My Amazing Body

On October 27, 2014, I went for a run. I know that many people do this for exercise, to stay thin, to "blow off steam," and so forth. I do not know why I decided it had to be running. I could easily bike, go hiking, ski, ice skate, weight lift, or use an elliptical. However, I thought running was the only thing that I could do with myself. No equipment is necessary to perform this task and I did not have to go anywhere, except out my front door.


I am not a thin person. I have a lot of weight on me that I wish was not there and I have struggled for a long time after high school to get it off. I think it is one of the hardest things a person can do. I think it is harder than starting a new job, meeting new people, and buying a house. It takes a lot of willpower to lose weight and many days of feeling crappy, starved, deprived, anxious, angry, and many times, feeling injustice. I say injustice because I am overweight and my sister, who shares the same genes and DNA as me, is able to keep it all under control with what seems like little effort. This negativity, as I have learned recently and the power of the mind does not help the weight come off any easier. What my body needs is some self-love, motivation, and the constant mantra of "You CAN do it!" That is what I did. I just got up that morning and went out my front door.

          
I say "run" and I will tell you, it was NOWHERE near that. However, I have read somewhere that if you are moving, you can call yourself a runner. Having a title and a sense of being "somebody" was enough to get me pumped. I started slow, in crappy old sneakers (which will be important later on in my story). I have exercise induced asthma, but told myself I didn't need to take my inhaler before my run because I was going let my body dictate how much I could take. So, I left home without it, looked both ways at the end of my driveway and pushed my body to do something that was very foreign. A few years ago, at the time I met my husband, I was also a "runner" and had lost almost thirty pounds. I stopped after I got sick with intracranial hypertension, which made exercising intolerable from the incessant pounding headaches, neck and arm pain and double vision. Of course, as it does, the weight came back and then some. I was and am determined this time to let nothing stand in my way for the things that I want. I want this. I want this bad.

         
 With my crappy shoes and my bright yellow vest, my iPod, heart rate monitor and my phone in my hand tracking my distance and laps, I set out to prove my mind and body that I could change its structure from what it looks and feels like now to something more. I was able to run a mile, through two hills. Yeah, I was proud of myself. My heart rate monitor told a different story though. My peak rate for an almost seventeen minute mile was 189 beats per minute. Not good. I read that I burn muscle instead of fat at this high rate and if my calculations are correct, it is way outside of my specific heart rate zone. And, good lord, a seventeen minute mile? I thought of the physical endurance tests back in high school where we had to run a timed mile and I hated myself then for running a nine-minute mile. If I could have only cherished what my body could do for me then. Nevertheless, I was doing it now and no sense in dwelling in the past that you cannot change. Instead of being upset about "peak rate" and "timed mile," I thought how hard my poor heart was working to do what I needed it to do that morning. Keeping me going without making me pass out. I started to appreciate what my fat body could do for me. Actually, let me rephrase that. I was proud of what my wonderful, capable body could do for me.

          
I walked the rest of the way home, tired and exhausted at the amount of energy I had exerted on my first day with a new mindset. My legs, arms, butt, stomach, hips, and back hurt. It was hard to breathe and talk for the first few hours after. My asthma had flared up and I coughed deeply, wheezed and had that terrible itch in my throat that you get from a constricted airway. I relaxed, concentrating on healing my body through my breath (what I had left of them). I wanted my mind to bring my heart rate down through slow, rhythmic breathing and I wanted my asthma symptoms to dissipate through mindful healing. I was able to do so and again, was proud at my body for doing those seemingly simple tasks that I often do not give enough credit to do without pharmaceutical intervention. I stretched my poor muscles, fueled my body with a spinach chocolate protein shake, and said to my body, "Good job, today."

          
I skipped the next day for a chance to rest and to give my poor shins the opportunity to repair themselves. I went running again every other day for two weeks. I was getting better, faster, healing quickly and training my heart to work hard during those running sessions. It was a Saturday I decided I could go a little farther than my normal loop. I added in another half mile totaling three miles. I felt good, I felt empowered, had I had a clearer mind about life. I made it home and that is when it happened; A running injury. Terrible, debilitating pain in my left foot. Doctor Google told me I had peroneal tendonitis, no doubt from overexertion of the added half-mile, flat feet, and crappy shoes. I was so angry at myself. Angry at my body for letting me down when we were just getting started. I read YouTube videos and consulted my massage therapist sister about the best way to get rid of the pain of just regular walking and how to "get back into the game" before my negative mindset would rear its ugly head again, ruining what I felt like was everything I had worked so hard for these past weeks. I rolled the tennis ball up and down my foot, massaged the pain and tenderness on the outside of my foot and around the outside of my ankle. I iced the hell out of my foot, the cold bringing numbing relief I desperately was waiting to feel again. I learned the anatomy of my foot, where the tendons were, the bone structure, future ways I could avoid injury. I also scared myself reading the "worst" case scenarios articles on WebMD - surgery and the inability to perform as well, if at all, following these types of injuries. I told my poor body I would not put it through that and come hell or high water, I was going to get better and get back out there again. I stepped up my at-home physical therapy exercises and massages.

          
Four days after my initial injury, I felt okay enough that I would give it a try again. I just thought if I could get out there, go slow, see how things went, I would be able to warm up my way out of the slight, dull pain I had left in my foot. I put back on the crappy shoes (I know!), gathered my running gear and headed for the road. I started with a light jog and felt okay. There was some pain, but I really truly thought that I would be able to jog my way out of it. My first slight incline at a half mile must have been too much because the pain came back, as bad as before and I limped home, defeated, teeth gritted pissed off. I immediately called my sister, who declared, "GET NEW SHOES, SARAH!" Duh! I went that same day into town and picked up a new pair of shoes, determined to not get too far behind. The shoes felt great and I went home, repeated my at home physical therapy and waited for the next day.

          
Can you recall the feeling of a new pair of shoes? It is like running on the moon! In addition, the pain was gone and that is the most important thing to mention after all this. When there is no pain and the feeling of carrying a little weight, I was proud to say that I ran the fastest mile by three minutes since my first day and the fastest mile so far. I felt on top of the world. I thanked all the different parts of my body. My poor feet, I thanked the most, for still being young and spry enough to bounce back from injury after proper care (and some damn new shoes!) so quickly. I thanked my meaty legs for holding my heavy body and taking me places that I never thought I could get to, even if it was to the end of my road and back. I thanked my heart and lungs for good health and the ability to adapt SO QUICKLY to new things without putting up much of a fight. I thanked my strong back for keeping me upright and I thanked my clear mind for not giving up, even though I felt like my whole world was over because of an injury (I can be extremely dramatic!). I learned that if I expect my body to perform at its optimal and to be able to continue to change and adapt as I bring it running day after day now, I have to fuel it right and provide it with the proper "equipment" as we push on. It is a two way street, you know!

Until next time!

Fine Print: Please know these opinions and actions are my own. They SHOULD NEVER replace the advice, tools, and medications you get from your medical doctor and/or other health professionals. Thank you.