What do you mean I have to go UP a size?

          Everyone who knows me, knows I've been working diligently for 4 years to change my life in all aspects, but especially in the weight loss/fitness/lifestyle arena.  And, for the most part, I've succeeded in doing so.  I started at 289#, a size 26, and am now at roughly 195#, a size 12.  I have tree trunks for thighs, shoulders like a rugby player, and a bum you could bounce a quarter off of.  Most of that, I attribute to running and cycling.  For about the past 6 months, I've been lifting weights and working on improving my upper body and core strength.  Very recently, I've started lifting heavy and trying to actually gain some muscle to support my new found addiction to triathlon and my decision to train for an Ironman 70.3.  Not to mention, with a fairly large and muscular lower body, I felt the need to even things out a bit.  This is where the trouble starts.

           Take a step back in time with me.  I remember fondly the first time I could fit into an XXL at Old Navy, and I also remember fondly the first time I fit into a Large at numerous stores.  Up until last night, I was still happily fitting into all things Large.  Then came the moment I realized life was about to change again.  I tried on the cutest dress, convinced it would be perfect for Christmas, only to realize it wouldn't come close to zipping past my waist.  Some might think that's about the bust, but it didn't even make it up on my shoulders.  Enter (insert melodramatic tri-tone music here), the next size up.  THE NEXT SIZE UP?! NOOOO!  But I've worked so hard!  Eric dutifully went and got me the XL.  As I put it on, it zipped happily over my shoulders and fit my upper body perfectly, only to realize it was HUGE around my hips.  Sigh.  Enter dress number two...I couldn't even pull it over my shoulders.  After the third non-fitting dress, I gave up on dresses.
          Then came the super cute fleece zip up.  It fit like a glove on the body, just the way I like it, but looked like my arms were crammed in it like sausages.  I bought the XL because I wanted something warm and cozy that would also be comfortable too.  And we can't forget the cute trouser jeans I found....in a 14.  They're slightly huge in the waist, but fit the quads and booty with no room to spare.  What's a girl to to?  I need pants, right?  Wear a belt.

            So, standing in Old Navy last night, I realized a grizzly truth.  I'm destined to wear one of two things: shirts that fit my arms and nothing else, or stretchy athletic gear that makes me looks like the jock I really am on the inside.  And as for pants, forget it.  My legs have always been big, but they're getting harder and bigger, not to mention the ghetto booty from all the squats.  I suppose asking for the best of both worlds just isn't going to happen, unless I hurry up and get my Personal trainer cert, then I can dress like a jock for work.  If I really want the muscular, athletic body I have worked so hard for, clothes shopping isn't gonna be as much fun as it used to be.  And, I may just have to be ok with the next size up.  I mean, there are worse things....I just can't think of any right this exact moment.

          

At least you didn't give up....

          As I'm sitting here on a Saturday night looking over all the new "friends" I've acquired on my Facebook page, it dawned on me that I've been remiss about writing a blog post recently.  So, here goes.  

       Yesterday, I did my usual Friday morning thing: up, eat, bike to gym, beast out, ride home, eat, work, sleep.  While at the gym, I did an extra long weight routine because I want some bulk before heading home for Christmas.  It's my deepest hope that if my shoulders are Hulk enough, the family members with whom I'm not so popular will leave me alone.... I digress.  Once finished, I hit the treadmill for 3 miles at a higher intensity than I'm used to.  Just as I was ready to start my cool down, one of my running/gym buddies hopped on the one next to me.  Mind you, she hadn't seen me for about month, because I took off time before the Marine Corps Marathon and after to get some rest.  This is a brief paraphrase of our conversation.  

        "Hey!  How's it going?  I haven't seen you in a few weeks, and I was starting to get worried!  How did Marine Corps go??"
        "UGH.  Marine Corps was a near disaster.  The weather was crappy.  You may have heard....there was this little HURRICANE that slightly affected conditions.  It was 50* and 20mph wind.  My legs were shot from sightseeing before the race because we knew the city was gonna shut down our last day there.  I ended up in the med tent with hypothermia and dehydration after nearly passing out in a Chipotle....it was awesome."
         "Wow, that really sucks.  I'm sorry to hear that, but at least you didn't give up!  You'll have a great story and you got to hug hot Marines!  What are you gonna do now? I can't imagine you'd want to to another anytime soon...."
         "ME?  Screw that, I'm doing ING Miami marathon January 27th!  Onward and upward.  What doesn't kill me makes me run faster, right?"
         "You're a better woman than I am.  I think I would've called it quits for a while after that.  But I think it's gonna make you even more determined to train harder and do better."
         "You're right, it has.  I'm more committed than I've ever been to clean living, eating, and training.  And I'm gonna train as hard as I can for the next four months to make it happen."

         As I sit here with arms and shoulders so sore from yesterday's lift that I can barely move them, this conversation is resonating in my mind.  There are so many times over the last 4 years that I could have and sometimes should have given up.  Through the first marathon at Disney being a actual disaster, to running races in the rain that ruined phones, to weathering the split from Michael, to the nervous breakdown last spring, to having to pawn my grandmother's diamonds to pay the electric bill this past summer, I should have stopped training and taken care of business.  The thing is, I am the business.  And so when I keep training and stay focused, what I'm really doing is taking care of business.  Right now, I'm enjoying more success than I've ever had in my life.  So, for all the times I could have given up, the Marine Corps Marathon is just one more time I can look back on and say, "Rebekah, at least you didn't give up."  And I'll say that to myself every time I look at that swagtastic, spinning, sparkly medal hanging proudly on my rack.  Then, I'll go get another one to hang next to it.

        

The heart of an athlete

The Olympics have always been a huge event in my house.  I grew up with brothers who were serious athletes; they played football, basketball, and did track and field.  Both of them ultimately went to college on full ride track scholarships, and so watching the Olympic track & field trials, and the games, was something we waited for every 4 years.  My mom loved the gymnasts, and I loved the swimmers.  We would sit and watch the opening ceremonies and comment on the parade of nations, searching for our favorite athletes to walk by.  And, of course, we'd watch every event in hopes that our person would be amazing enough to win the ultimate prize, an Olympic gold medal.  With the 2012 Olympics opening ceremonies a couple days away, I find myself reflecting on the last Olympic games four years ago, and how very different my life is waiting to watch these games versus the last ones. 

Quite honestly, 2008 seems like a lifetime ago, and looking back at the pictures, there was a different person living in my body, so it almost seems as if it was someone else's life.  I have a picture from that summer hanging on my fridge, and the girl who kind of looks like me was 295#.  I remember coming home from the family beach vacation that year and thinking how gross I looked in the pictures.

A few weeks after that vacation, the Beijing Olympics opened, and there was buzz about who would win the marathon, whether or not Michael Phelps would live up to the hype, and if the US gymnasts could hold their own against the Chinese.  Track and Field and swimming were always my favorite events, and so I watched every moment cheering like I was there.  I remember thinking how much I missed swimming (although never really competitive, I was on a swim team for 2 years as a teenager), and how it would be a great way to start getting some exercise.  I remember being heartbroken when Lolo Jones hit the 9th hurdle and lost the gold medal, and when Deena Kastor broke her foot and had to drop out of the marathon (which I still considered an insane person's endeavor).  And I was so elated when the US relay team beat those dumbass French swimmers by a wisp of time to snatch the gold medal from them.

Long story short, those Olympic games inspired me to change my life.  I started riding a bike and in September 2008, went to the Track Shack and bought my very first pair of running shoes, pushing 300# on the scale.  I started my journey with Weight Watchers and lost 100#, but gained so much more.  4 years after those Beijing Olympics that shocked awake the heart of an athlete, I'll be watching the London Games a full blown muscled bound, marathon running, cycling, swimming, weight lifting athlete.  I've come farther than I ever imagined possible, and I'm not even close to finished.  I'm finally becoming the person I was always meant to be both inside and out.  Being an athlete is a huge part of who I am now, and I wouldn't have it any other way, nor would I give it up for anything or anyone.  We come in all shapes and sizes, from all walks of life.  And while I'll never be an Olympian, I can sure as hell try my best every single day to keep the heart of this athlete beating.

To meet the family....

So tomorrow I'm getting on a plane, and taking someone home with me to meet the family.....for the first time in 13 years.  Have you any idea how fucking terrifying that prospect is??  The last time I took someone home, it didn't turn out so well.  Anyway, I'm excited and full of trepidation when it comes to pulling that trigger these days.  I love Eric, and he knows it, even if nobody ever says anything to that effect.  And after 2+ years, it's time he meet the really important people in my life.  He already knows my mom and the man who has become my dad, but it's time to meet (cue horror music) my Grandma.  You know, the feisty little old lady who lives on the farm.  The one who is everything a grandma should be, knowledgeable, a little saucy, full of stories, who loves me no matter how it's been since we talked, and who will always give me a huge hug and a smile when I walk through the door.  Granted, it's still hard for me to go home and not have my Paps sitting there to greet me, but she's enough for me.

Meeting Grandma Staker means a news broadcast across the family that Rebekah has moved on.  That she's brought home some tall, skinny, handsome, super smart, charming guy who is at least 1,000 times better than the last pitiful excuse for a man she brought home (that would be the margaritas typing).  I digress.  I told Eric that she's kind of like the Godfather of the family.  Once she meets you, she calls everyone else.  Including my aunt whose daughter (my 1st cousin) still hangs out with my ex and his ugly, fat girlfriend.  But if you manage to get Grandma Staker to like you, who cares what the rest of the family thinks, because her word is kind of final.  If she doesn't like you, you're fucked.  Bottom line. 

Then there's my other mother of sorts, Betty Jo, and the kids that I adore more than any other living beings on this earth.  While they're not my children, they're my babies, nonetheless, as I was there to hear their birthing calls, just like their mother was.  I watched them grow, and walk, and lose teeth, and turn into amazing, brilliant, beautiful young men and a lady.  What they think of Eric is extremely important to me.  They're the closest thing to children I may ever have, and so what they have to say carries tremendous weight with me.  They loved Michael, and he loved them.  And I don't wish for them to be disappointed again with all my being.  And so I've waited a long time to bring anyone back into their lives on my behalf.  I owe it to them to bring home a good person who won't disappoint us a family. 

So here I sit, in a slight bit of denial over the situation.  I"m getting on a plane tomorrow and taking someone home with me for the first time in over 2 years.  That's some scary stuff.  But in true Eric and Rebekah fashion, it'll probably much ado about nothing because obviously I'm amazing and he's amazing, otherwise, why would we be together?? It's just time to let the rest of world in on that little secret.  ;)

Go ahead, JUMP!

I find myself recently feeling like I have just started to realize and live up to my potential as a person.  Like I have spent my entire life doubting what I am capable of because I always had someone telling me I could do better instead of applauding what I had done.  For the longest time, my mom has said to me, "As long as you do the best you can, I'll support you".  All the while, she knew I was capable of so much more, but she, in her German stoicism, left it to me to realize.

The thing about someone like me is that I've always been the fuck up of the family.  My older brothers were athletes, and scholars, who went to college on full athletic scholarships, and I was fat, little musician sister nobody really expected anything from.  And I had a father who expected perfection, but never could manage to deliver anything close to it himself.  The point is, I did the best I could, not really knowing what my best actually was.  I just kind of wandered around, doing what I thought I was supposed to do by studying music, but not really ever doing well at it.  Even now, as much as I love to teach, I'm not interested in going back to school to learn more about music.  I'm a little over it and all the pretentious, ego-maniacal people who fill the positions of upper level voice teachers.  Quite frankly, I don't care what degree you have, if you're an asshole and treat me like a second class citizen because I don't have a fancy degree, you're not good enough to even waste my breath on, better yet consider you my colleague. But I digress.

Now that I have seen just a glimpse of what success could look like, it makes me sad to know how much time, energy, money, and hope I wasted just getting by.  I never really wanted to push myself to do better, even though I know I should have.  In the last several days since I let my skeletons out of the closet to play, a switch has flipped inside me that means there is really no turning back from this point on the timeline of my life.  It's not that I want perfection from myself, but I do know that I'm capable of impressing graduate school professors and doing perfect score worthy work.  I know that I can work myself to edge of actual insanity and survive it.  I know that it's time for me to finish the weight loss journey by asking my body and mind to do things it's never done before and pushing harder than ever.

Every time I go out my door for a workout, I expect more from myself than I gave yesterday.  I know I can run faster, I know I can get stronger, I know I can work harder, I know I can live a better life once I get this enormous pile of shit out of my yard.  More than anything, I deserve more from my life than I've ever given myself permission to ask for.  Now that I know what I want more than anything, there is nobody to stand in my way except me.  And I, as human being and kick your ass then make you pancakes woman, am learning day by day to let go of things.  To get angry about things and direct that anger to the correct place, to allow myself to cry because I'm so sad on the inside that some days it's all I can do to get out of bed and lace up my running shoes.  I have never been allowed to feel all these things for fear of what someone else would think, and therefore, never really gave myself a chance to live up to the potential the universe has blessed me with.

There is no more denying it, I'm tapping into that potential, and it's a scary thing, the unknown.  What I do know about the unknown is that, while I may never be a legendary singer or performer or an amazing teacher, I will be a star in my own right.  There is no nobler deed than helping another person reach their potential.  I have a team of people, including me, who are helping me reach mine so that I can go out into the world and eventually help other people reach theirs.  There is nothing more scary than standing on the edge of a cliff and picking the right moment to either jump off of it or walk away.  Ask yourself these questions: Are you really living the life you want, or are you settling for what you think you want?  Are you really living to up to your potential, or are you too scared to take the leap of faith?  Go ahead, jump!  It'll be the most amazing, terrifying, exhilarating thing you've ever done.  And when you land, you'll look back up at the cliff, and wonder why you didn't do that sooner!

Change and gravity

Once upon a time, there was a girl.  She fell in love with a boy, and that boy cheated on her for almost a year with another girl.  When he decided to leave the first girl, she begged him and pleaded him not to go.  He looked at her with sea blue eyes under long, think eyelashes and said, "The only things in life you can really count on are change and gravity".  Then he left her.  Almost 12 years later, that girl is this girl, and little did that stupid boy know the force of nature he was dealing with when he crushed her heart.

I talk about the universe swirling and how I can feel things coming before they get here.  I talk about having anxiety so deeply that I wake up each morning with knots in my stomach bad enough I can barely choke down half a bowl of cereal.  I talk about feeling things that are beyond myself and things that didn't happen to me in this life.  I have intuition beyond my own understanding.  I'm not psychic, but I do feel things other people can't.  I have dreams about people and they come true, I have feelings about things I can't explain, I sat at Cafe du Monde in New Orleans overcome with a sense of loss so profound all I could do was sit and cry.  I have past life experiences.  I sense things.

For that reason, people are drawn to me.  Sometimes it's in an attraction kind of way, which I'll admit, I'm mostly oblivious to, and sometimes it's just a "let me get to know this girl". People are intrigued by me, I guess, who knows.  It's not something I ask for, having gravity, but it's something I deal with.  It's part of what keeps me in my house a lot.  I read people very quickly, and I can get right down to the nuts and bolts of what makes them tick so fast that it scares people away sometimes.  I'm an intuitive, and people who are brave enough to actually get to know me either stay very superficial with me or understand that I know how they tick and are ok with that.  It's what makes finding friends, good friends so hard for me.  My personality is quirky, cute and funny, and a little snarky, but quirky.  

But back to change and gravity.  When I said a cosmic storm was coming, I knew that everything would change.  What I didn't realize was that my gravity would pull everyone around me into the storm.  The thing is, each person who stands in my storm path doesn't really know what's coming at them.  They don't realize that every decision I make while standing in the eye of my own storm affects them.  They don't realize that I'm bringing a storm to them.  Things happen around me and to me and to the people I love in a way that I cannot change or affect.  These things don't happen because I want them to, they happen because they must.  Like a gravitational pull that keeps our tiny little galaxy in order, when I change, the things and people around me must change or be left behind.   

Change is never, ever easy.  Nothing will be the same when the storm clears, but everything will be better.    The universe in all its glory has a way of cleaning house from time to time.  Nobody ever likes it; nobody ever wants it.  The thing about the universe is that it never really gives you what you want, it gives you what you need.  And sometimes learning to want what you need is the battle, not the other way around.  I don't cause events ,but I do watch them happen and help people explain why they're happening at the same time.  There are things happening around me and to me right now that are all connected, woven together like a basket, where one piece cannot stand alone without the other, but must also exist independently.  All I can do is lock hands with the ones I love and stand in the middle of the perfect storm.  Knowing we are each trying to stay upright on our own, but holding onto each other just in case one of us comes close to being swept away.  My gravity attracts change, and it's what keeps me on the ground.  I'm holding on tight because the storm just started, and you better believe I won't allow any of my loves to get pulled out of my gravity.

Silence and the road to recovery

As all of you know, I'm going through a really hard time in my life right now.  Among the ages old wounds I'm nursing, I'm also single for the very first time since I was 18 years old, and that's pretty freaking scary.  I'm also learning for the first time in my life how to listen to myself. 

I started seeing a counselor and she gave me some homework.  Listen.  Write it down.  Go out.  Meet new people.  All of these are hard for me.  I'm great at listening to other people and helping them with their problems; which is why I've gotten so good at NOT listening to myself.  Meeting new people is altogether awkward and scary because I'm quirky and odd, and I'm not really sure who I am anymore.  This whole former fatgirl thing is really a weird social experiment.  So, I try to think through some of things whilst running.

Sometimes when I run, my mind is so full of things that I can't articulate them into coherent thoughts, and therefore can't actually accomplish any worthwhile thinking.  But something amazing has happened the past two days: my mind is silent.  Yes, I think about my to do list, my bank account, who I'm teaching today, etc....  But the things that have been eating at me have been silenced a little.  Part of this recovery process is actually saying the words to another human being that I was too scared to say.  Once it's out of my mind, whether it be on paper or in conversation, it loses some of its power. 

It's come to my attention, through both my own reflection and the observations of others, that I have anger issues.  I go from 0 to 1,000 in the blink of an eye.  Not only am I under direction to write down all my volcanic eruptions, I know that I can channel that negative energy into something positive.  If I'm going to be single, and not spending every waking moment that I'm not working with a partner, I'm going to spend it at the gym, or on my bike, or rock climbing, or canoeing or whatever else I can get into.  I haven't taken group exercise classes since I was a teenager (except for spinning), and I figure that sounds kinda fun, too.  Although, I'll admit, I suck at dancing, so Zumba may not be a great plan..... I want to hit my goal weight this year, and finally be done losing weight.  I want to run my fastest marathon, and make new friends.  I want to find some peace and quiet for myself.  I've started to find a little silence on my road to recovery, and if I just so happen to run several hundred miles this year down that road, then so be it.  As long as I can be still enough to hear it, the sound of silence just might deafen me.