Side effects

Picture on the left? Thanksgiving last year. Picture on the
right? Me at the car dealership a few weeks ago. With
less "size on me..."

So, I am about 4 1/2 months out from surgery (July 11th). The weather is changing here in North Carolina. And I have lost my outer layer of warmth, about 99 pounds of it actually.

I am freezing. All the time. Side effect.

Today, for instance, was a sunny day, high of about 50 degrees. So naturally I wore wool socks and two jackets. I am forever wearing wool socks and two jackets. I also had to steal a space heater from a co-worker. Thanks, AB!

A few weeks ago, I got a new car. It reminded me of the last time I shopped for a new car three years ago. I remember going to the dealership and the Ford salesman asked what I was looking for. I told him an SUV, anything from an Explorer to an Escape.

The poor guy looked at me and said "hmmm...not sure you would want an Escape. You have some size to you."

I say "poor guy" because I bet the look on my face was enough to make him want to crawl into a hole. I "have some size" to me? Are you allowed to say that? The sad thing is...he was right. I just hated that he was right. So I got an Explorer, and walked away feeling the opposite you feel when you get a new car: embarrassed and ashamed.

But that was then. And this is now. I could get any car I want this time. In fact, my rental car was a tiny Toyota Corolla for a few weeks and you know what? I fit in it just fine. I don't have that "size" to me anymore. Side effect.

But today, today was a great side effect I wasn't anticipating. I probably work out in the mornings 5 times a week. It's the same crowd at the Y at that time, and I know most of the faces but we are there to get a job done and leave so there isn't a whole lot of socializing. This morning, a woman I have seen often but never have talked to took her headphones out to talk to me. I found out her name is Kimberly. Here's how the conversation went:

Kimberly: "You look amazing! What are you doing?"
Me: "Well, I had weight loss surgery in July, but I have to stay active and work the plan to stay healthy."
Kimberly "I am doing the low carb thing, it's so hard."
Me: "You are in here every time I'm here so you are doing something right!"
(insert small talk about squats and sugar and the bench press)
Kimberly: "I have to tell you, you are my inspiration to show up in the mornings. Watching your transformation motivates me to keep trying."
(insert me sweating and also crying a little bit too.)

What?! I didn't go into this thinking it would affect other people like it has. Every day is a chance for me to encourage someone else that tells me how happy and healthy I look. And it's not just about weight loss. It's about taking chances. Asking for help. Knowing your worth. Fighting for yourself. Some of the conversations I have gotten to have have been unexpectedly deep and meaningful and I love it.

Like Kimberly. Who just needs that extra push from a familiar face at the Y. Change is possible, you just need someone in your life to remind you. Side effect.

Get out of your own head.

We were all just happy to have made it!

There are a lot of things that naturally thin people don't think about. And I am sure that several of those things are things that happened to me this past week.

For example, I was being interviewed at a meeting for my town commissioner work, and I showed up before the interview was to start. It was in a large auditorium. When I got there, I saw two high-top chairs for the interview. No big deal, right?

You see, high-top chairs are not a friend to those of us that struggle with weight. They are often flimsy, and relatively small, making us wonder if they will hold us for one, and if our backsides will actually fit on the seat. In the past, I have found these chairs so uncomfortable that I would avoid restaurants that had them as the only seating option. So to have that as my "perch" during a 60-minute interview gave me anxiety.

Another example is this: I went to a local ice cream shop with friends that used to be a very old fast food restaurant. The only seating is fixed booths. The last time I was there (about 10 months ago), I had to pull a stool over from the other side of the restaurant because I couldn't fit in the booth. I laughed it off at the time because I was with a group of people and you know, that's what you do. You laugh at yourself before someone else has the chance to laugh at you (classic elementary school survival technique).

And the third example that happened to me last night: I went to a haunted forest called Panic Point with a group of friends. I had never been there before but I heard that you walk through a lot of dark, tight spaces. How tight are these spaces? Will I be able to get through them? These haunted houses were designed for the average person. But not people like me. What do I do if I get stuck? How tight are we talking here?

I have pondered all three of these events this week and came to one conclusion: my brain has not yet caught up to my body.

Not only that, but I am reminded of perspective and the danger of getting into my own head too much. In my own head, I am still 320 pounds and can't sit on a high-top chair or fit in a restaurant booth or walk through your average haunted house. But when I have recounted those fears to a close friend, the reality is so much different. My friend reminds me I am 80 pounds lighter and running 12 miles a week and can fit on all the chairs, restaurant booths, and haunted houses that I want to.

So, I sat comfortably in that high-top chair. I fit confidently in that booth. And I walked like a scared puppy through those tight haunted houses. (Yes I fit! Yes it was still scary!)

While I am waiting for my brain to catch up to my body, I have learned to get out of my own head. Alone, I hear voices that just don't tell the truth. But with friends, I am reminded of who I really am. And that perspective is what will save us from ourselves.

It doesn't matter what you are battling. I just happen to be battling an obvious weight struggle. Other battles are more private and don't show on the surface like mine does. Each one of us has our thing. But I am telling you: don't battle alone. Lock arms with the ones that love you and fight.

Step one: get out of your own head.

Am I going to fit?

How many times does this ride go
upside down?

When you've been overweight as long as you can remember like I have, you never really forget that the world isn't really made for you.

As of today, I am down 67 pounds. I am fitting into the smallest stuff I own, and have pretty much gotten rid of all my old clothes. I even ordered some pants from The Gap and they fit. When I hold them in my hands, I think they are someone else's pants. When I put them on, I think there is no way they will fit. But they do. And I still can't believe it.

But the big win for the week for me was conquering that roller coaster fear. The last time I did this was in 2012. Pretty soon after that, I injured my back, and that started the surgeries that derailed me and contributed to me gaining about 70 pounds back over the course of a few years.

So here we are, in 2018, and my best friend Julie (who loves roller coasters) invited me to go to Howl-A-Scream with a group to Busch Gardens. I remember saying yes a few months ago thinking "oh it's a few months away, sure I'll go! Last time I rode a roller coaster in 2012 I got nauseous all day, but I'm sure I''ll be fine!"

Saturday arrived, and we approached the first ride called Apollo's Chariot. No upside down or backwards, no problem. Except one problem. Will I fit into the roller coaster seat? If you're naturally thin, you've never thought about this. But when you struggle with weight your whole life like me, you wonder about the airplane seat. And the restaurant booth. And the roller coaster seat. I even remember as a middle schooler, waiting in line for a ride at Hershey Park and getting to the front only to find I couldn't fit into it, and having to slink off to the exit. As a middle school girl. Humiliating.

I guess it's become enough of an issue that, thankfully, theme parks now have a "tester" seat at the front of some of their

rides. These tester seats are for "larger park guests" that don't want to be humiliated after waiting in line and then not fitting.

So Julie and I got up to the ride, saw the tester seat, and I turned to her in a panic and said "What if I get to the front of the line and I can't fit in the seat?" And THIS is why we need good friends. She looked at me almost shocked and said "You will never have to worry about that again."

So I sat in the seat. And I fit. And I realized my brain has yet to catch up to my body. I still see myself as I was at 320 pounds, not fitting in, and being scared of new adventures where I can't control my environment. And the roller coaster? Terrifying.

We moved on to the next ride called Da Vinci's Cradle and it had a seatbelt in the seat. Which fit around my waist, and I was shocked. And then there was a bar that was supposed to latch down over you. I grabbed the bar and it wouldn't latch. I turned to my friend Julie, again, and had a panicked look on my face like "I'm too big for this ride" and right when I thought that, realized that the staff hadn't yet locked it down on the whole ride. It had nothing to do with me. Again, my brain couldn't believe I could fit, and I had that panicked look on my face that I had been used to my whole life: "I am too big to fit."

Shout out to Da Vinci's Cradle. The
motion sickness was too real.

The fun plot twist of the day is that motion sickness doesn't get better as you age, it gets a LOT worse. So I spent half the day on dramamine trying to recover from Da Vinci's Cradle (which goes backwards waaaaaay too much) and another coaster called Verbolten that takes you into complete darkness and scrambled my stomach beyond repair. But, once the dramamine kicked in, I ended the day again on Apollo's Chariot because I needed to end on a high note, not a pukey one.

The moral of my Busch Gardens story? Trust your friends. I see that theme in my life a lot lately. I am the queen of getting into my own head too much. Trust your friends. When you overthink something and are inconsolable, trust your friends. Find that one or two people that you trust, and let them in fully. Don't be afraid to get hurt. You will get hurt. Because people hurt each other. But the best friends are the ones that stay with us through the pain. And talk it out. And ask forgiveness. And accept your forgiveness.

Trust your friends. They know where you fit. And where you belong.

I can't thank this patient group enough (l to r: Melanie,
Julie, Aaron, motion sickness girl, and Amy)

You just have to go through it.

Last night I went through my closet to start getting rid of clothes that no longer fit. I tried on almost everything I had before putting it aside for Goodwill. I thought about events I wore certain clothes to. I thought about how long I had certain outfits, the friends I was with when I wore them, and how I have kept things for so long because they were too small and I now hoped I could fit into them. And here I was, missing that window, and now passing those clothes on to someone else.





I dreaded going through my closet. I'm not exactly sure why. I wanted to keep the door shut and not go through it. But when I woke up this

morning, I realized why I was so afraid to go through it: 

What if I gain all the weight back and need those clothes again?

I have been through this before. About 5 years ago, I lost 80 pounds. Then, due to a long struggle with a back injury, I had two back surgeries within two years and gained almost all the weight back. At my smallest, I gave all my clothes away, and swore I would never gain the weight back. Then I did.

That's part of the reason I sought surgical help to lose the weight and keep it off. I couldn't do it alone. And as the weight is coming off, there is still that fear that one day, it will come back on again. The fear is not logical, but that small voice is always there.

It is easier to go around things than go through them. It is easier for me to keep my closet door shut and not face the past, or fear the future. But easier is not better. I just have to go through it. When faced with pain, we have that fight or flight reaction which can be visceral and subconscious. But, I am practicing the art of being present, to let others into this struggle with me. I am choosing to fight. To go through it and not around it.

So, I am taking these clothes to Goodwill. And I am staring at an empty closet. But as a wise friend told me, this is not a phase. This is a beginning. I am finding so much value in living in this moment, and not worrying about tomorrow. We just have to go through it. Not around it.

A fork in the road.

Sometimes a seemingly unimportant decision can change everything.

So I finally broke my stall with the scale. I am moving in the right direction again, and eating has become a little easier. I am able to tolerate cheese and dairy, and it is nice to chew again! Those protein shakes were starting to get a little boring.

I am down about 55 pounds, and I can really see it. And when I don't see it, other people see it in me. Like I said in my last blog, I am learning to trust my friends. So when I still feel like that hopeless fat girl that can't lose weight, I trust the process. And I trust my friends.

This whole thing has brought up so many raw emotions for me. In the past, when I felt emotional, I would stuff it down with my favorite foods. And then I would feel the discomfort and the guilt. And I would get emotional. And stuff it down with my favorite foods. That's the cycle.

But now, I couldn't do that even if I wanted to. My body would reject it. So instead, I am going outside and walking. Or working out, or lifting weights, or just (shocker!) letting PEOPLE into my emotions, and not just food.

A friend has challenged me to run a half marathon. When she asked me I certainly thought "Me? You must be texting the wrong person." But yesterday, we went running. It was the first time for me to be running outside in years. But she stayed with me, and we made it happen. It's amazing what happens when you don't go through life alone.

Half way down the trail, God showed me unconditional love in the form of the friendliest fawn and her two babies. Yes, I pet the deer on her head. Yes, she was licking my arm. No, that's not photoshopped.

How do I know it was God? Because God is in the details. And God is unconventional. And God knows that I don't pay attention. So He came near. And He made yesterday matter. This seemingly unimportant decision to go running with my friend brought me to a fork in the road. And I chose not to do life alone anymore. I am choosing to do life with others. And God came near.

It is much easier to think you can do it alone. Take it from me, I am independent to a fault. You can't. And honestly, easier is not better. This. This is better. This is an adventure. And what fun is experiencing adventure alone?

The half marathon is in March. I signed up today, terrified but faithful. Because my friend is with me. That's how I know I'm going to be ok. We all are!

"You are f**king worthy!"

A sign from my friend's classroom. Kids need to hear this.
So do we.

So I am two weeks out of surgery. My days are pretty basic right now. I have a few regimens I have to keep. I take 10 vitamins a day at very specific times. I have to find a way to get at least 80 grams of protein in and 100 ounces of water. No sugar, and no carbs. That is more challenging than it seems since I can't chug water or eat anything quickly. I eat with a baby spoon and it takes me about 30 minutes to try and eat an egg. But good news! I can eat an egg!

One of my favorite basic things right now is walking with friends. I have had great walks with great friends almost every day. Our bodies want to move, it's part of recovery. Most of these walks turn to deep conversation quickly, which I LOVE. Because let's be real...that's what matters most.

My friend and I were talking about life and love and how we settle for second best so much in life. We talked about this idea that people use love as currency. I will only give you as much love as you will give me, I will spend love like money, and I will withhold love like money. Why do we do that?

I think that all of us, in different seasons, have settled because we don't think we deserve more. That someone, somehow along the way, has put something in our heads to make us believe we don't deserve everything. I know I have. For years and years and years.  So instead of working through pain, I would stuff it down with food. Instead of reaching out to others, I would reach into a drive-thru window.

It's amazing what happens when the thing I used to always turn to for comfort, is no longer an option. I used to live to eat. Truly. Now, I am struggling to eat to live. Protein shakes are keeping me alive. And I am finding so much more comfort from people in my life. More than I ever dreamed I would. And that would not have happened if I didn't let go of the comfort I was seeking in food.

Let's not waste anymore time. Let's stop keeping a record of wrongs and start trusting each other. Let's spend love without caring about how much we get back. At the end of my walk on Tuesday, and our conversation around this, my friend declared "You are f**king worthy!" She is so right. We all are.

We all are.

When the boat splits from the dock.

When I was in high school, I worked at a young life camp in New York called Lake Champion. I was there volunteering for 5 weeks, and it was the best summer of my life for all the reasons. One of those transformational experiences that every 17 year old needs and longs for.

I worked in the kitchen, and on a break one day I went on a little boat ride across the lake with one of my staff friends. We got back to the dock so I could go back to work. Right at that time, all of the kids were getting out of club (which is like a big assembly) and about 500 of them were walking along the waterfront. 

I got up to hop out of the boat. I put one foot on the dock, and kept one foot in the boat. And I hesitated. I hesitated just long enough to look down and watch in slow motion terror as the boat split from the dock. And my legs split from each other. And the windmill arms started, and I took a swim.

I took a swim wearing jeans and kitchen gear (complete with apron). Have you ever tried to gracefully emerge from lake water in jeans and an apron? Don't.

The best part as I shimmied myself up onto the dock was the silence from 500 high schoolers on the waterfront. But then, the impending applause and general laughter at the balancing act they just got to see. To this day, watching windmill arms when someone's falling is one of my favorite things. Because when have windmill arms ever saved you from falling?!

The morale of the story? Don't hesitate. When you need to jump, jump. Don't waffle between where you were and where you're going. I am finding it so scary to navigate this new life that is revealing itself to me, because I don't trust it yet. I still think I will be the one medical anomaly for whom duodenal switch surgery doesn't work for. Even though I have lost 39 pounds since I started the program (and that's down 20 pounds since July 11th surgery date), I still can't picture what's to come as the scale continues to go down. And I still can't believe it's going to work, because I have lost weight before and then watched it come back.

The boat left the dock for me on July 11th. The good news is that I was safely drugged up on the dock when the boat left. I didn't have a choice to stay in it. Now I get to explore this new land that the dock is connected to.

It's not brain surgery.

You may have won the battle, Oikos, but you
will not win the war.

I must admit, it is jarring to go from a rather hectic life of working at the YMCA (which is pretty much a 24-7 job) and being a town commissioner (which is pretty much a 24-7 job) to a life of trying to drink 8 ounces of water and keep down yogurt.

My nausea subsided yesterday, thank God! My goal yesterday was stay hydrated, and try to get in 80-100 grams of protein. It took me two hours to eat a yogurt. And I didn't come close to getting in my protein goal. But I am taking it slow and trying not to overdue it. The littlest things wear me out. I did laundry and took a shower and I felt like I had run a marathon.

But the most interesting thing I have found it how my brain is still thinking about food. It doesn't help that most commercials are about food. And not just food...how happy people are when they can eat bottomless fries and giant burgers with onion straws and mountains of cheese cake and unlimited salad and breadsticks (yes, I am talking to you, Red Robin and Olive Garden). It is surprising that those images don't nauseate me. They actually make me hungry. And a little bit sad.

But that's because my doctor operated on my gut, not my brain. My brain still wants to live like an overeater. In fact, my brain still thinks that I can. And that's the trickiest thing about the next few weeks...to focus on eating to live, not living to eat.

My kind neighbor wanted to help me and bring food over, but she stopped herself and we both laughed at how food is love. When people are sick, we bring them food. When there is a wedding, we eat cake. When there is a funeral, we bring casseroles.

One of my co-workers stopped himself when he said he wanted to set up a meal chain for me while I was out. Again, we both recognized that food is how we show love. It is so difficult to retrain our brains to think about NOT turning to food in crisis, emotions, celebrations, and social outings.

I'll let you know when I figure that one out. For today, I am focusing on conquering that greek yogurt.  And taking life one small baby spoon bite at a time. (no seriously...I had to buy baby spoons at Target...)

"What kind of surgery are you having?"

What a harmless question, right?

Until you ask it of someone like me who is a bit ashamed of resorting to weight loss surgery to get healthy.

The process through insurance has been over a year for me. There are requirements that insurance needs to approve the duodenal switch surgery. For those of you thinking of weight loss surgery, here is what I have had to go through:

1. Primary care doctor visits documenting weight concerns for over a year.
2. Initial orientation with a team of nutritionists.
3. Weigh ins.
4. A sleep study.
5. A psychiatric evaluation.
6. Weigh ins.
7. Protein seminars.
8. Bariatric surgery consults.
9. Weigh ins.
10. Endoscopy and colonoscopy.
11. Hospital consultation.
12. Blood work.
13. More blood work.
14. Did I mention weigh-ins?

Don't get me wrong. I am thankful for the process because of one thing: they are operating on my digestive system, not my brain. My brain has to be ready for the change. The process has given me lots of time to process and thoughtfully consider what I am about to do.

This is known as the "DS" or, duodenal switch. It is
now considered the most effective surgery to
lose the weight and keep it off.

But it doesn't mean the insecurity and fear of judgment goes away. When I lost 75 pounds a few years ago, it was with blood, sweat, and tears. Lots of tears. At my lowest weight, I ended up needing lower back surgery. About two years after that, I needed upper back surgery. I was working out over an hour a day, 6 days a week rather faithfully. But I just couldn't get a handle on the eating. I allowed myself too many "cheat meals" and we all know, those turn into "cheat days" and "cheat weekends." And when you can't work out due to injury...you sit around a lot. And eat.

Want to know what's worse than being overweight? Losing 75 pounds and gaining it all back.

While some say surgery is the easy way out (and yes, I have heard this from well-meaning people), I must say, now that I am living in it and on day three of my liquid diet prep...it most certainly is not easy. And if I hadn't of had the year long preparation, I don't think my brain would be ready.

We have five days to go. And I apologize in advance to all of you that will be around me between now and Wednesday. Because I am perpetually hangry. Forgive me?

White flag.

This woman has wisdom. AND a
motorcycle license.
Perfect combination.

Another early morning where instead of doing what I would choose to do if I was able (work out), I have to do what was chosen for me. Ice my back. Make coffee. Take medication. Sit with God. This is the 2 hour window that I need to prep for my day so I can actually be a walking, functioning member of society.

Tomorrow I have round two of my spine injections. I am putting a lot of hope in tomorrow. What God is asking me this morning: "Why can't you put THAT much hope in Me, today?" I still don't trust God fully. That is disappointing.

The temptation here is to hurry up the healing. But isn't that our way? "As soon as this is over, everything will be great." "If only I was past this, I could get back on track." "If I just didn't have to deal with this, I would be more thankful."

I am learning how to wave the white flag here. I have to surrender. I can fight this all I want, and cry every day about it (which happens each morning, like clock work), or I can surrender. I preach surrender to other people every day. But now it's time for me to man up and do it myself.

I am a fixer. I want to fix things and immediately move on. I equate this problem with that stupid show "Extreme Home Makeover." (sorry if you like it, but it is really emotional propoganda.) They set out to do great things. They rebuild a home in a week. I always wanted them to go back to that house a year later to see how it's fallen apart because of the carelessness of rushing through a renovation.

I want to be renovated by God from the foundation up. And I can only imagine how much time that takes. Because I am tough. And God knows that. He also knows how long this will take so that the change will actually stick.

So it's white flag time. For me. And maybe for something in your life too?

-Liz

People plungers.

Friday night I had my friends Hannah and Austin over for dinner and a little backyard bonfire. We have all had crazy weeks, it was great to sit around and do nothing. Our conversation even brought up the question: What is the grossest thing you've ever had to work with or clean up or touch? (This question is important to the story, and is about to have a new answer.)

They left at around 10:30 and I came back into the house to the sound of rushing water. I peaked into my downstairs bathroom and my toilet was...I don't know how to put this...EXPLODING.

And I mean exploding. Like a dirty fountain filled with toilet paper, leaves, pine needles, and a number of other questionably mirky things.

It's great to get to the point where you don't know
how to thank your friends for being your friends.
Side note: we all had to throw our shoes away after
this event on Friday night.

I was standing in a few inches of water in my bathroom and thought: "What do I do?" I didn't even have a plunger.

I simply thought that one of my friends had blown up my bathroom and then high tailed it out of there. But now I have a mess. A HUGE, stinky, mess.

So I called Austin and said "EMERGENCY! Bring a plunger!" She and Hannah were at my house in 5 minutes.

To make a long story short, Hannah's dad had a carpet cleaner (thank God) and we spent the next few hours bailing out the mirky water and floating debris (that's what I am choosing to call it) and waiting for the plumber. Mike the Plumber showed up around 1 am with the tools for the job and some stories that have scarred me for life. (Note: don't ask a plumber about the weirdest thing he's ever seen unless you are prepared to be psychologically changed forever.)  Mike the Plumber's diagnosis is that one of the outside sewer lines had been cracked by tree roots and the pipe was clogged up with roots and debris, causing my toilet to clog up and eventually back up violently right into my house.

I have had some thoughts to think about this event. Strangely enough, it coincides with a hard reality that God has shown me this week. Something I have known for my whole life but am so afraid to admit:

I SUCK AT LETTING PEOPLE IN.

All caps. There, I said it. And maybe this is why I like keeping a blog. I can really bare my soul to everyone, but it's on my terms. In my words. Limited. My way. No surprises.

My back stuff has forced me to rely on others. It has slowed me down. It has made me examine myself and look in the mirror harder than ever. And Friday night was hilarious to me because I was like...embarrassed to ask for help. But I had no other choice. I had to call my friends and they had to come over and stick their hands in my shit (sorry, but seriously, that's what it was) and help me clean it up. There was no way around it.

Reminder: your texts are more
important to people than you think.

I called Austin and Hannah because I thought I just needed to borrow their plunger. That I only needed a tool from them. Austin said it pretty well at the end of the night: "The best part about this, is that you thought all you needed was a plunger."

What I needed was them. It's crazy how we use other people to get what we want, and don't even know it. But Friday, for me, was a funny reminder from God that I need people. And that's not always on my terms or the ways I want it to be. Sometimes people see the parts of me that I don't want anyone to see. And surprise surprise, they love me anyway! In fact, people seem to like knowing these parts of me!

Would I have preferred my toilet to have not exploded? Yes. But did God use it to paint me a picture of why it's necessary to let people in? Yes.

Newsflash: I don't have it all together. And neither do you. So can we stop pretending that we do?

-Liz

Cross your legs.

Trust me when I say, there are a thousand things going on in my head. I need to write a blog about how I am ACTUALLY losing weight, practical ways to do it. I need to write a blog about the self-discipline changes in my life, I need to write a blog about community and change and distance and fear but the topic that will win today is:

Crossing my legs.

It's crazy how I can't see the difference in my body like other people again. It just proves how skewed our view of ourselves is. I have lost 76 pounds since September. But there are days where I still feel that I look the same. The coolest indicator for me lately, however...is being able to cross my legs.

When I was in middle school I was in church choir. I remember that we had a special performance one year and all the girls were to sit at the front of the stage and our choir director instructed us to wear black skirts, and to sit with our knees together, or to cross one leg over the other so we all looked the same. Performance day came and I crossed my legs like the other girls and after the first set of songs, my mom discretely told me "don't cross your legs anymore, because the congregation can see a little too much."

Embarrassing at the time, but a reality now that my legs, since middle school, haven't been crossable since. And it's really only been in the last few months that the comfortable way for me to sit has been to cross my legs. You probably take that for granted. You also might take for granted the fact that you can sit in any chair with arms without wondering if you can fit in that chair. There is an average-sized world of people that has no anxiety over chairs, booths, seats, rides, and everything in between.

I look at my legs now, and I can't believe how awesome they look. I can't believe I can sit in a chair with arms and see extra room in the seat. Honestly. I don't think I'll ever get over how crazy that is. But I feel like such a bad ass when I cross my legs. I try to do it every chance I get.

I have a lot of years to make up for, after all.

-Liz

What keeps you running?

I remember, very clearly, being a student at Unionville High School and watching people run around the track and having anxiety like you would not believe. That oval has always been foreign to me. In fact, the entire world of athletes and sports and fitness seemed to be my natural enemy.

It's hard to explain what's been happening to me in terms of my relationship with working out. I have two women that I meet with regularly to talk about our weight struggles and victories. When we first started meeting, I didn't believe my friend Pam when she told me that "one day, you won't be dying to eat fast food like you are now." I didn't believe my trainer when she told me that "one day, you will crave working out like you crave junk food now."

I thought they were crazy. I was very wrong.

There is a shift that happens when you choose that you are worth saving. This shift happens when I said to myself "I deserve a life better than this cycle of eating crap secretly and using food to fill the places in my heart that only God can fill." Most of us don't believe we are worth the unconditional love that God is offering to us. So we try to find that love in things that ultimately let us down, leave us more broken than we started, and put us on a path of self-destruction.

That's what food has done for me, and it showed on my physically. How many of us have those things in our lives, but the evidence isn't as obvious?

Yesterday morning I got up and I ran 4 miles. This morning I got up and I ran 4 miles. Running has become my thinking spot. I truly see Jesus Himself running beside me and showing me the path ahead and reflecting on the path behind. We have come so far. We all have. And the allusions to life that I get while I am running are endless. Hills, valleys, weather, speed, distance, all of it.

The one thing that struck me today, though, is this: I am never going back to how I used to be. How could I ever forget the things that God has shown me? It's like seeing with perfect vision for the first time and then choosing to be blind again. Why would anyone do that? Yet, we all do that to God in certain times of our lives.

Challenge for the day: keep running. Stay in the race, knowing that Jesus is with you. He might be taking you somewhere unknown, but it is somewhere better.

-Liz

What a difference 72 pounds makes.

This week, I am at Blue Ridge Leaders' School with 20 of my Y kids, and 800 others from all over the southeast. This is my third trip to Blue Ridge, and let me give you some fun facts about what happens during a week here.


Here I am at Blue Ridge last summer with one of
my all-star kids, Ashley.

 A lot of walking. In the mountains. Stairs, trails, hills, valleys, and everything in between. Also, a lot of fitness classes. Everything from yoga to triathloning to ballroom dancing to soccer.

Imagine being the fat kid at fitness camp. That was me for the past two years - bringing kids up to this leadership and fitness school when there was no WAY I could do any of it. I could barely even walk up the mountain to the morning devotion site.

Every morning, we walk up a big hill. Seriously, it's big. Without fail, every morning, one of the kids from the flatlands of Florida will yell something out like "GIVE THE FLORIDA KIDS A BREAK!" It's a steep walk. Last year, I would walk all the way up, praying for a chance to pause in between so I could catch my breath, and be so winded on the way that I couldn't have a conversation. I would make it there, barely, and I would be sweating buckets in 75 degree mountain air.

And every day, there are classes. Workout classes. I would hide out as much as possible and avoid all of these classes because, after all, I can't do this. I realize how crude it sounds, and I am not making fun of myself at all, but making the point that I - for all practical purposes - was the biggest person here. And it was embarrassing. How could I ask my kids to do things that I couldn't do myself? What kind of a leader was that?



A picture I took with Blair yesterday.



What a difference a year makes.

This year, I walk up to the devotion site every morning and I can carry on a conversation all the way up. In fact, I am noticing other people around me that are more winded than I am. I can get down on the floor next to my kids and do sit-ups right beside them. I can hold a plank for a minute. I can do a perfect crunch. I am even walking all the way down the mountain every day and doing my own workout in my free time just because I can.

If it sounds like I am bragging, I am. I am so proud. I am so thankful that God has given me a second chance at this life. One of the instructors said this to me the other day: "One day, your body will not be able to do this. Today is not that day." I am so inspired by that, and when I am in the middle of a hundred squats, I think about that and thank God for the body I have. The strength, the movement, the miracle of God's creation.


I know a lot of people read this blog that don't know me. And maybe you are facing something that feels impossible to conquer. To be completely honest with you, I NEVER thought I would be the person to love exercise, find fitness important, and admit that I needed a change in my life. It is my hope that by making this private struggle so public that you might have the courage to face your fears, too.

Once we stop running, stare those fears in the face, and invite someone into it with us, it turns out that those fears aren't so powerful after all.

-Liz

Can you see Jesus in the clouds?

My friend Dee and I have a saying - "kingdom clouds." Kingdom clouds are the white, fluffy clouds that you see in beautiful blue skies. Clouds that look so fluffy, you can only imagine the kingdom of God inside of them. Thick, white clouds that belong to God and just might have God right inside of them.

When we see kingdom clouds, it is the reminder of God on this earth, making something beautiful just for us.

On Sunday morning, I went for a run. I have one of those Nike GPS apps on my iPhone that will tell me pace every 5 minutes. Sometimes I love that lady's voice when she interrupts my playlist to tell me how fast I am going. Sometimes, I hate that lady's voice when she interrupts my playlist to tell me how SLOW I am going. On Sunday, I hated her voice.

But my run was great, and I was on the way back running down Two Creeks Road. I was running down the right side of the street, and another lady was running down the left side of the street. We were both going the same direction, so I saw her out of the corner of my eye as she passed me across the street. When I saw her I thought "ugh, come on...this lady is going so much faster than me. I am so slow."

My internal dialogue continued: "this is so frustrating! Why can't I be as fast as her?" I beat myself like this for a few more moments and then, a shift happened. "What am I doing? Quit being so hard on yourself and realize that you have just run 3 1/2 miles and you feel great! Your legs are strong, your heart is pumping, and your mind is getting sharper and sharper. You are doing awesome, stop beating yourself up!"

I am not kidding you...as soon as I realized that thought and decided to stop beating myself up, this woman, across the street and ahead of me, turned around mid-stride and gave me a thumbs up.

Did she know what I was thinking at that exact moment? No. But God did. Did she know I needed some encouragement? Maybe. But God definitely did. I saw Jesus in that lady jogger just like I see Him in those kingdom clouds. You see the same joggers and the same clouds that I do...but do you see Jesus in them like I do?

Do you see Jesus in the people and places around you? Do you know how badly God is trying to get your attention? This is a beautiful life, and when I stop beating myself up and look for Jesus, I get it. I really, really get it.

But, we have to stop beating ourselves up first.

-Liz

I guess it's finally time for before and after pics...

I never wanted to be that person that posts before and after pics. Whenever I see them on tv or online, I always think "wow, that was so quick!" People make it look...easy.



TOMS walk, April 2011. I officially
started the weight loss journey in
October 2011, but this is the best
"before" shot.



This was NOT easy. This will continue to be NOT easy. This is, in fact, the hardest thing I have ever done, and it's not even close to being over.



So just remember, these pictures are moments in time. They are brief snapshots. You see two versions of me. What you can't see is the sweat, the tears, the pain, the injuries, the early mornings, the late nights, the wonder, the glory, the highs, the lows, and everything in between. And I mean everything.



 I wish I had a picture of me choosing a different route home so I didn't have to drive by a McDonald's. I wish I had a picture of me not eating the tray of christmas cookies at my aunt's house. I wish I had a picture of me at the pool yesterday when, for the first time in my life, I could walk around in my bathing suit and not be self-conscious. I wish I had a picture of every single training session I have had with my trainer, the Romainiac (if you've ever trained her, you would know why she gets that nickname).



So many pictures I don't have. And I really wish that I had a picture of Jesus Christ Himself, running beside me down the Tobacco Trail for 7 miles. Because that would have to be the craziest picture anyone has ever seen. I may not have a picture, but trust me...it happened. And it was very, very good.

Here's to the next 71 pounds!



A recent pic with one of partners in crime, Lauren.
The crime? Breaking hearts. Oh yeah also...kicking ass
and taking names.

Dear high school me...

Last weekend I went up to PA to visit my family and to meet my friend Dee so we could road trip back down to NC together.

I had some downtime on Saturday, so I decided to go over to my alma mater's track and run a little bit. Things have certainly changed since I was at Unionville High School. Now the track is crazy fancy, the football field is turf, and there are advertising billboards everywhere. When I went there, the track was gravel, the football field was full of divots, and the only advertising was the occasional announcement over the PA during halftime.

This is a picture of the field at the high school. This is also a picture of me beginning a reminiscing process that took me back to high school me. High school me hated this track. She feared it. She watched people run around it and wonder how they did it. She had to take P.E. on it and used the old "I have cramps" excuse more than a few times. (sorry, boys...TMI?)

She was also very insecure, and hid her body behind clothes that were baggy, made for boys, and plain enough to never draw attention to herself. She was defeated, knowing there was more out there for her, but afraid to try.

So last Saturday, I took high school me for a run. And we did the fastest 4 mile run I have EVER done. 4 miles in 48 minutes. That's a big deal. Each lap around that track was a marked victory for me. This lap is for high school me, to remind me that I can do it. This one is for high school me, to reclaim the dignity I never showed to myself. This one is for high school me, to give me back the respect and worth that I deserve. Lap after lap after lap.

It is good for us to reminisce. It is VERY good for us to confront the past and not let it poison our present. So go down memory lane if you are so bold, but make sure you bring Jesus with you. Last Saturday, He was pretty clear about running with me around memory lane, but then driving with my friend Dee and I back to North Carolina, to a present where things are looking brighter and brighter.

-Liz

...and the victory flag flies high over the golden arches.

Every week, I meet with my friends Pam and Barb to talk about our weight loss trials and tribulations, victories and triumphs. This past week, Pam was talking about how she has no desire to have a "pig out" day anymore. I told her that I'm just not there yet - that I still can't go into a McDonald's without eating like the old days.

And what, you may ask, did my old days at McDonald's look like? Well, here is an embarrassing admission:

Usually, it was the 2 cheeseburger meal, supersized, with a diet coke. Yes, a diet coke. I didn't want to go overboard, now. Oh and occasionally, add an apple pie. And they used to be 2 for $1, so didn't I want 2, they would ask? Sure, why not? And once, I think I even added chicken nuggets. Alright, take it easy. Quit judging me. It was probably a rough night. Or I was bored. Or, any number of stupid reasons that I would take that all home with me. The calorie total of all that goodness was...

610 for the fries, 300 for each cheeseburger, 280 for the chicken nuggets, and 250 for each apple pie bringing that total to...

1,990 calories. For one meal. To put that into perspective, I now consume less than 1,500 calories a day.

(Another fun one to calculate...I used to be more than willing to eat a pint of Ben and Jerry's in one sitting. A pint of their chocolate chip cookie dough is 920 calories. And that's one of the lower calorie flavors!)


My point is this: I never, ever thought I would be able to go into a McDonald's again without eating like I used to. In fact, when I first started this weight loss journey in September, I would avoid certain routes home so my car wouldn't magically drift into the drive through. But today, today something amazing happened.

I went to Hickory to meet my friend Sam for the day and I really, really wanted coffee. I couldn't find a convenient Starbucks, but I did pass a McDonald's. I went in hungry. I came out with a sugar free vanilla latte in my hand. And you know what? I didn't feel deprived. I didn't feel left out. I didn't feel lonely, I felt EMPOWERED. I felt God's hand on me, and I felt empowered.

Today was a big day. Today was a victory, and today I am grateful to God for how He is carrying me and you through our greatest struggles and into victory.

We should all care enough about ourselves to pay attention to what we put in our mouths. And we should all care enough about our feelings and emotions to stop stuffing them down with food. And you should invite me out for coffee...and we can even go to McDonalds. Turns out, their coffee is awesome.

-Liz

What are we hiding from?

I was just on myfitnesspal.com. It's a great website that tracks calories and exercises for you, and has lists of foods in and out of restaurants, etc. I have the app on my iphone and it has REALLY been a help.

ANWAYS...I was reading someone's blog post where they posted before and after pictures, in the mirror, of 33 pounds before and 33 pounds after. I was reading through all of the replies, the congratulations, etc. and there was one that REALLY got me. One woman replied to the photos by saying:

"Wow, I wish I had taken more before photos, but I was always trying to stay out of the picture."

Painful. Profound. Honest. It has me thinking the same thing. I never took before photos. I am still not taking photos. Why? I'm not scared to jump in a group photo. But I am scared of taking photos of my work in progress. Am I still trying to stay out of the picture?

Just a question of...what are we hiding from? Is it a person? Is it ourselves? Is it our potential? What are we afraid of?

I don't know the answers. I do know that, for me, sometimes it is painful to acknowledge change and be the center of attention. It's hard to take a compliment, and it's scary to find myself in a new reality. But it's the good kind of scary. Like a leap of faith. Like trusting someone. Like accepting love. Like accepting that someone loves me unconditionally.

I am losing weight because I am loved, not because I want to be loved. See the difference? After 35 years, I do.

-Liz

It's not about the pizza. It's about what the pizza represents.

Last night I was on the phone with my friend, having yet another conversation where I am trying not to cry, trying to get over it, trying to be ok with this new lifestyle of mine. I had just gotten back from a 4 day work event, and while I was gone, I kept thinking "I can't wait to go home, sit on my blue couch, and eat a whole pizza."

I told my friend about this, and her response was "yeah, but once you eat that pizza, that ten minutes of enjoyment turns into a regret of over 1,000 calories."

Her response was absolutely correct, but really bothered me. It bothered me because, I am asking my naturally thin friend to understand this important point: It's not about the pizza. It's about what the pizza represents.

Why, in my excitement of relaxing, do I always attach FOOD to that great experience of relaxation and relief? Why can't my thoughts be "I can't wait to go home, sit on my blue couch, and watch tv, or read a book, or talk with my friends, or whatever, fill in the blank." Why does MY blank always end up being - food?

Our naturally thin friends want to help us. They love us. They care about us in every possible way. But the truth is, they might never struggle with food the way we do. Their relaxation dream might not include food. Mine always will. I think my mind will always wander there, always wish I could do that, always wonder what it would be like.

So if it's not about the pizza, what is it about? This might help you (if you don't struggle with food) to understand your friend that does. It is about reverting to a lifestyle of doing what I want, being alone with one of the only friends I let close to me (food), and being able to control my life. You see, when I overeat, when I use food as a comfort, it is historically at home, in private, by myself. It is shameful, it is fearful, it is perpetual, it is an addiction.

I'll be honest...in the old days, it was not uncommon
for me to power through a whole pizza from
Salvio's. And I mean...power through. Past the point
of being full. Just to do it, so I could get rid of it.

Yes, eating too much pizza is a problem and I will regret the calories. But it is a symptom of a MUCH bigger problem: I look to food for comfort. For rest. For relaxation. For validation. For companionship. So as much as I might want to, I could never do that to myself again. Not because of the calories, but because of the lonely place that it takes me. In my heart, I never want to go back to that dark place again.

When I make a food mistake, and I will, I have to move on. I have to forgive myself and let go. But I have made a decision to not use food as a reward anymore. I am not a dog. Food is not my reward.

-Liz