#NEDA week, my struggle and how running saved me!

When your losing weight everyone compliments you. When you've gone too far everyone can see it. Nothing is so scary for someone then the possibility of the weight coming back on. So many struggle with these issues. It is an embarrassing topic for me, but in honor of National Eating Disorder Awareness week, this is my story and what happened. First, you learn how to manage. I have good days and bad days. There are days when I think I'm good and there are days I still feel I need to lose more. For me, it's hard to imagine that I've lost it all. I don't see the girl everyone else apparently sees. I see a girl who still needs to lose 30 pounds. They say it takes longer for the brain to register the weight loss. My brain is definitely taking its time.
When I was heavy, I never hid my eating. I ate what I wanted and drank whatever I wanted. I had grown up in a culture of food but hated to cook. I Loved McDonalds, take out pizza and Chinese food (the American version). When I went to the doctors, given the death sentence and started the diet, I actually was on a healthy path. I ate adequate calories, ate healthy home cooked meals and had a night off and enjoyed a splurge but not over the top. The weight was coming off in a normal, timely matter and I was feeling really good. Unfortunately, something happened in the guy department and things started spinning out of control.
I wanted the weight off faster. I was done with feeling awful about myself that really only came after dieting. I looked at what medical weight loss programs looked like and copied them without going through the actual surgical procedure. I cut back to about 600 to 800 calories per day. Pretty much no carbohydrates. Just fruits, vegetables and lean protein. I gave up red meat, soda and bread. I told myself that it was my fault I was so gross and this is your punishment. I felt weak but, with the amount of weight I still had to lose no one really noticed. My mood completely shifted as well. I was a complete mess. I cried about 3 times per day and had lost all my passion for life. All I cared about was getting the weight off. I wrote down everything that I ate. I still have notebooks full of what I ate, how I felt and notes on how ugly and fat I was. I was always feeling weak and sick. I always felt like I was on the verge of passing out. I went to the doctors and found out I was worse off then before. They sent me to therapy and I was diagnosed with anorexia but I thought they were full of shit. How could someone that big be anorexic I thought. I didn't take it seriously and things just got worse.
Needless to say this diet worked and about 7 months later I had lost about 110 pounds. Up until this point no one had really noticed my weight loss. That all changed. It was like night and day. Everyone saw the change felt the need to comment. Most people would have stopped there. I was a size 6 and looked like a normal 30 year old. for the first time in a long time I was in a single digit size. I actually felt pretty good at that point. I still had hair. I had a good feeling about myself and around this time I started running. I was jogging/walking about 2-3 miles 5 times per week and I was enjoying it but then shit hit the fan again. I couldn't shake the diet and continued to eat very little.
Eating so little plus running equaled a huge weight loss in a small amount of time. I was pretty much burning every calorie I consumed and became obsessed. My hair started to fall out, my eyes were sunken in and I looked and felt horrible. Everyone started to notice and were not very kind. People laughed behind my back and made mean comments. This actually fueled the fire even more. I thought "Well I'll show them, I'm still too fat to be anorexic!" Watching the concern with my family was also difficult. They could tell something was wrong. Inside I was so self conscious and my issues were consuming me. I couldn't see what everyone else saw, that I was hurting myself.
I was completely over my life and had really hit rock bottom. That's when everything changed. I got into the marathon and was about to do something I had always dreamed of but was to embarrassed to say. When I decided to run, it was at mid night and I basically felt I had 2 choices; run or be done. I obviously chose to run and my whole world changed. I got a new therapist who actually helped and an amazing nutritionist who has actually inspired me to go in that direction myself.
When I run, the pain goes away and I feel better. I fight to run. There are days when I want to throw in the towel, stop eating so much and diet down. Running gives me the hope to make healthy choices and enjoy life again. You can't run that much and not eat, just not going to happen. Running also taught me to not be so hard on myself and that no one is perfect. I never want to go back to being unhealthy in either direction and running has taught me how to do that. I'm still fighting the good fight and eventually it will be easier. I've come so far as it is and hopefully someday it will be okay. My hope is that if your struggling, know your not alone and never let anyone tell you your not worth it because you are. I let someone hurt me and will never let that happen again.
Paris is a gift to myself for my change. I'm sure most people think it's for the weight loss but it's for getting through the pain. Lot's of people say running this much is detrimental to your health but for me, it's for my mental health and sometimes that's all that matters. 49 days until I go to my dream city and have it all! Once again if you are struggling get help and know it's okay!

Being considered an Athlete is just weird!

I wasn't the best at sports as a child. When I was a dancer it was an art, even if it was art by using my body. As a person I consider myself girly and not really for rolling around in the mud. As a runner I've become comfortable with sweat, mud, snot rockets and spitting. I've become comfortable with the threat of competition and the love of racing. Actually I've become slightly obsessed with split times, speed runs and spandex. I had someone call me an athlete recently and I was taken aback by it. I was like "What, no, I'm not an athlete." But after thinking about, maybe I am.
When I was a dancer, I loved the physical part way more than the art behind it. I never really saw the true meaning behind the pieces. It always just either looked cool or stupid. When I got older and had to choreograph, I secretly laughed about everyone trying to find hidden meanings in my work. I would get back competition tapes and love to find out what these judges thought I was doing. Truth, I liked the music and advised my students to look constipated. I would tell them to eat a ton of cheese if they had to. I was way more interested in their form and the actual movement. I was known for crazy fast paced pieces and most of my students would say I tortured them. In tap I just love jazz music and loved the different rhythms you could make, plus how fast you could make them. I was always trying to be more flexible, turn more and tap faster.
Clearly with the running I always want to get faster and be more of a competitor. I'm constantly trying to push myself to get ahead regardless of how crazy it looks. I'm always pushing myself I'm sure to a fault. This is what athletes do, so maybe I am one? I'm not an elite clearly, will never be one but the thrill of a personal best is way better than any junk food or alcohol ever brought. The feeling of killing a long run or crushing my previous time by minutes after a race is the best ever. Truth is I was never an artist. To this day if I watch a dance I see the technique and the choreography not the meaning. I love sports and I'm always fascinated by the athleticism behind it. I'm probably one of the only people who watches a football game in silence. I'm always truly in awe of what it takes to perform. Don't get me wrong, I love art and music. I cannot wait to visit the Louvre and hopefully hit up a local music show.
At the end of the day I will push myself to the next level and hopefully get a Personal Best in Paris! Athlete or not I'm going to compete. Plus meet a French guy with fashion sense and never come home! 50 Days and I can't wait!

Time goes by... even when running!

We all get older. Things come and go. We love, we laugh and we fart. We lose touch with childhood friends. We start our careers, our families and have day to day mini dramas that encompass moving on and getting older. I've had some personal drama recently, nothing serious, just stupid shit. You know.. training isn't going as fast as I had hoped, boy crap.. the usual for a girl. Thanks to the power of social media, you read something that brings you right back to who you were at a different time.
I've been on a strange trip through marathon land. My life has completely changed in the past couple of years and had friends come and go. Through running, I've learned how to deal with life's past and present challenges. When I read what happened to an old friend I realized how thankful I should be for my life changes and to still be here living.
Sure certain things are still going to bother me, I'm a girl. It does feel like no matter what happens recently after a hard core run things are better. The one thing I don't do often is reflect on the past. Today I started thinking about all the times I had with this person and how much I actually missed those times. This happens to everyone. Sometimes it's good to look back though and remember the good times.
 I've put so much of the past behind me and vowed to never look back. My goal is to only look forward and never be concerned with what happened yesterday because there's always tomorrow. Cue up the Annie! Maybe it's good to look back so we can appreciate how far we have come and keep focus on the future. I'm living such a weird crazy life now that most people can't even imagine. Actually for the first time yesterday, I actually felt like a real athlete. Not in the sense of sponsorship and headed to Rio, but that I train for an athletic event. I'm still slow, I totally get that but yesterday was a weird feeling of "hey I might actually be athletic."
I'm really fucking lucky and don't think for a second I don't know that. Everyday I'm super thankful for the life I have and to be able to run around in spandex scarring the citizens of Suffolk County (Boston). After reading this passage on the good old Facebook, I took a second to think about the past and realized how much everything has changed. This person used to love a certain style of shirt and I wore one in honor of her. I paired with a fluffy skirt and pointy toe flats but that's neither here nor there. I'm thankful to go to Paris and continue living the dream. A crazy dream only 1% of the population engages in apparently.

When you question your training... train harder!

Why doesn't my hair look like that when I'm running? Oh that's right, I'm not trying to take a picture:). For about 3 1/2 months I've been on a new training program. More miles, more speed and more hills. I wasn't quite sure if it was working. I hadn't seen the results I thought I would. I figured I would be faster by now. I started to become paranoid and over analyzing every run. Could I have gone faster? Did I push myself? Was there enough hills? This was clearly not healthy! Once I looked at from a sane perspective, I had achieved more.
 I shaved 32 seconds off my split time from NYC to my NYC half in 2 months. That may not seem like a lot but it actually is. Plus feeling like ass that morning makes me question was that really my best? I can tell you the answer is no. Doing speed workouts on that awful treadmill an 8 minute split felt pretty easy. Let me put that into perspective. I wasn't pushing it. Most of the time I was doing a 7:30 split time. I also know from my training runs I have been clocking under 8 so I'm right where I wanted to be. Now, I'm not jinxing jack shit. I know I could show up to Paris and perform like crap. Hence my half.
The goal now, being so close but still in the time frame to enhance my performance, to push harder. Faster speed running and faster pace runs. Maybe amp up the mileage (who am I kidding, of course I will!). I'm also going to look at my diet and see what I can do for better performance. I want to know I did everything I possibly could in the amount of time I had for the best results. I would also like to avoid the usual... Shiting my pants, nipple bleeds, chafing in any area, black toe and I would love for my hair to like the picture throughout the race.
Paris is only 51 days away and it's close but far. If I screw up there will be other races. This race is for me though. After dreaming of this city forever, I want to go in and compete strong. I want this to be the adventure of a lifetime and if I have to spend a few nights on the bathroom floor because I can't move... then qualify for Boston (instead get into London), then it's totally worth it! Plus find a French guy with a great fashion sense, find the perfect job and never come back. Yeah, I have big dreams:)! Au revoir!

Plus sized for a runner... Why does it matter?

When looking at the sizes of the elite runners, I realized I weigh a lot more than them. Even though I look like I weigh 100lbs soaking wet.. I don't. In races I've seen girls larger than me killing it and finishing faster than me. There are so many articles on losing weight with running and smaller = faster. Is being the smallest you can be really the key to success? Or, are these girls who get paid to run hundreds of miles per week just that small due to the amount of miles? I think every runner who competes even on a recreational level questions this. According to these lovely ladies stats online, I'm plus sized in the venue of competitive running.
For me this has only to do with running. If your not a complete bat shit crazy runner, who gives a shit what your size or weight it. As long as your healthy and happy... own it! Unfortunately for me who wants to be the fastest I can be, this becomes an issue. I've stayed in the same ball park weight throughout all 3 of my marathons. I'm still at the weight as I get closer to Paris. I know that my disgusting habit of smoking contributes to my turtle pace but is my weight also an issue. Of course my nutritionist and therapist say "fuck no!" but they also look at my BMI and getting me sane. They are not really concerned about my pace per mile.
They all say I'm pure muscle and I don't want to lose any muscle I've obtained but, if I was smaller would I go faster? It makes sense, the less load you have to carry 26.2 miles, the easier it will be. As anyone will tell you, it's hard to lose in training. Maybe the real key is to run more miles. I've tried everything and I actually eat a lot less than the elites do. I also have a full time job and can't run a marathon every day. Maybe it is all about training. Maybe until Nike signed my ass and I can run full time then I have to be happy with my slow progression. Either way I will do everything I can to succeed.
Only 53 days until my Parisian dream comes true. What my end result will be... 4/12/15 we shall find out. I'm still feel not completely ready but I have some time. Hopefully I'll find a great outfit and I hairstyle that will actually stay put! Hopefully I won't shit my pants and be happy with my time. Looking like an ass in Paris is not the goal!

A recreational runner... Being slow is ok right?

Giving up or giving in has never been an option. Even full of self doubt, I get out there everyday and run the mileage. Some days are faster than others. I give my new found hobby 110% and leave it on the streets. There are days though.. I wish I could be faster! I think every runner has self doubt and maybe that's what motivates us all to do better and train harder. Recently I hit the "wall" mentally. I couldn't figure out why. Was it burn out? Was I eating enough? Really at the end of the day, I knew what the problem was.. My self consciousness has finally come back to haunt me.
I know I'm slow, I'm new. I haven't even made it through a year of marathon training. Before that I barely made it through a 5k. I know I have a long way to go. Most people started their journey's back in their teens or even before. I started running when I was 29. We can all get caught up reading about others and their success stories. I even wrote a blog about comparisons. For me, I know the problem is myself. I still feel self-conscious running the streets of Boston. I'm in the city of qualifiers! So many here are running 7 minute miles on the regular. My fastest race pace is 8. I've been challenged silently on the street before and it is kinda fun. Especially with the college kids. Clearly they are like "I can totally kick the slow old ladies ass!"
I think this has become a problem for me because I'm pushing myself harder than ever and I feel like I'm not see much of a result. Maybe I am, it's hard to tell. My last half was a personal best. I shaved off 35 seconds on my pace per mile. I'm hoping by Paris for a full minute off that. It won't happen, but it's a goal to strive for. When I run outside sometimes I'm embarrassed. It's something I have to get out of my head. While it may be the driving force, it's not the greatest habit. the good thing about snowmaggedon here in Boston is that the snowbanks are so high that if I run on the sidewalk... You can't see me.
With Paris 54 days away I know the competition will be fierce. Going off in a low wave scares the bejesus out of me. Hopefully I can hang with that crew. If my half is any indication, then yes. If that was a fluke then I'm fucked:(. At least I'll be in a beautiful city to drown my sorrows!

Getting Back to the Reason... Paris!

You hit a mental wall then break out of it by remembering the goal. Paris! The fashion capitol, the city of love and the place you have dreamed of all your life. There are so many reasons to go to Paris. I would love for someone to think of a reason not to go to Paris. Just to stand in front of the Effiel Tower and bask in its beauty is a reason to push harder than you ever have. To run and be accepted to run in the most beautiful city in the world is a reason enough for a grueling winter full of numb extremities and crazy training injuries!
Sometimes through all the mini dramas of life we have to step back and look at the big picture. That big picture being the Louis Vuitton spring line or CHANEL bags. Going to the city where these pieces that I believe is art originated is crazy. So many up and coming designers as well will be amazing to see up close and personal. Walking the streets and seeing French street style all around you is something I cannot fathom. Definitely looking forward to tiny museums, little cafes and people watching. Just to be there and be a part of the culture almost brings me to tears.
I love cities. Growing up in a small town will have that effect on you. Dreaming of what else is out there. All the different people, languages and culture fascinates me. Definitely going to hit up some Paris nightlife, got to see what the kids are doing. Hoping M83 is in town (one of my favorite bands)! Heels may be off the menu for a few days after the marathon, but we can rock some cute flats. I've decided to run my 22 miler in NYC. 3+ loops around Central Park, plus stock up on Canal street with cheap fashion accessories. Cute sunglasses, already have the perfect handbags and some essential clothing pieces to perfect the look. You have to do your once in a lifetime trip perfectly!
Trust me.. I haven't forgotten the tiny race in the middle of the trip. I'm back on board with my training and I want to walk away with a personal best. Have my diet back on point and I have decided that absolutely nothing is going to ruin my dream! I may question everything, but I will fight my own demons for Paris. In this stage in the game, training is always grueling. This is when the mileage is the most and the weather here in Boston has not treated us so kindly. I have fallen, forced into the gym and freeze my ass off. I know when I cross that finish line at the Arc de Triumph it will be all worth it and I won't remember my hands in pain and losing feeling. 54 Days until the most epic race of a lifetime! To Paris with love!