So who was it that tried to convince me that 50 was old and no longer sexy?
Who decided that grey hair was unattractive and we needed to dye our hair all the time and damage it even more?
What bozo tried to convince us that we need plastic filled faces to eliminate wrinkles so we can hide the years of happiness carved into our eyes and stop us from smiling genuinely?
Who said Boomers can’t do what they used to? Because I’ve become better as each decade has passed.
This week I enter the 51st year of my life… and I’m not hiding it, lying about my age or what I choose to do in it.
You can diet, starve, gorge, exercise, couch potato like a pro, you can knit a pot holder at Burning Man, kick back as many drinks as you want (so long as it’s lactose free), and hold any opinion you want because it’s backed by personal experience so long as you’re a Gen Xer surviving. We are the children of Boomers and hippies. We are the parents of Millennials. If you’re in your 50’s you can do what you want. I’m doing what I want… and I really don’t care what YOU think about it.
I really don’t care if you think I’m fat or slow or weak or old or ugly. I feel pity for you if you don’t recognize my value and just focus on totally unimportant characteristics. I really don’t care if you think my political views are wrong. I voted. End of story. Move on. I’ll turn up the volume to my car stereo and sing melody, harmony and back up vocals to Bohemian Rhapsody. I don’t care because you are not Simon Cowell. I’ve learned that every criticism you have of me tells me soooooo much about you. That’s wisdom right there. I’m liking it but it’s a double edged sword.
I’m pretty happy where I am in my own skin. I am amazed at the sudden wisdom and insight I have now… especially gained over this year. I remember as a kid opening up Cracker Jack boxes hoping I would finally get the ex ray glasses so I could see through things and be prepared for everything hiding out to get me. I now marvel in enlightenment as I can now see right through people… but now see how empty, sad, unfulfilled, envious, ignorant, codependent, narcissistic, materialistic, angry, neglected, rejected and confused they are… and I want to give my glasses back. I’ve been there. I was in each of those phases and didn’t enjoy them one bit. But I made it look good to others and convinced myself that it was a good thing for me to be like that.
But it’s true. With age comes wisdom and when you know better, you do better.
AND HONESTLY I CANNOT WAIT TO GROW YOUNGER NOW. I’m 51. Fifty freaking one!!!!
My baby brother lived to the age of 38. My grandmother and namesake lived to be 45. How incredibly blessed am I to have these days that they were never able to.
I cried when I turned 30 because I thought I was old. I laughed when I turned 50 because I realized my life is just now becoming my own!
Did you grow up watching all those cheesy holiday claymation movies they air on TV every year? Even worse, over the years, did it secretly become your guilty obsession and now look forward to watching them? *ya, me too!
So if you’re anything like me and life has thrown an obstacle in front of your training and had to find yourself starting over again, you’ve probably felt like I did… like the Winter Warlock!!!!
Here I am… a year without new bling on my medal rack, 40 pounds up, rickety rackety, going clickety clackety, and with every single excuse in the book just chomping at the bit to be used. And then I thought to myself… wow Myssie, you vain, selfish, plastic, immature girl! What is this? A midlife meltdown??? DID YOU FORGET YOUR WHY????
Holy cow did that wake me up!
Ok, so yes, I got injured. That’s not an excuse – it’s a legit reason to stop and heal. But look at Alex – she was jackknifed in her car and her femur broke. A year later, she’s not letting that stop her. She’s out jogging on the trail with her new fiance. Look at Angela – she had a full knee replacement and SHE invited YOU to a spin class??? What happened to the Myssie I knew and loved? Why is she sitting there quietly behind a computer screen purposely avoiding workouts by over working herself in real estate???
*If you haven’t already figured this out… my inner sarcastic mean voice has taken over my finger tips and is now typing away and letting you in on our inner conversations. Be careful because she’s a feisty one!!! Just get out of her way and let her speak her peace.
See, the Myssie I knew… the Myssie we all grew to know over the last few years told us that she’d never stop so long as she could continue…. what happened? What happened to that promise? And why are you so worried about what you look like now? Good lord we’ve seen you dripping wet sweaty in a spandex trisuit alongside uber fit 20-somethings… you seriously can’t look any worse than that flabalanche that was posted all over the interwebs!!! Get over yourself. Suck it up buttercup. Get back on the saddle and just be the best you that you can be. Your weight yoyos. So what? There’s photographic evidence that you’ve been hot before. There’s pics of you with double chins, lonjas and arm flab. So what? Dude, you’re alive. You can smile. You have health, family, love, friends and you are so blessed. Seriously, did you forget your why?
wow
Sometimes my inner voice can be brutally spot on
So, yeah… I just woke up one morning and decided to make the decision again. And here I am. Old, fat, jiggly, determined and remembering my why. Regretting how stupidly vain and insecure I’ve been. And before I knew it, with the Cure blasting in my ear buds, I had jogged 2 miles along the same trail that got me started in 2011.
I reached out for support since I knew that’s how I succeeded before. Unfortunately, too many others out there are like me, too, and Team in Training is no longer. It doesn’t take much to have excuses tempt us to stay away from a commitment to self improvement… especially if it’s hard work and easier to eat tacos or drink margaritas or watch This is Us.
So this is it. It’s time to be my own hero. I remember.
I’ve been much quieter about my goals and my actions. I don’t post my run times, workouts, pace or distance on social media anymore because I’ve learned now that there are people in this world who do not see this as inspiration but as either something to be jealous of or looked down on. It invites comparison. And comparison is the thief of joy. I remember my bike guru telling me something like this years ago but I guess I hadn’t truly understood the wisdom behind his words at the time. So, I invite others to come do whatever with me. I go at their pace, not mine… just so long as I can get these old bones moving. I know my body and my capabilities and know better than to jump into a group way over my capacity… but I’ll get there again… some day… soon.
Because I remember
I remember, I need to live on in her honor
I remember, I need to finish what she started
I remember, I have a family, too, that needs me
I remember, I have a lot to prove… to myself, to her, to the world
I remember, she was so awesome
Along with the workouts… I took on a much bigger challenge of hers, too. I went back into real estate just like her. But not like I did three years ago as a team leader. I went full monty. Totally humbled myself and went straight to the bottom to work myself up just so that I could know that I was able to accomplish everything on my own the way she taught me. Real estate is a brutal dog-eat-dog industry mostly made of wealthy thick skinned stubborn people set in their ways (ok, not all but the majority of those considered “successful”)… and then there’s me, because of her. And in the same way I went from couch to 5k to marathon, I went from beginner sales to… well, beginner sales 🙂 hahahaha
Perspective and humility have become my secret weapon.
Good old fashioned hard work daily with one day of “long runs” weekly… and after a couple of years, you’re in the marathon. That’s all this is… it’s a marathon journey. Whether running or real estate, money, love, spirituality, education, family, whatever… you can switch the goal every second of the day, so long as you consistently do the hard work daily, be grateful for the ability to do your best, honor and recognize your cheerleaders and sponsors and organizers and fellow team mates (because we’re all running the race together) and listen to your coach, you’ll find beer at the finish line and a new race the next day. Don’t stop. Don’t forget.
Just put one foot in front of the other and never forget your why.
That first step is always the hardest… but it gets better. Trust me, you’ll never go anywhere without it.
I started this blog to share candid experiences of my personal journey with cancer and how I used marathons and triathlons as my soap box for awareness and a toolbox for fundraising. What I didn’t expect coming was the impact both would have inside of me… my soul.
So let’s talk first about FAILURE. Sure I entered my first marathon thinking that if I could show God how much I was sacrificing and how hard I was pushing myself to run TWENTY SIX POINT TWO miles that He would spare my Momma’s life and cure her cancer and all would be back to normal. Well, that didn’t work out the way I planned, huh?
Three full marathons, seven half marathons, thirteen triathlons, lost count of all the 5ks and 10ks and still… three DNFs
FAILURE
I was made fun of. I could have stayed quiet about it all and avoided the whole thing and the humiliation that came with it but I gave myself rules from the beginning and I did my best to stick to them:
No complaining. I had no right since I knew Momma had gone through so much – cancer treatment, surgeries, expenses, the loss of her sister and the loss of her only son. I had no right to complain.
Be vulnerable and honest. If I was going to put it out there, I was going to go all out so that others could connect, understand, share, help and get the conversation and ultimately the movement of human compassion started.
Never ever give up. This was the most difficult. Since I was never an athlete, it was hard for me to gauge the difference between soreness and injury. Not allowing myself to heal correctly and pushing myself because of my determination was the perfect combination for muscle injury. When all the progress I made was thrown out the window because of my stubborn stupidity, it was humiliating and humbling to find myself right back at square one… overweight and out of shape.
Oh but not all was failure. I did something pretty amazing. I did something that so many people never thought I could do… including myself. I accomplished physical feats that few attempt because of fear of failure. I accomplished getting a community to give of themselves for others so that a dollar here and a thousand dollars there could help someone in need… and we never even had to know who that person was. It was only important that they got a chance to live longer, happier, and healthier even if just for a moment. I accomplished a conversation that continues today… and important one. One that changed the way we treat, cure and charge for those services. I was a part of it. I did not sit on the sidelines of life. I was a part of this movement. It was just a little bit but it was MY bit and although it may not have been much, it gave me purpose, helped others and showed my children the example that my mother showed me.
The entire journey, I referenced God and angels and miracles and “signs” on a daily basis but something was missing. A connection was still missing… no no no… correction…
The connection was always there… I was just too blind to see it.
I knew what I needed to do. I always knew. I think all of you did, too. So this weekend it happened.
I attended the same retreat that my mother attended that set her soul on fire and strengthened her faith like no other I’ve ever met. That hand sign I throw at races was the hand sign she threw at me when she returned from her retreat. It means “I love you” in American sign language. It was an ACTS retreat and although I didn’t not attend it at the Shrine the way she did, I was able to attend it at my home church with the Priest that raised me and 71 other women whom were all strangely and purposefully meant to be with me this weekend.
Crossing the finish line of my first full marathon, witnessing my son graduate and choose to serve his country, giving birth, marrying the love of my life, winning my first crown, experiencing my first kiss… these life moments now have a new addition to my collection of favorite life memories. ACTS is officially a part of this collection.
The journey that this blog is based on began in 2011. But this week marks my true beginning. I now have all three “sports” in my line up and fully intend to workout each – MIND BODY & SOUL – to become the ultimate triathlete, the one He always intended for me to become.
And now, most importantly of all… I have mentioned “I” a whole bunch in this post. None of it was done alone by just “I”. From the very, very beginning there was my FAMILY, there was our team of DOCTORS AND MEDICAL STAFF, there was TEAM IN TRAINING and THE LEUKEMIA AND LYMPHOMA SOCIETY and THE AMERICAN CANCER SOCIETY, there was the incredibly long list of SPONSORS, DONORS and VOLUNTEERS, there were numerous RUN GROUPS, COACHES, and TEAMMATES, CO-WORKERS, and seriously freaking awesome FRIENDS who joined me, there were my SONS and my HUSBAND and my FATHER who joined me in training or 5ks or followed me at my 2nd full marathon or helped throw orange paint at the Color Dash, and then there were 71 SISTERS IN CHRIST and HIM who never left my side… ever.
I’ve said it from the beginning… this was never just about me. This has always been about something much bigger… way bigger than just me.
As each phase in this journey has evolved, peaked and molded my life, I have seen the world of cancer change, my personal health change and that of my community, too, and ultimately the love of my family, friends and yes, my spirituality change immensely.
And for all of this… I thank you. So here I go again…a little quieter, a bit more purposeful and a whole lot stronger. I invite you to join me if you are also ready to get over that fear, too.
That moment you are forced to recon with the realization that AFTER your first ride back on the saddle, you forgot to use Butt Butter. Lesson learned 🙂
MY BUTT HURTS!!! My legs hurt! My back hurts! My shoulders hurt! My feet hurt! My tummy hurts! Even my dang earlobes hurt!!!! Can you tell I have re-entered my training program after a long, long, long, looooooonnnnngggg hiatus?
Honestly, it is so much harder to get back into training seriously after you’ve stopped the habit for so long. I will admit though… I do feel stronger. Maybe my body really did need a break to heal. Maybe, just maybe, this is a good thing.
This week, I went back to my roots. I did so because clearly the way I approached my health and fitness patterns worked the first time. Why wouldn’t they work this time, right?
I ran this week exactly like the very first time I ran. I went in the evening at sundown (so no one would be able to see and recognize me and judge me on how fat I had become or sloth-like slow) and began with a brisk walk for two blocks. After that, I jogged at a comfortable pace – withOUT my Garmin or runkeeper or Nike+ on – for as long as I could manage before I felt that my heart would beat too fast and/or my body would collapse… and then went just a bit further… you know, just to push myself and not feel too comfortable. Then I walked a good length until I balanced out my heart rate and ran to the next light pole. I ran. Not jogged comfortably. I ran. Then brisk walked to the next light pole. Then ran again and so on and so forth. I did six miles like this. It took me longer than I expected but I did it and surprisingly… I really missed this in my life.
That’s been the farthest I’ve been able to do since my “episode” earlier this Spring.
My legs were so sore that night. When I cuddled under the covers in bed that evening to sleep, I couldn’t bare the pain. I took an ibuprofen in the middle of the night. Felt better and secretly wondered if some of that pain was actually cellulite being destroyed. He he he… I’ll take it if that’s what it means. 🙂
I wore flats the next day to work. Humbled and a bit ashamed of how out of shape I quickly became over the last few months. I have so much work to do on myself!!! But I know I can do it.
Following day: Stretch, yoga, plyometrics, the realization that I should never, ever, ever, ever stop being physically active. Ok, THAT was tough!
Today: I joined up with the Bicycle World Saturday morning ride. It is a casual 30-mile ride designed to be ridden for enjoyment at a comfortable pace. Ha! It may have been everyone else’s “recovery ride” for the week but this chick was putting everything she had into it trying to keep up with the gang. Shortly after the halfway marker, I bonked. I know I was dragging the whole group down with me. And I was super embarrassed about it.
I noticed goosebumps on my leg. I had been drinking water but now that I’m more attuned to the way my body communicates with me, I knew it was signaling a request for electrolytes and hydration. I asked the group to pull into the next closest convenience store to pick up some cool Gatorade. They graciously stopped the ride to tend to my goosebumps. Seriously, cyclists are the nicest people ever.
Have you ever tried to interrupt someone during a crossfit workout? You’d get your lights punched out for that if you took seconds away from their time. But a cyclist, nu-uh. They understand the importance of the pack and what each individual needs because ultimately on rides like these in this area, we are better together. All I needed was some Gatorade.
And coffee
Ok, so it is what it is. I’ve never ridden with this group before for a few reasons… probably the most important reason was that there wasn’t a coffee shop along the ride course nor was there a coffee shop at the end of the ride.
The riders in the new group – whom I’ve never met before today – also obliged me with a cup of coffee at Moonbeans and some great conversation after the ride. Have I mentioned how friendly cyclists are???? I have? Ok, just making sure.
All in all… it’s been a great comeback week. I’ve tried to come back before and I think I pushed myself the wrong way, had the wrong motivation and/or didn’t have enough motivation or support or accountability. I had been seduced by old bad habits and excuses up the wazoo. I was mentally weak, spiritually lost and physically exhausted. I now feel stronger in all these aspects. I think it shows, too.
Eh. Maybe it was all good. Maybe my body needed the rest. Maybe I needed to really miss this part of my life so much that it took something like this week to bring it all back to me the right way.
Whatever the reason, I’m glad it happened. It feels great to be back! The soreness will eventually give way to smile in my heart.
Confession: While in my late teens and early twenties, I stuffed my bras, wore push up bras and mastered the art of duct tape under a swim suit in order to win the swimsuit division in the pageants that I entered.
Now in present day, I struggle trying to keep the girls squished down enough so I can fit into my wet suit! Super duper powerful sports bras laugh in my face when shown the challenge I must endure. I have now accepted the doomed fate of side boobage for the time being. The Big Guy upstairs has a wicked sense of humor. I know… I know… that’s what I get.
We always want what we can’t have.
Exactly four weekends from this one, I will be at the Memorial Hermann Ironman 70.3 in Galveston, Texas. I am, once again, out of my league at this race. So why do it?
Because I said I would.
Because I know if I convince myself that if I wait until I get better, faster, leaner, etc… I can still continue to tell myself that I can get better, faster, leaner, etc… and I’ll be waiting forever. Honestly, that’s called procrastination.
Because I know that if I surround myself with people who do things better than I do, I’ll learn from them how to do things better and I’ll become a better person for it.
Because I no longer care what the nay-sayers say. This is MY goal. This is MY promise. Not theirs.
Because I don’t care how fast or slow I go or what I look like.
Because I know that if I go out there and do the best that I possibly can do, I will know I did my best regardless of whether or not I finished first or finished last or anywhere in between or DNF’d… I wasn’t that spectator wondering if I could do it, or do it better than that other person or do it better than the last time I did this… I would know because I went and did it. And if I end up DNFing, I’ll just get up and do it again until I get where I want to be.
Because I won’t give up that easily.
What I DO know is that IF I finish, I will do so with very little time to spare. One month away, I will admit that my endurance and my time is not near what I would like myself to be at. Work, family, stress and duties of life have all taken priority over my workouts. Life still hasn’t given me a break and I need to realize that it never will. My schedule is so erratic that 90% of my workouts are by myself and I’m not exactly my own best motivator. Because I’ve been trying to lose weight, I’ve found that my nutrition hasn’t been at it’s optimum and have found myself questioning whether my choice to be a natural, organic athlete is the best choice at this point. I can now see why so many top athletes eat nothing but powered, “all natural” chemicals for breakfast, lunch and supper.
I knew this would be difficult. I knew it. And I made the choice to do it anyway. I CANNOT GIVE UP.
I’m down almost twenty pounds. I’m also down almost a full minute on my swim pace from this time last year. I received a new long sleeved Team in Training wet suit and tried it out for the first time last weekend with some very experienced Ironman finishers out in the waters of South Padre Island. I struggled even with the first 500 meters. I’m not very gifted with upper body strength so pulling through the choppy waves with long sleeves got to me quickly. Just to be safe and not have to worry about this additional pressure, I believe I’m going to revert back to my old wetsuit that is sleeveless… just in case.
My long runs have been inconsistent with equal parts great runs and horrible attempts. My cycling is still a mystery. I had planned on joining Team McAllen’s “Stations of the Cross” ride today at the San Juan Basilica and take my long ride with them along Military Highway and then jump off to do another few loops but storms rolled in and I was reduced back to my trainer. Fortunately, a new, extremely challenging course was introduced on Zwift (my virtual cycling training program) and it kicked my patootie!!! I swear I was pushing 2 mph up the mountain for about 45 minutes!!! Longest miles ever!!! But cycling down the mountain at my top speed of 60 mph was electrifying!!
I did notice on my ride today that I need to be refitted. I bought a replacement saddle a while back ago and tried to install it myself. I don’t think I did a good job. My knees are bent too much through the entire rotation and I can’t seem to feel balanced in any other position other than aero. And even in aero position, I feel like I’m too far away from my bars to be completely in proper aero position.
To prepare for my run, I went back to Valley Running Company to see if I could entertain going back to Saucony since they have this season’s kicks in orange! To no avail, my run stance still has not been corrected and I immediately felt my hip trigger just during the sampling of the shoes. The pains that I feel now during my run are scary and heartbreaking. I feel like a drug addict desperately trying to get the feeling back from that first awesome run a few years ago. I don’t mind the pain of exhaustion. But I am now quite frightful of the pain of permanent injury. I pray I never lose control of my pride and ego long enough to endanger the ability to be active for the rest of my life.
Tomorrow, I will not be participating in Stanley’s triathlon. This is the first sprint tri of the season here in South Texas. This is the event that started me off in the sport of triathlon. Stanley’s triathlon was created by my bike guru who also cherishes his mother and honors a charity near to both of their hearts, Guiding Eyes For The Blind. Part of what is raised at this event goes to fund seeing eye dogs for people who have lost their eyesight. I think this is something that isn’t talked about or recognized enough…the REASON why we TRI are many times for people other than ourselves. This is what makes triathletes so awesome. To have the dedication to endure so much pain during training and events must mean that the passion that fuels this is from the adoration of another.
My son taught me how to swim a mere 10 weeks before the event and Coach Sandy Overly continued to steer me in all the right directions for the entire year afterwards. I’ve competed in this annual event every year since 2012… except this one. I will be volunteering though. I will be at the finish line awarding the medals to all the phenomenal local triathletes, new and experienced.
And I can’t wait to see the smiles on their faces after their grand accomplishment!!
I haven’t had time to post this week. Soo busy!!! Considering this is taper week, you’d think I’d have a little extra time but it’s also the first week of school for my little and a busy week at work and as always… New adventures!!!
Last weekend though I made it out to the beach for a mini TRI with open water swim. I felt good. Strong. Both physically and mentally.
The swim in the bay was picture perfect! The water was like glass but was so stagnant, murky and extra salty!!! My head was on straight and I’m proud of myself for beating my demons. I didn’t allow for anything to take me off focus.
I showed up. Did what I needed to do. And that’s it. All business!!!
The bike was wow!!! Again, it was like Mimi was ready to go play. We kept a good pace — not like I was going full blast but it was a really good ride. Just as I made it to the turn around, I noticed a shell on the side of the road. I looped around again and HAD to pick it up.
It was a sand dollar.
It was broken around the outside and stained as if it had been run over and gone through some messes.
It was a little bit like me.
I grew up on the island as a kid. Momma and Dad would walk with me along the beach to collect sand dollars. So ya… That was my sign.
She was with me.
My life is coming back together again — and she’s not here but she is.
RunMyssieRun 