Progress Does Not Happen Overnight

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Look upon my 4-day unwashed hair. It makes me look like I’m standing in front of a fan, but really, I’m just a swamp creature and the dried sweat of previous days is holding it up.

Anyway. I am a sucker for instant gratification. A lot of people will blame that on being an American or a Millennial, but I love it when I immediately get results from something I do. I like to be the best at everything the first time I try, and this line of thinking, while also unsustainable, is extremely silly. Many things take practice, consistency, and dedication, but I want it and I want it immediately. Unfortunately, I think this often bleeds over into my quest to become healthy.

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One of the things I have been working on, though, is my ability to stay dedicated while understanding that changes for a healthy life do not often happen overnight, and when they do, it is hard to keep to those goals or standards, especially goals and standards made in moments of high motivation because they don’t allow for days when you just can’t fucking be bothered. I have done this one too many times– gotten too excited, planned big, and then let myself down when “real life me” can’t live up to “motivated me.” It’s a real thing and this year, I’m setting out to change these things.

Consistency. Consistency has been a word I have been using a lot lately because it is so important in the health and weight loss game. I can eat well and exercise for a month, but if I cannot be consistent in the second month, in the third month, then that first month is essentially meaningless. Creating consistent habits and following through with small steps to ensure progress has become one of my main points of focus this time around and so far, it’s really working for me.

Well, that and trying new things that previously scared the fuck out of me.

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This picture, taken in March of this year, changed everything for me in so many different ways. See, in March of 2016, I joined a biggest loser challenge and lost 7kgs in a month through exercise, low carb dieting, and drinking less than I usually do. I was elated and that progress, that quick progress, motivated me throughout the summer. In August, I was probably the thinnest I had been in years, was running regularly, and had a stronghold on my eating habits. I then, in September, took a trip home and my habits just went to shit, y’all. I came back and partied, I stopped caring about what I ate, I ran a couple of times, I tried to get my eating back on track, and I just didn’t give enough of a fuck to work hard for what I wanted. I allowed myself to slide back into old habits that did not fulfill me long term. After a weekend of extensive partying, this picture was snapped of me and uploaded on Facebook and when I fucking saw it, I cried at work.

Now, I am not saying that people who have this body type should be ashamed of themselves. On the contrary, I am not in any position, or do I have any desire, to tell people what they should feel or how they should look. I am not here for that. But, I was not proud of myself and I was not happy with MYSELF. I was not proud that I had allowed myself to stray so far from what I wanted, from what MY goals were and are. After seeing this picture, I knew shit had to change for me.

So, I joined CrossFit. In CrossFit, I have found a community that really and truly wants everyone to do their best and succeed, and fuck, that is so important to me. On Monday night, we were charged with the following workout:

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50 each of squats, sit ups, push ups, back extensions, pull ups, and fuckin’ burpees. There are not words to describe how much I fucking hate burpees. They scare me, they overwhelm me, and often they mentally defeat me before a workout even starts because I am so convinced I cannot do more than two or three of them in a row. On Monday, I was terrified of this workout. It seemed like so much and so impossible for me. My CrossFit coach asked if I wanted to scale it back to 30 or 40 instead of 50 and I said no. I wanted to try to do the real workout. We started. I made it through every set and then I got to the burpees. I got to 30 and felt my body give up. I was on the verge of tears. I was exhausted. My heart was racing. Then, my coach, my beloved coach, got on his knees next to me and said “Don’t give up, Kara. You can do this. DO NOT GIVE UP.” And he started counting my burpees 31, 32, 33. I got to 40 and he counted down, 9, 8, 7. By this point, the whole gym was cheering me, and two other men, on to finish our workout. When I got to 50, when I finished, I cried. I had pushed myself. I had done 50 burpees. I finished my sets in 16:20. I fucking did it. CrossFit has changed me in so many ways, mentally and physically.

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I am thinner, yes. My muscles are stronger, yes. But, my whole approach to what I can do and what I cannot do is changing as well. I  have convinced myself for so long that I am incapable of certain things, certain activities, and that shit just isn’t true. There is so much more I can do, so, I tried another new activity and joined a competitive sports team with Gaelic football.

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I have never been an athlete. Regardless of how tall I am, I have never played basketball. I play soccer sometimes with some women in Daegu, but I’m no Ronaldo, but competitive sports, against a team that wants to win, is not something I’ve ever thought I could do. Last year, I followed this team around and referred to myself as a “Gaelic groupie” because I was friends with a lot of the team, but never had the confidence to play. I changed that this year. I went to practices, failed miserably sometimes, but I kept going. Last weekend, I went to my first tournament with the team and I was so nervous, I thought I was going to shit my pants on the field. I play in goals, and the idea of balls coming toward my head and face was mildly terrifying, especially being kicked by a woman who was not on my team. We played. We won all four games. I blocked some shots. I succeeded. Never, in a million fucking years, did I ever think I could be a success as an athlete and yet, here I am.

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The women on my team have been such wonderful, supportive influences in so many different facets of my life. They have pushed me, they have cheered me on, and they have believed in me, which is something I have a hard time doing most of the time.

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My body will do what I ask it to do, but it needs me to believe in it and its abilities. I am going to try harder to do that and support myself the way these ladies, and a solid majority of my friends, have done the past few months. I never fully understood how much I need my own support, but I do. I think this idea is definitely one thing I have been missing in my fitness and wellness journey— the actual, real belief that I can accomplish my goals.

Consistency. Small changes. These things make all of the difference in the world. Progress does not happen overnight, or even in a month. Progress happens as we forge forward in small ways. Yesterday, we had a holiday, and instead of spending the day inside, lounging, which is what I wanted to do, Robert and I got up and went to a temple, walked around, and explored.

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I have been to this temple once before, and it was last year when I did the hardest hike of my life, which, again, prompted me to think about accomplishing and achieving things I, in the past, believed to be too hard for me to do. That hike was one of the longest, most difficult physical activities I had ever done, and yet, I did it. It opens so many doors when you stop telling yourself you can’t and start believing you can. I know that sounds cliched as fuck, but it’s the truth, y’all.

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I am not a confident person by default. I have a hard time taking compliments. I have a hard time seeing the progress and success within myself, but in order to succeed, in order to be the best version of myself possible, it is absolutely necessary that I see and believe these things. I have come such a long way from where I was a year ago. I have pushed myself, I have challenged boundaries, I have changed my eating habits, I have started new activities that I deemed too advanced, and I have grown. I see so much more potential in myself, so much more opportunity, that it honestly brings tears to my eyes.

Progress does not happen overnight. One summer, I lost 40 pounds after I restricted my calories to 1200 a day and exercised 90 minutes a day. I cried any time I drank alcohol. I cried any time I made a mistake. I used to make myself throw up. I am recovering from being that person. I am finding a balance and I am finding joy in the journey instead of finding pain in the setbacks. I am focusing on what I am gaining instead of what I am losing. So much of my identity used to be tied up in partying, but my identity is morphing. I still like to party and I will always love beer, but these things are not innately Kara anymore.

I will leave you with two progress pictures. I cannot tell you how nervous I am about posting these but this shit, this life, demands transparency and honesty.

I am not the same person anymore. I don’t want to be. I want growth. I want change. I want to be better than I was the day before, and that’s exactly what I’m going to fucking do.

Take care, y’all, and stay healthy.

The Blur of October: Starting Over

img_3419Hey, y’all. It’s been a hot second and a half, but I figured it’s about time to write an update about how my life is going, well or otherwise. It hasn’t been going well, but being honest has always been one of my main tenants for keeping a weight loss blog, or an emotional blog. Since September, my life has been kind of a clusteruck whirlwind, and while I am tempted to be angry with myself for how far I’ve allowed myself to backslide, self-love is probably the most important in times of disappointment.

In the middle of September, I took a two week trip to Kentucky to see my family and to experience Kentucky as it turned to fall. Unfortunately for me, it stayed fuckall hot while I was there, but being in Kentucky was simply amazing. I ate all of the food, drank all of the craft beer, and thoroughly enjoyed my time with my friends. I managed to keep away from cigarettes, I ran a couple of times, but at the end of the trip, I rolled my ankle at a restaurant and put myself out of running commission for well over a week. It was then I sort of knew that I was probably out of the running for the Ulsan Half Marathon, which was my ultimate goal.

By the way, that race was yesterday and I didn’t run it.

After I got back, I had a much harder time of adjusting to Korea again than I had before. I didn’t sleep well; when I slept, it was either from 2:00am-3:30am or from 11am-3:30pm. I was living on sleeping pills, I was extremely depressed, and I started feeling like I was going crazy. October was a hard month for me, but in addition, October is also a party month here. Every single weekend, there was some sort of shenanigan happening– birthdays, award ceremonies, weddings. You name it, October had it. Before I get into the logistics of October, and my feelings throughout the month, I want to preface this with a statement: October was fun. I spent time with the greatest friends in the world and a lot of good, lovely things were part of my life in October.

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But, instead of counteracting my depression with exercise and eating well, I allowed myself to totally abandon my goals and slip into a place that has proven very hard to escape. Instead of exercising, eating well, and confronting my issues, I turned back to one of my old habits, which was drinking my issues away. I ran less than 5 times in the month of October. I ate bullshit. I drank Fridays, Saturdays, Sundays, Wednesdays.I had gone 90 days without a cigarette and in a moment of self-destruction, I caved and had one. I spent a lot of October hating myself, and, as a consequence, my depression, and the side effects, got worse.

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I couldn’t focus. I shied away from my closest people. I tried to keep my problems in my head instead of allowing my friends around me in, to comfort me. I couldn’t find justification for how I felt. Wasn’t I happy? Didn’t I have everything? But, depression doesn’t work that way. It doesn’t show up when things are going poorly and disappear when things are going my way.

I spent October feeling like a fat failure but without any sort of gumption to change or fix the way I was acting or living. I had reached a point of not giving a flying fuck about myself again. A lot of my unhappiness was in the notion that I wasn’t running my half, I had a cigarette, I drank too much, and I punished myself. I punished myself by mentally letting go and fully engaging in the hate cycle and when I had enough, I was so determined to get through it on my own that I didn’t trust my closest people to help me through it. I live in a vicious world of high standards and a low threshold of self forgiveness.

After many conversations with my best friends, and after many evenings spent listless, I am starting to drag myself, albeit kicking and screaming, out of this dark place. I started keeping track of my bullet journal again. I’ve started making food in my house again. I’ve started sleeping at regular intervals again, communicating again, and tonight, I ran again. It was hard.

It was so tempting afterward,  after 2.2 miles felt terrible and like death, and I had run almost 7 miles before America, to tear into myself, to tear myself down with venom and rage because I was not what I was 2 months ago. But, I didn’t. One of my main focus points in the next few weeks, is to gently and calmly start reconstructing my schedule. Slowly, but surely, putting the pieces back into place where I know I will be the most successful. I am not a punching bag for myself; I would not tolerate the kind of toxic behavior I force myself to endure, from myself, from someone else.

It’s time to rebuild, even if it is grueling and hard. It’s time to take care of myself, even when the desire to collapse is at its strongest. It’s also time to love myself with a kind of ferocity I’ve never had before and realize now, more than ever, that my weight does not define who I am. A bad run does not make me a failure. Eating a carbohydrate does not mean that I am weak. I am not a perfect person, I am insanely flawed, and for fuck’s sake, that’s okay.

October, you were rough on me. You were fun, drunk, and an absolute blur. But, it’s time to take up the reigns of self-care and get back to it.

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November, show me what you got.

 

 

I RAN! I RAN! I RAN!

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i know i just updated yesterday, but i had to update again today because I RAN TODAY!!! it wasn’t much of a run and i wasn’t very fast at all, but knowing i can do it again and start building my body back up to the shape i was in before i hurt myself makes me incredibly excited. it’s also a relief, too!

this morning, i woke up at 6:30AM and made it to the pool by 7. i swam 16 laps/32 lengths, which is 800 yards. that rounds out to about .4 miles of swimming 25 minutes. i was pretty pleased with myself, seeing as how i battled to get out of bed this morning. thankfully, the dog was barking so i had to get up and deal with him. once i stepped outside and got wind of the chilly air, i was awake and ready to go. after swimming, i came home, changed, and headed back to the gym for some other cardio. i hopped on a bike and rode 5 miles in 23 minutes, which isn’t super fast but i don’t feel like it’s terribly slow, either. the resistance kept moving back and forth, so i got a nice workout. then, i looked at the track and wanted, longed, craved running so i jumped out there and jogged a little. i ran .55 of a mile in 7 minutes. my foot hurt a little bit so i stopped, but just knowing i can do it again makes me feel so much better about this whole exercise/training/living thing. i feel happier.

it’s off to class and work for me now (without shoes, i might add!) in a much better mood than i’ve experienced in a couple of weeks. i hope you all are having a great tuesday. stay healthy, y’all.