Why I exercise (with bonus marathon recap)

Note: this was written last year and for some reason I never took it out of draft form

New look for the blog...did you notice?? That other one seemed angry. This one is more me....PALM TREES!! The single greatest plant, tree...whatever...They're beautiful, whether it's sunny, cloudy or raining...and I love the sound of wind blowing the fronds.


So, I wanted to write this in response to the comment on a recent blog post implying I exercise to be a size 2. First off...I am NOT a size 2. Let's do a little history of Ann....

I was always really small...short, too thin...until puberty. Then I guess I was normal. I only remember what I weighed in high school because I remember being excited I made the cut for donating blood at blood drive they did at our school. I was somewhere between 110-120 throughout high school. I ran track and cross country 9th through 11th grade but not my senior year...and I do remember going up at least one size for my prom dress...no worries though...dorm food sucked so much that I had an Aunt talk to my mom about whether I might be anorexic (I wasn't).

I never gave much thought to my weight, or my health for that matter. I stayed pretty active til I had my kid and even then I lost my baby weight really easily and returned to my high school weight.

I had a horrible diet. I loved fast food. Loved soda. Loathed water and thought salads were "rabbit food". Thanks to my first husband being Italian, I was introduced to pastas I had never had before and it was instant love...lasagna --how did I ever live without it?

Dave has pictures of when we met...I was thin then..around 115. That was when I was 27.

I had started antidepressants then and because the weight gain was slow, I attributed it to getting old. Everyone on my mom's side is heavy and although I had always felt like I resembled my dad's side more, I figured it was just inevitable that I end up fat. I got up over 140 before I really got alarmed... and stopped weighing myself---denial at it's finest.

From the time I met Dave, he was always critical of my diet. Not because of weight, but because he didn't want me to die of clogged arteries. I was extremely resistant to his subtle (and not so subtle) attempts to get me to eat better. No one was taking my bacon or my mac n cheese away.

I quit my meds cold turkey and started to lose weight almost immediately and with zero effort. I think I had started drinking water and a little less soda but that was about it. I dropped to 130 and was happy....I think I was a size 8 at this point. I was relieved to see that I was going to continue to take after my dad's side...no worries, I could keep eating and sitting on the sofa!


Pause for the story of the marathon--the start to exercising forever


Then at Christmas 2009, I had just turned 40, I was at a family get together and my cousin was talking about marathons. I had always wanted to run one but had thought that train had left the station. I had wanted to do it by 30. Learning that Oprah did one had rekindled my interest but not enough to do anything about it. Also watching The Biggest Loser reminded me of my desire and some of the contestants were older, all in worse shape than me, so maybe it wasn't too late. I mentioned this to my cousin and she immediately began encouraging me to go for it. She said she would even fly back into town the following October to run with me. She told me how much fun it was running the Baltimore marathon (there was a spectator who hands out gummy bears, one who gave out beer--a very supportive community and you get to finish in Camden Yards) and I got to thinking "Why not?"

Let me back up....After having my kid I became somewhat of a couch potato. I would literally get winded walking up stairs. I would bitch at Dave if he parked too far away at a store. I would THINK about exercising because he did stuff, like weight lifting and pushups. A time or two I even attempted to start running again...never making it more than a mile and never doing it more than once. Dave would go to the park and ride his bike up the hills, suggesting we should go hiking...I laughed and laughed...I liked being a couch potato, I wore it like a badge. I have no idea why I was so resistant to eating better and taking care of myself but I was.

I am pretty sure he didn't think there was any way in hell I would stick with this marathon idea. I started researching training plans--realizing I had never even considered that people TRAIN for these things. I thought you just did it. I would look at the schedule and wonder if I was in over my head. I counted out the number of weeks til the marathon and when was the last possible minute I could start. God forbid I start right away....do extra?? Hell no! I was going to train, run it and go back to the couch! That was my plan all along....cross that bitch off the bucket list and boom I am done!

I started telling everyone I was going to run a marathon....I figured the more people I told, the more I would feel obligated to follow through.

I started the last week of February...in Pennsylvania....you know by now I do not like the cold. So picture me attempting to run in the most miserable of conditions (or so I thought then!). I started with a  12 week plan that would get me to 6 miles and then an 18 week plan to get me to the marathon. Each plan required 4 days of running. I hadn't run 4 days in a year let alone a week, since 11th grade! Fortunately for me I was only working 3 days a week at this time...so I only needed to run on one work day! I don't know how people who work full time train for marathons...or more!

I think the first run was supposed to be a mile or a mile and a half. Sounded so easy... especially compared to 26.2. The advice I was following (Hal Higdon's website) said not to be concerned with running the whole way, just getting the miles in. I ran for all of 2 minutes....and I was nearly hyperventilating...wtf?? I thought I was in ok shape, I mean I knew stairs winded me but that's climbing. I finished. Luckily that winter wasn't a harsh one. I don't think I ever had to run below 40 degrees.

I'm not going to lie...it sucked. That summer a neighbor saw me at party and made a comment about the way I was running and how it brought back memories of when he first started. He said I was all hunched over and looked miserable...so much for Dave telling me "No one is looking at you" whenever I would complain about how awful I must look. But he was right...I remember kind of drudging along at a snail's pace.

The more I ran, the less horrible it was...notice I don't say it was ever good....I had read about runner's high...where the fuck was mine? I started buying "real' runner's clothes, I got a GPS watch very early on so my distance would be more accurate and my course more flexible. I had been pre plotting my runs on Map My Mile a website for runners. The watch at least gave my OCD something to do. Now I could pay attention to pace. I had a goal...a huge no no for your first marathon. Your only goal should be to finish...fuck that...I was doing this once and I wasn't letting Oprah beat me! (Why Oprah? Because she was older and heavier! How embarrassing if she beat me! As if anyone else would know this! Will I ever stop caring what others think?)

I remember the first time I ran the whole planned distance, I didn't ever want to not run the whole way again. Again, no reason for this...Hal said it was ok but I am super competitive, even with myself. But then I was devastated on an 8 mile run, that for some stupid reason I ran at NOON on a hot and humid day...I had to walk and I came home, nearly ready to give up the whole stupid idea. Dave talked me down, agreeing that perhaps noon wasn't the best time to be running and that was why I had to walk, not because I was in over my head. I also had to consider I had already paid my race fee, my cousin had paid hers, was traveling from Chicago...I couldn't let her down.

Did I mention the summer of 2010 turned out to be one of the hottest on record for PA? Lucky me, right?  Well I am lucky because I have the greatest husband ever. On any run over 10 miles, he would meet me. He would have a spray bottle filled with cold water to spritz me, a replacement water bottle for my hydration belt (yes that's a thing!) and some sort of carb to keep me going (any run over an hour you need to "fuel" --- crazy things you had never considered when simply stating I'm going to run a marathon). Frozen grapes were my favorite....who knew? I was very fortunate that some of my longer runs fell on days that were overcast and with the perfect amount of rain...again, who knew running in the rain would be a good thing?

Other than that one run, I never second guessed my decision again. Not that that meant I was LIKING this. But I was obsessed now. I was doing this. PERIOD. Finally race day came and I did great...til about mile 16. I had eaten a Snickers (mini) that a spectator was handing out...breaking a cardinal rule...never eat something on race day that you didn't practice with during training. I blame the Snickers...it was also starting to get warmer...oh and it was mile 16! We were getting ready to head up a pretty long, but not terribly steep hill. I may have let that get to me mentally. I think we ran the whole thing but it wasn't long after that I walked through a water stop..I had been running while drinking until then...oh we did have a port a potty stop about mile 12...I don't think we walked too much. I do know I was tired of talking by mile 20. My cousin hadn't really trained but she was just jogging along like it was a piece of cake, she had told me a story about her sister doing some event with her and telling her she wanted to punch her in the face...I was starting to see why now.... Supposedly the hills were over....and I knew we had less than an hour to go...fucking crazy!I couldn't run 2 minutes 7 months ago and now I was all "only an hour to go"....the last 6 miles were brutal. The most your run in training is 20. This was the real deal now. I could feel the blisters on the ends of at least three toes. The crowd was saying it's all downhill from here, you're almost there....and then there was an overpass or a bridge or something but it went up....I just wanted to cry...THIS was not down hill...I had to walk again...and I was so mad and so disheartened, because I knew I was close...close to making my goal. But I HAD to walk up that itty bit slope....Then I saw Camden yards...not even realizing there was still about a mile to the actual finish line....running again, pretty fast...but where was the banner?? And boom there it was...and I began to cry...I forgot about looking for Dave or my sister in the crowd....I just ran!! I saw the clock...it had already hit 4 hours and 31 minutes...I just missed my goal...I was so relieved at being done, and wanted to be thrilled at what I had accomplished...but to be so close to my goal and not make it...I would have rather been off by 10 minutes....I got my medal, some food, some water and took my shoes off immediately....found my family...My cousin went off...I think back to the hotel....but then she texted me....my official time was in....4 hours 30 minutes and 29 seconds.....I forgot that your time doesn't start until you cross the start line and we were back pretty far....and it shouldn't have mattered so much...I mean  I ran a fucking marathon...only like 1% of the population can say that....but it did matter....and it made my day!

My knee had started to hurt a bit at some point. I hadn't really had too many problems during training. I had been able to google any symptoms, figure out the problem, do the cure and boom no real injuries. So I was a bit surprised. I had also decided I didn't want to stop running. I was now hooked...somewhere along the way I got my high. Only now I couldn't run. For 6 weeks, I couldn't run. I didn't want to get out of shape again..(who was this person??) so I started riding Dave's stationary bike until finally I could run again. It was deep into winter again...and I still hated the cold. So we bought a treadmill. I had decided I wanted to run a half marathon...and that's what I did next. Then onto a mud run and finally a 5k....I did things a bit ass backward. I did pretty well in the 5k's, they were small local ones, but I kept placing in my age group, which was really exciting! I still think my favorite distance was the half, and yet I haven't run another. The big thing is money. Racing is so damn expensive.

Marathon story over....the answer to why I exercise FINALLY!

So I got hooked from the marathon. The feeling good part was addictive....not just mentally feeling good or the accomplishment but physically I liked not being out of breath. I hadn't lost any weight from running and I wasn't trying to. But now I needed a new obsession. I wish I had taken measurements, because weight doesn't tell the whole picture, I know I lost inches off of my waist. I got a bunch of DVD's. I started with one of those big exercise balls, but quickly got bored. I moved on to Jillian and Bob DVD's. I was getting muscle. Like real muscles...I had always had these ridiculously skinny arms....during my immunization training my partner told me he had hit my bone with the needle(the receiver doesn't feel it only the giver, and it is so gross, I had it happen a couple times!)...because I had nothing there but skin and bones!

I did lose a few pounds but more importantly my belly got flatter. My arms looked nice. And I felt great. My core was hard as a rock. I was also eating better now. Cut back more on soda, for a while I had cut out all white flour...(Dave had always been trying to get me to eat his weird bread but I resisted--tastes like twigs)...but that single change made a huge difference...I lost 5 pounds! I gradually added some white flour back in, but still try to limit pasta and eat mostly wheat bread now.

I have come to realize those 5 pounds are what Jillian calls vanity pounds. I don't NEED to weigh 125. And it is a struggle to stay there. Even though I still hover near 130, I now wear between a 4 and 6...because there is muscle where the fat used to be. I am coming to terms with this as a good weight to maintain.

But why do I exercise??

I want to get old. But I don't just want to live to 100. I want to be Betty White or any other number of active 90 year olds. It is easier to be mobile at 90 , if I am mobile now. I don't want to go back to gasping for air at the top of a staircase. I love hiking. I love seeing really old people hiking, I can't do that if I allow myself to get fat. I watched my relatives have a hard time getting out of a chair ...in their fifties...that will not be me.

So no I don't exercise to be a size 2 or 4 or 6....I do it to stay mobile. It is easier to run 5 to 10 miles a week every week now, then to stop and then try to be active again at 60. And running isn't enough. The older we get the more quickly we lose muscle mass. The only way not to do that is to exercise...getting old is unavoidable...being old isn't. A nice perk to exercising and eating right (besides that whole living longer thing!) is being a size 6. But when the day comes that exercise and eating the way I do now isn't enough, as long as I can move, I will be ok with being any size....because I do eat FAIRLY healthy, but I haven't given up all the pleasures in life...that Oreo Cheesecake milkshake I had after the race last night? MMMMmmmm divine! And I know it was double the amount of calories I burned running....so what!

And another thing....the reason I post at all on facebook about exercising is to try to gently remind people that it is fun....I feel great. I want everyone to feel great. I have been doing this for 5 years now....and I honestly don't believe I could have survived this hormone bullshit if I hadn't been exercising. It is a fact that it raises serotonin levels....that it what antidepressants are designed to do. (side note: chocolate does too!!). I am not bragging about running x amount of miles a week...I am hoping someone somewhere is inspired to continue if they have started or start if they haven't. I know it works because I have a facebook friend who posts all of her workouts and it holds me accountable any time I start to falter.

I must admit that since Dave has joined me, first with the DVD"s (he was quite resistant but finally came around once we moved to CA) and now with running...I have never enjoyed it more. And when I don't want to do it, he nudges me and vice versa... We average 4 half hour DVD's a week, he tries to run twice a week (2 miles) and I try to run 3 or 4 times and get to 10 total miles(much rarer than it should be!). It is a small commitment with a huge pay off! I mean, really, how much TV can you watch? You can spare 30 minutes a day 5 times a week, right? I won't lie, it totally sucks at first...but eventually it becomes a habit...something you want to do, because you KNOW how good you feel because of it. Like Nike says...JUST DO IT! You won't be sorry.

UPDATE:

Not sure why I never posted this, I just saw that it was still in draft form.
We now do 3 half hour DVD's a week and run 2.1 miles twice a week. I keep saying I am going to throw in a 3rd day by myself but it doesn't happen too often (like maybe twice).
I had gained as much as 6 lbs and I have to be honest it pissed me off and freaked me out, it's easy to SAY it isn't about being a certain weight but to be doing everything pretty much the same and gain weight was disheartening. I had some pretty intense hormonal swings (and started working 5 days a week, so maybe less time sitting around helped?) and then boom the weight just fell off. I'd still like to lose a pound or two, but that's just that damn vanity weight and more about a number than anything else, so I won't spend too much time fretting about it.

It was fun to read my marathon recap but I still just don't have the desire to put that much effort and time into doing it again. I am so glad I did one, the confidence I gained still spills over into so many things I do. To be able to accomplish a goal like that it teaches you that anything is possible if you just take it one step at a time. I still say to myself "You ran 26 miles, you can do this" and just like in all of my long runs, I tell myself "just go "x" more then you can stop" and then when I get to "x" I say "now get to the new "x" point"...baby steps til whatever task is finally done, nothing seems impossible if you break into small enough chunks!

Can I count this as a 2016 blog?? I'm still trying to get my blog post count up for the year!! :)

Christmas and religion and money

When a customer is an asshole during the rest of the year, it seems a bit more acceptable. When they are an asshole during holiday shopping season, it's kind of ironic. First of all, you have to be an idiot to think you can shop this time of year and not wait in lines and secondly step back and think about what you are shopping for....I assume the whole gift exchange started because of the wise men giving Jesus gifts. So while you are out shopping to, supposedly, celebrate the birth of your savior, you act in a very unChristian like way and don't see the irony in that??

Of course that is supposing that Christian is defined as being loving, good, caring...you know all those nice things we like to consider Christians, but, in this day and age, perhaps we need to redefine what it means to be Christian. It seems to me the loudest, most outspoken Christians are anything but that. They cherry pick what they want from the Bible and ignore what seems to be the underlying messages.

My religious background would probably be considered weak by most. My dad was raised Catholic, my mom Lutheran. We barely, if ever (I have a horrible memory when if comes to my childhood), attended church. I recall one summer bible day camp like thing where I made a clay lion, don't recall any actual bible stuff being taught. I do feel like I knew a lot about the bible, so I guess my mom must have told me. I knew all the reasons for the seasons and all of the basic bible stories-the garden of eden, noah's ark, the chick who was turned to stone. I knew some quotes --judge not lest ye be judged, do unto others, etc.

In high school I dated a guy who was Presbyterian and I was kinda into going to church with him. That's when my eyes first started being opened to the hypocrisy that seems to go hand in hand with religious folks. His mom judged the shit out of me. I felt like a heathen, which pissed me off, because how is it MY fault I didn't attend church? As a kid I'd have to rely on my parents to get me to church, so why blame me? His parents were pretty active in the church, they sang in the choir and participated in other activities, like running Sunday school class. Their pastor was relatively new to their church and they judged him too. I thought he was great, he was fairly young and full of energy, but they didn't like change. They also fell asleep...a lot...during the services. I thought it was really rude. How naive am I? To think perhaps God might find it offensive to come to his house to worship, but instead sleep...all while judging those who don't go to church...but what did a heathen like me know?

In college I met my first practicing Catholic, my freshman roommate. Another eye opening experience. She lied on her dorm app about smoking, so I was stuck with a smoking roommate and I hated the smell of smoke. She was pledging a fraternity and I walked in on her fucking her "little brother" -she threw a pillow at me and told me to go sleep in the lounge..oh did I forget to mention she had a fiance back home? I also discovered a receipt for an abortion she had...I was learning fast about hypocrisy.

At pharmacy school I started dating a Catholic. At first I really liked the idea of the Catholic church. I liked that you weren't expected to dress up, I always thought it was lunacy that God would care WHAT you wore to church, but not whether you slept through the sermon. I also liked that their sermons were all planned out in the book that was kept in the pew (I'm sure there's a name for it, but I never learned it). My boyfriend was an altar boy and also did readings some Sundays, we also walked some neighborhoods collecting envelopes full of money. His father was murdered a few years before I met him and a priest had kind of attached himself to their family. I really tried to like the guy, but the creep vibe was so strong. He showered my boyfriend with expensive gifts, that I felt were inappropriate and I could never get over the feeling that something weird was going on between his mom and the priest too. I learned more about hypocrisy from them. She judged me just as hard as my first boyfriend's mom had. She didn't know her son was a cheating womanizer, who had fucked many girls and even gotten one pregnant (another Catholic girl getting an abortion--how's that abstinence education working for ya?). (don't get me wrong, I am pro choice, but the hypocrisy of how "good" these kids are because they were raised with a church background...ughh!). His mom taught elementary school in a public school in Philadelphia, it was mostly, if not all, black students. The conversations the priest, her and my boyfriend had were appalling--the one example I remember is referring to them as cockroaches. I was not as outspoken then as am I now and had really low self esteem, that's the only reason I can think of that I wouldn't have run from such a blatantly racist person. I justified it because of his dad's murder, it was black men who robbed and murdered his dad. I also thought I would rub off on him, make him see that the actions of a few weren't reflective of all black people.

So there's my background...oh and during college, I read the bible, almost every night I would read it. I nearly finished it (skipping some psalms, they started to get really repetitive) I made it to Revelations but never quite finished it. I don't know what prompted me to want to read it, I had read The Good Book in high school and wanted to read the real deal, again I don't know why. Searching for something, I suppose.

Fast forward to having a kid. I was ok with raising him Catholic, hoping to avoid raising a hypocritical one, I realize not all religious people are judgemental assholes, preaching one thing while practicing the opposite. I separated from his Dad when he was only one, upto that point we hadn't taken him to church, other than to baptize him. After the separation, his dad met a woman who is Greek Orthodox and that is the church they went to most often. At the appropriate age, he started CCD. He never really liked it but the last year was the worst, he ended up behaving so badly that my ex let him quit just weeks before he would have been done. This really pissed the priest off and probably to my ex's relief, pretty much ended that relationship. When I spoke with my son, his reasons seemed valid. He found the church to not be accepting and noticed the hypocrisy, even at his young age. His brother and sister were being raised Greek Orthodox and when they would attend the Catholic church weren't allowed to take communion, my son was upset that they were excluded.

My current husband is agnostic. He doesn't shout that from the rooftops and I don't think my son even knew. At 15 or 16, he started having conversations with me, trying to convince me that only naive, scared people believed in God. It was a crutch to make them feel better about death. I would argue with him, but he was a damn good debater. And I have to admit, he was starting to get to me. With all of my prior experience with those who consider themselves religious and with watching the news and the many stories of people discriminating in God's name, I started to question what I believed. I think he doesn't even consider himself agnostic, which bothers me a bit. At least my husband says "Give me proof and I will believe". My son is so confident that there is nothing to believe in. I still believe in something greater. But I don't define it anymore. I think the bible is a story, not much different than a greek myth. I believe there is something after death and I believe that the creator is a loving entity who will forgive those who don't believe. I believe he may even forgive those who do but don't practice what they preach. I'd like to believe that as long as you have a good heart that that matters more than what church you attend.

It's because of this I have a hard time even participating in Christmas anymore. Even the people who wholeheartedly participate don't do it for the right reasons. I think we have all been scammed by greedy corporations. They are the ones with everything to gain by commercializing the hell out of the holiday and everyone has fallen in line. People like to think that others are blinded along party lines, believing their candidate can do no wrong and meanwhile the corporations are blinding us all, democrats, republicans, 3rd party groups....we all fall in line to throw our money at things we don't need or want, to buy things for people, not caring if they want or need it...and we all end up with houses full of crap and maxed out credit cards while the corporations laugh and count their billions.

When you see someone being an asshole because they had to wait 10 minutes or 30 minutes in line to buy crap for someone who probably doesn't even want the crap or yelling at a sales person because we don't have any more of the crap left to sell...just think about God and what he thinks about how we are celebrating the birth of his son...or think about the creator who may not even have sent a son watching us act like animals, instead of just loving the lives we have and celebrating the friends and family we share it with...and then think about the 1%'ers laughing at how fucking stupid we are all, giving up Thanksgiving with our families so we can sell shit to people for a percent less than we would the following week, giving up our hard earned money to buy stuff we don't need or want, while they fly on their big ass planes to their big ass third homes to celebrate with shit they don't need, being assholes to the people who made it all possible for them to be 1%ers.

I know I sound bitter, I am not. It just saddens me to watch the hordes of people so completely brainwashed do this year after year, not ever questioning why they do it. Acting like I am the freak because I don't do it. If you step back and watch the madness, it can actually be kind of funny.


This year, with me working full time, I thought it would be nice to go back to exchanging presents with my hubby. The past few years we have been getting each other silly little things, not spending more than 50 bucks. I have been wracking my brain trying to think of something I want. But, the truth is, I have everything. Everything I need and everything I want. It's a simple realization that makes Christmas all the more enjoyable for me. To me Christmas is becoming another Thanksgiving, a time to realize how much I have and be thankful. It is nice to have a decorated tree to look at, so I will enjoy the holiday as a time to see beauty in lights and decorations. I hope you enjoy your Christmas in whatever way celebrating it makes it merry for you.....oh and cookies...Christmas will never be Christmas without cookies!! Merry Christmas everyone!!