The turning point for my weight hit when I became pregnant with my third daughter. I had a horrible pregnancy with my second daughter and had recently suffered a miscarriage. My experiences scared me onto the road to skinny, which is a road I’m still traveling. I sacraficed some items from my diet, such as pop/soda, and cut back on sugar. I knew my current weight and past challenging pregnancies would make this a high risk pregnancy. I also began walking at least a mile every day. Some days, I would walk three miles. I wanted this baby and I wanted my current daughters to grow up with one parent. Their father died of Ewing’s Sarcoma when they were an infant and toddler.
I lost weight during my pregnancy. When I delivered our baby, I weighted 9lbs less than when we discovered I was pregnant. I did not want my progress to stop there. I ran cross country during middle school and high school and loved it. For three years, I was the only female runner on the team. I did not care. I just wanted to run. The guys were fun and funny. My fondest memory occurred on my 18th birthday. We ran the conference meet and I learned I could run. I earned all-conference honors, to the surprise of my coach and teammates. Afterward, they sang happy birthday to me at McDonald’s. Cheesy, but awesome to me.
So why join a team if you’re going to be the only girl (although a couple did join later)? My parents battled addictions that challenged their ability to love, parent, and provide. That is all I really have to say about that topic at the moment. Some may completely understand and others will not. Most high school kids sneak out of the house to do the things my parents did. I snuck out of the house every morning at 5am to run 3-5 miles. I felt strong. I felt some control amongst a storm out of my control. After delivering my last daughter, I wanted to feel that again.
I added running into my walking routine. I knew I had to start slow to avoid injury and not burn out. Despite knowing to start slowly, I wanted fast results. Running 12-13 minute miles ranked unacceptable, yet I could not seem to build speed or run more than a mile or two. The push I needed to overcome my slump came when my grandmother died. She was my partner in crime. Don’t get the image of a cookie making, babysitting grandma. That was not mine. My grandma loved to gamble. She had a QVC habit that wouldn’t quit. She loved to be the center of attention to such a degree she tried to dance hiphop at my wedding reception. I spoke with her every day and visited often. Losing her left a huge void in my life that I had to fill. I pushed harder as a result of my grief and broke through the barriers.
I ran my first 8k with a 10 minute mile. I registered for a half marathon. My running passion reignited.
So the summary of this story is:
*If you want to lose weight, get pregnant! If you want to stay skinny, join an all-male team! If you want to be missed greatly, shake your butt to any type of music and often!
Or, if you have to be serious, lose weight by getting active, giving up bad food/drinks, and letting your feet pound out stress on the pavement.
fortheloveofrunningandbacon 