But damn I’m tired after work. Looks like pasta with olive oil and garlic again tonight. But at least it’s whole wheat…

It’s a beautiful day outside, but instead of going out and enjoying it, I’m curled up on the couch watching the Skins game. I’m kinda psyched–they’re already recovered a fumble and it’s only 3 minutes into the game. And I’m digging the pink shoes, gloves and hand towels in support of Breast Cancer Awareness Month.

I’m leaving for Mexico on Thursday for a long weekend. Keep checking back for food and activity reports! I’ve been told everything is super fresh and local (at least where I’m going.) I’m staying in the mountains so there will be many photos of pyramids, churches and various things I like during our many hiking expeditions.

I ran my race!!!! And since I’m sitting here typing this, it is fair to say that I did it WITHOUT DYING! That’s the most important thing.

Friday night, I met up with Becca and her boyfriend, Chris, out in Fairfax for some quality Chinese food and some minor shopping. I decided I wanted a runner’s belt after Helen, my friend slash race organizer, told me there would be a water stop only at the half mile point. (There was a concurrent one mile “fun run” for the kids and organizers wanted them to be able to get water too). I knew from my training that I’d need a lot more water than that. But I also hate holding things while I’m doing anything active. Solution? Runners belt with a clip for a water bottle. Win.

What did I come home with? A runners belt with a water bottle. And a new pair of Nike running capris (wearing them right now. Uber comfy). And a cute Nike shirt that says “I’m so official, I don’t need the whistle.” And running socks. The belt was $10. My other impulse buys totaled $95. I’m normally very fiscally conservative so I’m justifying it by saying that I’ll use them a lot, thus bringing the cost-per-use to almost 0.

Because honestly, it’s not how fast you go. It’s not whether you finish. It’s about how cute you look doing it.

Starting the race was great. It was a charity race to benefit my church’s school (of which I’m a graduate of), so our pastor offered a blessing over the racers before the gun went off. I’m definitely not a holy roller, but I felt a lot better knowing God and some extra angels were running with me on the road that morning.

And it was cold. I didn’t pay attention to how warm it was going to be at 6am when I listened to the weather report. It was habit. Normally I’m snuggled deep under my awesome comforter at that hour. I was way under dressed to be just standing around in 45 degree weather, but once I got running, it was perfect. I think I created enough heat to power a large industrial complex or two, but the coolness of the air made me feel room temperature.

The first mile totally sucked. My body completely protested to even moving that early. The water station was right where Helen said it would. Mile 0.5.

You are fucking kidding me. I’m only at half a mile? I was in the middle of the group starting out, and it seemed like everyone and their brother passed me. I refused to look back to try to orient myself. The race is against you. Fuck the rest of them. I turned up my iPhone so I couldn’t hear the other runner’s footsteps and just focused. I lost myself in the Carbon Leaf blaring through my headphones and ran.

Coming down to the finish line is a feeling that I don’t think I could even describe. Helen made sure there were plenty of volunteer cheerleaders to root for any runner coming across the line. Hearing the cheers was great. Two of my choir buddies, Helen, her husband and their two kids were standing next to the lane barriers to watch me finish.

Not gonna lie, as I ran towards the finish line, I totally imagine a montage in my head. Slo mo and chariots of fire style. I looked fabulous in it, too.

Crossing the line was the best moment of my life so far. I worked so hard this past year to get the weight off and keep it off. It’s been slow going. I have fought for every single damn one of those pounds. There were nights when I cried myself to sleep because my muscles hurt so badly. Because of those down moments, the highs are euphoric. It took everything in my power not to tear up.

I finished the 5k in 37:23, which comes out to exactly a 12 minute mile. I had been running 11 minute miles the week before. But I didn’t run in the five days before the race, and rarely run outside where there are the bitchy little things called “hills.” So I’ll take the minute gain. Gives me something to work towards later.

Helen and I might be running a turkey trot together in November!

In an effort to engage any readers I may have—do you have a first race/competition story? Comment to share!

I don’t know if it’s the uber cute new running outfit I bought or if I’m actually getting psyched for the race, but I’m really excited.

This has been a long time coming. As I mentioned in early blogs/rantings, I started running last fall in preparation for a 5k in December. Why I thought it would be alright to run outside during winter is beyond me, but whatever. I do wild and crazy things. The race got cancelled. I focused on spinning and not running. And now I’m back to running again.

I think like a lot of fat kids, I’ve wanted to be athletic all my life. I was always picked last in gym class. I was so bad, I got picked last in HEALTH CLASS when we were choosing teams for trivia competitions.

I tried so hard to be good at sports. When I ran on the basketball court, I ran harder than anyone. I ran the wrong way, but I ran. When I swam, I kicked harder than anyone. And could barely make a full lap in under a minute. I was so accustomed to residing in the back of the pack that I just stopped trying.

But this past summer, I was actually relevant to my softball team. It’s beer league softball, but still, it’s a team and we exert energy. When I went hiking with Becca on that godawful billy goat trail, I was tired but I made it. I’m looking better and feeling better, even on my down days.

I’m excited and nervous as hell about tomorrow. In the back of my head, there’s this little voice, Insecure And Crazy Mel, telling me that I haven’t really made as much progress as I think I have. I’m not going to run as fast as I want to. I’m not going to be able to finish the race. I’m going to walk across the finish line. The course officials are going to pick me up in their cars and drive me back. I’m going to be last. People are going to laugh at me. I’ve just imagined the weight loss. I’m still a fat ass.

But at the same time, I know I can do it. Sane Mel rolls her eyes at Insecure And Crazy Mel. I may not have run 3 miles all at once, but I’ve biked ten times as far in spin class with some wicked strong resistance. I’m also stubborn as hell. I’ll finish it. Worse comes to worse, I’ll just imagine I’m being chased by zombies. Or worse. Dallas fans. (Go Skins!)

So updates, most likely with pictures, will come tomorrow. I’m at least starting the race with my choir buddy Patty. (We’ve both agreed that after the starting shot, it’s every woman for herself).  She’s lost 85 pounds in the past year. Between the two of us there’s nearly 140 lost. I’m so proud of all the hard work she’s done! Such an inspiration to me!

I’m headed to bed now. I’m getting up way earlier than I think she be allowed on a Saturday so I can eat, get ready, and make it to the race site on time. Wish me luck everyone!

This was me when I started this whole thing in late July 2009.

And this is me as of this afternoon.

What a difference a year makes!

So I woke up at 4 fucking 30am on Friday morning to go running. It was surprisingly easy, but I’m going to go with I was just excited for something new. I made it to the appointed Starbucks about 3 minutes before everyone took off running.

“Sorry this is a weird week,” Sandi, the organizer told me. “The 5k runners already left around 430. They all had somewhere to be at 6.” Who the fuck has somewhere to be at 6am?!?! I’m usually still asleep! She explained the loop and asked if I would mind running alone.

“Um, I guess?” I didn’t see what choice I had. Everyone else seemed a lot faster than me. Whether I started with them or not, I’d probably be running alone at some point.

“Hey, I’m going to walk some then run a little, if you want to come with me.” A pretty brunette in black running pants, blue yoga top and a blinking red light on her baseball cap waved at me.

“Mel, this is Janice,” Sandi said. “She’s good to run with.”

Sounded great. A little walking, some running, things would be easy. Three miles in no time. And then we started.

Janice walks faster than my run. After a few blocks, she suggested we “jog a little.” Which meant going even faster. Within half a mile, I was already winded.

“So what got you into running?” Janice asked me, like we were enjoying a casual stroll down the waterfront.

“I…ne….duh…to…lose…way…tuh.”

“Great! Running is an excellent way to get that weight off. I’ve started slowing down lately though. I’m 18 weeks pregnant.”

Seriously?!? Seriously!! Please. I looked more pregnant than she did. And she was faster than me. Janice also explained that she did rowing in college. Then she came to DC, joining the DC Rowing Club, and after she got married and bought a house, she had to scale back because there was a lot of renovations to do. So instead, she started competing in triathalons.

“Um…I…neeed…towalkforasecond.” Janice looked down at her GPS watch and calculated that we were moving at a 10 minute/mile pace. I usually bounce between 15-12ish, depending on how motivated/tired/hungry/focused I am. That’s almost an entire 2 minutes off my fastest time, on my best day, in my best form. I wanted to die.

I made up some dumb excuse about how I’m coming off an ankle injury (not a total lie), needed to take it easy today (sort of a lie), and it was hurting (complete lie and I’m going to Hell for it.) Janice nodded and slowed down a bit.

Mature Mel would have just said, “Look, I’m new at running. You are not. Would you mind either slowing down a lot, or just giving me directions for the rest of the loop and go on ahead?” But unfortunately, Mature Mel was not awake yet. She was still back at home asleep, along with Sane Mel. The only part of me that was left was Crazy and Insane Mel, as evidenced by the fact that I woke up at 430 to go running with a bunch of strangers on a muggy, drizzly morning that barely counted as morning because it was so close to the night before.

I turned back halfway through the loop. I was only scheduled to do 2.5 miles that day, and I didn’t want to push myself too far the first day out. Plus it was way too early for me to be conscious, and I realized that. Belatedly, but I realized it.

One hour after I started, I was back in my car. My face was flushed, my hair flattened against my scalp, and my glasses were beginning to steam up. Every guy I passed on the road (coming the other way, trust me, I wasn’t passing anyone going the same direction) was hot as hell and I looked like a truck hit me. Great.

Back at my apartment, I realized I actually felt great. No real exhaustion like I thought I’d feel. I showered, wrote some emails I’d been putting off, made coffee, breakfast, did my hair AND make up (big deal if both of them are done at the same time) and made it to the office by 745. My boss about had a heart attack because he’d never seen me that early before. And I was…productive.

I ran up to my boss’s office two floors above mine for a short meeting. Jennifer is a runner too, and I told her all about my running experience.

“That’s great, Mel! Keep it up!” She’s so supportive. “I’m going to type an IM to Mike real quick,” she added. Mike is a colleague of mine, and our polygamist work spouse in that he buys both of us coffee. “Hey Mike, check on Mel a few times today. She went running before work and I think she went off the deep end.” Thanks, Jenn. But he did buy me coffee so I guess I can’t complain.

I was supposed to go running again this morning. But then I woke up and heard the rain outside my window, said “Oh HELL no,” and went back to bed. I did some research and found some evening running clubs. Hopefully that will work out better.

And now I’m going to bed. Cause I’m still exhausted.

In. fucking. sane.

This week has been really bad, work out wise. I forgot my clothes on Monday and by the time I got home from work it was too dark to run. On Tuesday, I had coffee with a friend for 2 hours because we hadn’t seen each other in 14 (no joke, 14) years, and he was leaving the country for a job in Singapore. Yesterday I felt like crap because I’m a woman and it happens. Today I had choir practice that I **had** to be at or else.

So I went online to find some online coupons for new running shoes. No coupons, but I did find a link to a running club sponsored by Pacers running store in Old Town.

And I signed up.

The idea is that I will have a group of people to run with twice or more per week. I love making exercise social events, so this seemed right up my alley.

Except they start at 5 am. Did you know “am” means IN THE FUCKING MORNING?!?! Wtf. I’m willingly getting out of bed at 430 so I can drive to Old Town and meet these people at 5 for a run. In the morning.

My college roommate used to have to pull me out of bed just so I would make my 130 pm class.

I have crossed the bridge to Crazy Town.

So as I’ve mentioned, I started running again. For those of you who have read through the archives, I started running last year as a way to accelerate my weight loss. I signed up for a 5k in December…which was snowed out in the first of DC’s many torrential snow storms. After the 5k didn’t happen, I basically stopped running. I had nothing to train for and it was cold outside, so I decided I didn’t really like it that much. And when faced with bundling up to do something I don’t like that much or snuggling under a blanket on the couch with hot chocolate and a movie, I will always choose the couch.

But then I had to quit personal training. It really scared me, and for good reasons. I absolutely fear the weight returning. About the same time, my soprano buddy Helen (we sing in the church choir together) told me that not only was she chairing the church benefit 5k race on October 2^nd, but she thought I should run. I laughed at her. Then she told me that Tom, our baritone, was running with his son and auxiliary member, Darrin. And our other choir buddy, Patty (who has lost an amazing 70+ lbs this year herself, and looks amazing. I get all her too-big-for-her clothes since I’m about a size or two behind her) signed up too.

I had no choice. I had to sign up. Everyone else was doing it, and they would totally laugh at me for not going along with the crowd. And so I started training…and realized that I like running! Who would have thunk?! I ran a mile, and even though I was still recovering from a bruised bone, I felt great. So then I ran 1.5 miles…then last week I ran two miles in 23ish minutes.

On Wednesday, I went to a lunch meeting. My coworker, Mike, says “oh! Mel! You’re in your Wednesday dress!” I took that as a sign that I should go shopping. For the past few months, I’d been putting off clothes shopping. I was beginning to look like a bag lady, but I didn’t want to go buy a whole new wardrobe, then have to do it again in a few weeks because the weather was changing. Plus I’m poor as hell, thank you personal training sessions (they worked, but they’re expensive as hell).

So after work, I met Becca and did some major shopping. And I’m pretty sure I single handedly ended the recession. You can thank me later. But that’s not what’s so cool.

After spending an obscene amount of money at The Limited (I’ve NEVER been able to fit into their clothes before!!!), we ducked into Forever 21 for some inexpensive accessories. So there we were, laughing like idiots and trying on various outlandish headbands and hats, and who did I [we] see? Dragon Boy, my high school flame. (I’m calling him Dragon Boy because he was obsessed with dragons way back in the day).

Dragon Boy was my first love, and consequently, the first boy to break my heart. I was miserable for a good two years because of him. It’s been nearly ten years since we last saw each other, and while I don’t hold any feelings for him, or wish him any ill will, I also don’t particularly feel like talking to him ever again.

Dragon Boy looked like shit. As someone who was, and probably still is, judged by strangers for her weight, I try to be a lot more sensitive than that. But oh my GOD. Dragon Boy was hot, way back when. Lots of muscle tone and just an overall happy, healthy look. It’s one of the major things that attracted me to him.

All of that was gone. We’re talking at least 20-25lbs overweight, none of that original muscle tone, sallow skin, dark under eye circles, and a receding hairline. Homeboy is 28 but looked in his late 30s.  Everything about him said “I’m unhealthy, unhappy, and life sucks.”

“Is that…?” I whispered under my breath.

“I…think so? He looks different. And not good different,” she replied.

Dragon Boy and I didn’t say anything to each other. We really had nothing to say. But as he left the store, I couldn’t help thinking “I am totally the hot one now! Oooh! That necklace is cute!”

I wore my super awesome new suit on Thursday. And I’m pretty sure it’s a magic suit. Good things happened. The project that I’m working on just started to click. Happiness appeared out of nowhere. Leprechauns and unicorns frolicked in the conference rooms, and harmony was experienced by all. And today, I got an employee recognition award for my work.

So all in all, a great week. And now I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop…

Increasing the mileage tomorrow. 2.5 miles and yoga.