In the beginning-ish.

So there are either two truths or two beginnings that I could tell.  One beginning would be considered where I, my therapist or Dr. Oz, assumes my weight issues started.  The second beginning was when it all clicked and I had my "Ah-ha" moment(s).

Lori and Luke

In the beginning...

I grew up rough and tough in Baltimore City.  My family was not well off and as far as food, we often were dependent on what we could afford rather then what was most nutritionally balanced. My mom has struggled with weight issues all of her life. In fact, I think my brother Luke is the only one without a weight issue. As an adult, I was guilty of hitting up the taco bell drive-thru for the $0.89 meal because it was cheaper then anything I would find at the grocery store for dinner. I know it,  you know it! It is the reality of our current society.  Lower income families fall victim to this on a daily basis.  If that is how you ate as a child, that is how you will eat as a grown up.  Before you know it, you are feeding your own children a McDonalds Kid's Meal assuming that now that there are  those 4 slices of apples in the box, that it can be considered as, "Health Food". Bull!  But...you never know until you know.  For 30years, I didn't know.

Like any good old American family, we had issues.  Wait... Issues with a capital "I".  Dr. Oz and Oprah always say that some times your addiction to food is because of this or that event in your life.  I always thought that was a bit of a crock.  Yeah, I was over weight- no- clinically morbidly obese.  Yeah, I had some drama growing up.  It was not until recently that I was able to understand that 1 + 1 = 2.  Recently meaning like... last week.  Here I am, 82lbs down in my journey staying on track for my 7th week in a row and I get a phone call from an ex-boyfriend.  I hang up, annoyed and frustrated.  I gave up 7 weeks of success for a half a jar of Nutella. W.T.F.? Duh... 1+1=2.  Thankfully, during this process most recently, I have sought the help of several trusted friends and a therapist who have helped me notice these things before a 1/2 jar of Nutella turns into 12 jugs of Ice Cream.

If you got fat, get educated, get therapy, get support and then go get skinny!!! 

-me, of course.

In the other beginning...


I suppose that it is easier to throw out the facts and let you paint the picture.

• Starting Stats:  5'4" and  258lbs.  Could I have been heavier? Oh Yea, would I have gotten on a scale to find out-NOPE!

And these were taken after I had started to lose weight already!!!  Yikes.

 
In 2009, I found myself getting the "itch" to want to turn my life around.  I had tried Adkins, Weight Watchers, South Beach, Personal Trainers and none of which really "stuck".  I would do great for a while but sooner or later, I would wake up having put all that weight on.  Plus interest.  I wanted to get out of the house and do something for myself.  Fad diets were not the answer.  My very first step was to return to my roots.  I got back into martial arts.  I loved it but very quickly, I found that my knees were not as excited as my heart. I was not even 30 years old and I found myself in an Orthopedic Specialist office considering knee replacement.  As I walked out of the office, I glanced down and my paperwork and on it was a box that changed my life.  Reason/Diagnosis:  Obesity.  I teared up and called my mom.  I was so upset.  I allowed myself to think that the "reason" was because I injured it in karate. Seeing on paper in black and white that I was OBESE with no other description to use as an excuse a reality check. 

It was now or never...

My boss said in passing that she was going to do her first half marathon.  I nervously laughed and said... "I am going to do one by the time I am 30!".  Thinking to myself, I said..."CRAP!  I am 28 and the marathon is in October!! That means if I am going to do it... I have to do THIS one."  So... I did it.  I signed myself up for the Baltimore Running Festival.  My motivation was the sticker.  Oh you know the one.

In the weeks leading up to the race, I told everyone I knew about it.  Talk about accountability.  Every where I went, someone was asking about my training progress. (Gee... wish I would have started training.  Actually, I wish I would have started with a 5k.)  I knew enough about myself to know that I needed to put myself in a position where I HAD to get up and go. I depended on dear ol' momma for that one.  I spent the night at her house knowing that she would make sure I would get my butt out of bed and in the car.  While getting ready, I kept catching glances of my mom with a proud look on her face.  She was proud. She was proud of me.  If I finished 1 mile or 13.1, my mom was proud of my effort. I kept my cell phone on me to call her at mile 5 to let her know if I was going to need rescuing or not.  I called her at mile 5 and stayed on the phone passing the 6mile mark.  After the 7th mile, I was already over the half way point.  I WAS GOING TO FINISH!  By mile 10, I started to jog every other street.  I was not only going to finish, I was not going to be last. The medics were like vultures picking off the weak by mile 12.  I stayed strong and finished with a sprint-ish.  On the other side of that finish line was a whole new life.  I did it!  That day, I vowed to KEEP doing it.

Within a few months of crossing that finish line, I had completed my first mud run, signed up for rock climbing, bought bicycle, signed up at a new gym, registered for a mini triathlon and took on a personal trainer. Wow, go big or go home right?  That became my new mantra.

Go Big or Go Home!