It's not about the Run.... wait, no. It is.

Let me just start by saying that Marie Kondo is a little batsh*t crazy.  Which is okay in my book, because I like crazy.  I picked this book up at Barnes and Noble one day when I was feeling lonely and probably PMSing, and was amused that someone *actually* could write a book about tidying up.

I was intrigued.  So I brought the book home and did what anyone would do- put it in a pile of "stuff to do later" in an obscure catch-all corner in my house.

One day a couple months ago, I picked it up and thumbed through it.  I immediately got the gist of Marie Kondo magic, but was more interested in the psychological aspect of tidying up than the physical one.  I always believe that books will come to you when you need them the most, sort of like "when the student is ready, the teacher appears" kind of thing.

I have been feeling, for a while now- that even though I've moved and the landscape has changed drastically- that I'm holding on desperately to some old ghosts.  That sometimes, I don't feel like I moved on, I feel like I ran away.  And either way, some things followed me.

That small voice that has never steered me wrong has been nudging me for a while now to clean out the cobwebs- emotionally, physically, mentally.  Lately, I started making the connection- what if that feeling that I'm stuck in mud and not progressing in running has more to do with some emotional baggage I'm carrying around than it does the ten pounds I've gained since we moved?

And what should I do about that?  Because, for all intents and purposes, the run has always been the therapy.

SO, I speed-read the book, decided that this weekend I would begin the process of letting go of anything and everything that doesn't serve me, isn't meaningful and isn't necessary.

SO, this.

After I took step one and cleaned my closet out of every shred of everything that was in there, I wanted to just move and leave it all behind.  If there is a better metaphor for taking stock of your state of being mentally, I don't know what it is.  And I don't know why I so mistakenly thought this process would take two hours.  It took TWO DAYS.

Marie tells you to keep or toss based on joy.  I'm not really good at following rules, so I made up my own. For something to stay, it had to be an item I felt comfortable in.  It had to be useful.  Some things went because I evaluated a memory associated with that item and realized I wanted to let it go. Some things, like my old prom dress- which was the ONE thing I tried on during this task- held a great memory but really no longer has any tangible value.

 

The fact that I fit into the junior's size 7 was enough of a win that I don't need to hold on to that thing forever.

Most things were an easy decision.  Some items, though- man.  No wonder we're a mess.  The mental fixation we have on things, and moreover the reasons we keep things around- they don't make any sense.  My goal here was to bring sense to chaos, to begin to organize my life- not exactly in the Steve-Jobs-All-I-Wear-Is-Jeans-And-A-Black-Shirt kind of craziness, but more like, I-should-totally-develop-the-habit-of-being-more-organized-so-I-can-at-least-find-my-shoes so that I can develop a better routine.

I took breaks about once an hour or so and looked for other corners of my universe to organize and apply my rules to.  I rearranged my furniture, organized my laundry room (while doing laundry, which, if you know me, isn't normal!), and really just started taking stock of all the things around me and deciding that if things don't have a home in my home, they should belong to someone else.

Somewhat adhering to the Kondization method of doing things, I got rid of about 20 books.  That was harder for me, because I love my books.

In the end, I ended up with this:


I don't know that I've ever, in my life, "mindfully" cleaned.  Usually, cleaning is done as a last ditch effort with a time crunch when someone's coming over or I just can't stand it anymore, or I'm mad about something and the mad maid shows up.  Cleaning- tidying up- has always been a necessary thing to do, a chore- something I do not want to do and feel forced into- not a task I take upon myself in order to help me grow and to prune my life.  It is very true that the way we are living on the outside is a manifestation of what's going on on the inside.  I think it's imperative that we get the two things aligned, and now more than ever I am willing to do the work to clean EVERYTHING up... and get rid of all the junk in my trunk for good.

Today was pretty cool.  I know it's a process.  I know I have more running clothes than anyone probably needs, even after letting go of a lot...

I feel very accomplished.  Now it's time for a bubble bath and a glass of wine, and in the morning- a good run.  The book I'm reading now:

I love Brendon Burchard.  Check him out.

On Just Doing It

I've been doing what I do, professionally, for sixteen years.

I've not been all that great at keeping score throughout those years.

Over and over again, regardless of the company or the management or the pep talk- there is always something to be said about keeping score.  Sports teams do it.  Education systems do it.  The entertainment industry does it.  The best in my industry do it, faithfully.

There's always someone keeping score- and furthermore- keeping statistics.  How many yards? How many words? How many people watch and listen and buy?

When you think about it, all of the things we love the most are carefully weighed and measured.

But for whatever reason, some people in some industries, namely sales- some people have a hard time keeping score.  I have a hard time keeping score, and this translated into my new Macro IIFYM way of eating.

It's natural, when the score is good, to want to write it down and show it to someone.  It's also natural, when the score is bad, to rationalize all the reasons it's dumb and pointless to keep score and hide from the people who might be looking, especially when you're in a position that makes you doubt that anyone is really looking.

If the last four weeks have taught me anything, it taught me that I wished much, much earlier in my life, I valued keeping score even when the score was hateful.  That if anything, I'd learned earlier the motivation that comes from really, truly caring about the score.

This macro thing- this part of the journey- I won't say I'm obsessive about it but I will say that meaningfully keeping score for four weeks, good, bad or ugly, has created an unintended habit of awareness.

I am now fully aware that there's more protein in cow's milk than almond milk and that you can get high quality lactose-free, fat-free milk that tastes great.  I'm aware that if I get close to 50 grams of protein first thing in the morning, I'm not hungry all day long- but I'm aware I need to stoke the fire so I focus on getting another 30 grams within two or three hours after my first meal.  If I do this, then naturally I find that my last two full meals of the day provide the balance I need of macros almost naturally.  I find that paying attention more makes me crave things that aren't beneficial less. Keeping score has made it so I don't ransack my kitchen at 9:30 PM looking for 65 grams of fat-free protein, which literally amounts to eating a tub of fat-free cottage cheese and downing a protein shake.  Not really the best move for a good night's sleep.

I've always known that keeping score is vital to progress and success, and anytime I have focused on keeping score, I've improved my results.  I also know that I stop keeping score when failure is looming.  When, for whatever reason, the score isn't going to favor me.  Maybe it's a fear of facing the things I'm not doing, or a die-hard willingness to be lazy instead of productive, or an all-out serious denial of the truth.

Because the truth is that we can always do more.

I used to make fun of press conferences that are held after major sporting events.  Like, why do you think you lost this game?  Clearly, the answer is always that you didn't do something as well as the other team did.

Now, I think I understand the question a little bit more.  It's not just that the losing team lost, it's about what went wrong.  And if we don't pay attention to what what wrong, we can't make it right.  And we have no chance of even knowing what's going wrong if we don't keep score, or if the score is a fabrication made up to appease someone who may or may not be paying attention, rather than for our own assessment.

I wish I had understood this earlier, and that I had become a raging fan of self-statistic-keeping earlier.   In all things- I understand now, more than ever, that every little thing counts- not just the score.  The practice that came before the game.  The hours of good sleep logged, the steps taken, the time spent just trying to be better.  The moments spent in silence, reading or in prayer or just being. Every rep, every mile, every drop of sweat. The moments of joy, the moments spent ugly-crying... they all matter, and they all become part of the score.

Confessions of a Recovering Mindless Grazer

Don't lie.

You know you've been there.

You're doing something around the house, perhaps taking a load of laundry from a bedroom to the laundry room.  Maybe picking up the random things your teenagers leave lying around the house- shoes, water bottles, empty Lunchables...  and the next thing you know, you're standing in front of an open refrigerator looking for something to eat.

In my case, I'm not even hungry.  I'm not really bored, and I'm not stressed.  And these days, I generally go for something "healthy"- greek yogurt or an apple.  I think there's just some weird disconnect in my brain that may or may not be related to a primitive need to survive- if food is available, I feel compelled to consume it. Grazing is making IIFYM that much more difficult on me.

I'm the girl that will snag a french fry or three from her daughters plate.  I will take a handful of Cheerios the kids left out before I shut the box and stash it back in the pantry all while yelling at no one in particular to put the cereal back where it belongs.  Then I will stand in the pantry and stare, like if I just hang out long enough a genie with a bag of Oreos will show up.  When he doesn't, I notice a near-empty bag of black bean chips.  Doesn't seem prudent to keep it, and would be wasteful to toss it, so I might as well eat the three chips and handful of crumbs at the bottom before throwing the bag away.

I don't keep much junk food in the house, and over the years I have progressed from Girl-Scout-Cookie-binge-eating diet-coke junkie into a mindful grazing animal, but a grazer nonetheless.

Which makes keeping score that much more difficult.  On a scale of 1 to Root Canal, keeping score for me is like major dental work.  The past month, I have gotten good at understanding what I need and why I need it in terms of nutrition, and I've even gotten good at not hating myself while I'm eating an extra plate of food specifically designed to reach my macro goals that may or may not include strange amounts of fat-free cottage cheese and sweet potatoes.  I've even gotten really good at staying accountable and adding those fries-here and cheerios-there into my log.

What I am not good at is planning.

I am really over plugging all of my triumphs and transgressions into MyFitnessPal only to find that I am way over on fat grams and no where near my protein goal.  Even if the fat was "all good".

So what is a girl to do?

Well, last night I stayed up into the wee hours of the morning reading articles about runners and running and people who cheat to get into Boston.  I read a piece from my old hometown local newspaper where two teachers I knew, both older than me, made it in to Boston this year.  And I had this thought.

I've been progressing toward my goal.  I have been doing the right things, I have been getting serious about training.  I would even say that I have been quite committed.

But I haven't been relentless.  And I haven't planned like someone who really wants it.

I know what I need to do and that I need to map out a plan and stick to it.  I need to map out my macros BEFORE the day I'm in, so that I have a plan.  So that I can get closer to them early instead of trying desperately to catch up on them at 9PM.  I need to make the effort to find the hills that, now that I have become familiar with my new surroundings, I know exist.  I need to go to bed earlier.  I need to drink less wine and drink WAY more water.  I need to preempt the mindless grazing by having measured and counted snacks available when my brain and stomach wage war over my goals.

I preach and teach all day long to people who are new in my industry that planning, preparation and keeping score are the foundations to their success.  It's time to practice what I preach.

When Commitment Takes a Vacation

Last week was Spring Break for us, and we decided to go visit my parents in Reston, Virginia which is right outside of Washington D.C.  I was pretty excited because, having grown up a military brat, I've been all around the world- I've seen Rome and Germany and Greece, castles and relics and really old art.... but I've been to very few historically meaningful U.S. locations.

So, if you're keeping track, I also committed to going all-out hard-core balls-to-the-wall for the goal of qualifying just a mere three weeks ago.  You may be wondering (or not) how my vacation affected my commitment.

We left on Friday night, meeting up with my sister in law from NM in Dallas.  We were catching an early morning flight on Saturday, me and her and the kids.  The hubs didn't get as much time off, so he would be flying out to join us on Wednesday.

We ate at PF Changs on Friday night and I managed to hit my macros.  I ordered based on what I needed and and ate what I calculated I should in MFP (My FitnessPal henceforth and forevermore).  I thought, MacrosShmacros, I can keep this up for a week!!

Hah.

Every day of vacation started with good intentions to keep up with MFP.  But by Wednesday, I gave up on keeping track altogether.  I mean, how are you supposed to report homemade pop-tarts at Ted's, Braised Beef at District Commons with carrot grits and kale (but you tried your son's duck and your hubby's steak and you had a few bites of the amazing pretzel bread and hot mustard butter and then you did top that off with a homemade vanilla bean ice cream float made with Coney Island Hard Root Beer).  I mean, some things just can't be weighed and measured.  Then there was the Chicago style Supreme Pizza at Pi... I still made better choices than I every used to while on vacation, I didn't feel compelled to eat just for the sake of eating and I enjoyed al of the meals my family shared without stuffing myself. I genuinely enjoyed them.  It was a good balance.

I think sometimes progress doesn't feel like progress.  Sometimes, I think, you have to go back further in that personal history book and realize that some of your successes are a positive but subtle change in habit.  I can't think of a vacation taken recently where I kept up with early morning workouts- this is a huge change for me.  On the days I woke up early to work out, I had much more energy and felt far less exhausted by the end of our touring than I did on days I skipped.  In the past, being on vacation meant I didn't need to keep up the workout routine at all- I was always happy to skip it.  So the fact that I didn't- progress.

I also used to come home from vacation feeling like my panda friend here-  with a food and drink hangover and usually a few extra pounds.  I didn't lose any weight last week, but I didn't gain any either, so I call that a win.

As far as the vacation- WOW.  We walked and walked and rode the metro and walked some more.  I logged, including my workouts,  a total of 60.33 miles for the week.

My favorite things were the Pentagon 9/11 Memorial, Arlington Cemetery and Smithsonian Art Museum.

I like to do things I've never done before when I take a vacation.  In the past this has included jumping off buildings and running long distances.  This time, I opted for some pampering and tried a blow-out.  This was fun, relaxing, interesting... but I don't understand how people keep the results for a week.  Even with dry shampoo.  Hair gets dirty.

This was a great experience for my family and was an excellent opportunity for me to prove to myself that I can live the life I've envisioned with physical and nutrition goals that make sense, are attainable, and don't make me give up living, or feeling like I failed because I went on vacation.  Here's to balance in all things.

Don't Believe Everything You Think

It's been about a week and a half I've been on this quest.  This week was a lot like breaking in a new pair of shoes, literally and figuratively.  I have the blisters to prove it.

The past ten days have been a new uncomfortable for me.  I'm eating more than I usually eat, I'm holding myself accountable to process, and I'm trying to fit my goals into my life, rather than to let my goals take over my life.  That said, my feet hurt, my arms hurt, I've logged great mileage this week in spite of traveling and weather and wine.  But I have a smile on my face, because I'm learning.  I'm learning that some of the things I thought about myself and my ability to accomplish this goal are completely wrong.

Back in High School, I wanted to participate in a sport not because I was good at anything, but because I was bored.  In fact, I was not good at ANY sport, really.  I joined the Cross Country team my Freshman year at Naples American High School, and I hated every minute of it.  One of the reasons I hated it was because in my mind, not even I could be that bad at running, but I was.

It's just running, right?   I had convinced a friend of mine to join the team with me and from about the second week of practice it was clear that she was WAY better at it than me.  I huffed and puffed through workouts, did a lot of walking, did even more whining (sorry, coaches, wherever you are) and really never got into it.  Half way through the season I was having asthma attacks which were brought on by the sulfur in the air in and around Naples.  I was pretty grateful that I had a really good excuse to bail out.

The next semester, though I found myself signing up for track.  I was far more committed to getting to travel all of Italy on the co-ed track team than I was actually excelling at anything.  I tried long-jump, shotput and discus.  Shotput turned out to be my 'best' sport, once I got my body to learn the throwing form.  As a team member, I was mediocre at best.  I was in to have fun, anyway.  My second season of track my sophomore year, my season was also cut short thanks to a run in with Mononucleosis.

Fast forward a million years.  I have never wanted to be better at something than I want to be at running right now.  And this week I pondered on the thought that all these years I've built these images in my mind of what "success" at the sport of running looks like.

Since reading Born to Run several years ago, this has been it.  Dean Karnazes.  I'm pretty sure no one disagrees with me- that lean body, brow furrowed in concentration, perfect stride- this is what running well looks like.

And when I created my goal, I had it in my head that unless I continued to move forward into achieving a lean physique, I could never run fast.

Well, that's bullshit.

Mostly.

Obviously I have to move toward a body more capable of running faster to achieve a 3:40.  More importantly, though, I need to exercise my mind into being capable of running a 3:40.

There are plenty of people who can run a Boston time in their age and gender groups and they don't look like Dean.  Are they lean?  Probably.  But are they perfect?  I bet not.

I have to change my perception of what I believe a body type is capable of, and following this gal has helped me-

There are stereotypes in all things, and if you visit Jessamyn's page or follow her instagram account, you will be challenged to think differently about what you think you know.  The armstand she's doing here is an advanced pose, yet she looks as effortless, balanced and beautiful as her stereotypical yogi counterparts who are sporting 17% body fat and chiseled physiques.

When 'they' say that the only limits we have are the limits we create in our minds, 'they' are 100% correct.

I am beginning to challenge the mindset that I will have to create the perfect running body in order to run my goal---  My body will do it. My body has already proved to me it is capable of more than I ever would have dreamed possible back in my high school days and my limited exposure to endurance training.  I don't have respiratory problems anymore.  I run faster than I did in high school, and I actually love it this time.

My body will catch up to my goal. It's the mind that needs the makeover.

We will, we will... stalk you...

Let's face it.  If comparison is the thief of joy then social media is Bernie Madoff.

Don't worry, this is not about the Kardashians.

You know those people that act like they don't care what anyone thinks about them, they are going to live their truth, blah blah blah?  Those people are full of crap, especially if they have a Facebook, Instagram or Twitter account.

I'd like to think that I don't look to social media for validation, but on some level I guess that's what anyone who posts anything is looking for.  Having an online life is only one side of the coin... I think more important question is, whose online lives are we looking at?

And what does that do to us?

A couple of days ago I was perusing my Instagram feed when I crossed paths with this fitness model in Australia who had had TWINS (who were also children #3 and #4) and was posting pictures of herself in a bikini WITHOUT STRETCHMARKS and nary any evidence that she'd just brought two human beings into this world who were plus or minus five pounds a piece.  She had her six pack and thigh gap back like three days postpartum.  I really wanted to hate her, I did, but I'm not an inherently hateful person.  But I found myself subconsciously listing things about her that made me feel better about myself.

Like, haha, she won't get good sleep for like the next five years.

And, she can probably afford to rub caviar all over her stomach every day to ward off those stretch marks.  I mean, I would've done that too, but I didn't know caviar worked back then.

And, I guess if your paycheck revolves around your looks, you have to make pregnancy look that awesome too.

So I wasn't trying to be a hater, but some peoples' reality is so far removed from my own that there's just no way to make a real connection.  And that, I think, is the real sadness of social media comparison.

But here's another one.  I actually "follow" her....

This woman is a superhero.  I mean seriously.  Look at her bio.  Then look closely how fast she runs.  I totally stalk her.  She's another one who had a baby and seemingly didn't take a day off or miss a workout.  Based on her posts she is trying to qualify for Boston too and I dig that. So when I need motivation, I go look at her feed and think, I don't have five kids.  I don't have a chronic disease.  If she can do this, so can I.  I am truly inspired by people, women in particular, who post this kind of unreal realness.   Her life, I can get a little closer to.

Then there's my yoga girlcrush.  

This woman makes bendy an artform.  I am not as concerned with nor do I ever desire to be an accomplished yogi, but the affirmations in her posts and her encouraging enlightenment make me want to continue practicing yoga.  Boston is one thing.  Handstands are totally another.

I think all the hate and negativity that is associated with what social media is can be completely undone when we realize and accept that what motivates us, motivates us.  And we shouldn't be ashamed of that, nor should we shy away from it, nor should we begrudge someone their perfectly sculpted abs and superawesome lighting if it fires us up and some how makes us want to be better too.

I also just read this story and while I was reading, I equally hated this woman for being older than me, faster than me, and more dedicated to a crazy goal than me while loving her for having the balls to do it in the first place.  When I read her "why", I thought, See.  I get that.  I get her why.  I get wanting accomplishment.  And I was inspired.

I often wonder if stalking people for the specific purpose of fueling your own inner fire is some strange form of self-bullying.  But then I remember some of the things I've learned about stoking that fire, and I think, stalk on.

Tim Grover's book Relentless is one of my all time favorite reads, especially when I'm feeling mediocre.  He talks a lot in this book about what motivates ultra-driven people- CLEANERS, as he labels them.  They clean up after everyone else.  They come in, they get the job done, they do what they have to do at all costs, and they are relentless.

If you're going to pursue some sort of greatness, you have to learn to be relentless.  Maybe that means getting up earlier, working later, dedicating yourself to your cause regardless of who's out there loving and hating you. Either way, don't be ashamed to stalk those who inspire you. Let what motivates you, motivate you.

Food is your Friend... Food is Fuel...

Me and food, we don't get along so well.

Well, some days we get along WAY too well.

This isn't the whole "let's talk about disordered eating" post.

Nor is it the "I'm going to share everything I eat with you" post.

Yesterday was the beginning of my quest, and one of the first things I am working on getting right in my brain is that my coach issued a Macro daily goal based on my activity, and I ain't gonna lie.  The amount of calories I'll be consuming if I am hitting these macros will be a good 500 to 600 calories more that I typically TRY to consume.

I've known it for a while, especially after St. George when I tried to get even leaner and even faster and really ended up more tired- I hardly ever eat enough food.  When I do consume enough (or more than enough) calories, they are generally empty, sugar-driven, soulless calories that are the result of red wine at the end of a long day or a stack of Chips Ahoy that didn't stand a chance.

There is no "cheat day" for me.  I either am eating clean and well, or I am on a downward spiral of pizza, wings and wine.  My brain doesn't see it any other way, I am either succeeding with my food choices or failing.  There is no happy medium.

I don't know why I'm wired this way, but if you know what I mean it's pretty irritating.  I enjoy food in the moment and generally harbor serious eaters remorse afterward.  If I'm being stringent and staying on a plan, I daydream about cupcakes and M&Ms.

Maybe other people don't have these issues, maybe it's just me.

Anyhoo, one of my first focuses this week is to have this mantra of "Food is Fuel".  I am not counting calories, I am USING macros. My body NEEDS this many macros in order to do what I am asking it to do.  I have to get used to that.  I will get used to that.