Of Courage and Other Things

I just heard this quote from Mary Anne Radmacher,

"Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says I'll try again tomorrow."

Okay, “heard” is a bit of an exaggeration; I read it on someone’s Facebook status. I don’t even know who Mary Anne Radmacher is, but I like this quote. A lot. In my ever present pursuit of fitness, I’ve always thought of working out as working toward an end result. A race. A triathlon. A certain pant size. A big moment. Crossing that finish line, pumping your fist, weeping copiously. The “Roar.” In the past, fitness has always been about the Big Event for me. I’d complete the Big Event then stop what I was doing. Hey, I met and/or exceeded my goal. If that happens at work, I get a raise. Well, when I completed my Big Events and then gave up training, I got a raise too – my pant size. Somehow though, in the past several months, I’ve come to realize that true fitness isn’t about the big reveal.

It’s about dragging your rump out of the warm, soft, cozy bed in the morning when no one is watching, or clapping, or cheering you on and lacing up your running shoes and pounding out a few miles.

It’s about hauling a workout bag along with your briefcase, lunch bag, and whatever other bag you carry (why do I have so many bags?) on the train to fit in a lunchtime or after-work jog on the treadmill.

It’s about having only one glass of wine the night before your longer run early on Saturday morning and being okay with that. Or just doing it at all early on a Saturday morning. For me, that’s a feat in and of itself.

It’s about not giving up because you missed a day of working out, or pigging out because you “slipped” on your diet.

It’s about not comparing yourself to the abilities of others but aspiring to being a better version of yourself.

It’s about cussing like a sailor in your head (and sometimes out loud) the whole time you are running, but still doing it anyway.

Me with Marg and Rita.

Hey, it only took me 20 years to get here. Better late than never, right? Listen, I’ve completed a half marathon. I’ve completed two triathlons. I’ve completed numerous 5Ks. All of those are great accomplishments and I’m damn proud of them, but I’ve come to realize that they aren’t the point. From now on, I’m going to give myself a mental medal when I get my ass out of bed in the morning to run. I’m going to chant my own name as I swim laps. I’m going pump my fist after a long bike ride. Those are the true accomplishments. Doing it when you have a million other things going on, or people have expectations of you to do what they want, or you’re tired and you just don’t feel like it. In other words, having the courage to put yourself, instead of everyone and everything else, first.

Oh, it doesn’t always work. I’ve missed workout days. I’ve eaten some Dairy Queen. Okay, a lot of Dairy Queen. I’ve picked The Real Housewives of Insert City Name Here over a jog. I’ve made dates with a margarita rather than my running partner. But the difference now is that every time I don’t meet my expectations for my pursuit of fitness, I try again the next day. It’s easy sitting on the couch. It’s easy (and wonderful) to sleep in. It’s easy going through a drive thru. But like Tom Hanks said in A League of Their Own, “It’s supposed to be hard…the hard is what makes it great.”

Out of the Mouths of Babes

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I love kids. I don’t have them, but I love them. And I want my own. My future children are the main reason I am on this quest for fitness. I am a healthy person aside from the weight. I have no cholesterol or blood pressure issues, no diabetes, no aches and pains other than occasional workout soreness. I don’t get sick often other than the occasional allergy attack and I want it to stay that way. And I want to get pregnant and have a healthy pregnancy, so aside from fitting into those Calvin Klein jeans that are hanging in my closet that are just able to slide (ahem, get tugged) over my knees at this point, my whole purpose for this pursuit of fitness is not only to be able to have kids, but for them to only know me as their mom who runs, and does the occasional triathlon. Their mom who bikes and swims and can (and wants to) run and play and keep up with their spastic little selves. Not their overweight mom who is trying so darn hard to lose weight and fit in the occasional workout. I want to be The Fit Mom by the time they are able to understand the difference. Which, in my experience with all of the kids I know (and I know a lot of them), is that they understand the difference pretty darn quickly.

One of the things I love about kids is their brutal honesty. And it can be b-r-u-t-a-l for sure, but not because they’re brats (at least for most of them). It’s because they don’t know any other way to be than honest.  It can be so eye-opening to see yourself through untarnished-by-social-mores-and-fear-of-saying-the-wrong-thing eyes. Understand this - I have a terrible self body image. Oh, I’m not one of those girls who fits into size 2 jeans and complains that her butt looks fat. Not that kind of terrible self body image. I have a worst kind. The kind that thinks that I still have the body of a 16 year old high school pom pon girl, not of a 37 year old obese woman. In my head, I look great. And thin. And not at all old. Then I see a photo of myself and am shocked. Shocked! Every. Single. Time. Am I mental or what? So the other day when I was sitting with one of my favorite (and innocently, brutally, honest) seven year olds and a very large woman walked by and she nonchalantly said to me, “That looks like you,” I was shocked. Yet again. Yes, mental, indeed.

I’ve come to realize that this is the reason that I’ve been fluctuating so badly with my weight over the last several months. Up one week, down the next. Up again, down again. I’m working out regularly and still doing Weight Watchers. But I have one good week, then start slacking on the eating and food tracking the next. Then I gain the weight back and buckle back down. What is the definition of insanity? Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results, right? So while the seven year old’s observation stung and I was tempted to retort with, “Yeah, well, I’m rubber and you’re glue and whatever you say bounces off of me and sticks to you,” with my nose crinkled and my foot stomping, I remembered that I am not seven, nor am I 16. I’m on a journey and I need to stick to it. Because this journey ain’t gonna end folks. It’s going to be for the rest of my life. Even when I hit my “goal” weight, whatever that is, and am strutting around in those Calvin’s. And for the sake of my future wee ones, I need to stick to it. Think of the children (she says with dramatic inflection). But seriously, I need to remember that woman/mirror image of me who walked by and remember that I want my own brutally honest kid telling me something that I’d rather not, but need to, hear.

Pea Soup and Other Conundrums

When I stopped running after the Indianapolis Half Marathon in 2004, I would occasionally make semi-feeble attempts to start running again. But, if the weather wasn't perfect and I wasn't completely in the mood or if it was a day that ended in “y”, I'd have an excuse to not have to do it. Mostly it had to do with the weather. Especially cold weather, or hot weather, or too-breezy weather, or not-breezy-enough weather. You get my drift. So when I got up last Saturday morning to do the Eagles Run in North Aurora, IL and it was drizzling rain and felt like the inside of a sauna, I was a little more than shocked that I actually went out and did it. And I wasn’t last! Not that I really care all that much if I am last or not, but not being last means I’m progressing slightly. My time was a little better than my last 5K, by a minute. For super fast runners, shaving a minute off of their time is a huge feat. For 16-minute mile runners like yours truly, shaving a minute off is the equivalent taking off your sweater when you weigh yourself to save that couple of ounces it weighs. However, I am improving and that’s a darn good thing.


This race was great for several reasons (other than I wasn’t last and I was a minute faster). One of my best friends stayed the night and did the 10K race while I did the 5K. She lives two hours from me and we’ve been besties since we were 11 years old so getting to spend any time with her at all, even if it’s her lapping me to finish the 10K before I’m done with my 5K, is more precious than gold. By the way, when she was lapping me, she slowed down so she could finish with me and I, literally, pushed her to keep going and finish on her own terms, not mine. I love her for wanting to encourage me, but I’d rather be chasing her than feeling guilty for slowing her down. I know she doesn’t see it that way, but I admire her so much that I wanted her to be her best, too!


The run was through the campus of Mooseheart which is a community and school for children and teens in need. It is a beautiful and slightly enigmatic place that I’ve lived down the street from for over four years and never been in to see. You can see photos of the run here. It was lovely and peaceful and would have been perfect had I not felt like I was running through lukewarm pea soup. I’ve never sweated so much in my entire life. I looked like a drowned rat and my inappropriate cotton running clothes didn’t help.

Me, in my inappropriate running attire, with my bestie!

This leads me to my latest conundrum. Finding suitable running clothes. Right now I look like a homeless person most of the time when I’m out running. A sweaty, red-faced homeless person. But let me tell you, finding affordable running clothes that fit more than my left thigh is difficult. There are some great sites online for plus sized workout clothing (I hate the term plus sized by the way. There are no plusses to buying big girl clothes, trust me) but I hate buying clothes that I can’t try on and they are expensive! Really expensive. And retail stores apparently don’t think big girls want to work out in appropriate attire. So, I'm on a quest. I am doing some online shopping to find good, affordable clothes that actually fit properly and also seeing what I can find in retail stores. We’ll see what I come up with. I’m not even asking for them to be cute, God forbid. I just don’t want someone handing me change while I’m out running. Or maybe that’d be a good way to save up to buy the new running clothes. Hmmm…