Well guys, I did it! I finished my first (and likely last) half marathon! I’d be lying if I said it was easy. It was harder than childbirth. For that matter, it was harder than pregnancy. With twins. In the summer.
The race began at 7:00 am last Sunday in front of the state capital. It was cold. Scratch that – it was freezing! 35 degrees out and you’re in that place where you don’t want to be cold now, but when it warms up as it always does in South Louisiana you don’t want to be hot. Some people literally just threw their outer layers on the ground as they ran, but this fat chick has a very limited wardrobe and I’ll be damned if some homeless person is going to get my Under Armor knockoff pullover from JC Penney! I smartly did not wear my fleece lined running pants (boy was THAT a mistake when I ran the Goldenfliers 5 miler in November).
In any event, I ended up meeting some super nice slow paced gals like me! We off and on ran together throughout the entire race. I vaguely remember their names as being Sarah and Jamie but who knows. Sadly, we did not finish together and I have no way of contacting them to see how they did. I hope they finished strong!
The race went through downtown Baton Rouge, over the big overpass on North (twice!!), through the garden district area, down sorority row, around the lakes and through parts of the Lakeshore neighborhoods and back downtown for the finish. It was supposedly a scenic route that showcased all the beauty Louisiana has to offer – I wouldn’t know. Had I been driving the 13 miles I am sure I would have thought it lovely, but as it was I was in survival mode and not sightseeing mode.
There were water stops every mile or so. Big props to the LSU Lacrosse Team (who knew LSU even had a Lacrosse team) for being so enthusiastic at mile 11. And high five to the group by city park (can’t for the life of me remember their name but it was some women’s athlete foundation) who made me cry with their “Pain is temporary, Pride is forever” poster.
Around mile 9, I started to get blisters on the arch of my right foot and between my toes. This sounds pitiful, I know, but it hurts worse than you’d think. I was practically bleeding into my socks by the end and unfortunately had to walk more than I planned near the end. Once I hit the 13 mile marker I figured I’d give the last 0.1 miles (it’s soooo much farther than it sounds, really) all I had. I’m no runner, this much we all know. I have short legs and I am sort of round in shape, but that last stretch I felt like I was in the freaking Olympics. At that point it became much less about surviving and more about doing it for the people in my life who can’t. I went from being oblivious to all my surroundings to seeing every leaf on every tree and every crack on the pavement. And in that last stretch I thought about my friend Amanda who I miss so much every day. And I thought about my friend Brandy in Tennessee who is dealing with so much more than any of us could ever have the strength to handle with the grace that she does. These are women who are the same age as I am who have really had trials in their lives. And in those moments, all the times I felt sorry for myself were gone and every second when I thought I could never do something like this was over.
You always hear people ask “Why do you run?” and hear people answer with “Because I can.” I never got it before then. Sure, I can eat an entire pizza but that doesn’t mean I’m going to do it (or am I?). But it makes so much sense now. It really is so much more than a physical journey. It’s a spiritual one. At least it was for me. It didn’t start out that way – there was a lot of blood, sweat and tears – but somewhere near the end of the 13 miles it began to be a lot less about time and more about just finishing it. And I did.
Remember how I mentioned before about running one lap around the gym and checking the scale to see if I lost any weight? Well even after running 13-mother-effing-miles I still hadn't lost any weight. I'm not complaining, I'm just saying that my little mind thought, "Kristyn, it's ludicrous to think that running a lap will result in weight loss. Don't be silly. But maybe 13 miles...." Wrong.
In food news (my most favorite kind!), the diet is….well it is. I’ll say this much: the 17 Day Diet works. All diets work, really, provided that you stick with them. That’s the catch. I hate hearing “such and such diet doesn’t work”. If you’re saying that you probably quit it and that’s why it didn’t work. A better way to say it is “such and such diet was not a good fit for my lifestyle”. That is a more accurate statement. Weight Watchers isn’t something that fits my lifestyle – I’ve seen it work over and over again, but it just doesn’t integrate with the pace of my life now. Anyway, the 17 Day Diet promises fast results and it delivers. I started it on Tuesday last week and by Friday I had lost 7 pounds! At which point I promptly fell off the wagon and ordered pizza for dinner.
Even eating like crap (albeit in moderation) all weekend I maintained 6.6 of the 7 pounds I lost. The thing is it’s hard. Like real hard. Part of that is because I don’t eat a wide variety of foods. The staples of phase 1 of this program are chicken and fish. Guess what. I don’t eat fish. At all. So nothing but chicken and veggies for 17 days? I’ve modified it somewhat to be a cross between Atkins and 17DD and I’m still seeing losses though not as quickly. I’ve been cutting waaay back on the carbs but not cutting them out completely and I’m having lean beef sometimes instead of just the chicken. But it’s still a step – no a leap – in the right direction for me. We’ll have to see how bad I do when we go to Disneyworld in a few weeks…perhaps all the walking will counteract some of the eating??
I also started the program outlined in The New Rules of Lifting for Women yesterday. I finally stopped being sore from last weekend’s race and now I’m sore all over again. But it promises to tone and sculpt me so we shall see! I really missed going to the gym (no screaming kids there) so it was a nice reunion yesterday. Of course the workout regiment builds muscle, which - say it with me, everyone – weighs more than fat. (I swear I am going to punch the next person who says that to me.) I’m likely to see the scale stall if not go up at first but I’m trying not to let that deter me. It’s a catch 22 to get on the scale every morning. On one hand I want to see the loss so I can feel good about how well-behaved I was the day before. On the other hand, not seeing a loss or worse yet seeing a gain will throw me into “why am I working so hard for nothing I’m going to eat 1000 calories of cheese” mode. I’m thinking I need to stay off it for a while. After being so good yesterday I went up a pound this morning. Seriously?
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