I haven't cared for running for several months now. Earlier this year it was from terrible pelvic pain…then it was because it felt like my insides were shifting with each step…then it was because it made me realize my back was feeling great (because I felt the ache only when I ran). I have valid reasons that no one can really argue with, least of all myself.

But argue, I do. I am fit enough to run, and I vowed after my mother died that I would use my health to benefit those who do not have theirs. When I received the email for this year's Gilda's Run, I knew that I would sign up. I told Nick that I would do the walk, but as the day grew closer and I read more about little Grace, I felt like I was supposed to run this one. I know better than anyone that Cancer affects more than just the physical, and Gilda's Club nurtures the emotional.

The run starts in about two hours, and my stomach is in knots. I keep asking myself why I just can't stay away from these, why I just can't give it up all the way. This is probably the classic definition of addiction: being compelled to do something long after it stops being enjoyable.

A few weeks ago, we replaced the television in the living room. The last television was a rear-projection model, and the bulb simply wore out. The bulb is affordable and easy to replace at home (you just have your husband do it, duh). I will admit that I wanted a new television, and have for awhile, but I needed a reason. I am rather (make that VERY) particular about images, and I thought the television was a little lacking.

I mean, the picture was vibrant and displayed such high-definition that I could count eyelashes and see dust motes on sitcom sets…but I was disappointed in the blacks. They just weren't…black enough. I love the "true black" of an image. It isn't the absence of light that intrigues me, but the prominence that the contrast gives to the rest of the picture.

Anyway, I saw the bulb burning out as a big thumbs up from above to bring a new television home. (And it's beautiful, but that's not for this post.)



So now we were left with an extra 42-inch, rear-projection, high definition television that would be operational with minimal effort. (There are pictures of the TV in this old post.) What to do with it? It's hard finding random places for a 42-inch television. In the hallway next to the shoe tray? In the kitchen sharing the same outlet with the toaster? In the bathroom under the towel rack? The darn thing did not work anywhere.

Anywhere, that is, until I thought of my revived love affair with exercise DVDs. The big rear-projection beast would totally kick the 19-inch tube's butt. I wasn't concerned with my frustration on the "true black" thing because I know that sweat mellows me…or is it that I am concentrating so hard on just surviving that I can't find the energy to care about inadequate contrast?

I used the new resident in our home gym area last night. I kept debating between Billy and Jillian. I told Nick, "I'd burn a lot more calories with Jillian, but I'd have a lot more fun with Billy." Since I told Nick earlier that I felt a twinge in my low back, he piped in that I should go with Billy.

Ta da! Decision made: I grabbed Jillian's DVD.

Immediately, it was obvious that the DVD was not formatted for a wide screen. When she appeared on the screen, I had to say aloud, "Oh, Jill…you don't look so good." I will admit that I got a kick out of her stretched image for a handful of seconds. This is the woman, after all, that brings me to complete muscle failure every time. Once, she even made me cry because I was just at the end of all the energy I had…no more to give. She could stand a little good-natured distortion. You know what they say: a widescreen TV adds 30 pounds! (I did update the view eventually).

It took me extra long to all asleep last night. I am going to have to get used to life-sized Jillian in my basement, that's all I can say right now.

I still have chills.

Since I've been nearly pain free (sorry I keep bringing that up, but it just gives me such a rush!), I've been trying to get back my fitness. I have been working out six days a week for the last five weeks. I was so intimidated when I started—my 30th birthday.

No, intimidation isn't a strong enough idea: I was afraid. My first serious post-hysterectomy workout was a five-mile power walk with my cousin about five weeks after surgery. (I don't know how to ease into things.) Two days later I experienced a decent setback in my recovery, and though it would have happened regardless of my activity level, my psyche screamed EXERCISE=BAD! every time I so much as thought about trying to move my body.

I decided to bite the bullet on my birthday because I was tired of being afraid. I was feeling extremely out of shape; I felt awful about myself, so I had to face it (especially on the first day of a new decade). I went to an old friend—Tae Bo. My body is extremely efficient with kickboxing. I'm not sure why that is…maybe it's just that I spent so many years getting most of my exercise from roundhouse kicks and jabs. I was used to kickboxing being my fun workout, the workout that didn't make me swear or cry or do anything uncivilized…the easy workout.

Well, to sum it up, that first hour back with Billy Blanks kicked my butt. My heart was beating so hard that my chest actually felt bruised. I don't know how many times I had to stop and pant! The experience both shamed and motivated me. I was determined to get back to where I was before this mess began.

I stuck primarily with the kickboxing until last week when I threw one of Jillian Michaels' workouts into the mix. In case you don't know this, Jillian Michaels is just as tough on DVD as she was in the Biggest Loser gym. I got through it without issue, but I hurt for days afterwards. Gathering my courage, I decided that tonight I would attempt the hardest workout DVD I own—another Jillian workout.

When Nick and I did P90X last year, everyone told us that "Plyo X" was the hardest, most terrifying and defeating workout on Earth…ever. I ended up doing that workout for the first time by myself (Nick was having a hard time detoxing from his caffeine addiction), and my first reaction after finishing? "Jillian's is harder."

I am so proud to say that after five weeks of hard work, I got through that workout without any problems—none whatsoever. I am finally starting to be more like myself…jogging up flights of stairs at work instead of taking the elevator. Also, I'm finally starting to build back some of the muscle tone I've lost—both through illness and my exclusivity to running throughout most of last year.

Don't get me wrong, I still have a lot of work to do, but I've finally crossed that line where effort becomes the norm, and I feel great.

Learning to exercise after a lifetime of inactivity was daunting to say the least. The "no excuses workout" is and will always be walking. Anyone of any fitness level can walk. Walking can be done anywhere, including sidewalks, trails, malls, hallways, streets…pretty much anywhere there is a surface. Since people can walk both outdoors and in, walkers can maintain their regimen through all weather conditions. Walking: it'll get you going.

I came to love walking. I loved the peace and the strength that it gave me. Walking remains my favorite exercise to this day. Unfortunately, my body became very efficient at walking, and it was increasingly difficult to reach and maintain my target heart rate. I continued to increase both my speed and my mileage until I just didn't have the time commitment to give to walking 20+ miles a day. I turned to other exercises to supplement my cardiovascular exercise plan.



I toyed around with running beginning in 2004. I had a lot of mental blocks with running, and for those of you who do not know, running is about 90% mental. I was living near a lake surrounded by a five-mile paved path at the time. For the longest time, I would just run the first half-mile and walk the rest. I could have gone longer physically, but I never saw myself as someone who could run. The distance of a single mile seemed insurmountable enough. Only real runners might actually run for longer distances.

It wasn't until I moved back to Wisconsin in 2005 that I began to see things differently. For the first time ever, I had a gym membership and exposure to all sorts of machines that I had never used before. I loved that gym, and I eventually gained the confidence to get on a treadmill and run for an hour or longer. While I have run outdoors since, I never achieved the same feeling of nirvana as I did on a treadmill. This was a controlled environment, one where I could blur everything to the background and get inside my mind. The treadmill has been my therapist for many years now.

While surgical wounds were healing—a process that lasted at least six months—I was unable to run. I began using an elliptical trainer in earnest. I loved the ProForm trainers at the gym because it was essentially the motion of running but without the impact (or the strain on my dressings). The experience at the gym prompted us to invest in our first piece of exercise equipment in 2008: a Sole E95 Elliptical Trainer. Only, the Sole was not the same "ride" as the machines at the gym. There was no "easy" setting on this machine, and the tracks were not worn slick from hundreds of users; it's complete drudgery from start to finish. I thought I was having a heart attack after 10 minutes.

I saved up my money and bought a treadmill later that year. The elliptical, which certainly wasn't cheap, has been a dust-catcher for far too long. The machine makes me feel sluggish and unfit, which is an obvious ding to my ego. After dedicating last year to running (outside and on a treadmill), I accomplished running speeds and distances that I would never have thought possible once upon a time. I suppose the victories won in running have given me the confidence to finally win over that HARD machine. I won't say that my ego is alive and well (because it's pretty bruised that I nearly vomited after a 30 minute workout)…but I am ready to face my foe.

I had lunch with my cousin today. She house-sat for us while we were on vacation and regularly partook of our home gym. She gave up on our elliptical after five minutes and switched back to the treadmill. I told her my plans to conquer the elliptical this year, and she sucked a breath through clenched teeth before responding, "You're brave: THAT THING SUCKS."

HARD isn't necessarily bad. Asking myself to circle back to the elliptical will help my body grow stronger. It's not torture, it's a gift.

At least that's the story I'm telling myself to get through the next few weeks.

This was the first year that I have ever set a New Years goal for myself. To say that I never used to respect myself enough to keep a personal goal is a fair statement of the Laura's of years gone by. I thought the idea of resolutions was just a recipe to feel like a failure. Why promise yourself something when you know that you are going to give up after a few months anyway? (I feel like the Debbie Downer trombone's "wah wha" should play right about here!)

Naturally, losing someone close to you changes you forever; if you care enough to look, some of those changes can be for the better. I feel like life was dull before Mom got sick. By "dull", I do not mean unexciting, but rather that nothing that touched me seemed to make a mark. I suppose that is a defense mechanism of sorts, but all the same it keeps you from experiencing life to the fullest.

All that changed when something completely unexpected happened: my mother and best was diagnosed with end-stage Cancer at a routine physical. With that news, and without my permission, the shield shattered and hundreds of sharp knives seemed to claw at me for days…months…years. That phone call changed my life (I was living 1,200 miles away at the time). I felt like I cried a lifetime of pent-up tears in those initial months, and then every tiny thing would set me off. I hated it.

But I needed it, really needed it. I needed to be able to feel or I wasn't living life the way I should, the way that Mom would have lived it had she been given more time. I've made a lot of promises to myself in the years since she left, and I have actually cared enough to keep them.

It was with that sentiment, almost four years after she passed, that I set what I thought would be a nearly impossible running goal for myself, particularly with having very little free time outside of work and school. It had to be a big goal that I needed to work on throughout the year, or I would have procrastinated until, oh…October.

No matter how many different ways I tried to divide the mileage (2.74 miles a day for 365 days, 19.23 a week for 52 weeks, 83.33 miles a month for 12 months, 250 miles each quarter for four quarters), I couldn't figure out how to take an easy way out. So, I just did it!



Nick, Jeff, and I showed up for one last race this year (Jeff has completed almost 20 in 2010!) with the threat of blizzard in the sky to toast the end of a successful running year. Cheers and congratulations to everyone as they wrap up their yearly goals!