They Call it a Comfort Zone for a REASON!!!

I just want to discuss for a minute something in life that gets a bad rap...the comfort zone. Everyone is always encouraged to move out of their comfort zone into uncharted territory. Who the hell came up with THAT idea??? You almost feel like a worthless human being for actually staying in the comfort zone of your life. As if being "comfortable" is a sin.

They call it a "comfort zone" for a reason. It's comfortable. It's safe. It's easy to do. We're experts at the behavior necessary to stay firmly in the comfort zone. Ahh....the comfort zone.

As I was running this triathlon yesterday (yes, for those of you who know me well, we will discuss the use of the word "running" in a minute - no smirking) I started to get really ticked off at those "comfort zone" people. The people that promise personal fulfillment and a sense of overwhelming pride once the comfort zone is successfully breached. What a load of ----!!!!Halfway through this race...no wait...halfway through waiting for the race to start....no, actually the night before...I decided that I want to live, die, and be buried in my comfort zone. I don't know if St. Vincent de Paul cemetery has a "comfort zone" section, but I'm going to look into it pronto.

******************

Enter the Holy Spirit. Enter that little whisper of love from the Creator that tells me that He is not satisfied with my current state of health. That His love for me is so huge that it can pick me up and carry me unharmed out of the comfort zone into new life. I'm scared, Lord... I don't think I belong here. What if they laugh at me? Worse...what if they look at me with little patronizing smiles, so proud of the fat chick?

Rita, you belong where I send you.

*******************

Ok. Now on to business. I did it. I did my first triathlon.

They really should call it a quad-athlon. The first event for me was actually taking off my sweatshirt and revealing (gasp!!) a less than svelte body clad not in the requisite (or so it seemed yesterday) size 0 wetsuit. I figured a wetsuit was just a no-no for this year and this body. I kept my sweatshirt on until the last possible second, only passing it to my friend Jamie when I absolutely had to. She kept saying, "Aren't you going to take off your sweatshirt now?" I think it was on the top step of the stairs leading to the beach that I actually took it off.

Now to set the scene: A sea of size 0-2 wetsuits. I don't know the male equivalent but I think I saw maybe 2 men and maybe 3 women that didn't look like olympic athletes. FIVE out of 200. I'm feeling so comfortable at this point.

The swim was ok. A logistical mess but ok. The craziest part was trying to get out of the water and RUN in the sand after being tired. Everyone else was, so I attempted a few feet of running, muttered something non-Christian under my breath towards the comfort zone people and made my way to my bike.

The bike ride was beautiful. Beautiful morning, beautiful water. Nice. I tried to forget what was ahead. When we passed spectators or cops directing traffic I had to resist the urge to yell out - "On your knees- pray for me!!" During the ride, I actually pulled off a stellar move - I drank from my gatorade bottle without injury. Something that with my feet clipped in I had been reluctant to try during training. I know that people do it all the time but I was always nervous. Just when I'm feeling like a real biker, this young whippersnapper pedals alongside me and slowly passes. He reaches back to the pack behind his seat, UNZIPS it, takes out a Gu energy thingy, bites off the tab, chugs the Gu, puts the garbage back in the pouch and ZIPS it closed without missing a beat. I think I imagined the turn of the head in my direction and the "nah nah nah nah nah" but just the same I rolled my eyes and made a mental note to talk to the Lord about His timing.

I got changed into my running (no smirking, I said!!!) shoes and off I went, feeling on top of the world. That feeling lasted appoximately 5.2 seconds when my muscles in effect said to me, "Excuse me? Pardon? You want us to RUN? Think again, sister!! And for trying to trick us, we're not even going to let you walk!" OH MY GOSH! I knew it was going to be hard, and I had even practiced a little for it but AUUGGHH!

That's when I started to plan how I was going to cheat. The run was a series of loops. All I had to do was turn around when Rebecca (who was now smoking me in the running) passed me, thereby shortening the first loop. The long-forgotten incidents of similar cheating during childhood swim practices came flooding to mind with a smile and glimmer of hope.

Rita, you belong where I send you.

Rats. What would be the point of all the mental and physical yuckiness up to this point if I cheated? I was having a hard time being the walker in a sea of runners but I'd have a REALLY hard time being a cheater in a sea of finishers. Darn darn diggity darn!!!!!!!! I guess I have to do the whole thing.

During the run, I passed this bystander woman who I have to mention here - she was tall, pencil thin, and was doing her "workout" walk (without breaking a sweat, mind you) on the board walk. She had perfect Jersey girl big hair piled on top of her head and y'all, she had on pink frosty lip gloss. I am running in Target shorts, a Texas t-shirt with two large boob water stains, and hair flying every which way. She has on pink frosty lip gloss. How DARE she! I almost considered a short detour to just push her off the boardwalk and into the sand below. It would have felt so good. I mean, really good.

But I didn't have time to really dwell on her for that long because here came a man running with his 8 year old son. They zipped pass me. An 8 year old zipped. The 38 year old just made a mental note to add this to her blog. There are really no words to add.

As I was doing the 3 miles, a curious phenomenon occured. I'm sure someone will read this and call the American Psychiatric Society to do a case study. Instead of my life flashing before my eyes, which is common in a near-death experience such as this, my food life flashed before my eyes. With every labored step, memories of junk I've eaten came to mind. The fried ice cream I made for my neices's birthday 4 years ago, the bag of doritos I ate on a class trip in '92 (though taking 30 crazy inner city kids to Liberty Science Center would give anyone the green light for emotional eating), the late night bowls of ice cream, all came like a parade of fat through my mind. If only I hadn't eaten this or that, the run would have been easier. Do you know I remembered what flavor cupcake a kid brought for his eighth birthday party 10 years ago? I don't know the kids name any more but I sure remembered that cupcake!!! A strange phenomenon indeed.

So, regarding the word "running" as it is used in this post - I did try. But for the first mile my legs were really adamant and wouldn't budge. After that I decided I would try to run/walk. When to run? The easy answer...when passing spectators and cameras. So if you ever see a picture of me in this race, my shoulders are back, my stride is long, and my arms are in perfect form. Two minutes later, I am hunched, staggering, and praying for death. I think all told, I probably ran a mile?! Or less - I'm not sure. But I did run the last part to the finish line.

Ah...the finish line. My friends Jamie and Sean were there, as well as Rebecca. She had already finished, changed, and had a hearty breakfast but bless her heart for being at that finish line. Everyone cheered and it felt great. Jamie's dog Zeus was even holding a sign with my name on it. Ok, it was supposed to be on his back (love you, Jamie!) but it was in his mouth instead. The meaning was still fully felt.

I wish that I had more funny stories to write about here. But I'm still recovering from what I will call Comfort Zone Extraction. It's painful - there's no doubt about that. But when all is said and done - the Holy Spirit never lets you down. When He whispers the message of love, He means it and He always backs it up if you can hang in there with Him. Thank goodness He has higher hopes for me.

What's next?

Let's analyze....

I'm doing my first sprint triathlon on Sunday.

What did I just say?

I'm doing my first sprint triathlon on Sunday.

Let's play the high school English teacher and diagram that sentence.

"I'm" translation: Rita

"doing" translation: attempting to finish before nighfall without medical assistance

"my first" translation: har dee har har

"sprint" translation: crawling, staggering, being dragged by two of my friends like an unconscious political prisoner having just faced the torturer...

"triathlon" translation: WHAT??????

"on Sunday" translation: The Lord's Day - the day God has set aside to remember his sacrifice on the Cross and a day of REST and RECHARGING for the week to come.

How did I miss those two points when I made this commitment? Have I totally forsaken my Christian identity?

I think doing this triathlon will be a grievous sin. All I'll be thinking about is MY sacrifice and I definitely won't be relaxing and recharging. I'll be breaking one of the Ten Commandments! This cannot be condoned!!!

Ok, there will definitely be prayer. Lots of it. But primarily the begging kind. The kind that starts to promise first borns, entire bank accounts, limbs, and any future joy or pleasure in exchange for the pain and suffering currently being endured.

I figured out that I can run without stopping for 7 decades of the Rosary. The Sorrowful Mysteries, of course.

Stop.

I have to think positively. I have to tell myself that I will live to blog again. That my next posting will be filled with tales of success and personal triumph. I'm going to go with that.

On a more serious note (and believe me, behind the laughs, it's all serious) - I am so thankful. I am thankful that my sister's friend started doing triathlons while seriously overweight. I'm thankful that I have a friend who ran the Philly Women's Triathlon and came in dead last. I'm thankful that I have friends to run with me and friends to throw water on me and friends who will fast the whole day and practice ancient body mortification rituals with whips and chains in my honor.

I'm thankful that even though I'm afraid, overweight, and ashamed - there is something (thank you very much, Holy Spirit) inside of me that tells me to act beyond my feelings. That tells me not to live a life of fear but to get out there an experience all that life has to offer. I like that.

It brought me Peru, Tenerife, a spanish teaching job, and now a triathlon.

It's going to be awesome.

Mumus and Cheese Logs...Perfect Together!

Even though the Christmas season is behind us, there is a yuletide moment that I just have to share with you.

Right before Christmas, I gathered my mail from my mailbox and began to leaf through it. There were many catalogs and fliers for everything imaginable. When I noticed the logo for Lane Byant sticking out of the pile, I was instantly relieved...I had been hoping for one of their coupons to come in the mail so I could hit the mall.

Imagine my horror when I slid out that catalog only to read "Lane Bryant presents Figis..Gifts in Good Taste." Emphasis on taste. Uh-oh. What now?

Lane Bryant had apparently teamed up with an unlikely merchandising partner for Christmas: a purveyor of fine processed meats and cheeses all arranged in a beautiful wagon-wheel motif.

Hello?

I came to two possible conclusions. Either...

a) Lane Bryant is simply trying to boost her sales by encouraging the consumption of 95% fat content foods. When the add reads, "Enjoy more than 3 pounds of delicious variety," they must really mean, "Enjoy our lovely stretch mumus for the holiday season."

or...

b) Lane Bryant is playing a cruel joke on her customers by presenting them with gift options for their friends. The message here is "Your friends can sample our lovely fruitcakes, tortes, and cheese log trios, but you are to select food for yourself from the Weight Watchers catalog." But what would Lane gain? (I couldn't resist a that little rhyme...) Ah...yes! I've got it. Lane Bryant has tapped into the "despression eaters" market! How devilishly clever! Get your customers depressed by having them view a catalog of food for others and force them into a waistline expanding, Lane Bryant credit card grabbing binge!!!!

Or...captialism knows no taste, no tact, and no love. Word to the wise: stick to the standard Lane Bryant catalog. When you see May's Lane Bryant presents Cinco de Mayo Favorites by El Gordo Restaurante, throw it away and go to the gym.

From the mouths of babes...

It's a wonder we have any self-esteem at all when we hang out with kids. Take for example my nieces and nephews. I love them. They are fantastic, well-mannered, and fun kids. They love me. They give me awesome hugs and lots of "you're the best" vibes every time I see them.

But...

They can also innocently come up with the zingiest of zingers that get right to the heart of the matter, or should I say, fat of the matter.

Case in point: My nephew Aiden, age 4. We were coming out of his mom's van when he asked me out of the blue, "Aunt Rita, why do you have a big butt?" After I picked myself off the ground, I looked at him with, "Well, why do you have a little butt?"

He did a yoga-esque contortion and took an eyeful of his own posterior. " 'Cause I'm little."

"That's right." I replied. He thought about that for about 1.5 seconds and came back with, "So, when I'm small I have a small butt and when I'm big I'll have a big butt?"

"Yes, right again." I smiled, proud that I had handily dodged that bullet. He thought that one over for about a milisecond and stopped short.

"But my mom doesn't have a big butt like yours. How come?" The bullet found its target - deep in the fat of my psyche.

I shut the van door, gave him a hug, and went directly to the nearest Weight Watchers meeting.


Case in Point #2 - Thanksgiving Weekend 2006

I am cuddling on the couch with my niece Holly who is 7. We love to cuddle - I'd like to say it's she who craves the attention but let's face it, the Christian single life is dangerously low on cuddling. But I digress...

As we are "feet-up on the table" and smushed together on the couch, I am having a conversation with my brother. During the conversation, Holly starts poking me all over the front and muttering to herself. Disengaging myself from my brother's coversation, I look at her. "What on earth are you doing?"

"Counting your cracks."

Counting. Your. Cracks.

See if you can visualize this horror. Ok, not horror but darn close. Holly is poking her fingers in between the rolls on my body. "One...two...three...Four!" Oh my gosh!!!!!! Where is Aiden? Lurking behind the couch with a video camera? Was there a memo that went out about acceptable Aunt Rita activities?

But the truth is...we can't hide from what we are. I can pretend all I want that my butt looks smaller and that my "cracks" are just wrinkles of extra skin. If I actually want that reality, I am going to need to work.

"Hello, Tony? I'll be right there."

I touched the wagon!

I wouldn't say I'm back "on the wagon" but this morning I saw it and touched it. Thank you Lord!!!!

Tony was occupied this morning which threw me off temporarily but I made the best of it with treadmill 2 . Ironically, when you're on treadmill 2, the focal point across from you is the red Exit sign. That's just not right. Give me back Tony and my two lamposts.

I'm so weird. But I was there.

Blogger, Read Thyself!

When I started this blog in September I had these lofty ideas that people would read my blog, feel transformed in their own goals, write to tell me so, and the cycle of encouragement would begin. Eventually I'd gain nationwide acclaim....(sorry, getting out of control here.)

Bottom line:

Yeah. Right.

The reality is a far different. I got knocked on my feet by a bad cold, ate and drank my way through Paradise Village Resort in Puerto Vallarta, and lost all will to continue this journey. And when that happens, all these great encouraging thoughts came flooding to my head.

Yeah. Right.

Those positive thoughts may have been there but they quickly lost a bloody battle with the negative thoughts that came barreling in with each piece of pizza or cheese steak. Manufacturers should write that in the nutrional information:
Carbs 52 g
Fat 10 g
Thoughts of Failure 33 g
Self Loathing 87 g (or whatever the "thought" units of measurement are, you get the picture.)

And the ugly thoughts stayed. They moved in. They had "ugly Rita" parties every morning and night in different parts of my brain. And when they party, these thoughts are LOUD. So loud that they disturbed the thoughts about being a teacher, a sister, a Christian, and a decent human being. Everyone joined the fiesta. It was getting out of hand.

But how to shut down da' noise and da' funk?

Back to my original plan. People will read my blog and be inspired. Blogger, READ THYSELF!!!Hmmm....what's that she said about a choice? What's that she said about just obey yourself when the emotions tell you to quit? Hmmm...she's a wise woman who had lost 20 lbs. I think I'll take her advice.

The alarm is set for 5.
The workout clothes are on in leiu of pajamas. (Trust me, it works.)
The water bottle is chilling in the fridge.
The socks and sneakers are by the bed. (I tried sleeping in them...no good.)
The blog is read for inspiration.
The prayers are said for grace. Would you add to them, please? It's so hard.

Here we go again. Turn on the Black Eyed Peas and "Let's Get it Started."

No Lite FM on MY iPod!

Before I tell you about Mexico I have to tell you a story of woe from the night before:

I don't think of myself as an OCD type of person even though I'm sure we all have leanings in that direction from time to time. Actually, when I think about it, I'm pretty sure I'm anti-OCD. If I could get a mild case it might help me be neater, pay my bills on time, and remember that sometimes Lost comes on an hour earlier on Wednesday nights. But if you ever saw me at the gym you'd think it was time for some psychiatric drugs. Evidence:

• Must run on Tony and only on Tony (aka treamill #3). When I'm with Tony I can look out the window at the three lamp posts in the Municipal Parking Lot. Don't ask me how or why, but some how I can run and concentrate if I look at those three posts. If I were to run on treadmill 1 or 2 I'd be forced to look at a blank wall or an annoying nature picture. How on earth is a field of wild flowers supposed to make you "feel the burn?"
• I must start my workout no later than 5:40 AM. After that I feel like I've messed up my day and it's not worth even doing. God help the Gym Guy who opens the door each morning. On days he's a millisecond late I want to hand him my planner and say "And how do you want me to handle the rest of today???"
• I must have my iPod and it must be ready and waiting with appropriate running songs. It's like my body is "sound activated"and when it hears the correct tempo it just starts moving. Put on music that is too slow and I can't handle it. My friend Christine works out to Lite FM. How on earth does she stay pumped when she's running to songs like "You've Got a Friend" by James Taylor and "Rainy Days on Monday" by the Carpenters??? When my body hears those songs not only does it not run, it makes a beeline to any padded surface and falls asleep!

Now that I've set the scene for you, get this. I go to plug in my iPod to charge it before my trip and...nothing. It's frozen! It's dead! It's useless. I now have no music for the long plane ride to Puerto Vallarta or the necessary music to run and/or bike! I actually considered that Tony or Bob had something to do with it - they were nervous I'd fall in love with a Mexican model and never come back. But the pain of that frozen iPod as I just left it lifeless on my desk as I zipped my suitcase and headed out the door...sigh....!

But, determined to prove to myself that I didn't need no stinkin' iPod, I hopped on that treadmill at the resort and 5 minutes later I hopped right off again. Not the slightest teensiest inclination AT ALL to do any workouts. I did a Tae Bo class but my heart wasn't in it.

And so I gave up. No iPod, no workout. My friend and traveling companion Jamie would give me "the look" and "the sigh" but I was determined. No working out for me on this trip. The mega woman of last week was finally on vacation.

Big shock: I was ok with it. It was really and truly ok to not work out for 5 days. Lesson learned: there is a time and a season for everything. This was my time to do the tropical locale thing. I decided that I didn't want any reminder of my daily schedule back home. So when the alarm went off and I survived the well-meaning "look" and "sigh" from Jamie, I rolled over and picked up my book, read for a few minutes, and went back to sleep. Viva Mexico!

Ok, now this is where I'm thinking God was involved. Those of you who know me well know I'm not much of a "it's a sign!" kind of Christian but this was freaky. Yesterday morning, I plugged that dang iPod in and it was still frozen. In a huff, I just plunked it down my desk, still attached to the USB cable, and started checking email. Would you believe that darn thing popped out of it's slump after about 5 minutes and now works good as ever? What the heck?! Did God want me to take the weekend off and just be? I don't know. But I'll take the lesson anyhow.

Needless to say, I'm not weighing in at Weight Watchers. Due to the all-inclusive (and believe me, I included all) meal plan and plentiful drinks, I'm sure I'm up a few pounds. Truthfully, I don't care. But I'm back with Tony tomorrow at 5:30 AM. And I may visit Bob as well sometime during this week but I'm not going to go nuts. Hopefully my family will be proud of me. Regardless, I'm proud of me. I took a trip I've always wanted to take and I didn't wait until I was at my goal weight. I earned that trip just by being a hard worker and I'm enjoying my life right now.

That Gym Guy had better be there on time.

My New Boyfriends - Tony and Bob

Coorect posting date: 11/7/06

7:00 AM
Today is the day before I leave for beautiful Mexico. I'm a nervous wreck. I have been working sooooo hard to reach my 20 lb goal by tonight. And by some stroke of luck or Divine Intervention (not ruling that out at this point) I've been inspired to give it my all by doing 2 cardio workouts each day and drinking 2 liters of water each day this past week to make it happen.

Now before you check the top of your webpage and see that it does say "auntrita" - let me explain one of my weight loss success tips: momentum. Do it while you feel like doing it. And I felt like doing it this week. Tony the Treadmill was so proud of me but I have to say in hindsight, a bit jealous as I also hung out on Bob the Bike, a mere foot away from Tony.

Tony and I worked for an hour each morning and Bob and I for an hour each afternoon/evening. Is that going to be enough? Is it crazy to think I could lose 5 pounds in one week? Is it stupid and vain to even try? My thoughts just came back to momentum. There is going to come a time in the next week or two when I'm not going to want to do anything so I'm going to run with it. (Ok Bob, ride with it too. Now who's jealous?)

I'm off to weigh in at school for our Biggest Loser contest. I've not eaten or drank anything since around 6:00 AM. I'm wearing the lightest clothes possible. I wonder if my principal will take issue with a tank top and shorts in November?!

8:00 PM Same Day

At about 7:14 AM I stepped on that scale at work, exhaled with all my might and prayed for the best. Actually, I prayed mostly that I would be able to like myself and accept whatever the scale said. I took a minute to congratulate myself on pushing myself and making healthy eating choices this week. I told myself that my plan was to lose 100 pounds. If I hit 20 today or next week or next year, I'm going to eventually hit it and then on to 100.

I almost passed out. There it was....236 !(gasp gasp, choke, choke -it's hard to write such an obscene number for public viewing) 5 pounds down from last week. Whoo hoo!!! I praised the Lord while jumping up and down and doing a little dance. I love that happy dance. How often in life are we really that happy that we can't help but dance? It's been a while, so I found myself spontaneously doing the jig all day long. The real joy? That I actually had some determination for once in a long time. That I made some great changes to my daily life that have been actually paying off. That I have seen my athletic abilities increase....these are the real joys. Not to mention giving away ANOTHER bag of clothes. I love being a Bag Donator.

I also had to give some kudos to Tony and Bob. You know how temperamental- how do you spell that? - the gym machines can be.

Next goal - 25 lbs by the time I see my family in Texas for Thanksgiving. Major obstacle to achieving that goal - Paradise Village Resort and Spa's All Inclusive Meal Plan. I'm bringing a needle and thread and having my friend Jamie sew my mouth closed.