Week Workouts and Thoughts about "Forks Over Knives"

I went on a bike ride today with my littlest in tow in the trailer. Her and her baby and stuffed dog. There really is something to be said for having three kids in school and one 25 pounder at home. It makes getting exercise done a tad easier. We biked around the nearby neighborhoods, up and down hills, for 9 miles. I chilled out mentally to my Priscilla Ahn Pandora station while my thighs and bum buuuuuurrrrned. And if I was being honest--which I generally am, almost to a fault--those areas could use all the burn they can get.

(Workouts so far this week: Monday was an hour of Zumba and a half hour walk after the kids were in bed. Tuesday I got my tired bum out of bed and went for an 4 mile run/1 mile walk before the sun was up. Then P90X Ab Ripper and a few reps of push ups and squats.)

Today my brain is full of thoughts on a movie I watched on Netflix yesterday. "Forks Over Knives", a film promoting a plant-based diet. It really is something for everyone to see whether you are a vegetarian or not. The evidence that eating meat and dairy is directly related to cancer is astounding.

While I don't plan on becoming a full blown vegetarian any time soon--Hey! I like a good juicy steak sometimes too!--I do believe that having a diet full of fruits and vegetables and whole grains can NOT be a bad thing. I have never really struggled to eat my fruits and veggies (Thank you, Mom and Dad!), I've never been all that big on meat, and over the last year I gradually cut most dairy out of my diet on my own. So...I'm already kind of leaning that way.

My seven year old son has been allergic to milk since birth. My husband and I have always fretted that he is not and will not develop properly due to lack of all that "healthy" milk fat. "Milk does a body good", right? According to "Forks Over Knives", Dee may be better off than all of us! If nothing else, I'm grateful to let go of the guilt I've felt since we discovered his dairy allergy. Turns out there is evidence that you can live, and live well, without milk. (yea!)

My husband is not as impressed as I am. The man loves his meat. I think he might be more accepting of one of our children telling us they are homosexual than they want to be a vegetarian. (I HOPE I am joking about that.) He is pretty suspicious about this whole vegan thing and thinks it's just another thing I've concocted up to make him suffer. As if serving fruits and vegetables consistently at the dinner table wasn't enough.

I have no idea what the future will bring for our family, especially with the antagonism I feel from my spouse. Honestly, his opinion needs to be taken into account too. But I do feel we would only be doing good to eat even more fresh fruits and vegetables, more whole grains, less processed food, and less meat. (This is something the scriptures have told us anyway!) As the mother and key influencer in my family's life I need to learn how to prepare more vegetarian meals and in such a way that they are appealing to my kids and even my manly meat-eater.

Have you seen "Forks Over Knives"? What are your thoughts?

Define: "Runner"

This week I have been asking myself a lot of questions. Or maybe just lots of questions that basically boil down to one question.

What qualifies one as a "runner"?

I ask myself this because one day I want to be a "runner".

I enjoy running. It makes me feel powerful and amazing and brilliant and dynamic and proactive and accomplished and just about every other synonym you can find in a thesaurus under the word "awesome". I run three days a week. I have finished a 5K and a 10K race. I am already registered and paid for a half marathon in September. In the back of my mind I have this craving to finish a full marathon some day.

The desire is definitely there.

But if I were to videotape myself running and post it for others to see, I imagine "others" wouldn't classify me as a "runner".

I weigh over 200 pounds.
My shoes should have been replaced ages ago.
My workout clothes consist of ratty T-shirts and worn-out exercise pants bought on clearance 5 years ago.
My mile time is probably well over 10 minutes.
I've only run in two races, a 5k and a 10k.
I didn't run consistently through the fall and am just starting to run routinely again with the new year.
And when I say "run" I probably should say something more like "wog" (walking/jogging).

So, am I a "runner"???

It's not a rhetorical question. I want to know what a person must do to become such. Tell me.

At the same time, I don't want anyone to figuratively pat me on the back with lovely words such as "No worries, mate. You're a *cough* runner."

Please. Don't "Sweet Spirit" me. I know I'm not the prettiest girl at the ball, but I want to know that I belong at the ball. And if I don't belong at the ball, how do I get in? Without sneaking through the back exit that is.

Never mind how un-"runner" I am now. I can buy new shoes, new clothes. I can train more. I will be under 200 someday and someday very soon.

But...There are people walking amongst us that you just know. They run.

They are lean and long.
They carry water bottles.
They wear spandex. Confidently.
They rock a messy ponytail.
They drive Subaru's.

These people, these runners, migrated in concentrated masses at a hotel the day before my 10K race back in September. The runners had come to pick up their bibs and to mingle with like-minded people.

I knew it from the second I stepped out of the car. I didn't belong.

I tried not to hunch and hide as I stood beside my sister who was running the half marathon the next day, who is a "runner". Many people simply ignored me as they immediately embraced her as one of their own, animatedly talking to her about things like "stride" and "pace" and "PRs".

I knew what they were talking about. I had read several books on running. I had trained. I had lost 50 pounds in the process. Yet, I wasn't a runner. Not that day. And maybe not even this day that I write these words.

This year, while I don't intend on wearing spandex or purchasing a Subaru, I will walk amongst those runners as one of their own kind. This year I won't be ignored. This year I will become a runner.

Whatever that is exactly.

I am Mom. Hear me run.

5:10 am.

The baby wakes

Ready to be fed.

Ever the good mother

I rescue her from her nocturnal cage.

As she eats

Toasty and nuzzled by my side

I ponder on Frost and his two roads.

Such deep thoughts for such a shallow hour.

I ask myself

Which road do I take?

The well traveled road,

The one that lets me lay here toasty and nuzzled between sleeping babe and sleeping “Babe”?

Or do I take "the road less traveled",

The literal road that asks for an RSVP of Tennis shoes and sweat?

I chose the latter.

“I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.”

As I emerge from the warmth of the house I strap on Orion’s Belt

And take a greedy swig from the Big Dipper.

The constellations are my running companions

As is the wind that grouchily shoves at me and grumbles,

“Go back to bed. Go back to bed.”

But there is Frost in the wind

And as I run I take the literal road less traveled by:

A new running path.

One that takes me away from my rut of a route routine.

I run in solitude as the stars slyly wink at me, silently cheering me on.

The twinkling headlights from early morning travelers

Connect in manmade constellations.

They travel a different path than I.

I run

Uphill

I run

Past a cluster of cranky teenagers biding at the bus stop.

I cast my eyes to the ground,

Embarrassed that I’m far from the teenage dream

But soundlessly giggling with wicked premonitions of paunchy bellies and receding hair lines.

I run

Determined to propel myself through the entire distance.

With a half and three miles behind me

I finish.

And just as I enter my house

The sun peeks over the mountains

And gives me a swat on the bum as if to say

“Job well done! I’ve got this.”

Another day has hardly begun

And I am yet again accomplished as a runner.

I traveled the road less traveled by.

I gave wear where wear was wanting.

And as my day is underway

I can see

That it has made “all the difference”.

The Moment

Last week I found myself running on a mountain road before the sun had risen.

It was a moment.

One I thought would never be my moment.

I thought running was for skinny people, ambitious people, young people, rich people, different people, crazy people. Not ME people.

But here I was...

running
up
a
mountain

and enjoying it no less!

The air was laced with the scent of pine trees.
There were birds singing cheery early morning tunes.
The rest of the campground was silent with sleeping campers.
The sky was just beginning to brighten with the first rays of the sun.

It was a moment to be savored.

It was a moment I realized something startling.

It was not very long ago that I was pushing, struggling, gasping to run to the end of my neighborhood block.

And now I'm jogging UP a mountain?! and feeling alive and ambitious and amazing and able while doing it.

Who is this new Evelyn? This girl is so different from the girl I was a few months ago. If someone had told me how quickly this physical and mental transformation could happen I would have scoffed at them.

No way.

No way can I be happy.
No way can I run.
No way can I run a mile or two or more.
No way can I lose this weight that keeps me prisoner physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, socially, romantically.
No way.

YES WAY!

No, life isn't perfect peaches, roses and rainbows now that I can run more than 3 miles at a time or because I have lost 40 pounds. Every day is a struggle in one way or another.

But, yes, I can do so much more than I knew I could. I CAN lose 60 more pounds. I CAN truly enjoy running and exercise. I CAN run a 10K. I CAN complete a half marathon. I CAN be more than I have resigned myself to be. I CAN pick up my kids without hurting. I CAN wear clothes that fit. I CAN be with people without wishing the earth would swallow me whole.

And I realized all of this in the matter of one moment.

It was a beautiful moment.

Have you had your moment yet?