The COLOR Run - Lots of Pics!!!

Okay. So, it turns out that I was in such a funk, I never really gave an update on The Color Run. What an AMAZING day. It was **really** cold that day. It was in the low 40's when we left the house. I was extremely nervous for the entire car ride to Cincinnati. I thought I was getting there early, but I guess about 10,000 other people had a better definition of early than I did. It was just exciting to pull up and see all those people.

Everyone was stark white - the only colors I saw were some neon socks here and there, and a rainbow brite wig. Matt went with me to the start area and we stood and people watched for a bit. I was really anxious, and didn't want him to leave. I was petrified to be by myself in a group this large. Everyone was there with friends, or family, and I was alone. PETRIFIED. I finally agreed to let him leave, and I started walking towards the start. I burrowed my way in until I was about 2 blocks from the start. I put my headphones in, and gave myself a pep talk. Who cares if I was alone? I had been losing weight on my own. I had been training for this race alone. I had been working out alone. This was after all, about me. It had started as something for Madie and I, but it was really about me. I had done everything else alone... Why couldn't I do this?

I started getting more and more excited as the countdowns for each wave began. But if I heard "Call me Maybe" one more time - I was going to freak out. I turned the volume up, and did my best to drown out everyone else. Another countdown - inching forward. I finally sent Matt a text that said I thought I would be in the next wave or two. He was down by the river with my parents waiting for me to run by. OMG. They're counting. 5....4...3....2....1... GOOOOO!!!!

It was hard to start running - there were soo many people around - some walking, some running, some dancing. I was bobbing and weaving my way through the crowd until I could get some personal space, and I set in. Looking back now, I was going a little bit faster than I should have. I was getting tired quick. The thought of stopping to walk was just starting to creep into my head when I saw the first color station ahead of me - and just beyond that, Matt, my Mom and my Dad. The three people in the world that love me more than anything else were here for me. They came to see me run, and be successful. I will run until they are out of my sight, and then I will walk.

I made my way through the first color station (a walking break, luckily) and to my family. I started smiling when I saw them - and I saw them WAAAAYYYY before they saw me. Matt was filming me. Dad was taking pictures on their camera, and Mom was frantically screaming my name and waving. My own personal cheering section. My heart swelled. As soon as I passed them, tears streamed down my cheeks. They BELIEVED in me. It sent a jolt of adrenaline through me that carried me to the next walking point. Ahem, I mean, color station.

It really was impossible to run through the color. Everyone was walking. Some were crawling through it. I actually saw several people (at different checkpoints) actually rolling through it. Everything was just dreamlike. This was easier than I had expected it to be. The costumes were outrageous - tutus, halos, fairy wings, wigs, fake mustaches, you name it - I saw it. I even saw a bride in her wedding dress running with her groom in a tuxedo t-shirt.

When I came to my family on the way back, I stopped. Matt had held my color packets for me so I wouldn't have to carry them while I ran. He handed them to me, and they took some pictures and told me how proud of me they were. I could feel the tears coming again, so I told them I would see them at the finish line and took off. Really? The finish line? It was amazing. The sidewalks of the last block of the race were lined with thousands of people - runners, volunteers, supporters, and everyone was cheering. It was a pretty profound moment for me. In July - I had never ran more than a few seconds without getting winded. Now here it was, the first Saturday in October, and I had just crossed the finish line of my first 5K. I had set a goal of 45 minutes for the race. I completed it in 41:06 - and that was with the color station stops, and my little chat with my family before the dash to the finish. Not only had I done it, I had run every part that I could. I had done it faster than I had aimed for, and I did it alone.

It really was an amazing day - and a HUGE victory for myself. =)

Just getting there...  

Showing off my Color Run shoes...  <3

A sea of people in white 3 city blocks long...

Waiting for my wave!!

Getting closer to the start!

This is one of the Color stations, I wanted to show how crowded they really were. 

Mid race self-pic  =)

My Mama brought me a water to the finish line...  <3

I had a FANTASTIC time!

After the race at the finish line color festival

 

I did it!  I AM A COLOR RUNNER!!!

<3

The funny part is, I had wiped half of it off my face by the time we thought to take this picture.  =)

A Letter to Myself

Hey you.  Yes you.  The FatGirl staring at me.  I see you.  Can you see me?  I see the way you look at yourself.  I see the pain.  The frustration.  The disappointment.  The shame.  The pure HATE you hold in your heart.  I can see you.   

I can see in your eyes everything you've done, and I know what you want.  I know every calorie you've counted, every calorie you "forgot", every lunge you've taken, every mile you've ran.  I know every cheat you've taken, and every excuse you've made.  I know every second you've spent obsessing, every minute spent researching, every hour spent imagining.  I know. 

I have felt in your heart every beat of fear; every pitter-patter of pride, and every cracking break of defeat.  I know the breath in your lungs, and the length of your stride. I know about the sleepless nights, and the mornings slept in.  I know every thought in your head; every wretched memory, every hopeful dream, and every self-loathing reality. 

I know the disgusted looks you've been given.  I know the horrible words whispered in your ear.  I know the jokes that have been told about you.  I know every scar on your heart.  I know your dreams.  I know your insecurities.  I know your fear, your hate, and your lack of faith. 

I can feel you giving up.  I can feel you losing hope, and talking yourself into quitting.  I know you think you are lazy.  I also know that you know better.  Laziness, and a lack of faith in yourself are not the same thing. 
You would get up and workout if you KNEW with 100% of your heart that it would work this time.  You would stop sabotaging yourself if you KNEW with 100% certainty that things would change.  Laziness is knowing those things, and not doing anything about it.   

Here's the difference in what you know, and what you BELIEVE.  You know that it's going to work - if you put in the work.  You know that you are capable of this.  You've been there before.  But the belief in yourself is missing - and THAT is what is stopping you.  You know you CAN do this - but the years of teasing, and mocking, and dirty looks, and horrible jokes, and the crying, and the self-loathing, and using food as a coping mechanism - has you doubting yourself. 

I believe in you.  Your husband and children believe in you.  Your parents believe in you.  Your friends believe in you.  Even strangers believe in you.  Why?  Because you have done everything you need to - to get the job done.  You have talked a big game, and the only one that doubts you can do it - is YOU.   

I know you better than you know yourself.  I remember all the things you don't.  I remember every time you made the right choice.  I remember every time you did it, when you didn't want to.  I remember every time you've proved everyone else wrong.  I remember everyone else's words of faith, belief, and motivation.  I remember every goal you’ve set, every task you’ve conquered, every time you’ve proved yourself wrong. 

What you don’t know is – I have had every experience with you.  I AM you.  I am your reflection, your mirror image, the person you long to be.  I am the FitChick inside.  I am the skinny girl banging your head – raging inside to come out.  I have been here all along.  I am your personal cheerleader, the high five you get when working out alone.  I am the courage you have to stand up to your haters.  I am the sparkle in your eye you saw when that third chin disappeared.  I was the tears you cried when you fit into those jeans at the Gap.  I was the voice in your head on Saturday at the race telling you to go just ONE more block.  I am the butterflies in your stomach when he tells you how beautiful you are.  And I am getting stronger.
   
I am you.  I am inside.  I am every breath, every heartbeat, every muscle cramp, and every craving.  I am here, and I’m not leaving.  I am your constant reminder of what you want. 

Ever notice that I don’t go away?  Every time you quit – I am still in your head telling you what you need to hear.  It’s time.  I’ve had enough.  I don’t want to live like this anymore.  I am always here, and I will NEVER go away.  I will continue to scream and fight until I succeed.  I know eating right and working out is hard.  But being fat and hating yourself is hard too.   Which hard do we want? 

So it didn’t happen like we planned.  Things not happening fast enough?  Results not showing quick enough?  BOO FUCKING HOO.  Who’s fault is that?  It’s yours.  Because you believe what you have been told your entire life.  You believe you are the FatGirl that people have been mocking since the 3^rd grade.  And you don’t believe in ME.  You don’t believe there is a skinny girl inside literally DYING to come out.   

Are you tired of starting over?  THEN QUIT GIVING UP.  You CAN do this.  And I won't shut up until you do.  I’m here – and I’m not going anywhere.  

 <3 – The SkinnyGirl 

It's getting worse...

I know I am beating a dead horse here.  Two posts in one day on the same damn topic.  I am sinking, and sinking fast. 

Matt just asked me what was wrong.  I sent him a message saying, long story short, I weigh the same today as I did in March.  I told him that I am disgusted with myself.  That I need to make a decision.  That I need to either give 100%, or give up. 

He told me NO way.  100%, and he would help me. 

The only response I can think of?  I just don't think I have it in me anymore. 

This might be the last of the FatGirl...

I want to quit.

I know a lot of people will not understand this. I had a great weekend, and met one of my long term goals. The Color Run was this weekend. I ended up running it alone, since Madie is still recovering from her surgery. I set a goal for myself to try to complete the race in 45 minutes. I finished in 41:06!!! I was ecstatic! I was so proud of myself. I gave it my all. I didn't quit, and I didn't walk. I completed my veryfirstever 5k, and did it faster than I wanted to. I should be flying high right now - but I'm not. I almost feel like I should make this two separate posts, but this is it. This is me and how I feel right now. I am seriously discouraged.

If you have been following my blog for a while, you know that I started on a new higher calorie diet back in March. There is a new "theory" called Eat More to Weigh Less, or EMTWL, for short. I am not going to go into the long drawn out explanation of it now. If you want more details, go back to the post from March 22, called This is Crazy!! Prior to that date in March, I had been on a plateau for about 6 weeks. I had been on 1200 calories, had been doing the 30DS, and had been pretty successful, losing close to 70 pounds. Then it just stopped. I didn't change anything, it's not that I quit working out, or quit eating right, I just stopped losing weight. 

I started researching plateau's. I found out lots of information, and along the way stumbled upon the EMTWL philosophy. It seemed to be the answer I needed. I slowly started upping my calories. I slowed down on the cardio, and started lifting heavy. I knew from my studies that I would put on a few pounds - water weight, muscle weight, etc. Well, that happened. I was at 216 on March 16th, when I did my Humana Vitality screening for my health insurance. Within a few weeks, I was up to 223. I was not alarmed, and in fact had expected this gain - initially. But I thought those 7 pounds would fall back off. It hasn't happened.

Here we are, 6 months later. Guess how much I weighed when I stepped on the scale this morning? 223.4. I am actually 7 pounds heavier than I was in March. I haven't quit. I haven't been eating crap. I work out at LEAST 3 days a week. I have not changed a thing. And I still weigh the same thing. I can not explain the amount of disappointment, shame and absolute exhaustion I feel right now. I want to quit. This is fucking bullshit. I starve myself, and I lose, but then plateau. I eat the way I am supposed to, and exercise faithfully. I gave it time for my body to adjust. I stayed away from the scale so I wouldn't freak out. I took measurements and progress pictures. I drank water like it was my job, and quit drinking all the other crap. I gave up fast food. I ate clean 90% of the time. I turned down dessert after dessert, and beer after beer. I am still wearing the same clothes. I still can't wear a bikini, and my cruise is in 41 days. I am in tears.

I have NOTHING to show for it.

When I calculated all my information, height, weight, BMR, BMR, blahblahblah, it told me the amount of calories that I needed for my body to function properly. It was enough to keep my body healthy and fueled for the workouts I was giving myself, but enough of a deficit for me to lose weight. Well, apparently, 1900 is my maintenance number, not my weight loss number. I need to drop some calories, and see what happens.

I tell myself that, but honestly, I just want to quit. I still see the same person that has always been there in the mirror. Matt says he loves me the way I am, and in all honesty, he loved me when I was 70 pounds heavier. The kids tell me all the time that I am not fat. I know better. I know I am, and I know that medically, I am still in the morbidly obese category. But I am getting to the point where I just don't give a fuck. I work my ass off, and I am actually HEAVIER than I was in March. And it's not that I am losing crazy inches, because I am still wearing the same damn clothes. Something is NOT right here.

I work, and work and work. I'm not skinnier. I'm not healthier. My BF% is still the same. I am still sucking in my stomach for pictures. I was embarrassed of the photos taken of me at the race. I should be proud, and I did post the pictures. I am NOT proud though. I am disgusted with myself and my progress. There is NO way I am going to meet any of my cruise goals. I won't be 160 I like I set out to be in March. I won't even get to ONEderland by then. I would have to lose a 1/2 pound a day to get there.

So now, I am asking myself a question. How do I make myself continue this journey, when all I want to do is quit? I have all the reasons in my head. Because I don't want to have this conversation with myself this time next year. Because I don't want to spend another summer hiding from shorts, dresses, and bathing suits. Because I DO want to get there someday. Because, because, because!!! There are soooo many reasons to keep going.

And I still want to quit. Will I? I highly doubt it. But I want to.

Still the FatGirl.