Carrying extra weight

Well the cat is out the bag now. I haven't posted in awhile to avoid spilling the beans! So much in my fitness world has changed these past 3 months, that it was difficult not to write about it. 

I'm expecting a baby (not in the mail, in my tummy). I was not convinced it was true, but the ultrasound proved that it was in fact not too many burritos (as my husband suspected). Nor is it a puppy - sorry Rob.

I just hit 3 months / 12 weeks. Nearly done with the first trimester (not sure how this math works exactly....40 weeks / 3 trimesters = 13.3 weeks). I give up on trying to figure it out! All I know is a baby is arriving around the last week of July, maybe August if it decides to cook a bit longer. 

The first people to know I was pregnant were my CrossFit coaches, weeks before family and friends. It was a super awkward conversation for me, but necessary. They worked with me to immediately start scaling movements, intensity, and load. Basically I have to be able to talk during the WOD (not be completely out of breath), nothing that would hyper extend my abdomen area, nothing that is ab focused like sit-ups, and lastly nothing where I can fall (like box jumps). I've also added no jump rope to the list at this point because it's extremely uncomfortable. 

For weights I've scaled down to what still feels hard to me now. For example if I was lifting 100 lbs before, I'm doing 50 lbs now. Interestingly enough, this is still incredibly difficult as my body's "max" has adjusted naturally. 

Next I applied the same rules to Dance, although less of them apply. Dance is great while pregnant! Even if you look silly (especially the sexy moves......no sexy here). 

Now what I can and cannot do on paper means NOTHING if how I feel does not align. OMG ladies....I do not recommend this pregnancy nonsense. I know that sounds horrible, but let me vent please before you crucify me. 

Shortly after finding out, I traveled to San Francisco for business and had a great workout week. I was running great distances. Even through Thanksgiving I was killing it on the runs. Then week 6-7 hit. Like a wave all at once - constant nausea, acid reflex, throwing up, dizzy, achy, headaches, food cravings, food aversion. Then about week 9, the growth started. Boobs and tummy started to grow and I put some weight on. 

That has been pretty much been my life up until this point. I'm barely a functioning adult. Supposedly, it gets better soon and then I start to "glow". Like a tan? That would be nice.

I haven't run since early December - just can't swallow it. Maybe in the second trimester I can give it a shot.

My plan for pregnancy fitness is to stay as active as possible within healthy limits. Trying to exercise daily for an hour. No more record breaking and trying new things for the next 6 months (unless eating competitions count). Apparently it's really good for me and the baby to not veg out, even though I want to. Common sense. It will also help me keep my weight in check as I continue to grow.  

I can see myself running miles with a stroller in a few months....

Step backwards, step forwards

When I was looking for a photo for this post, I found myself caught in a weird trap. I even questioned drawing attention to it now.

I was at 6:30am CrossFit (don't believe me - there's a clock in the photo!) I'm staring intently at the coach to understand what the work-out will entail. In case you were wondering, it was rotating rowing and front squats for time. Then my attention shifted to my body in the photo....and how my back thighs (gluts?) are like bulging out of my shorts. Thoughts began racing through my mind:  "OMG - do I always look like that? Is it just a bad moment? Are other people wondering what business I have wearing shorts at all?"

My first reaction was to use Photoshop to blur/blend so the skin looked more even. Then I stopped myself. That seemed backwards to everything I've been writing. 

It's incredible how much power our mental health can have over our physical bodies. Recently, I had a BAD day - stressed both at work and at home. It was one small thing after another that snowballed into a hot mess version of myself. We were doing some bio-metric screening at work for employees - and I learned that I had gained 10 pounds. After 9 months of hard work...surely being rewarded with an increase in weight makes perfect sense (said no one ever). I got the old "well muscle is heavier than fat" speech, but I didn't want to hear it.

Strike two followed with the fitness test that followed. It was all like junior high gym class all over again. It was a particularly cold and windy day. The test involved running outside which triggered an asthma attack. I tried to stifle it as to not draw attention to myself, which probably just made my breathing worse.

Lastly strike three- Crossfit that particular afternoon was very crowded. You needed a partner and I got lost in the crowd (seriously....junior high again). With no luck, I desperately tried to find a partner or at least bring it to someone's attention. Fine, I'll do this alone. In my effort to find a partner, I missed part of the directions and was very confused on the movement I was supposed to be doing. I looked around and what everyone else was doing. "Hmmm ok they're moving the bar like that and then like this....ok seems easy enough."  Famous last words. 

It was the Bear Complex. Totally simple....

I tried several times and it felt so unnatural. I definitely wasn't doing this right. A few attempts in and I swung the bar up so fast towards my face that I hit my nose really hard. Ok let me just put the bar down for a second before I pass out in pain.

A coach comes along to ask why I stopped moving. I kind of stare at her blankly (perhaps even blinking). She asks if I was ok....boom, tears rushing down my face. Oh everything is just jolly! Next thoughts are quick, escape before anyone sees me cry.

And that my friends is someone having a meltdown. 

I knew this was a step backwards: more significant than missing a day of exercise, or not being able to meet a minute, a mile, or a weight. This was some serious damage to my morale. 

After a weekend of recovery - I went back to the CF box on Monday. The work-out involved double unders (the jump rope goes under you twice in one jump). I'm not exactly coordinated so the idea of moving that quickly just made me roll my eyes. Please - I'll stick to traditional single jump roping. Low and behold, after some pushing from a coach, I did my first double under successfully! And continued to do so for the entire work-out. My grin was ear to ear. 

A step forward.

It's not the destination, but the journey

There are different ways to measure accomplishments. Some are tangible and quantifiable, and some are more like a feeling.

I recently completed my first 5k race in 31 minutes and 47 seconds, averaging a 10 minute mile pace. Although small to those who run many miles each day, this was no easy feat for someone who could not run a single mile unbroken just a few months ago. This surely wasn't a safe task for someone who uses an inhaler multiple times a day just to breathe. And it's surely not what most doctors would have recommended or how I was raised to handle adversity.

But this accomplishment was a calculated plan. A measurable task with distance, time, and a clear end goal. There was a clear distinction between success and failure (e.g. running vs. walking, not crossing the finish line).

I'd like to highlight another accomplishment, though more subtle, has greater meaning along the journey. I was fortunate enough to spend some one-on-one time with my oldest niece and nephew up in Massachusetts this weekend.  In an effort to expose them to something different and to promote healthy living, we took them hiking in a state park. It was about a 2 mile trek to reach the Concord river and back to our starting location. Sharing this moment with them instead of divulging in sweets, fast food, video games, and other sedentary activities was worth more than running a full marathon! 

My niece Julia was getting tired and asked me to carry her some of the way. Unexpectedly, I was able to lift and carry her 50 lb. body (with altitude and uneven terrain). 

I might not have not lost any weight, I might be the same clothing size, I might not appear "fit" to spectators....

But the feeling this experience gave me represents how far I've come. This leads me to believe that it's not the destination, but the journey.

Mix It Up

I'm happy to report that I've reached all my goals. I am the fittest woman on earth. My health is perfect. And I'm done with all this exercise nonsense. 

Just kidding.

This journey has proven to actually be a journey. Not a straight line with a beginning and end, but an upward trending slope (with valleys and peaks). One week I'll make great strides, and the next week I'm barely doing the minimum amount of work. I was very congested the past few days and missed many days of exercise. I simply couldn't breathe well enough where exercise was safe. Last night was my first run after 4 sedentary days. And it was a good run - 1.6 miles (with only one nostril open for air!). 

Last week I learned a valuable lesson in "mixing it up" with varying my activities. My mix for the last few months has included CrossFit, Dance, and Running. Considering that CrossFit is different every time......and I have three activities overall. My mix is pretty varied! But given where I work,  I have a million more opportunities available to me that I do not take advantage of. I decided to take a boxing class as part of a special event. 

1. I don't like being violent (not that boxing makes you a violent person, but I just don't enjoy hitting things)
2. Ow my hands hurt
3. Much more of a work-out than I expected.  My arms were sore the next day.

It was cool to challenge myself to try a new skill and move my body in a new way. I'm going to make it a goal to insert a new activity into the mix every two weeks. I think the next one will be my first spin class!

This coming Sunday is my 5k road race. That means this week is my last chance to get to 3.1 miles BEFORE the actual race. Game face on, focused, and feeling better with my breathing. 

Run like Hell

September always feels like the start of a new year to me. Perhaps years of school conditioning has ingrained that into my mind. With a new year comes new challenges and goals. Now that the Tough Mudder is behind me, and I most likely won't be doing another one in the short-term because of my busy schedule and location limitations, I've set my sights on a new hurdle. 

I remind myself of the specific goals I outlined in June:

• Participating in the Tough Mudder on August 15th - CHECK
• Being able to run a mile unbroken  CHECK
• CrossFit: 
• being able to deadlift 150 lbs
• being able to successfully pull myself up on gymnast rings 
• Breaking a gender stereotype / shocking someone 

And I have decided to further develop my running abilities. I HATE running. It hurts my knees, it aggravates my asthma, and I look stupid doing it (sort of like a penguin or new born fawn). However, there is no denying that it is the foundation of fitness. Nearly all sports and fitness activities involve running, or at least as part of training. Running builds stamina, endurance, and discipline. The more I run, the more I work through my asthma.

I've signed up to participate in a 5k run on October 4th. I have exactly one month to prepare for it (5 km = 3.1 miles). My husband plans to join me, and possibly a friend or two.

I still haven't addressed my chronic pain and soreness issues. I'm pretty sure they are not injuries, but this seems like an intolerable way to live for months on end. What's the point of all this if I'm constantly in pain? 


(Photo credit: Reebok CrossFit One - August 21, 2015)
Check out the intense look of distress on my face!

I got a little muddy

Bruised, beaten, tired and sore....I am most excited to write this entry. On August 15th, the day before my 26th birthday, I participated in a Tough Mudder on Long Island. I've mentioned before that this was something I had planned to use as a benchmark, a goal to work towards. It was an emotional and physical roller coaster of an event. Luckily, I had a great teammate by my side (my friend Ali) and a wonderful cheerleader (my husband) snapping pictures along the way (although sometimes I wanted to throw mud at him during my low points).

As we waited for our wave to be released at the starting line, we heard a motivating pep talk from one of the event organizers. I'm a sucker for pep talks, and I honestly think it's what got me through the first few miles so well. He spoke about the reason we were there that day. Not to compete, not for the best time, not to succeed at every obstacle, but to do something difficult that scares us. He spoke of another mudder who recently passed away from battling cancer. He said don't feel bad for him, he accomplished more in his last years than most of us will in a lifetime. That mudder found strength in events like these, despite his diagnosis. The organizer also spoke of the fear and pain you might feel when facing an obstacle. He said to put in the context of a soldier who defends our country, a police officer, a fire fighter, and EMS who don't even hesitate a second before running into a dangerous situation to save a life. 

At that point, you could have put anything in front of me and I would beast-ed it! 

We ran the first 3 miles pretty consistently, but then my asthma started to affect my breathing and I needed to slow down. For miles 4 through 10, I ran sprints when I could and walked when I couldn't run.

The first obstacle set the tone that this was NO game; crawling through mud on the ground with barbed wire above your head. They failed to mention all the rocks and concrete only an inch under the mud which hurt like a bitch and tore up my elbows and legs. I spent the next few minutes complaining about it. Rule #3 Tough Mudder: "I do not whine, Kids whine."

Another significant moment was an obstacle called the King of Swingers, where I had to jump in mid air from pretty high up, grab a trapeze type bar, swing on it to hit a bell (yeah right), and then plummet into the muddy water (12 feet deep). I hesitated at the top and then finally let go. I was surprised that I grabbed the bar (it looked so far away). But then as I started falling towards the water, I filled with terror and began to panic. I hit the water pretty hard and came up gasping for air (although I can swim - it made no sense). Once I got to dry land, I literally curled into a ball and my eyes filled with tears. I needed a minute to get my shit together....

The thing that surprised me the most was the sense of community and comradery among participants. Anytime we needed it, there was a helping hand without having to ask. No one was being judgmental or putting each other down. At one obstacle called the Liberator, I had to scale a wall using pegs. About 3/4 up the wall, I misjudged the distance of the peg when I went to place my foot. My foot missed and started to dangle and I struggled to hold myself up. All I could think that I was going to fall to the ground and break an arm or leg. Then all of a sudden, some woman pushed me from below, allowing me to place my foot on a higher peg so I wouldn't fall off the wall. An angel. 

Around mile 8 I thought I was going to die. I was completely exhausted, every muscle hurt, and I've never run that much distance before. I suggested we cut through and skip the last 2 miles, but we decided to persevere and finish it, skipping the last two obstacles instead.

As we crossed the finish line and enjoyed our victory beer, I was already scheming on when I could sign up for the next one! 

In other words, I'm hooked! 

Slow and steady wins the race?

With less than a month away from Tough Mudder, I thought I would be further along in progress. I underestimated the layers of the onion that needed to be peeled away. However, I am surprised and proud at some of the small improvements I HAVE made. I think step one was just being aware of the problem and making active choices to get on the right path. Dedication - I have that too. I haven't given up on my goals. This week I broke my mile run time at 12 minutes (used to be 15 minutes). I'm hoping to be able to run the mile consistently (through my asthma) without losing my pace. That's the next step.

I've also noticed muscle definition in my arms that I've never seen or felt before. It's not something that others can really see because it's not dramatic yet, but with any small changes in your body, you notice first of course.

Unfortunately, people look for the visual cues of progress. I had someone recently grab the fat under my arm and say something along the lines of "I thought you work out now". I'm sure the person did not realize the effects of their poor actions, but it's more common than you would think. You can't help but let things like that get to you - even if you tell yourself that you don't care what others think.

Maybe slow and steady wins the race after all? 

I have to admit, I was also wondering why I haven't lost any weight (now 5 months into exercising daily and eating better). I mean ZERO weight loss. I went to the doctor last week for a physical and she went through the normal health checklist. She couldn't figure it out either. The only thing that I'm truly still doing "wrong" is drinking alcohol. Maybe as I'm getting older, my body is processing and storing it in a different way? I would say I've cut the amount and frequency of alcohol by 75% since starting this endeavor. But for some reason this specific sugar / carb intake is just sticking to me.

My other theory, which I have no proof of, is that I'm genetically disposed to look this way. No one on either side of my family is particularly fit or healthy. Many have struggled with some serious weight and health problems throughout the years. It sounds like an excuse when I say that, but I think there might be some truth to this whole thing being "harder' for me than the average person. Not impossible, just harder.

My husband and I are leaving for a two week vacation in Italy and we plan to stay as active as possible. In the past, we tend to enjoy activities instead of vegging out while on vacation anyway. If anything, we should be even better at it now. Italy involves lots of walking and carrying heavy bags, which will be a natural way to keep moving. The food quality, although carby, is fresh and portion controlled. I never gained any weight in the two years I lived in Italy. We also plan to incorporate swimming and hiking into our plans. Instead of looking at this trip as a negative break from my routine, I'm seeing it as a positive way to reward my hard work and keep active in new and refreshing ways! 

Someone needs to lay off the beer.....but it's summer, and it's so good!!!