Wednesday Weigh-In

Just before the Indy Mini, I got brave. And by brave, I mean that I stepped on the scale. 

No matter how much I exercise or how many days I track my food (I currently have a 374-day streak on MyFitnessPal) or how many times I've actually stood on the scale, it's always a nerve-wracking moment. It was no different that day albeit probably worse as I knew that the indulgences were many in April as I celebrated my PR at the Carmel half marathon and my birthday, as well as ate my way through Chicago with my girlfriends.

Just as I suspected, I didn't like the number I saw – especially because it displayed my weight in stones, not pounds, no matter how many times I fiddled with the settings. (And it still does. It might be a sign to get a new scale and have a legitimate reason to go after this one with a sledgehammer.)

But before I could beat myself up too much, the universe gifted me with a near 10-day stomach virus that left me 6 pounds lighter.

Please note: I'm not advocating illness as a means to weight loss. It just is what it is what it is.

While some of the loss was water, I have been able to stay under my pre-baby weight, which is still not to say I'm happy. Ideally, I'd like to lose another seven to 10 pounds to feel like I look lean – especially in pictures – but also so I enter training for the Indianapolis Monumental Marathon at a fighting weight. 

Goals should be SMART – specific, measurable, achievable, relevant and time-bound – and I'm approaching my post-partum, post-nursing weight loss in the same way. While I would never advocate that someone lose weight for something, I'm using our family vacation in July as a benchmark to keep me accountable.

Also: I really want a reason to spend more money than necessary on an Athleta bathing suit. I'm using the purchase as a reward for reaching my Weight Watchers goal weight, which would mean I need to lose 4 pounds. Four pounds is specific, measurable and achievable and the weight-loss is relevant as marathoners can often gain weight during training. Time-bound – well I have six-week goal.  

It's not good enough to have a goal, though. Not even a SMART one. You have to have a plan and a plan I have.

The stomach bug didn't just jump start my weight loss, though. It helped me reset my palate, which had been far too sugar hungry before May 7. Using that as a springboard, I'm focusing on vegetables (boring) and increasing my protein intake. I'm not going to be slamming protein pancakes and protein shakes and a dozen hard-boiled eggs but I am going to add in a shake and skip the night-time ice cream in lieu of cheese and meats with a couple crackers or homemade popcorn.

I'm also, at least this week, sharing my meals on Instagram (follow me HERE) to keep me accountable. Partly, it's because I'm copying a friend who is doing Whole30 but it's also because I have a short attention span when it comes to focusing on food.

Anyone have tips to stay motivated? I almost think it's harder to keep at it when the weight loss goal is smaller and the weight is more stubborn.

Thrown, for a loop

On Jan. 8, Mark celebrated his 36th birthday. It's always a challenge to select a good gift, as his birthday is two weeks to the day after Christmas. This year, though, I gave him something that would mean a lot – to the both of us.

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It had been a long day.

Mark and I had woke up early – before 6 – and made the three-hour drive from Fort Wayne to Sandusky. Now close to 5, after a day in the sun and on the water, we were sapped.

We were spending the day at Cedar Point. America's Roller Coast, it calls itself. For me, it was a place that I had stared at from across the bay, in the backyard of my two bedroom rental in the northern Ohio city. For a year and a half, I lived and worked there – a copy editor at the Sandusky Register – studying the steel beasts on the other side of the water but never venturing down the causeway. I couldn't. I was drowning – in debt, in depression, in a lackluster relationship.

I had moved on, though. It was three years later, and I was on my feet. I had a better job, a better boyfriend and a better sense of self. So much so that I felt ready to return with Mark – to show him where I had been and how far I had come.

We arrived at the gates just after opening that summer day. We walked quickly to the best and biggest coasters, hoping to score rides before the throngs of teens flooded the park and lines grew.
I said no to the Top Thrill Dragster (rode it once on a media day and that was enough) and yes to Millennium Force. We hit the Raptor and had lunch. We basked in the near summer weather as we strolled from ride to ride. It was warm, the sun bright but with the breeze off the lake, I sometimes wished for a sweater.

After a ride on Wicked Twister and night closing in, the looming drive home prompted us to decide that it was time to go. But as we walked toward the entrance, we approached the Mantis – a coaster we had bypassed earlier in favor of more popular, thrilling rides. 

We looked at each other. "One last ride?"

With no line, we decided that yes, we had time for one more and headed toward the queue. 
The silver metal fencing was warm underneath my hands as I swung happily toward the cars, my legs kicking in the air before my flip-flopped feet landed on the cement. I smiled at the messy-haired boy who was tasked with keeping out those who didn't meet the height requirement for the ride. His lips upturned slightly out of politeness and he waved me over.

"Do you want to try out the seat before getting in line?" 

His question mortified me. I had lost weight, down about 50 or 60 pounds. I wasn't the fat girl anymore. And I was not with the boyfriend who knew me as the fat girl – I was with Mark. Mark – the guy with flat abs who could lose 5 pounds just looking at a treadmill.

But there I was. And there he was, the messy-haired employee, questioning whether I was too big to ride the coaster. He didn't know if the belt would buckle, the bar would click, the harness stay in place. 

I shook my head no as I fought back tears. "Let's skip this one," I told Mark. "I think I'm ready to go home."

I've never been able to shake the memory from that day nine years ago. The sadness, the embarrassment are burned into my psyche. Even though Mark has invited me to go to Cedar Point multiple times since, I always find a reason to say no. There's cost, logistics, child care – all valid. But part of me still worries that I won't fit on the rides even though I know the guidelines state that women should weigh less than 200 pounds or wear a size 18 or smaller. I feel the roll of my post-partum belly and spot the stretch marks on my thighs, and I can remember the girl I used to be. The one who looked too big to ride the roller coaster.

Of course, that girl is one Mark never knew, one he never saw. He didn't even see her on that day at Cedar Point but rather a brighter version of me. Maybe a truer one.

So, for his birthday, I decided that I would get over myself. I would accept one of his invitations. And I bought us a pair of passes to the amusement park.

We won't be going to Cedar Point. There are real things to consider in terms of logistics, cost and child care, and Kings Island in Cincinnati is the best option. We have free lodging at my grandmother's house and can easily include the day at the park with a family visit. We have plenty of child care options for the boys – from my brother keeping them all day to paying a cousin to walk the park with them while we ride the rides. 

But one thing is for sure. I will get in line for a coaster, and the only fears that weigh down the pit in my stomach will be those associated with G-force, speed and inversions.

NSV: Finding Success Where I Can

The scale and I have a mutual agreement: I hate it, and it hates me. It's not the ideal relationship but it's not messy or dirty. Simple. Clear cut.

The relationship has become more defined as I try to navigate this whole post-baby body bull shit. I workout, I track my food, I try to eat things I should and avoid the crap. I try to trust in the process. Yet, when I step on the scale it gives me a big middle finger and displays the same number time after time after time. Or, when it's feeling especially sassy, the number goes up.

I hate it. It hates me.

On the rare occasion, after a few weeks of unacceptable numbers from the scale and me on the verge of going all "Office Space" on it, the number jumps down 2 pounds.

"Ha, ha, lady. Just playing. You can put the Tiger Tail away now."

The challenge of losing the weight would be enough to drive even the sanest of people crazy but add in sleep deprivation and hormones and ... well ... it's been tough.

Thankfully, I've found solace in the NSV – non-scale victory to those who haven't spent hours in a Weight Watchers meeting room.

Like finally fitting into one of my favorite pre-baby dresses. I'm not talking like "OK, I can sort of slide this down over my taco pooch" but "Hey, you can't see the rolls." I was very happy and, appropriately, took a bathroom selfie to celebrate. Note: Aren't you glad there's a biohazard box on the wall? Just in case we need to do a rogue appy after lunch.*

And then there's the fact that I can wear a couple pairs of running shorts that were too strained against my hips and too snug on the legs that my thighs ate them and I looked like I was running in a bikini ala the Bugaboo ad. To those in Fort Wayne who witnessed that sight, I am sorry.

There have been some ever satisfying comments from friends who compliment me and tell me they can notice a change – even if the scale is still on my bad side.

Maybe, though, the most rewarding has been checking myself out in the mirror when I teach class. I can see my muscles – the definition in my shoulders, the biceps pop when I curl. I might not ever be skinny-skinny the way I was at my lowest weight two kids ago but damn if I won't be strong.

So the scale can suck it. I might be losing weight at a snail's pace but I'm taking back my old self piece-by-piece.

*Obviously, I have been watching far too much "Grey's Anatomy" while I nurse.

Curing obesity? Thoughts on long-term weight loss

remission (reh-MIH-shun). A decrease in or disappearance of signs and symptoms of a disease. In partial remission, some, but not all, signs and symptoms have disappeared. In complete remission, all signs and symptoms of disease have disappeared, although it still may be in the body.

◊ ◊ ◊

I've been thinking about this idea of remission lately - what it means to be rid of a disease, what it means to be cured. I've been thinking about when the condition not only ceases to exist but stops defining you.

It was by great luck and hospitality that I happened to find myself out with four lovely ladies on Saturday night in Napa. We were seated at the bar of Oxbow Cheese & Wine Merchant in Oxbow Public Market, enjoying the most amazing burrata as we laughed, sipped wine and chatted. The topic of the race - which all of us had run - and how we decided to run it came up, leading into a conversation about my blog.

"What do you write about?" Anne asked.

Fitness, running, life, weight loss, I told her. Well, how I keep the weight off, I clarified.

And so began the story - the telling of my story. It's one I'm used to sharing, so much so that I've almost become detached from it.

It's also one I feel almost silly telling for a number of reasons. A) It took me a long time to lose weight. Like 5 years, and it wasn't a straight 5 years. B) I don't have magic tricks to lose weight. And, C) it's been a long time since I've been that girl. I don't remember much about what it was like, physically, to carry that weight. I don't remember how I spent my time when I wasn't logging six hours of workouts a week.

The girl in my before pictures is not me and she hasn't been in 5 years. Five years - the same amount of time it takes for a person to stop being in remission and be cured of a disease.

While this definition/classification in most circumstances applies to cancer, obesity is a disease,* according to the American Heart Association, American College of Cardiology and The Obesity Society. As such, it should be treated, the agencies say, with doctors becoming proactive about weight loss, prescribing medically supervised weight loss programs and possibly suggesting surgery.

With the definition of obesity as a disease, comes the possibility of it being cured. The cure - permanent, maintainable weight loss. But when does that happen? The American Heart Association article suggests people participate in a weight loss maintenance program for a year. A year, though - the weight can easily come back. Would a "cure" designation be more appropriate at 5 years ... 10 years ... never?

I wonder, should such a thing exist, does there come a point, too, where you stop being the fat girl or stop being the weight loss success. Do you stop telling the story?

*Editor's note: I am, in no way, implying that being obese is like having cancer. The correlation was only drawn because of the timeline. Please do not take offense.

You're Doing It Wrong: Dieting {A Three Things Thursday post}

I've been doing something novel lately. I've been eating eggs.

Like the whole egg - yolk and all.

Not too long ago, it was rare for me to eat a whole egg much less two as I do now. I thought it was better, because it was lower calorie, to just eat the egg whites. I would scramble them with some veggies and top it with low-fat cheese, making a main dish breakfast that came in under 100 calories. By doing that, I was able to save "room" (calorie-wise) for things like bread, hash browns or turkey bacon.

But since I've transitioned, for at least the time being, to a lower carb and higher fat diet, I'm skipping the bread and letting myself have the higher calorie whole egg times two, along with some full-fat cheese and veggies. The product is similar but tastes much better and offers a more impressive nutritional profile. {Read here, here and here.}

Eating just egg whites, a habit I developed while a Weight Watchers participant, wasn't terribly bad but I'm not sure it was terribly good. It was a means (diet) to an end (weight loss) but there are better ways to achieve the goal, at least from the way I see it.

Here's when to know you need to reconsider your means:

1. Cover it up. I sort of cringe every time I think of post I wrote a couple years back. I was sharing hot chocolate "recipes" for the winter season, and each variation consisted of a packet of diet hot chocolate and an extract - peppermint, vanilla, almond. While peppermint extract does add a festive flair to hot chocolate, the taste wasn't the only reason I was adding it. The truth was - and still is - that diet hot chocolate does not taste good. In fact, it tastes bad and the only way to drink it with some satisfaction is to doctor it. I did it, though, because it was 25 calories per packet compared to 80 or 110 calories for more traditional versions.

If the diet food you are eating requires help to taste good, do not eat it. Find a better, more palatable option or find another way to cut calories such as a smaller portion.

2. Health binge. One of my Weight Watcher leader's favorite lines was, "No one got fat by eating watermelon." Her motivation was to encourage people to eat fruit and to eat it to satisfaction. She didn't want people to be scared or restrictive. It's probably true but it doesn't mean that you can eat an entire watermelon and still lose weight. Almost any food, no matter how healthy, has an effect on you - whether it's a caloric load or affects your blood glucose level.

3. Add-on. I was in a seminar the other day and someone asked about a pasta found at the store. "White Fiber," it is labeled and the participant wanted to know how it compared to other pastas on the market. The moderator seemed a bit stumped and asked for an email address. Obviously, she had never done Weight Watchers before. When I was on the plan, I would look for the highest fiber foods because the greater the value, the lower in points they were. The theory, I believe, is that higher fiber foods have a lower glycemic index and thus reducing the affect on blood sugar. They are, then, "healthier." However, these "healthier" foods included Fiber One and Gnu bars (which gave me the worst gas possible), VitaTop muffins and SmartTaste pasta. I got more bang for my points buck and felt like I was cheating the system.

The only thing I was cheating was me.

In my lowly opinion, if you need to seek out foods with added vitamins, minerals and other nutritional benefits, then you are most likely cutting corners other places. Example: When I gave up bread, someone asked me about fiber and where I would get it. My answer? Vegetables - and I'd probably get more fiber from them than I would from bread. A sandwich thin, which I also used a lot during WW, has 5 grams of fiber and a few vitamins and minerals. A sweet potato, on the other hand, has 4 grams of fiber, as well as vitamins A and C, calcium and iron. Add a side of broccoli to the potato, and you'll get an additional 3 grams of fiber plus Protein, Thiamin, Pantothenic Acid, Calcium, Iron, Magnesium and Phosphorus, Vitamin A, Vitamin C, Vitamin E (Alpha Tocopherol), Vitamin K, Riboflavin, Vitamin B6, Folate, Potassium and Manganese. I don't need a sandwich thin for fiber if I'm eating enough vegetables.

Now, for my fourth bonus rule: You are doing it wrong if you believe the only way to diet/eat healthy is the way you are doing it. I follow certain guidelines, for the time being, because it works for me and it makes me feel good. It's important to find a way that benefits you.

Tell me: What are the signs of a bad diet?

Getting started on a budget {A Three Things Thursday post}

With $40 in my hand as I pushed the cart, I was testing the definition of a tight grocery budget. I looked for the cheapest cuts of meat and then tried to find packages that were marked down further. I skipped the name brands, then the store brands and stocked up on the value products.

I was 14, and my parents were recently separated. My dad was lost, unsure of what to do with two kids - much less how to do it with the debt of two adults and one income. He wasn't a cook or a shopper, and his attempts at stocking up for a week's meals left him frustrated and upset.

So I volunteered.

In the six months that followed, I did my best to find the most amount of food for the least amount of price. I wasn't worried about health, quality and sourcing. I was worried about making sure everyone, most importantly my dad, had enough to eat.

Those days, and constraints, may be far behind but the memories are vivid. (I can still taste the canned ravioli that Dad watered down so it could go further.) It's not the case for some and it can be why I scoff when people will say that eating healthy isn't expensive. Sure, the grocery bill doesn't have to be outrageous when you put your focus on eating better but when just eating is expensive, the added pressure of "healthy" can be intimidating.

But it can be done.

Here are three meal ideas - breakfast, lunch and dinner - that come in under budget.

1. Breakfast: Eggs. Simple as that. I was recently listening to a Vinnie Tortorich podcast, and a guest said that eggs are one of the most complete proteins. They are also filling and affordable. A dozen of non-organic eggs at my Kroger comes in just under $2, and I buy the 18-pack carton for $2.99. You can hard boil the carton and eat two with salt and pepper. Make a frittata, using frozen veggies, and cut into individual portions. Or, if you have time, poach a couple and serve with toast.

Source

2. Lunch: I can easily spend upwards of $10 on lunch supplies for a week's worth of quote-unquote healthy lunches. It's not so bad when you consider that's what I spend when I got out but it's double what cheaper frozen meals cost. My solution: Dried beans, lentils and brown rice. For about $1.50 and a little prep time, someone has the building blocks of a nutrient dense, affordable lunch. Rice bowls are also insanely easy and versatile - add frozen or fresh veggies, choosing based on a "theme" (Mexican, Japanese, Indian) and it's done. Don't like bowls? Add some broth and turn it into soup. The beans and lentils serve as affordable protein options although one could easily use tofu or meat found on sale.

Bonus: You can prep lunch on Sunday and just grab and go throughout the week.

3. Dinner: The rule here is to keep it simple. It's fun to try new recipes and keeping the flavors fresh can help with adherence. However, a lengthy ingredient list can significantly increase the grocery bill. Some of my affordable favorites are Salsa Chicken - as a salad or wrap; homemade chili over a sweet potato (save on meat and add more beans); taco soup; and one-pot pasta.

This post was inspired by a beautiful friend who is starting her own journey. So give her some encouragement and share your budget meals!

The skinny on motherhood

The 2.3 miles that separate my house from daycare are not marked by traffic lights and stops signs. Rather, the seven-minute drive is punctuated by question marks that leave me wondering why I didn't pursue advanced degrees in meteorology, animation, anthropology, theology and criminal justice before choosing to have a child.

"Who does Spider-Man fight?"

"Who else does Spider-Man fight?"

"Is it going to thunderstorm? See - the clouds are coming together. Why do the clouds come together?"

"Where do the robbers live? But why do they live there? Do they not buckle their seat belts?"

But on Monday morning, as we made the famliar drive, I found myself not pulling my hair out and silently screaming, "I don't give a shit where Superman lives," but answering a question that I'd never thought I'd have to answer. Not while talking to my son, not before he has even turned 3.

"Mommy, why do you want to be skinny?"

Long before I became a mother, long before I met Mark, I knew that of the things I would pass on to my family, I didn't want it to be my own weight history or body image issues. It was not just a matter of the child(ren) not being overweight but also one of recognizing it. Just as one might try to "erase" race, I didn't want them to see fat or skinny, to recognize it, to talk about it.

Yet, here I was. Being forced to talk about it. And I didn't know how.

So I did what I do best. I just started BSing my way through it, hoping to turn the conversation around and distract him.

"Mommy just wants to be healthy and strong."

Why? He asked.

"It makes mommy feel better about herself."

Why? Again.

"When I feel healthy and strong, I feel happier."

Why? Again.

"When I'm healthy and strong, I can play ball with you in the backyard and take you for runs and go to the park and play."

Why?

"Hey! Who do you want to play with at daycare?"

Daycare. I thought, as I drove. Of course.

Recently, one of the helpers at daycare has commented (more than once) that I have been looking skinnier. I think it's probably because I have lost a bit of the wheat bloat and now that it's finally summer, wearing less bulky clothing. I don't like talking about my weight, no matter how well meaning the comments are, and I usually slough it off. I say I'm just doing what I'm doing.

Miles isn't always around for these conversations and, if he is, I'm not sure he cares what we are saying. There are times, though, when he'll ask what we're talking about and pull out words from the conversation.

Words like skinny.

While I thought the issue was one I would need to be more cognizant of if I had a daughter, the inquisition was a reminder that what we say has power. The things we talk about don't recognize age or gender. A parent's opinions, attitudes and comments shape what they think is important.

And, at 33, I can say that skinny isn't one of those things.

Winning {A Three Things Thursday post}

1. Another week has gone by, and I am happy to report {to myself}that I am still rocking the no-grain, no-sugar experiment. It wasn't easy this weekend with Memorial Day outings that included a trip to the zoo, where ice cream is often a treat; a hog roast where green chile mac and cheese was served; another grill out with cookies and ice cream; and front-row seats at the minor league baseball game ... on $1 hot dog day.

Of course, it's not to say I didn't have anything. I just chose where I was willing to break the rules. Mark and I split a cone at the zoo but I said no to the beer and mac and cheese at the party that night. I had a bit more ice cream at the second barbecue but got peanuts at the game. What's more important to me, though, is that those indulgences didn't set me into a tail spin. I was back to work - and back on plan - on Tuesday.

2. Before the game on Monday, Mark, Miles and I did a little shopping at the outdoor mall. All of Mark's summer shorts seemed to have disappeared into the Bermuda triangle in our basement, and he was in desperate need as his school does not have air conditioning. As luck would have it, Old Navy had shorts on sale for $8. I grabbed a couple pairs for him and then went over to investigate the women's.

I found myself skipping over the too short shorts and heading toward the bikinis. Usually, trying on such things will send me into tears {related} but I was feeling brave ... or masochistic, grabbing a few to try on. I am pretty sure Mark was nervous for me {and himself} that it would be like so many dressing room trips before but I came out unscathed and with a bathing suit I liked. I am not sure whether I'm more self accepting and confident or was suffering from  heat stroke but I'm happy with my progress mentally.

3. Ever since I accepted Mark's invitation to pace me for Fort4Fitness, I've been churning about how I wanted to approach training for the race. I know what I need - speed work and tempo runs, long runs and recovery ones - but I didn't know where I should find it. I could get a coach, which is expensive and a bit self indulgent (in my opinion) based on my abilities. I could buy a plan from Smart Coach or Runner's Academy. Or I could go with some of the easily accessed schedules, either from Train Like a Mother or online.

I had been seriously considering the Another Mother Runner 13.Fun challenge but the timing wasn't right and the price was a bit steep {for me, at this time}. I was poking around on the local running store's website to see about coaching prices when I saw information about the training group for the fall half marathon.

I had always thought it was for beginners but, as it turns out, they advertise that it's for all levels and the program offers individualized plans. There are also group runs, info on nutrition, chance to make more BRFs and availability to ask questions of the coach. Plus a shirt. For $65.

Gotta ask the boss man but I'm pretty sure this is my answer!

Ask this, not that: Weight loss edition {A Three Things Thursday post}

It all started with a conversation about my boobs. And, if you have seen a picture of me recently, you might be inclined to ask: What boobs?

It's a fair and very valid question as I barely fill out an A cup thanks to weight loss and nursing Miles. It is what it is what is ... until I change it, which is what I was telling some friends this weekend. One day, as I've written here before, when babies aren't in my future, I will seriously consider skin removal surgery. While under the knife, it only makes sense for the doctor to give me something as he takes away. Namely, boobs.

As we chatted about the procedure, I discussed other areas that could be addressed during skin removal - arms and legs.

"Can you have the extra skin on your legs removed?" a friend asked.

"Well, yes," I replied, as I thought she asked if it was possible. And it is. Others took it as her asking me in a way that implied I should do it.

Oh, how things can be taken the wrong way.

The question didn't - and still doesn't - bother me. I have been asked far more invasive, far ruder questions/comments when it comes to weight loss.

"What was your starting weight?"
I have been open about my starting weight for the purposes of this blog and print stories but I shudder when people ask me in real life ask. Why? They wouldn't have asked me how much I weighed then so it's not an appropriate question now. Also, by knowing how much I've lost, they know how much I weigh now and, for the most part, I am no longer concerned with that number. In any other situation, it would be considered pretty rude to ask someone her weight. Losing weight doesn't make it OK.

"You lost, like, a whole person."
Yes. There are people who weigh 120 pounds but the last time I checked I didn't lose me, and I am still a whole person. I was a whole person then, too. For me, I dislike the comment because I still find some frustration that I allowed myself to get to 245 pounds and though losing weight was good, I shouldn't have gotten to a point that I needed to lose 120 pounds (or 115, depending on the day). I don't like to be reminded that I was carrying the weight of an extra person.

"Wow! You must feel so much better. Right?"
Sure, some days I feel good. Other days, I feel like ass crack. It was the same when I was overweight. I hate the implication that you must feel bad all the time when you are overweight. Even worse, I reject the idea that being at a certain weight equates feeling good as weight loss doesn't solve all of the problems.

P.S.
I don't always like to answer questions about weight loss because it's not who I am anymore. I am not the 245-pound girl I wrote about. I would much rather talk about running ... or Miles ... or Mark ... or running.

For you ...
What do you think are rude questions to ask about weight?

Hiding: Photographic evidence

I was sure I had left it there - in an Office Depot paper box, tucked in the attic of our first apartment - three moves ago. Tucked inside the box, underneath my old clips from college and other papers I had saved but didn't need access to.

I had never cleared out that space when we excitedly moved from the 600-square-foot space into a two-bedroom, 1,100-square-foot apartment that felt like home. And I regretted it for much of five years.

Then came the text, out of the blue, from my sister-in-law. She had been cleaning out my brother's foot locker and had found my pictures from Jerusalem. The photos that were taken on a once-in-a-lifetime trip in 2001 - before Facebook, before MySpace, before my first digital camera. The 4-by-6 prints were the only record of my trip.

My brother delivered them to me this weekend, and it was with much excitement that I flipped through the pages.

Jerusalem

Church of the Holy Sepulcher.

Capernaum.

The Dead Sea. I can still feel myself floating on the salty water and the rough, rocky bed underneath my feet.

The memories of the beautiful, exotic place flooded my brain but the one thing I couldn't see was me. I wasn't there - not in my photos of Tel Aviv or the Golan Heights. There wasn't a snapshot at the top of Masada or one of my toes into the Mediterranean Sea. I would like to say it's because I hadn't been trained by social media that a selfie at every stop was necessary but I'd be lying. I didn't take photos because I didn't want to see what I looked like.

I was acutely aware that I was not skinny, not even average, when I boarded the plane to New York and then Tel Aviv. The seat belt was tight and I could feel all 230 pounds of me spilling underneath the arm rest. It was uncomfortable but expected.

What wasn't expected was the negative comments about my weight from another student on the tour, which was for college newspaper editors and sponsored by Project Interchange. We were in one of the hotel rooms in Jerusalem, on the first leg of the trip, and watching TV. I made a comment about Beyonce, he made a comment about me. One was complimentary, the other was not. And so for the rest of the trip, I was hyper self conscious. More uncomfortable and self aware than ever. It was bad enough that I brought in the rear on the ascent up Masada - I didn't need a picture of it.

I allowed two pictures on the trip - both group. One was at the top of Jerusalem and the other with a group of Israeli soldiers in Netanya. In doing so, I chose to be absent. From my own memories.

It wasn't the first time I let my own insecurities get in the way but I am hoping it will be the last. My challenge to you is to make the same pledge. To never let the present affect your ability to look back and move forward.

On jealous, normalcy and choices

It was one of those dinners that, even years later, I remember clearly. I was at Applebee's with my good friend, and we were enjoying a girl date. We laughed and chatted freely, without our partners to stunt the conversation. And we ate.

But it wasn't this all-you-can-eat celebration. Not at all. We were both finding success with Weight Watchers and had selected Applebee's because of its lighter fare options and listing of Points. My meal was good, as was hers - which I knew because we split them down the middle to share.

I was happy with it ... until a server walked past with a tray full of burgers and onion rings.

"Don't you wish you could eat normal like that?" I asked, salivating at the sight of the greasy goodness.

"No," she replied pointedly.

Her answer surprised me. As with any weight loss journey, it comes with ups and downs with food and we had both had our fair share. I was certain that she would be able to relate to my jealousy.

She had already made a connection, though - one that I hadn't yet accepted. Eating a 1,200+ calorie dinner is not normal. Stuffing your belly to sickness is not normal. The people eating those meals were not normal. (Sorry for the judgy McJudgerson there. It was an accurate observation.) She was not jealous of the food because she knew eating like that was not conducive to how she wanted to live.

As years have passed, I've had fleeting moments of that jealousy. I drool at the sight of nachos at the hockey game when I'm sharing a bowl of frozen yogurt three ways. I want to hate Mark when he gets the mac and cheese at Panera, and I have my black bean soup. The feeling is usually quelled when I remember an important thing: I choose to eat this way. I could choose to eat those things. I eat the way I do because I expect certain things out of myself and my body. And, bottom line, I like the way my food tastes.

Come on, the black bean soup at Panera is the best.

I was surprised, though, this week when this feeling surfaced at the gym.  I was on the treadmill (of course) completing the hill workout on tap from Train Like a Mother. Hills are tough - there's no way around it - and I was bumping up the speed as I was running late. Sweat was dripping into my eye, and I was flinging it across the room during ill attempts to wipe my brow. I was powering through but, waking up early and with a niggle in my throat, I was tired.

A woman stepped onto the treadmill and punched her workout. The belt sped up and she broke out into a run. Being the competitive person I am, I looked at her settings to see whether I was going to be coerced into going faster.

But I wasn't.

She was running without an incline and at a pace that would be far more manageable than what I was doing. As I looked at those numbers on the display, I nearly longed to run at that pace. To just trot along. It would feel so much better than the way my run was feeling in that moment.

In that moment. I would feel more relaxed running at that pace, it was true, but I wouldn't feel better. I would feel unhappy if I gave up on a workout. Pride has swelled when I leave the gym and mark off a workout on the plan. I wouldn't be happy not pushing myself - even if it seems easier not to.

I wouldn't happy being "normal" and that's my choice.

Three Things Thursday: Tales of a weight loss success

I was a puddle of sweat walking down the stairs at the YMCA, enroute to the locker room. It was slow going, tired after 5 miles, and so I fell behind another gal headed to the same place.

I had seen her before and, by before, I mean before I lost weight. I saw her before the gym was a habit and when I would try to make it to a strength class twice a week but usually made it twice a month.

"You used to come here a long time ago?" she asked.

I nodded.

"I thought you looked familiar."

I nodded and exchanged pleasantries as I wiped my face and unlocked my locker.

"You lost a ton, a ton of weight."

Yep. That's me. By the way, 120 pounds is only six-hundreths of a ton.

"How did you do it?" asked another gal, who was getting dressed in business attire and ready to head to work.

There - that was the part of the conversation that made me cringe. I get asked the question a lot, and I know it's because people want some insight. They want a clue as to how to do it, too. But, I always feel like such a disappointment because there's no gimmick or secret to share. I started exercising, I ate better more often than not and just got stubborn. I told her that albeit with a complete lack of enthusiasm but added that I did go to Weight Watchers for part of the journey. As a consolation.

The conversation made me think about the one thing people should ask: What helped. Everyone can do Weight Watchers or Paleo or South Beach but each person will find different things that helped. And this is what helped me.

1. A community. Whether it's Weight Watchers, a Diet Bet challenge or friends, a good support system substantially improves your chances of getting on track - and staying there. I found great help with my weekly meetings and, as I "graduated," in the blogging community. In addition, surrounding yourself with like-minded people helps reduce temptations, improves chances of engaging in a healthy activity and adds a bit of good-spirited peer pressure.

2. Knowledge is power. During my first attempts to lose weight, I thought you ate less, moved more - and it's true. However, I often focused solely on calories and not the nutrition of the food. I could eat a side salad and fries for lunch because it was 400 calories. And I did. OK, sometimes, I still do. However, I do so with a little more understanding and a lot less frequency.

As I immersed myself in Weight Watchers and blogging, I began to educate myself about what I needed to do and why. It made certain choices more obvious - like "splurging" on a grilled chicken salad with light dressing and skipping the fries - and it gave me permission to make different decisions.

Also, the process of learning about healthy eating, running and exercise, can make the information much more interesting and the journey less of a chore.

3. Get organized. I am a Type A person, through and through. I like planners, calendars, spreadsheets and, when it came to my weight loss, all of those things helped me immensely. I scheduled my workouts and posted a calendar on the fridge. I planned out a weekly menu and then, the night before, planned out a day's meals. I looked ahead to see when a night out or big event might require some padding, points wise, and planned for it. I carried my WW Points book and food log with me everywhere, and I set workout reminders on my phone.

After all, it's great to have information but you need to set in action and getting organized creates a system to make you accountable to the most important person in the process - YOU.

Five for Friday: On dieting

My work husband and I had returned to the cafeteria at work, anxious to fill our second (or third) bowl with mashed potatoes from the company's holiday lunch buffet.

"These are definitely not on the diet," I said to him as I grabbed the bowl, my admission flavored with guilt.

"Yeah. We need to talk about your definition of diet when we get upstairs," he said. To make sure I knew that he was calling me out, he added, "because for weeks you've been touting this new eating plan."

Eating plan does sound so much better than diet, though. Doesn't it? But I could lie no more. The guide I had been following, Dr. Ian Smith's "Shred: The Revolutionary Diet," is most definitely not an eating plan much less the lifestyle we've been coached to create. It is a diet, as the title most definitely announces.

I'm not saying it's a bad thing, necessarily, but I think with many things, we too often hope to find the next big thing and fool ourselves into thinking that we've unlocked the secret to forever happiness, fitness, skinniness. If we can't recognize that what we're doing is a stop gap, we're setting ourselves up for failure.

Breaking free: A non-Shred lunch of mixed green salad and chicken and rice soup with a side of bread.

Here are five signs that your plan is not a lifestyle:

1. The list of what you can not eat is longer than what you can eat. Shred is the first program where I have been told to eat and when. Meals - all four of them - and the snacks in between are well dictated with little wiggle room. There are good foods, such as vegetables, smoothies and soups, but there are no free foods. Bad foods, though, do exist - white potatoes, white carbs, COFFEE. Let me say that again: Coffee is bad in this plan.

When the foods are limited, it's suffocating. A person will feel limited, obsess over the naughty list and more likely to binge. Hence the mashed potatoes. It also fails to teach a person what to do when a standard meal, like the smoothie for breakfast in Shred, is unavailable.

2. Family/social functions create crippling anxiety and worry. This time of year can be difficult to navigate with parties and family obligations, and it can create its fair share of anxiety among even the healthiest. However, parties should not leave someone incapacitated because she cannot eat what's dictated by a plan selected somewhat arbitrarily.

Case in point: Mark and I went to Louisville three years ago for a fun weekend to be filled with bourbon and rolling hills. I was at my lowest weight, having found success with Weight Watchers, and was feeling confident. However, at that time, I had so narrowly defined how I was allowed to eat that I spent nearly a half-hour staring at the menu of a small town cafe trying to find something safe. My stomach growled and I was near tears but could not let go enough to order something that was off my plan. Not only was I frustrated but so were the waitress and, more importantly, Mark. My eating was creating undue stress and havoc on our vacation.

Note: I firmly believe that Weight Watchers is and can be a lifestyle but I had taken it too far at that point in time.

On the Shred Facebook page, I've seen people post photos of suitcases with Shred-branded popcorn, protein bars and smoothies so they can stay on plan during vacation. While a trip should not be an excuse to binge or eat poorly, it also seems a bit much to pack things that seem "safe."

3. The way of eating becomes a fixation, rather than a facet, of life. It's one thing to casually look at a plan but if you feel compelled to take your book with you to work, to dinner, to bed, it might be more than a resource. It could be a crutch. When making changes, we should make them a part of life so that it becomes intuitive and not the be all, end all.

4. It becomes more about the numbers than it does about how you feel. The scale, calories taken in, inches lost - they are all important to weight loss. However, if they are the only things you are measuring, it could be an equation for disappointment. When I was losing weight on Weight Watchers, I did weigh myself weekly. I did count points. However, I also tracked activity and challenged myself with running. I began to focus on how my body felt when I did things and ate certain foods rather than eating a treat with 10 points.

5. It doesn't get easier. The first week of Shred was deceptively easy. I fell into a rhythm with the meals and snacks, happily drinking protein shakes at 10 a.m. and lunch at 2 p.m. Grilled chicken didn't seem so bad at dinner, and I came up with the best salad ever - greens, red onion, edamame and tuna mixed with 1 teaspoon low fat mayonnaise and wasabi. The second week came and went, and I took a reduction in calories OK. But the third week plan, nearly a liquid diet, was scary and I was stressed just looking at it. I skipped to the fourth week but protein shakes for meals one and two were hard to stomach.

When I have done other things, such as Weight Watchers and sugar detoxes, the plans got easier by the week. I learned how to work with it and live with it. I could go out, I could enjoy things, without guilt. And that's the thing about diets - they are designed with such rigidity that they set us up to associate food with guilt.

By the way, in case you were wondering, as of today I am done with Shred. I cannot nor do I want to live a day where three out of four meals are shakes/smoothies or soup.

Note: These points are observations I have made while adhering, mostly, to the Shred diet. I am not a registered dietitian or health coach.

On judging motivation

My old self would sort of hate me right now.

She would hate me for checking out a "diet" book from the library. She'd hate me for thumbing through it on the drive to Cincinnati. She'd hate me for considering the plan.

She'd hate me because she didn't appreciate my motivation. To her, trying to lose 5 or 10 pounds to look better or run faster wasn't a good enough precipitous to hop on the wagon and hold steady through the holidays. To her, the only people who should be thumbing through diet books and grasping for change were those who needed and not those who merely wanted to. With a clothing size in the single digits, to her, I would not get to say "I needed to lose weight." I needed to be content.

Note: I do not think I need to lose weight as I am within the healthy weight range for my height. However, I'd like to get a pair of winter pants from storage without that "Oh fuck, will they fit?" pang in my stomach. 

I was thinking of this as I drove to work with Dr. Ian Smith's "Shred" on the passenger seat, scraps of paper bookmarking pages of interest. I had borrowed the book after getting curious about Dolvett Quince's new book, "The 3-1-2-1 Diet," which led me to Amazon reviews, which suggested Dr. Ian Smith, which ... well, you get the picture.

I was thinking about why others think it's OK to decide whether someone should do something seemingly beneficial for themselves and whether they have "good enough" motivation.

For instance, I was chatting with my aunt over Thanksgiving. My aunt is incredibly adorable - funny, nice and just plain cute. She's one of those people who has always been thin, though, I'll be honest, I have no idea whether or not she works for it. A few years back, a friend of hers was joining a women's only gym in an effort to lose weight and my aunt decided to go as well. She figured it would be a good way to support her friend and the exercise wouldn't hurt either. The ladies in the club, however, weren't so sure. She didn't have to be there ... so why was she?

My aunt heard it time and time again. So much so that she vowed that the next time a comment was made, she would tell them a harrowing tale of weight loss. The next time she was there, sure enough, her interest was called out. She told the person that she'd lost 100 pounds and was working to keep it off. To my aunt's surprise, the commentator's tune changed - applauding her for her accomplishment and continued hard work.

Interesting, eh?

While I don't advocate lying, I do find it interesting that others find it more permissible for people to work toward goals - eating better, exercise, weight loss - based on their perceptions of what's acceptable rather than what's healthy. As long as we are doing it for our own reasons, the specifics shouldn't matter.

And that's what I have to say about that.

Food, lately: Post marathon redux

You want to know something insane?

Don't answer that - I'm going to tell you anyway. Now that the racing season is over and I'm fully embracing the "relax, have fun" mentality, I'm not burning 1,000 calories a day and my body no longer needs endless bowls of oatmeal and bread. Insanity, I told you! It's easy (to want) to forget but the carb loading for Veterans left me feeling bloated and with a bit of an overhang - if you know what I mean.

As I mourned my disappointing race, I decided that the one thing I could fix was my diet. I wanted to rein in calories, cut back on the carbs, reduce sugar and build in some more protein. I am by no means perfect, especially yesterday when I had to take Miles to the doctor (wheezing = steroids + breathing treatments) and a photo shoot at work that necessitated red velvet cake.

It is better, though, and I'll take it.

Breakfast: Egg Beater veggie scramble with side of wheat toast
Snack 1: Fage 0% Greek yogurt + Red Velvet Munchkins (after the doctor)
Lunch: White Bean Chili with mixed green salad
Snack 2: Veggies with Eat Well Enjoy Life Edamame Hummus (my new obsession) + popcorn (unpictured) + 1/2 slice red velvet cake
Dinner: Chickpea burger on lettuce, microwave turnip chips and a couple tablespoons mac and cheese
Snack 3: Oatmeal with chia seeds and a handful of Cheez-Its while I read to Miles

What have you been eating lately?

Social media and weight loss: Three Things Thursday

My plan was to run on the treadmill this morning and catch up on the current season of "The Walking Dead." I had my alarm set for 5:10 a.m., my outfit was set out and socks stuffed in my shoes. I posted about my recovery plan and told Mark that I was getting up.

But, you know how it goes - the alarm goes off, you throw the iPhone across the room and say to hell with fitness. Or at least think about the last two.

Getting out of bed, much less exercising, was the last thing I wanted to do this week, especially as Miles' sleep has been erratic and less than restful lately. I did it, though, and made my way downstairs - first to the main level for water and getting ready and then to the basement where we have the treadmill. I ended up just walking for 30 minutes, deciding that I hate running on the treadmill, but it was good to move the legs.

While I was able to channel some intrinsic motivation this morning to work out, sometimes you need an external push and that's where social media can help.

At least that's what I told Joy Bauer for a segment on this morning's "Today Show."

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The segment, "Real People Lose Weight," featured less conventional tips from Joy Fit Club members. Mark, from Kentucky, likes to keep a race on the calendar. I said that I use social media, namely run dates with Twitter pal Alyse, to keep me motivated.

Here's three ways to use social media to your advantage in terms of losing weight or maintenance.

1. Foster relationships. I know there are exponentially more people who read this blog than comment, and I have Twitter followers with whom I never interact. It's the name of the social media game. However, it's important to spend time connecting with people who reach out and reaching out to others. Had I not done so, I would have never "met" Alyse. Alyse helps keep me motivated and accountable and will also call me on my shit, like when I was teetering on recovering and pushing too hard with my hips. I'd also like to think she'd bail me out of jail if necessary as I would her (a true test of friendship). Other relationships formed through this blog helped keep me honest when I considered dropping down to the Veterans half.

Ways I connect: Search hashtags on Twitter, such as #weightloss and #fitlife. I also connected with people via #turbofire but beware of Beachbody coaches latching on. Facebook groups and pages are great. There are quite a few running ones that aren't related to blogs, such as Running Recipes, and I used the local run club page to meet local pals.

2. Share your successes -- and your failures. Social media can simultaneously turn us into a bunch of braggards and whiners. When success is small, it's easy for us to discount it and not celebrate it, especially when others around us don't share our interests. It's important to honor our accomplishments, though, because it fosters that intrinsic motivation that we need to keep moving toward our goals. On the flip side, it's OK to acknowledge when we aren't doing well as it helps us take not of what we did wrong and move forward. Sharing it on social media allows us to get tips and encouragement for moving on.

3. Focus on the process, not the goal. I know there are a lot of challenges that encourage 4 percent weight loss or a certain amount of miles logged, time exercised, planks held. Those are great - for some people. I've found when I have made broad goals, such as my body after baby posts and strength challenges, that I'm more likely to struggle with adherence. First, I don't often have a plan of attack. Secondly, the pressure is greater and the fear of failure can be stifling, building anxiety and self doubt, which in turn affects that intrinsic motivation. With Alyse, we set a goal for the next day - a single run. A single run is much more doable than saying that we're going to lose 10 pounds before Christmas because we've already met our goal by stepping out the door.

Do you use social media to keep you accountable? Or does it back fire?

Burden of proof

The warning signs flashed brightly.

Intensely.

Incessantly.

There were the most obvious - excess weight and sedentary lifestyle - but also the mention of constant thirst and a family history. And while relatively young, I couldn't help but fear that someone whom I love and care for deeply could be living with a life-changing yet manageable condition.

Type II diabetes.

While my trip home this past weekend was filled with many good things, I feel haunted by the connections I made about this person. They are connections I didn't dare make out loud, not to that person, but quietly and fearfully. First, on a quiet morning run with Mark and, later, with my grandma.

"You were facing the same things," she said. "Until you got some sense."

Sense I did get, which is where the problem (so to speak) lies. The changes I have made, the life I lead, the things I eat have helped me to avoid some of the bad things I thought I was destined to carry. Type II diabetes. High blood pressure. Heart disease. High cholesterol. In doing so, though, I'm now able to sit in a place with a different perspective on a situation like my loved one's ... a place where it feels easy to judge and feel less tolerant. I can look at that person and, with experience, say, "You can do better, be better. Just like me."

And, I know, that's not fair. Change is hard, and everyone has to do it in her own way and in her time. Looking back, there's part of me that thinks that it was a stroke of luck or divine intervention that allowed everything to click the way it did. I know I worked and worked hard but finding how to do it for me is a key I have yet to copy. Without it, to pass around, I can't expect anyone to unlock the door to change. No matter how badly and genuinely I wish I could.

It's a tough spot to be in, and it almost makes me feel guilty. It probably sounds ludicrous but in a way it's like coming into money while your family is still poor. You can do the best to help them but you can only do so much. You can desire to influence the things beyond your control but you can't. You have to accept it and live your life, your best life, regardless. You can't do it for them.

I can set a good example. I can bring healthy dishes to gatherings. I can send out a group invitation to run a family race. But I can't get a person to follow it. I can't make a person eat carrots and hummus. I can't get a person to cross the starting line.

No matter how much I want to. And I do want to.

Some might say that I should talk to this person, to share my hopes and dreams for a life without a diagnosis. It's not an easy thing, though - to open up like that or to hear such concerns. A person could get angry or upset rather than feeling motivated and inspired. A person could feel judged and jaded rather than hopeful and cared for. Worse, a person might not be receptive at all ... because they don't see it as a problem.

This I know, because I've been on the receiving end. It might be the only thing worse than wanting change for the person I love.

Pucker up: Snacking smarter

My advice was succinct: KISS -- otherwise known as Keep It Simple, Sassypants.

I was recently contacted by Joy Bauer's people, who were seeking "unique" tips for weight loss and maintenance for a potential segment - "Real People, Real Weight Loss."

While I am real person who really lost weight, I initially gaffed at the request. People always seem to be looking for new tips, the next best thing, but I believe that the old tips are still round because they still work.

However, in this Pinterest-dominated world, I've found an increased pressure to include crazy concoctions in my daily meals. I've also found that these extravagant dishes often have more than a visual impact - they have a nutritional one, as well. Greek yogurt with berries and nuts might be a great source of protein, healthy fat and antioxidants but it will likely come in at more than 250 calories - and that's with good portioning. It also is a mess to put together. Or maybe that's me.

Hence the KISS principle.

As the premise is simple, it's not all that difficult to implement, especially in terms of snacking. I like to be able to grab a few items (totaling 150 calories or so) and throw them in my lunch bag. And that's it. Simple for this sassypants.

There's a Babybel cheese with fruit. I prefer apples but pears were on sale this week. As for the Babybel? I prefer them all. There's eight flavors, including White Cheddar and Gouda (oh so good-a!), and I purchase many of them on a regular basis with my own money. Well, Mark's. I like to buy things with Mark's money. This mozzarella round is mild and creamy, allowing it to pair well with a variety of fruit.

Laughing Cow wedges with high-fiber crackers. Bonus points: Keep the crackers in the desk drawer. I do not get bonus points as I relied on the options in the vending machine. These Wheat Thin Veggie Chips are not quite the Doctor Kracker ones I was hoping to pick up at the co-op but not too bad if you are mindful of portions.

A little appetizer platter - baby carrots, crackers, Babybel ... and RADISHES. I eat all.the.radishes.

If you insist on being fancy, try a packable version of the caprese salad. Dice tomatoes and Babybel Mozzarella, put it in a plastic container with a drizzle of olive oil and seas salt. Eat solo or with the crackers you stashed in your desk.

Or the ones you steal from a friend's desk. Shh, don't tell him.

How do you snack smarter?

Find more ideas by visiting www.mini-babybel.com or following them on Twitter at @Babybel or on Facebook.

Disclosure: Mini Babybel® Cheese provided me with product for this review. However, thoughts and opinions are my own and do not necessarily reflect those of the brand.

Three Things Thursday: The lies we tell ourselves

1. Last week, I was the recipient of a bag of clothes from a friend of a friend of a friend. Confusing, yes, but to actually explain it would take too long and be even more so. And, really, who cares because it was just a bag of clothes.

Inside, there were some New York & Company shirts appropriate for work, a zebra belt, zebra scarf and a pair of shorts from Charlotte Russe. True to the teeny bopper store's style, they were studded and fashionable and a bit young for this haggard mom of a toddler. I was uncertain I'd keep them upon first view and even more so when I saw they were a size 4.

While I regularly wear a size 4, I regularly wear size 4 pants from stores that I known are notorious for vanity sizing. Old Navy, Banana Repblic, Loft. But a size 4 from a store meant for sticks whose thighs don't touch? There was no way. I am not that skinny. I am not that girl. I don't look in the mirror and see size 4 Charlotte Rusee legs.

I decided to try them on before throwing the shorts into the donate pile. I scrunched my face and got ready for the battle at hand. You know, the tug, suck, tug, squeeze cycle. Lo and behold, they fit. Like pretty well. And while they aren't entirely my style, with a longish T-shirt , they are just fine for a trip to the zoo.

2. People tell me that things will work out. People tell you that everything will be OK the end. But what if it isn't?

I've been listening to podcasts from Jillian Michaels the past few weeks, and the most recent was about bad things. Bad things happen to good people, she says, and we can't spend our lives in this naive bubble of optimism because, inevitably, it will burst. Rather than trying to spew puppies and rainbows and believe in Santa, Jillian advises that we take a realistic approach to our lives and the things that are going on to avoid unnecessary disappointment.

While some might think it's a bit harsh, it brought some much needed clarity to my cloudy mind and resonated with where I'm at in my life. Things might not go my way ... change ... turn for the better and it's only going to be better if I accept that.

3. This time it's going to be different. God, I love to say that and yet it never is. Not usually, at least.

In the beginning of July, I promised myself that I was going to focus more on my core and devote 5 to 10 minutes to strengthening it on non-teaching days. It's a promise that I've made time and time again, and one I've never fulfilled. While I did take some steps to improving the core, starting off strong, I'm pretty sure I only averaged 1.5 core workouts a week.

Boo.Of course, today is the start of a new month ...

What lies do you tell yourself?

Shed the image

"My friend is going to come," C said with a smile as she returned to the aerobics area of the gym.

It was Tuesday night, and I was minutes from hitting start on the iPod to begin my 6:15 p.m. BODYPUMP class. The crowd, as it always is in summer, was little thin, and I was excited to have a warm, enthusiastic body to fill in. C and I quickly set up a station for her in the back - where C thought she'd be more comfortable - and I hustled to the front of the room to get things started.

The class was a good one. Though there were only four ladies, I felt like I was on my game and enjoyed teaching some new material. I pushed myself weight wise and did all of the walking planks on my toes. Plus, I was looking fierce in my knee socks.

But, really, this post isn't about any of that. It is about the friend.

The friend has lost 85 pounds and, after class, she told me that it was her first time exercising in 13 years. Her knees and weight had, in part, kept her out of the game. Until Tuesday. My class was her first time moving her body with the intent of fitness in more than a decade. To say I was humbled would be an understatement.

She had heard the music from the class as she watched her daughter tumble. She had been interested. But intimidated. She was intimidated of what people might think, how people might judge. She was embarrassed, she said, that she had the weight to lose.

But the gym manager had told her about me. My story. It's a story that I sometimes forget is mine. The friend said knowing that I had been there, that I knew what it was like to be there. It made a bit easier to walk through the door. If anything, knowing the story made her want to meet me. I was floored. Because, to me, I should be the one wanting to meet her.

I've thought about the friend a lot since then. I've thought about the things I want to tell her. I want her to know what it's like to feel embarrassed that you had so much weight to lose but the only thing you can do about your highest weight is to change it. Be different. Be better. I want to tell her not to feel intimidated about coming to a class. Fitness instructors want you to come. I want you to come. I want you to feel the way I do when I work out. I want to tell her to feel strong because she is. You have to be strong to commit to losing weigh and following through.

The thing I did tell her is that I hoped to see her again. And she said I would.

It is my hope that I think of her, her story when I teach my classes. It is my hope that I make everyone feel welcome and able because, to me, the beauty of group fitness is it allows a person to do what they can, the camaraderie to get through it and the inspiration to believe in who they can be and shed the image of who they were.