Run Mommy Run 25K

In two days I will wake up, and the calendar is going to show it's March 27th.  A birth day for one of our children.  A goodbye day for one of our children.  And probably thee hardest, darkest, most painful (physically, mentally, spiritually) days of my current forty-three years of life.

Is it a day to celebrate?  A day to ignore? A day to dread? A day to look forward to?  Perhaps it's a day of all of the above, but how in the world does one accomplish that?  How does one celebrate and remember something hard, someone who isn't actually here on earth any more, something that could be easily forgotten, overlooked, ignored.

As the mom of this precious little one who was created and carried within me, and then gently placed directly in the arms of Jesus before she ever made it to my arms, I don't want to forget, I don't want to ignore, but I also don't know how to properly "celebrate" this.  This is our third year already that this date will have come and gone through our calendar since that dark, cold, painful Palm Sunday weekend back in 2015.

I think about this date a lot.  I worry, I dread, I wonder, I plan how to wake up and travel the hours through that date.  Some months it's far off and distant, some months it's starting to loom closer and closer, the urgency to be ready, be prepared growing within me, but that date is always whispering somewhere close to the surface of my thoughts at all times.

I fear doing too much.  I fear not doing enough.  I of course realize there is no right or wrong answer or need to over analyze any of this, and if there was someone with a grievance or opinion out there towards me and what I chose to do, that is not my issue or worry.  But all that being said, I still want to do something special, something personal, something that is enough, without unnecessary extravagance.

For whatever reason, that is important to me.  Deeply important to me.

Back in October, shortly after I ran a half marathon in DesMoines, surrounded by over eight thousand other runners and spectators, I was out on a run, alone, by myself.  It was quite cool, dreary, windy, but I went out anyway.  And as I was battling that inner demon telling me I wasn't a real runner, that I wasn't fast enough, strong enough, that I needed to just stop and walk (and fail), God also again whispered an idea of how I could celebrate and remember Faith this year on her birth date.

I could run a race.  I am really not a runner in my mind (even though I do actually run quite a bit, truth be told).  I could train and run something specifically in memory and honor of her, on her day.  I could do something I really didn't want to do, something that would take months to daily prepare for ahead of time, something that would be physically, mentally, spiritually hard.  Something that would challenge me, push me, humble me, motivate me.  This would not be just any run, this run would have to be something perfectly symbolic of our little Faith MaryJo and her birth.

I got home from that run, showered, and sat in silence on my laptop and I began to plan. I searched for races, and distances, and training programs.  My laptop filled with open windows and tabs of various options to consider.

I narrowed it down and finally registered for a virtual "Run Mommy Run" race, and I decided on a 25K distance. 15.55 miles.  I already had signed up to run a half marathon on my birthday, which would be 13.1 miles on March 10th.  I decided adding just a few more miles would be the perfect representation to having to do something farther than I surely wanted to go, something harder than I thought I could survive or accomplish on my own ~ knowing it will take God's help to get me to and through.  The weather in March is always a crapshoot, but if the weather would happen to be warm enough, I would run it outside and start and end at the cemetery, after dropping my nine-year-old off at school.  Ok so back in October I may have initially said - no matter what the weather, I would be running it outside...

I found running tights with an awesome angel wing print on them (which happen to match both my back tattoo and the back of her headstone).  I found a tank top that said "I have footprint on my heart" (and all proceeds went to support child loss), and the race t-shirt, bib, and metal arrived, and everything went together so well.  I carefully put everything together and started filling out my training calendar, and then I slowly started checking off the days, weeks, months of that training.  I may have also booked myself a massage appointment the afternoon of the race, and asked for the entire day off work.  Why not?!?

To some I realize this whole thing is probably ridiculous, cheesy, and possibly to some ~ virtual races don't actually even count as anything.  But, this was my plan, my goal, my hope for celebrating and remembering, and I was both excited and dreading it all at the same time.

So... here we are.  March 25th.  In two days I will wake up and the calendar will tell me it's March 27.  It will be the day to run, the day to do something ridiculously hard (for me anyway running that far is going to be unbelievably hard) to honor, to remember, to represent that little baby we were given and then not allowed to keep as long as we'd have liked.

She'll be celebrating in heaven while we will be celebrating on earth.

Of course as soon as the ten day forecast hit my weather app, I started to over think, over process, and over analyze the where part and details of the running location for this race.  In a perfect world it will be sunny, no wind, no snow, and 62 degrees out that morning, like the morning of her funeral.  But the reality is not quite looking as such, and I began the mental process of how it would look if I didn't start and finish at the cemetery.  I started sending out random SOS texts to my fellow supporters and asking questions like "Would it be considered cheating if I did my Faith run on the elliptical instead of outside in the cold?" And bless all of their hearts ... they all calmly listened to me process and then ensured me no matter what I end up doing - no matter how far the distance I end up completing - no matter where I run it at, or what machine I log it on - it will still count, it will still be special, it will still be the perfect celebration of her life and our loss.

If I am being completely honest with myself, I also realized that perhaps some of my inner tension and small reasoning behind pegging such a long hard distance to this race goal, is just maybe... in small part... also a way of punishment to my body for failing me.  For failing to be fertile for years and years and years of my life, for failing to fully nurture and grow the life of two precious littles that both had tiny beating hearts within my womb but never outside me.  Running is something mind over matter, something that is somewhat within my control (or so I'd like to at least think).

And yes, of course I know my body is not the reason of their deaths and does not need to be punished - but as I processed the reasoning behind my sudden dilemma over running it inside vs outside, I knew this was something I needed to personally process and mentally address.

My friends all so clearly replied "What would Faith want you to do?  She would want you to run something, do something, accomplish something that allows you to feel confident and accomplished afterward.  She wouldn't care if you decide to run it outside, or on your treadmill, or on your elliptical, or if you just walked one mile and then laid on the floor of your basement and cried your eyes out for the next two hours.  She would want you to do something that you feel excited about doing, something you are able to do and celebrate as something great."

So ... as of today I'm still undecided as to where I will actually do the race, but more than likely it will be inside vs outside, because truth be told I do not like running outside in the cold, and if I'm truly doing this as celebration and not punishment, I do not need to require myself to endure both the distance and the cold if I really don't want to or have to.  I will not be a failure if I don't run it outside, and I will not be cheating if I do it on my elliptical. I also won't be a failure if I'm not actually able to make it the entire distance (running, walking, or otherwise).

I've told a few people what I'm going to be doing, but like her pregnancy, most probably won't know until it's over.  I'm not doing this run so I can boast about it, I'm doing it for entirely personal reasons to fully celebrate and represent her, and her life, and my life's journey because of her. 

This one's for you Faith MaryJo!! This one's for YOU!!

#runlikethewindbullseye #faithmaryjo #embracethehard #journeytofaith #runningnonrunner #angelmama #stillbirth #childloss #25ktraining 

{ Previous blog post "The Eve of Another Half Marathon" HERE }

{ My Journey to Faith story starts HERE }

Eve of another Half Marathon

Well, I just put in the last workout for this current half marathon training.

Yes, I have arrived at the eve of yet another half marathon.  I've had this one on my calendar since October, and have been officially training for it for the past three months.  It seemed so far away... and now here it almost is.  24 hours away.  24 hours.

Am I ready? Will I be able to finish? Will I be able to complete the whole distance without stopping?  What if I can't finish?  What if I DNF?  Maybe I better not even tell anyone I'm doing this, because then if I fail, no one will even need to know, it will be my own little secret of shame.  What a minute - why am I even doing this?!?  This is stupid, this is crazy, what was I thinking?!?

These are all things I'm thinking about today, the runaway thoughts of all the little butterflies fluttering within me.  And yet, it doesn't really matter.  None of it actually matters to anyone ... except myself.  Whether I get up tomorrow and do this or not is not going to make one difference to the rest of the world except myself. 

Funny how that works.  Within our minds we create and manifest our goals and personal expectations, often to a level we will never be able to actually achieve.  We set the bar inside us for what our worth and value is.  And we set that bar based on how we perceive the world and society around us, and how we think they are perceiving us.  We set that bar based on what others are doing, what others have done, and what others haven't yet done yet in comparison to what we are doing, what we have done, and what we haven't yet done yet.  We set that bar based on what's usually a false expectation of unattainable perfection.  And we then proceed to nearly kill ourselves in it's endless pursuit.  It can bring it to our greatest, and it can also bring it to our worst.

We watch the news, we get poisoned by the advertisements, we follow the social media avenues of false realities continually cutting us down in all our lack and shortcomings.  Our mind is our own worst enemy, and the worlds most dangerous weapon.

Does anyone but me care that I didn't quite make my race day goal weight?  Nope.

Does anyone but me care that I'm going to run a half marathon tomorrow morning, and with the weather we currently have in this glorious state of Iowa, I'm probably going to end up having to do it in my basement on a machine that isn't even going to move one inch?  Nope.

Does it matter to anyone if I'm running 13.1 miles by myself or if I'm running alongside 8,000 other runners at the same time to "achieve" this accomplishment tomorrow?  Nope.

Does anyone but me care that I didn't miss one single workout, not one single mile of my training?  Nope. Nope and Nope.

Turn that around through and ask if I care? Oh me oh my, yes indeed.  It's what drives me, motivates me, gets me up in the morning, keeps me up at night.  It's what fires up the crazy and backfires again the sanity.

We set our goals, we dream our dreams, we chase our realities, we pray for our miracles, we bank on our hopes and fears of success vs failures - and we ourselves are the ones who ultimately write the definition of what exactly is considered our "successes" and what exactly is considered our "failures".

The whole thing really is a rather complex and interesting process and reality isn't it?!?  We're each our own, and yet we are also all each directly integrated and woven into each other.  We live, we love, we encourage, we walk beside, we hurt, we scar, we hinder both ourselves and others all along the way. We lift up, we let down. It's a mix and match of teamwork, and that of me, myself, and I.  It's being totally giving, and totally selfish, somehow all at the same time.

It's what's a given.  It's what's expected.  It's what drives us to greatness.  It's what drives us to worthiness. And it's what drives us to false worthlessness.

It's all merely a game, a perception yet a reality, a force that drives us, propels us, forces us, motivates us, moves us, and ultimately makes us each who we are.  It's what gives us the words, the actions, the decisions, and definitions to our very own thoughts, beliefs, and identities, which in turn will affect and touch the lives of all those around us, who are also busy attempting to live a life being ultimately who they are.

So does what we are doing matter to the rest of the world? Nope.

Ok, yes - perhaps overall, the world as a whole, really isn't all that interested in what the rest of the world is doing... but what we do does matter to some.  It does matter to those who are rooting us on, loving us, who are part of our tribe, the ones believing in us each and every day.

What we do does matter - and we need to continue to allow ourselves to let it matter.  If it matters to me, if it matters to you, then it matters - and it's important and it's worth it.  It's worth pursuing and persevering towards, no matter what the cost.

We need to stop listening to the mumbled drone of the world's overall lost photoshoped imperfect perfections and tune in to the clear voices within ourselves.  We need to continue to listen to what our hearts and souls are driving us towards, listen to what our hopes and dreams are propelling us towards, listen to what our bodies are asking us to do... and then... let it matter.

Live fully the life we have been given, live to be the greatest and best you you can be, and live to help everyone else live to be their greatest and their best they can be.

Let it matter.  Let yourself matter.  Let your dreams matter.  Find your tribe - find those who love you and root you on and listen to their love and hang on to their support.

"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross,scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart." ~Hebrews 12:1-3

{ Previous Blog Post "So Let The Sun Shine In" HERE }

So Let The Sun Shine In

Do you remember that old song from when you were a kid...

"So let the sun shine in... face it with a grin... open up your heart and let the sunnnn shineeee innnn."

This is the song that has been playing in the my head the last two days.  Over and over and over... and it makes me smile every time it starts playing.  It's been a while since I've smiled.

I live it Iowa, and it's winter, and we haven't had a lot of sun or warmth in a while.  So much snow and so much cold... and my personal outlook was starting to feel about as cold and stark and bleak as the weather outside.

And then yesterday... the sun came out, the temperatures rose just a little, and there was almost the hint of spring in the air.  There was some melting snow trickling down the street curbs, and the sun honestly I think touched a part of my very soul.  I found myself sitting with eyes closed at my desk, just sitting in the sun, soaking in the blinding rays, and as I sat there silent and still, I heard the words whispered through an exhale "Oh this sun is good for my soul..."

So so good for my weary, worn, troubled soul.

I've been a little on the down and out, a little on the life is heavy side of things lately.  I know it, I'm aware of it, I've tried to just own it and embrace it.  I've tried to just keep muddling through it, attempting to just hold on as hard as I can for as long as I can.  I was quickly fading fast, my endurance and my strength screaming their resistance to me.

I am officially down to my last week of half marathon training before my run next Saturday morning.  Today was that blessed eight mile "easy" run after three weeks in a row of double digit long runs.  I admit, I'm laughing out loud at myself as I write this... who am I trying to kid, I am not a runner, and what non-runner gets joy in getting an "easy" training day that is "only" a "short" eight miles?!? ~LOL.  And perhaps on a more serious note, I do think at some point I do need to own up to the fact that maybe, just maybe, I am in fact, a "real runner."  I have denied this year after year after year... but maybe one of these days I'm going to have to swallow my insecurities and my excuses and just call myself a runner.  (Maybe next week I'll take on that inner battle once and for all ~wink.)

I'm starting to get a little nervous, a tiny bit excited, and just a little anxious.  Am I ready? Will I be able to make it the entire distance? Will the pain in my feet become more than I can bare before I reach the finish?  My weight is not where I want it to be a week before a race, but I guess it is what it is.  The heaviness and obsessive overwhelm has finally started to lift a little, that glorious sunshine melting it away perhaps.

My heart is still pumping, my body is still alive and well, my legs are still able to run, and Lord willing I will add another number to my life next week.

And I plan to celebrate that, and I will try keep those obsessive demons of failure from breathing their poison and lies into my mind this week.  I am going to attempt to push myself for those hard and horrible 13.1 miles, and in the end, who really cares (except myself) that I might be dragging along six extra pounds across the finish line?

Today I stand in the sun, today I breathe deep the breath I've been given for another day, today I celebrate the gift of the promise of spring, of warmth, of tomorrows.

"So let the sun shine in... face it with a grin... open up your heart and let your loveeee shineeee innnn."

{ Previous blog post "Today" HERE }

{ Next blog post "The Eve of another Half Marathon" HERE }

Today

Somehow I have gotten lost. Again.  Lost in life.  Lost in loss. Lost in the addictions and manipulations and shortcomings of day to day life.  Lost in the chaos and control I manically try to hold on to.  I was starting to let go, starting to accept, to change, to recognize.  And then one day looked up and I didn't quite recognize where I was at any more.  Why does this keep happening to me, why?!?!

This is the story of my life.  After all these years I should feel comfortable here in my uncomfortable, stable in my unstable.  

I felt I was doing good for a while.  I felt good, strong, bold, healing, settled.  But as I look back, I question what I was actually gauging that success on. Was it the number on the scale, the number of pages I read, the number of blogs I wrote, the number of miles I logged, the number on the label of the clothes I wore?  Or was it honestly gauged on the improved state of my heart, my soul, my inner health and well being?

Somehow my journey of child loss intersected with my journey of weight loss, and somehow that went from something great to something exhausting.  I went from someone gaining strength and traction, back to someone losing ground and falling apart.

I went from wise choices and wise words to poor choices, empty words, and an autopilot life.  I went from fending off satan and his lies, to friending him and being sucked into his deceit.  I went from finding my inner worth and sparkle to yet again losing it.

At what point do you just give up, give in, let go?

At what point do you kick your heels in and grab life, yet again, by the horns and say TODAY!  TODAY we start fresh, TODAY we start over and take back the control.  TODAY we kick satan back to the curb and walk away from his lies and his heartaches.

I feel the pull and the darkness upon me, gaining in intensity, pulling me in, pushing me around, bullying me from all sides.  I feel the battle going strong within. I feel defeated.  I feel frustrated. I feel angry.

I did not come this far to only come this far.  I did not lose the weight to just once again lose the battle.  I did not lose the child to once again lose myself to my own insecurities and lies of unworthiness.

No, not this time.  I will not cycle back through my typical roller coaster cycle of emotions, worth, and weight gain insecurities.  I will not.  Not this time.

TODAY is the day I start over.  TODAY is the day I breath deep and say no more.  TODAY is the day I choose myself, choose me, choose my health, choose my sanity, choose my destiny.  TODAY is the day I start believing in the power of my own worth, my own strength, my own willpower, my own desire to really heal and improve and move beyond this.

I will always be a woman who has dealt with weight issues, infertility issues, eating disorder issues, self worth issues, marriage issues, parenting issues, child loss issues, control issues.

I will also always be a woman who has a Heavenly Father who will love her no matter what tragedies, what battles, what losses, what struggles rage ceasingly within her.  He will always be there waiting for her to choose Him, to choose herself, and to choose to face her fears, to choose to battle her scars, and continue forward.

TODAY I choose to stand back up, dust myself off, extend my hand once again to Him, turn my back to satan and simply take take that first step again.  Oh how many times have I had to get back up and just take that first step again.  Over and over and over I fall, I fail, I wallow, I wail, I fall victim to the lies of worthlessness.  Over and over and over I stand up and start over.  And maybe that's the real underlying beauty of life... we have an endless opportunity to wake up and simply start over, start fresh.

TODAY is a stand back up and start over day.  TODAY, not tomorrow, TODAY.  Right here, right now.  Let's do this.  #kickasssass

{ Previous blog post "Six Pounds" HERE }

{ Next blog post "So Let The Sun Shine In" HERE }

Six Pounds

Six pounds.  I have gained six pounds.  Just being honest here.

Today my inner battle is between the acceptance of those six pounds, or if I'm supposed to use them as motivation to get back down to the weight I felt the best at, the weight that I was able to maintain for the last year, but suddenly can't seem to keep off anymore.

Today I am going to fake it 'til I make it.  Today I'm poured into a pair of jeans I am not comfortable in, I do not feel that I look good in, I do not feel happy about.  I realize I'm probably the only one who can see those six pounds.  Lord knows I'm the only one that can feel the full weight of those six pounds (both the physical and mental weight of them).  In reality, no one is really probably going to notice or give a rats ass about those six pounds on me today except me, but they are there, and I know they are there.

Is it a control issue?  Hell yes it's a control issue.
Is it a me thing?  Hell yes it's a me thing.
Does it bother me?  Hell yes it bothers me.  More than it should, it bothers me.

I listened to a live webcast last night about infant and child loss and grief, and she talked so beautifully of the stages and steps we hurting mamas need to take as we process the lives and losses of our precious littles that are in the arms of Jesus in Heaven instead of in our arms and on our laps here on earth.  It was so well done, so well presented.

One of the key steps the speaker talked about is needing to come to terms with ourselves, accepting our bodies as they are, and learning to live with, and love fully, our own selves and our own physical bodies.

They hurt us, they denied us, they let us down, they aren't perfect, but they are our bodies... ours... no one else's.  Our bodies are the only things really in our control, and yet completely out of our control all at the same time. What an ebb and flow, what a juxtaposition, what a gift, what a burden.

So, obviously I don't love my body, I don't fully love myself, and I have identity and control issues.  And I have dealt with these issues as far back as I can remember... all the way back to early middle school, back to the beginning steps of being taken captive by the inner demon of an eating disorder.  My mind was at war with my body years before my body went to war with my body as I went from battling weight and self acceptance, to battling infertility and child loss.

So today I stand in that messy and slippery cross roads of telling myself it's ok that I'm starting to gain back the weight I'd lost... I knew it would happen sooner or later, it always does, it's unavoidable, it's just another check on that long list of my failures.   No, I'm not defined by the scale and my weight and my body mass index.  No, I'm no less of a person because I weigh six pounds more than I did a few weeks ago, and yes it's actually perfectly fine if I chose to do nothing about it and stay right where I'm at.

And the other side of this slippery road of weight gain is the silent yet screaming voice inside telling me it's not ok, I'm not ok, that this has got to be the motivation to get my shit back together, and get it back together soon, before it gets any worse.

And a huge part of me is screaming at myself - "Seriously, why are we still battling this?!? You are almost forty three years old, get a grip and get over yourself already!"

Six pounds.  Six little, yet enormous, pounds.  Will I let them control me, define me, hijack me over and over again?  Will I allow them to take control and invite all their friends to join them for lunch and stay again for a few years?  Or will I take back the control and send them back on their way?

Or... will I finally surrender it fully and totally to the foot of the cross, laying it all down at the feet of Jesus, allowing HIM to finally and fully be the One I allow to be in control of my life, allowing HIM to finally and fully be the One who decides my value and my worth through His eyes, not through my eyes, not through the worlds eyes?

{ Previous blog post "Just Keep Hanging On" HERE }

{ Next blog post "Today" HERE }

Just Keep Hanging On

I am on the struggle bus of life right now, and I'm sure that no one wants to hear about it.  We are all on the struggle bus of life right now.

It's the middle of February, we just had a snow day on a day that was supposed to be a make-up snow day.  It's cold, it's icy out, winter seems like it's been here forever and spring seems a million miles away.

I've hit that plateau, that hanging on by my fingernails, that basically I'm ready to crash and burn and completely fall off the wagon of all things good and all things hard.  My mind is no longer in the game, my body slowly in the starting stages of morphing back into that which it once was, that which I did not like.

I've been hanging out here for the last year... eating the same foods, doing the same exercise training, basically maintaining the same weight within a pound or two, feeling overall pretty ok with how I looked.  And then that all started to change.  Well the same foods and same exercising didn't change - but the weight and the feeling ok about myself did.  And you know what, I know they go hand in hand.  I know my body needs a little “shake it up” with what I’m putting in and it and what I’m expecting out of it. I know my attitude and outlook also could use a little “shake it up” about right now.

I have a closet full of new clothes I've acquired over the last twelve months, I have an instagram account full of inspirational quotes and smiling selfies after big accomplishments.  I have a blog with posts about the journey, the battle, the struggle, the loss, the attempted inspiration I want to be to others.  I also have a strong cup of coffee next to me with real creamer in it this morning.  Not sugar free, not fat free, not a packet of sweet-n-low, no I got out the full fat, full sugar creamer and probably poured in more than the two tablespoons, two points worth that I'm going to log it as on my faux weight watchers old school app.

What good are the new clothes if they don't fit anymore?  What good is the inspiration and aspirational social media posts if I can't believe or follow them myself anymore? And surely, what good is a first cup of coffee in a silent house without some good ol full flavor creamer in it?!?

I went to bed resolving I was not going to get up early this morning.  I was also not going to weigh in this morning.  It was only going to show a gain and I didn't want to see it or deal with the mind games it was going to throw at me.  I was not going to run this morning.  My back hurt and I'm getting a cold and mostly because I just didn't want to.

And then my alarm went off at 4:00 a.m. and I climbed out of bed.  And I played this stupid game in my head as I fed the dog and got my shoes on and my water out of the fridge and headed downstairs.  Just walk today.  Ok just do intervals today.  Maybe every other mile.  Maybe every half mile.  Maybe run the first mile and walk the rest.  Maybe don't do all five miles.  Maybe just walk two miles and call it good. Good Gandhi girl just get on the darn treadmill and get it over with.

And I did.

And you know what?  I ended up running all five miles and when I went to log it in my app, it came up as the fastest five mile pace I've done. And that was on a treadmill of all crazy things.  And then I went upstairs and stood in the bathroom looking at the scale.  It's Tuesday.  I'm supposed to weigh in on Tuesdays.  Sure is funny that's it's so much more exciting to stand there on the mornings when you have an anticipated loss vs the mornings when you know that is probably not going to be the case.  And then I put my toe on it and it turned on and then I climbed on the damn thing.

It wasn't horrible, but it wasn't anywhere close to what I was wanting it to be, even though I knew that was not going to be the case.  I didn't gain this week.  I'm not where I want to be anymore, but I didn't gain this week.  Small victory, even if I'm not feeling anywhere near to victorious right now.

I got up, I fought the inner demons, and can cross off today's five miles on my training calendar.  I even PR'd of all the crazy things.  I didn't gain this week.  I should be flying on a runners high of great accomplishments today, but I'm not.  I still feel a failure, still feel victim of the battle, the inner war of perfectionism, of control, of not enough.

It's the season, it's the society surrounding me, it's the media bombarding me, it's my past scratching mercilessly at me, it's my future taunting me, laughing at me.

I'm not sure what to actually even do, where to go next... but I do know where I don't want to end back up, where I don't want to succumb to again.  So I will continue to hang on just a little longer, I will vow to fight on just a little longer, I will resolve to turn this back around, somehow... some way... before I end up all the way back to square one.  And you know what, even if I do end right back up there, I am not a failure.  Sure, I'm going to feel like one, heck I already do and I'm only up six pounds of the forty...  But deep inside I do know it's not about the number on the scale, it's not about the miles on the app, the pace those miles took to complete.

It's about the journey ~ and oh how easy it is to lose sight of that isn't it, at least for me anyway. Funny how clear and bright and energy filled the good days can be, and how fuzzy and bleak and heavy the bad days can be.  And it seems I've had more of those bleak days than I have those blazing days lately, but I need to just keep hanging on... just keep hanging on...

{ Next Blog Post "Six Pounds" HERE }

{ Previous Blog Post "A Few Thoughts On Feeling Heavy" HERE }

A Few Thoughts On Feeling Heavy

Last night I went to bed feeling heavy ... both physically and mentally.

It was a mix of both this normal and familiar feeling with that of a new and odd feeling as I laid there, waiting for sleep to take me away, allowing me reprieve from the chaos for just a few short hours.  I am fully submersed in my current Journey to Faith, as well as my Journey of Weight Loss.  They both go entirely hand in hand, both entirely integrated and woven together into one tight fabric.  A tapestry I currently feel is becoming filled with little snags and the start of some wear holes.

I've been on this Faith journey now for three years.  Three years. 1,095 days. I've been on this weight journey now for... well - I've been on a weight battle for over thirty years now, and on this specific leg of that journey now for sixteen months.  I've been in official half marathon training off and on now for the past twelve months.

Today all of it feels a battlefield.  It's a thrilling, exhausting, exciting, scary roller coaster of feelings, emotions, thoughts, and physical demands.  It's good days and bad days.  Sad days and happy days.  Intense days and numb days.  It's "I have it all together days" and "I am completely falling apart at the seams" days.

I'm getting up every morning and putting in the time, getting in the miles.  But am I really putting in the effort I once was?  Am I really as invested and driven as I once was?  No, I don't think I am.  I don't think I have the force and the effort left to back up the drive and determination.  I'm merely going through the motions but not fully feeling and processing the emotions anymore.

Maybe that's actually good, maybe I'm healing, maybe I'm supposed to be plateaued in my life right now.  But it's left me feeling stagnant, weary, lost, heavy.  Ok, maybe not lost so much as just not as invested, not as committed, not as driven.  I feel I'm doing the time, but not achieving the results, not accomplishing the full potential.  I'm slowly starting to lose my sparkle.

Minimal, just enough, coasting, auto pilot.
Fatigue, weariness, lack luster.

Maybe it's the season, maybe it's the weather - the cold, the snow, the winter blues piling up and taking it's toll.  Maybe it's mental fatigue, maybe it's physical weariness, maybe it's spiritual dryness.  

Maybe it's all just normal.  Maybe it's not just me.  I'm pretty sure it's not just me.

It's time to realign my focus, evaluate my goals, write up a new game plan, establish a new motivational plan of attack.  It's time to get my head back in the game.  Back in the game of life, in the game of self care, in the game of soul searching, in the game of healing and hurting, loving and longing for. Back in the game of accomplishment and improvement, in the game of living life and loving myself better.

It's time to step it back up, get back into gear, take back the control, take back the pride, take back my health and my mental wealth.  It's time to stop standing still and start moving forward again.  It's time.

It's time.

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