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I’m preparing for my second half-marathon.  I use the word preparing because I haven’t been following the training schedule at all.  Well, except for the long runs.

I have been struggling – mostly mentally – these last few weeks.  I’m tired.  I’m finding it harder and harder to run during the week.  I’m coming up with excuses why I can’t run.  Sometimes I even feel sorry for myself.


I finished 9 miles last weekend and after I showered and started folding a load of laundry, I felt really good.  I always do after a good run.  I began to ask myself, why am I running?  Why a half-marathon?  The list of reasons came pouring out of me.

I run because:

I can.

it keeps me healthy.

it keeps the weight off.

it’s a good thing for my kids to see me active.

it makes me feel good about myself.

it keeps my head clear.

it makes me feel strong.

because other people who would like to run can’t.

I’ve been running for about 2 years now.  It’s the one thing I know will bring me out of my funk on an off day.

Me? Negative thoughts?  Not as long as I’m still lacing up my shoes.


I won’t bore you with all the details about gaining weight.  We’ve all been there.  I’ve wrote a few blog posts about my weight loss journey.  After a recent trip to my doctor, I thought I would post a picture when I think I was at my heaviest.  (And, after scouring through a gazillion digital pictures tonight looking for one, I realized I am always the one behind the camera.  There are literally 12 pictures of me in the past 7 years.

St. Louis Zoo - 2006

So, here I am.  156 pounds on my 5’4″ frame.  Yikes.

You can read about my running journey here:

And, this brings me to this past Friday.  I had my annual check up with my doctor.  I haven’t seen him in a year.  I rarely get sick.  Or, at least sick enough that I will actually go to the doctor.  So, it had been a while.  I checked in, updated my information, waited in the waiting room.  You know the routine.

The nurse came out to get me, she oohed and aaaahhed appropriately over Jordan who was with me.  Took her back so the office staff could see how cute she was.  And, then it was time to step on the scale.  The scale used to terrify me.  Not anymore.  No surprises, it was 130.  Exactly what mine said this morning.  Onto the exam room.

And, that’s when it got weird.

He shook my hand, shook Jordan’s hand.  Talked to me about the financial crisis happening right now.   Drew a graph.  I actually don’t remember him being this chatty, it was a little strange, but I thought he was taking the time to get to know his patient.  So, whatever.

He pulled out a tape measure and measured my wrist.  (Let me just add, he has never done this before.)

He wrote that measurement down next time my weight.

He looked at my height.  Pulled out a calculator from his desk drawer.

He made some quick calculations.  Pulled out a chart from his desk and said:

“For your height, you should weigh about 120.  So you’re only a little chubby.”

At first, I laughed.  I think out of shock.  He didn’t really just say that, did he?  I’ll be totally honest, it didn’t even really bother me.  He’s an older guy, probably doesn’t care about being PC and according to that chart, I am “a little chubby.”

That was Friday.  Today is Sunday.  And, while I’m not hurt or even mad, I don’t understand how in this day and age we’re still defining our bodies by charts.  He didn’t ask me what I do when I work out (run, weights, other cardio) and I think from 4th grade I learned that muscle weighs more than fat.  Right?

Screw charts.  And for the record, my wrist is the smallest part of my body.  I mean, if he was going to measure the circumference of something, thank god he didn’t pick my thighs.

Have you ever had your wrist measured?  Would you have been offended at the “little chubby” comment?

May 1, 2011

Delta Gamma – Run for Sight

I wanted to mark this day down as the first day Jordan and I ran a 5K together.  After completing my 1/2 marathon, she said she wanted to run a race with me.  I couldn’t say no.

We had a perfect opportunity to support a friend whose daughter has been helped by the Delta Gamma Center.  You can find information about them here:

We couldn’t have asked for a better morning.  The sun was shining, the temperature was just right and we were surrounded by lots of good friends.  But, today was so much more than that.

I was running with my little girl.

She squealed when we started.

She sprinted at first, but quickly realized she couldn’t keep that pace up.

We talked about the tortoise and the hare.

We walked when she needed to walk (which, to be honest wasn’t all that much!).

She beamed when we saw her 1st grade teacher on the corner cheering her on.

And, she finished strong.

Wait, we finished strong.

She finished her first 5K in a little over 46 minutes…15 minute miles for my little 7 year old’s legs.  I am SO proud.

That's Me On The Left!


13.1 miles

2 hours 29 minutes 51 seconds.

April 10, 2011

I used to look at those 13.1 stickers on cars with astonishment.  How could you ever run 13.1 miles at one time?  Without stopping?

I’ll never wonder again.

My first half marathon represents so much more than just a race.

13.1 represents a crowning achievement on my weight loss journey.  It began 2 years after I had my 2nd child.  I stepped on the scale one morning and was none to happy about the number that was staring back at me.  I wasn’t really surprised, I knew what I had been eating (everything).  So, I started walking on a track during my lunch break.  14 times around equaled 2 miles.  Every single day. I incorporated jogging.  I started doing some 5K races.  I changed my diet.  I never completely cut out anything from my diet, I simply ate the serving size.  I lost 30 pounds.

13.1 represents 2 years of finding balance.  Balance between 2 kids, my husband, work, friends and downtime.

13.1 represents strength.  So many days I didn’t feel like doing anything and many days I didn’t.  I didn’t get down on myself.  I did my best with the time I had available.

13.1 represents dedication to myself.  I wasn’t doing this to prove anything to anyone.  I did it for me.  For once, just me.

13.1 also represents heart.  The best part of my 13.1 was coming home and having my daughter ask if she could be in the next race with me.  We’re set to do a 2-mile run on May 1st.  I can’t wait.

To everyone out there reading, if your goal is to lose weight – start small.  Don’t do it for anyone – do it for YOU.  There isn’t a magic diet or a magic pill to lose weight.  Don’t ever tell yourself that you can’t have dessert.  Live your life, just live it responsibly.  Be healthy.  Be realistic with your goals.  Do what you can do.  Don’t get down on yourself.  Be an example for your kids.

13.1 represents pride.


July 2018
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