On Why I Love Even Those Who Are Haters And Why I Do It For The Doubters!

On Why I love Even Those Who Are Haters and Why I Do It For The Doubters!

BEAST Mode Day 366.

Have I warned you guys yet that every conversation I have is a potential blog topic? I swear I don’t do it on purpose. There are times that I have these incredible conversations with myself and then I think, ‘Wait, should I write about this?’ Then, there are other times when friends suggest that I write one…this, my friends, is one of those times!

Last week I came across a friend’s Facebook status update that asked the following questions: 

“working on a final class project...help me out...let me know:

what is community to you?

how has community defined your development?

thank you!”

About an hour later, I asked if she was still looking for answers. Because she said she was, and because my answer was not the typical answer college professors want to hear, I decided to respond to her through private messenger.

The following is my response:

So after I decide that I would write about it, I begin taking a mental inventory of everyone in my community. I instantly begin to think of all of the individuals who have not only doubted WHY I am on this journey or HOW I have been able to be successful, but I have (and this is more important) also noticed how many more allies I have!

A lot of my blog has been dedicated to thanking those who have been so helpful and supportive. For the sake of shaking things up a bit, let's talk about those who don't quite buy into the idea of the success of this journey.

I get it. It's hard to believe that someone like me--a food addict who at one point in my life viewed the gym as my enemy--would completely change my lifestyle to make physical fitness and proper nutrition a PRIORITY in my life. Heck, if you want me to be completely honest, I still have a hard time believing it myself. 366 days later, it's still a mystery to me how I stay away from milkshakes and fries and pizza and cotton candy and...and...and...

It took me quite a while to believe that change was possible for me, so why should I expect anyone else to believe in me? I guess that in a way that was the catalyst behind making my journey so public; I had to make sure that I was accountable to something and someone other than myself. In other words, the more people who knew about my journey, the more people would be able to call me out if they ever saw me with melted chocolate on my fingers--holding the smoking gun, for example. There were plenty of eyes and doubters waiting to see me fail. These people were all a part of my community.

The doubters. There weren't many, but they were there. They are there. They are the ones who fuel my success. I am sure that at some point in their life and in their various journeys someone has told them that they will not be successful. This is fact. And because of this I feel that a heavy weight is placed on my shoulders to perform my best, so that I can show that just because someone tells you that you can't do it, it doesn't mean that you have to listen! 

This bears repeating: JUST BECAUSE SOMEONE TELLS YOU THAT YOU CAN'T DO IT, IT DOESN'T MEAN THAT YOU HAVE TO LISTEN!

This person will undoubtedly be a part of your "community"--by choice or by circumstance. So when it's your turn and when it's your journey, don't succeed despite the haters and the doubters, succeed FOR the haters and the doubters. You will be helping them more than you know it. Everyone loves a good old-fashioned success story, right?

I'm curious, what's YOUR definition of community?

On Earning My Wings

BEAST Mode Day 365.

I have been waiting for this day to get here as much as my children await the arrival of Los Tres Reyes: as if there were some gifts that camels would bring for me, or if tamales and champurrado would be waiting for me on the kitchen table when I woke up. 

This morning was like any other on this journey. I woke up. I walked to the bathroom to turn the shower water on. I bent down to touch my toes and I got emotional, you know, the kind of emotional when you don’t want your eyes to water but you really have no control. Maybe I should explain.

366 days ago I couldn’t touch my toes unless I sat on a chair (or on my bed) and maneuvered my body in such a way that I was bending sideways. Better yet, in order to tie my shoes I would have to lift my foot onto a chair and bend over to tie them. This, my friends, was my reality at 334 pounds. It never really bothered me because it is just the way it always has been for me. I adapted to the abilities of my body and never thought I needed to do anything about it.

And then the challenge to change happened:

Joseph Rose I smell a challenge!! You can TOTALLY do a 10K by October!! Come on Lori!! Do it!! I will donate to your fundraiser. $20.00/per Kilometer. Deal?
Lorena Ortega The last time I ran was in high school when I was forced in PE. (Oh, and when I chase after Wolfie)
How would a 1k even be possible, let alone a 10k?
Oh man, now I'm scared...lol
Joseph Rose CALL TO LORI'S FRIENDS: Who thinks she can do a 10K by October?? Baby steps BABY!!
Lorena Ortega Officially freaking out. I have been challenged, and I realize that in order to ask for support, I should at least attempt to do this...
Lorena Ortega DEAL
Joseph Rose It's in writing!! Now...time to train. When do you wanna start?

That was the Facebook conversation that changed my life. That is the Facebook conversation that started this BEAST Mode Day --- training. A new lifestyle was inevitable. Change was inevitable Tears were optional.

We set out on a mission to complete a 10k, but along the road we found that in order to be able to fulfill that mission, I needed to take inventory of every aspect of my life. Was it easy? You be the judge!

I began by taking inventory of the thoughts floating around in my head. What I noticed first is the amount of negative thoughts that came up; I don’t have running shoes, I don’t have a gym membership, I don’t have time, I am too tired, I am too fat, I don’t have anyone to watch my children, I don’t have the wardrobe, I am too fat, I am too fat, I am too fat.

I then began taking a physical inventory of the things already in my life that could help me on my new journey; I had a pair of Adidas indoor soccer shoes—they would work, I had a supportive husband who would be able to watch the children while I walked—that would work, I had a closet full of hoodies and stretch pants, my uniform of daily living—that would work, Joe said all we needed was a line in the ground and my body weight—that would be my gym.

Lastly, I had to change my mindset. This was by far the most difficult task of all. I was so used to always confronting obstacles head-on, trying once, and when failing, seeking ways around them. This was the story of my life. It wasn’t that I was ever looking for shortcuts; I just found it more effective to not spend so much time pounding my head against a wall. I had to change my failure-pessimistic-grassisalwaysgreenerontheotherside mindset if I were to succeed.

I was blessed from day one to have people in my journey who would always make sure that I always felt like a champion. My family, Joe, Sean, Trevor, my friends, my FRENEMIES, and my co-workers all were instrumental in making sure that the bumps along the road were cushioned. I am forever grateful for the support system that I have. There is absolutely no way I would have been able to get through most days without it!

I have learned many things about myself while pushing through this last year:

·         I really don’t need fries at every meal. As a matter of fact, I am 365 days clean of any fried foods going into my body.

·         Pizza is not my best friend when I am hungry. I haven’t had a slice of pizza in 365 days.

·         Donuts were never an ally. At one time of my life, they were my choice comfort food. Funny how they haven’t provided me comfort for 365 days, yet I am still alive!

·         Skipping meals doesn’t make me skinny. I don’t want to be skinny. I want to eat.

·         Sweating is cute. I always shied away from activity that would make me sweat. I now actively seek ways to sweat.

·         I am faster than my four-year-old. He thinks he is a ninja. I am still faster.

·         I don’t have to eat my children’s leftovers for the sake of not wasting food. I have learned that Tupperware is my best friend. If they don’t finish it now, they can eat it as leftovers later!

·         I don’t have to have tortillas or bread with every meal. I have forgotten what white bread tastes like. Tortillas are an afterthought-and often forgotten about.

·         I love to cook. I love trying new recipes. Did I mention that I love to cook?

·         Although my mind tells me that there are times I can’t keep going, my body is stubborn.

·         365 days are not enough. I still have at least another 18,250 days left of this journey.

I have so much more to write, so many more miles to walk, and so many more journeys (of others) to witness. One of the first things I remember saying was that I was going to start a running revolution. I am not a runner…yet. I am, however, a CHAMPION!

There aren’t enough minutes in TODAY to write a blog post worthy of 365 days of awesome-ness. So, the next 365 days I will focus on not only reaching my weight loss and fitness goals and documenting them through this blog, but I will also actively seek ways to help my community reach their own healthy goals.

One of the proudest accomplishments of this year was kicking off our (soon-to-be) non-profit, Lori’s Home. In my next blog post I will explain it in more detail, along with ways in which you can help other people like me, who may not have the resources to help them be successful in their journey.

I thank you all from the bottom of my heart for staying with me on days that I didn’t even want to stay with myself. Thank you for always encouraging me through Facebook messages, virtual hugs, and even virtual lectures! Know that there is no way that this journey would be successful if it weren’t for YOU.

For the last 365 this journey has had feet. I believe I have earned my wings…it’s time to soar.

Life is good.

On Surfing (but I never got on a board), Turning 44 (but I am only 42), and Having Donuts with an Abercrombie and Fitch Model.

(Written on Thursday, June 5th)

BEAST Mode Day 347

This journey is exhausting. There. I said it. I am not taking it back!

Those of you who follow the journey through Facebook will know that I have joined Chuze Fitness across the street from my house. I became a member there to be able to motivate Juanito to get moving, and to also join other friends who have decided to begin journeys of their own. TZone  and my trainers (Joe, Sean, and Trevor) will always be my home and my family, but I feel that what I have learned there is needed right now by my friends and family—I am blessed to be able to share the knowledge!

When I first enrolled at Chuze, the awesome salesperson, Daniel, told me that I would be entitled to a free personal training session that would show me how to use the machines and give me a comprehensive breakdown of how to meet my health and fitness needs. SOLD!

After two months of stalling on this session, I finally gave in last night and made the appointment to meet with a trainer today. I guess I should come clean about why I waited so long, right? The truth is that I hate hearing the truth. I don’t like going to see my doctor because all he does is impart Truth about my health. Why, then, would I willingly go to see a trainer who will put my information in a computer just to tell me that I am fat? What gives them the right? Who made up the program? Will he break it to me softly? Will I lose my mind when the computer starts putting together a graph of everything I do incorrectly? Which trainer do I choose? Ugh, so many things to consider and each time I would approach the front desk, I thought of another excuse as to why I couldn't attend the session.

Today would be different. I went in with the attitude that I would not let it defeat me. Then I walked in. Then I heard the word “burrito” being said and all my caution went out the door. I began imagining the burrito in front of me…refried beans, rice, chicken, sour cream, guacamole, cheese, cheese, and more cheese! I metaphorically began spilling the beans…about my journey. I was telling everyone at the front desk how long it had been since I had eaten a burrito and why. I spoke about my journey and how many changes I had made in my life since the inception of it. I think the trainer could tell that I was trying to avoid going on with our session. He said, “Ok, so I know you have to go to work, so do you want to get started?”

I wanted to run. When I say this, I am not talking about the treadmill. I mean that I wanted to run out the door and back into the safety of my home where the computer doesn’t tell me that I am fat, it only tells me that I have mail! I sucked it up and followed him into the Ab Room, where the computers we would use are located.

We sit.

We talk. Actually, I talk. I begin my nervous chatter again about BEAST Mode and the journey and my trainers at TZone and my friends Maria, Linda, and Heidi, and food. And then I say, “So, yeah, I have this blog that I write, and I like to write about things that are significant. So in the interest of full disclosure, I should let you know that I will more than likely write about today’s experience.” When I see that I haven’t lost him yet, I add, “And I will probably need to take a picture with you to put in the blog. I hope that’s OK with you.” I half-expected him to say no to me and stand up and walk away—I mean, HE would get up and walk away, not me. He didn’t. He responded by saying, “Yes, that would be great. We can take a picture when we are all done.” (I think this is what he said because that’s what I interpreted it as…lol)

We got down to business. He began asking me the requisite questions: age, how much do I smoke, how much do I drink, health concerns, what are my priorities with my fitness journey, how often do I eat fast food, how many meals and snacks I eat a day, etc. I answered each one of the questions as they came my way. It felt like the survey would never end. As a matter of fact, I didn't want it to end because I knew the end contained Truth…I didn't think I wanted to hear it.

So I began my chatter again, only this time it was about the race I hope to run in Vallarta in the fall. He begins to talk about his upcoming trip to Costa Rica and family he has in Cancun—there it was! I knew it. I ask, “Wait, do you speak Spanish?” He answers, “A little bit.” “I knew it! I knew you were Brown,” I say as I am practically jumping out of my seat with excitement. He explains that he is Mexican, Italian, and (I think) French (I forget). Aha—this helps to confirm my belief that this guy is an Abercrombie and Fitch model on his days off!

“What are you going to do while you are in Costa Rica? Is it for business or pleasure?” I ask. WHAT BUSINESS IS IT OF MINE? Is what he should have answered, but instead he says, “I am just going down there to relax and surf.” My response? Do you really want to know?

“Wow, that’s so cool. Surfing is one of my ‘Bucket List’ items.” Seriously, did that come out of my mouth? Did I all of a sudden become a character out of an old Beach Boys video and believe myself to be a beach bunny? Of course surfing is on my ‘Bucket List’ and of course I will one day fulfill that wish, but the next words that come out of his mouth were not words I expected. With all the confidence in the world that he could save me if I were drowning in a raging storm, he says, “I have extra boards whenever you want to go out and learn.” Crap. As I write this blog, I honestly can’t remember what my response was. I am sure that in my mind I was already ripping off my Nike yoga pants to expose the board shorts I was wearing underneath. Also, I am sure that the stained white t-shirt that I was wearing magically turned into a Roxy rash guard…I digress.

We arrive to the part of the survey where he needs to enter my weight, height, and body fat percentage. It asked me where I believed that I carried most of my weight/fat. There was no option for ALL OVER MY BODY so I chose the midsection.  I freak out when I see the next screen. It was a 3-D model of what the computer believed my body to look like. She was a lady who was white from head to toe, small shoulders, round midsection, and thin(ner) legs. I was waiting for him to look at me and make adjustments according to what he saw. I seriously panicked for a minute waiting for that uncomfortable pause in his speech to pass, when I finally realized that he was waiting for me to respond before he moved to the next screen. “YES!” I practically screamed, just so I wouldn't allow him time to realize that the lady on the screen looked nothing like me. We move on.

As we come to the end of the questions and it is about to spit out my results, he lets me down gently by telling me that I only have to lose about 72 more pounds in order to reach my goal. It took everything in me not to choke him out. Does he have any idea what I have given up thus far just to lose what I have lost? Does he know that instead of counting sheep to fall asleep, I count curly fries? Does he know that I cry a little every time I pass by a Tommy’s and don’t order a double cheeseburger with extra onions and chili cheese fries? Does he sense the panic in my body because meeting the goal the computer spit out meant that I couldn’t celebrate my BEAST Mode anniversary with a vodka binge? And lastly, does he know that all I really want to do is hit the delete button on his keyboard and start all over?

Yes. Yes, he does know this because the look on his face told me that I am not the first person who has freaked out on him. And instead of asking me to relax or telling me that hard work will get me where I need to be, he studies my face, works his magic on the keyboard, and shows me ATTAINABLE AND REALISTIC goals. It was as though he passed the ‘just kidding’ wand over my eyes and erased all the self-doubting and self-loathing thoughts out of my mind, and with them went my excuses (a million of them) as to why my journey would need to come to an end.

The final page of my results revealed the most significant thing I learned today, and the scariest. The results are compiled and it gives you three ages; the first age is your actual age, the second age is the age that your body thinks it is based on lifestyle choices and family medical history, and the third age is what your body will think it is when the prescribed goals are met. My actual age is 42.5 years. My body thinks it is 44. WHEN I meet my goals, my body will think that it is 37.

I gasped when those results flashed across the screen. At first I was elated because my body only thinks it is a year and a half older than it actually is—score! Then I was doubly elated to see that if I met my goals, I would be back in my thirties without even needing to click my red heels together. SCORE X 2!

My results were immediately e-mailed to me (I can post them at a later date if you all want to see them) and my session was over. As I got up to get ready to leave, the trainer reminds me that I can always go to him with any questions that I may have about the machines and about the free-weight area that I was inquiring about. I smiled and thanked him for his time and he reminded me that we still needed to go to the front to take our picture. Ha! I had let it slip my mind because I was so busy thinking about getting on that surfboard!

By now (if you’re still reading this) you are probably asking why I dedicated a whole blog post to finding out that my body thinks it is 44 years old. That’s not why I wrote this. OK, so maybe you are thinking that this is an advertisement or endorsement for Chuze Fitness. That’s also not why I wrote this—they will do just fine with or without this blog post. You want to try to guess again? No? You hate guessing? Yeah, me, too.

The reason why I wrote this blog is because I was afraid. After a year of working my ass off in the gym, eating as cleanly as I can, and spreading the importance of beginning your own journey, one would think that situations like this would be something I would easily get through. Do you remember my last blog post when I stated that your journey will be filled with curves and hills and valleys and dark tunnels? Well, I anticipated this experience to be a dark tunnel and I am afraid of the dark!

It didn't de-rail me…IT HELPED ME TO KEEP MY TRAIN ON THE TRACK.  

It didn't knock me off of my journey…IT OPENED MY EYES TO THE IMPORTANCE OF MY JOURNEY.

It didn't blind me from the fact that I have come a long, long way to get where I am…IT TOOK AWAY THE FOCUS OF HOW MUCH FURTHER I HAVE TO GO.

It didn't break me…IT LIFTED ME UP AND MADE ME STRONGER.

It didn't define me…I DEFINE ME.

It didn't make me feel like a loser…I CHOOSE TO BE A CHAMPION.

Lastly, it helped me to remember that many different people positively contribute to my journey. The results of my survey, whether positive or negative, would not have the power to change my course—nor would the person delivering the news to me. However, something tells me that if he would have asked me to a coffee and donuts session, I would have offered to brew the coffee myself! I am thankful that Creator put Anthony in my path, though he may have thought me to be a neurotic old lady!

Go forth, my friends, and don’t be afraid to read your Truths splashed across a computer screen. Embrace every experience on your journey as a learning experience. Mindset…make sure you set the dial to “growth” and keep it away from the “self-sabotage” setting. I believe in YOU. I believe in the success of YOUR journey.

Life is good.

Anthony and myself after my Truth session. 

On Getting Off Track, Losing the Failure Mindset, and Picking Up the Pieces.

Monday, May 5th, 2014

On getting off track, losing the failure mindset, and picking up the pieces.

I believe I still owe you guys a blog entry on the Warrior Dash and all the glory that I felt that day. Please bear with me because I feel that today’s post should be given more importance than my own victory story.

Lately I have had MANY friends and Facebook allies tell me that they feel badly about the fact that they have “gotten off track” or that they have “fallen from the journey.” Some have even gone as far as saying that they have “tried and failed” and can’t seem to get the motivation to keep going.

I get it. Really, I do. These are real human emotions that if we didn't feel them, well, we would probably be categorized as felines or simians (or insert your favorite animal type here).

I will start with those of you who think you have “gotten off track” from your journey. From the time you are born to the time you breathe your last breath, it is all ONE journey. Consider that when you gave your first scream or came out with a powerful fist bump proclaiming, “I’m here!” that you began your journey aboard the train named LIFE. Your parents bought you a ticket, put you aboard, and helped guide you from one destination to another, reaching each one with finesse and flair. You never got off that train. After all, it’s called LIFE and you’re still living it.

If you were to look on a map of roads that train tracks are laid on, you will quickly notice that very few destinations are reached using only straight tracks without having to go through stretches of tracks that contain curves, dips, or inclines. The train doesn't need to stop before taking a curve. The train seldom stops before driving through a dark tunnel. Heck, the train could run miles and miles on auto-pilot mode, right?

This is exactly like your journey!

You begin your journey, whether it is weight loss, fitness, education, pregnancy, health-related, etc., and just when you feel that you deviated from what you or others perceive to be the perfect journey, do you feel like you got off the track? Do you feel like your train stopped and you can’t get back on the tracks? Does this sound like what you feel like after you had a cheat meal, cheat day, or skipped a few workouts (if your journey is weight loss)?

Let me remind you now and hopefully it sticks: you will not reach your destination on a straight track. You WILL have curves. You will have dips. You will have inclines. You just will. Expect it. Embrace it. Thank Creator for it. This does not mean that you have “gotten off track.” I will even go as far as saying that this in no way indicates that you have “fallen from your journey.” This means that you are progressing on your journey.

This reminds me of the time that I was working out with Sean and felt that I couldn't go on. My body was not doing what he wanted me to do and I felt frustrated that my heart rate was raising and my breaths were getting shorter. I will never forget how he saved me from myself that day by reminding me that he never said my journey would be easy; he simply said that it gets easier. In other words, it will never be harder than that first day of my journey. I have faith in those words. Sometimes faith is all I have.

So the next time you feel that you are getting off of the tracks of your journey, remind yourself that although the shortest distance between two objects is a straight line, the lessons you teach yourself on those curves are well worth the time it takes for you to reach your destination!

The failure mindset; that nasty trait that some of us have when things just don’t seem to go our way. We deviate from our plan. We don’t meet a deadline. We break a promise to ourselves. We didn't hit that weight loss goal at the end of the month. These are all examples of events that are important enough to halt our journeys. They don’t have to. As a matter of fact, they shouldn't!

You’re going to fail. There. Yes, I said it. YOU WILL FAIL! If failing means that you didn't fit into the dress you planned so long to wear, then you failed. If failing means that you have to take an extra semester to graduate because you need 3 more units, then you failed. If failing means that the scale reflected a 3 pound loss instead of 9 pounds, then you failed. So. What now?

The test is not in whether or not you will fail (because failure is part of the human experience); the test is in what your action(s) will be to pick yourself up. Repeat it. THE TEST IS NOT IN WHETHER OR NOT YOU WILL FAIL; THE TEST IS IN WHAT YOUR ACTION(S) WILL BE TO PICK YOURSELF UP!

Will you throw together another outfit that makes you feel attractive and call it a day, or will you spend your time and energy thinking about everything you could have changed to ensure that you fit in that dress?

Will you congratulate yourself for the lessons you learned towards healthier eating and moving your body, or will you spend your time and energy counting how many times you ate a bag of chips or a dessert before going to bed?

Will you look at how far you have come (against the toughest of odds) to graduate with a college/university degree, or will you keep berating yourself for needing to take extra time to complete it?

What do you choose? What will you do? How will you react to failing?

This, my friends, is the test. I am here to tell you that the test is impossible to fail it because I have given you the answers: get up, dust yourself off, and remind yourself that it is all part of the journey!

If this doesn't work for you…if you can’t seem to pick yourself up after failing and you can’t figure out why, let me know. I will remind you of all the ways that you are NOT FAILING. I will remind you that your journey is one worth being on, and staying on. I will remind you that there is nothing wrong with admitting that you need a helping hand. After all, my hand has been held throughout my entire journey…why wouldn't I  be willing to hold yours?

So we have determined that our journeys have curves. So I have implored you to get back up after your failure. How, then, do we pick up the pieces?

It’s exhausting to fail. It’s even more exhausting picking up the pieces. Trust me when I say that there is equal value that should be given to each. Acknowledge the failure—then bury the anger and disappointment that accompany it. Seek ways to change your course. Change your mindset!!!!

Not every setback is a failure. Consider it a lesson. Consider it a building block towards your pinnacle of success. Consider it a tool to place in your leadership toolkit…you never know when someone will come to you upset about actions that mirror what you have been through. Use everything you go through to push yourself forward.

Gather momentum. Pause for a moment. Catch your breath. Start again. Eyes on the prize. Pause for a moment. Is there something you need to change? Does your path, although curvy, seem clear of debris and obstacles? If not, focus on the things you can change—ONLY ON THE THINGS THAT ARE WITHIN YOUR CONTROL! Catch your breath. Start again.

Picking up the pieces is a never-ending cycle. Trust and believe in your ability to keep the lessons you will need for later, and discard those that will continuously promote failure. Your journey is worth YOUR weight in gold. Don’t let anyone steal it from you. YOU control it.

Life is good. Really, it is. 

On Public Challenges...Again, Battling Mental Demons, and Searching for Excuses.

Part one of the Warrior Dash Series.

April 6, 2014

Like all good stories, this one begins with a public challenge. Wait, didn’t this whole journey begin with a public challenge?

There was an indication on my cell phone that I had been tagged in a status on Facebook. This is not something out of the ordinary, so I immediately checked my page to see what it said. My friend, Maria Mercado, thought it would be the right venue to call me out and challenge me to enter the Warrior Dash with her. I looked through the web site and immediately decided that it was not for me.

I turned off my phone and went back to work. Two minutes later I logged back into the web site. I spent a considerable amount of time watching the videos and checking out all of the obstacles. Those minutes spent watching the videos solidified my original thought that a race such as this was not for me, but my fingers did the talking for me when I logged back into Facebook and typed ‘I’M IN!’ for all the world to see…and that’s how this all began.

The mental preparation was the first to begin. I immediately began thinking about my wardrobe (a girl has to look cute!) and decided that I would wear something tight and cute. After all, being aerodynamic was going to get me over the fire hurdles faster and safer! The next thing I began to think about was that I needed to buy elbow braces, knee braces, and ankle braces—this girl is 42 years old and I can’t be messing with my joints at this stage in life, right? This is about the time that the loud voice in my head reminded me that BECAUSE I was 42 years old, I HAD NO BUSINESS DOING AN OBSTACLE COURSE RACE!

Paranoia naturally set in. What am I getting myself into? What if I fall and break my neck? What if I burn my ass while jumping over fire? What if I make it halfway through and stop? What if? What if? What IF? I knew that the only way to get over these feelings of apprehension was to call in the big dog; Joe Rose!

If you have been keeping up with my blog or with my Facebook, you will be very clear on who he is to me. He is my friend, my confidant, one of my trainers, and one of my biggest supporters. I knew that this race would be something that he would consider doing with me. Lucky for me, he immediately agreed to do it. Soon after, he announced to me that my other two trainers from The Training Zone, Sean and Trevor, would also be doing the race with me. Suddenly there was no way out from this public challenge; the point of no return was reached and there was only the future to look forward to.

I began doing strength training and started boot camp classes with my friend Jackie to work out every muscle in my body. If you have ever done boot camp, you will agree with me that those classes are pretty intense. I would begin sweating in my car from the nerves of going through the classes! I walked into my first class not knowing what my body was capable of doing in this type of a class. I am pretty certain that the head trainer at FitBody Boot Camp, Mike Cahl, took one look at me and thought he had his work cut out for him! He and the other trainers, Stacy and Daniel, had me jumping, contorting my body, kicking, punching, planking, and squatting to music I couldn’t stand!!! I did everything that my body was capable of doing, and I knew by week two that I was going to go into this race physically prepared to conquer anything.

Something was still missing.

As the days passed and race day neared, I began to seriously doubt myself and looked for reasons why I couldn’t do the race:

A)    I couldn’t afford it—the entry fee was already paid for.

B)    I had nothing to wear—my husband took me shopping for new gear.

C)    I didn’t want to slow anyone down—everyone was doing this FOR me and WITH me.

D)    Maria couldn’t get out of work to do it with me—the team kept getting bigger and suddenly there were 6 of us from OC and 4 from LA.

E)     The web site said the course was moderately hilly—there is a ‘random hill’ feature on the treadmill.

F)     I’m too old—the videos showed others my age completing the course.

G)    I’m too fat—this only works if you’re fat and not fit.

H)    I’m scared—yes! This one was the one that had to work for me.

That last one would have worked for me. Honestly, the voices in my head of self-doubt were so strong that I had myself convinced that there was no way in the world that I would make it to the race. The thought of letting everyone down was not devastating enough for me to muster up the mental fortitude that I needed in order to get over the hurdle—figuratively AND metaphorically.

On Friday, the day before the race, I walked into The Training Zone to get in a final workout before the race. The whole way down there I was thinking of the right words to use with my trainers to let them down (gently) by telling them I couldn’t do the race. Terror won. I lost.

Driving into the parking lot felt very familiar and set me in a mental place that I don’t find anywhere else but there. As I began to walk the steps towards the gym, I noticed that my posture improved and my mind began to clear itself of the self-doubting voices that kept me from embracing the challenge I was about to embark upon. And then I walked into the gym…

Trevor was sitting at the front desk. He lifted his head and when he saw that it was me, the broadest smile came across his face and through his eyes. It was at that precise moment that I felt all of the fear leave my body. I am going to explain a little here in the best way I know how. Trevor is like that pair of cleats that you wore as a child that always fit just right, never pinching your toes or giving you blisters in your heal. He is like the softball glove my brother bought me when I was a child—well loved and never let me down. He is like that book on your shelf that no matter what you are going through, you can walk up to it, open it to any page, and a passage from that page will make everything in your life make sense. That’s who Trevor is and I had him all to myself as I spilled my guts about everything I feared about the race.

It only took him a few minutes to convince me that not only was I invincible and well-prepared, but more importantly, that this race had nothing to do with time and everything to do with completion; he said, “You are not competing against anyone, Lori. We are all doing this for you so we will be by your side the entire time.”

Poof. It was like he sprayed from a magic can and my fear was gone. Minutes later, as if Trevor had pushed the imaginary panic button underneath the front desk, Sean walks in and immediately hugs me and asked me if I was ready for the race. For the record, I have no idea if there’s a panic button underneath the front desk. For the record, crazy, insecure women like me are the reason why all gyms should have panic buttons underneath the front desk!

I went home from The Training Zone without getting in a workout. The thing about this place is that sometimes all I need to do is walk in to center my soul. When my life is in disarray and nothing or no one can fix it, I know to go there. I was ready to take on the world when I walked out the door.

Then I realized that I didn’t have anything to wear…

On Bacon In My Pockets, Talking Dogs, and Hitting a MAJOR Milestone...

September 6, 2013

BEAST Mode Day 85: Last night before I went to bed I said a little prayer that I would wake up 50 pounds thinner. I began to pray, “Dear God, you know how much it would mean to me if you just tip the scale in my direction tomorrow morning. And while you’re at it, give me a little over 50 just to make it seem like I worked REALLY hard this week.”

I slept like a baby last night. I had a dream that I was running a marathon in the streets of Mexico and there were hundreds of stray dogs following me because they thought I had bacon in my pockets. One of the dogs asked me to slow down because I was running too fast for them and they had not eaten all day. I was so excited that a dog was talking to me. I was so excited that I was running faster than dogs! Those two factors made it perfectly clear to me that it was all a dream—the bacon-in-my-pocket part of the dream didn’t really phase me because I probably have done that dozens of times.

I ignored the call of my alarm the first time and slipped back into sweet, much-needed slumber.

Waking up on Fridays is bittersweet; it is WEIGH DAY, the moment of truth when I get on the scale and see the progress for the week. I anticipated this week’s WEIGH DAY about as much as a child anticipates opening up presents on Christmas morning because my first (what I believed to be) insurmountable target was on the horizon...the 50 pound mark!

This is the part where I vividly describe the way in which I stretched like a lazy cat before getting out of bed; where I describe the sensation of my bare feet hitting the wooden floor for the first time of the day; where I describe the anticipation that was building up as I walked into my bathroom, positioned my scale, waited for it to get to 0.0, and stepped on; where I describe how I exhaled as hard as my lungs would let me because in my head, my breath carries weight with it; where I describe the joy in my heart when I look down and see that number staring back at me in bold, red brightness. But I won’t bore you with all those details.

Two hundred and eighty four pounds was the goal to hit this week in order to hit the 50-pound weight loss goal. When I looked down and saw that the scale read 282.6, it took everything in my core not to begin singing Eye of the Tiger and high-fiving my image in the mirror! I COULD NOT BELIEVE IT! I hit the goal, and then some, achieving a total of nearly 52 POUNDS!

Truth be told, I became extremely emotional. I slowly bent down to put the scale away and said a little prayer of thanks to Creator for every person who has stood by me while on this journey…

For my husband, Juanito, whose unwavering support I can always rely on. He is the one who listens to my bones crack in the morning and who hears the stories about why my muscles ache after a workout. He is the one who watches me eats food he can’t even pronounce without ever suggesting that I eat the same meals the family is eating. For shouldering the responsibility of the household because his wife is out walking her boon off or sweating in BEAST Mode at the gym, and never, ever telling me that I shouldn't be on this journey.

For my children, who have never once asked me why I spend time away from them working out or walking in the neighborhood. Who join me on walks to the park, do sit-ups with me on the couch, and eat my Greek yogurt before I can get to it all. I don’t know what I would do if one of them told me that they consider my journey to be a selfish act.

For my family. For my mother who has stopped offering me enchiladas and refried beans, but who now sends me home with bags of fruits and veggies and dry beans to cook at home. For not telling me that I am crazy for leaving my family every time I work out. For my sissy, Claudia, who always encourages me to jog just a little more, to eat healthy snacks, and who stopped inviting me to Cozy Corner for my corn dogs and fries! For my sister, Marissa, who every time she sees me tells me how good I look and reminds me that I have to eat in a way that is maintainable for the rest of my life—she grounds me! For my brothers for understanding that it may have taken me a very, very long time to find the motivation to finally begin this journey—and for never once criticizing me for being on it!

For my co-workers, who watched me go from chilli cheese fries and a cheeseburger for lunch to a variety of healthy meals instead. For telling me that donuts are the devil and not putting them out in the open where I could steal them.

For my core ladies both near and far, who continue to find ways to lift me up and motivate me to keep going on this journey. For posting on my Facebook wall or commenting on my status updates how the changes I have made in my life are helping them in some way. Little do you know that it is YOU who help me!

For Sean and Trevor at TZone Fitness, who work me to the point of delirium. For Sean, who from the first moment I walked into the gym has always called me a “champ” and has always told me that I could do ANYTHING…and proves it to me by making me try EVERYTHING! For believing that this fat girl who feared exercise would learn to love boxing gloves and interval training. For Trevor who is always a beacon of support when I see him at TZone. For taking care of me when I walk in and don’t find Sean there. For never letting me walk on the treadmill without at least a level 10 incline (boy does that burn the next day!).

For Joe, the man who refuses to take credit for any of this. For kickstarting this journey with a public challenge. For offering to train me only needing “a line in the ground.” For congratulating me on what I am doing right, calling me on what I am not doing so right, and for holding my hand every step of the way. For shouting “hard work…dedication” when all I want to do is cry from exhaustion. For accepting my text every Friday morning after I weigh in, and responding with positivity even on weeks when I only lose 4 OUNCES! You insist I owe you nothing. This holds as much truth as a hundred stray dogs running behind me in the streets of Mexico because I have bacon in my pockets. Thank you for teaching me to believe in ME!

I have so many more people to thank, but then it would sound as if this journey has come to an end. We are so far from that point. We have many miles to go and many more pounds to lose before my body is healthy, but we will get there!

Life is good.   

On Food Addiction and Cheat Meals: Confessions of a Fat, Angry, Food Addict

08/19/13

Today is BEAST Mode Day 67.

It has been a mighty long time since I have been at the keyboard to write in this blog. I have been so busy living and enjoying this epic journey that I don’t make the time to sit and reflect on how much has changed in my life. But this blog is not about exercise. It’s not about how much weight I have lost or how many miles I can walk now without feeling like I want to carry a scooter on my back or jets at my heels. This post is on addiction: in particular, food addiction.

I am pretty sure at some point in my life I have heard the term “food addict” being used around me or whispered behind my back. After all, I had to have learned the term from somewhere, right?

In my mind, an addict is someone who can’t stay away from the crack pipe. An addict is someone who can’t walk or drive past a bar without feeling the need to stop and sneak one in before going home. An addict is someone who can’t be trusted near a casino because paychecks will be gambled away. Those are all definitions of addicts. Food addiction…how could it be something real if we NEED food to survive?

The first indication that I am a food addict didn’t come to me by looking in the mirror. I remember so vividly when the light bulb went off in my head. Twelve years ago I was on my way home from work and before getting on the freeway, I called my mom to ask her what she had made for dinner. She let me know that she made enchiladas and rice and invited me over. This has always been one of my favorite meals! You would think this would have been enough to get me on the freeway and en route to my mother’s house. Nope. Before getting on the freeway, I went through the drive-thru of Del Taco and ordered two plain quesadillas, two small fries (one for each quesadilla), and two sodas—so the attendant at the drive-thru would think I was ordering for two people instead of pigging out in the parking lot by myself. This wasn’t the first time it happened, and it certainly wasn’t the last time that it happened.

Fast forward twelve years and the behavior has not changed. I had gastric bypass. I lost two hundred pounds. My addiction to food was not cured—it was only curbed for as long as it took me to learn how to cut a cheeseburger into a million little pieces so it wouldn’t get stuck in my stomach. I was a champ! Before I knew it, I was able to have a burger, fries, and a shake again! And then I graduated to Subway 12 inch subs because they were “healthier” for me. Let’s not forget the bag of chips and soda to wash it all down.

Forget about cheat meals…I was living a cheat LIFE!

I have no respect for the word “moderation” when it comes to food; I love food and the satisfaction it gives me to eat it. But does that make me an addict? Absolutely!

There have been a lot of people who have offered opinions on how I should eat while on this journey; some offer recipes for shakes and smoothies, while others offer great Pinterest links to food I can prepare in a healthy way and still enjoy. It makes me happy to be able to take this advice and apply it to my life. The competitor in me takes the recipe and adds a twist to make it my own (and in my head it is always better…lol).

My favorite advice (insert sarcastic, eye rolling image here) is the well-meaning, yet highly misguided, advice to go ahead and reward myself with a cheat meal. In all fairness to the person giving this advice, they may not know that I am a food addict. After all, this physique may have been achieved by something other than overconsumption of the wrong foods, right? WRONG!

In the interest of full disclosure, please allow me to state that I LOSE MY SHIT WHEN I AM TOLD TO HAVE A CHEAT MEAL. When I hear someone say to me, “You should still eat the foods you love, just eat them in moderation,” I want to run into a lane of oncoming traffic. When someone says to me, “You should reward yourself with your favorite meal when you reach a weight loss milestone,” I want to shave my head and ask for a padded cell. When someone says to me, “You can’t give up everything you love because you’ll just end up going back and eating too much of it,” I want to pull up my shirt and show them the foot-long scar on my stomach from the first time I (unsuccessfully) attempted to control this addiction.

Consider this a public service announcement. Consider this a blog post from an angry, fat, food addict who is asking for help staying away from food—not for help finding ways to go back to my old self. Consider this—the first two weeks on this journey were spent hating myself and the way my body was reacting to the detoxification. I was going through withdraws. I hated everyone around me who still ate fries. I couldn’t turn on Facebook without seeing the foods I loved taking up my newsfeed. I was in an ugly place and everyone around me suffered for it.

I don’t want to go back there…ever. I am in a place on this journey in which I can share a table with someone eating fries or fried food and I have no desire to reach over the table and share (steal) the meal with them. It is a good place to be, but by no means is it easy—it just gets easier. I love being able to say no to dessert and mean it! I love being able to come up with different recipes that keep me on track. This, also, is not easy—it just gets easier.

So for all of you food addicts out there (you don’t need to raise your hands and admit to anything), just know that getting healthy and making healthy choices is not easy—it just gets easier. And for all of you out there who live with food addicts or who have food addicts in your inner circle, no matter how well intentioned you are (and I believe this to be the case ALWAYS), do not tell a food addict that it is perfectly ok to have a cheat meal. You wouldn’t tell a heroin addict in recovery that it’s ok to pick up the needle again as a reward, would you?

Phew…I feel like a big weight has just been lifted. I have been wanting to get this out for so long. I can now go back to the lighter posts that tell of my adventures while hitting the pavement or hitting my trainer’s gloves.

Life is good.