To explain, let me go back to where the issues began. Six weeks ago (just after the marathon), my weight jumped up… Four pounds past my “max-weight” I was enforcing. I chalked this gain up to the fact that I was not longer training and therefore running 30+ miles on a weekly basis… In all honestly, in the weeks after the marathon, I was hardly running at all — maybe once a week for a few short miles. I as just absolutely burned out. I was still working out though, mostly boot camp DVD’s and Zumba 5-6 days a week… But I was still starving from being ale to eat more during the marathon and not burning nearly as many calories as my body was used to. So, I gained. And my self-esteem plummeted. Did I mention I was going through a a break-up with a guy who was pretending not to date me at the time. (Oh, you know, we were just “hanging out” and talking on a daily basis and seeing each other on the weekends. Like I said, “not dating.”) Anyway, that didn’t help the weight issues at all. Old habits die hard.

Fast forward to a month ago… I was losing very little weight despite eating 1500 calories/day and working out at least 5 days a week. So, two weeks before Christmas I decided to try calorie-cycling to help get the ball rolling. I did 3 days at 1350 and then a day at 1650 just as Raphael had me try around this time last year. As I suspected, it worked well. Two days before Christmas I was feeling good about things and was down to 157. Sweet success was mine and I was on my way back to my “goal weight” of 150. Then Christmas happened. I wasn’t dieting Christmas day but I did well and got back on track in the days after… Then New Years came and I was out of town for a 4-day weekend and lost my damn mind with drinking and party foods and eating whatever was around instead of eating carefully.

I haven’t stepped on a scale as I just got home yesterday… And I am scared. I am back on track today and don’t think I gained all the weight I had lost back as my jeans still fit (they didn’t fit for a few weeks before I lost this weight) but it still makes me nervous. I tried to restart the calorie-cycling today and didn’t succeed. Thanks to my binging all weekend I was starving and had to eat more than 1350… I guess I should have seen that coming though considering I was eating a ton all weekend. Not a great idea to go from 2000+ calories to 1350 while doing cardio and weights…

So, I guess tomorrow is a new day. I’m sick of feeling like a failure lately at this dieting thing though… I know what to do, at one point I had lost 99 freaking pounds! I wish I could just pull it the hell together… I need to push through the frustration that I am STILL dieting, suck it up and do it. This is my life. I think I will always battle good eating and weight issues. I may be thin but it doesn’t mean I can forget what I need to do to stay this way… I never wanna go back to that girl ever again. I guess that very fear is what will keep my pushing forward and trying harder and harder. It begs the question though, will I ever really be done? Or completely satisfied with how I look when I look in the mirror?

I'm in the pair of girls. I'm on the right.

Before we even started, I knew this race was going to be a battle. Jess had been very sick all week and her doctor had warned her to take it easy. She had fluid in her lungs and was just trying to make it through the race without getting hypoxia… or in her words “without being carried out on a stretcher with oxygen.” I had been fighting getting sick all week and pumping myself full of vitamin C to hold things off and for the most part, my strategy had worked. My battle on race day was not with sickness it was with terrible stomach cramps which pushing through or bathroom stop seemed to fix.

We started the race rolling up hill. On the first upward push for mile 1, I felt amazing. It was mile 1 so I was still trying to find my groove but it was absolutely incredible to run through confetti at the start and all the people cheering us on. Those cheers and happy faces and peppy chants keep my moving. Mile 2 felt good too. Around mile 3, I noticed that Jess was starting to look a little concerned and she had mostly stopped chatting as we normally do during out runs. This was an immediate warning sign for me. When I questioned her, she said she was feeling dizzy and her heart was racing. This concerned me. We slowed for a few minutes and I urged her to catch her breath before we started pushing again. I think she felt bad — like she was holding me back. And I struggled a little with this thought. I knew she wanted to finish this race. And I knew that I would never want to go the next 23 miles alone. But I also knew she probably shouldn’t have been trying this run at all and that there was no way in hell she would stop now. So, together I would make sure we finished the race. She deserved that much. After all, I would never have made it through training to get to race day if she hadn’t agreed to do it with me. I owed her a lot. And little did I know, I’d be struggling myself later in the mileage of this race.

Shortly after we started back into mile 3, we rounded a bend into the zoo. We ran along the access road and they had a few animals out to help cheer us on. I love this idea! I was wishing we had seen some more animals but it was a neat concept. Mile 4 is where my stomach starting trying to beat me up. Ugh. Worst stomach cramps ever. Water didn’t help. Running through didn’t ease it. Bathroom break was useless. So, with no other choice at mile 4, I told my stomach to back off, that it wasn’t winning this battle, and pushed onward. Miles 4 though 9 were good ones for Jess and I. I feel like we settled into a good groove and things rolled along nicely. Jess struggled some with her throat and lungs and my stomach was still making itself known but we ignored our issues and pushed forward.

Around mile 9, I was really excited to be almost to the double-digit miles and I knew my friend from work would be coming up along the route soon to cheer us on. She found us at mile 9.5 and helped me forget how much I wanted a water stop and gave me the burst of energy I needed to keep moving. She ran along with us for a few minutes and it was really nice to chat and get some fresh perspective. After my friend stopped, Jess and I ran down towards the Under Armour plant for an ‘out and back’ until mile 13.

I was ecstatic to reach mile 13. Halfway there. Only, to be honest, as much as I was trying to look at it as “glass half full” I couldn’t help but think, Great. Half way. That means we have another 13 to run…” I tried to push back these thoughts though and for the most part, I was able to do it. Our strategy to run between water stops and then 1-minute stop to drink and catch our breath was feeling pretty good (despite our individual lung/stomach issues). The water stops were starting to be less than what I need though at mile 14. I didn’t want to carry anything on race day but it was sunnier and hotter than planned and that sun was dehydrating me faster than the every-2-miles water stops could keep up with. I stopped for another quick bathroom break at mile 14 and then we got back to pushing on. We ran through Fells Point and down by the old Fletcher’s location and smelled the delicious scents of baking bread. Miles 14 to 16 were kind of a blur that I’d chalk up to knowing where we were and just taking in all the familiar sights.

Once we reached 16, the doubt started creeping in. But, I knew we only had 10 miles left. We could do this. The downside was my cramping was getting worse. It was almost unbearable but what was I supposed to do about it? Nothing was helping and I just had to keep going. Jess’s issues were getting worse too. Her throat was constricting and her old ankle injuries were flaring up. From mile 16 to 19 we stuck it out and just pushed and pushed and pushed. We walked the uphill’s and ran the downhill’s. We gave those miles all we had to give and just kept running. At 19 though, Jess could barely walk on her ankle and my stomach had cramped up beyond belief. So, we resigned to walking for a while and likely for the rest of the race. She’s one hell of a power walker (I literally have to jog to keep us with her… damn long legs) and we quickly reached Lake Montebello at mile 20. It was beautiful and gloriously flat. We caught our breath and worked on loosening up our legs and I stretched out my hips joints, which were aching.

After the lake, we hit mile 22 and it was mostly uphill until mile 25. We were power walking with me just trying to stay with Jess because she is so much faster at power walking than me. I knew that she was keeping us moving though so I appreciated the effort. I also knew that if she slowed or stopped, she wouldn’t be able to start back again so I was glad she was pushing. At times, I was running to catch up to her and I thought each time, maybe I should just run for it. Go, GO! But as soon as I closed the short distance between her and me and was ready to tell her I was going for it, I’d get a fresh wave of cramping that would nearly halt me. So, I never made the big push even though I considered it seriously about every half mile between 23 and 26.

At mile 25, we could see the city buildings coming back into view. I wanted to cry. I think I almost did. My legs were dead. I am honestly not even sure how I made it. The uneven road surface had made my feet hurt worse than they’ve ever hurt on any other run and I can still vouch that a day after the race they are incredibly bruised. But, it was mile 25. Who the hell would quit now? I felt pure relief when we saw a sign that said Camden Yards was 7 blocks away. I could do that. That seemed quantifiable. So, we kept going. Past the bars, and the sidewalk karaoke-machine-preachers who assured me that ‘it wasn’t all about winning,” and we came down Eutaw Street. I saw a girl eating a snow cone and I had never wanted anything more in my life. I am such a fat-kid even when running a marathon. Who else gets to mile 25.9 and thinks, “gosh, I’d kill for a snow cone!”

At the 26 mile marker, Jess and I both took off running as fast as we could for the finish line. It both hurt and felt amazing at the same time. I was SO HAPPY to be done. They announced my name, I waved briefly at my family and I got my finisher medal. I could barely walk when I stopped running after that last push but I somehow made it.

I got a thing of “ReGen” muscle recovery milk (so much tastier than muscle milk!) and a bottle of water. I was exhausted but went to find my family. I am really, really happy I did it but I am kicking myself for it being such a tough running day. I feel like we should have finished so much earlier but I guess you can’t plan for a rough body day. Before the race and even for about an hour after the race, I said I’d never do another marathon. But I am so disappointed my time, I am sure I will do another. I know I need to be proud I did it at all; most people will never be able to say that. But, I also know I could have done so much better on a better day. And hey, I need to perfect my strategy, right?

PS: I never did get that snow cone. After I crossed the finished, I never thought about it again.

I swear I smiled in most of the photos my parents took. Just apparently not here.

My Grandmother and I after the race!

Photo courtesy of http://illusion.scene360.com/photography/3463/underwater-fairytale/ Taken by Elena Kalis

Every girl wants the classic fairytale but the bottom line is that life doesn’t really work like that. There’s never a clear climax and resolution to life or to a relationship that shouts out “fairytale” over all the other mundane details of life. Or is there? Maybe it’s there and we’re all just a little too cynical and used to things falling apart to really look for the fairytale, believe in the fairytale and see it for exactly what it is.

After all, in the beginnings of all the classics, the damsel was always working her life away doing something tedious and boring just waiting for something and someone exciting to walk in and sweep her off her feet. Granted, Sleeping Beauty had it pretty easy. She just had to lie there all preserved and flawless to wait for her prince charming, but the rest of those fairytale girls slaved away working for the likes of wicked stepfamilies, corrupt kings and queens and treacherous townsfolk.

In the real world, we are expected to get jobs, pay our bills and do whatever it takes to make ends meet. Times are tough; the ends seems to be getting farther and farther apart and some of us might even be wishing for a bite of that damn poisonous apple that would give us only so much time for that prince of ours to find us and commit. I mean, one can only hope impending death of his future beloved should make him admit he likes you and commit a little faster, right?

I was talking about this “fairytale” dilemma with a friend of mine over the weekend. We were listening to music in the car and “Love Story” by Taylor Swift came on. While I like the song and enjoy its sentiment, I couldn’t help but shake the overwhelming frustration that life doesn’t really act like this. I abruptly stopped singing along after the “he kneeled to the ground and pulled out a ring” line and looked at my friend very matter-of-factually and said, “it doesn’t happen like that in real life. No love story goes from the girl being frustrated and tired of waiting for a guy to pull it all together to a proposal. It just doesn’t happen like that.”

My friend kindly disagreed and explained to me that real life happens exactly like that day in and day out — most people just don’t seem to notice because we’re all impatient and fail to put the events of our lives together and view them as the ‘big picture’ the way a song or book or movie might condense them. This was a thought I found really intriguing. I had never considered looking at my life this way. The day-to-day events are exactly that; the unimportant things that make up the small details but don’t necessarily portray the big picture. While each and every thing that happens serves a purpose and/or helps you to reach a goal or put you on the track to where you are supposed to be going, the basic fact is that those things are just the small things. They don’t amount to anything at first glance. Your trip to Starbucks or the broken heel on your way into work or the fight you had with your boyfriend are not life-altering things. They are the details of life. They are all part of the fairytale. They might be the part leading up to the climax where you meet the prince or where you get the big promotion you’ve been waiting for or you win the lottery —who knows. It’s your fairytale, after all.

No matter what your fairytale happy ending entails, most people simply don’t choose to step-back and look at life as their version of a fairytale. It’s easy to forget that fairy tales don’t have such a happy beginning. There was always a reason the fairy-girl was wishing to be whisked away from her sad little life. It always sucked. But as you know from all those fancy Disney movies and romance novels, that’s not where the girl’s story ended. They don’t leave us all hanging with Cinderella still high on cleaning supplies talking to mice and dust bunnies. Eventually, they give us the rest of the story where things turn around and start feeling magical. She goes to an amazing dance, and meets the guy of her dreams. But wait a second; things fall apart again after that. She loses her shoe and she has to put faith in a boy (always a little risky) to have the wherewithal and persistence to find her based on a stupid shoe. That could take forever. And in real life, it probably would have. But the fairytale version is slimmed down for us and skips right to a while later where the prince comes knocking on the door, finds Cinderella and marries her a short while later.

My point is, that even in the classic fairy tales, life isn’t perfect. The leading ladies still have to live their lives making the best of what they have until something or someone more meaningful comes along to help rescue them. The fairy-girls were all lonely too. We all just skipped to the good parts faster in the books and movies than we get to in our own lives. And sometimes, you have to remember you are the leading lady and you might need to take matters into your own hands. Don’t sit around moping for a guy or a promotion or whatever it is that you think will give you the happy ending you deserve. Go freaking find it!

It’s hard to see the story you’re in while you’re in it. It’s hard to be patient for the magic. But, instead of fighting against your life and ultimately your happy ending, live it to the fullest you can. Live the good parts, the bad parts, the annoying parts and the boringly mundane parts. All those parts will eventually lead you to what you’ve been waiting for all the time — the happy ending.

After all, happy endings can’t be happy if you never had the sad and boring parts to make you appreciate all the goodness you’ve found.