I Ran the Pig…and It Was Awesome

1

I RanThis morning I ran a half-marathon. Seriously. It is kind of hard for me to believe, too, especially because six months ago, I couldn’t run a mile. I had three kids in four years; I worked full-time and ran the house full-time and I just couldn’t see where I could find the time to run. I was exhausted all the time, depressed and discouraged, and unable to find any semblance of the me I used to know. I knew I needed to make changes, but I didn’t know how.

Reluctantly, I joined a 12-days of Fitmass group that a friend was running on Facebook. I seriously doubted that posting daily pictures of my workout would make a difference, but I had to start somewhere. That somewhere was a pair of 5-lb dumbbells and a hodgepodge of exercises I found on the internet. Every morning when my alarm went off at 5am, I dragged myself to the kitchen, did a set of 12 reps, a handful of push-ups and squats, prayed (mostly for strength) and dove straight into my day. Most days, my early-bird 1-year-old decided to join me. Since I didn’t want to take pictures of myself, I mostly snapped her trying to roll the barbells across the floor. The whole thing, including a few minutes of stretching lying on the ground moaning, took fifteen minutes, maybe a few more if I had to stop and reinsert the pacifier. But I did it.

The twelve days ended at eleven with a brutal stomach bug, but as soon as I was able to stand up straight, I picked up the weights again. I kept it up all the way through December, and when Christmas rolled around, I hadn’t gained a pound. I hadn’t lost one either, but when you figure that muscle weighs more than fat, I thought I might be a millimeter skinnier.

Christmas brought me a Nutribullet blender, and I immediately switched out my morning toast/oatmeal/carb for a spinach smoothie. I knew I needed to focus on feeding my body actual food, food that would give it energy and not deplete it. Quickly, smoothies became my trick to eating a diet high in veggies without sacrificing a lot of time. After about a week, I noticed a distinct difference in my energy levels when I drank the morning smoothie versus when I didn’t. As much as I love my food, I liked the energy more…and I wasn’t hungry.

Then came the January 1 text: “Hey, in the spirit of the day, how about a run?” Contributor Maddie is a high school friend who happens to live directly across the street from me. At this point, I had successfully and artfully dodged all running requests for nearly ten months, but this time I said yes. Several weeks later, she published this post about getting your friends to train for the Pig, and I realized that innocuous text was part of a larger plot to get me to take part in a “long, thin party”. By the time I wised up, a Powerpoint training schedule had already been delivered to my inbox. I don’t remember how exactly we got from a 1.87 mile run to a half-marathon training schedule, but I’m sure Maddie can fill you in. All I know is I was too stubborn to back out. The advantage of having a running partner across the street is that she can totally see you sitting on your living room couch eating sweet potato chips and watching the Bachelor when you say you’re too tired to run; there have been many runs I did not want to do, but I ran anyway because another person was involved. I needed accountability. If you are staring at a scale and wondering how to take a first step, I’d suggest emailing Maddie.

The first run – all 1.87 miles of it – was fairly brutal. I had to stop and walk up the next to last hill. I have no idea why I agreed to another one. But here’s the thing: after the first week or so, I had a (brief) moment where I thought, “I am enjoying this.” I was feeling stronger. I was checking off miles on my training schedule. I began to notice that I was less pent-up and frustrated with my kids if I was running regularly. (I really hate to admit that, but it is true.) And then the shin splints set in. Excruciating leg pain, not just in my shins, but up into my thighs. There were days at work where I could barely walk; my legs buckled while I was walking down the hall. Then, abruptly, the shin splints went away…and a few weeks later, they were back. Mentally, I was reaching a point where I wanted to run, but physically, it was doubtful if I could continue. When the shin splints reached their peak, another stomach virus came to our house. It knocked me completely on my back, and I missed a whole week of running. The shin splints subsided, but I ordered a pair of compression socks just in case. Another crazy thing happened after the stomach bug: I lost four pounds. And even after I hydrated and felt up to eating again, the scale stayed the same. It was the first time in three months that I could see the results of the work I’d been doing. I was ready to run again. This time, I wore compression socks and religiously iced my shins after each run; slowly but surely, the shin splints abated. It was like my body decided to quit fighting me and play along. The weight kept coming off; at the beginning of April, I was down 13 pounds…13 real pounds, not just water weight that I starved off. The pants that I could barely button on December were starting to hang on me. I could feel muscles under my skin. There’s nothing quite as motivating as seeing lasting results, and I was finally seeing them.

I’d tell you it was smooth sailing from there, but it wasn’t. There was a random, undiagnosed foot injury three weeks out from the marathon that I thought would derail the whole thing, and my daughter came down with croup the week before the race. Instead of resting up, I was pacing our patio with her at 3am, hoping the cool night air would open her airway. I arrived at the night before the race exhausted and anxious, even more so because the forecast called for 100% change of rain. I hate running in rain.

But I did it. The rain disappeared, and paved the way for the mixed blessing that is sunny humidity. The first three miles were brutal, probably because we accidentally joined a pace group that was far too fast for us. Miles six to eight were all uphill, in the heat, and my mind wanted to quit. But I didn’t. At mile 11, they handed out Swedish fish, and I perked up. But at mile 12, I saw a healthy man collapse from dehydration, and it completely unnerved me. What was to prevent that from happening to me?

Then I turned the corner and saw the finish line. I teared up as the crowd cheered; I even had enough energy to throw my hands in the air as I crossed. It. Was. Awesome.

Maddie and I after the finish. Not picture: our friend Amanda who is totally pregnant and ran with us. Actually, she was in the best shape of the three of us. See? Anyone can do it.
Maddie and I after the finish. Not pictured: our friend Amanda who is totally pregnant and ran with us. Actually, she was in the best shape of the three of us. See? Anyone can do it.

For me, this was about so much more than running and losing weight. Yes, my BMI dropped from borderline overweight to the lower side of healthy, but what really matters is that my body is starting to work the way it did before kids. As much as I hate to admit it, my brain on exercise is a lot better than my brain on chocolate. Even more important, I discovered that the hardest part of a long journey is the first step: whether that step is going on the first run, stepping out the door on a cold January day, or getting up at 5 am to run 13 miles in what might be a thunderstorm. I learned the importance of companionship on any hard journey; whether it is a training run or the real deal. To those of you who made funny signs and stood at the hardest parts of the course: thank you! You showed me that laughter makes every hard journey bearable. The finish line taught me that hard things are totally worth doing.

A long race is just a little like the journey to parenting. The moment that baby is in your arms (or maybe a few hours thereafter), the 40 weeks of morning sickness, the 24 hours of labor, the two years of adoption hurdles…suddenly fade to the back of your memory and you think, “I would totally do this again!” Well, eight hours after the finish, I’m already thinking a trip to Columbus in the fall. To do it again.

So mamas, take that hard first step, whether it is a change in eating habits, making the time for yourself, or going on the run. The later steps won’t be easy, but the first one is the hardest. If I can do this, you can, too. And I hear Maddie is looking for more people to join her long, thin party. You should come.

Previous articleDear Pregnant Lady
Next articleThe Moms We Are Blessed to Know: Mindi
Laura Simon
I'm a writer, a former teacher, a newbie homeschool mom, a crazy runner, an experimental cook, a voracious reader, a wife, and a mom. I'm addicted to chocolate, peanut butter, and sweet potato chips from Aldi. I feel only slightly guilty telling my kids they can't watch TV and then tuning into The Bachelor after they go to bed. I write to make sense of all the crazy rolling around in my brain. Thanks for reading what I have to say. If you'd like to read more, visit me at laurajsimon.blogspot.com.

1 COMMENT

  1. Laura,

    I’m totally going to have to take you up on running with you next year. This totally inspired me. I have been suffering through the same down and depressed thoughts about my weight recently. Thank you for sharing your journey!!! I hope you’ll let me partner with you for the next Pig!

    Court

LEAVE A REPLY

Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here