W3D2 C25K

This morning, I got up, slowly, and with less enthusiasm than I’m previously accustom to these days, hastily stretched my body and booked it to the bus, with 2 minutes to spare. I walked my away across the giant mall parking lot, and into the gym. I hopped on the the very last (or very first, depending which way you’re counting) in the row elliptical, and did a random set for 10 minutes. Usually, I do the Cardio option, but I wanted to mix it up a little.

After I finished the elliptical, I moved on to the row of treadmills and hopped on one of those. I started Week3 Day 2 of c25k, and just went for it. In the beginning, and then again towards the end, my lower back/hip on the left side started feeling a little pinchy. I’ve never had a pain there before and since it happened when I was walking, not jogging, I figured it was just a bit of alignment being thrown off. I sure hope its not anything too serious. I stretched when I got home, and I feel fine now. But I think at this point I really do need to take days off from the program in between days. Usually I do this same routine every Tuesday Wednesday and Thursday. From now on, I’m going to give myself a break in between days. I’ll still be going to the gym, but on Wednesdays I’m going to do the circuit training instead.

So it shall be written, so it shall be done.

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The days go by like molasses and spread like wildfire

Being sad is debilitating. I haven’t had a good cry yet (me, who cries at everything, cannot cry because her aunt has passed) and so I’m just a ball of nerves and flint, waiting for a spontaneous combustion of tears.

Eating wise, I wouldn’t call these last few days “binging” but it certainly wasn’t mindful, and damn, I didn’t want to lift my head, let alone my feet. I danced, when I felt like dancing (Which is not to say often; also, I’ve decided thats why my thighs and calves are so tight right now, and the rest of me is a blobby blabby ball of blub) and sang, when I felt like singing. I raised my arms above my head to stretch my spine and pray that when my manos were lowered, the switch would flip, and I would start the next stage of the grieving process.

So it looks like I’ll be in Colorado for my b-day. It’ll be nice seeing my mom again, as I usually only see her once a year. We decided it was important for me to be at the memorial service. I want to feel like I’m apart of my family, and I never have. I want to honor my beautiful aunt, and relearn my family history, as its MY history, and I’m so afraid of losing it.

I’m so sad right now.

My most remembered memory of my aunt:

I was five, maybe six years old. Having loved my aunt thus far my entire life, I was thrilled to hear she would be at my house, the very next morning, on a weekday. She’d be there to see me off to school! Yay! I loved visiting her house, 60 miles south of mine, surrounded by trees and shrouded in mystery. She had two dogs and a bunch of chicken and iguana. It was my favorite place to visit. I thought I wouldn’t be able to sleep, I was so excited. Of course, I zonked out almost immediately.

As sleep goes, it was slow and fast, dreams spinning, colors twirling, and then suddenly, DING DONG! went the bell.

“Who wakes me from my slumber?” I bellowed. I ran downstairs and opened the door. There was my beautiful aunt, with her long blonde hair, and shiny blue eyes, holding a plate of still warm homemade apple cinnamon raisin bran muffins (which were to DIE for), smiling and happy. She was like magic- beautiful and unreal. She and my mom sat in the living room, sipping coffee and getting down to business- the way they do (did). I ate one muffin, reveled in its deliciousness, then prepared to get ready for the day! I remembering feeling alive and refreshed that morning. I wanted to feel that way every day for the rest of my life.

It was 5 o’clock in the morning.

My Aunt Died This Morning

In May, when I restated the purpose of this blog, I mentioned I was waiting for a couple of things to happen. I was waiitng for my grandpa and my aunt to die.

Both of these have happened now. I’m not quite as torn up about my aunt, but it did take a whole day for my grandpa’s death to full hit me, so we’ll see.

I know I’m not the only one who experiences loved ones passing. I think I’ve been very lucky in that most the people I’ve known that have died, had good long lives first. Not all, but most. But it always hurts way more, it always effects me way deeper than I thought it could, and I always feel completely alone in my loss. Like no one could understand my pain. If you’ve lost loved ones, I’m sure you know what I mean. Sorry’s and well wishes from anyone just… don’t help. Imagining they’re in a better place is of little comfort. Words of comfort are without meaning, and no one could ever say the thing you’re waiting to hear, which is this; this a joke, no one is dying and no one is dead, because we live forever.

Some Kid Called Me Fat Again

“Fat fuck!”

“Cow!”



“Heifer!”

“Go Visit Jenny Craig, you fat bitch!”

It always suprises me how mean people can be sometimes. I was minding my own business, sitting on the bench, waiting for the bus and looking at my ipod, trying to figure out what to listen to. Suddenly, I hear a shout, and as I look up, a car drives by with some kid hanging out. I realized he yelled, “Fat fuck!” at me.

“Me?” I asked myself.  In an instant I thought, “But I’m not fat! Oh wait… yes. On the outside, I am.”

I don’t feel fat unless I’m entirely aware of it. I wasn’t aware of it in that moment. At that moment, I was planning out how long it would take to charge my headphones that had just died so I could go on Week 2 Day 2 of Couch to 5K. I was feeling proud of myself and this dumb kid has to smash my allusions about myself and remind me that society has an issue with the way I currently look. Remind me that I am fat. Its not often I feel fat, but i did just as soon has he drove off. That feeling lasted for the rest of the day. Looking back on it today, I allowed what happened to control my emotions, and stuffed my face. I ate until I was full, and then I ate again. I couldn’t even tell you what went into my mouth this weekend. There was no mindfulness. There was no self efficacy. There was me feeling fat, confused and alone. So I ate.

What I don’t understand is why people would do something like that in the first place. Why is it okay to make fun of fat people? Or people who are different to begin with? Is it funny to call a fat person names? How could a fat person possibly make someone feel so inferior about themselves that they would have to shoot the fat person down first, in order to what? Feel stronger? Bigger? Better? I don’t get it. I don’t. 

I remember deciding when I was a very young child that I didn’t want anyone making fun of me, so I wouldn’t do it to them.  And yet, it still happens. I go out of my way to avoid situations where I could risk exposure to humiliation, or laughter at my expense, and still it happens. They pick that one thing I can’t seem to control. The weight, my shield.

I mean, dammit. I was just waiting for the bus. Why did he have to be so mean?

The next day, I went on Week 2 Day 1 of C25K. I got shin splints from not striking with my heel, so it was pretty impossible to pull my toes/foot back up. I walked home, in tears feeling defeated. That was the first time I had been unable to complete a day. I realized I only have 5 weeks to get myself up to running 3.1 miles.

So i continued to eat some more.

Finally, The 4th arrived, and while it took me some time to get out the front door, once I did, I completed Week 2 Day 1. But there was no joy. Just pain. I limped home, and my roommate and I played Scrabble until our party started at 4pm.   And then I ate some more. Bean dip, tortilla chips, hamburgers, hot dogs, two kinds of cookies, beer, and baked macaroni and cheese. Ate until stuffed, then passed out upstairs in my room for a good two hours.

Today, I did Week 2 Day 2 of C25k, which is the same as Week 2 Day 1. Day 3 will be the same as well. And I worry that I’ll need to keep doing this week, but more importantly, if I want this thing to go right, then I’m going to need to be very focused on my success. Its been very easy for me this far to allow myself to be mindless, or be mindful of taste, but not hunger. I’m not being very accountable.

Clearly, I still need help with the emotional outbursts, and a better way to recognise and handle them. I really like when I first started this journey when I got made at my roommate, and put myself in timeout because I couldn’t figure out if I wanted to eat because I was mad, or hungry. Thats what I should have done this weekend, but I didn’t.

Its okay. I know my punishment for this kind of behavior. The punishment is, staying fat and getting fatter.