Chasing Ghosts

I don't remember when the teasing started. It became such a part of my childhood that it was part of the routine.

The main reason for teasing is because you're perceived to be different than everyone else. Unfortunately in my case, it was perpetuated by the adults. My second grade teacher in Central Oregon pointed out to everyone my Boston r-less accent. My third grade gym teacher was relentless on pointing out I wasn't as physically adept as my classmates. Of course the other kids picked up on this, and reinforced what the teachers knew: I was different, and did not fit in. When my parents would intervene and try to get the administration to take a stand, they were hesitant to do so, citing it was part of the process of growing up, "kids will be kids," and even suggesting it was I needed to do more to fit in.

The teasing and bullying intensified through the years. Name-calling led to nasty notes, which led to spitball throwing, which led to gum in my hair, which led to hair-pulling, kicking, and other violence.

Whenever I fought back, it seemed I was punished for my actions. In-house suspensions, detentions, and at one point told I needed psychiatric evaluation. The bullies kept bullying, and any time they were pulled into a principal or guidance counselor's office to be reprimanded, their parents were right there, explaining it was part of growing up, "kids will be kids." Right before I was pulled out of public schools, I had a girl threatening to kill me, slit my throat with a knife if I showed up at the bus stop - the one on school grounds, not the one near the house. The teacher's response who I went to about the threats? "I'm here to teach, not to babysit."

Moving to the MetroWest of Massachusetts my freshman year, I got pegged a "narc," and again had death threats against me in the lunchroom. My salvation came in the form of upper class girls who invited me to their lunch table and watched over me.

From there? It Got Better. I got involved in Band, Drama, and other clubs. I still got teased, but not as savagely as my earlier years. Then I went on to college, and It Got Even Better from there. I slowly got more confidence in myself as a person and my personality.

Today? I'm still figuring it out. I find myself wondering during my runs when(not if) a car window will roll down and make fun of the fat girl running. I've had images of getting laughed at on Race Day, or if pics of me running will end up on someone's Facebook post to get mocked. I still have issues sitting by myself in crowded places, worried that the fat girl with glasses sticks out like a sore thumb.

But these moments are not as frequent or common as they used to be. I have way more "I'm pretty freaking fabulous" moments than the other negative ones. I need to, for my daughter's sake.

I am so thankful for the next generation of teachers that don't handle bullying the way it used to be handled. I am thankful that I live in an area and within a community that is so diverse, that my daughter hopefully won't experience the intolerance and teasing I and so many others before me did.

However...kids will be kids. They will always notice things that are different. And here's where all of us grownups need to step in. TEACH your kids that yes, some kids and people are different, and that's okay, and that it's NOT okay to make them feel like there's something wrong with them because they're different.

Teachers, Educators, People involved with kids? WATCH. LISTEN. Many times I couldn't go to a teacher because I was told I was being watched, and I was threatened within an inch of my life if I went to an authority. Look for the kid sitting by themselves at lunch or at recess. The quiet kid. Check in with them, make sure they're okay. So many times I've heard that no one knew until it was too late that something was wrong with a bullied child because they were the good, quiet kid. They may be holding it all in for fear of their life.

If your kid is the different one? LOVE THEM. Tell them how fabulous they are, EVERY. DAY. Even if they are driving you crazy, tell them they're wonderful. They need to hear it. I don't know where I would be if I didn't have the amazing support of my parents through all of it.

If you're a kid reading this, and are going through some of the stuff I did? It gets better. REALLY. I went from the kid that had no friends, was terrified of going to school, to ...a grownup with friends, a family, a kid of her own. I'm not going to lie and say that after high school it's all unicorns and rainbows, but the world waiting for you on the other side is SO MUCH BETTER. I promise.

Woo-hoo!

See that?

Three.

THREE MILES.

Wait, make that OVER THREE MILES!!!

No, no , no...make that OVER THREE MILES IN LESS THAN AN HOUR!!!

It was challenging run. It was dark, so seeing the path was difficult. I felt myself slowing down at parts. As I hit the turnaround, I felt a second wind. And I kept running.

Whenever that inner critic would suggest walking partway, I tuned into the music and kept running.

The next thing I knew, I was at the finish line. I did it! Three miles!

Even Chubby Runners Get the Blues

It's easy to stop blogging when you don't want to talk about the not-so-rock-star training days.

First, the Black Plague came to our household. The little one got it first, followed by myself and then my husband. Sleepless nights and gastrointestinal apocalypses led to some lack of disipline in the training department:

Not bad, but only two running sessions and no trips to the gym. Then, I was able to hit another milestone for distance this past Tuesday:



Then, the weather, more sickness...led to another gym session and running session skipped. I was determined to get out there yesterday morning for another 2.75 mile run. As I geared up, I heard the wind HOWLING against the windows. Husband came back from his run, said the wind wasn't that bad for him. I head out.



To quote Pooh and say it was a "blustery" day, puts it mildly. The wind whipped at and around me. The storm from the night before scattered acorns, twigs, and BRANCHES across my running path. It was hard to keep a pace and look out for obstacles at the same time.

Finally, somewhere a 1/2 mile into it, my inner critic convinced the rest of my body - including my heart - to just give in. So I walked the route. I kept trying to push myself and start running, and the wind would pick my hat up off my head, or my shins started to bark. Until I stopped trying, and walked home, defeated.

However, as I walked home, I did try and reason with myself and not beat myself up. It was a looooong walk home. It made me realize and appreciate what I do run in the mornings. It didn't feel this long when I'm jogging it!

When I got home, I didn't even want to talk about it with my husband. Until he cajoled it out of me, where I cried and told him I was definitely NOT a rock star today.

"Honey, some days you're Freddie Mercury. And some days, well, you just have to settle for being Courtney Love."

And he's right. I have to remember that if every run was fantastic, wonderful, "Chariots of Fire" level amazingness? It would get boring. And I would get bored, and I'd stop.

Now? Now I want to get back out there. I've got three miles to tackle on Tuesday, and it's going to be a "We Will Rock You" run, not a "Bruise Violet" run.

Milestones

This is the farthest I've run. Ever.

In the application I use to keep track of my running (Runkeeper), it shows I've run 71 miles. That doesn't seem like a lot, does it?

And yet. This is the most I've ever run. Runkeeper also told me that this week I ran the furthest distance (2.31 miles), which also added up to the most I've run in a week (6 miles).

As I mentioned last week, I'm all about the rewards. I need to start thinking about what to do when I hit 100 miles.

Motivation

There's a difference between what motivates you to get your ass off the couch, and what keeps you motivated to get your ass off the couch again tomorrow, and the next day, and the next.

My original motivation to exercise was spite. I went to a new doctor, and within the first 10 minutes of meeting me told me I needed Weight Loss Surgery; no ifs, ands, or buts. I was told diet and exercise wouldn't work for me, I was beyond that help. After bawling my eyes out, I got over the pity party and got angry. I lost 50 pounds that year.

I got back on the exercise and portion control track six months after having my daughter. I wanted to get back down to where I was before I had her, and then some. I got back to running, because I hadn't finished Couch-to-5K last time.

Now, as I am training for my first 5K, I have different motivation I rotate through as I run:
-proving that doctor wrong
-getting rid of the ghosts of PE teachers past
-looking at pictures of myself and not cringing
-thinking about all that shopping for new clothes
-competing with my husband
-seeing my daughter at the finish line

A lot of it is superficial and selfish; I'm okay with that. Motiviation doesn't always have to be inspiring, heart-wrenching. I am all about the rewards.

Couch to 4800k

I'm spending this week in Oregon, celebrating my Mom's 60th birthday. My route was flatter than my usual run, and so much more scenic. There were spots I didn't have the luxury of sidewalks, so I ran on the road.

Here, they don't have a shoulder on the road; they have irrigation ditches. I was pretty cautious in certain areas. The sidewalks I did run on have spoiled me when I have to return to VFW Parkway. They were flat, and smooth. No tree roots pushing them up. No acorn husks left by hungry squirrels (because they were all in my parents' backyard eating the peanuts my mother was feeding them).

At one part of my run, a plane was coming in and landing alongside me (the runway is that long dark gray part on the right of the picture). I am going to admit here: I totally felt like Tom Cruise in Top Gun. Without the motorcycle...or leather jacket...or sunglasses. But I digress.

This was supposed to be a 2.25 mile run, and I had plotted it out ahead of time. So much for technology (thanks MapMyRun!) I managed to keep a 3.5mph pace, no walking. I'll revisit doing 2.25 on Saturday, my last day before I head back home.

2 miles - Shaving Seconds

I wasn't sure how this run would go. I had run 1.5 miles on Thursday, so I was worried going back to 2.0 miles would be a bit of a stretch. I talked to A on Friday, and she suggested to go slow on the mile out, so I'd be able to make it on the mile back.

I headed out, and made sure not to "push." I kept my playlist on good, even, pace-making songs; "Born to Run," "Livin' on a Prayer," "Princes of the Universe." I'm getting to the point where I can actually feel that I have a pace, rather than "ohgoddon'tletmedieouthere, ohgoddon'tletmedieouthere..."

This run I shaved 20 seconds off my pace. The mile out that I was doing a pace? Was faster than I've done, even on Thursday's shorter run. The training plan so far seems to be working. I'm feeling confident that I'll be finishing the 5K under an hour.