my evolving bowl of oatmeal

This month is my two-year anniversary of my journey to better health, and I'm proof that small steps do add up to big change.

In two years I've lost 50 pounds, competed in a duathalon, stopped drinking coffee with sugar or artificial sweeteners, have packed the majority of my lunches to work, became a vegetarian, ran a 5K, am running every day, shop at least once a week at a local farmers market, and try to eat only fresh fruits and vegetables one day a week.

All that is not what I intended two years ago, and as a matter of fact, if I had known that much change would transpire (or that it would take TWO years!), I probably wouldn't have started. But for me, it was about one small step stacked on top of another and another until eventually I am where I am today. And two years from now, I'll be somewhere entirely different.

My bowl of oatmeal this morning is a perfect analogy.

I'd been eating those instant packs of oatmeal for breakfast for awhile, and then found out I didn't like the sweetener that was used in them. What I thought was a healthy way to start my day was actually pretty crappy given the amount of sugar I was consuming. So I switched to quick rolled oats, and my breakfast looked like this:

1/4 cup rolled oats, 1/2 cup of water, dash of cinnamon, a couple tablespoons of brown sugar and a swirl of half-and-half.

I cut out the half-and-half. And when I ran out of brown sugar, I didn't buy more. I bought honey instead.

My bowl of oatmeal is now this:

1/4 cup rolled oats, 3/4 cup of water, dash of cinnamon, two teaspoons of honey and fresh fruit (either a half a banana or fresh peaches).

Small steps = big change.

I should also tell you I'm not perfect.

I recently binged on Pringles and Wheat Thins, and ate a pint of ice-cream. And I ate way too much macaroni and cheese at a friend's house, precipitating a 36-hour fruit fast that I broke with salmon and summer vegetables. My body was SO GLAD for FRESHNESS after the crap I'd forced it to consume.

Oh yeah, and I'm also not a size 2, and I get frustrated (still!) by the numbers on the scale. I'm trying to make peace with it: maybe it's not about the numbers, maybe it's about overall health.

And maybe, in two years, I'll finally be reconciled with that notion. :)

post-race report

F that.

That was my predominant thought yesterday on the return 5 miles of my 10-mile bike ride. I did a lot of mental cursing, actually, and on the last 1/2 mile-long climb at about Mile No. 9, I was audible in expressing my distaste for the stupid hill. To the police officer who was directing traffic at my left-hand turn, and who had traffic backed up waiting for me to traverse the last little bit of yet another hill, I said, "I don't ever want to do that again."

Then I rounded the bend, and saw my family there yelling for me, and it was awesome.

But for real, the ride definitely had some rough moments for me. Like, right out of the gate when we had to climb, climb, climb. I wasn't expecting that. I'd never been on the route before and really had no idea. For the first time, about a half-mile into the whole thing, the thought crossed my mind that maybe I wouldn't be able to finish.

On the way back, on the last big hill, my legs were moving just enough to keep me upright on the bike. I tried not to glance in front of me, but rather focused on the white line moving (slowly!) beneath me, all the while repeating to myself, "One pedal in front of the other." In retrospect, that doesn't even make sense, but before I knew it, I had crested the hill and was coasting down.

A couple times I closed my eyes. I sucked water out of my water bottle and put myself into a coughing fit once. I was smoked by a 7-year-old. About Mile No. 3, my head started pounding. I did not fall, but wobbled a couple times. I really considered walking my bike up the last big hill, but was afraid that once I got off, I wouldn't be able to get back on. I never got off. I never stopped. I didn't realize how technical riding a bike is; I know I made it difficult for myself by being in the wrong gear at the beginning of climbing, and then shifting down too soon. By about Mile No. 8, I was catching on.

Some things I thought about on the way:

1) I will never pass anyone.
2) The downhill you're enjoying now is waiting for you on the way back.
3) I don't ever want to do this again.
4) If Lance Armstrong can do this with one testicle, by golly, I can do it too.
5) I don't want to be last.
6) I wonder what I look like right now.
7) I feel powerful.
8) I'm doing this inhibited by a disease, but I'm still doing it.
9) This sucks.
10) Forget everything I said about it "just" being 10 miles.
11) It's all mental. Whatever. No, it's not.
12) My ass hurts. So do my arms, back, shoulders, neck. And, oh yeah, my legs.

Surprisingly to me, when I got off and handed the timing chip to my relay buddy, I wasn't as wobbly-legged as I'd been expecting. And about 30 minutes later, I was tentatively ready to do it again.

Lauren and I finished third in our division. I placed 58 out of 71 on the bike portion - 10 miles in 56 minutes. I haven't done anything physical for 56 straight minutes in a really long time. The first time I even rode the bike was Thursday.

And it felt really cool to win a little trophy.

riding a bike, getting drunk on wine

I rode my borrowed German bike a few miles yesterday. It's the second time I've ridden it. Duathlon is tomorrow. You do the math.

Anyway, that's neither here nor there.

After I rode three or four miles, whichever it was, I felt good, like I could ride for hours more. And then I stepped off the bike, and almost fell over.

That's when I realized that exercising on a bike and getting drunk on wine are very similar experiences - you don't realize how you're effected until you stand up.

As previously mentioned, Tough Cookie is tomorrow. While my teammate and I are determined to win the relay division, we know that "winning isn't everything, but trying to win is." So we're going to try, and see how that works out.

I've been advised not to run or ride today, which is advice I'm heeding even though I'd like to get at least one of both in. Even though I'm not running in the Tough Cookie, I do have a 5k and a 10k coming up in recent weeks that I'd like to participate in, so I feel like I need to run.

Plus, it's fun.

I can't believe I just said that.

So I've got my helmet, and a memory foam bike seat pad, and leggings and a close fitting shirt. I've got a water-bottle holder, and a little pouch that's going somewhere on the bike.

I'm excited.
Tomorrow I'm racing!

it's the first day of the rest of 2011

There's been something nostalgic about this day, this first day of March. I can't figure out what it is, but I have a few ideas:

1) It's the first day of the rest of 2011. That's worth celebrating, right?
2) In January, I started my business.
3) In February, I registered for my first race.
4) By today, I've lost 51 pounds.
5) I volunteered, I fund-raised.
6) I exercised faith, and learned more.
7) I took a trip.
8) I learned how to maybe, sorta, kinda like running.

Today is the first day of the rest of my 2011.

And it's bound to be good.

350, and duathalon news

This is my 350th post, which I feel should be special, but it's not likely.

Instead, I will express my deepest gratitude when we discovered that the scheduled duathalon on Sunday can be done relay-style. I haven't felt that joyous inside for a long time.

You see, I'd been training pretty diligently, still wasn't up to running 2 miles, and feeling like I wanted to back out, but couldn't because I've already written two columns about racing, and committed to a bunch of people.

Uh-huh, pride.

And this morning I was stressing out because I still didn't have a bike, I haven't ridden a bike in YEARS, the guy at the bike shop made it sound so incredibly complicated, I realized I needed a helmet too, and it was all kind of expensive. I told my friend Emily, who's doing the whole thing with us, that it wasn't the physical part that worried me, it was the logistics.

I would be the one who'd be worried about where to park the bike I didn't have over if my legs could carry me the last 1.6 miles.

Organizational freak.

So Lauren and I were discussing how we still didn't have a bike (as we have been for the past two weeks) when our office lady said she has a brand new road bike we could borrow. Lauren looked at each other like, "Haven't we been discussing this for two weeks?" but we graciously accepted. I'm picking up the bike tomorrow and will begin practicing.

The plan is for Lauren to run the first 1.6 miles, I'll bike the 10, and Lauren will finish up with the 1.6. She was worried about the biking, I was worried about the running, so it's a good deal.

I think.

Like I said, I haven't been on a bike in way too long.

I'm a little worried that this lowers my coolness factor among the ranks. I won't be a full duathlete. BUT, as Lauren pointed out numerous times today, we both still get our own goodie bags, which comes with a t-shirt and massage. And maybe a commemorative cup.

So. To summarize, I'm doing this for myself and for all the other women out there who've never done this before, but somehow think in 4 days, they can be ready for a 10-mile bike ride.

We soooooo got this.

imprinting my heart in the pavement

I left my office today for lunch. And I found a park with a walk/run trail, and I ran.

To think I sought this venture with the intent to clear my cluttered mind is astounding to me. Somehow, today, I needed to feel the fire in my lungs, and hear the pounding of my feet on the pavement. I needed to concentrate on the rhythm of my breathing instead of the irregularity of my recent emotions.

Perhaps also, I needed to punish myself, and the best way I know how right now is to subject myself to hyperventilating on a sidewalk in pursuit of my recent ambition.

Whatever the case, I ran outside today in perfect weather, as opposed to the other time I tried to jog outside.

It's probably no surprise to you that while I focused on putting one foot in front of the other at a fast pace, I was reflecting on life, my life, and the actual race coming up in 12 days.

This is where running took a philosophical turn for me.

I could see my brother, Daniel, supporting me, only he couldn't actually run this race with me because it's women only. So I thought that perhaps he could run alongside the race path next to me.

But then quickly I realized this race is mine, and I'll run it alone.

That's not a realization I want.

The person I want beside me, can't be.
He's a boy; I'm a girl.

There's a canyon between what I want and what I can't have.
Dramatic, perhaps, but true.

It's tough to realize that it's my own two legs that'll have to carry me.
I guess it'll make me one Tough Cookie.

The voices in my head were quieted some.
I couldn't hear them over the pounding of my heart on the asphalt.

March 6th is my race date, my do-or-die date, my it's-all-on-the-line-and-up-to-me date.

In the meantime, I'll keep running this marathon called Life, my do-or-die, it's-all-on-the-line-and-up-to-me beautiful life.

She told me to!

You know how when you're five years old and you steal a handful of M & Ms from the candy jar, and then when confronted, you point at your younger sibling and sob, "She told me to!" ?

That was me Thursday.

I got home from work and decided to take a run outside.

She told me to!

But when my triathlete friend suggested I start running outside in preparation for my Tough Cookie duathalon in 23 days, I don't think she meant to run outside in 33-degree coldness with a sore throat, headache and low grade fever.

I really think this decision has to go down as one of Holly's 100 worst.

I ended up walking more than I ran, didn't even make it a mile, spit repeatedly, and cursed out loud.

Today might be a good day to run outside. It's 70-something, the sun is shining and my fever is gone.

But what's the fun in that?

Tough Cookie

I could copy and paste it, but instead I'm directing you here to read my newspaper column this week FOR SOME EXCITING NEWS!!

Go read it, and then come back here. Hurry now!

Okay, so now you know I'm 'competing' in the 2011 Tough Cookie Duathalon!!!

!!!!!!! what am I thinking !!!!!!!!

I'm telling myself I'm going to be alright with just crossing the finish line. But if truth be told (and I like telling the truth) it'd be freaking awesome to break a record!

Freaking awesome? Yes.
Likely: No.

Family members are laying bets on how fast I'll run my 1.6 miles. My brother's (offensive!) guess was 20-something minutes. For 1.6 miles!

After the half-mile I ran last night, it's a completely reasonable guess.

I was winded, but not bad. But I really had to coax myself through the last three-tenths of the brutal half.

I'm *trying* to take it easy while also realizing I have 30 days to "get ready."

The possibility of me dying through this process is likely, though as a friend reminded me yesterday, I was born dying. So why not speed up the process by tripping and falling on the tread mill, which didn't happen last night, but probably will by the time all's said and done.

I'm not the most graceful of athletes.

Oh, speaking of athlete, upon successful completion of the race, I will forever and always want to be referred to as Holly: The Duathlete.

"Hi, do you know my friend Holly: The Duathlete?"
"This is my Duathlete Daughter Holly."
"Meet my 90-year-old duathlete grandmother, Holly."

Eeeeek!!! I'm so excited.

Special thanks to all my super-athletic friends who've given me splendid advice over the last 30 hours and have helped me modify my already-extremely-modified diet for proper protein, carbs, etc.

Oh, AND!! I'm so excited for EVERYONE who's going to race WITH me, including two, maybe three sisters, my brother's girlfriend, a couple friends and a couple coworkers.

And love to my mom, who even if the sun goes down and I still haven't crossed the finish line, I know will still be waiting for me.

Now, enough of the mamby-pamby sentimentalism. Time to get down to business for this Tough Cookie.