Day 2: A Journey of 100 Miles Starts with 11 on Sunday

From this morning's run, by my one of my favorite fellow runners, Xiara Bowles.

From this morning’s run, by my one of my favorite fellow runners, Xiara Bowles.

Two weeks to the day before my first half-marathon, I’m still working on accepting my identity as a runner. I logged 64.6 miles in the month of October, 37.1 in September, 34.7 in August. I run kind of a lot. But it’s still new. I still feel like I need to apologize for it or excuse it somehow by pointing out all of the reasons I’m not really a runner. This strikes me as particularly hilarious because just over a year ago my best friend went through the same athletic identity crisis several months into her serious running focus, and I kept assuring her just how much of a runner I thought she was.

And now, in the homestretch to my race, I’m doing my long runs with a group of people I consider much more fit than I am, and I fight the urge to run and hide from embarrassment. Mostly because I’m so slow they’d catch me and it wouldn’t do any good anyway. (See what I did there? Yeah. That. All the time. It plays in my head all. the. time. about running.)

It’s like I constantly do this thing where I find reasons not to be who I really am or who I want to be so then there are no expectations and obviously no way to fail or disappoint — myself or others. And it’s really, really, really silly. And it causes me to miss out on a lot of opportunities that some part of me believes I don’t deserve, so I make sure I don’t get them.

Yesterday, this awareness really hit home for me when I didn’t place in the Central Florida Body Transformation Challenge. I entered a 10-week challenge, the beginning of which happened to coincide with my being cleared to work out again after abdominal surgery, and the start of my half-marathon training. Going into it, I was so certain, so sure that I would finally hit it hard, finally bust it out, finally blow it out of the water and prove to myself what I could really do.

…And then I kinda phoned it in. I did SOME of everything I said I would do. But I didn’t commit. I didn’t do it 100%. And despite how great my results absolutely were, I didn’t place. I missed placing in the body fat percentage category by .1%. I was legitimately close in the women’s body sculpting category — my numbers were great and my pics were awesome — but I didn’t place.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining here that I got robbed or something. The people who won had fantastic results and there is no doubt that they deserved to win. I’m mad at myself for not pushing harder because I could have deserved to win, too. The only thing standing between me and placing was a tenth of a percent of body fat, a millimeter of muscle, a few more workouts, a few smaller portions, a few more gallons of water and hours of sweat.

"Consumers who use Herbalife® Formula 1 twice per day as part of a healthy lifestyle can generally expect to lose around 0.5 to 1 pound per week. Participants in a 12-week single-blind study used Formula 1 twice per day (once as a meal and once as a snack) with a reduced calorie diet and a goal of 30 minutes of exercise per day. Participants followed either a high protein diet or a standard protein diet. Participants in both groups lost about 8.5 pounds."

“Consumers who use Herbalife® Formula 1 twice per day as part of a healthy lifestyle can generally expect to lose around 0.5 to 1 pound per week. Participants in a 12-week single-blind study used Formula 1 twice per day (once as a meal and once as a snack) with a reduced calorie diet and a goal of 30 minutes of exercise per day. Participants followed either a high protein diet or a standard protein diet. Participants in both groups lost about 8.5 pounds.”

I’m glad I didn’t win. Because even though my results were pretty stellar, they weren’t my best results. Those who do the work get the rewards. I did some of the work, but I didn’t do the whole job. And the disappointment of KNOWING I could have done more, that I didn’t do what I told myself I would, is kind of completely heartbreaking.

And it’s yet another well-timed indication that this #30days of #radicalaccountability is just the right thing to do at just the right time. I’m ready. I’m ready to change. I’m ready to do what I know I can.

When one of my long-run buddies invited me to a Nike+ Challenge last week, I didn’t stop to think before I accepted. If I had, I most likely would have talked myself out of agreeing to run 100 miles in the month of November. But why not? Why not do it? Why not commit? Why not leave it all on the trail or track or path or wherever the heck my feet take me? Because holding back might be getting me somewhere, but it’s not getting me where I could be, where I should be.

So today I logged 11 miles toward this months’ goal. Only 89 more to go.

And although I had some missteps in the day thanks to poor planning on my part (translation: I got HANGRY while running errands and ended up frantically eating toddler snacks and inhaling a hot dog to avoid having a complete, low-blood-sugar-induced meltdown in front of my husband and children), I freakin’ ran 11 miles this morning. I got up when my alarm went off, I did my workout, I came home, and I had an awesome day with my family. I took all of my tablets. I drank plenty of water. I did the monthly budget with my husband. I even put on mascara.

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#day2 of #30days of #radicalaccountability complete.

I wouldn’t say I took Sunday, #day2, by storm exactly. But I lived it. I didn’t simply exist. I lived it and I challenged myself in it and I made something of myself today. Runner. Friend. Patient mother. Frantic eater. Bed maker. Bean counter. I showed up for myself, even though I was tired, even though I had a million excuses at the ready (including reasons why going to bed would be better than writing this blog post tonight.)

So I’m calling #day2 a success. And I’m headed to bed with a goal to get 1% better tomorrow. Primarily in the area of going to bed at a reasonable hour.

Check out today’s Instagram nutrition and lifestyle journal at @FLFitMom for the deets on today’s meals, snacks, and overall activities. Not pictured: The Herbalife Sleep Now, Relax Now, and Restore I just took on my way to climb into my neatly made bed — but not before doing my bedtime skincare routine. The whole thing. Without skipping steps just because it’s late and I’m tired.

Accountability, you dig?

Follow my #30day journey of #radicalaccountability here at Amateur Parenting and through mynutrition and lifestyle journal on Instagram. Want to join me? Add these hashtags — #30days #radicalaccountability #coachkristen #dayX – to your social media posts and let’s do this together.

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Find me on Instagram as @FLFitMom

Day 1: What if 30 Days Could Change Everything?

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#day1 of #30days of #radicalaccountability

I keep hearing the advice “Life’s easy when you live it the hard way and hard if you live it the easy way.” Every time I hear it, I write it down. And today, at the Herbalife Central Florida STS, the speaker was looking right at me when he said this exact phrase.

I may live a relatively easy life — enough to eat, a safe place to live, satisfying employment, a good support system — but let’s be real: I make things a lot harder than they need to be. I am living my life the easy way, making excuses instead of taking ownership and doing what needs to be done.

In the last 3 months, I have made massive improvements in personal accountability. A big one for me is that for the first time in my life I took on a physical challenge and actually stuck with it. I started training for a half-marathon on August 4, and two weeks from tomorrow, on November 16, I will be running this race. I will have trained for 16 weeks, even though it was hard, even though I thought I couldn’t do it. This is huge for me, and it sparked a bunch of other personal triumphs I’ll talk more about in a future post.

And while I definitely celebrate these changes, they’ve made it unmistakably clear to me that I have a long way to go. Which is what made me wonder: What would happen if, for 30 days, I just did everything I’m supposed to do the way I’m supposed to do it when I’m supposed to do it whether I feel like doing it or not? How would things change?

It’s been on my mind and my heart for weeks now, and today pushed me over the edge from contemplation to action. That’s why for National Blog Posting Month 2014, I’m launching #30days of #radicalaccountaility. For the month of November, I’m going to be posting daily about my journey toward an easy life by doing it the hard way: getting up on time, sticking with my nutrition and fitness plans, doing daily personal development, staying on top of the housework, parenting my kids gently, loving my husband thoroughly, and, well, being the best me I can be.

I don’t expect perfect. In fact, I suspect some days are going to be epic failures and will make me want to “take my ball and go home because this is stupid anyway.” But I’m in it. For 30 days. No matter what.

I’ll be documenting my meals, snacks, workouts, the scale, and more as @FLFitMom on Instagram, and blogging here daily through the whole month. Radical accountability means I’m sharing the good, the bad, and the ugly. It’s time to get real. August was my month of #noexcuses. September, though I can’t seem to recall the hashtag I thought was so clever when I thought of it, was my month of #pushingharder. October was my month of #peaceandpatience. And now, November, it’s time to put it all together and be radically accountable for my life. Let’s do this.

When Your Mom Friend is Living Your Worst Nightmare

Heading in for my surgery earlier this summer.

Heading in for my surgery earlier this summer.

I was a worrier before I had kids, so imagine what happened to my worry when I popped out two in one shot. Then double it. Then double it again. I worry about EVERYTHING. One of them has a bruise, I’m convinced it’s leukemia. I get a cough for a few days, it’s lung cancer. Someone complains of a headache, it’s a brain tumor. Basically I’m terrified that everything in my life is an indicator of cancer. I lost sleep for weeks over my hernia surgery in June, not because I was worried about the hernia surgery per se, but because I was worried that when they cut me open to fix the hernias the would find something HORRIBLE inside that had lain undetected since I delivered the boys and would no doubt kill me at the drop of a hat.

Yes, this sounds completely crazy. I get that. It doesn’t interfere with my daily life and I do recognize that it’s irrational. But I also lost my brother unexpectedly when he was 16 in a freak accident. My triathlete uncle who was the healthiest person I have ever known developed back pain one December and was dead the following April after being diagnosed with Stage 4 multiple myeloma out of nowhere. My high school and college boyfriend, a vegetarian who doesn’t drink or smoke or do anything else that supposedly increases your cancer risk, was diagnosed at 30 with testicular cancer that metastasized before they found it; he was unable to breathe and had brain involvement, leading to long-term hospitalization and rehab, but as far as I know is okay now. It seems like healthy people all around me are getting cancer or dying unexpectedly left and right. It’s not unreasonable for me to feel a little worried, right?

fight_like_a_girl_breast_cancer_bannerAnd now Anna has breast cancer. Anna, a fellow twin mom with boys just a little younger than my own, a fellow runner with a big heart and a biting sense of humor that makes me laugh so hard I cry. She’s beautiful and she’s healthy and she’s full of life and even though we haven’t known each other even 2 years we just had that instant friend connection and now she has cancer. She’s basically me with blonde hair, and she has cancer. How is this possible? This thing that terrifies me, this thing that I survive by telling myself will never happen — it’s happening to her. And it sucks. And it scares the shit out of me. Because if it can happen to her, someone just like me, it can happen to anyone. Continue reading

My Breastfeeding Journey with Miles and Emmett – World Breastfeeding Week 2014

Breastfeeding twins is one of the best and hardest things I have ever done.

Nursing my twins is one of the best and hardest things I have ever done.

Emmett and Miles arrived on December 22, 2011, and 36 weeks and 3 days gestation after I was induced due to pre-eclampsia.

Emmett (Baby A) was born vaginally after only 4 hours of labor and 20 minutes of pushing with no pain medication. He was perfect at 6 lbs, 6 oz. His APGAR scores were 9/10 and even though he was early, he didn’t need help with breathing or maintaining his temperature. I couldn’t wait to nurse him, but I had to deliver his brother first.

Miles (Baby B) took advantage of his newfound freedom in the womb by turning all around and stretching out horizontally across my belly. Despite the doctor’s best efforts to turn him externally and internally and to simply hook a foot with his fingers and pull him out, Miles was stubborn and arrived via C-section with me under general anesthesia about 30 minutes after Emmett’s arrival. I met Miles for the first time about 2 hours later, when I woke up and returned to the recovery area.

We started nursing right away, but we also started supplementing right away. :(

We started nursing right away, but we also started supplementing right away. :(

I had no idea what I was doing, but my doula was there to help me latch the boys individually and both were eager to nurse. It hurt like hell, but everyone told me that was normal. It quickly became apparent that although the boys were generally cheerful nursers and I had plenty of colostrum to sustain them, they weren’t removing it effectively from my breasts — and nursing them freaking hurt. So, I immediately started pumping and asked for a supplemental nursing system or feeding cup to help them while we figured out what we were doing.

My “breastfeeding-friendly” hospital told me they didn’t have any SNSs, there was nowhere to get one, they wouldn’t give me tubing to rig up my own, and cup-feeding newborns was “against hospital policy.” Instead, they offered me bottles and formula. To which I responded “Breastfeeding friendly my ass” and promptly burst into tears. Ultimately both boys had high levels of jaundice — Emmett spent hours under the bili lights each of the 4 days we were in the hospital and came to me on a biliboard, looking like a glowworm, for each feeding — and were not peeing enough, so the hospital was going to release me but keep them if I didn’t flush their by overfeeding them and destroying their virgin gut with formula. (This is a paraphrase, of course, but that’s what happened.) Continue reading

Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down

www.amateurparenting.com — There’s this thing that happens when you spend all day every day saying yes to other people. You stop saying yes to yourself. At least, that’s what’s happened to me over the last several months.

I said yes to work. I said yes to friends. I said yes to organizations and groups. I said yes to everyone and gave and gave and gave. And while there’s nothing wrong with that exactly, where I went wrong was that I stopped saying yes to myself. I gave and gave and gave to everyone but me and then my storehouse was empty. I tried to pretend I was fine, that my life wasn’t closing in on me and I wasn’t having trouble breathing or controlling my heart rate every time I thought about having to do it all again tomorrow.

And then something very interesting happened. I asked for help. And nobody answered. And that was when I realized what the real problem was. Well, actually, first I had a complete meltdown. Continue reading