Summer is Different This Year

July 10, 2020 / Cassie / Leave a comment

The past few summers have been a shit show. I mean, I’m sure there’s a better way to put it, but why sugar coat it. They were.

There’s the summer three years ago when I sat around every single day trying to find the courage to tell my husband that I was leaving. The amount of stress and exhaustion were enough to kill me…and I’m pretty sure they almost did.

There’s the summer two years ago where I was still scared of doing anything wrong. Anything at all that could make me somehow lose my kids. And the guilt of leaving was still so fresh that I constantly gave in to unhealthy behaviors simply to stay afloat.

Last summer was the worst. Going through the divorce and custody battle caused my anxiety to be at an all time high. I was nervous going anywhere even when I didn’t have the kids because something could go wrong. I couldn’t make one wrong decision or one single misstep because it could come back to bit me in the ass. I actually think I have slight PTSD from my custody/divorce battle. I actually had to turn my email notifications off my phone because hearing the ding reminded me of all the emails from my lawyer and I actually start to shut down.

This is the first summer where I finally feel free. Free to go on vacations with and without the kids. Free to make decisions without constantly worrying about what someone else might think or make an issue of. Free to mention Joe’s name without worrying about the repercussions.

It’s an amazing feeling, but you know what’s funny? It’s almost like a piece of me is missing now. I held on to all that worry, all that anxiety, all that anger for so long, that there is a void. What do I worry about now? What do I think about now? What should I do now?

Luckily, it’s still summer and for the first time in forever I can allow myself to find these answers. I can allow myself to figure out who I am or who I want to be. And most importantly I can actually allow myself to breathe.

The Resolute Quitter

December 28, 2018 / Cassie / 1 Comment

Someone once told me that to write I need to write about what I know. Luckily that’s all I know how to write about anyway.

In the past four years I’ve quit every thing I’ve started. You name it, I’ve attempted it…and then quit. Run streaks? I quit by week two. Running? I used to run 25 – 30 miles a week, and now I’m lucky if I even walk two. I’ve signed up (and wasted a LOT of money) on countless 5Ks, half marathons, and marathons only to quit about half way through…when I had decided that it got too hard. Being more environmental? I’m pretty sure I threw away a pile of paper yesterday instead of recycling it because the recycling was full and I just needed it out of my house. Hell, I’ve even quit my marriage. At this point the only thing I haven’t quit is my job, but I did switch schools so maybe that counts?

I wasn’t always this way. As a matter of fact, I used to be exactly the opposite. I would make a plan and resolutely stick with it, no matter the consequence or if it was the best decision in the long run. I was just that stubborn. I would see it through to the end even if it killed me. I used to think this was one of my biggest character flaws, but now I’m not so sure. The tenacity that would once push me over the finish line has now been replaced with apathy and indifference. I would do anything to get it back.

Maybe I’ve spent so much time quitting lately that it’s just what seems normal and comfortable now. I’m used to it. It’s familiar. It’s has the feeling of that soft, comfy shirt that is completely stained and threadbare. You need to throw it away. You want to throw it away. And yet, you can’t bring yourself to do it. As if parting with that one thing is going to increase your sadness even more than it already is.

Fear has become such a major part of my life over the past few years that it is literally ingrained in my soul. The fear of failure keeps me from making the big leaps. The fear of judgment keeps me from making the choices I know I need to make, the choices that are the best for me. Fear of retribution keeps me on my feet at all times…constantly looking over my shoulder and waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’ve spent so much of the last few years of my life being scared that I have barely lived at all. I’ve made so many goals and had so many things I want to accomplish which have all been brushed aside because of fear. And I don’t want to do that anymore.

If you know me at all, you know I love New Year’s. The blank slate, the new beginnings, the chance to start again all resonate with me on a deeply pure and spiritual level. I tend to make resolutions, grandiose goals, and big decisions all to have me eventually quit. I just can’t keep living my life like that anymore. I think this year I’m going to dump the resolutions. The changes I want to make within myself are big. Every single thing I want to change about myself I can control. And I don’t need resolutions or a New Year to do that. I can just do it. Plain and simple. It’s really that easy.

Of course, coming up with the idea to do something is the easy part. The hard part is the follow through…and that’s exactly what I plan to work on first.

The other day, as we were driving through the city on the way home, two runners crossed in front of our car. Joe’s immediate response was about how it was cold and they were outside running and that they were wearing shorts. It’s true, it was about 25 degrees…it was cold. But all I felt was the formidable tug of nostalgia. I remember thinking that I wish I was a runner. Or more clearly, I wish I was still a runner.

So you know what? I’m going to become one again.

The Scaries

March 11, 2018 / Cassie / Leave a comment

I think maybe I’m having a mid life crisis. I’m only 37, so I sincerely hope not. Since I don’t really know when midlife is, maybe I’m just always in crisis. That sounds a bit more like it.

Happiness in some life aspects seems to be taking its toll and I’m struggling lately. While my “relationship” with my ex is always in turmoil, my other key relationships seem to be working rather nicely. It took me a long time to actually feel confident in my life with Joe. Seeing as both of us were with other people when we decided to be together, the constant wondering if he’d rather be back with her was always in my mind. Now, not so much. I’ve accepted the fact that he wants to be with me and with that acceptance it feels like a giant weight has been lifted.

Additionally, my relationships with my kids has never been better. While I wish I could see them every day, I do get them for 5 days a week so I know I am lucky. When they are with me there’s not a lot of emotional breakdowns. There’s the age appropriate ones of course, but no more of the tantrums and fits where I would contemplate calling a priest for an exorcism. Without all of the hostility and toxic air that Mike and I would spew around the house, they are thriving and I love having this daily reminder that I did the right thing even though it was incredibly hard.

But now, in the absence of these major life instances to worry about, I actually feel a loss. One might think that now that I have these things worked out, it’s time to reflect on other items that may have been plaguing me but that I’ve brushed aside. Yes, this is probably true, but I feel like it’s more than that. It’s almost as if I’m scared of happiness. That I look at myself being content and happy and immediately begin to wait for the other shoe to drop. I begin to worry about not being worried about something so I find something to worry about (the ever present vicious cycle). I think that’s why lately I have been so focused and seemingly unhappy in my career.

For me, the Sunday scaries seem to be a thing of the past…because now they begin on Friday night. I spend my entire weekend with the idea and unhappiness of going back to work on Monday looming in my mind. AND. I. HATE. IT. I find new causes and excitements each day. I get excited about buying in bulk and reducing my plastic usage. I get excited about making muffins with a new recipe. I even get excited about starting a new book. But I can’t get excited about going to work.

Don’t get me wrong, when I get there it really isn’t that bad. I love my students. I love feeling like I’m making a difference, at least in the life of one child but ever since I switched schools my enthusiasm for teaching at all has gone lower and lower with each passing day. Yes, I always felt stressed about teaching and my job…but in a way that everyone does. This year is different. I feel like an outsider in this school, locked away in my own little corner, almost as if no one expects me to stay so no one makes the effort. Everything seems so competitive, almost as if you can only do well if you are doing better than someone else. It’s completely exhausting.

At Collington I was never really a favorite. I did my job and I did it well and for that I fell under the radar (not extremely motived to do everything in the school, but also not drowning). I knew the families and they knew me. And I had people. There’s something about working in a school in an atmosphere like that one. You need people. You are not going to make it without people. You band together because you know they get it. I don’t have people at my new school and that makes it rather lonely. That, topped with a complete lack of any praise EVER makes it a hard environment to work in day in a day out.

So I stress. And I stew. And I worry. I deliberate. I panic…literally. And then I tell myself every single morning as I walk out that door that if it gets to be too much, I can quit. Or I quietly remind myself that I only have a certain amount of days left of this year and next year is sure to be better. And these two things seem to be all that is getting me through.

I don’t know why I allow myself to be consumed with the stress of this job ALL THE TIME. I have to stop. I spend roughly 7.5 hours there each day. That translates to 35.5 hours at work. That’s it. Barely a blip on the 168 hours that are in a week. And yet I spend the rest of those hours worried about work! And the saddest part of all? I’m a 37 year old woman and I keep worrying about if I’m doing a good job. That’s it. No one tells me I’m not. But no one tells me I am.

This is ridiculous. I have to be more present in the moment with my kids. I have to focus more on the good things than stress that is ever present. I have to stop letting 35.5 hours dictate the rest of my time.

Complacency, Love, and the Weather

July 13, 2016 / Cassie / Leave a comment

As is too often with these posts, I start by saying…it’s been too long since I have written anything new. I could blame work, school, kids, life, but really that would only be the icing on a cake too tall to tackle. The real problem is myself and even that is not enough to explain what has happened to me over the past few months. As is usually the case I am torn between being happy (complacent) with the life I have and wanting (needing) something more.

While I feel like I say it every year, this one, by far, has been the hardest one to navigate. Between friendships found, and lost, and found, the bumpy and panic inducing ride that is 11 years of marriage, losing and finding myself over and over again, and simply finding time to breathe through it all, I feel like I’ve been broken and put back together so many times that I wonder if all my pieces have survived.

I wonder, sometimes, if my biggest problem is more simple than I realize. That maybe my expectations for people and their behaviors are simply too high. Mostly, I feel that people will never meet mine and am forever doomed to sit and silence and ponder if it’s them or me. And yet, why ponder? I know it’s me. I simply assume everyone puts forth the same amount of everything I do: love, effort, understanding, movement, change. And when they don’t I am undoubtably dissapointed. “They” say expectation is the root of all heartache and this is something I wholeheartedly believe. But do we give up, accept this, and work to assimilate to the “others”; the ones that we feel are disappointing us? Decide to live in quiet complacency, knowing we could have it worse? That maybe if we just let things go, decide to give up what we feel we need, that we could live an almost happy life?

Or do we simply wait? Wait for the changes we are asking for. Wait for love we know we need and deserve. Wait for a life we know we are not going to simply exist in…but actually live in.

The conundrum exists: do you hope for the hurricane or simply enjoy the calm and still air of almost? Sometimes, the hurricane is worth it. It’s beautiful and perfect in its power and destruction, changing the landscape of your life forever, tearing down the extraneous walls you’ve built up to keep things out (or in). Other times it simply destroys everything, coming and going in meer moments, leaving an empty hole where something stable (maybe not profound or amazing), but stable used to be.

I’m watching people take these leaps and bounds in their lives and am becoming completely envious. Picking up and moving away. Finding a new and meaningful job. Leaving behind a mediocre life for a great one. For a while, it was hard to watch their journey because of the jealousy. What luck to get exactly what you want; what you’ve been hoping for. They made it looked so easy. But now, I know it is their bravery I covet. The sheer courage to say “This is what I want and I’m going to go for it.” They decided take some action instead of sitting around and talking, wondering, or even writing about it. Taking the risk in the hurricane, even if it destroys everything.

No matter how much back and forth I do in these situations, deep down, I know what it is that I want.

And it’s time to go and buy an umbrella.

I think I can’t

March 12, 2016 / Cassie / 1 Comment

After two long months of injury, I’ve started running again. Every morning when my alarm wakes me up at the ungodly hour of 4:30 am, I throw on my running clothes and head out the door…and it sucks. Not just in a way that all running sucks, but in a very real, painful, and depressing way.

My shin and my knee is still killing me. And because of that I’m running all kinds of crazy causing other muscles to hurt. My pace time is abysmal…and I don’t mean in the “I run a 13 minute mile, I’m so slow” way, but in an actual “people walk faster than I run” way. And it’s killing me inside.

I don’t know if it’s the extra stress I have going on at work or simply the extra street I have going on at home (or maybe it’s a combination of both), but I can’t seem to get motivated to go any faster or do anymore. I literally plod on and on and on praying that I get finished the run soon.

Yes, I feel great after. Yes, I feel accomplished. But the before and during are worse than they were when I first started.

And to top it off, I have a hard marathon in 10 weeks and I and scared out of my fucking mind. I’m already having anxiety attacks about it and it’s 2.5 months away. I don’t think I can do this. I will be nowhere near ready. I am going to fail. And it’s going to suck. Big time.

I hate this feeling of inadequacy. I hate the lack of self confidence I have.

But I hate more that I’m pretty sure I’m right about this.

The Last Supper…

April 20, 2015 / Cassie / Leave a comment

“Abandon all hope ye who enter here.” ~Dante

As you may or may not have read here (depending on if you follow my self involved ramblings on my blog), I entered the lottery for the TCS NYC Marathon…and was accepted. I won’t go into much detail because the whole story is listed on the link above, but I have to say that each day I float between elation and crippling fear.

It sounded like a great idea in January. It was still 11 months away. The chances of me getting in, especially for the first time, was slim to none. I was safely encased in my pregnancy…a legitimate excuse not to run or really train for that matter so I wasn’t injured, or ultra tired (except for being pregnant), or broke because of race entry fees. But now, I’m 12 days post baby and the marathon is 196 days away. 28 weeks. Approximately 7 months. As the little one and I blog together this evening I can’t help but wonder if I wasn’t completely insane for even considering this.

Insanity, is of course, a relative term. This is going to be tough, no doubt about it. But I’m itching to get started again. As of Friday I am down 20 pounds since my last pregnancy visit…that’s actually 3 pounds less than my lowest weight pre-pregnancy. It’s definitely motivating.

But, for the past 12 days I’ve also kind of let myself go. It’s been nice to have wine. It’s been nice to eat more than a few bites without feeling full. It’s been nice to not have heartburn with EVERY SINGLE FOOD that I eat. And really…should we even mention the Easter candy that is finally gone (with much of my help). But not anymore. This week-end has been a “last supper” if you will. I went a little more indulgent, a little more unhealthy, a last hoorah of bad decisions before jumping in wholeheartedly.

It’s time though. I’ve had my share of wine, sugar and fried food. I’m ready to get back on the wagon and really put my heart and soul into this training, eating healthier, and really moving forward with my life. I could say that it’s all about the marathon, but really, it’s more than that. I now have three beautiful, wonderful kids that I want to be around for for many years to come. I’m not only training for a marathon, I’m training for life.

Tonight I raise my glass…to me and all I’m going to accomplish this year, especially the NYC Marathon. Even if I’m last I’m going to kick some ass.

This week’s training goal: 20 miles walking at a rigorous pace

Everything you want is on the other side of fear

April 7, 2015 / Cassie / 1 Comment

“Do one thing every day that scares you.”~ Eleanor Roosevelt

Fear. It inhabits us in some form every day. This post could be about how I’m about to give birth for the third time tomorrow. And of course, this terrifies me.

This post could be about how I’m about to be a mother of three kids instead of two and I have no idea how I’m really going to do it, let alone, having no idea how to parent a girl. And of course, this terrifies me.

But this isn’t about that. Those things are fear inducing, yes, but I know I can do it. So, while the fear is there, it’s not “real”, it’s not tangible. No matter what, I will succeed at this because failure is not an option.

This post isn’t about that kind of fear. It’s not about the fear you have when you know you will survive. It’s about the fear you have when you jump head first into something you’ve never done before, something you don’t even know if you can do, something where there is essentially no safety net. This post is about jumping headfirst into something you have a 98% chance of failing at…and doing it anyway.

While this post isn’t about my pregnancy, per se, it definitely is impacted by it. For most of my life, I have suffered from insomnia. I don’t sleep a lot and I don’t sleep well. This can be rather helpful as a parent, though when pregnancy induced insomnia rears its ugly head and you are getting 4 hours of sleep as a pregnant woman, a mom, and a kindergarten teacher, reason seems to go out the window. And that is essentially where we begin.

Because it was this pregnancy induced insomnia that lead me to be on Twitter at 3 am on a random January “morning”. And it was this sleeplessness that had me on the New York Road Runners website scouting out some post-baby races. And it was this incredible exhaustion that had me reminiscing about how much I loved running and couldn’t wait to get back to it. And it was this amazing weariness of both mind and body that led to the major lack of judgement when I entered the lottery to run in the TCS NYC Marathon.

I knew the chances of getting in via lottery were super slim. I knew less than 10% of people are accepted. So I put the phone down, attempted to go back to sleep and put it out of my mind.

And it was. I went about my life. I ran intermittently. I started a a new Girls on the Run group. I parented and taught and my life went forward as it always did.

Until March 3rd. When somehow, in some strange twist of fate, I received this e-mail:

At first I couldn’t breath. Then I was excited. Then I was downright petrified. How the hell was I going to do this? I barely made it through my half marathon in October. At 5 months pregnant I could barely manage to talk by the end of it, let alone have completed another 13.1 miles. Not only did I take a spot from a real runner, someone who dreams of the NYC marathon the way I pregnantly dream about cake and wine, but if I decided to go through with this, I was ultimately going to fail.

And for the past month, all I could think about was the fact that I was going to fail at this. That I should drop out. That I should quit so I could just stop worrying. Then today I woke up and thought, maybe I wouldn’t. Sure, there is a 98% percent chance that I would fail, that I won’t be able to finish the marathon. But how will I know until I try. I began making a list of the reasons I might not fail. I began making a list so I could see that glimmer of hope in the 2%. And while I was only really able to come up with 2 things, here they are:

1. I was able to finish a half marathon at 5 months pregnant. I had barely trained because the beginning of my pregnancy had been emotionally and physically challenging. I had finished the half in 4 hours with running very little of it. The time limit for the TCS NYC Marathon is 8 hours. With the proper training, there is a chance I can do this, even if I come in dead last.

2. I was able to accomplish this (and this, and this). And somehow, it seems, when I make up my mind to do something, I don’t let anything stand in my way.

When I really began thinking about it, I realized my fear was mostly about what the “others” would think. What would my real runner friends think? What would my everyday friends think? Would any of them think I could do it? Would any of them tell me to my face that I could totally do it, but then think negatively behind my back?

And did any of that really matter? They weren’t running this thing, I was. And that’s when I had my answer. I was going to do it. I might fail, I might not. But that’s not really the important part. The important part is the idea that I could try.

I would try. 2% and all, I would try.

See you in November, NYC.

Until we meet again…

December 13, 2014 / Cassie / Leave a comment

“You shouldn’t feel guilty about taking time for yourself. Every so often, everyone needs to give themselves a big ol’ bear hug and treat themselves to some TLC.” ~Sean Covey

I feel like this every year, at least once, but especially around this time. The crushing feeling of being overwhelmed by the shear force of life. I’d like to think that it’s simply because of crunch time at work. I’d like to think it’s just because of the amount of money needed to sustain a family through the holidays. I’d like to think it’s the looming deadline of baby 3 approaching quicker than I can prepare. I’d like to think that it’s the idea of endings and beginnings coming in a few short weeks.

I’d like to think it’s just one of these things. But in reality it’s all of them…happening at the exact same time.

I tend to have problems feeling overwhelmed. I can’t even go to places like Target during busy times because I immediately just want to shut down and get completely exhausted at the thought. I wish I handled stress better. I wish in the almost 34 years I have been alive, I would understand what to do in these situations, before they even get overwhelming.

I feel like I’ve lost my way. I’ve been yelling way too much, trying to escape way too much, instead of getting to the root of why I feel this way and actually doing something about it. I haven’t been that nice to my family. I’ve haven’t been that nice to my friends. I haven’t been that nice to myself. I simply haven’t been the person that I want to be, the person I know I can be.

I’m caught up, once again, with the feelings of inadequacy, longing, and simply “keeping up” with those around me instead of living my life in the simple way, with the simple moments that I crave so much.

It’s time to take a break, from all the competition, the Facebook syndromes, the constant need to be the best. It’s time to refocus on the important things. As I tell my students, I need to “worry about me” instead of constantly worrying about what is going on around me.

I need to stop thinking that if I’m not constantly “connected” that I am going to miss something important. It’s because I’m so overly connected that I actually AM missing the important things that are going on all around me.

Hello. My name is quitter.

November 24, 2014 / Cassie / Leave a comment

“Life is painful and messed up. It gets complicated at the worst of times, and sometimes you have no idea where to go or what to do. Lots of times people just let themselves get lost, dropping into a wide open, huge abyss. But that’s why we have to keep trying. We have to push through all that hurts us, work past all our memories that are haunting us. Sometimes the things that hurt us are the things that make us strongest. A life without experience, in my opinion, is no life at all. And that’s why I tell everyone that, even when it hurts, never stop yourself from living.” ~Alysha Speer

I’m feeling lost and have no idea how I am going to find myself again. I feel transient, almost as if I am actually just on the outside looking in. I used to feel so put together. I used to feel like I had a purpose. I used to feel whole. I used to know who I was and now I simply have no clue.

I’ve been feeling this way for a while. The more I try to think about why I’m feeling this way, the more confused and lost I feel.

It may have to do with being pregnant. I have to admit, when I first found out I was pregnant I wasn’t thrilled. I had recently found running and had based some of my identity on being a runner (albeit a slow one). I was really worried about how this was going to affect my running. I realize it didn’t have to, but I was so worried about the beginning stages of pregnancy, that I let it. I have almost completely stopped running and without the running my mood has quickly gone sour. I am complaining more. Quitting more. Whining more. Being pessimistic more. And I hate it.

I’ve been letting my role of “mother” take away from all the other roles I love to play: runner, inspirer, friend, wife. And the worst part is, I’ve been letting myself let myself. Yet, when I try to reverse this, when I try to get back to the way things are, I can’t.

It’s not that I don’t know how. I know exactly the steps I need to take. I know exactly what I need to do. But I don’t do it. I make plans. Then I can’t take the steps.

I know I need to get up and run. I just need to do it. And then my alarm goes off in the morning and I go back to sleep, knowing full well that I am going to hate myself in the morning, that I’m going to feel crappier than if I missed that hour of sleep due to running.

Just yesterday, my 3 year old asked me why I don’t go running anymore. Even he has noticed. Even he has seen the effects of my slacked attitude. It’s not just me. It’s not me being oversensitive to the situation.

I feel discouraged because I am so much slower now than I was. I felt like quitting when I realized I wasn’t getting faster, but slower instead. And instead of continually getting slower, I let myself quit altogether.

When I try to explain this to people, I usually get the “It’s ok, because you’re pregnant.” So I sigh and am inwardly happy that I have a “legitimate” excuse that I can use instead of what the real reason is: “I’m scared and I don’t want to fail more than I have so I simply won’t try.” I’m letting pregnancy be my excuse because it’s there, not because it’s the truth. I’m letting it be my excuse because to the outside world, it’s one that is allowed.

But to me it’s not. I’ve come to far to let this go. I’ve overcome heartache and muscle aches and sore everything and yet still kept going. I don’t want to resent my newest little because I quit and blamed it on being pregnant with her. I don’t want this to be who I am to her and the rest of my family. I don’t want this to be who I am, period.

I need to remember who I was. I need to find me again.

The Truth Will Set You Free

June 21, 2014 / Cassie / Leave a comment

“Let’s start at the very beginning. A very good place to start.” ~Maria (The Sound of Music)

While I may not always see myself that way, people have told me I am inspiring and motivating. Really, these are the best compliments I have ever gotten. If me getting my lazy butt off the couch helps someone else get moving, that is awesome. I tend to be an “over poster” on Facebook but I figured by starting another blog, a place where people can come to get inspired, it could help alleviate some of that traffic.

I’ve been trying to write this post for about a week now, but never seem to know how to start. As with most major life changes, starting always seems to be the problem. Running, writing, working out, completing projects…once I’m in the middle I know I’ll finish, but that’s only if I am able to get past “the starting”.

But here goes: my story.

I guess you could say it all began with a trip to Oregon. I was heading out there for an educational conference. At first I was excited. A trip to the West Coast with a bunch of friends from work and a few days off from the kids to go along with it. What’s not to love?

Then I remembered that I would have to take an airplane. Then I remembered I would have to fit into an airplane seat and buckle my seat belt. Then I remembered every single article I have ever come across about airlines who kick people off the plane for being too fat. Images of Kevin Smith came swimming to the forefront of my consciousness. Suddenly, I remembered that maybe I would miss my kids and I shouldn’t go after all.

I belonged to a gym, joined in some arbitrary moment of “I can do this!” but at that point my workouts consisted of the 3 minutes I could stand on the elliptical or treadmill and then 30 minutes on the sit down bike. Throw in a couple of easy strength exercises on the machines, and I thought I was actually accomplishing something. The fear of getting on the plane and being embarrassed in front of people I had to work with motivated me to do something I had never done before…buy a scale.

After searching for what seemed like hours at a K-mart next to the gym, I finally found one. I raced home, carried it up to the bathroom, and after ripping off every ounce of clothing and all hair accessories that could add weigh (I actually contemplated cutting my hair), I gingerly stepped on the scale.

331.

No, that is not a typo. That was the actual number. And while I didn’t want it to be true, I knew it was. I sat down on the bathroom floor and cried for about 10 minutes. How had it gotten this bad? How had I let myself get this far gone? Once I got control of myself, I got up, got dressed, and came up with a plan. That summer I worked my butt off and in two months (right before my flight) I had lost 20 pounds. I know that’s not a lot, but to me it was everything. It represented that I could actually do this.

Long story short, they didn’t kick me off the plane, though I did need a seat belt extender. But the heart wrenching fear I felt as I approached that first plane was probably the worst in my life. I didn’t sleep for nearly a week. I vowed that I would continue working out when I got home and would get myself to a healthy place.

And I did. For awhile. Until once again, life got in the way. That fall I worked out here and there, but nothing significant. Between two kids under 3, teaching kindergarten, and trying to be a good wife and mother, I never seemed to find time for the gym. Finally in January, after realizing I had gained back 12 pounds (bringing me back up to 321) a friend and I decided to sign up for the Y-fit challenge (the YMCA’s version of the biggest loser). And through that I fell in love with working out. I lost about 35 pounds, completed (walked) my first 5-K and began to gain back some of the confidence I so desperately needed.

And then, as most stories go, my world turned upside down. During the summer (on my last day of school) my dad died. We had a rather tumultuous relationship and hadn’t communicated in years. Because of this, I didn’t think his death would really affect me. But it did. In ways that I will never quite understand. And the gym took a back burner yet again. Luckily, I only gained about 5 pounds, but by the time school started again, I was a jumbled wreck. I didn’t know what was up or down or right or wrong. All I knew was that I needed something to change. I needed to be saved.

So I went for a run. And really, that is the true beginning of my story. Because on that day I was reborn. I learned that I can decide how my life is going to go. I am in charge of myself, my decisions, and my happiness. I can decide to begin to heal, and grow, and change for the better. And I did. Or, at the very least I’m in the process. In January, on the eve of my 33 birthday, I hit my 60 pound mark. And I’m still going.

Over the months I ran occasionally, went to the gym, got injured, and then began again and again. I started and stopped so many times that I can’t even keep track. The most important thing? Every time I stopped, I started again. I remember the first day I was able to complete one mile without stopping. I remember the first 5k I was able to completely run. Just recently I completed my first 10k.

I was looking back on old pictures today. Pictures from pre-kids, pictures from post-kids, pictures from last year, last week, last month and I can’t believe the difference. It’s not even just the weight, but the confidence, the happiness, the fact that there are more pictures now than there were before. These are all indicators that maybe this time is the right time. Maybe I’m finally exactly where I need to be.

Some days running feels so easy. Others, I want to die. I’m faster than I used to be, but still super slow. But I am a real runner. We all are. Even those that don’t run because the potential to run is in there.

And at 263 pounds I am currently running about 20 miles a week and training for my first half marathon in the fall. While I still have so far to go, I’ve never felt better. I’m ready to begin this new chapter in my life.

I had to start and stop, begin and end, give up and keep going, numerous times to get to this point.

But if I can do it, so can anyone. If I can do it, so can you.

Grace Before Perfection

Mom. Teacher. Wanna-be most things. Lover of almost everything except talking on the phone. Oh, and I read a lot of books. Like an unhealthy amount.

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