces back somewhere close.  A tennis ball, on the other hand, will leave the court, sail over the fence, fly across a four lane road, and into a yard.  (Trust me – I know these things!) Racquetball allows me to keep playing a game that involves a racquet instead a game of fetch. 

I have always loved the intimate feeling of leaving the rest of the world behind and spending time together on the court.  The health club court has a tinted widow along the top of the back wall. Half way through our time we realized that the widow is in the wall of one of the hospital’s waiting rooms and there were several shadows watching us play.  (So much for privacy.)  I am sure we were quite entertaining. 

Here are the highlights of our date:

• Longest volley: 13 hits
• Approximate percentage of the balls I successfully returned: 50%
• Percentage of the hour I spent laughing at myself:  75%
• Most commonly used phrase we said about our own good hits:  “That was lucky!”
• Most commonly used excuse for not going after a ball: “I was afraid I was going to hit you.”
• How many times I hit myself with the racquet or the ball: 6
• Where I hit Pat with the ball: Dead center of his forehead.
• Where Pat has a really red mark that looks like a giant hickey: Dead center of his forehead.
• Pat’s quick, witty retort: “Next time I’ll remember to wear a hard hat with my safety glasses.”
• Most romantic thing said on our date: “I love you as much as I missed hitting that ball by.”

 Romance is alive and well!  I see many racquetball dates in our future.

The Color of Disappointment

If disappointment was a color, I would have to begin with bright yellow. The greater the hope and anticipation for success, the brighter the yellow must be. Without hope and anticipation for something good, there cannot be disappointment. I must paint the brightest yellow on my canvas because my hopes were high.

 If disappointment was a color, I would have to add blue. Blue to symbolize the tears that may or may not flow down the cheeks but are waiting to show in that moment when the disappointment first hits. The greater the difference between the expected results and what occurred, the deeper the color of blue. I choose to add a deep, bright blue on my canvas.

It seems appropriate that if disappointment was a color it would morph into the green that reminders me of the horrific smell and the sick stomach I experienced when I first saw ugly, Pea-Baby-Poop Green. It accurately describes the sick feeling disappointment brings.

Although the result of this mixture seems appropriate, if disappointment was a color it must include Hot Dog Pink. Hot dogs are meant to be eaten, but if one went down my wind pipe it chokes me. The only goal is to expel it quickly. Disappointment chokes and can make it hard to breathe. There is that brief moment when I feel that dreams and hopes are about to end. What a tumultuous moment disappointment creates! There must be a conscious effort to not allow that turmoil to lodge in the heart but to take the unexpected result and honestly look at the positives of “what is” instead of “what I had hoped.”

What an amazing discovery. If disappointment was a color, it would be beige. As the artist, I know there are hopes, tears, and a moment of turmoil that has given me the gift of this primed, neutral canvas. I choose to throw away Dark Gray Discouragement and Stop Sign Red from my paint palate and not allow them anywhere near my canvas. Instead, I’ll add the colors of Bright Green Go and Steel Determination and name my new canvas Growing Green.

Amazing Math

So tonight I go back for my second health evaluation at the health club so I can provide my official improvement numbers for the last Challenge check in.  Before my first evaluation, which was in November, "The Mean Girl voice said I was going to miserably fail."  It was a huge step for me to even go to that evaluation and face the facts.  I know there have been physical improvements that I can measure, but the ones I care about the most are my cardiovascular assessment and flexibility which I will find out tonight.  I have been faithfully doing stretches to try to transform from a stiff 3CPO to Mrs. Incredible. The fear of failing is gone, but I still have butterflies!  (My hubby's declarations of how great I look and my son's pronouncement that I am "lookin' hot" are obviously a bit biased!) The truth is that even with 30 pounds gone, only those that really know me are noticing a difference.  It will be great to get the perspective that numbers provide.  This whole journey really is about so much more than weight loss...tonight I get the facts about health. 

I do still have a bit of pre-game jitters surrounding the sit-up test.  I did 20 in the one minute before, but my belly was bigger so I didn't have to sit up quite as far.  (In honor of the great Paul P's retirement from AT&T, I will now attempt to replicate his amazing ability to turn learning service raw data into usable facts.)  I am 6 inches smaller around the middle than I was then so that means I will have 6 more inches of movement to make for each sit up.  Based on that fact, I am going to have to travel 120 inches more within that same one minute to break even.  120 inches of movement equals 10 feet.  Ten feet are two more than I have.  That leaves me with a negative 8 foot disadvantage over my last evaluation.  I weigh 20 pounds less than I did since the day of that evaluation.  Those 20 pounds should result in less wind resistance and strain for the stomach muscles to lift.  A 2 liter bottle of soda weighs about 4.5 pounds after you subtract the weight of the bottle.  Twenty pounds of fat melted down would be about 4.5 liters.   Liter is almost spelled the same as litter.  The average puppy litter is six puppies.  That would equal 24 feet.  24 feet minus eight feet equals a net improvement of 18 feet which is 192 inches.  I am 70 inches tall.  192 divided by 70 equals a +2.75 sit ups.  If I achieve 3 more sit ups tonight, I will be very happy. 

In summary - My friend Paul, will be greatly missed, and I am definitely not qualified to replace him! 

Tale of Two Voices

Once again I turn to a literary genius to help me express my current state of mind.  I see no need to try to rephrase what Charles Dickens so masterfully stated.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us,…in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only. (Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities, Book 1, Chapter 1)

I wonder if Dickens would have ever imagined that he was describing the Tale of the Two Voices in this “present period” of my health journey.

Noisy authority voice one (My voice for good) – This is the “best of times!”  I have hit the goal weight I established for the Chairman’s Challenge!!!!  I have done my part to earn the money for Royal Family Kids Camp.  I am eligible to win!  I am now wearing the smaller, outdated clothes from the back of my closet that I should have gotten rid of a long, long time ago. I have so much more “wisdom” than all of the other times I have attempted to defeat my weight.  I “believe” because this time I am focusing on increasing my health while enjoying the weight loss benefit that comes with it.  Blogging, and coming out of hiding in the dark shadows of shame and past failures, has shone the “light” on truth and brought an unwavering “hope.”  I read about an Eco tour to Costa Rica that includes a strenuous hike through the forest and over rocks to see a waterfall and zip lining above the rainforest canopy.  I want to go!  I can make that kind of hike and be able to fit into a zip line harness.  I have “everything before” me.  Please count me in for all kinds of adventures ahead.  I look in the mirror and think “Hey - I remember when I used to look like this!  It’s nice to see you again!”  Why in the world was I so hard on myself back then?” 
Noisy authority voice two (for evil which became vocal after looking at the pictures from our trip): It is “foolishness” to be so happy you crazy girl.  Look at these pictures.  So what you hit this goal weight! That’s not even half way to where you should be.  What kind of winner for a health challenge could you be?  You are still fat. I remember when you were this size too!  You were stuck here for years and only got bigger.  You are back into the same clothes you wore when you were frustrated and miserable.  No matter what you did, you didn’t lose weight.  The nutritionals called you a liar?  The doctor put you on medication that was supposed to regulate PCOS and lead to weight loss.  It did nothing – nada – not one pound gone because you were already exercising then too.  Hope?  Really?  I bet your weight stays right here like it did before. Don’t call my logic doubt because I am your truth.  You think you could wear a zip line belt!  I bet you won’t even risk the humiliation of trying to ride a roller coaster again.  Adventure?  There is “nothing before” you that you haven’t seen before.   You claim your truthful writing has brought you to the light, but you still live in the “dark.”  So what over 1,900 people have read this blog?  You only dance in your living room, exercise under the water, and walk but never run for others to see.  You think you are inspiring others? This blog's not funny and who else reads Dickens?  (Let’s see how many people finish reading and bother commenting on this post!)  Welcome back to your “worst of times.” 
Having heard both witnesses. I am amazed at the “superlative degree of comparison” these two voices create.  It is hard to imagine that they both speak the truth, and yet I know they do.  The only difference is their perspective.  The “good” voice looks to the future.  The “evil” voice is a commentary on what occurred in the past.  My only response is that because of the health emphasis of the Chairman’s Challenge I know "it is a far, far better thing that I do (now), than I have ever done.”  (Book 3 Chapter 15) I am not the same person I was when I wore these same clothes.  It is good to listen to the voice from my past that insists on being heard, but only to give it a brief nod of acknowledgement.  There is no need to buy new clothes in this size because soon these outdated garments (and the point of view they carry) will no longer fit the new me. 

 

Words of Wisdom

Isn't it amazing that the best advice is usually the simplest and shortest?  Words to live by like wash your hands, wear clean underwear, and don't stand directly behind a cow.  Last month Stephanie, my health coach through work, handed down three words of wisdom that have become my decision-making motto. 

I was headed for vacation at an all-inclusive resort and had been given a list of food and drinks that I "had to try."  I knew from multiple witnesses that the food was really great and very plentiful.  I'm talking free 24-hour room service, five-course meals, and order anything you want and as many as you want abundant!   I was excited about the trip, but I also knew that although the gluttonous gorger voice is in the graveyard, she only has about an inch of dirt shutting her up, and she can yell pretty loud.   Here was Stephanie's sage advice. "Don't regret anything."  Think about it for a minute and see if a light bulb appears about your head like it did mine.
 
I packed those three little words into my frontal lobe carry-on luggage and boarded the plane.   I would not regret eating too much, but I also was going to enjoy every minute of the experience.  I found out that "Don't regret anything" was a perfect filter.  I tried lots of new foods: Crème Brule, crepe suzettes, French chocolate mousse, blue cheese crusted steak, cheese and wine fondue, Japanese peanut chicken, wild mushroom soup, and sexy coffee. (Honest - that's its real name!) Those are just a few, but I think you get the idea!  On the other hand, I also didn't regret eating too much of these indulgences.  I savored every bite but didn't need more (although I did eat three pieces of cheesecake over eight days - but they had different toppings so that doesn't count!)   I did not try the escargot.  When I asked myself if I would regret going home without trying snails, the answer came back a very loud no!

I've had a week to reflect on our trip and I am thrilled to say, lose the three pounds that found me on the beach.  I brought home sand in my shoes, ocean-polished rocks in my pockets, and the same pale skin tone I left with. (Thank you 85 SPF sunscreen for preventing a sun burn!)  What I didn't come home with were regrets.  Thanks Stephanie!

Back to Reality

I must admit that I am a little depressed.  I just came back from an eight day trip to Puerto Vallarta with my hubby, sister, her husband, and six friends from church.  It takes quite a bit for me to be down, but let’s face it.  It’s really tough to go from barefoot on a beautiful, sunny beach and 80 degrees to a messy house, 32 degrees, and snowing.  I am going to try to list all the awful things that happened on the trip to try to lessen the pain of reality.  Here goes:

• When we were lying in our bed in the mornings, ornate ironwork from our private balcony interfered with the view of the ocean as we looked out our patio doors.
• Crazy tourists on a jet ski disturbed the mama and baby humpback whale we saw at the beginning of our 3 hour, 44 mile ocean trip with a marine biologist, so we had to go out farther into the bay to see numerous hump back whale and hear one sing.  Oh yeah – a seagull messed on my sister.
• I got sand in my shorts when I was knocked over by an ocean wave and couldn’t stand up until three more waves hit me because I was laughing so hard. My friends were laughing even harder.
• A hotel guest in his skimpy bathing suit sat at a table directly across from us at the outdoor café and his Grand Canyon plumber’s crack was not the tourist attraction we came to see, but it made it hard to look up and enjoy the view of the bleach.
• The orange, fuchsia pink and purple flowers in the rain forest were so bright that they hurt my eyes.
• I gained three pounds because I indulged in the reasonably-portioned sizes of the delicious, five-course gourmet evening meals – oh – and the free room service cheesecake that was delivered to our balcony. 
• I literally bruised my behind bouncing in the back of the van on the horribly roads we took up the mountain to see El Eden, a breath-taking rainforest waterfall.
• One day was overcast so the temperature only hit the upper 70’s and the ocean waves were much higher.
• I didn’t get to exercise in the hotel gym because I was too busy walking on the beach and exploring several Mexican markets and towns.
• I got multiple stains on my shirts because the fresh papaya, melons, and pineapple were too juicy.
• I cried Sunday as I prayed and praised with the congregation that worships in the church my husband and our church’s construction team built during their mission trips.  I cried again as I witnessed people standing in line to receive free dental, vision, and medical care outside the church during the week.  
• It’s hard to justify the few trinkets and treasure I brought home for souvenirs when I know that the indigenous missionary, his wife, and three children have moved into the heart of Mexico to minister and are surviving on $100 a month.  His wife offered to share their squash, beans, and handmade tortillas they survive on if we visit.

Well, this helped.  It's good to be home.  Who needs the beach.  I've got the gym and the pool.

I am a....

Dedicating this blog to my sister, Juleigh, the ultimate athlete.

The first day we visited our health club, I worked out on an exercise bike.  An elderly man, I’ll call him Charles, was slowly walking on the indoor track and sat down on a bike next to me.  It was obvious he was struggling to breathe.  In fact, Charles was having such a hard time that I was concerned he was having a heart attack.  I asked him if he was OK, and he nodded, but I wasn’t convinced.  He was sitting slumped over, had his hand on his chest, and was wheezing.  I had completed my workout, but I wasn’t going anywhere and kept peddling.  Eventually his breathing returned to normal.  He smiled at me, got up, and went back to shuffling around the track. 

The next morning I saw Charles and watched him carefully to see if he was better.  But he wasn’t.  He walked half of the 1/12 mile indoor track then sat down to catch his breathe.  During the hour I exercised, he completed a quarter mile.  Because I belong to a health club associated with a hospital, it was obvious Charles must be at the gym on doctor’s orders to gain strength from either a heart condition or perhaps emphysema. 

A few mornings later I knew I had made a friend.  Charles greeted me with “Did you know I’ve got bird dogs?”  We soon had our new routine.  When I lift weights or on a piece of equipment that borders the track, Charles sits down next to me to catch his breath after his half lap.  When he can talk, we do a little visiting and then he gets up and walks again. 

One day Charles asked me if my son Joshua plays basketball.  We get this question frequently because Joshua is tall.  Even though I answered no, Charles’ face lit up as he shared that he had been an outstanding ball player.  In fact, he played professionally.  He proudly told me his lifetime stats and some of the places around the world he had traveled with his team.  Half in jest, I asked him to autograph my workout log, and without missing a beat, he did.  It was obvious it was something he had done many times.  As he handed me back my sheet, he got a melancholy look in his eyes.   He dropped his head and quietly said, “I used to beat everyone running up and down the court.  Now I can’t even walk across one.”   His deep sense of loss pieced my heart and brought tears to my eyes.  I told him how much he inspired me that he came every day to walk and get stronger.  I said that his doctor must be very pleased at how faithful he is to come.  Charles head snapped back up, and he looked me squarely in the eye.  With the conviction of a competitor he replied, “No doctor makes me come.  I’m here because I am an athlete.”

No one who meets Charles today would say he is an athlete, but they would be wrong.  Over 90 years of life has robbed him of physical strength, but it has not won or changed who he is.  I can relate.  Regardless of what life brings I will always be a follower of Christ, a wife, a mother, and teacher.  These four roles are at the foundation and motivation of everything I say and do.  They are who I am, but Charles made me think of all the times I have said I am not athletic.  If the definition of an athlete is someone who skillfully plays and wins games, I will never be able to claim that title. But, if an athlete is someone, like Charles, who doesn’t quit, and is willing to physically fight the challenges life brings, I choose to add athlete to my list.  Like Charles, I choose to not quit fighting until the final buzzer.    Who are you?

Dream Interpretation

(Rated G for Genuine due to brutally honest transparency and a bad example)

I remember my dreams in great detail. I’m usually pretty good at figuring out how my brain took the events and the emotions of the day, put them into my Ronco Brain-o-matic, sliced, diced, and spit them back out in a crazy mixed up way.  Last night I dreamt I went through airport security holding a can of beans to travel on a surfboard-like transportation system. The trip included going through a “turn pike” which was a giant, downward-spiraled waterpark slide. (How sad is it that I even dream in puns? Get it TURN pike.) Yep – no psychoanalyst needed here. I am really excited about our upcoming trip, know it is going to be a blast, but am determined to eat appropriately. I have been thinking about trying a boogie board. Told ya – simple me – simple dreams – simple interpretations.

In the past, I’ve had a not-so-fun reoccurring dream. I could barely walk. It was like my feet were in concrete. I had to hold on to trees and other objects just to stand. In one dream, an elderly woman using a walker passed me. In another dream, it was pouring rain. I saw shelter and tried to move, but I didn’t have the strength to take a step. That dream was so real that when I woke up I was surprised I wasn’t soaked. It sure didn’t take a psychologist to figure out what my brain was trying to get through my thick head. I was sick. (That is still really hard to type.)

In the daylight, I did what I always do when faced with a challenge. I adapted, gave my best, and pushed through. My stubborn sense of responsibility pushed me in spite of my pain and fatigue until I fell into bed exhausted each night. Only some family and a few close friends even know I was struggling. (It's hard to share what you don't want to admit to yourself.) I avoided stairs, the shortest of walks, and would sit as still as I could to save my energy. Sometimes I wouldn’t even reach for a glass to take a drink of water because it took too much effort. The truth was I had growing tumors. (A common problem for women with PCOS.) As they grew and my activity level decreased, I grew in body mass.  I knew something was really wrong, but I am bad about putting others first even to my own harm. I was determined to hold on until January (2012) before I went to a doctor because of the financial burden that I knew the medical bill would be. (Not smart!) In my heart, I knew my nightmares were my reality, but I was too weak and stubborn to do anything but hold on to the tree, stand in the rain, and survive.

Last March, the doctor removed tumors, early-stage cancer cells, and the body part that caused my physical fatigue, but the Chairman’s Challenge at work changed what a surgeon’s knife couldn’t - my dreams. The Challenge was the tool God used to break through the paralyzing mental fear. This may not seem like a big deal to you, but a few nights ago I dreamed I was running. What a sense of freedom! It was a confirmation that my new attitude towards fitness and health goes deep. I am thankful to know that even my subconscious has had a change of heart. I am confident my running dream was a glimpse into my future. Waiting for the night I dream I fly.

Gym Grandma

 One of the fringe benefits of going to the gym is the inspiring people I meet. It is the “Silver Sneakers,” Senior Citizens, who inspire me the most. They are retired and yet they choose to get up early and start their day with exercise. First of all, I am amazed that they are at the gym at 5:30 am. (When I retire, I plan on killing the proverbial rooster, enjoying a meal of grilled chicken, and sleeping in later!)

The gym has a short indoor track. There is a group of “Three Amigos” who meet every morning to walk and talk. Another consistent member is a short, petite lady, who wears 5K race t-shirts and faithfully works out on the Nautilus circuit. I would guess that she is in her late 60’s. Wednesday, I worked out next to her, and she lowered the seat on the equipment so her legs could touch the floor. The posse of three grandpas snuck in while she set the weights, readjusted the seat higher, winked at me, and slowly slunk away. They of course had a good laugh when she tried to sit down. (Gentlemen friends, I recommend that you write that down in case later in life you have the need to flirt with the pretty grandma at the gym!) She and I had a nice girl talk about how little boys mature from pigtail pulling to seat adjusting. Later, she talked to one of the guys as he took his blood pressure. (See – the flirting worked!) She said that she had her health evaluation the day before, and they set her health age at 76. He exclaimed that this have to be wrong because she was so strong and fit. She laughed and said she was thrilled considering she is 92. I was shocked! I am pretty sure that the pretty grandma would be robbing the cradle if she ended up with the amigo. She is my new hero.

In the pool last night, the twenty-something instructor announced it was my birthday and told everyone I was turning 21. Truth be told, I wouldn’t trade one minute of 52 to start over. I’ve made plenty of mistakes along the way, but they are part of who I am. Some of those mistakes manifested themselves into fat, but it’s rewarding to see it melt away and be replaced with the muscle of good health choices. Gym Grandma has 40 more years of life experience than I do, and she is the perfect visual aid for what morning gym trips will bring. So on my birthday, I raise my glass of water high and toast the passing of another year in the rearview mirror and commit to working hard to make my rear view a much nicer one to look at for the 55 year-old-man I love.

Winning Numbers

I'm 25 today!

Now before all of you think I’ve lost the few marbles I still have in the game or have turned into a liar, let me explain. Twenty-five is not my age. Today the scale says there is 25 fewer pounds than the first day of the AT&T Chairman’s Challenge. Hitting this goal means I am at 33% of my ultimate goal and that makes me want to crunch more numbers.

42: The amount of weight I am down from my very heaviest before the tumors were removed. (Losing the tumors counts as weight loss, but I don’t recommend having body parts removed just to lower the numbers on the scale!)

200: The amount of weight I leg pressed this morning.

130: The number of day since the Chairman’s Challenge was announced, and I faced my fears.

129: The number of days since the Chairman’s Challenge that I have avoided eating cheesecake. (That piece of my friend Carrie’s cheesecake with homemade hot cinammon apples on top was amazing and worth every calorie!)

17: The number of Happy Gave Birth Moments I will have celebrated as of 11:38 tonight. It is so hard to believe it has been 17 years since my “Joymaker” made my life and this world a better place. (Happy Birthday Baby!)

3: How many day I have until my life’s odometer changes to (25x2)+2.

2013: The year that I become chronologically older but physically younger.

I don’t know about you, but I think those are some pretty blessed numbers. In spite of the fact I have never bought a lottery ticket, somehow that would make sense, but just thinking about them reminds me that I’m already a winner. Let me encourage you to take a minute and celebrate your winning numbers today…and please share!

Ballerina Brainwashed

I have a serious question I would like for you to ponder for a moment. Do you think it is odd how many little girls dream of being a ballerina? I’ve considered several possible reasons for this anomaly. Perhaps it’s the beautiful tutu, but if this is the reason, why aren’t more adults who have the constitutional right and freedom to wear whatever they want demanding racks of them at Macy’s? (I can just image an alternate universe where a clerk routinely gets asked where to find the plus-sized tutus.)

Let’s consider the possibility that it is the great employment opportunities. I couldn’t find the specific numbers for ballerinas on the Bureau for Labor Statistics Web site, but it warns there is “intense competition for jobs” because there are way more wanna-be dancers than get-to-bees. I think we can count out career possibilities.

After a few productive minutes of musing, I know I have found the answer! (Be on the look out for this breaking story on 60 Minutes! The rock-n-roll backwards masking of the 70’s and 80’s has got nothing on the Backward Ballerina Brainwashing scandal.) You read it here first. The music that plays in the ballerina jewelry boxes has backward masking and plants nefarious subliminal messages into the brains of parents and the little children who own them. “Yooouuuu waaannnttttt toooooooooooo taaaake ballleeeettttt. Yoooooouuuuu aaaaare a baaaaalllllleeeerrrrrriiiiinnnna.” I have surmised that this is the only reason why my parents gave into my begging when I was seven, and they spent hard-earned cash they didn’t have on lessons at the Centralia, IL community center.  I danced in one recital to the Sleeping Beauty Waltz wearing a bright red and white tutu with white feathers sticking straight up out of my head. My parents will never admit it, but we left that town and never looked back shortly after I danced. I think I know why. Let’s just say that they sent Pat a picture of me in that tutu right after we got engaged. I guess they thought if he could handle that glimpse into my past he could handle anything.

I flirted with dance a few more times in my teenage years. I’m not too proud to admit that I did my share of the Bump, the Locomotive, the Hustle, and, yes, the polka and square dancing. Those days were long gone until three days ago. I went right back to brainwashed as I “danced” with the cartooned teenagers on the Wii Just Dance 4. They tell me I am “cute” and I’ve even earned four stars on one of the songs. (Who cares Joshua earned five stars the first time he tried! It’s on baby! I will eventually beat your score!) I know that I would have greater success executing an amazing Bunny Hop than Hip Hop, but I’m having fun trying. Last night during Aquasize warm up I secretly tried a few of my new Flo Rida hip hop moves in the pools. Yep – brainwashed.

The Gift

I had a very unexpected and unbelievable surprise this past week.  Two friends, who I am sure would prefer to remain anonymous, gave me an Amazon gift card and made me promise to spend it only on myself.  It wasn’t for Christmas, or my birthday.  It was just because.  I have to tell you I was speechless.   The value of the gift went far beyond the generous amount and the kind note that came with it.  The unexpected benefit was that it made me sit down and think about what I wanted.  Do you know what I discovered?  We always have a wishlist of tools for my husband.  (Tim the Toolman has got nothing on my honey only Pat skilfully uses the tools!)  There are several items I would like to get for my boys.  (Anyone out there have a kid that doesn’t come with a foot-long invisible shopping list?) When it came down to it, I honestly couldn’t think of one thing that I wanted other than a magical home that always stays clean, but I couldn’t find that on Amazon.  Yes - I am blessed and contented.

I started to pay attention during my daily routine to see if there was anything that would be nice to have.  I realized I needed a water-proof bag to bring my wet things home from the pool when the plastic grocery bag I was using got a hole and the floor board of my car turned into a swimming pool for ants.  When I was shopping the next day, I noticed some kids checking out a dance game on the Wii.  I had a Time Warp moment and flashed back to when I danced to the oldies every evening.  (I will never be able to listen to Big Girl’s Don’t Cry without hearing Richard’s voice!)  You guessed it.  My new Just Dance 4 came today.  I am going to melt the fat away with my new hot Moves like Jagger.  (Don’t worry – that isn’t seismic activity you’re feeling; It’s me dancing.)

I love my new bag and game, but what my friends’ loving gift gave me was the realization that what I really want for myself is to continue with this journey to increase my health and fitness.  Thank you my friends!  Your gift was priceless.

Balancing Act

When I was a young kid, we had a fun game called Tip-it.  (See picture below) Yes.  I played the first edition which was copyrighted in 1965 so you do the math!  You had to remove disks that had different point values off of the free-moving base while making sure an Acrobat didn’t fall off of his perch.  The first person to lift disks worth a total of 100 points from the spinning and bouncing base without making the man crash won the game. The entire time that poor little guy was standing on his head just waiting for the inevitable fall.  The games by-line was “the wackiest balancing game ever” and I believed it. Oh, the innocence of youth!

At this moment, I am feeling like the Tip-it man.  I am standing on my head with very wide eyes.  My balancing perch swayed quite a bit when I first decided to earn life points for going to the gym, Aquasize, and nutritional eating.  I have shared in other posts how afraid I was of falling at that time; however, these choices have become routine and are no longer rocking my balancing perch.  (In fact, I would like to think that all those stomach crunches have increased my core strength and improved my balance!)

It’s time to try to add one more thing to my balancing game.  I have a life goal to earn a master’s degree, and I am half way to that goal.  When I take a class, I get very little sleep, and every free minute is spent reading, in on-line discussions, and writing papers.  I love it, but my perch spins fast and if it wasn’t for my family’s willingness to pitch in and help with home responsibilities, I couldn’t hold on.  This time there will be an even bigger challenge.  How can I possibly get all my school work done and continue with my trips to the gym and pool?  For my other classes, I got up at 5 am to write, and I would work late into the night after I got off work.  Now my early mornings are for the gym and evenings include the pool.  My new health priority means I will not quit my new habits, and my men can’t exercise for me.   In fact, I wouldn’t want them to even if they could.  (Wow – what have I become?) I am carefully studying my schedule and trying to determine how I can balance church, work, my family, the abused children I spend time with, and my health, which are non-negotiable, and still pursue the dream of my masters.  I haven’t figured it out so my Tip-it base isn’t rocking yet, but my head sure is spinning just thinking about it   Praying for wisdom to know how to hold on to life – the wackiest balancing game ever.

Hurdle Jumping

Life has been really crazy the last little bit. I traveled out of town for business, a wedding, to move my son, and to see my family. The gym’s pool closed for renovations, and I fought a nasty cough for two weeks. Because of the travel, I had limited eating choices which prevented me from following my eating plan and exercise was not as frequent.  I have to admit I am thankful for these hurdles. They were perfectly place in this journey.  

I had become a robotic Jillian Michaels exercise maniac and a boring Chef Boyardee, mini-meal maker on remote control. Needing to jump these huddles made me think about my choices and transition my new approach to health into real life. I found ways to exercise outside the gym and made conscientious food choices.  I ate a piece of wedding cake, had a slice of my brother’s birthday cake and a candy cane cookie that mom makes once a year, and I relished a few pieces of chocolate my friends gave me for Christmas.  I don’t regret these food choices. They were done in moderation.  I didn’t lost control.  They were celebrations.

I’ve had many small victories in this race since Thanksgiving that make me thankful.  I have lost 20 pounds and 10 inches, but it is the little celebrations that mean more than the numbers.

• I flew in a plane without needing an extension…Skinny friends - I bet you thought the extension was just a flight attendant’s visual aid to show people how to fasten the seat belt didn’t you?
• My clothes are getting sloppy.  (What are the chances that the baggy clown clothes look will be in style this Spring?) 
• I shopped for a dress for my friend Jillian’s wedding.  I tried on a size smaller than I used to wear.  It was too big, and they didn’t have the next smaller size. 
•  I wore a dress I haven’t worn for eight years to the wedding instead. (I am SO glad I didn’t get rid of that dress, but I have to confess that I needed to wash it first because a layer of dust was vacationing on its shoulders.
• I ordered online the dress I tried on in the store three sizes smaller than where I started hoping it would fit for my friend Erin’s June wedding.  It came today, and (cue choir singing) it fits and I love it!

I am positive there will be more hurdles, but I am prepared to keep jumping and to celebrate the small victories when they come.