As Emily, Rusty, Leslie, Karrie, and I (AKA Team "Running Is a Mental Sport, and We're all Insane") drove up to Vail Lake to tackle the Tough Mudder, I was sharing with them that one of the high school volleyball dads had been on Wipeout and had survived to win the $50,000 final prize.  He had actually broken several ribs in the process, and I was scoffing at how anyone could possibly do something so crazy knowing how dangerous it was.  A couple hours later I began to realize that I, too, had signed up for something that was way more challenging than I had ever anticipated.  I was prepared for the physical challenges--that's why I joined Crossfit--but I had not understood how mentally and emotionally challenging this race was going to be.  In addition to the physical challenges, many of the obstacles forced us to overcome individual fears that added to the difficulty.
          In order for you to truly understand what I mean, I am going to share with you a few of the obstacles we faced throughout the 11-12 mile course.  Even before we started the race, we all had to work together to get ourselves over a 12 foot wooden walls to reach the start line.  What you need to know about this race is that it is not about time.  It is about working together as a team to finish the course and all its obstacles.  In the past I have shared how difficult the k-rails and walls have been for me in prior races--weak upper arm strength is to blame.  This time, while I needed help to get over, thanks to my Crossfit workouts I could actually pull myself up enough so I wasn't a complete burden on my teammates.  We would meet these same wooden walls two other times along the course, only each new time we encountered them, there were two. I actually hit the side of my shin so hard on the last wall as I threw my legs over that I got a huge bruise and had trouble running for the next mile or so--no pain, no gain.
          After the gun went off, our first challenge was to run straight up a mountain.  Luckily, Emily had taken us on a similar course just a week before, so this was not as hard as it could have been without the training.  There were a lot of walkers clogging this part of the course, but we just ran every time there was an opening.
          Once we reached the top, we climbed over two more wooden walls before hitting Leslie's fear--dark, confined spaces.  We had to crawl through long, narrow, water- and mud-filled tunnels that were laid under hay covered planks on our hands, knees, and bellies.  They were dark, deep, and disorienting, making you feel as though you were lost underground.  Physically, we were all prepared for this, but poor Leslie had to overcome her fear to crawl out the other end.  Leslie was not about to let this stop her, so she sucked it up and went for it--we were a team and she wasn't willing to sacrifice the team even for a genuine fear.
          The next obstacle did not seem that challenging--after all we were "just" crawling through the mud under sharp barbed wire.  What we could not see was that all along the planks that the barbed wire was strewn across were hanging electric wires.  We had been told that the shocks didn't hurt, but we came to realize that was a big lie. Both Leslie and I brushed against a wire that hurt like heck.  Mine was so strong my muscles actually started to twitch uncontrollably.  By the end of this one we were both so "shocked" that a few not-so-nice words might have slipped through our lips.
          Our next obstacle was innocent looking enough.  We had to climb up a ladder and jump into some toxic- looking green water.  It wasn't until we got into the water that we realized that it was completely filled with ice cubes (I later learned that they had just refilled the ice before we reached this obstacle).  After the shock of the extreme cold, we then found out we had to actually dive under the water and below the center wall to get to the exit on the other side. This was Karrie's killer obstacle: not only can she not stand being in icy water, but she was especially disturbed at the thought of having to submerge herself in the icy depths to get under the wall.  Once I jumped in, I looked to the left and there was Karrie trying to claw her way up the side like a cat--it was one of the funniest memories of the race for me and Leslie.  If you look at the picture below, you can see the look on Leslie and Karrie's faces after they surface from under the the wall--it says it all.  I cannot adequately describe how truly cold we all were as we were finally able to drag ourselves over the wall at the other end.  My limbs were so frozen that I could not bend them to get out of the ice water.  My teammates had to pull me up until I was high enough to just roll out.  And for at least ten minutes after this obstacle our body parts were tingling from the cold.  It couldn't get worse, right?
          But just when I thought things couldn't get more difficult, I got to face the one thing that scares me more than anything else--heights.  When my oldest was a baby, we decided to take a trip to Arizona, which included a stop at the Grand Canyon.  I am ashamed to admit that once we got there, I was so scared of us all falling to our deaths, that we did not stay longer than 20 minutes before I asked Sean to drive us back to our campsite in Sedona. 
          Flash forward to this Tough Mudder obstacle where we had to climb up a 20 foot tall platform and jump into the water below--and it might as well have been the Grand Canyon in my mind.  I got dizzy, I felt sick, and I actually thought I would not be able to do this one.  My teammates cheered me on, but still I paced back and forth on the platform trying to convince myself that I wouldn't die from this fall. However, I kept remembering that I had actually signed a death waiver for this race, so death was not out of the question.  Finally, Emily yelled up at me that she wasn't getting out of the water until I jumped in.  So I closed my eyes and went for it.  I don't remember anything until I hit that water, but my teammates were sharing on the drive back to civilization that I actually kind of curled up in a fetal position on the way down (not pretty, but at least I didn't crawl back down the ladder).  As I hit the water, I went down deep enough that I felt like I was never going to come back up.  When I was finally able to surface again, I gasped for air, swam to the side, where I promptly burst into tears.  I must be honest--I was the only one to shed tears during this race.
          At this point we weren't even at mile three, and so far the obstacles had gotten progressively harder--I was starting to think they really were going to kill me off after all.  Luckily, the next few miles were mostly running up and down mountains, which we had trained for.  What I didn't expect was that the hills would actually be steeper and more plentiful than the ones I faced in Sedona.  They threw in rock running, mud running, running through fallen branches, running through rivers--just about anything you can imagine we encountered it on our run.
          There were also some really fun obstacles that we experienced.  We had to climb over and under stacked, fallen logs, but actually carrying a log up and down a hill at another obstacle was a satisfying experience because Crossfit had specifically trained me for this one.  On the Wednesday before the race, my Coach, Al, had us running 125m sprints carrying a weighted ball on our shoulders.  It is amazing how easy an obstacle can be when you have the confidence that comes from something being familiar.  I had never carried logs, but I knew I could do it because of the ball running I had experienced.
          We also all loved the slippery slide they created for us to slide down the hill to Vail Lake.  We decided that we would once again do this obstacle as a team, so we all held hands as we plummeted down the hill to the bottom.  I would not say we loved the next obstacle, but none of us had trouble swimming to and diving under floating barrels in the lake.  At this point we were now less than a half-mile from the finish line--and headed toward the final two, very challenging obstacles.
           At this point, we came to a what looked like one side of a giant skateboard half-pike.  It was covered in a melamine (white board) material, so with our water and mud covered bodies, it was very slippery.  The object was for the first person to run up as far as possible, grab the lip, and pull themselves up.  The other team members would then do the same, but the first person would help them by pulling up from the top.  The great thing about this race was that even the runners that weren't on your team helped one another conquer this challenge.  I am proud to say that we all made it up on the first try with the help of our teammates and fellow racers.
          We could finally see the finish line about 100 feet in front of us when we reached the obstacle called Electroshock Therapy.  There are hay bales dividing little mud pools, which the competitor must get through to reach the finish.  The only real obstacles in our way were hundreds of live wires hanging down so far there was no way to crawl under them.  I decided the way to tackle this one was just to plow through and not worry about the wires.  So I took off running, made it over the first hay obstacle when I got shocked so hard that both my calf muscles cramped up, throwing me to the ground.  I don't even remember exactly what happened, but Emily came back to pick me up and stretch my calves so we could run the last 100 yards with our teammates across the finish.  As I look back at the Tough Mudder website, I see that the Electroshock obstacle touts some 10,000 volt shocks.  I must have encountered one or more of these wires, which is why my body reacted the way it did.
          What I find most amazing about this experience is that none of us could have done this easily without the help of our teammates.  Leslie conquered dark tunnels, Karrie lived through the fear of icy water, and I jumped off a twenty foot platform because my teammates would not let me fail.  Even Rusty and Emily had points in the race where they needed support.  Rusty got a terrible thigh cramp at about mile 7, and Emily got some cramps in her stomach muscles that doubled her over for a bit.  Each one of us faced adversity, but we didn't quit.  We knew that we started this race as a team, and we were going to cross that finish line together--and we did.
          This morning I woke up and muscles I didn't even know I had are aching.  I have bruises on my legs and between my thighs from throwing my legs over the wooden walls, and after eight hours of sleep, I could still use a few more to feel fully rested.  But pain is temporary, and no one can ever take away the fact that we conquered this ridiculously difficult course.  We ARE Tough Mudders!        

          Part of the issue of having had eating disorders is that so many things become secretive.  I became a closet eater, I never told anyone I needed help, and my body image was so terrible that even when I weighed 115 pounds I thought I was fat and would nit pick little flaws in my body that no one else would ever notice.  Fast forward to today, and I am really working hard to make sure that I am hiding very little--hence the blog.
      So, this week I decided that it was time to reveal a few more secrets in order for me to show you, and myself, that we don't have to be perfect all the time.  I had a few experiences this week that I just had to share because I feel they perfectly illustrate some fallacies, some things I am still trying to hide, or some areas that are still a work in progress for me.  I am hoping if you too are experiencing the same thing, that you will understand that it is okay because someone else is still having the same struggles as you are.
          Secret #1: I CANNOT do it all--I often have people ask me, how do you do it all?  They see that I put in many hours at the school district where I work--it is not true that teachers only work 8-3, as my children can attest.  They also see that I have three kids in all stages of life, 21, 15, and 4, and I actually spend time with them on a regular basis.  And then they see that I am able to fit in exercise most days of the week by getting up before the sun rises (Running, Crossfit, Double Unders, etc.).  In addition, I have been fitting in a race or two every month to keep myself motivated.
          On the outside it appears that I really can do it all, but my friend Jenny found out the dirty truth the other day (and I must say it was a real relief for the secret to finally be out).  I offered to drive us to lunch one afternoon, and she got to see that I still have not had time to clean out my car from our road trip to Sedona, which was almost two weeks ago.  If you come to my house, you will see that I have not picked up Eoin's toys that he left on the living room floor last night.  Do not even attempt the white glove test at my house right now--I am not even sure I would pass a gray glove test at this point.
          The truth is I have made priorities for how I spend my time, and my family/friends, my health, and my work are more important to me than having a spit spot house or having a car that I can drive people in without being embarrassed.  So the reality is, maybe I can't do it all, but I am doing all the things that I feel are essential to me.
          Secret #2: I am having trouble finding a way not to focus so much on weight--I have often shared with you that I am really starting to realize that the scale is not the best indicator of successful weight loss efforts.  Measuring how many inches you have lost, focusing on a new smaller size of clothes you are wearing, being able to run farther or faster than before, these are all better indicators of progress toward your fitness goals than a scale.
          Now while I am well aware of this, I still ultimately get frustrated when the scale stays the same week after week.  Just last week my friend Tammy asked me the the same question I have been asking myself lately.  Why do I focus on the scale when I know that it is not accurately showing my progress? 
          I think it may be because for my entire adult life I have either been in the throws of my eating disorder or heavy, so I don't really know what the perfect size for me is.  What should a 5'6" woman weigh?  What size clothes should I wear?  Even with inches, how will I know when I am finally at the point where I can just work on maintaining my body size.  Here is the difficulty...it is different for everybody.  But when I research what I should ideally weigh, I get pretty much the same answer--"According to your height of 5' 6" your ideal healthy weight is 139 pounds. Your recommended weight range is between 123 and 154 pounds."  That is why I feel 145 is not unreasonable.  I am not even shooting for the low end of the range that is recommended for women that are my height.
          So I know you are probably thinking I should just stop weighing myself and all will be good.  The problem is that I did just that about fifteen years ago.  When I was finally able to gain control of my eating disorder, I decided not to have a scale in my house.  What happened was that I was unable to gauge my weight increases, and I ended up at my all time high of 231--can you see why I get so confused sometimes?
          I have decided I will shoot for 145ish, but I am hoping that when I get to the right size, I will just know I am there.  I do know that I am closer than I have ever been to that target.  It finally feels within reach after all these years and I am so proud that all my hard work is finally paying off.

          Secret #3: I still have parts of my body that I try to hide at all costs--I am really happy with the progress that I have made, don't get me wrong, but there are parts of my body that I will probably always have an issue with.  I am actually pretty happy with my progress above my belly button and below my knees, but the parts in between frustrate me.  I am happy to say that Crossfit has made a huge difference in all those parts in between, but I am still very self-conscious, especially when it comes to the stretch marks and scars from my pregnancies and c-sections.  This part will never, and I mean never, be perfect.  That is why I called my blog the Flabby to Flabulous Files.  There are parts of me that will always be a little flabby, and I need to be okay with that.
          When I work out at Crossfit, occasionally my shirt will ride up a little when I do back extension, sit ups, or burpees.  I always quickly pull my shirt down before anyone can see my stretchmarks.  Last Wednesday I was working out with a close friend at Crossfit.  I guess my shirt must have pulled up a little because after my back extensions my friend walked over and pulled my shirt up a little and commented on how she couldn't believe that I was actually starting to get the beginning lines of a six-pack.  Of course, my initial reaction was not thanks--I was horrified that she had seen my stretchmarks. 
          My reaction to her bothered me so much that I resolved that this week I would take a picture of my belly and share it in the blog.  That way it would not be a secret anymore that I have stretchmarks on my lower stomach.  In addition, I wanted to share that Crossfit is really helping me to sculpt and change my body shape for the better.  I still have more work to do, but I have made a lot of progress, and that is something to be proud of.
          I must say I feel very relieved to share these secrets with you.  I can't do it all, I still focus too much on the scale, and despite all my hard work, my stretchmarks on my lower belly can really make me cringe sometimes.  That being said, now that the cat is out of the bag, these things will not have as strong a hold on me as before.  Know that if you come to my house during the week, it will be a bit on the messy side.  I will occasionally focus on the scale even though I know better.  And when I feel embarrassed by my belly, I just need to remember that I have those scars and marks as a result of the three beautiful children I have been given.
          I will continue to make healthy food choices and exercise on a regular basis, but I will try to focus more on all I accomplish on a daily basis, and not on what I have not been able to do.  I will continue to work on being kind to myself, because I have come a long way in the last few years.  I am miles away from flabby and closer to flabulous than ever before.

          Over the last year, while I have been making great strides with my exercise routine, the scale has been stubbornly stuck at about 170 pounds.  I am running three days a week, Crossfitting three days a week, and taking any opportunity I can to get out there and move.  My eating is more or less on the right track as well, although snacking continues to be an area I need to focus on a little more.
          Finally, I have had a break though, and I am hitting the lower end of the 160 pound range.  Now here is the thing I am learning.  Before the scale showed a loss, I knew I was making progress because not only have people been commenting that I look like I have gotten thinner, my clothes have also been fitting better everyday.  About 9 months ago, when size 12 clothes started to get loose on me, I purchased a few size 10 pairs of pants.  I am now wearing most of those pants on a daily basis, but one, a new pair of jeans, just would not go over my belly no matter how hard I tried.  I pushed and pulled, but that zipper would not close, and since, as a teacher, I am not allowed to be an exhibitionist, I placed those jeans on a shelf until I could safely wear them out in public.
          Yesterday was the magical day that not only could I pull them up over my belly and zip them closed, but I actually wore them all day shopping at the Rose Bowl Swap Meet.  Four hours of walking up and down the rows of antique vendors and they felt great.  I am not exactly sure why,  but this is a huge milestone in my book. 
          I know I am dating myself, but in middle school I had a prized possession--a pair of Jordache Jeans. Back then, the tighter the better.  I actually used to have to lay down on my bed just to get them on.  The secret was using the curved part of a wire hanger to pull up the zipper.  I don't remember them being at all comfortable, and I recall breathing deeply being an issue, but I do know that I felt like a million bucks wearing them.  That may be why, to this day, being able to wear my new pair of jeans is, to me, a huge accomplishment. 
        Another reason wearing these jeans is huge for me is that when I weighed over 200 pounds, even though they technically make jeans in sizes bigger than 18, they just don't have that same look or feel as those Jordache Jeans.  I couldn't wear shirts big enough to cover my ever increasing body, and no pair of jeans were going to make me feel better while I was at this weight.  I actually stopped wearing jeans for years, and this new pair of jeans is the first clothes item in a long time that made me feel like I did in middle school wearing those designer jeans.
          Now, I still have a ways to go, but it feels good to finally see the scale move in the right direction.  I have been working hard, and it feels great to see that hard work pay off. I am happily wearing my size 10 jeans, and I am never going back.  They have a saying in Weight Watchers that has always resonated with me: "Nothing tastes as good as thin feels."  Right now I am definitely feeling that nothing tastes as good as wearing these jeans makes me feel.

          Since childhood, the number 10 has been my lucky number.  Beyond the fact that my birthday is on the tenth of the month, I am not sure why I initially chose this number as the one to bring me good fortune.  I do know that throughout my childhood and adolescence, it was the number that I always wanted on my sports jerseys. I am also not sure why I would continue to think 10 is lucky for me since I was always the kid who sat on the bench, the kid that played right field because I could do the least damage there, and the kid who was still on the JV basketball team my senior year in high school.  I can actually remember the parents at one softball game protesting that the coach was going to put me in--they were sure I would somehow single-handedly lose the game for the entire team.  All I can say for myself is that I never give up, and that, I am told, is a good quality to have.
         Friday, as we drove closer to the location of my 10th half-marathon, I was feeling pretty lucky to have the opportunity to race in an amazing place like Sedona, Arizona.  Sean and I hadn't been here for nearly 18 years, when our oldest was just three years-old, but my memories of our vacation here are still fresh in my mind--beautiful landscapes, lots of outdoor places to play, and amazing food everywhere.  And while I was primarily here to run, the only reason I chose to travel to a different state for a race was to take advantage of all the amazing experiences we could share in Sedona as a family.
         Now if I told you that I wasn't concerned about this race, I would be lying.  I knew that this would be one of my most challenging races of the year.  First, I find running hills to be very challenging (both my hamstrings and quads protest vehemently after my hill training runs) and this race was all hills.  I have also had difficulty with altitude sickness in the past, and with the course going between 4,300 and 4,600 ft., I was sure breathing would be difficult for me.  In addition, because we have to work to pay for my racing habit, we could not get to Sedona early to acclimate to the altitude.
         So it was with a little nervousness that I lined up at the starting line at 8 AM, with #1048 pinned to my chest, surrounded by some of the most beautiful rock formations in the nation.  The gun went off, and I headed up my first hill of the day.  Throughout the race I was either going up or down hills of various degrees of elevation.  When I hit mile 3, I was both relieved and a little worried to encounter a mile-long, steep downhill.  Because this was an out-and-back (go half the mileage and then turn around and do the rest back the way you came), I knew that this meant that mile 10-11 would be my most difficult because I would be going back up this huge hill.  Luckily, I had psyched myself up by telling myself that I was not shooting for a personal record on this course--I just wanted to conquer the hilly course with a respectable time.
         I continued pushing up and down the hills, enjoying the amazing red rock formations surrounding me.  At about the halfway point we ran into a canyon of sorts where the rocks towered on both the right and left of us.  The landscape was breathtaking and made each step I took worth every muscle ache I knew I would be feeling later that night. As I approached mile 10 and the dreaded hill, I focused on my music, looked several feet ahead of me instead of at the top of the hill, and I walked and ran my way to the top.  I had made it past the worst of the hills, but at mile, 12 I got a stitch in my side that made running and breathing difficult.  Being that close to the finish line, I was not about to give up, so I pushed through and ran as fast as I could across the finish line.
         I finished in 2:25:03, not my best race time, but running my most challenging course of the year and only adding 3-4 minutes to my average time is nonetheless a triumph for me.  I conquered the hills, I conquered the altitude, and I was still able to go out and play in Sedona the rest of the weekend.
         On Saturday after the race, Sean and I took Eoin hiking to an area in Sedona called West Fork.  Being at 6,000 ft. elevation, the air was crisp and cold, and the ground still had snow and ice for Eoin to play with. He loved exploring the ruins of an old cabin and hen house, gazing up at the icicles hanging off the canyon walls, and throwing rocks into the partially iced over creek.
         Sunday had us once again out and about trying to fit in as much playtime as we could in one day.  We began the day by climbing to the top of a peak to look down on the Sedona Valley below.  We then did a very touristy thing by taking a jeep tour of the area--Eoin loved riding in the back and bouncing around the offroad landscape.  The best part of the jeep ride was that we actually took the same road I ran on for the half-marathon at one point, which allowed me to see how truly challenging the course had been.  There really was very little of the 13.1 miles that was flat.  We ended the day by hiking through Slide Rock Canyon.  In the summer you can actually jump off the ledges into the water below, and slide down flat rock formations into glistening pools of water.  It was a little cold for that on this day, so we hiked up both sides of the creek, and ended our jaunt by taking the scenic clifftop route to look down on the canyon below.
         Now, I must confess, my eating was not as good as it has been in the past (as the hot fudge stain on my Temecula Half shirt can attest), but I got out there and moved all weekend.  I ran, I hiked, and I made sure that we were getting the most out of our short trip to Sedona.  I found that the number 10 was once again a lucky number for me. I finished half-marathon #10 with a huge sense of accomplishment.  I managed to run hills in high elevation, and I actually enjoyed every minute of it.  This trip has me thinking that Sedona is a perfect 10 in my book--great race, great food, great hikes, and great memories for Eoin of a trip where we filled his time with some of the best that the west has to offer.