Wonderful phone conversation with my son. Yesterday he ran a Grand Prix race in Louisiana and finished well which will give him more points. I knew he was fast, but I didn't realize how high he ranks in his division until I went to the website and looked for myself.
Proud mama.
He's my off-campus coach for marathon training. I bounce questions off of him, he gives me suggestions. He's super-encouraging but still matter-of-fact when it comes to technical aspects of running. He doesn't cut me any slack. There aren't really any shortcuts to training. The work needs to be done and it needs to be done in a safe way. He bolsters my confidence without blowing smoke up my running gear. If he thinks I can push a little harder, he tells me. If he thinks I'm overdoing it, he gently suggests that I take a few days off. What I love about his suggestions is that he's not authoritarian in his presentation. He repeats back to me what he's heard, states his opinion, and then gives me some options for change. At the end of the day, I'm responsible for my training, my actions, and my workout. He leaves the power in my hands (or my feet, whichever way you want to look at it).
I'd like to think I helped mold his conversation style. After all, I raised him and he must have learned this from me. Right? Nah, I don't think so. I didn't give effective communication style any real thought until he was in college. When he was growing up, I was busy. I was kind of a mess. I was distracted with simply getting through some days and weeks. I wasn't always as present as I should have been. I can't take credit for this. He's somehow managed to do this on his own.
Grateful mama.
As we were wrapping up our phone call yesterday, we were talking about nutrition and weight. He mentioned how much he weighs now and how much he weighed when he finished college. I didn't tell him that I outweighed him most of that time. He's smart, he knows. I was really happy, though, to know that I'm finally at a weight significantly below my tall, thin athlete of a son.
Happy mama.
©Michelle Scofield, August 19, 2012 All Rights Reserved
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Saturday, August 18, 2012
It's Saturday, 8am, and I've already put in my long run for the week. Looking at my distance and time, I burned almost 700 calories doing it. I'm quasi-hungry. Probably more thirsty than anything else. I could fix a big breakfast. Or...
I had bran cereal and a half cup of skim milk. I also poured myself a one cup serving of skim milk to drink. Now I'm enjoying my coffee. I'm still a little surprised at the changes I've made when choosing foods.
When I started this journey I struggled daily with feelings of sadness and shame. I felt as if I was being denied something (food) that gave me great pleasure. I felt punished for years of enjoying myself. I wasn't exactly looking at my situation in a positive way. Gradually, the negative yielded to the positive and I turned some corner and started running toward feeling grateful for taking control of my life. I began to be proud of my decisions and of the small gains I was making along the way. Thank goodness.
I'm reading "50/50" by Dean Karnazes. He tells the story of how he ran 50 marathons in 50 days, back in 2006. It's a motivational and touching book. He encountered many challenges and also met some really interesting people along the way. He's sprinkled little tips throughout the book to help the reader understand and prepare for endurance events.
One phrase he uses which really struck me is, "responsible for managing my own nutrition." He talks about some of the mistakes he made and how he felt afterward...sluggish, lethargic, and with muddled thinking. He encourages the reader to consider how food can do just the opposite. If one chooses one's food with thought, the food can provide energy and vitality.
I absolutely believe this translates to our everyday diet choices – not just when we’re training for a marathon. I feel so much better since the addition of lean proteins, whole grains, fresh vegetables, and fruits to my daily intake. When I "give myself a break" and consume a high fat, processed meal, I pay for it with less energy the next day.
To quote Mr. Karnazes: "How much discipline do I really need to do the thing that makes me feel and perform better?" Turns out, not as much as I once thought I did. Months of making healthier choices for myself has turned into more of a habit than a chore. The food I added as fuel gradually replaced the food I was using as comfort. Don't get me wrong. As I told my son on the phone today, I still get an urge for a particular food now and then and I'll allow myself to indulge but I've taken a good hard look at what that indulging actually means.
I no longer eat like it's my last meal. I know that whatever food I want to taste will be there tomorrow, or the next day, or the next. There are myriad reasons I ate as I did previously. I am grateful for each day that brings me understanding of those reasons and also for discovering how much better I feel now. Knowledge is power.
©Michelle Scofield, August 18, 2012 All Rights Reserved
I had bran cereal and a half cup of skim milk. I also poured myself a one cup serving of skim milk to drink. Now I'm enjoying my coffee. I'm still a little surprised at the changes I've made when choosing foods.
When I started this journey I struggled daily with feelings of sadness and shame. I felt as if I was being denied something (food) that gave me great pleasure. I felt punished for years of enjoying myself. I wasn't exactly looking at my situation in a positive way. Gradually, the negative yielded to the positive and I turned some corner and started running toward feeling grateful for taking control of my life. I began to be proud of my decisions and of the small gains I was making along the way. Thank goodness.
I'm reading "50/50" by Dean Karnazes. He tells the story of how he ran 50 marathons in 50 days, back in 2006. It's a motivational and touching book. He encountered many challenges and also met some really interesting people along the way. He's sprinkled little tips throughout the book to help the reader understand and prepare for endurance events.
One phrase he uses which really struck me is, "responsible for managing my own nutrition." He talks about some of the mistakes he made and how he felt afterward...sluggish, lethargic, and with muddled thinking. He encourages the reader to consider how food can do just the opposite. If one chooses one's food with thought, the food can provide energy and vitality.
I absolutely believe this translates to our everyday diet choices – not just when we’re training for a marathon. I feel so much better since the addition of lean proteins, whole grains, fresh vegetables, and fruits to my daily intake. When I "give myself a break" and consume a high fat, processed meal, I pay for it with less energy the next day.
To quote Mr. Karnazes: "How much discipline do I really need to do the thing that makes me feel and perform better?" Turns out, not as much as I once thought I did. Months of making healthier choices for myself has turned into more of a habit than a chore. The food I added as fuel gradually replaced the food I was using as comfort. Don't get me wrong. As I told my son on the phone today, I still get an urge for a particular food now and then and I'll allow myself to indulge but I've taken a good hard look at what that indulging actually means.
I no longer eat like it's my last meal. I know that whatever food I want to taste will be there tomorrow, or the next day, or the next. There are myriad reasons I ate as I did previously. I am grateful for each day that brings me understanding of those reasons and also for discovering how much better I feel now. Knowledge is power.
©Michelle Scofield, August 18, 2012 All Rights Reserved
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Letting Go and Moving On
The "Donate" section of my closet continues to grow with clothes, some of which I really loved. I'm that woman at the movies/restaurant/party who was always falling on the side of dressed up rather than dressed down. It makes me a little sad to see some of those clothes go, considering the places I've taken them. For me, it wasn't a vacation without a couple of cocktail dresses and the accessories to go with them. Looking at that rack in my closet reminds me of Cancun, Las Vegas, New York City, Atlanta, and San Diego.
These days I'm not properly packed for a trip unless I also include my running clothes, shoes, and ponytail elastics.
I'm back to wearing the size Medium scrubs I wore 9 years ago. They're in good shape and they have my name and credentials embroidered on the shirts. Scrubs are silly-expensive if you want to get some that feel good and also won't start to look worn with a few washings. I'm not ready to fork over the money for new sets just now. I'm glad I kept the old ones. They'll have to do for awhile. I tried making some of my size Large pants work by pairing them with a t-shirt but I realized that wearing pants that are too big (even with a drawstring) feels physically uncomfortable.
As I think about my old clothes, a bit of anxiety rises in me and I become hesitant to give them up. I realize that I'm still holding onto the way I've seen myself for the last few years. It's not as easy as I might hope - to embrace this new body - but I'm trying. Rather, I'm trying to be accepting of my evolving self.
My former self was insulated, protected, shielded. My former self put a lot of effort into the shoes, the hair, the makeup and the jewelry. My former self was attempting to cover the foundation of me, piling on adornments. The clothes were a distraction. I could stop someone from seeing the real me by putting something shiny in front of them - a designer gown I'd found at a vintage shop or an interesting necklace. At one time I wore my hair super short. If anything, it was a conversation piece and if they were talking about my hair, maybe people weren't looking at my face or my body.
I didn't really LIKE the way I looked but I could ACT like I did. My pseudo-confidence was astounding and only a few people knew just how lacking in confidence I really was. Am.
Don't get me wrong. I'm going to continue to dress up. I love it. What I'm loving more, though, is that I don't think twice about running out to the grocery store in a t-shirt and shorts, not a lick of makeup on my face. At work I pull my hair back and I wear shoes that don't hurt my feet. Heck, those scrubs I'm wearing now? Battleship gray. The only reason I have them is because they were purchased for me. I would NEVER choose that color for myself but they serve a purpose. I'm not hiding behind them. I'm wearing them. I think there is a difference.
©Michelle Scofield, August 4, 2012 All Rights Reserved
These days I'm not properly packed for a trip unless I also include my running clothes, shoes, and ponytail elastics.
I'm back to wearing the size Medium scrubs I wore 9 years ago. They're in good shape and they have my name and credentials embroidered on the shirts. Scrubs are silly-expensive if you want to get some that feel good and also won't start to look worn with a few washings. I'm not ready to fork over the money for new sets just now. I'm glad I kept the old ones. They'll have to do for awhile. I tried making some of my size Large pants work by pairing them with a t-shirt but I realized that wearing pants that are too big (even with a drawstring) feels physically uncomfortable.
As I think about my old clothes, a bit of anxiety rises in me and I become hesitant to give them up. I realize that I'm still holding onto the way I've seen myself for the last few years. It's not as easy as I might hope - to embrace this new body - but I'm trying. Rather, I'm trying to be accepting of my evolving self.
My former self was insulated, protected, shielded. My former self put a lot of effort into the shoes, the hair, the makeup and the jewelry. My former self was attempting to cover the foundation of me, piling on adornments. The clothes were a distraction. I could stop someone from seeing the real me by putting something shiny in front of them - a designer gown I'd found at a vintage shop or an interesting necklace. At one time I wore my hair super short. If anything, it was a conversation piece and if they were talking about my hair, maybe people weren't looking at my face or my body.
I didn't really LIKE the way I looked but I could ACT like I did. My pseudo-confidence was astounding and only a few people knew just how lacking in confidence I really was. Am.
Don't get me wrong. I'm going to continue to dress up. I love it. What I'm loving more, though, is that I don't think twice about running out to the grocery store in a t-shirt and shorts, not a lick of makeup on my face. At work I pull my hair back and I wear shoes that don't hurt my feet. Heck, those scrubs I'm wearing now? Battleship gray. The only reason I have them is because they were purchased for me. I would NEVER choose that color for myself but they serve a purpose. I'm not hiding behind them. I'm wearing them. I think there is a difference.
©Michelle Scofield, August 4, 2012 All Rights Reserved
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Triggers and Reactions (Or how I almost wrecked my diet over a chicken sandwich.)
The last two days have been difficult for me. As my best friend said, "It's not easy being as passionate about certain issues as you." He's not kidding. I was raised by a firecracker of a mother who never tried to tamp down her response to social issues and I am her clone.
I just need to be careful. I can get in my own way - especially when I feel frustrated about an issue. I fixate, I perseverate, I stew, and I stress. I fight against my own feelings of helplessness by searching for comfort.
If I'm not careful, I'll look for that comfort in food. Why? It reminds me of family, of love, of happier times. The *old* me would take those comforting feelings and eat her way into a dull stupor. If my stomach was full (overfull), I calmed down and stopped fretting. It was my own way of controlling the uncontrollable. No, I couldn't fix a situation but I could withdraw from the pressure I was feeling from it. With food.
As the political season heats up, I'm trying to stay away from heated discussions as much as possible. No mind-changing can happen from an ugly argument: at least none that I'm aware. As I become more physically healthy, I'm more protective of my mental health and I am avoiding conflict when I can.
When I can.
That's the rub. I'm trying to balance being an active, informed member of society with not letting outside factors consume my life. Not an easy task.
Mindfulness of what sets me off, of what triggers my anxiety and my need to fix and control (situations and people) is what I'm banking on. I can't afford to let my emotions drive me to harmful behavior. My body can't take many more years of the abuse I've handed to it. Neither, though, can I ignore my inherent personality. If I attempt to bypass my convictions, I will abandon my very self.
So...I've made some promises to myself - again. Still.
I will be more attentive. I will notice the signals I'm sending to myself. I will give my emotional health it's due.
And thus ends the rant of a woman who spent the last two days on the edge. There. I feel better.
©Michelle Scofield, August 2, 2012 All Rights Reserved
I just need to be careful. I can get in my own way - especially when I feel frustrated about an issue. I fixate, I perseverate, I stew, and I stress. I fight against my own feelings of helplessness by searching for comfort.
If I'm not careful, I'll look for that comfort in food. Why? It reminds me of family, of love, of happier times. The *old* me would take those comforting feelings and eat her way into a dull stupor. If my stomach was full (overfull), I calmed down and stopped fretting. It was my own way of controlling the uncontrollable. No, I couldn't fix a situation but I could withdraw from the pressure I was feeling from it. With food.
As the political season heats up, I'm trying to stay away from heated discussions as much as possible. No mind-changing can happen from an ugly argument: at least none that I'm aware. As I become more physically healthy, I'm more protective of my mental health and I am avoiding conflict when I can.
When I can.
That's the rub. I'm trying to balance being an active, informed member of society with not letting outside factors consume my life. Not an easy task.
Mindfulness of what sets me off, of what triggers my anxiety and my need to fix and control (situations and people) is what I'm banking on. I can't afford to let my emotions drive me to harmful behavior. My body can't take many more years of the abuse I've handed to it. Neither, though, can I ignore my inherent personality. If I attempt to bypass my convictions, I will abandon my very self.
So...I've made some promises to myself - again. Still.
I will be more attentive. I will notice the signals I'm sending to myself. I will give my emotional health it's due.
And thus ends the rant of a woman who spent the last two days on the edge. There. I feel better.
©Michelle Scofield, August 2, 2012 All Rights Reserved
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