2014 W&S Thanksgiving Day Race Packet

A winter race packet, I’ve learned, is different than the packets of warm-weather races.  And it should be, because if the summer elements get to you on the event course, you can stop; cool down if you’re overheated; rehydrate if you’re carrying water; flag down a race volunteer if you’re desperate.  If you stop in freezing temperatures, you start dying!  Hypothermia, who has started the race behind you, is catching up and is poised to run you over like a freight train.  You’re liable to fall into a snow bank and then you’re really doneski.  You’re a new Ötzi the ice mummy and they’re not discovering you until spring thaw.

That may be a tad overstating it, but there are certain precautions one must take to stay safe and warm while exercising in the winter, and the Western & Southern Thanksgiving Day Race packet reflects the need to dress appropriately.   Included is a pair of blue knit gloves, with touch-screen fingertips, that will block the wind from blowing away body heat.

The long-sleeved technical shirt is, by far, my favorite of the year.  It’s 100% polyester and will lay soft and loose in between a base layer and a jacket.  The graphic, with its Thanksgiving colors and with Cincinnati’s skyline and iconic buildings, fits both the holiday and the race place perfectly.  It’s bold and beautiful and pops against the brownish-green that, despite its innate drabness, possesses a lovely sheen.

The bib is has a disposable timing chip adhered to the back, meaning that I won’t have to worry about losing it or failing to return it against penalty of a surcharge—more a relief than you might imagine and the way of the future.  The bib also has the race graphic on it, so it won’t be as big a deal when I cover the shirt logo with my race number.  Safety pins were out to grab at packet pickup, so if I’ve misplaced them between then and race day, it’s my own fault!

If the best packet I’ve gotten gets the fullest marks, this perfect packet is completed with a Pure Protein bar, a voucher for a free premium salad from McDonald’s, and the race instructions.  I’m so excited to start my Thanksgiving holiday with this special event and anticipate that it will be the first of an enduring tradition.  The 105^th running of the Thanksgiving Day Race will be my first but not my last!

The Proof Flowing Through My Veins

Yesterday was my 6 month follow-up with my family doctor, and it was nothing but good news and a great experience.  As soon as I walked through the door, the office girls exclaimed about how good I looked, how trim I was getting, and how much younger I appear.

When the nurse brought me back from the waiting room, she recorded my weight for the doctor’s records, something that, at over the 400 pound capacity, I was unable to do for years.  She took my blood pressure, quick and easily—without having to go and search out the bigger, obese-sized cuff—and once again it was even better than “normal” standard of 120/80 and way lower than they’d ever measured: 111/67!

For the third time that morning, I related to the nurse the key points in my journey thus far—how I work out and how often, the major changes in my new, healthy diet, and the events and races I’ve completed.  It’s become a bit of a stump speech, one that seems to hold people’s attention and elicits questions based on their own hurdles separating them from the healthier “way to be.”  But if this hard-headed reformer can do it, anyone ready for the lifestyle change can do it as well!

I feel confident in telling my story, having finally internalized that my hard work has resulted in the changes I see in the mirror, can feel in the fit of my clothes, and in the improvement in my emotions and energy.  To the individuals I talk to, I return nothing but positive, encouraging responses.  If I hear a silly, albeit heartfelt, excuse as to “why I can’t” or “why I can’t right now,” I offer my perspective based on my experiences.  Maybe when they’re ready to change they’ll remember the friendly, supportive, made-a-big-change Mark and won’t hesitate to reach out.

Most times they say that I’m an inspiration as a way of closing our conversation, to which I have to try my hardest not to cringe or refute in humble embarrassment.  My confidence hasn’t caught up to being able to accept that I have the ability to inspire others (or arouse, humor, etc., another; I’m a work-in-progress!), but as I sit here musing on it, I am glad that my example has the potential to inspire in such a healthy, life-expanding way!

By the time the headliner entered the examination room, I was talked out and ready to hear some good news.  My doctor told me how proud he was of me, and how well I looked.  Some people, he said, look ashy, devoid of color, or without zest, when they lose so much weight, yet I looked not only much thinner but much healthier.  He said that reclusion is embedded on the way you act, look, and talk, and on all three counts he could tell I was much better. Don’t go back in the basement! he joked (though I was a bedroom hermit, not a basement caveman, thank you very much, Doctor!).

Turning to my blood work results, he said that my cholesterol and sugar levels were perfect.  My vitamins were right where they needed to be, and that I must be getting out of doors because my Vitamin D was among the highest he’s seen all year!  Knowing what I am doing and what support network backs me, he bade me to keep up the good work and told me that I didn’t need to come back until well into the new year.

I knew what that meant, and when I told the scheduler, she knew as well: in coming back in six months instead of every month or quarter I had previously, the doctor is a lot less concerned about an ever-present, catastrophic threat to my health, that I truly am on the road to Wellville.  Reflecting on how they reacted, there was a great deal of relief among the office staff that has known me for so long and cares for and about my health.

Driving home, I compared how great I felt on this trip to how good I felt on one made about six years before.  I was sequestering myself in my room, emotionally broken and eating to fill the void.  My doctor could tell that I was depressed, and as I had been depressed for many appointments prior, put me on an anti-depressant.

I remember what mood-lightening relief I felt having the reason for my malaise—depression—and its solution—a prescription.  Over half a decade later, after changes in medication and a great deal of therapy, I lucked into winning the contest which prize contained the Answer.  The answer lies not in a pill but is found within you.  Consistent hard work, diet and exercise are the momentum-builders that get the freight train (Chugga-chuggah!) up to speed and will drive you to Providence.  Here’s to never slowing down!

Early Mornings, Early Nights

It’s unfortunate that when one has a lot of reportable things going on, one finds oneself without the time to record it…

In the latter part of an already busy week, Laurie invited me, half jokingly, to a 6 a.m. group training Thursday morning.  As I knew she was adding this in lieu of group training today, when Laurie is out-of-town—and since this year has been all about trying new things, and since the more time I get to hang out with Laurie, the happier I am—I committed to go.

Setting a new earliest alarm on my phone and arriving at the club before 6 a.m., I was carried by the excitement of the novel.  I also liked assuming the mantle of the super-dedicated—those who, while others are in bed, cut time from their sleep to add exercise to their schedules—these, the highly functional.  In order to be high functioning all the time, one must start being high functioning some of the time, and Thursday morning I was among the high functioning individuals.

Once I got going I was fine.  I took a cup of coffee to the exercise floor, and it soured my stomach; but the endorphins pumping in my early morning brain put me in a great mood for the day.  It’s much more heartening having the sun rise with your working out, rather than it setting, like during our Tuesday night groups.  It’s rather counter-intuitive, but when I exercise to begin the day, I have a more vivacious energy throughout the day.

I was nice and tired and ready for bed Thursday evening, which was perfect because, if I wanted to do everything I wished to do, I needed to start my day early Friday morning.  Putting my alarm-set smartphone away from my bed, there was no hitting the snooze button, as I was forced to get up and at ‘em.  I went to the hospital to get fasting blood work, ahead of a doctor’s appointment that I am sure will vindicate my healthy diet and clean living.  Eating a breakfast of cereal en route to the Club, I noticed how much more I was getting done by getting up early.

After a small group in my favorite class—kick boxing—I showered, dressed and was ready to do my tasks for the day.  It’s said that it takes two weeks of routine before a new habit sets in.  If I can continue to get up with a purpose early each morning and go to bed early, with no need for a nap in between, I will set forth a fruitful basic schedule that would serve me well in going for my goals.  Here’s to keeping it up! 

Five Seasons before 6--An representation of my bleary-eyed arrival

Navigating the Halloween Minefield

Halloween opens a scary season for this dieter.  In a short two months we’ll go from today’s sweets holiday, to the overeating of Thanksgiving, to the combination blowout of sweets and overeating on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.  Then, a week later, to make sure everyone’s at their years heaviest—just in time for resolutions—we eat for New Year’s.

Well, no more for this new man!  With a vein of new confidence gained by finally getting under 300lbs and especially by completing the half marathon (something that many much fitter people haven’t done!), and readied by the hard physical work done with Laurie and steadied by the mental bolstering of Mindy, I don’t want any backsliding into old habits or to even tarry on the trip towards my goal.

 

Tah-Dah!  This ain't the emblem of the Fatmobile!

Wanting to finish the holiday season lighter than when I entered it, I was tempted to try a big goal: No sweets for a hundred days!  But I know myself, and I just know that when I meet my first challenge, say a delectable caramel-ly treat this Halloween, I would end up delusionally reasoning and bargain: 3 days in, 97 to go, I’ll just submit to temptation and start over again.  By some sort of magic I’ll be strong enough to resist the sweet in another 3 day’s time. 

Instead I recognize that I am a food addict that nearly bargained himself to an early, spoon-dug food/fat grave, and that I’m strong enough to make it through these challenging days if I focus and fight these pathological urges.  To use a recovering addiction maxim, you’ve got to take it one day at a time, and so my goal is to get through tonight and tomorrow without eating Halloween candy.  Then my goal will be to not eat any of the liquidated remainder candy from the grocery that inevitably makes its way into the house. 

The days of successful goals will add up and I’ll finish the 100 days in the new year much lighter and much happier for having proved my new determined will.  That’s the plan, let’s hope all goes well.  Happy Halloween!

Crossing a Reassuring Threshold

My weight loss progression has yielded me some bad news and some wonderful news this week.  The bad is that I am still considered obese by my body-mass index.  But for the first time since junior high school, I am no longer morbidly obese!

Yes, I feel truly blessed to be back  on the healthy side of that great health risk divide—with its high blood pressure, diabetes, heart disease, sleep apnea, high cholesterol, joint disease, esophageal reflux, incontinence, and reduced life expectancy that one risks.

As I write down that depressing list of debilitating conditions, I can’t claim to have returned from my time in the realm of the morbidly obese undamaged, but my blood pressure, sleep apnea, my joints and acid reflux are all being ameliorated with my diet and exercise.

At my heaviest, my BMI was almost 65; today, the first day my BMI has been under 40 in well over a decade, I can see great progress made along the path to my goal.  I’m so excited!

Slow and Steady: The Loveland Half Marathon

It was night-dark as I made my way down the hill to Loveland, and dark still as Laurie and I waited in line to use the portapotties.  Only right before the start of the Loveland Half Marathon did the sun peek past the horizon and shed light on the beginning of a beautiful day.

We watched from the side as the runners assembled behind the timing-mat starting line, listening to race instructions as my race partner and I readied our gear waiting for the imminent opening signal.  I zipped my new running jacket to my chin to fight the morning’s cool chill, adjusted the straps of my water backpack, made sure my cell phone and headphones were at hand in my pocket.  I gave Laurie my GPS watch to wear, and she handed back my sports jelly beans I’d given her to safeguard from an incorrigible overeater.  As the call to GO! was given and the runners started their race, we were as ready as we were going to be.  Swinging behind the assembled body, we walked across the starting line and began my first half marathon.

The early part of the course quickly routed us out of downtown Loveland, through side streets and over a series of rolling hills.  Suburban throughways shortly became winding rural roads, and we found ourselves leaf peeping the beautiful autumn landscapes, framed against the Little Miami River, on our brisk walk.  We developed a rhythm that became tranquil, and it was only an incongruent clatter that made me look back and see that the timing chip I’d zip-tied to my left shoe—or tried to—had fallen off.  A quick reaction and a back track of a few feet saved me $10!

A frantic fussing with the water valve and then some prodding and squeezing of the bladder told me that my water backpack wasn’t going to work.  It was too complicated to figure out en route, too expensive to ditch on the side of the road, so I resolved to just heft the 4lbs that wouldn’t get lighter with each sip or ever-furthering distance.  Four pounds on my frame isn’t near the burden as it would be on yours! I tried to assure Laurie and reassure myself.

The prospect of imbibing water returned mixed messages from my body:  my dry mouth wanted as much as possible with my throat seconding; my over-inundated bladder cried out, no water, no more!  My brain played arbiter—as much water as possible, a bathroom as soon as you can!  I was double fisting cups coming out of every water station, then turning back to ask the high school running team volunteers where the nearest bathroom was.  Nobody knew!

By this time Laurie had to go too, and introduced the idea of weeing in the woods.  Then we recognized from our bike rides on the Little Miami Trail that the course was getting closer to the river and we were going to be coming to a trailside park—bathrooms ahead!  We steeled our bladder-holding determinations and quickened our gait before having a blissfully-brief respite of relief in the restroom shelter.  It was a whole new race once we commenced, one where taking water and making water taxed us not at all.

As we continued, we found ourselves mid-way through the fifth mile, beginning a loop on the Trail that would send us two miles down and then over six miles back, straight through to Loveland.  As we made our way, we saw the runners—some looking miserable, some looking like they were having a world of fun—on their return.  Laurie started me on some sports jelly beans, eager to anticipate the drop in energy rather than having to compensate for it.

Volunteer groups of young, cute cheerleaders called out encouragements, telling us “You’re beautiful!”  which I, though I didn’t feel it, derived some energy from as my legs were starting to get tired.  I would switch to a jog-at-walking-speed to hit less tired muscles, always conscience of telling Laurie beforehand, so she wouldn’t increase speeds and leave me in the fallen autumn leaves! 

After making the turn, I appreciated that the Little Miami Bike Trail was so flat, that it was placed at the end of the course.  There wasn’t as many people heading down the loop when we were coming back, but it seemed like Laurie and I were catching and passing a lot of people, while not really being passed.  Under tree cover, my GPS seemed to be losing distance, the first time that’d happened.  And at what a time!

But as I started to get tired, and my watch was underestimating our distance covered by a couple of miles and the mile markers seemed to lie further and further apart, it was wonderful to have Laurie there to keep me focused on the race.  Making conversation, asking me how I was feeling, instructing me to keep my form, feeding me and giving me one of her two running bottle when I was thirsty, Laurie—who didn’t break a sweat, who felt fine today—helped me finish the race.

At the point when a lady volunteer declared that we had just one mile to go, I felt my legs tightening up.  I went into my jog for about a quarter of a mile, got tired and slowed back into a walk.  I felt the walking gait in my hips and it hurt more than my tired jog, so I returned to the jog.  Not too fast, Laurie shouted, I don’t want you to fizzle at the finish!  She told me to hold back until we crossed a familiar bridge close to the finish line.  Reined in, my adrenaline was going as I strode off the bridge, and we took off.  I remember how strong I felt, how determined I was, pumping not only my arms but turning my shoulders, and how high my knees were. 

In my longest race to-date, it was my best finish line crossing!  Laurie and I told people we wanted to best 3:30, but after training well we had a secret goal between just us of 3:20.  Turns out Laurie had a secret, secret goal she kept from me of 3:15.  Our official time—with a bathroom break—was 3:01:16!  I was so elated I didn’t even notice that my nipples were bleeding in our post-race photos (Oh hell, oh well!  Chaffed nipples is not the worst thing race mishap that can occur ***Don’t Google Image Search “Runner’s diarrhea”*** :-P)

I would never have believed that I could complete a half marathon.  When my last and longest race was a 5K, I can’t believe that in such a short period of time I was able to complete a 5K plus 10 miles!  I’m so happy, so wanting to keep the momentum going that I’m soliciting ideas of what to do next!

Loveland Half Marathon Packet

The Loveland Half Marathon is what the event organizer, Tucson Racing, calls “no frills racing,” by which they mean that there isn’t the expo, swag, or after race snacks other races feature.  By cutting the fat, they offer an entry fee of almost $50 less than other half marathons, without forgoing volunteer support, aid and refreshment stations, bathrooms, t-shirts, and finisher medals that makes a race safe, enjoyable, and memorable.

While the race packet is simple, it certainly isn’t skimpy in quality.  It includes a racing chip that will be zip-tied to my left shoe, a racing bib that for a reason I’d be interested to know features Tucson Racing’s sister race, the Undead 5K (Leeway is given in no frills racing!), and a high quality technical t-shirt.  Marking our entry into the chilly autumn season, it is the first long sleeve race shirt I’ve gotten. 

As I prepare for my first half marathon tomorrow, I can appreciate the lack of distractions that come with no frills.  The thrills come in the morning, as Laurie and I walk our way to my very first, but certainly not last, half marathon finish!  Here we come!