Insanity. {Here's to a healthy, happier, skinnier me!}

I am coming up on the 10 year anniversary of me graduating High School.  10 YEARS!  Saying that out loud makes me feel more old than anything else I can possibly say.  {Besides saying that on my next birthday I will be 29.  Let's not talk about that today.}

There have been many things about me that have changed the past 10 years.  My hair.  {approx. 30 times}  My taste in clothes.  My views on almost everything.  My friends.  My status.  My role in life.  {mama now!}  My name.  So many things.  But the biggest change?  That would be my weight.

When I graduated High School I was 5'7" and barely 118 lbs.  Obviously, I was skinny.  Incredibly skinny.  According to my height and frame the healthy weight for a 5'7" female is 133-147 lbs.  So yeah, I was skinny.  I had even had people seriously question me about eating disorders.  I assure you, the only eating disorder that I had was a problem with funyons and Krispy Kreme donuts.  You would never know that by looking at me.

February 2003.  18 years old.

Fast forward 10 years and I have gained way too much weight.  I mean, way.  Yes, I have had a child.  But that is no excuse.  Millions of women have had children and they are in fabulous shape.  No excuse.  AND I was overweight before I had my child!  I have roughly been the same weight {give or take 10-15 pound variance} for the past 5-6 years.  Heck, even when I was pregnant I only gained 23 pounds.  I have friends who gained 80 pounds and bounced right back to looking like a super model.

10 Years later.  September 2012.  {I won't even say how many pounds heavier.}

My problem is laziness.  I have never been a super active person.  I do not enjoy working out.  At all.  Physical activity is stupid.  If I am going to break a sweat, you can count me out.  No thanks.

I also love junk food.  I love greasy, deep-fried, sugar-coated, glazed, chocolately, fruity... you name it.  I love junk food.

When you combine the laziness and the love of junk food, you have a problem.  That problem is called BODY FAT.

I have been so sick of it, for so long.  I can't even tell you how many times I have laid in my bed crying because I am so unhappy with my physical appearance.  It's embarrassing.  I am done.  I am done being overweight.  I am done feeling bad about myself.  I am done hating my body.  When I was in High School I didn't have confidence issues.  I wasn't unhappy with my appearance.  I didn't even question what people were thinking about my body or my looks.  I was just fine.  I am not that way today.

The nice thing about weight {the only nice thing} is that you can lose it.  I can stop being lazy.  I can change my eating habits.  I can get healthy and I can lose weight.  I just need to stick with it.

That's the plan.  Stick with it.  Get healthy.  Lose weight.  BE HAPPY WITH MYSELF.

Kyle and I have started the workout program called Insanity.  It is just that.  Insane.  We are only 4 days in and I am SO INCREDIBLY SORE.

After Day 3.  What you can't see is the sweat running down my face.

I have been tracking everything I eat on an app called "My Fitness Pal".  This helps me stay on track with my daily calorie intake and it helps me think twice before having that piece of candy that I might be craving.

I am so hoping that I will be able to stick with it this time.  I want to be healthy and I want to be happy.  I want my husband to be proud of me and how I look.  {Not that he isn't, he has never said that he isn't happy with me or my looks.  FYI.}  I want to be confident.  I want it now.  I know it won't happen overnight.  It's going to take a lot of hard work and a lot of dedication and determination.  But gosh dang it, I CAN DO IT!

Here's to a healthier, happier, skinnier me!  CHEERS!  Xoxo

{JUST SO WE'RE ALL CLEAR:  I am not trying to get back to my 18-year-old weight.  118 pounds is not my goal.  I realize that I am a grown woman now and I do not expect to look like a teenager.  My goal is to be at a HEALTHY weight.  Healthy, healthy, healthy!}

Totally stealing this from Amy...

Another month long blog challenge!  YAY!  I enjoyed my first one so much that I cannot wait to dive into this one!

Day 01 - Introduce Yourself


Day 02 - Your First Love

Day 03 - Your Parents

Day 04 - What You Ate Today

Day 05 - Your Definition Of Love

Day 06 - Your Day

Day 07 - Your Best Friend

Day 08 - A Moment

Day 09 - Your Beliefs

Day 10 - What You Wore Today

Day 11 - Your Siblings

Day 12 - What's In Your Bag

Day 13 - This Week

Day 14 - What You Wore Today

Day 15 - Your First Kiss

Day 16 - Your Dreams

Day 17 - Your Favorite Birthday

Day 18 - Your Favorite Memory

Day 19 - Something You Regret

Day 20 - This Month

Day 21 - Another Moment

Day 22 - Something That Upsets You

Day 23 - Something That Makes You Feel Better

Day 24 - Something That Makes You Cry

Day 25 - A First

Day 26 - Your Fears

Day 27 - Your Favorite Place

Day 28 - Something That You Miss

Day 29 - Your Aspirations

Day 30 - One Last Moment

The Little Girl That Could - Running Edition

Running.


Where do I begin? Running and I have never had the best of relationships. I have always been that girl that would refuse to run in P.E. I would be walking with my arms crossed and a scowl on my face while everyone zoomed on by, seemingly, with ease. I hated it. I know you're thinking that I was probably lazy. Oh no, for me it hurt. My ankle would throb and I would be near tears every time that I was forced to actually run.

After so many tears, arguments with teachers, and notes home to my mother for refusing to run, my mom took me to the doctor. After extensive questions/tests I was diagnosed with Sever's Disease. [Sever's disease or calcaneal apophysitis, is the most common cause of heel pain in the growing athlete and is due to overuse and repetitive microtrauma of growth plates of the calcaneus in the heel. It occurs in children ages 7 to 15, with the majority of patients presenting between 10 and 12 years of age. It is in relation to Osgood-Schlatter disease which affects the knee rather than the heel/ankle.]

Having been diagnosed, I was able to move on accordingly. Basically, I had a doctor's note that dismissed me from running. Handing that note to my teacher felt almost as good as sticking my tongue out and spitting out a bratty, "I told you so."

Though heels have been fine for years, I have stayed away from running. I've been fine with telling myself and others, "I'm just not a runner. It's not my thing." I would watch people run. Hear people say things like, "Exhilarating. Clarifying. A rush!" I kinda wanted to experience that. Not even kinda, I really wanted to feel that high, the pure joy of running until I couldn't run anymore! So, like any normal person who wanted something would do, I did it. I tried to run. I put on the cutest matchy-matchy running clothes, some snazzy sneakers, threw my hair into a pony-tail and took off! This little ritual has happened many times in the past few years. Every time, and I mean EVERY TIME, I would give up after just minutes of running. It was uncomfortable. I couldn't breathe. My legs were hurting. It was not fun. I felt no high. Ew, story confirmed, girlfriend is not a runner.

So there it is. I don't run. I guess I don't have the drive or the passion or the dedication or any of those other descriptive words that we all strive to have on our tombstones. If this is the conclusion that I've come up with after many failed attempts, why do I still long for that exhilarating, clarifying rush that comes from running until you can run no more? I will tell you why. I may not be driven or passionate or dedicated, but I am stubborn. Boy, am I ever stubborn! I am not alright with the fact that I fail at something. So today, on a sunny and bright Tuesday, I woke up with a stubborn desire to run. And run I did. 2 miles. That's right, 2 MILES!

Today I put on my cutest running outfit. Edit: I put on some black leggings and a Pittsburgh Penguins Eastern Conference Champs shirt. I laced up my embarrassingly white (meaning I clearly have not used them enough) running shoes, threw my long hair into a messy pony-tail, strapped on my iPod which was set to a fantastic running playlist, and headed out the door. I did some basic stretching, told myself I would just walk until I was out of my complex, and then I would take off like the wind!

I took off like the wind. I gave it everything I had. I got one block away and I was ready to stop. I was practically screaming to myself, "Tonja, YOU ARE NOT A RUNNER! Go back to your warm and cozy home and melt into the couch and get lost in the History Channel!" This is the point where I have previously caved in. Slowing to a walk, I would generally turn myself around, defeated and sad that running just wasn't my thing. Not today, my friends. Today I pushed on. My lungs were frozen solid. I was sure that at any moment they would shatter into a billion irreparable pieces and I would be a goner! My eyes were stinging from the chilling wind and the bright sun that I was running directly into. They stung so badly that there were literally tears running down my cheeks. My fellow runners on the Provo trail must have been concerned for this poor girl running in tears. [Please do not judge me, I have sensitive eyes!] Despite the discomfort, I pushed on.

Somewhere along the way I noticed beauty. I noticed the flowing river and the floating ducks. I noticed the orange leaves under my feet and the crystal-clear blue sky above my head. It was CLARIFYING! I noticed that even though my legs were burning, I was still going! I was doing it! At this exact, life-changing moment that I have so longed for, the song "Beating Hearts Baby" by Head Automatica began to play on my iPod. I giggled to myself as I became fully aware of my heart about to beat out of my chest. I could hear it in my ears and feel it in my head. My heart pounded with the rhythm of my feet on the pavement and the beat of the song and I loved it. It was EXHILARATING! I don't know how it happened, but I picked up the pace. I pushed a little harder and I ran a little faster. I was running and it was A RUSH!

Having never felt the high of a run like this before, I decided to go a little further than originally planned. I turned into a housing development and I ran around the windy sidewalks feeling the burn, being uncomfortable, but still pushing on.

As I rounded the corner to my complex, nearing the final stretch, "Don't Fear The Reaper" by The Blue Oyster Cult blasted into my ear phones. I could see my front door, I was almost there! Breathlessly, I kept on going. My legs and butt were on fire. My nose hurt from the biting wind. I. Could. Not. Breathe.

Plowing through my front door, I collapsed onto my couch. I HAD DONE IT! This girl who just was not a runner suddenly was. Hobbling upstairs I couldn't keep from smiling. As I turned on the steaming hot water I was grateful for the stubbornness that helped to nudge me out that door. Though I can't yet put the words "driven", "passionate", or "dedicated" on my tombstone, I can sure as hell put "stubborn" and baby, that feels good.