Tag Archives: exercise

Waging War with the Frenemy Within

This year hasn’t been an easy one.

Before I go on, I’ll preface with this: I’m blessed. I am nearly miraculously blessed. I am living one-in-a-million odds in many ways, from my family’s continued (or newly re-begun) health to my arrival in a PhD program at age 24 to my stable, wonderful, soul-affirming relationship and its fast approaching trip down the aisle. I am blessed with two wonderful jobs (three, if you count side work and four if you count being a student) and while we are far from wealthy, there’s always some extra cash around for frozen yogurt, or a trip to the movies. I know I am blessed.

But this year has been really hard, even with those blessings in tow.

For even the most stable person, the beginnings of a PhD program are stressful. Coupled with my teaching college classes for the first time, preparing for my wedding, and trying to live my life on a budget — well, it’s kind of like having caffeine or kryptonite injected straight into my heart most of the time whenever I think about how much farther I still need to go to get to where I eventually want to be. I try to take things day by day; I try to focus on the moment. And sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn’t, and always I have a fresh slate in the morning upon which to try again.

I am — some of you may know — a person who lives with depression and anxiety. Not the fidgety-ness that many folks blame their inadequacies on… rather, the kind that grips my whole body and whole brain and makes it hard for me to feel, do, or grasp anything. For the past several years, this problem has been under control. I don’t require medication; I use a variety of mental and behavioral coping techniques that keep me in control of my own body, mind and life. This past school year has been really hard; this spring, I knew that my depression was skulking around in the back of my brain. I could sense it. As I’ve learned to do, though, I would not let it dictate a moment of my life.

Why am I telling you all this? Because I want you to know — whether you are a fellow WW-er or just an interested family member/friend or an adventurous cook or maybe you’ve even just stumbled upon my blog by accident — I want you to know that the best thing I ever did for myself was begin to take charge of my health. Specifically, when I began to exercise more — and even more specifically, when I began to run — I found a new and powerful way to manage the things that make my life uncommonly hard.

Everyone who’s into fitness will tell you that working out releases those happy endorphins into the brain. I think that’s probably correct, except my endorphins never arrive until after the workout is over. That’s okay. I know that on bad days, if I can get myself to go for a good run, I will walk back up my basement steps feeling calmer and in control.

And “control” can be a double-edged sword, I know; wanting to “control” my body might sound like dangerous language to be using. It can be seen as the language of disordered eating, of body dimorphism, etc. — but for me, I promise, it is nothing so insidious. Taking charge of my health has allowed me to maintain the vessel that HOLDS my poor Brain; Brain, who, for me, works overtime every day — whose goal in life is to work beautifully and well. I am an academic and a scholar. If my mind isn’t on the right set of tracks, nothing is. And protecting my body has served my mind well. Having control over my daily routine and my health has allowed me to plow through the most difficult academic year of my life with aplomb so far.

There are days where teaching is overwhelming. There’s a line in an Ani Difranco song — something like, “No one asked me if I wanted to be everything to someone.” I’m not “everything” to my students — but the responsibility of answering their never-ending emails, guiding them, teaching them and being a mentor and authority figure is SO MUCH HARDER THAN I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE.

There are days when my coursework is too much. Independent study, coupled with a psychotic history class experience that has forever soured me on branching out from my department — blah. I am drained most days just by the struggle to keep up.

There are days when the future is TERRIFYING: the job hunt in the awful academic market, the baby that Chelsea and I will struggle to add to our family,  the difficulties of paying for school and paying for life on grad student salaries, wondering if our marriage will ever be legal in PA or if I’ll have to live a state away forever, wondering if everyone I love will stay healthy, wondering if I will stay healthy…

My brain latches onto all these things and can’t let go. I get stuck. I get overwhelmed. For the past several months, though, I’ve found a temporary re-balancing cure: I go for a run; I take care of my body, so it can take care of my mind.

By eating enough nutrients — through foods like kale, berries, etc. — I have avoided being ill for most of the winter and spring. This is new for me; I’m usually decrepit by now.

By exercising, I’ve boosted my weight loss and my self-confidence. I’ve also, interestingly, boosted my comfort. For those of you who have never been overweight at all — you can’t really imagine how uncomfortable it is to carry extra weight around. Not when walking, etc. but moreso when there’s no type of clothes that are wholly loose and cozy. Moreso when there’s no way you can lay where you don’t get in your own way. Moreso when you feel like you just have too much space that you’re occupying and you wish it were different. Roughly 18 lbs down, and my cozy clothes swim on me. My couch feels comfier. I think less about moving my body around obstacles it faces during the day. I am comfortable.

By getting enough sleep, I’ve given myself the energy and stamina to tackle the above two things.

By mindfully tracking points and never giving myself the ability to make excuses, the plan continues to work for me. It might seem to you, readers, that I lose slowly — but at 5’3, if I lost more quickly, there’d be major problems.

All in all, this wellness journey hasn’t just healed my body (or hasn’t started to heal my body, I guess I should say, since I’ve got 35 lbs to go) — it has helped to heal my mind. Who knew these changes in lifestyle would heal something that pharmaceuticals struggled to manage?

I’ll end with a little anecdote.

Yesterday, I was sitting on my bed and getting increasingly anxious and frustrated about how much work is left in this semester — particularly because one of my professors has continually made life difficult. I started thinking about how busy this week will be, and about how I don’t have my usual day off on Friday and won’t be able to run, and about how we have company coming this weekend and what if I can’t run then, etc. etc. and my thoughts twisted and spiraled and wound around me like a vise. I got to a point that’s not unfamiliar to me: I felt like I couldn’t move. But instead of giving in to that anxiety, I asked myself this question: “Will you really feel better if you sit here?” The answer was no, and I knew it. Then, I asked myself, “Will you feel better if you run?” Stubbornly, I said, “I don’t know” (in my head, to myself). Through brute force — and those of you who have anxiety issues too will know the force it takes — I stood up and grabbed one of my workout tops from my closet. I flicked it at the bed and announced to Chelsea: “If I don’t go for my run, the anxiety wins. And it will not win today.” Off I went to the basement. It was a short run — 3.7 miles in 42 minutes, counting that 5-min walking warm-up — but I came back upstairs feeling better and feeling more in control. It changed the tone of my day and of my week.

Choices like the one I made yesterday? They have changed the tone of my life.

In short, I have begun to save myself from myself.

KNOW THY ENEMY, they say.

I’ll add: Yeah, know the enemy. And then, win.



Couch to 5K Update: Week 7

Um, Week 7 is SO not subtle.

Day 1: Run for 25 minutes.

Now, because I forced myself to do this back when they only asked me to run 20 minutes (I was intent on hitting that 2 mile marker, and at 5.0 24 minutes is needed for that), I was not too terrified.

I did it, and it was fine. At one point I did have to stop for about 23 seconds to hit buttons on the remote to start the next episode of The Office (we have the Wii hooked up in the basement which is how we’re streaming Netflix to that TV and I CHALLENGE you to use a Wii remote while still running), but I ran for an extra 1 minute at the end (so, 26 minutes total) to make up for it. I didn’t linger. I just had to wake up the remote and clickety-click.

As I’m running the full 26, I find that I get a little bit restless but I think that’s only because I have gotten so used to the time being broken up into smaller increments — it’s not because I’m TIRED or DYING. But it’s hard to figure out how to deal with the restlessness. I’m sure I’ll get used to it as time goes on. I find myself eying the clock too often. And again, it’s not because I’m too fatigued — I think I’m just too used to those distances being broken up.


I tell myself, The important thing isn’t whether or not you’re bored at times — the important thing is that you can (and HAVE) run more than two miles without stopping, now!


I tell myself, You will get used to this. Just like you got used to the broken-up times, you’ll get used to the all-at-once times.


I tell myself, You are seven whole weeks in, and going strong. An actual 5K run is within reaching distance.


I tell myself, Yanno, I’m really proud of you.

Couch to 5K Update: Week 6

I survived Week 5! And with zest and zeal, I might add.

So now, I’m on Week 6, which started with a pleasantly light run yesterday.

Rather than wax philosophical about the workout itself, I’ll instead tell you about what it did for me.

Guys, I’m stressed out.

I mean REALLY stressed out.

The type of stress that makes you teary, in need of hugs, and unable to answer simple questions about your day without seizing up and tensing and saying, literally, “I CAN’T.”

I am really, really worn thin at this point in the semester.

Thankfully, Chelsea and the cats are wonderful and so is my family, and so are my friends. But that doesn’t really make the days that much easier to force my way through, you know?Yesterday was a truly bad day. I felt like all my responsibilities were crashing down around me with the force of a typhoon — it gave the sense of there being no light at the end of the tunnel. Exhausted. Fatigued. Three cold sores. A fever. A bad day. I HAD HAD IT WITH MYSELF.

When I got home from my last leg of the day, Chelsea agreed to heat up supper (we were having leftover lentil soup) while I went for my run.

I went down into the basement defeated and withered after a crappy, brow-beating day.

I came back up after my run feeling relaxed, more in-control, relieved, and grateful for the chance to reconnect with my body BEYOND all the stress it’s been enduring.

Shock of shocks: I actually found comfort in my run, and not for the first time.

If you’d told me six weeks ago that by mid-March I’d find my daily run to be a comfort, I’d have laughed at you.

Perhaps I don’t know myself that well after all.

And perhaps that is a good thing.




I am currently gobbling down my lunch in the brief half hour I have between teaching and my pedagogy group meeting. I don’t like rushing through meals — it’s not ideal — but it is the only option. Not that a half hour is all that bad. I don’t mind, really. But sometimes I just want a breather, and I want to eat and relax for a little bit.

I’ve found that if I rush through eating something, it’s like I don’t even know that I ate it — my body and brain can’t sync up on what’s just happened. So Tuesday lunches kinda go down that way, which is frustrating.

Also frustrating? This weekend, my dad took us out to a nice Valentine’s Day dinner — everything was really delicious, but would have been even MORE delicious had I not been sick. Congestion limits my sense of taste by like, 60% and so I’m furious that I had my ‘cheat day’ where I ate and enjoyed, but enjoyed less than I would have if I were well. I feel the same way about times when I get cornered with bad foods and have no way out — for example, being at a party where there’s only pizza being served, etc. These days, I know I just gotta move through my days prepared, with a bag of snap peas or carrots and plenty of water. But there’s really a part of me that resents when 1) I don’t have control over my own choices, when I’m working on weight loss AND/OR 2) when I have to rush through eating and not even enjoy what I’m tasting AND/OR 3) when I am too sick or too tired to enjoy my eats.

I think the reason I feel this way is because so much of weight loss is coming to understand food as nourishment, and seeing eating as an act that — while often social — should serve a more practical purpose, and never an emotional one. So times when I eat because I “don’t want to seem rude” or am tired or am too sick to enjoy a high-PP treat… I get kind of discouraged.

Thankfully, that doesn’t happen often. I know ways to make sure I always have healthy snacks on hand. I do indulge on days when I’m willing and able to do so. I’ve been working out. I’ve been eating consciously, instead of mindlessly. So here’s hoping those trends continue.

Today, as I gobble up my lunch at warp speed, I am thankful that I can taste my yogurt and the flax seed I’ve put in it (it always tastes like graham crackers, to me) and that I can go for a run on my treadmill this evening because — wait for it, waaaait for it: I CAN FINALLY BREATHE THROUGH MY NOSE AGAIN.

…With the help of a breathing strip.

….About which I am only marginally embarrassed.