Missing: My Running Mojo

Once upon a time, I was a runner.

After years of living a sedentary lifestyle, in 2008 I started exercising, and in 2009, I began running, something I never thought I would do. I started with the Couch to 5k program, ran in my first 5k race, and I was hooked. While I didn't always love the act of running itself (let's face it, it's HARD), I loved how I felt after finishing a run, and I loved the calorie burn that running provided. From the beginning of my running journey, however, I struggled to gain momentum and find my groove. I would run very consistently for months then either get burned out or get bored. I got in a rut of only running short distances, which prompted me to train for a half marathon that I then decided not to run. After that experience, I took a couple months off from running, and just as I was getting back into a routine, I got pregnant. I ran sporadically for the first trimester and even a little bit in the second before deciding to stick to walking, as running just felt uncomfortable.

After I had Charlotte, I couldn't WAIT to get back into running but struggled to find time to workout when Charlotte was a newborn (and for months after that).  I did finally manage to finish Couch to 5k again and ran a 4-miler on my 30th birthday that October, but then my running fell off until the new year, when I decided to try yet again to complete a half marathon. Training for a half the second time around was really a wonderful experience. I enjoyed my runs a lot more and felt confident and ready to meet my goal. I finally crossed that half marathon finish line in March 2012 and felt on top of the world. Still, after the race I floundered a bit since I had no real goal to reach for, and my running was rather inconsistent through the summer months. I still managed to run a few races, though, and when fall rolled around, I started to find my running groove again. I set a new 5k PR and came within SECONDS of finishing in under 30 minutes, and a few days after that I ran 4 miles for the first time in months. I was looking forward to the cooler months ahead and thinking about running the Andrew Jackson Half again and maybe even running another half in the latter part of 2013.

Then I got diagnosed with ulcerative colitis, and my running came to a complete halt. For weeks I was so sick that running was impossible and yet I couldn't wait to get back to it. Then, slowly, I started to regain my energy. I was discouraged by the thought of having to start all over with my running and discouraged by the fact that my doctor strongly advised against my doing any more half marathons, but I rang in the new year by running a mile without stopping. I thought I was back on track.

The truth is, though, that the run on January 1 is the only mile I have run nonstop since the year began. Last week I could barely run for four minutes straight on the treadmill. I am so frustrated that I have lost all my endurance, and while I know part of it couldn't be helped because I was sick for a solid two months, if I had been more consistent with my running after that first mile, I wouldn't have lost all of my running base. I truly am back at the beginning again. I don't want to go through Couch to 5k for what seems like the 100th time, but I think I need to. I just can't go out and run a 5k tomorrow, and that kills me.

Not only have I lost my endurance, I have also lost my speed. Before I got sick, I was finally getting faster at races and getting so close to meeting my goal of a sub-30:00 5k, and now I am back to running a 12-minute mile.  There is nothing wrong with a 12:00 minute mile except for the fact that I have been there and done that and am ready to move on.

I can't move on, though, if I don't get up and MOVE. It's time to stop whining and start running! I may be starting over, but at least I know that I can do this because I've done it before. I will get my mojo back!

Now, if you'll excuse me, I better get to bed so I can get up and hit the treadmill. :)

Weigh-In Wednesday: Out of Focus

What do you know, it's been 5 weeks since my last weigh-in post. I confess that the reason for this is not that I've stopped weighing but that I haven't liked the numbers I've seen. Still, keeping quiet isn't helping me, so here you go.

 

Weight January 16: 167.6

Weight today:          168.6

GAIN of 1 pound

I'm now up a solid 10 pounds from where I was in December, and I'm not happy about it. However, this dissatisfaction obviously hasn't motivated me to do something about it. As I wrote yesterday, self-discipline has been severely lacking from my life, and my body is paying the price, as is my self-esteem. My size 12 pants are all starting to feel too tight, and most of the time when I look at myself in the mirror, I feel gross. Just writing that sentence makes me feel sad because I am still smaller than I have been since I was 18 years old, and I have managed to maintain a 93-pound weight loss. It's not like I'm a total failure, and yet I have felt that way recently. I feel like I will never lose another pound.

I know a lot of this is all in my head and stems from my tendency towards negativity. I would never say to other people some of the things I say to myself. I know I am often too hard on myself, but then sometimes I think I am letting myself off too easily. Still, it's not as though the negative self-talk I often employ actually helps me reach my goals. More often not, the negativity just leaves me feeling more defeated. A defeated life is no life at all, especially for the Christian. In Christ I have freedom, and yet I often live as though I am still in bondage.

Ultimately, I need to stop thinking about myself so much and start thinking more on Christ. He is the remedy to all that ails me, both physical and spiritual. He is my strength when I am weak. And I am so desperately weak.

Tonight I call to mind the words of a wonderful hymn:

Turn your eyes upon Jesus,

Look full in His wonderful face.
And the things of the earth will grow strangely dim

In the light of His glory and grace.





May I turn my focus away from myself and to Christ. 

Good Intentions, Zero Follow-Through

Plans. I have lots of them. I plan to make all sorts of new recipes, read all kinds of new, life-enriching books, achieve new fitness goals, teach Charlotte Mandarin (not really). But so often those plans? They remain only that: ideas in my head, not realities. After all, it's easier to use the same old recipes over and over again; I don't have time to read books (but plenty of time to read my Facebook news feed); it's winter and our treadmill is broken, so I don't want to run outside, etc., etc.

If there is one thing I am good at, it's making excuses.

And then I beat myself up because once again I failed to live up to the expectations I had for myself. Not a day goes by that I don't think I could have done so many things better, but when I am honest with myself I realize that many days I don't give the effort required to achieve those things.

I am realizing anew how incredibly lacking in self-discipline I am. I haven't exercised consistently since I got out of the hospital, and while for about a month of that time I really didn't have the energy to exercise, I do now. There is no reason for me not to be able to exercise at least 3 times a week. The only thing standing in the way of that is me and my excuses.  What is most pathetic about this is that at the end of January a new gym opened up across the street from my office, and I got a membership to that gym for free. FREE. Do you know how many times I have been since I joined on January 31? Three, and one of those was just to attend an orientation. How dare I squander something that was just what I needed after my treadmill broke? How dare I not take advantage of this wonderful opportunity?

Even worse than a wasted gym membership is all the time I waste on things that do not matter. I say that I never feel like I have enough time, but I spend a good portion of my evenings watching TV or browsing the Internet. Charlotte is in bed by 6:30, Stephen and I eat by 7:00, and I don't go to bed until 10:00 p.m. or later. At the very least I have 3 hours every evening that I can use to do whatever I want. That adds up to 15 hours during the week and even more on the weekends. How can I say I don't have enough time?

What it all boils down to is priorities. I make time for the things that matter, and if you looked at a week in my life you would conclude that the things that matter to me are Facebook and my iPhone and the Internet. What kind of legacy is that? What kind of example am I setting for my daughter? Most importantly, what message am I sending to my Heavenly Father? I'm not saying that I should never use the Internet or that Facebook is evil, but I am saying that when those things prevent me from spending time with the Lord, there's a problem.

One of the ways that I am attempting to combat this excessive waste in my life (if that phrase even makes sense) is giving up Facebook for Lent. I realized last week how much time I spend scrolling through my news feed, and I decided that a break would be good for me. I have missed it more than I care to admit, but it has been good for me.

I am also trying to be more intentional with my time spent reading God's Word, and I am really enjoying YouVersion's Psalms reading plan, which will take me through the book of Psalms in 31 days (I highly recommend the YouVersion app or website. They have tons of free reading plans, and you can listen to audio versions of Scripture as well).

Do you struggle with self-discipline? How do you work on being more disciplined?

Don't Stay Silent

Disclaimer: This post contains discussion of bodily functions. Don't say you weren't warned. 

I have to confess to you, readers: I'm struggling with this whole I-have-a-chronic-condition thing. When I last wrote about my ulcerative colitis, I was about to start a new medication, an injectable drug called Humira. I have now been giving myself shots every other week for 8 weeks. The first time I had to get the injection, I went into the doctor's office, where two nurses taught me how to give myself the shots. That first round was 4 shots, and it was traumatic. I cried, and I had to take a break between each shot to compose myself. The medicine burns when it is going into my body, and even though I had read about this, I still was shocked by how much it burned. Fortunately, the burning doesn't last long (maybe 10 seconds or so), but that first day I sat in my car afterwards and just sobbed. My stomach was tender from the shots because two injection sites had a slight reaction and became red and irritated (though only temporarily), and I was emotionally spent. The Lord was so good to comfort me, though, and since then I have done fairly well with the shots. They are a routine to me now, something I don't have to think too much about.

What I am struggling with is the fact that the medicine does not seem to be working. I have really noticed no change in my symptoms since starting Humira, and I am feeling very discouraged. I am still taking prednisone and asacol along with the Humira, but the whole point of taking Humira is to get me into remission and off of those other medications. I am so thankful that I am now on the lowest dose of prednisone so the side effects are not nearly as bad as they once were, but in general it's not a good medicine to take long term, and the sooner I can stop taking it, the better. My GI doctor said it can take 6 to 8 weeks for the Humira to start working, and I am at the 8 week mark right now. I go back to the doctor on February 28, so I will see what he says then if the medicine still doesn't seem to be making any difference.

The truth is, I would love to wake up tomorrow and not have any more diarrhea. That is what I pray for. I want to feel normal again, but the truth is I don't know if I will feel normal again. I don't know if this is just a new normal I have to adjust to, if this is as good as it gets. And to be honest, how I am right now is, for the most part, bearable. Though I still have diarrhea 3-5 times a day, I feel ten times better than I did when I was in the hospital, and for that I am grateful. I have an incredibly understanding boss who has been more than supportive, and when I had to miss work on Tuesday because I was up in the night and felt horrible most of the day, he told me to take all the time I needed. The Lord has provided me for me in many ways, and there are still days where I am overwhelmed by His love and His kindness towards me. I have to guard myself against feeling sorry for myself or complaining because I really have been given so much.

The difficult part of this condition is its unpredictable nature. I have developed a good deal of anxiety about being somewhere and needing to use the restroom and not being able to find one. I feel embarrassed when people ask me how I am doing because I don't know how to respond since the truth is I am sick of going to the bathroom so much, and who wants to hear that? I hate the fact that there will be times/have already been times when a family outing is interrupted by the fact that I need to find a bathroom and find it quickly.

I have wrestled with whether or not to write this post. It's not pleasant. It's not something people really talk about. But I have also realized that staying silent doesn't help me. Staying silent makes me feel isolated and alone, and I know I am not. On Tuesday night I shared with a group of women from my church much of what I have been struggling with, and even though I felt slightly humiliated to be talking about something like poop at a prayer meeting, the way they prayed for me and loved me was just what I needed. The peace of Christ came over me as they prayed, and I was reminded anew that this is what the body of Christ is for--to lift up and encourage one another and magnify the Lord together. I wasn't the only woman in that room hurting. I wasn't the only one in need of prayer. We all need prayer, but if we don't open ourselves up to being vulnerable, we miss out on the beauty of community. 

One of the biggest blessings I have seen come out of this whole experience has been the sense of community I have experienced among my church family, and if I had kept quiet about everything going on, I would have missed out on that community.  I had to go through a terrible experience so I could see what was right in front of me all along, but as one woman said before we left that night, "How can we help bear each others' burdens if there are no burdens to bear?" How can we help each other if we don't know the needs?

Suffering is a guarantee in this life, and while we often can't control what happens to us, we can always control our response. We can choose self-pity, or we can do what James 1 urges believers to do and "count it all joy." We can choose isolation, or we can choose community.  We can choose anxiety, or we can choose prayer. I am striving every day to make the right choices, and by God's grace, I will do so. I take comfort daily in the fact that God does not waste my pain, nor does He waste yours. He is using it to mold me into His likeness, to make me like Jesus. I take comfort in the fact that though all my prayers may not be answered in the way that I hope, no prayer is ever wasted. Every prayer brings me before the throne, closer to my Father, and further from my sin. When I feel defeated and tempted to despair, I must remind myself that I do not have a God who is unable to sympathize with my weaknesses. I must remind myself that I have a God who knows me, who knows ALL, and who has never been proven unfaithful. I may stay silent about certain things, but I certainly can't stay silent about THAT.

Charlotte at 23 Months

I can't believe my last Charlotte update was 4 months ago! I also can't believe we've had the privilege of seeing this sweet face for 23 whole months:

Charlotte is a busy girl these days. She loves roaming around the house, exploring and getting into everything she's not supposed to. Her favorite things to play with are basically things that are not actually toys, such as pens, paper clips, my contact case, our phones, remotes, etc. She also loves to color, although most of the time it seems that she enjoys putting the crayons in and out of the bag and watching Stephen or me draw more than she enjoys drawing herself. A few weeks ago I saw a picture that someone had posted on facebook of their child using finger paints in the tub, which I thought was a great way to contain a pretty messy activity, so that very week I got out the finger paints we bought Charlotte for Christmas and let her paint the bathtub. She had a blast, and it's now a weekly activity. The paint is washable, so it comes off very easily, and Charlotte loves to mix all the colors together.

One of the cutest things about this age is how much Charlotte loves to talk. It seems as though overnight Charlotte's vocabulary exploded, and she can now form 2- and 3-word sentences, her favorite of which is "I did it." She's very proud of anything she is able to do on her own and often says, "I do it" or "I got it" to let us know that she wants to try something. Some mornings when we go into her room, she starts talking before we even pick her up, and she continues to chatter away as we change her diaper and get her ready for the day. It's easier to understand her than it was a few months ago, but we still find ourselves saying to each other, "What is she saying?" fairly often. We're teaching her how to say "please" and "thank you," and while most of the time we have to prompt her to say these, she has said "thank you" to me spontaneously several times recently and in the right context, which gives me hope that she is learning what the words actually mean.

Music is still one of Charlotte's favorite things, and she can sometimes be very selective about what music she wants to hear. Depending on her mood, not just any song will do, and she will keep saying "no" until we find the song she wants to her. Some of her favorites include "My God Is So Big," "The Lord's Army," and "Somebody That I Used to Know" (yes, the one by Gotye). She also has started singing along to some songs, like "Jesus Loves Me" and "God Is So Good," and she came home from daycare one day recently singing "Happy Birthday" because one of her classmates had a birthday that day.That night at bedtime she wanted to sing "Happy Birthday" to herself, to Bailey, to Stephen, and to me.  I love hearing her little voice and hope that she grows up wanting to sing in choirs at church.

Playing at the park

Speaking of bedtime, Charlotte continues to be a rock star when it comes to sleeping (with the exception of last night, when she woke up crying around 8:00-something and didn't go back to sleep until after 10:00). Most nights she is in bed by 6:30, if not a little earlier, and she rarely puts up a fight. She usually sleeps until 6:30 or 7:00 and will nap for 1.5 to 2 hours at daycare during the day , but we hardly ever get her to nap that much for us on the weekends.

We had been dreading weaning Charlotte of her pacifier but were determined to try when she turned 2, but she weaned herself! One night about three weeks ago Stephen asked her if she wanted to throw her paci away (thinking she had no real desire or intention of doing so), and she said "Yes" and marched right over to the trash can and threw it away! We were completely flabbergasted and thought for sure she would want it back at bedtime, but bedtime came and she went down fine without. We decided then and there that there was no going back and that even if she got upset and asked for it again, we weren't going back. I just knew we'd be facing some long nights over the next few days, but Charlotte proved us completely wrong and has done a FABULOUS job of sleeping without her pacifier. She didn't have a single bad night after she gave up the pacifier, and we are so incredibly grateful and are also completely aware of the fact that we really had nothing to do with this success, haha.

Having a toddler in the house is never dull, and we are so blessed by our sweet girl. She makes us laugh on a daily basis, and even though she has her share of tantrums and bad moods, we wouldn't trade her for anything. We love you to the moon and back, Charlotte!

I love how she is looking at Stephen in this picture. She is such a Daddy's girl!

Daddy makes the best jungle gym.