I'm baaaaack...kind of

On Tuesday I did a mile run to test my knee. I wore a knee brace and made it through the mile without any knee issues. In fact, my knee felt better after the run before I started it. I'm not sure how that worked out, but I wasn't going to complain.

Yesterday, I decided to get in four miles. The heat, asthma, allergies, and the flaring knee issue made for one of my most miserable runs yet. I actually didn't even notice my knee was bothering me until the last half hour. I think it had been the whole time though. I was just focused on my breathing and not throwing up.  I ran with water yesterday, and I was so irritated by it mid-run that I set it down to retrieve later.

I'm taking a legitimate rest day today. No lifting, no cross-training, nothing. I'm hoping that my knee feels well enough in the morning for me to attempt my 11 miles. On some level, it did feel good to get back into it. I sort of enjoyed my week off while my knee healed, but I don't want to spend another week that way. 

Kneejury

Well, my "running coach" said I need to lay off the running for at least the rest of the week. My running coach is a 17-year-old cross country star and marathon runner himself. He's a student, but he's really become a teacher when it comes to all my training. He always checks in during class and asks how many miles I'm putting in and what sort of problems I'm facing. I went through my knee issues from the past week, and he said it's time to give it a rest.

"It's better to lose a week than really injure yourself. Take a break."

Although he's not a doctor, I know he's right. I tried a couple runs this week, but had to cut them in half to avoid the knee pain. I was really looking forward to a big run this weekend as a tribute to my mom on Mother's Day, but I'll have to settle for something else until my knee feels better. I'm ahead of schedule in my training so I'm trying to not get too bummed out.

Either way, it's kind of a sad end to what was already a trying and frustrating week. I'm trying to stay positive though and I'm looking forward to a productive and hopefully, somewhat relaxing weekend.

10

You have no idea how badly I wanted double digits. If you could have been in my head around the four mile mark, you might be closer to understanding. But even then, I don't think it's possible.

It was just three weeks ago that I ran four miles without stopping, for the first time. I'll just quote myself here, "I honestly feel like four might be my max for jogging without stopping, but only time and my body will tell." 

My 10 mile run started as an attempt at 9, but even that thought just seemed absurd. It was the best start to a long run I've ever had. The first two miles were easy, almost enjoyable. I was thinking about other things and before I knew it, I was halfway through my third mile. Unfortunately, the fun pretty much ended there. All of a sudden, my legs became heavy and it became harder and harder to maintain my pace and breathe at the same time.

I found myself close to tears just thinking about stopping. I had an internal battle of epic proportions going on in my head. On one side, I told myself I could stop and walk for awhile. I knew if I stopped though, I might not be able to start again. My other thought was to just do a couple more miles and call it a day. I'm ahead of schedule on my training, so that seemed reasonable. But I just kept thinking about how badly I wanted to complete 10 miles.

10.

Are you kidding me? 

But I got so freaking excited about the possibility, that I just kept pushing. I wanted it and I could have it. At mile seven the knee pain started. At mile eight my hip started giving me trouble. At that point though, I think I would have run through a broken leg or hip, a serious nose bleed, or whatever to make my ten miles. I would have peed my pants if I had to. 

And like that, it was over.
10 miles.

Life is so crazy. I hope to complete that half-marathon in June and then a full Marathon in December. Who knows what will happen between now and then thought. Right now, I've got a 10-miler completed and no one can take that away from me.

Fuel

It took me a really long time to recover from that first real-world job interview I had after college. I was psyched to get a face-to-face interview after a positive phone interview. It was for a video production company here in Kansas City. I had looked at the website and honestly believed I could bring something better to the table. By that point, I had been editing using an industry standard editing software, Final Cut Pro, for nearly eight years. Of course my self-esteem was at an all-time low, but even so, I genuinely thought that at the least, I could make a pretty good video editor. 

I arrived for my interview in the basement of some house in the middle of suburbia. It was clear to me from the initial introduction, that I was in for a treat. It was really less of an interview and more of a timed skills test. He had me perform some obscure editing tasks that I would never use in producing a commercial. But I did it, although obviously not the same way he would have. 

As I left he offered me some unsolicited advice, "If I were you, I wouldn't even put Final Cut Pro on your resume. You don't know what you're doing." Level-headed Katie should have taken this advice for what it was. It was actually drivel, coming from a man running a disorganized company out of his basement, who hadn't even bothered to look at my demo reel. Instead, I accepted his words as fact. I cried the 45 minutes home. I couldn't put Final Cut on my resume? That's really all I had.

My stomach still hurts thinking about that experience. I did everything I could to erase that moment from my memory, but it would just creep into my mind occasionally. My dad said to me, "Katie, do something so great that one day he comes to you looking for a job. That would be the greatest redemption." So while producing the documentary last year, I let myself think about it from time to time. I used it as fuel. 

I'm really bad about letting moments and comments like that eat away at me. I replay one from my Target days all the time. I was on my lunch break and had just stepped out of the bathroom stall to wash my hands. A little boy looked up to his mom and casually asked, "Mommy, why is that woman so fat?" I grimaced as she hushed him and scooted him out of the bathroom. I had been feeling really good about myself for losing 10 pounds. But I left work that day defeated and replayed those ten seconds in my head over and over. Ultimately, I lost my will to continue down the weight loss path. It was just too hard. I was destined for constant humiliation.

I've pushed those memories to the very back of my mind as an attempt to live a normal and happy life. Today, I let em flow. I came so close to stopping on my terrible, no-good, very bad run today. I needed something more than my will today, and so I thought about some of those awful comments and looks I've received over the past 20 years.  My run didn't become easier thinking about those things, but completing it without stopping became possible and then a reality. Maybe repressing those memories isn't good for the soul. Besides, I could use them for fuel.

You can't, or you won't?

When you think about it, our bodies are incredible. They can survive without food for three weeks. They shiver to avoid freezing to death. They can lift a car with a pump of adrenaline. We so often underestimate our own strength.

We do this so often that we spend a lot of our lives telling ourselves, I can't do this. 

I can't do it? Or I won't? I've always felt that way about fitness. I felt that way in other parts of my life too. I can't get this job because I'm not talented enough. I can't approach that person because they're "out of my league." I can't pass this test because I'm not smart enough. I can't produce a documentary because I'm not good enough.

I can't? Or I won't?

I can't lose weight because this is how I was built. I can't become a runner because my legs won't support my body. I can't? Or I won't?

The truth is, I just wasn't doing it. I wasn't trying because accepting defeat before you try is sometimes easier than facing the dreaded "F-word." Failure. So I started asking myself that question all the time. Is it true that I cannot reach this goal or am I simply picking comfort over the risk of failure? We waste one of God's greatest gifts to us, the ability to choose, because we want easy over hard, and guarantees over unknown outcomes. That's depressing and boring.

I'm done with depressing, and I'm most certainly done with boring.

People ask me all the time, "What changed?" How was I able to lose 170 pounds in 15 months? I can say that a lot of it has to do with waking up in the mornings and thinking, "I can do this if I really want to." Of course, an incredible support system is a close second, but seriously folks I don't have a crazier story than that. It has been mind over matter this whole time, and my weakest days are the ones when I start thinking negatively again. The days that I eat too much or choose the couch over my workout are just a glimpse of my past, the old Katie that believed it wasn't worth it to try...that she wasn't worth it. It's not that I can't do my workout or that I can't keep my hand by my side instead of reaching for six cookies over one. I'm just saying I won't do this today, because I'm feeling like I can't.

I've faced that several times over the past couple months. I've had a hard time staying on track, even though I'm training for a half marathon. It's actually an almost ridiculous goal for me to be running 13.1 miles in June. I'm condensing a 12 week training plan (for people who have been serious runners for a long time) down to 10. I've been in an endless battle with myself trying to decide whether or not I should do the 10K instead of the half. I made my decision today and I'm ready to share it.

A year ago I thought to myself, I can't jog a quarter of a mile. I went down to the track at 280 pounds and ran that quarter mile because for some reason I chose "can" over "won't" that day.  I know there will be things in my life that I just simply cannot do, but thankfully I've got use of both my legs, a strong heart, and an inhaler. I can complete a half marathon in June if I want to.

I'm reading a book and I really find a lot of value in this excerpt,

"Realistic goals, goals restricted to the average ambition level, are uninspiring and will only fuel you through the first or second problem, at which point you throw in the towel. If the potential payoff is mediocre or average, so is your effort."

I think it's true. We avoid lofty goals to avoid failure and to minimize the effort needed to succeed.

Today I ran eight miles. I spent the entire first mile thinking none other than, I can't do this. My foot was hurting, my knee felt like it was going to collapse. Eight miles? Hell no. Half marathon is out. 10K? Probably not. I started replaying every failure from the week. Then I thought about one of my friends who's been using the "can't" word a lot and it reminded me that I was really saying I wasn't going to do it. It took me another mile to really find my groove, but when I turned "can't" to "can", all of a sudden...I could. My foot pain disappeared and all of a sudden, my knee could carry me. I just kept thinking, I will make it through this mile...and the next one. My knees are weak, but my will is strong.

Now, I've got an ice pack on my right knee and a little soreness in my hip, but I'm alive and healthy.

I can't run a half-marathon?
That's just not true. I can. I will.
I could do the 10K and be pleased, but why do I need to constantly be realistic? I didn't think I could reach half the goals I have in the past year. I haven't met all of them, but I can keep trucking. I've had so many people who have shared their stories of success with me the past year.If I could poll them, I'd ask them just what it is that finally pushed them through the ambition barrier.

You can't nail that interview? You can't ace that test? You can't lose the weight? You can't step outside of your comfort zone?

You can't do it, or you won't?

The truth about Dad

I desperately wanted to see Michael Watson play on his senior night, my junior year of high school. I had followed the UMKC basketball team and watched Mike Watson lead the team in scoring all year. I vividly remember being completely devastated when I got grounded for not doing the dishes and missing out on that game I was really looking forward to. I thought to myself, I will never forgive you for this one, Dad.

It began with scenarios a lot like that, and even though I had idolized my dad for years, my attitude toward him slowly began to shift. I was 16. He was rolling into his mid-forties. We were both surrounded by people who loved us, but lost. The excruciating month of watching my mother die propelled us both into new responsibilities and paths neither of us expected. 

But tragedy is tricky. It brought my whole family together, and then I watched as we all fell apart. The truth is, I couldn't wait to run away to college and escape all of it; The disagreements, the arguing, and the ridiculous expectations. His relentless schedule never seemed out of the ordinary when my mom was alive, but suddenly his long hours spent away seemed hateful and heartless. I couldn't understand how he could be spending so much time with his job, his baby, really.

The next five years weren't a walk in the park, and even though I was away at college our relationship was still heavily strained. I spent one summer at home and vowed to never do it again. But jobless and hopeless, I returned home when I graduated. I'll be honest; It was a miserable nine months. I sometimes couldn't even believe I was related to him. I desperately wanted to make enough money to move out on my own.

But we grow up and we learn to see the big picture. Even my dying mother's words didn't really click with me until nearly ten years later. "See the big picture. Sometimes the details aren't as important." I watched my dad make, what may have been, the hardest decision of his life a few years ago. Although he maintained professionalism to the general public, I saw him tormented by his choices: Stay and watch his baby die or leave, let his baby live, and create new opportunity. When he followed his heart, for all the right reasons, he was criticized and ridiculed by none-other than...the baby, and a whole bunch of people he raised and loved. 

This scenario seemed eerily familiar to me. It sounded a whole lot like our relationship the seven years leading up to that time. I had a breakthrough within that experience, where I let myself forgive him for all the ways I thought he wronged me, all the things that were said that you can't unsay, and all those times I thought I needed him and he wasn't there. Because the truth about my dad is, he isn't perfect. He's made mistakes every day for the past 50 years of his life, just like the rest of us. But it's a life that has made such an impact on so many people that I can't even fathom it.

I saw that this past weekend when the KC Sports Commission honored him with the "Community Champion" award. Now everything makes a lot more sense, especially the time he dedicated to work. My dad has launched hundreds of careers including mine and several of my friends, been an advocate for the "little guy", jumped through hoops for others to keep their jobs, not-only accepted the new, but embraced them. He's spent countless hours away from home to raise his other family. He's done it without boasting or drawing attention to himself. 

I got to thinking about what a unique experience I had growing up being my father's daughter. I got to hangout with professional athletes, meet important people, and travel throughout the United States by my dad's side. I learned a lot of hard lessons being his daughter. I had to work hard, earn my respect, and...do the dishes (even with whooping cough). Tough love. I know we won't always see eye-to-eye, but I'll always respect him. I'm proud to call him my dad.

Here I am, and I find myself strangely defensive of a man I complained so much about growing up. And although I'm an easy-going type of girl, I find myself closest to legitimate anger when i think about the thanks and recognition he'll never receive. I believe that you work hard to create your own success. My dad taught me that. But even the old are young and stupid. We're all naive in thinking we're just that good, that it didn't take someone seeing our potential to get us to where we are today. 

You see, the truth about my dad is, he isn't perfect. But the truth is, he is good. I'm not just saying that because he's good at what he does, or because he's a good dad, husband, and brother. He's good because despite the bad times, the mistakes, the trials, his heart has always been in the right place and he has searched for the good in and for people. You're better and I'm better because of it. 

And I just wanted to let you know Dad, that I love you and I forgive you for not letting me see Michael Watson play in his senior game, although I'm sure he may never recover.

Dreaded treadmill

Thank you Missouri for letting me run in a tank top on Saturday and forcing me to run on a treadmill today to avoid the freezing temperatures. Before I started prepping for my half-marathon, I really preferred running on the treadmill over hitting the pavement. I have absolutely no idea why I felt that way.

My uncle was kind enough to let me come over and use his treadmill today after work. I just couldn't face 33 degrees and the rain/sleet mix. I thought it would be an easy three. I was very wrong. I had to run in intervals and it seemed to drag on forever. I'm actually pretty positive that's what forever feels like. I can't wrap my mind around how six miles felt so much better than three. 

Regardless, I've yet to miss a training day. I'm feeling really good about that. Positivity is key at this point.