Stripped down

My most recent excursion to Old Navy didn't just net some free workout wear. Inside the white plastic bag, along with the capris and tank, was something I've been wanting to buy my entire life. Something I've stared at longingly, hoping that one day I would earn the privilege of owning. Something, I am nearly ashamed to admit, that I consider a status of beauty and fitness.

A bikini. A green and white polka dot bandeau bikini.

When I declared 2013 the year to Make Shit Happen, I had told myself - and Mark - that I wanted to get over myself, get over my insecurities, and buy the bikini I had long considered a hard-earned reward for losing weight and then losing the baby weight and then keeping it off. The one I thought I should be able to wear because the scale reads 12X.

But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't do it. I would try on the two-piece swimsuits and get disgusted. The bottoms would be too small and the extra skin of my lower abdomen would flop over ... or under ... or both. Boy suit bottoms would come down right where my saddlebags begin, further accentuating the bulges that can't be calorie counted and exercised away. High-waisted suits came to the upper belly fold, marking the spot of a pocket of excess skin and fat around my belly button.

One day, at Kohl's, I thought I had finally won. The pinky-coral suit was cut better than any I had ever tried. The low-rise bottoms covered every thing I needed without coming up to the bulge. The top was padded, a must for my barely-there A cups. I exited the dressing room to show Mark the best-case scenario but rather than strutting out, I slunk. Even showing my husband, the guy who has seen me naked and cut open, I was embarrassed. All I could see in the suit was a bony upper torso, a belly roll and heavy thighs - not the healthy, fit woman I was hoping to find. I shook my head and quickly made my way to change. Tears welled in my eyes as I hung it up, struggling to accept that I just don't have the bikini body.

We talked about skin removal on the way home, a conversation that has persisted over the years as I live with the effects of significant weight loss. He ... I ... we've almost come to accept it as an inevitable way to close the door on who I used to be. Mark is supportive, saying we would find a way to pay for it, but I struggle on undergoing an expensive, extensive procedure for the sake of vanity. It's not guaranteed to make me happy, it will take me off the trails for at least six weeks and it will inhibit my ability to parent.

That day, I gave up on the idea of 2013 being the year I put on a bikini. Maybe, if I did get the cajones to have the surgery (next year at the earliest), I would try again. I even looked at before-and-after photos of tummy tucks and lower-body lifts to give myself some hope.

But last Tuesday, as C tried on Old Navy activewear capris, I found myself perusing the swimwear rack, attracted to a "sale" sign like a moth to a flame. The polka dots were so cute. Green is one of my favorite colors. Bandeau tops are my favorite. A glutton for punishment, I opted to try it on. "It couldn't hurt," I thought.

The bottoms slid on and stopped two inches below my belly pouch. In a size medium, the sides didn't dig in and create any overhang. The strapless top showed off hard-earned deltoids and shoulders, and a bit of padding helped the girls out. Like the suit at Kohl's, it was as good as it was going to get on me. Still I waffled.

"Oh, that's cute!" C said, spying the suit over my arm as she exited the fitting room. "Are you going to get it?"

I wasn't sure, I told her. I wasn't sure I could pull it off. She assured me that I could - I was young. Young, yes. Flat abs, no. "Who cares?" she said, urging me to purchase it.

And who does care? Besides me. Probably no one. Or not one of the people who will be around to see it. As a family friend recently told me, everyone is too wrapped in their own insecurities to care about yours. So, I bought it.

I took it home and left it in the bag, not even telling Mark that I had picked it up. I didn't want him to know as part of me wasn't committed, wondering whether I should take it back. The other part? Well, she thought I should keep it and wear it. Proudly. Because every stretch mark, every centimeter of excess skin - they are like battle scars. Battle scars from crusades I won and from a war I sill continue to fight.

Four days, though. It was four days before I mustered up the courage to put it back on and model it for Mark, who, to my surprise,  he was incredibly positive. He said he liked the pattern and the fit was better than the coral number at Kohl's. Sure, the belly was there but there's nothing I could do about that.

So I kept it. Sort of. Old Navy had a special Memorial Day sale on its suits - even better than the day I bought it - prompting me to return/swap/exchange it for a new combo. I might not be the best bikini body at the pool this summer but I'll be damned if I'm not one of the strongest.

And, of that, I will be proud.

Three Things Thursday: Photo Dump

First things first. I am happy to report that after four days of feeling crappy that I am finally feeling like myself. And by feeling like myself, I mean I said yes when Mark asked me if I wanted coffee this morning and I exercised with no nausea.

Excuse the profanity but hell yeah! (OK, to be honest, when I typed the "excuse the profanity" I fully intended to use the "f" word but I chickened out.)

Anyway, a few things I had intended to share on the the blog were shoved aside by illness - probably norovirus - but I'd hate to see them disappear into the black hole of ideas.

1. I was a big ole tease last week, promoting the Old Navy Activewear I scored via Crowdtap but never sharing the duds.

Shock of the century, I picked the printed compression capris in black and the printed knotted tank. I can't really wear them together, which is a fail on my part, but I have enough workout stuff to make do. I wore the capris for BODYPUMP on Saturday, and I have no real complaints save for the fact that I wish the internal pocket had a zipper. It's fine for cross-training, no good for running.

As for the tank, I'm in total love. I wore it on Monday for lounging/walking the zoo - which is totally active - and for a trampoline class today. Definition of fashion meets function.

2. Saturday morning, I made the somewhat questionable choice to volunteer for the Fort4Fitness Spring Cycle event. I had seen a link on Facebook that volunteers would receive a free entry to the fall race and, well, I can't say no to free. I selected the 5 to 8 a.m. shift (this is where the questionable comes in) because it would upset my/our schedule the least.

I spent much of the three hours moving barricades and fences, working with a guy in taper for his first half marathon and a master's triathlete who has competed in Kona and won a 70.3 event. The work sort of sucked (I told Mark it was my first time as a race volunteer where I felt like I was doing something) but talking to the guys was totally awesome. I learned that I should not shoot for a 70.3 in my first year of triathlons, if there is to be a first year of triathlons, and you can get a degree in heating and air conditioning.

3. Before the illness began, I did manage to squeeze in some fun. A friend of Mark's, who moved to D.C. last year to be a doctor of all things, came to visit, bringing with him dry-aged steaks - porterhouse, T-bone and sirloin. It. Was. Amazing.

I made a BLT pasta salad, using turkey bacon and yogurt ranch dressing, as well as some corn and the bachelors in the crowd brought prepared mac and cheese and craft beers. I'm not sure if they were trying to send me a message when they handed me a Hoegarden but it was tasty.

The party was also a good chance to try out some Kroger smoothie bars, which I procured using a coupon from BzzAgent. I had been in the habit of making fancy desserts but I realized that a) it takes a crapload of time; b) I spend too much money on ingredients; and c) I end up using it as an excuse to binge.  But I decided to let that go, especially since the steak was the real treat.

Everyone seemed to like them, and it was a great treat to give the kids without feeling insanely guilty. The bars are 50 calories each, and there are actual chunks of fruit in them.

What's your favorite summer treat? I really like these bars - for reals - and might try to make them at home for a little more quality control.

Disclaimer: I received coupons for the Old Navy Activewear and Kroger smoothie bars via Crowdtap and BzzAgent respectively via personal participation on the marketing websites. I was not required to write about the products on the blog but in doing so, I may be eligible for future opportunities or rewards. All opinions and words are my own. Duh.

Runners should love underpants

The necessity has been debated far and wide in the running world, since woman first put one foot in front of the other - or Nike made Tempo shorts with a liner.

To wear underpants or not wear underpants on a run, that is the question.

Source

While many eschew the necessity of the undergarment on a fartlek or tempo outing, with even the esteemed Dimity and Sarah (aka my running idols) saying "no" - always, I find that wearing a pair of panties is not just a comfort thing. Oh, no. It's a necessity.

1. A cotton pair of underpants absorbs moisture and traps any unpleasant odors. Your shorts will already smell rank from sweat so there's no need to add to it.

2. It's been my experience that a pair of underpants (still cotton) will minimize the sound of butt-cheek clapping, which can be distracting if not disturbing to passers-by.

3. A visible panty line, otherwise known as VPL, offers those who find it cute to hoot and holler a distraction from a bare midriff, which becomes a more likely scenario as the weather warms.

4. If you are running as part of a weight-loss plan, it will become inevitable that your shorts will sag. It's always a nice incentive to buy new workout wear to celebrate but sometimes it doesn't happen ... and you nearly lose your shorts. Without undies, you're taking the risk to go bare-ass on the trail - not a smart idea when this is a bad season for ticks and mosquitoes.

5. Undies, especially an old pair, can be used as a makeshift wiping device should it be necessary to drop trou in the woods. If you went rogue and panty-less, I guess there would be alternatives - going crunchy butt for the remainder of the run or, say, using/ditching a shirt you got on clearance at Marshall's for $3 and sporting that midriff (and thus causing a No. 3 situation). However, outside of remembering TP on every run, I think it's the best option.

And that is all I have to say about that.

Weekly Training Update: 5/20-5/26

The week, in training:

Monday: 4.27 miles
Tuesday: 5.03 miles, intervals +  BODYPUMP (taught)
Wednesday: Rest
Thursday: 4.26 miles + 2.5 miles
Friday: Rest
Saturday: BODYPUMP (taught)
Sunday: Unplanned rest (sick)

◊ ◊ ◊

I will be the first person to tell someone to listen to her body. To do the smart thing. To rest. And yet, I am the worst person when it comes to taking my own advice. I push and push and get frustrated when I don't see the results I was hoping for, which more than likely didn't happen because I pushed too hard.

Last week, I mapped out a week of workouts, incorporating the start of two-a-days to prepare for Hood to Coast. It sort of messes thing up, giving me five runs on four days when I've been accustomed to five runs on five days. I was struggling with what to do on Friday, and I gave myself the option to run very easy or bike to the office on Friday. Just a little sumthin' sumthin' to get my body moving and to acquire the "mandatory" sixth day of exercise. What I didn't map out was a show off move in BODYPUMP, lifting too much during squats and spending most of the week sore or a handful of runs that felt incredibly hard. When Friday came around, I was finally able to walk without wincing and knew I had a run in me ... but I also knew I would have a better weekend run in me if I rested.

So I did the smart thing and gave myself an extra day. It was awesomely refreshing and nerve-wracking, as I don't think I trust myself to take off days like that without gaining weight. But my legs thanked me. I began dreaming up 10 miles of awesome for the long run that awaited me on Sunday.

And then I picked up a stomach bug. I had originally thought I had eaten myself sick at a party on Saturday but three days later, it still sounds like an alien lives in my belly. So I'm on day three of rest and too many to count without running.

It sucks. And I'm getting cranky.