When I was younger, I just wanted to be famous when I grew up…

I’m sure many people born in the 80’s heard the same old thing. The only jobs that were worthy of our time was doctor, lawyer, or a career requiring years of college and a lot of effort in educational or athletic endeavors. The big insult was “you’ll be flipping burgers.” It was such a prevailing idea that you had to become someone rich to be a productive member of society, I’d said I wanted to be an actress for years.

My high school drama teacher would repeatedly crush my hopes to tell me that I was not good at acting even after I was cast in minor roles in school plays by the other drama teacher. I’d move on from hoping I’d be an actress to wanting to be a journalist. I’d always been interested in writing, but I wanted to be on TV. I didn’t care about my writing as much as people knowing my name and my face. I wanted strangers to love me. Some part of me probably originated this blog in hopes of becoming famous or some sort of internet sensation.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized that I didn’t want people who don’t matter to me to express their opinions about my looks or my work assuming they have the right to do so to anyone “in the public eye.” I honestly don’t think the people who know me should be discussing those things, either. I appreciate that I’m not famous. I enjoy the people who read my blog and interact with me. I’ve never been particularly overwhelmed by comments or requests. I just like to write and share my experiences. It’s cathartic to get it out and share even if I’m somehow speaking into a void.

I’ve been in a creative slump lately despite wanting to discuss my relay race in Missouri, my upcoming functional fitness team competition, and resignation from my part time job. My brain locked my words inside and each time I’d open my editing page, I’d stare resentfully at the flashing cursor that asked me for words I didn’t have at my fingertips.

I’ve been meaning to starve my social media addiction for the sake of my mental health. I’ve done very little to help whittle down my online time. Just know that I’ve been doing pretty well and I’ve done some things that I’m proud of lately without sharing them on social media to harvest “likes,” for a hit of dopamine. I’ve had some realizations about the behavior of people.

Something I didn’t tell my social media when it happened: I got a new tattoo. I’d been thinking of it for some time. This was my first bit of creativity that I was able to get out of my head lately. Really far into my blog archives, it’ll show I drew an arrow on my left arm to remind myself to keep moving forward when I thought I couldn’t during long runs. I’d wanted it tattooed there prior to my 2017 marathon. Last year, my pastor, Mike Baker said “Faith moves us forward when the way seems impossible.” Immediately, I started to work on the design again trying to incorporate the word “faith” into the design until the word started to look strange and almost alien to me. Recently, I found a compass rose coin in a souvenir store and bought it intending to have that tattooed on my shoulder. I started to see designs incorporating the arrow and compass and I was immediately moved to work on the design again. Here is what I wound up with:

I absolutely love how it turned out.

Anyway, I nixed the word “faith” because I know the meaning and God knows the meaning.

Thanks for reading! I’ll come back this week to write some more about my running and lifting. Like I said, I enjoy writing. At least if writing were to make me famous, people would be less likely to judge my looks over my English usage. Especially the way I abuse past/present tense. Let me know if you have questions or comments.

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I’m a thinker. I also am a doer, but my thoughts are what I have to deal with.

Last time I wrote here, I was finally going to see a therapist for my issues. I have been seeing one and spent a few sessions spewing out the highlight and “lowlight” reels. I’d been assigned to recognize my thought patterns when I binge eat and most recently to stop attaching myself to the word “fat” in addition to the negative thoughts that I associate with the word. That one goes way back to my youth and is deeply ingrained into my mind.

I also said that I was more confident about my running in the previous post. I ran the 6.6k with very few stops to walk briefly due to the heat, but not pain. I still get sore in the plantar of my feet, but no heel pain while running has been a step in the right direction. I’ve been trying to train up to at least 6 miles so that when I run MO Cowbell, I can complete my half of the half marathon without much stopping to walk or stretch. I did 5 this weekend, which is the furthest run I’ve completed since my injury early this year. I’m cautiously optimistic that I’ll complete the run.

I am a thinker. I try to interrupt some of the more intrusive thoughts with prayer. I’ve been more aware of my internal dialogue while running and started using positive affirmations like: “I am strong,” “I am fast,” “I am doing the best that I can.” It actually helped. It helped when I remembered to do it. Otherwise, I have thoughts like “I’m really self aware and that’s why it isn’t my anxiety telling me people don’t like me. They don’t.” or “I don’t really work hard enough or I’d be stronger, thinner, faster than I am right now.” or “You were a gifted child in advanced classes and look at you now. A college dropout.” I’ll tell you what. No matter what mean thing you say to me, it couldn’t be meaner than the things I’ve said to myself in private. These thoughts enter unannounced and unwelcomed even when I’m feeling confident or optimistic.

You might be reading and thinking how that took a pretty dark turn quickly. It’s actually ok. I’m dealing with it. I am exploring where the beliefs expressed in those thoughts come from. I pull myself out of the thoughts by exploring my physical surroundings. I tell myself that what I’ve thought was wrong. Like I said, I also pray and remember that those thoughts aren’t who I am, but just passing through.

I think it really made sense when in therapy, I brought up my efforts vs my results and she told me that there were really only two options: 1) Give up/stop trying or 2) Keep going and see what happens. Well, I’m not giving up. I enjoy what I do or I’d find something different. So, I’ll run my training runs over the next 20 days. I’ll keep going to the gym to get ready for the competition I signed up for in October. I’ll keep eating healthy and adjusting to figure out how to feel my best.

I fight my mental illness with my fitness. So it makes sense that sometimes, my mental illness fights back and tries to drag me down. I’m attempting to shed more light into that darkness and it isn’t a foolproof method, but I’ll learn and I’ll get better at recognizing the reasons.

Thanks for reading! I hope you can find a sprinkle of light when the darkness sets in to battle it a little better. Let me know if you have any questions! Comments and shares are always welcome!

Here is me after 5 miles. I don’t look like I’m dead because I actually enjoyed it once I settled in:

I feel like I’ve reached a new level of adulting.

I’m not nearly as down as I was feeling. It took me a few weeks to fully get my courage up, but I made an appointment with a therapist. Like, a for real licensed professional. It took a week after I admitted I needed help to call the company that offered personal healthcare assistance, and then a week for them to find me a list of providers meeting my criteria, another week and a half for me to choose one from my internet research, and I finally made the phone call. I was glad I had the courage to leave a voicemail when there wasn’t an answer. I don’t know if anyone else feels this, but my voicemails have always been terrible. Especially when I’m calling a doctor’s office. I’ve prepared a list of things I need to work through including my body dysmorphia and an eating disorder I have trouble owning.

I feel that my weight gain and my body’s refusal to lose weight are the result of some greater problem, but tests conclude that it is wholly a matter of poor habits. It is difficult to know that despite feeling I’m making my best efforts, I’m not truly working hard enough. My clothes are tight and I’ll be heading back to work this week, which I’m extremely apprehensive about.

My running is improving despite a few setbacks by my plantar fascia. I had to bike for a running workout at the gym last week because my foot was hurting during a warm up run. This weekend, I was able to run about 3 miles pain free . It was faster than any of my recent runs. I made an appointment to help with the plantar fasciitis since what I’ve been doing isn’t enough to fend it off. I’m optimistic I will be able to run the 6.6k I have in less than two weeks without needing to stop or walk more than for water and that I’ll run my leg of the half marathon relay well. I just want to eventually get back to training 3 times a week and running a little further.

Most days, I’m still tired to the point of barely being able to keep my eyes open by late afternoon. Some days, I feel it even earlier. I would say it is my workouts, but rest days are the same even when I take a couple days off.

Despite setbacks and depression making me feel inadequate and like a big fat faker in life, I’ve been feeling like things could possibly change for the better. I feel empowered to actually make some of the changes myself.

Here’s some photos from last week:

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  Aurora ran with me, but bathed in the creek

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  Post run selfie.

Thanks for reading! I hope I haven’t been too negative for you guys lately. I keep thinking I’ll break free of the funk soon, but it keeps lingering. Next time, perhaps? We shall see…

At least I’m awake more…

I don’t feel as dark as I did the last time I posted. My depression isn’t pulling me as far down as before. Being tired and having a headache every day takes a toll on my mental health. This is especially frustrating when I feel that I try to maintain and improve my physical health on a daily basis. I’m in pursuit of an answer from my doctor and requesting that further tests are done. I’m excited and hopeful that I’ll find an answer, but I’m also ready for the disappointment of, “It’s nothing,” despite knowing that how I feel couldn’t possibly be caused by nothing.

Today, I backed down from my October half marathon. I didn’t completely withdraw from the race. Liz, my best friend, offered to transfer her half marathon registration to a relay team so we could each run half of the race. Good friend. This year, I won’t be getting the rematch with two miles of hills to try to beat my PR. I want to focus on staying physically able to run and trying to get faster. So far, I’m running 3-4 miles at a time twice a week. One day, I perform run/walk intervals and the other, I run the entire distance with a water stop about halfway through. I’m hoping to add in a 3rd weekly run, but I’ve not felt ready for it. When I sprint, I feel tightness in my arch and heel, where the plantar fascia is located. Since my injury to my left foot was a tear to the plantar fascia, I’m trying to make sure I do everything I can to keep all of that comfortable and “snap proof.”

My self esteem is low lately. I have weight gain and clothes that seem to fit me in a way I don’t like. My exhaustion led me to spending less time doing fun things with my kids. I had to lean heavily on my husband for help with simple tasks I normally have no problem completing. I have not seen any improvement in my athletic abilities despite trying. I assume that people don’t like me or look down on me all of the time, which makes me distance myself from social situations or worry after I’ve encountered people. I think of myself as “ugly,” and unattractive. I give myself credit for being self aware, but I know I’m only looking for evidence to support the negative.

I’m still trying and applying myself. I’m reading a book and bought the next one to read already. I already had books I’ve gotten and not read, but I found more I’m excited about. The running, I keep up with my two days even when I don’t really feel like it. I don’t choose to have depression or to feel how I do. In fact, I try to dig myself out. It takes a lot of effort, but I’ll say I’ve made progress for myself and I’m finally advocating and being assertive for me.

I am [cautiously] optimistic that I’ll break out of this cloud and that the things that I work on will [eventually] improve. I still take care of myself. That would probably be my best tidbit of advice for something seeking to pull away from a depressive state. Do what you can to take care of your physical being even if it means just drinking enough water.

Check me out. I lightened my hair to blonde. I’m getting used to it.

I also finally put together a squat rack I received a few weeks ago and couldn’t muster the energy to assemble. Baby steps, I tell ya.

Thanks for reading! I hope this is just as valuable to you as when I’m not in one of my down swings. Let me know if you have any questions or suggestions on subjects for me to write about.

I actually did things…

For the past month, I’ve been in the most crippling depressive state I can recall having. I’m not saying I’m the most depressed I’ve ever been. I’m just more disabled by the exhaustion than ever. It has been so bad, I’ve required a nap each day. I can barely muster the energy to make dinner. I don’t want to eat anything unless it doesn’t require I prepare it. My clothes don’t fit because my weight keeps rising. The effects of the depression are only digging the hole deeper.

Today, I didn’t plan anything. I didn’t reserve a slot at the gym figuring I’d be up if I was going to go. My husband went a couple hours away to help his parents take care of some things. Last night, I let the kids share the big bed with Aurora the red nosed pitbull and me. I wouldn’t have the opportunity to nap today because there would be nobody to help me with the kids. I ordered grocery delivery. I cleaned my house. I have been simply doing the bare minimum to keep my head above water, so the house needed it. I know I haven’t emerged from this awful depression. The fact that I was able to do it all and not feel completely worn out has me hopeful.

My husband, Matt has been making dinner, reassuring me about my concerns with my clothes not fitting, and ensuring that I’m ok before leaving me alone. I haven’t really told anyone else except my bestie, Liz. I’ve been going through the motions of life as a reflex. I don’t understand how people can survive this. My brain was not letting me take care of myself.

Right now, all I can do is plan things so I know there’s a future. I’m reading a book and I’ve already bought the next one I’ll read. I planned a couple of meals for next week that I think are easy to put together or that I will look forward to eating. I’ve started training for my half marathon in October and I’m up to 4 miles consecutively. Even as I write this, there’s a small, cynical part of me that says “yeah, right.”

I hate that depression exists and that I get to be someone that can’t quite get treatment right. I balk at telling my doctor when it gets this bad because I don’t want to up another medication and max out again to where I need a completely different drug. I don’t want to medicate at all, realistically. I’m still mad that didn’t work out when we tried.

Thanks for reading. I didn’t feel like writing, but I was compelled to share this little win since I don’t have much else to talk about.

I’ll leave you with my sweat activated shirt that says “Maximum Effort” because it has literally taken me the maximum effort to do the bare minimum each day lately.

I seem to battle myself more than anything else.

I returned about a week ago from a wonderful beach vacation at the Gulf of Mexico in Alabama. I have photos and fond memories of the time spent with family. Even the 14 hours in the car each way contained unique memories from this trip.

My mind decided that post vacation was the perfect time to nose dive into a deep depression. I’d been dealing with medical issues once again. Despite being on birth control pills, I have been shedding tissue and blood from my uterus for more than 2 weeks. I have had cramps and fatigue. I gained 15-20 pounds without much of a change in my diet. Blood tests came back normal for anything related to vitamin deficiency and thyroid problems. I feel like everything is in my head and like a crazy person for trying to find some deeper reason that I keep having problems like this instead of accepting that more medicine has helped. The confidence I had last week on vacation quickly deteriorated. I saw photos of myself and was completely embarrassed at my size. I looked in the mirror and I couldn’t believe I didn’t wear makeup nor did I understand how I’ve looked like this and felt ok with myself.

I was so proud when I posted this to my social media from vaca. When I got back. I was picking myself apart.

Everything seemed to fall apart Wednesday night at bedtime because I couldn’t put into words why I was so upset except that I felt so defeated. I couldn’t contain my tears, and crying is something I’ve always tried to do as little as possible. I thought to myself that I shouldn’t even bother working out anymore because it doesn’t really matter. I still haven’t accomplished any of the things I’ve been working on and I can’t run far or fast anymore. I’m also not going to lose any weight from it because as hard as I’ve been trying, I still gained weight. I reluctantly set my alarm to go to the gym the next day despite wondering why I bother. As competitive as I”ve always been, my efforts have never put me at the top and it’s unlikely they ever will.

When I showed up for my usual Thursday bench workout, I was alone. Good. I needed solitude. I went ahead with the workout and when people started to show up for the first class of the day, I decided to stay for that workout. It may be ridiculous to think that one workout session could have saved my life, but it came close. It snapped me back to reality a little bit.

I don’t have my confidence back. I changed out of the outfit I’d planned for the gym today in favor of longer shorts and a loose fitting top. I went and got a haircut and a tan. I planned out my meals for the coming week knowing that it hasn’t really gotten me anywhere closer to my goals. Much of it feels empty to me. I’m still putting for an effort at life. I’m trying to claw my way out of the darkness by focusing on the little bit of light I can see. I don’t think I pass it on to others when I feel this way. I hope I don’t. I hope I still encourage people and lift them up even when I can’t see the positive in my own life.

Thanks for reading! I’ll be starting up half marathon training for Cowbell in October soon. It’s a longer training schedule than usual because I need to get my miles up to be able to start the training. I have seriously considered taking a step back from running long distance for a while. I actually enjoy the challenge of crossfit and I want to improve there as much as I can. I’ll be in touch! As always, feel free to drop me a comment or a message! I love to hear feedback and despite my dysfunctional self talk, I take constructive criticism from others pretty well.

We’re all really just improvising anyway.

I started to write a few times last week and I couldn’t seem to find the words for what I wanted to say. I’ve been hard on myself for gaining weight that I can definitely see on myself in the mirror and on the scale. It has impacted the way I view myself as a whole. Why can’t I control my eating? Why can’t I just be consistent? Why is it so hard for me to avoid things that I have to go out of my way to eat? Why can’t I be good at [diet, crossfit, being an adult]?

I started to wonder why I’m not really skilled at anything in particular. I often start this as a way to shame myself for not feeling good enough. I pick myself apart. One of the most common things I find over and over is that I have not one thing I can point out and say that I’m great at doing. I usually get very kind responses when I go back to this in my blog posts and I am appreciative. I just tend to compare myself to others and find ways to come up short.

When I really stopped and observed other people doing everyday, mundane things, I realized that many were basically winging it. The difference between them and I in some of the things was simply confidence. I even overheard someone say something similar to another person and it inspired me to write about it. *I’m not saying that a skilled surgeon is going into a difficult surgery and coming out successfully due to confidence. I’m saying that it can often apply in many of the skills we commonly are concerned about in ourselves: health, parenting, “adulting”, relationships, friendships, hobbies [especially fitness].

Comparison really can steal joy from your life if you let it. Everyone starts somewhere and the people who are open to learning are going to get the most out of the things that matter most to them.

I think another important factor is that no matter how much time is being put into something, there’s always room to improve. That doesn’t mean the investment of time didn’t result in something of value. It just means that we’re willing to take that payout and invest more for a higher value again. The real loss is if we just walk away and quit.

Yes, it is different if we have to give up. I understand that I’ve taken a few steps back because of my injury. I’m extremely frustrated with having to put back in time and effort I already have before just to get back to where I once was. I also intend to surpass that point, though. So I have to put in more than I expected.

I finally ran 3 miles recently, which is the longest run since December. I set out to run/walk up to 2 miles, but I was feeling good and had no pain. I used run/walk intervals of 5 minutes running, 1 minute walking and I made it all 3 miles with no pain during or after. FINALLY! I’m slowly coming back. I’ve not always been the best about optimism in the face of this challenge. I have been pretty good at shifting back to positive, though.

Here’s a pic of me post run:

That pace even with walk intervals. Nice.

Thanks for reading! I hope what I shared has value to you. Please feel free to ask me any questions in comments or message me. I love feedback! If you have a suggestion for a future post, I’d love to hear!

Things are rolling at a glacial pace…

I anticipated healing from my plantar fascia tear taking a long time. I felt like had a pretty good handle on the timeline. I have been doing my stretching and strength exercises to rehab my plantar fascia and strengthen my calves to prevent future injury. I’ve what my coach said and scaled my workouts accordingly [most of the time]. I’ve gotten impatient and tried to move ahead and done movements I wasn’t cleared for. Then, I got put back in my place and reminded that moving forward too fast could set me back for even more time than necessary.

I tried running twice. The first run, I did a mile around my neighborhood doing intervals. I felt some pain in my forefoot as opposed to my arch or heel. I’ve had issues there before. It’s commonly known as ‘turf toe’, which I thought was funny when it happened to NFL players. Not as funny when I got it. My second run, I set out for a mile on a flat part of trail. It was slow and hard to push through. There wasn’t pain during, but I had a lot of soreness in my heel afterward.

Neither of those runs were what held me back from going further. What happened was kind of predictable and I didn’t really tell anyone about it or post to my socials. I did an obstacle course run. When I say I stunk at it, I’m being generous to myself and my ego. I probably got 1 point on the whole course because I didn’t finish most of the challenges. I did have fun and would totally make an a** of myself again for the experience. The end of the race was the “warped wall,” which I got myself up and over. I jumped down onto a mat and landed hard on my uninjured right foot. I wanted to protect the left one. Dumb. I should have landed on my rear end. I felt pain in my foot, but when I pulled my shoe off I didn’t see any swelling. Later in the evening, it was swollen and it hurt to rotate. I’d sprained my ankle. Shoot. I babied it most of the week to allow healing time. It went away without needing to see a doctor. Thank God. I don’t know that I could have mentally handled another setback in this recovery.

Poorly planned landing…

I intend to try running again this week using intervals. I also intend to work in some cardio on a machine of some sort for 30 minutes for more a couple times a week. I hadn’t taken into account how badly my endurance would suffer by taking off of running for so long.

I haven’t been swimming because the pool where I would practice requires reservations and I typically don’t plan very far in advance for that. I don’t think a triathlon is in the cards this year. I do look forward to trying to train for Mo Cowbell Half Marathon in October. That’s really the only race I have on the schedule and its because I deferred it to this year from last. I’m hoping to be able to do more things with crossfit. I’m still working out most days of the week with that. My confidence in myself with that ebbs and flows. Some days, I have no idea why I keep trying and others, I can’t believe I went so long without it in my life. I honestly enjoy it.

My eating is still out of control. I can’t seem to be consistent. I eat too much or I wait too long to eat and feel sick either way. I started doing a subscription meal service for dinner to help with the problems that were stemming from me being frustrated planning meals. I’ve been sloppy with my lunchtime eating. Part of that is my work hours. School, and my job, will be coming to a close in a few weeks and that will change my schedule once again. My overall plan is to prep the meals in advance.

I’m extremely disappointed in myself for not losing more weight by now because vacation is quickly approaching and I’d hoped to feel confident in my two piece bathing suit. I don’t even feel confident in a t shirt and jeans right now. I know much of it is that I’m slipping into depression again. I can feel the exhaustion, irritability, and self doubt setting in and I’m trying to fight against it most days. I’m just so tired.

Thanks for reading! I will try to write more than once a month. It’s hard when I dip into depression because everything feels more like a chore.

I feel “tenacious” is a good term here.

Tenacious means not readily relinquishing a position, principle, or course of action; determined. I’m going to use that term instead of “obsessed.” I am determined to get back to running, to get on the right track with my nutrition, and to get better at my workouts. I find one of my most positive traits is my tenacity/persistence.

I have been stretching every day to help with plantar fasciitis that I actually suffered in both feet, but was more severe on the left side when it partially ruptured. I’ve been doing exercises to increase the strength I need in my legs to help prevent a repeat of the injury or a new one on the other side. I’ve been more consistent because I am consumed by the urge to run again. The thought of not going back to running has crossed my mind. I’m not fond of that option. I’m aware that I probably won’t be back to long distance for some time and I might be done indefinitely with 2 half marathons a year.

I’m tracking my food on a free version of My Fitness Pal and participating in a free challenge with my gym called the Lazy Macro Challenge. I’m eating healthy, but having a rough time avoiding snacks that are high in sugar and useless calories [hello peanut butter and chocolate]. I had my body composition measured today and the results weren’t great, but I had a good chat about it and I feel confident I’ll get where I need to be once I get myself on track. I’d probably have an easier time if I could run, though. Not because I want to outrun the snacks. I don’t crave as much junk when I run regularly. How do I solve that? I’m adding other cardio back to the mix on the days I used to have running. That way, it won’t be as hard when I finally go back.

I’m starting to become convinced I’ll never really be good at Crossfit, but I’m determined to get a few things right. Besides, I am getting stronger. My legs gained muscle since my last body composition measurement and I was pleased. I also used heavier dumbbells for bench pressing this week than I have in the past. I’m still tormented by attempting my first pull up. I think I’m even more obsessed with that goal because I can’t yet work on trying to box jump or string together a bunch of jump rope double unders. I’m having to keep my feet planted for olympic barbell movements and it adds a level of complexity. I often feel out of place and wonder why I’m applying so much of myself to something I know is basically sisyphean. I can’t quit, though. I don’t know how I would.

I have meant that literally sometimes. I finished a half marathon once where I was miserable, but didn’t know how to quit. My finish time wasn’t actually bad. The conditions were despairing. I was dressed too warm, the wind seemed to be head wind no matter which direction I turned, and I went out too fast and lost my power halfway through the race which had a hilly second half. I carry”I don’t know how to quit,” with me almost as a mantra. I might feel discouraged sometimes. I wondered why I didn’t just give up because it seemed like just when I’ve dusted off from a fall, another obstacle appeared and there was no end in sight. I still carry on. It isn’t really that I don’t know how to quit, though. I don’t WANT to give up. My faith, my God will carry me through if I need Him. I also want to be strong and I know that it’s built through discomfort. Those moments when I don’t see a way and I push through have been the ones I remember. Those have been the moments that helped build my strength.

I’m impressed with my body, though. I have grown 3 babies in my belly. I ran a marathon, 9 official half marathons, countless 5k races, and mentored people running 5k all the way up to half marathons. I can deadlift more than I’ve ever weighed in my life and I can jerk 100 pounds over my head. I’m trying to take care of a magnificent machine here and I need to stop and appreciate how badass I am sometimes. Especially when I’m picking on the things I can’t do. Yet.

Thanks for reading! I hope you’re brewing some goals or in the midst of conquering something. I also hope you give yourself grace and stop to think of how much you CAN do.

20 workouts in March! Gotta stay on track.

All healed. Now what?

My doctor said my plantar fascia tear has fully healed. He released me from his care and advised me to obtain a home program from my physical therapist. I wrapped up doing strengthening exercises, stretching and getting electrical stimulation (e-stim) to my foot 3 days a week and got my home exercise plan. I left with an appointment in 3 weeks to check in on my mobility and pain. When I started, my left foot was weaker when I resisted inversion (pushing my feet out like a duck against pressure on the outsides) and my left ankle couldn’t flex as far as my right by 3cm. I’ve been terribly inconsistent with doing my exercises more than once a day and for the amount of time I need to. I’m impatiently awaiting the day I can run and jump again.

Neither doctor explained exactly how to go about increasing my activity to get back to normal. The exercises don’t change in time or frequency as I get stronger. I have a timeline of when to try things out, but I’m not sure how to get back running. I’ve been looking at articles and recommendations for people returning from injury and the consensus is that I’m not ready to try to run yet. It’s unlikely I will be ready for another couple of weeks. Mentally, I’m ready NOW. The time alone, listening to music, and clearing my head was important to me and to my mental wellbeing.

I still haven’t lost the weight I’d put on from being inconsistent with my eating habits. It’s because I’m better about planning my meals, but still not controlling my snacks. I’m not to the point that clothing fits poorly, but I’m frustrated with myself for hindering my own progress and even taking a few backward steps. I’m having trouble overriding my own “just this one time,” thoughts to justify the behavior.

I have been consistently working out. Last week, I was concerned that a local uptick in covid-19 cases would interrupt that as well. Fortunately, it didn’t. I was able to get a new PR on my push press one day. I took the weekend off from working out and got some much needed rest.

Last week, I went back to working 4 days a week instead of just two days. The number of kids also doubled. It was exhausting, but overall fun to see everyone interact. I am getting in well over 10k steps on the days I work, so my feet are at least getting used to a lot of walking, which I hope prepares me for running.

I have a positive outlook on the situation. I’m going to run soon. I’ll probably be able to do at least one of the “Murph” miles running on Memorial Day. Those who have done it know I mean the first mile and not that last one at the end.

Here’s a totally natural photo that’s definitely not professionally taken (By Annie LeNeve Photography)