Do Over

Well, Crap. I managed to get through a wedding and a beach trip with friends with willpower intact but then the stress shitstorm of moving, work, kids and a million other annoyances descended and all discipline went out the window. It took all my energy just to get through the days and meet the demands of  overwhelming obligations, chores and to-do lists. Bit by bit, diet and exercise considerations just faded into the background. As things got more hectic, I made more concessions to convenience at the expense of health.

After two months of living in this chaos, the scales are up a few pounds, my clothes are tight, my skin is a mess and I feel like crap. I have no energy, I am cranky and tense all the time, PMS is back with a vengeance and tension headaches are just a fact of daily life.

I feel like a character in a cartoon, with an angel and a devil on each of my shoulders. The angel is saying “Put on your big girl Spartan panties and get it together now. So you got off track. Just get back on it.” The devil is saying “Give it up, you are over 40, what are you thinking? You will never look like the chicks on the Spartan Race or Crossfit websites. Just be happy with where you are now and save yourself the stress of adding another major life change project when you are already juggling so much.”  It really would be so easy to just give up now and settle for where I am right now. 

BUT – the inner voice just won’t be quiet. It reminds me of how far I have come in the last year or so. I can do it. I have done it. I just have to do it again. Better. Other women are doing it, so can I.  

The kids will be back in school next week. I am pretty much unpacked and settled in at the new house. The insanely busy season at work will be coming to an end soon.

As things begin to settle down a bit, I can re-focus on making health a priority. I have purged all junk food from the house and stocked the fridge with meat and veggies. I dusted off the blender so that I can easily make smoothies if I am in a hurry. I organized my closet so that my workout clothes and Spartan Race T-shirts are the first thing I see in the morning. And most importantly, I gave myself the mental ass-kicking that I needed to get back on track and stay there.

I am actually looking forward to the diet part of the equation. There are several amazing farmers markets in my area with fresh, local produce. One of my goals is to move to more local food consumption and to get away from industrially produced foods as much as possible. I may not have much of a garden at my house this year, but I will grow what I can and try to find local sources for as many products as possible. I have seen the difference that diet makes in my mood, energy level and overall well-being. It is the most critical factor and I am ready to do what it takes to feel good again.

One slightly daunting aspect of this phase of my fitness journey is workouts. For the first time ever, I am completely on my own. No gym, no yoga classes. It is all up to me to do it using what I have at home. The good news is that I do have quite a bit at home to work with. I have mountains and trails. I have huge hills in my neighborhood. I have two kettlebells, a jump rope and a pull-up station. I have a PVC pipe filled with metal bars and sand – a cheap, homemade version of a weighted bar for doing presses and weighted squats. I have an old army duffel bag filled with Ziploc bags containing rubber mulch. Each bag is about five pounds, so I can adjust the weight and use it for carrying up or lifting over my head. I have a nice sloping driveway that is perfect for doing sprints – walk down and then run up a few times. I have this stuff, now I just have to put it to use.

I have signed up for two obstacle races in the fall – I am doing the Badass Dash again at the end of September and the Merrell Down and Dirty 10K in October. That gives me something to look forward to. My goal is to be ten pounds lighter by the Badass Dash and to be able to do a pullup by then. That is a pretty ambitious goal and I’ve got a lot of work ahead to get there.  So I will just knock this devil off of my shoulder and get to it. Again.

May Madness

What a month! OK, if I can keep it together this month and not unravel into a quivering heap of stress sitting on the couch eating cookie dough out of the tube, then I am pretty sure I can handle anything the future might bring. I had the Muck Run on the 11^th, then a birthday party, on top of three days of the kids’ theater production. And a big work project to tackle this month. Then a quick trip to Florida for a friend’s wedding the weekend of the 18^th. Then packing and preparing to move on the 31^st. Then the Mud Crusade on June 1.  Whew. I think I can do it. One day at a time. One item on the to-do list at a time. And boy, what a list it is. My newfound sense of discipline is an invaluable commodity during this craziness.

As I write this, I am sitting on the balcony of our condo overlooking the bay in Pensacola. Since it is the first bit of peace and quiet I’ve had in several weeks, it is a good time to catch up on my neglected blog. I am still thinking about my 30 day challenge and the lessons I learned during that time. I’m not too worried about backsliding into unhealthy habits during this little hedonistic excursion. I packed plenty of healthy snacks and protein powder, so I can avoid some pitfalls of road trips. Breakfast today was a Larabar and some protein powder in my coffee. I have carrots and almonds and protein bars in my bag for beach time later. If I am going to indulge, it will be something worth it, like pina coladas later. And only one or two, not five like I would usually do.

I have also discovered the most effective weight loss tool ever – bathing suit shopping. Good Lord, what an exercise in self loathing that was. Up until then, I was feeling pretty good about my body .The size 8s were fitting nicely, I was looking OK in a tank top and I thought I was ready for summer. Boy was I wrong. I have to applaud the bathing suit designers, I don’t know how they do it. I don’t know how they can transform a handful of innocuous fabric into a fat-flesh microscope that shows me every flaw, bulge and patch of cellulite on my body. And I have to give some credit to the dressing room mirrors and lighting that ensure no dimple or pudge has a place to hide.  If I had even thought about blowing my diet on the beach trip, that experience made sure it was no longer a consideration. All I have to do when tempted is to recall how the straps and ties somehow managed to squeeze the pale, doughy fat out of places that I didn’t know existed.  It was a discouraging experience, but I just have to keep my chin up, keep working and try harder. I guess I’m not quite to the bikini promised land just yet. Sigh.

Hooked on Paleo Worked For Me!

I’ve often wondered why modern Americans have such a love-hate relationship with food. Instead of viewing it for what it is – fuel for our bodies – it has become almost personified as a force for good or evil in our lives and how we relate to it says more about our emotional state than our bodies’ need for nutrition. We look to food for comfort, reward, happiness, etc. We make our food choices more often out of a concern for convenience than for health.

My own history with food is similar to many people my age. As a kid, breakfast consisted of some sugary cereal with a cheerful cartoon character on the box. Lunch was whatever processed slop the school was doling out that week. If I did pack my lunch, it consisted of a peanut butter sandwich, fruit roll-up and a Little Debbie snack cake for dessert. No wonder I grew up carb-addicted. I was raised by a frazzled single mother, so fast food was a staple. Eventually, we moved in with my grandparents. They kept a garden in the back yard and made almost everything from scratch. Simple, Midwestern farmhouse suppers like stews and casseroles became routine, but fast food was still a reliable weekend treat. The food at home was much healthier, but my Grandparents’ insistence on clean plates at the table was not. They had both been raised during the Great Depression and had known what it was like to be hungry. Waste was not tolerated. To this day, I feel a twinge of guilt if I leave any food on my plate. What would all those starving kids in China think?

As a teenager, I got a job at the mall and became more food-independent. I also unleashed my inner party girl. During high school, my four food groups were basically alcohol, mall pizza, chocolate and caffeine pills. I was skinny but far from healthy. I was working too much, partying too much and with the invincibility of youth, I never really thought about my health. I was burning the candle at both ends. I was pale and tired all the time. My grades suffered but I didn’t care. I lived in the moment and never once stopped to think about what I was doing to my body.

By the time I entered college, I was burned out, mentally and physically. My studies gave me a focus and a sense of discipline. I cared about my courses and I wanted to do well. I stopped partying and got serious about life. I was working multiple jobs to put myself through school, so that didn’t leave time for much else. This hectic schedule brought convenience eating to a whole new level for me. By this time I had a serious boyfriend, so I kind of let myself go. I wasn’t on the market anymore, so no need to keep the man-trap shined up. We settled into a comfortable routine of work, studying and bad eating. After we moved in together, dinners were all-American crap classics – Hamburger Helper, Chef Boyardee Ravioli, Kraft Mac n Cheese and our weekly rotation of all the local fast food joints.

It was during my college years that I decided to become a vegetarian. I thought I was making a healthy lifestyle decision, but I was still eating a lot of processed crap and carbs. I was still pale and tired all the time. I still depended on caffeine to survive my demanding schedule. Cutting meat out of my diet didn’t actually make me feel better, but the sense of moral superiority seemed to make up for it. At least for a little while.

I eventually ended my vegetarian experiment after gaining quite a bit of weight, but the carb addiction was stronger than ever. I did slim down a bit for my wedding at 26 and walked down the aisle at about 15 pounds above my skinny high school weight. Not too bad. As we started our life together, the hubby and I decided to eat healthier. So, we bought the whole-grain bread, rice and pasta. We traded regular dairy products and condiments for the fat-free versions.

For exercise, I would take my dog for long walks in the park. I joined a ladies’ fitness center. After work, I would go to the gym and walk on the treadmill for an hour while reading a magazine. Then I would go home and make a healthy whole-grain pasta dinner with fat-free cheese and have a diet coke. That was healthy eating, right? Conventional wisdom told me that whole grains were good, your body needed carbs for energy. Fat was bad, it clogged your arteries and led to high cholesterol and heart attacks. Sugar was bad, so the latest artificial sweetener was the miracle answer that would let me enjoy my junk food guilt-free. During this time, Snackwell cookies made their appearance on the grocery store shelves. We would finish a whole box in one sitting. But it was ok because they were low-fat. Even though I was eating the way all the magazines and TV doctors were advising, my weight was creeping up and I was tired all the time.  I still depended on caffeine to get through the day.

When the kids came along, I was determined to establish good eating habits in our household. I made sure they had lots of fresh fruits and veggies and we did not keep sweets or sodas in the house. We would go out for a treat like ice cream once in a while. Our ‘healthy’ diet included things like yogurt, cheese sticks, whole wheat bread and pasta and bagels. It also included a lot of kid convenience foods like chicken nuggets, mac and cheese, pasta in a can, toaster waffles and various other processed but easy crap.

When the kids started school, I began to pursue my interest in herbal medicine. I started taking some classes locally then gradually expanded into more comprehensive programs. I also had a health scare that made me re-examine every aspect of my life and my health. I didn’t like what I found. I was determined to make changes and I discovered the clean eating movement. Well, basically, I read the Clean Eating magazine. We greatly reduced but did not completely eliminate the processed food from our diets. We still ate out about once a week. The occasional treats were a little more frequent. We did incorporate more fresh fruits and veggies, but the whole-wheat products remained a staple in our diets. We were still buying into the notion that the whole grains were good for us, so it was not surprising that the changes we made did not result in big progress on the scales or in our overall health.

I first learned about the Paleo diet around 2010 or 2011. It seemed a bit drastic and crazy to me. At that point, I was still more focused on replacing processed foods with real foods and the thought of giving up grains and dairy seemed impossible. My herbal studies had given me a new perspective about holistic health and what was really good for my body. I wanted to get back to a more natural way of eating. I just wasn’t ready to give up bread and cheese. Besides, what about everything that I had ever read about nutrition? Grains were good, fat was bad. Now I was hearing that grains might be bad and fat might be good. It took a while to wrap my head around that possibility.

Still somewhat skeptical, I read The Paleo Solution by Robb Wolf and started inching my way into the Paleo lifestyle. I did not go completely grain-free, but I made an effort to be gluten-free. I cut out sugar and replaced it with Stevia, a natural sweetener. I cut back my dairy consumption by about 75%. I had never been a milk drinker, but yogurt and cheese were longtime favorites. I made them occasional treats. I used almond milk or coconut milk in my coffee and smoothies. I planned meals around meat and veggies. Snacks were fruit, raw veggies or nuts.  I did my best to end my addiction to Coke Zero. That has been the hardest thing to give up, and I still break down and have one once in a while. Yes, I am fully aware of how horrible the artificial sweeteners are and how much damage they do to my body. I’m working on it.

After making these changes, I began to notice a huge difference in how I felt. I had energy. I was sleeping better. No more headaches. No more mood swings. No more afternoon slump. No more brain fog. I could function better, think more clearly and began to have a more positive outlook overall. The pounds starting coming off. With more energy, I could exercise more. That made me feel even better.

It has taken a while to get on board with this new lifestyle. I have been at around 60% - 90% Paleo over the last year or so. When I have a rough week and get overwhelmed trying to juggle work, kids, housework, etc., it is easy to slip back into the old patterns of convenience. When I am exhausted after a long day, it is still easy to pick up something quick and crappy to eat. Sometimes I am just too stressed out or tired to care. But I know that when I eat better, I feel better, so I am determined to keep at it until it becomes habit.  Realistically, I don’t think that I can sustain a lifestyle that is 100%  Paleo, but I think that a consistent 90% is achievable.With a little discipline and planning, it can be done. The results are well worth the effort.

30 Day Challenge Progress

Week 1 – April 8. The first week has been fairly easy. My motivation is high and resolve is strong. As far as food goes, it is more a matter of convenience than cravings. It was a chaotic week with a lot of time away from home, so it was a pain in the butt to plan out my meals or make sure I had healthy snacks readily available. Day 4 I was very tired just felt drained. Maybe my body was adjusting to the carb deprivation. Maybe it was the 35 degrees and rainy, gray day. My only real temptation was when I took the kids to Bojangles to use a gift card. The berry biscuits drizzled in frosting were hard to resist because I knew how good they were. I just had my coffee and let the kids enjoy their treat. The kids were on spring break this week and my gym has no day care, so I did not get to the gym. I did make sure to take long walks of about 2 miles every day. I only got one weights workout in this week. My excuse – the weekend weather was beautiful so I decided to go for a long hike at Tallulah Gorge instead. The hundreds of stairs going up and down the gorge were more challenging than doing squats anyway. I still feel a little bit guilty and will make up for it by doing 3 days of weights next week. While reading one of my favorite health websites,  Mark’s Daily Apple, I found an amazing article about Health Integrity: http://www.marksdailyapple.com/why-health-integrity-matters-or-the-power-of-being-honest-with-yourself/#axzz2PSJWsZ6N

  He summed up exactly what I want to accomplish with this challenge.

Week 2 – April 15. OK, halfway through. A strange thing is happening – I don’t even think about junk food any more. Healthy eating is becoming a habit. Yes, it is still an inconvenience to wash and chop raw veggies for a snack instead of grabbing a bowl of Cheerios, but I am getting better about being prepared and having healthy food on hand. I make sure that I have lots of fruits and veggies and nuts available for meals or snacks. In a pinch, I just grab my shaker cup and mix up a quick shake with protein powder and water. The lesson this week is mindfulness. I have become painfully aware of how little thoughtless actions can add up in a day or week and have an impact on my weight. Things like snacking while cooking or taking a bite of the kids’ food to test the temperature can really add on extra calories. Watching my diet carefully has brought attention to the little habits that I hardly even noticed before. The only thing that was hard this week was when I took the girls out for ice cream on Friday and couldn’t have any with them. That has been our Friday tradition since they started kindergarten and I did feel like I was missing out on something. The scales have been all over the place this week – up, down, up, down. And I don’t even care. In the past, when the scales would smack me in the face with the cold truth, I would beat myself up over every little cheat and treat that I had indulged in. The guilt and self-loathing would set in and I would feel horrible. Not this time. I know I have done everything right. My diet and exercise have been consistent. I feel great. The skinny jeans are fitting nicely, with room to spare.  My energy levels are high, I  no longer have the afternoon slump and I have been able to drastically reduce my caffeine consumption. That alone is a miraculous achievement and one that I will celebrate. The other thing that I have become mindful of is that I need to cut back on my weekend drinking if I really want to make the maximum progress. When I started this challenge, I didn’t plan on cutting out alcohol, I decided that I would just choose healthier drinks – no more pitchers of beer or Jack’n’Cokes. I still allowed myself some light ciders, red wine or paleo margaritas. Well, when I really paid attention this week, I realized that one day I consumed five ciders and another night I had three margaritas. Not good. 120 calories for each cider doesn’t seem like much, but indulging in five of them added 600 calories to my day. There is no way I would have eaten an extra 600 calories worth of food, but it was so easy to drink them away throughout the day. From now on, I will limit myself to 1-2 drinks once or twice a week.  I am also going to track my calories through an app on my phone. I’ve never been disciplined enough to be a calorie-counter, but it’s worth a try.  Three weeks until my next mud run and one month until I am on the beach. No time to waste!

 

Week 3 – April 22. Ok, this is getting tedious. What a pain in the ass this is becoming. Calculating and recording every single thing I consume is not much fun. Maybe I am just feeling grumpy and overwhelmed by work, kids and the upcoming move and it feels like this is just one more annoying chore to keep up with when my time and energy are already stretched so thin. Annoyance aside, it has been a week of interesting revelations. After a few days of using the calorie counting app My Fitness Pal, I realized that I was not consuming enough calories to make up for my workouts. I adjusted my intake to meet what the app recommended and finally broke through the plateau on the scales. That was very rewarding, so I guess it is worth the effort. I have also seen a couple of other amazing health developments. For the first time in years, I had no PMS this month. I actually went all month without really wanting to smack somebody.  My sprained hand has shown more improvement in the last three weeks than in the previous three months, so the anti-inflammatory benefits of this diet are proving themselves in a tangible way. I am having some pretty intense cravings for good dark chocolate and I hate not being able to have ice cream with my girls on Friday. Other than that, I don’t really miss anything and I feel great. Exercise is starting to become a habit, although I have to accept that if I am devoting the time to diet and exercise, other things are going to suffer. That is just part of the balancing act. I guess I can deal with the dog hair on the floor, mountain of laundry and huge stack of papers and receipts to be filed. Maybe someday I will discover the magical secret to getting it all done. I do have a lot more energy lately, but still not enough to finish the never-ending to-do list. One more week to go.


May 1st - 

So, my 30 day challenge ended and I came to an important realization – that my life is so chaotic and out of control that I will probably need a new 30 day challenge every month for the rest of my life. Taking the time to focus on changing one thing at a time, 30 days at a time is a great concept. The first 30 day challenge was great. 30 days was a doable amount of time. When I was tempted to give up, I just kept telling myself “It’s only 30 days. I can do it” And I did. I made health my priority for an entire month. I worked out regularly and paid close attention to my diet. I guess the most important lessons I learned from this experiment were discipline and mindfulness. I had to stop and think about things. I had to plan – I had to think ahead to make sure I had what I needed to succeed. I had to think about and plan my grocery list. I had to schedule  my days more carefully so that I made time for workouts. One day a week, the kids had an after-school program at the community center, so I would leave an hour early and do interval runs on the little track around the soccer field. I had to make a schedule and stick to it. Yeah, I had to do all the things I should have been doing for a long time. Oh well, better late than never I guess. It is kind of hard to measure the results of the challenge. The scales fluctuated quite a bit, so I guess I lost about five pounds. And I quit using the scales as a measurement of success or failure. I am getting stronger, my clothes are fitting better and I feel amazing. So to heck with the scales. I’ll still check in with them once in a while, but they will no loger be the focus of my health journey. The intangible benefits of discipline and mindfulness were the real prize from this experience. I am hooked on the idea of a 30 day challenge, but what to tackle next? Maybe getting more organized,  filing papers and receipts as they come in rather than letting them pile up, being a better friend, keeping in touch with those I don’t see regularly, remembering birthdays, not procrastinating, reading the books that are piled up on my bookshelf beside the bed, getting back into making my herbal medicines, being a more patient mom, being a better driver. It seems the list of my faults and flaws is quite extensive.  Well, that gives me a lot to work on. My 30 day challenge for May will be to just survive the month, then in June I will re-evaluate and see which of my issues will be the next to tackle.

 

ON ON by KD

In January of last year, I was four months into my glorious 40’s.  I had been run/walking for a few years with little improvement in my pace or weight loss.  I was quite frankly, getting bored. It was around this time that I noticed my girlfriend and neighbor, Ari, was looking pretty damn foxy these days! It was clear she was doing something that was working in her favor as she was toned, sporting an athletic build, and looked really happy. I watched for weeks as she came outside each Friday evening and Saturday afternoons with a large bag in hand, dressed in shorts or running tights with long knee socks, a long sleeved t-shirt, and muddied shoes. I wondered where on earth she was going.  Did she know she looked a little like a psycho nature nut about to embark on some kind of birding adventure; or hike through the back bush of Georgia swamp land? The latter was dead on.

I finally got around to asking Ari what was up.  That was the first time I heard the word “hash”. Okay not really the FIRST time, but this is not that kind of hash. Ari was doing hash runs with local chapters of the Hash House Harriers, an International non-competitive running group.

"At a hash, one or more members ("hares") lay a trail, which is then followed by the remainder of the group (the "pack" or "hounds"). Members often describe their group as "a drinking club with a running problem," indicating that the social element of an event is as important, if not more so, than any athleticism involved. Beer remains an integral part of a hash.  Though the balance between running and drinking differs between chapters, some groups place more focus on socializing while others focus more on running.” Quoted from Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.

Ari, being very gracious, invited me to join her on the next hash run. She gave a vague description of how the runs are usually between 4-6 miles.  She also told me to be aware that the trails can go from street, to brush, to woods, to streams and then come to an end with a meeting of sorts; orange food? BEER!? I know she emphasized a few times in there about how she invited other friends in the past and how no one really ever liked it and that it’s dirty and you get scratched.  She said to wear long pants and maybe a long shirt and shoes you don’t care about….blah blah blah… I will be running with a friend and we will have beer at the end; whatever! Sign me up! I’m in like Flynn!! Oh, and the first run is FREE (most runs are 7 dollars to cover beer and food) and I am considered a VIRGIN! Who can pass this opportunity up? I mean really? So I packed a large bag with dry clothes, bags for wet clothes and muddy sneakers, first aid paraphernalia (I am after all a Virgo), water bottles, snacks, towels, money and my health insurance card. I busted out my long wool ski socks and dressed in layers, ready to take on whatever came my way.

My first hash was on an overcast and drizzly Saturday afternoon. It started at a local bar in Tucker, GA on Industrial Blvd. The area was littered with office complexes and warehouses.  It seemed an oddly bizarre area to pick for group run. There were several cars and trucks in the lot, and guys with dogs.  Everyone was loading their bags into one car and grabbing a bottle of water to go. I was introduced to the owner of the bag car, Ballerina Booty Boy.

Hash runners are given a Hash name after their 5^thrun. I met several people but I only knew them by their hash name.  I must tell you that most all of the hash names I encountered were quite dirty. Ballerina Booty Boy was one of the few names that could actually be said out loud in front of children. Most were sexual in nature, politically incorrect, or just plain offensive. But this all makes it so much more interesting and fun!

BBB welcomed me as a virgin and gave me a run down on hash markings.  “Look for the flour “checks “.  They will let you know you are on trail”.  He also gave a clue that the end of the run would be near a blue water tower. Ballerina Boy would be driving our bags to the end point. There was a name for this job as well, but it escapes me.

I believe this particular run was scouted out a week before by the two “hares”.  Today they would be running ahead and marking the trail for the “hounds” to follow. The hares set off.  We followed along shortly after with about 15 other people. It looked like mass chaos!  People were running behind buildings, down hills, through hedges and under fences. Someone was yelling "Are you??" while someone else was yelling back "Checking". Are you what?? Checking what?!?! Then we heard “ON ON” and everyone was off.

Next thing I knew I was scaling down a hill of muck, up another hill, shimmying under a fence, and running along another fence on a thin trail through a field of sticker bushes. At that point I got the high socks and long sleeves because I was getting snagged every few feet. Ari had brought along her Carrion Terrier, Loki.  The poor little guy had to be carried because he was risking losing an eye. This went on for quite a bit until we came to a clearing and found the next flour mark or “check” which had us running through the industrial park, across the boulevard , behind more buildings and climbing down into a creek. The creek had pieces of toilet paper strewn here and there across various branches letting the hounds know they were indeed on trail.

 Things got interesting very fast.  We were scaling the wall of a drain pipe under Route 78 that had a pretty deep drop off at the end, forcing you to climb and balance on a downed tree limb and shuffle your way across and back to drier ground.  After an uphill scramble through brush we came to a road but lost the trail. We ran up and down, searching for the elusive flour check, but to no avail. I was running with Ari and her sister-in-law, who was also a virgin.  It was at this point we met up with Star Whore and her virgin buddy who were also looking for check marks or an arrow marking the trail. We tried heading back down into the creek on the opposite side of the road but found nothing.  It was comforting when an elderly gentleman warned us not to go into the brush again because it was littered with snakes. Great!! We headed back up to the road and into the housing projects where we found the trail arrow we were desperately seeking.  The holy grail of hash!  The flour check!  We were back on trail, heading through the ghetto back to the safety of creek beds and water drains.

At some point during this time I thought to myself, what the f*@% am I doing?? I am an overweight and out of shape forty year old woman running through the ghettos, mud/creek/brush/thorns or “shiggy” as it is termed in land of Hash, all for beer? Am I freaking high or just plain Looney???  What I do know is that I am having a blast! This is anything but boring!  With the climbing, balancing, pulling myself up along creek beds and walls, running, walking and even crawling, I am blasting calories and having one hell of an adventure to talk about later.

We came to a marking called an Eagle.  This meant we could choose to take the easy way to the “on in” or end, or take the longer and more challenging trail. We chose to take the longer route. Why? Because we were having fun! We were also overzealous Virgins with delusions of grandeur; it ended up being close to 6 miles. We went through streams that were so covered in briar bushes that you had to crouch and crawl to avoid your face from being marred.  This was some deep shiggy!  I decided to take a moment for pictures.  While standing in this muck a muck, I slipped and came crashing down on my ass.  Sweeeet! I felt that for a few days after.

We continued on for what seems like eons, crossing a football field, walking through a cemetery, and searching unsuccessfully for a beer stop. Yes, you read that right. Most hashes have beer checks midway through the run. Remember the motto!

We were eventually found by some of the earlier hounds who came back out from the end to make sure we found our way in. It was now pouring rain, but we had made it!  And we were not dead last! I conquered my first hash and still had all my limbs intact! I owe Ari and Star Whore mega thanks for staying with the virgins because we would have never have found our way back, not in a million years!

The end was in the industrial park, near the blue water tower, under the overhang of an office building. Was this legal? Aren’t we on private property? No one seemed to notice or care. Dry clothes were found and shimmied into and beers were now in hand.  Good beer too!  No bud light for this gang. THANK GOD! “Life is too short to drink cheap beer” is the Pine Lake motto. You know I appreciate this, as I refuse to drink Bud or Coors light and my reason is I am not high maintenance, I just don’t drink piss beer. We began to form a circle. BBB poured some beers into several glasses. I soon found out they were to be used in a ritual of sorts, to be drank down by various members of the days hash for things like FRB “Front running bastard”, being a virgin, having a cell phone on trail and using GPS (apparently a major NO NO), wearing a race running shirt (an offense they seem happy to make fun of), having ones balls hanging too low, just kidding, but I wouldn’t be surprised!  Basically, any offense on trail they can think of to make you stand in the middle of the circle while they sing songs about necrophilia  “My name is Jack (nah-na-nah-na-nah-na-nah), I’m a necrophiliac (nah-na-nah-na-nah-na-nah)”, songs for the hares “Hooray for the hares, hooray at last, hooray for the hares, they're a horses ass!” All the songs ended with everyone singing “Drink it down down down down “while the offender’s chugged all the beer in their mugs. If you leave any beer in the mug, you must pour it over your head.  Then the ceremony ends. Cheetos are shared (orange food!), as well as chips, cookies and the like.  Everyone drinks up and then heads for home until the next hash commences in some other unsuspecting neighborhood of East Atlanta. On many occasions there is an “on-after”.  This is where runners relocate to a nearby pub for grub and more beer of course!

Speaking of songs, my favorite down down ditty was penned by a Pine Lake hasher. One Saturday afternoon hash we had run through Panola State Park and inadvertently run onto the private property of Georgia’s finest redneck family. We were corralled by the sons and dad on ATV’s. One of the sons was dressed in full camo/bush costume.  He looked like a faceless Sasquatch Shrubbery.  All were carrying rifles. Papa Redneck didn’t want us trespassing through his little piece of Deliverance for fear of one of us falling, injuring our self and then suing him for all of his worldly possessions. At least that is the BS story he gave us. They kindly escorted us to their property line.  Sasquatch was sure to make his rounds on the four-wheeler to ensure we did not accidently veer off the clearly marked state park trail again. The ditty went a little something like this “This land is my land. This lands not your land. I have a shot gun. And you ain’t got one. Drink it down down down down”. Good times! The end of that particular hash was actually quite a gorgeous locale on the side of a stream.  I had to cross in waist deep water while holding my beagle to keep her from whisking downstream to reach the on in. I ruined my cell phone that day. Whoopsie! Note to self; do not bring cell phone on the hash, or if I do keep in dry bag.

Unfortunately my time with the hashers was short lived as my dear girl Ari fell in love with a Navy man and moved to Florida.  I do miss Ari and I miss the hash too. I give credit to my brief fling with hashers for my new found love of the mud/obstacle run and my introduction to muck, mud, “shiggy” and the thrill of the unknown.  And for the record, I did earn my Hash name; Ram –a Ho-Poken.  That’s another story…

 

Beyond Badass - The 30 Day Challenge

Yesterday was a great day. The sun was shining, the first hints of Spring were in the air and I got my spark back. I found it at the Badass Dash, a 7K obstacle race held at Stone Mountain Park. Maybe it was the beautiful weather. Maybe it was the fun obstacles. Maybe I was just ready.

The course and obstacles for the Badass Dash were posted online, so we had a chance to check them out ahead of time. This race looked fun, more like the Warrior Dash or the Down and Dirty. I was not nervous at all, just looking forward to spending a day outside in the woods. There was no mud pit at this one, which was nice. I love mud as much as the next gal, but it was good to finish a race and have an easy cleanup afterwards. No freezing hose torture here. And no burpees if I couldn’t complete an obstacle.

In the Badass Dash, I finally felt the exhilaration that had eluded me during the Spartan Race a few weeks ago. I was climbing over stacks of pallets, dashing over picnic tables, crawling under nets and walls and running free in the woods. For the first time ever, I tackled the super-high wall.  I climbed up and over a 10-12 foot wall without hesitation. When I got to the top, I looked down and got dizzy for a second, then I took a deep breath, swung my leg over and made my way back down.

I faced another high obstacle with a rope net, this time it was climbing up and over a semi trailer. I didn’t think twice about doing it. I was confident and fearless as I approached the net. I could even look down as I made my way to the top. I was feeling so great that I  managed some flirty banter with the cougar bait who was assisting at the top of the obstacle.

The sense of accomplishment was back. I ran more and walked less than any other race, I was able to climb over high things without being sick with fear and I completed every obstacle on the course. Some of them were challenging, but I did them.

We finished in 1:29, not too bad. This was my sixth obstacle race. I have never been too concerned about my finishing time. It was fun to compare the times from one race to another and see how I was progressing, but I am not really a competitive person and I usually felt great about my performance if I completed the course. I guess at this point I do not really consider myself an athlete, just a middle aged chick with an unusual hobby.

 

This time was different. I felt a twinge of something that I suspect might be a little competitive streak creeping into my psyche. I was happy that I was making such good progress. I was running more, my race times were improving and I was completing every obstacle on the course. But deep down, I knew I could do better. I could push myself harder.

I had made great strides over the past year, but I had to admit to myself that my approach to health and fitness was still often half-assed and inconsistent. I have good weeks and bad weeks. Sometimes working out is a priority. Sometimes other obligations are. Some weeks my diet is perfect. Other times it isn’t.  I still lack discipline. I always have, but it never really bothered me until now. Doing these races and pushing myself out of my comfort zone has made me aware that I can do better. I can be better. I am no longer satisfied with the mediocrity which I have accepted until now. From now on, it will not be enough to just cross the finish line.

In fact, it will not be enough to just work out once in a while, to just run a couple times a week, to just eat right when it is convenient, to just make health and fitness a priority when I am not  focused on work stuff, house stuff or kid stuff.  

Sure, I have made some progress. I am getting in shape. I have lost some weight. That should be good enough. Nope. Good enough is not good enough anymore. Something in me changed on that course. After that race, I was ready to set the bar higher for myself. I just needed a plan.

I decided to give myself a 30 day challenge. To be the best I could be, to do the best I could do when it came to my health. No more slacking off. For one month I will make diet and exercise my number one priority. I will clean up my diet and be 100% paleo. No grains. No sugar. No dairy. Just fruits and veggies, meat, eggs and nuts. And protein smoothies.  Not just most of the time – all of the time. For one month.

I will challenge myself to get some form of exercise six days a week. At least two days a week will include strength training, either lifting weights at the gym or doing squats and pushups at home. Three days a week will be for cardio – running, using the rowing machine at the gym or hiking up mountains in my area. Now that the weather is warming up, there is no reason why I can’t take advantage of the beautiful parks and hiking trails around me. After all, that is one of the main reasons I moved to the mountains. Spending more time in nature will be good for the body and soul.

April is the perfect time to embark upon a challenge like this. After all, Spring is the time for renewal. I am determined to have a new focus, to embrace the strength and peace of mind that comes with discipline and to continue the sense of accomplishment I felt after the Badass Dash. Sure, I still have a hectic life and many other obligations. But I can make excuses or I can make changes.

I am not looking at this month as a time of punishment and deprivation. That is how I have always viewed diets in the past.  That is why I have always failed in my previous attempts to lose weight.  I know that I will be giving my body what it needs to function optimally. I know that I will feel better, have more energy and release the sense of guilt that hangs over me when I am not doing as well as I could. I want to see how much progress I can make in 30 days – on the scales and beyond.

Spartan Race 2013 Recap - Jess vs. Tower of Death

Call me crazy, but I did it again. I knew what was in store for me and I signed up for another Spartan Race anyway. I was lighter and stronger and had been making great progress at the gym for the last couple of months, so I had high hopes for an easier time this year. Of course, I also had an injury that was definitely going to affect my performance. I had sprained my left hand in December, and it was not fully healed yet. So, in keeping with my personal tradition, I went into another Spartan adventure with an injury. I was ready. I had been diligently practicing my burpees.

We were not as fortunate with the weather this time. The weekend before the race, we had had snow flurries and highs in the 30s. It had warmed up a bit, but the day was overcast and just under 60 degrees. I knew the mud pit and anything involving water was going to be cold. To me, that was more daunting than any of the obstacles. I hate being cold. That’s why I live in Georgia.

Once again, we had to park a mile away and enjoy a nice warmup walk to the venue.  For some reason, I was just as nervous this year. Maybe because I knew what I was in for. Maybe I was worried about aggravating my sprained hand. Maybe I remembered how bad I felt for days after the last one.

 

As we approached the race site, I could not believe my eyes. A huge and terrifying obstacle came into sight and it took all the courage I could muster not to turn around and run back through the parking lot, hop in the car and drive home to safety and my warm sofa.  My nemesis the shipping containers with the rope net was back. And worse. Now, there were two stacks of shipping containers. There was a net to go up, a net to go across – in between them – and a net to go down. Shit. Those suckers were high. In a particularly sadistic twist, to enter the venue, we had to walk through this Tower of  Death, under the net, in full view of the racers scrambling across over our heads. What the hell was I thinking, doing this again?

We had planned for traffic and parking this year, so we had plenty of time to get checked in and stretch out before our 2:30 start time. I was anxious and my mouth was dry, but I tried not to drink too much water since none of the port-o-potties had any toilet paper.

I could see a few obstacles in the distance – familiar sights like the rope climb, slippery wall, mud pit, vertical wall and spear toss. I was already calculating the number of burpees I would be doing that day, probably around 180. Since I could not grip with my left hand, anything with a rope was out, as were the super high walls and the monkey bars. My goal for the day was to just do the best I could and try to finish under two hours – that would be about 30 minutes less than our time from last year.

 

While in the starting line, I was waiting for the spark, the excitement, the anticipation. Nope. Not there yet. We took off and once again, the first obstacle was climbing over some barricades with a big mud puddle on the other side. Not too bad. What was bad was the guy blasting us with a fire hose as we did it. Great, starting out cold and wet. I was hoping that running for a bit would help me warm up. No such luck. Next was crawling under some nets then climbing over the four foot walls. Easy. Then a very long run through the woods and a walk through the creek. I took comfort in the fact that the cold water meant there probably weren’t any snakes to worry about.

Then came the five foot walls, some to go under, some to go over. We actually got over them on our own this time. Yay for us!

Next was a new obstacle, a series of pegs sticking up about three feet above the ground. The goal was to maintain your balance while walking from peg to peg. Not too bad – until a guy came running through in a tight speedo. I think all the ladies were thrown off by that, but we made it across. No burpees yet.

Then, it was time to face my arch enemy – the Tower of Death. I hesitated for just a second before charging forward. Getting to the top was much the same as last time. Deep Breaths. One step at a time. Don’t look down. However, unlike last time, the net was bigger and there was a stampeding herd of boisterous young guys clambering up all around me. The net was swaying violently back and forth and it took all my strength to keep a firm grip on the ropes. I made it to the top somehow. Then I realized I would have to go across a net to the other side. I could see the people beneath me. I could see how far down it was. As I pulled myself up onto the top, I took a moment to analyze the various strategies that other racers were using to get across the net. The young guys were dashing across upright. F***  that. Some of the more cautious people were crawling. Some were rolling. Hell no. I knew that the only way I was getting across that thing was if I could somehow do it without looking down. So, I ended up doing sort of a sideways-crab-walk. Slide one leg over, then the butt, then the other leg. Eyes straight ahead to the horizon. Not looking down. Not even for a second.  Both hands with a firm grip on the ropes at all times. I was vaguely aware of the people walking beneath us, but did my best not to acknowledge that I was that high up. Just keep scooting.

 

 

In my preoccupation with not plummeting to my death, I failed to notice the camera placed at the top of the obstacle and as a result, there are now some rather undignified crotch shots of me crab-walking sideways across the net. Thanks a lot, Spartan folks. Those moments were a real joy to relive on video.

More stampeding guys made the descent as terrifying as possible. By the time I reached solid ground, my legs were trembling. Kris took off running and it took me a minute to catch up to her. I did not feel triumphant at that moment, more like just glad to be alive.

Then the vertical wall. Again, I lasted for two steps. 30 burpees. A short tire flip, no problem. Then an obstacle that looked like fun. Big muddy hills to climb up, then slide down the other side into a pool of muddy water. It only looked fun because I didn’t yet realize how cold that water was. Sliding down a muddy hill, there was no way to stop yourself until you were up to your chin in the water. In the freezing water. The nighttime lows had been in the 30s, so that water was horrendous. We had to do that about 3 or 4 times. When I emerged from the final pool, I was basically a walking mudsicle.

We were about at mile 2 by now, and I still wasn’t really into it. Perhaps I was waiting for the thrill of excitement I had experienced during my first Spartan Race. I don’t think I really got my racing spark until about mile 3, and even then it was subdued. Most of the obstacles were the same as last year, and I was pleasantly surprised to find that they were much easier the second time around. Maybe I really was making some progress. The concrete block on the chain was manageable this time, as was the bucket of concrete on a rope. The swamp wasn’t as deep this year, so it was barely up to our knees. And I had no open wounds to worry about.

They wussed out on the sandbags this year. There were pancake-shaped cloth bags instead of the real things from last year. This time, they had different bags for men and women. The real sandbags last year had weighed about 40 pounds. I don’t know how much the little girly pancakes weighed, but it couldn’t have been more than 15 -20 pounds at the most. The trek uphill was not nearly as daunting as it had been the year before. It was like walking up a grassy hill with a pillow on my back. I did not have the same feeling of accomplishment after that one.

 

 

The one area in which I did have a sense of achievement was in running. To be honest, I don’t really like running that much and don’t consider myself a runner by any means. But I do it. I run on the treadmill at the gym and do run-walk intervals on the trails around my house. The course was between 4 ½ and 5 miles and we were able to actually run a good bit of it, much better than the year before. So, it was rewarding to see that my cardio had dramatically improved over the last year.

Kris kicked butt on the monkey bars and made it all the way across – you go girl! I did my burpees and moved on. More burpees at the high walls and rope climb. And the spear toss. And the slippery wall. Good thing I had practiced them.

Finally, the mud pit. The mud was drier, harder and not as squishy and mucky this year. That made it a lot harder to crawl through. It was also full of rocks, which dug into my knees and elbows when I tried to army crawl like before. After gashing my knee on a sharp rock, I abandoned that approach and invented my own move. I started out in child’s pose (like in yoga) and slowly slid sideways, ducking my head and shoulders under the barbed wire as I went. It was not the most ladylike approach, but then again, neither was crawling through a mud pit in the first place, and at least I tried to stay aware of my position so that I wasn’t sticking my muddy ass in some poor guy’s face.  

It seemed like the barbed wire was lower in the second half of the mud pit, so it was back to my belly, inch by inch. My shirt was crusted with mud, which made it heavy and pulled it downwards as I crawled over the muddy ground. Luckily, as I reached the end, I noticed that I was about to pop out of my top, so I had time to tuck the girls back in before standing up.

 

Two guys with big padded sticks blocked the way to the finish line. I guess they were supposed to be gladiators, but they didn’t really look very warrior-like. They seemed bored and only gave me a half-hearted whack to the midsection as I ran by. Then it was done. We finished in 1:52, meeting the goal of under two hours and beating our previous time by almost 40 minutes. Not Spartan elites by any means, but a big improvement over the year before.

 

I was less euphoric this time, mostly just cold and tired.

I was mentally preparing myself for the freezing hose torture to clean off the mud, but what I was not prepared for was that they had now attached high-pressure nozzles to all of the hoses. Not only was I adding insult to injury by blasting my already freezing body with ice water, but now I also got the sheer pleasure of pressure-washing my boobs. Nice. Thanks a lot. And pressure washing the gash in my knee and the scrapes on my elbows felt great too. Even the big, tough guys were squealing like little girls while blasting their skin with the frigid water. I did a quick rinse to get the biggest clumps out, then stopped while I still had some flesh left intact.

Luckily, I had come prepared this time. I brought some warm clothes, a big bottle of water, a wash cloth and some baby wipes. I went into the port-o-potty and stripped down. I used the tepid bottled water and washcloth to get the rest of the mud, then the baby wipes for the remaining grime. I dried off, put on my warm clean clothes and slip-on shoes and I was once again a happy camper.  My skin felt great after the mud bath and pressure washing.

I don’t know what I really expected from this race. I guess I wanted to feel the exhilaration of the first time. It didn’t happen. I was glad that I had done it, and it felt good that the obstacles were easier and that I could run a lot more of the course, but the thrill of the first time could not be recaptured. 

The aftermath of the Spartan Race was not as harsh the second time around. My arms, back and shoulders were a bit sore, but not miserably so. The arms and legs took quite a beating and were covered with welts, scrapes and bruises, but those too were not as bad as the year before. The gash on the knee healed pretty quickly.

I don’t know if I will do the Spartan Race again. There are so many new and different obstacle races and mud runs in my area that I think I want to give those a shot. The Spartan Race has also gotten ridiculously expensive. Yes, I know that the price is cheaper if you sign up earlier. That is great for people who do not have to work around jobs and kids’ schedules. I hardly know what I’m making for dinner the day before, there is no way I can pay for a race six months in advance. It was a gamble for me to sign up a month ahead of time. So, let’s see…. $95 registration fee, $14 mandatory participant insurance fee, $10 processing fee, $10 for parking, and $5 to check my bag during the race. Nearly $135 and they couldn’t even provide freaking toilet paper in the port-o-potties?  I can sign up for two or three other races for that price.  Sorry, Spartan Race, what we had was beautiful, but I think it’s time for me to move on.