They sat staring out at the rain, cradling double-handled cups of their afternoon snack in their hands. Grapes, they love grapes. You would think it was a cold winter day, though it was more than 80 degrees outside. In between mouthfuls they alternated between chasing one another around the house and pleading to go outside. By the time the rain relented, dinner was nearly finished cooking. This is how it goes with time. . . it simply gets away, often while we are consumed with the minutia of life. They do not have a monopoly on longing, but on this day theirs is all that matters.
How could I not have engaged their little dreams. My sister reminded me of a time not so long ago when I threw-off my bonds of dullness and traipsed through the rain with my oldest son, just because we could. We were soaked to the bone and loved every rain-drenched minute of it.
I can't get so caught in the routine
that I don't allow myself to get caught up in the moment.
The photo is my reminder.
Lest you think otherwise, this is what lay on the other side of those little hoods. . . that mischievous little grin melts my heart.
I wrote this blog on SparkPeople back in 2008 after losing 61 pounds. It was selected today on their website as their inspirational story for the day. The timing was perfect for me to reread it and remind myself that I've done it once. . . and I can do it again! I'm not at the same starting place, thankfully. This time my starting weight is 194. Not that I mark success solely by the scale, but it is a logical place to start. Anyway, up, up, and away we go!
This was me at my heaviest non-pregnant weight. I was about 210-215 pounds.
One day my soul woke up and it was fat! It didn't happen overnight; I wasn't always fat. I had spent the last 11 years eating emotionally. It started with my husband's death. We had been newlyweds. Emotional eating had stayed with me long after my wounds began to heal and even after I remarried. It had become a habit. And even though I knew I was hurting myself, I felt powerless to overcome it. Food had control over my life for years, but finally, I decided to live differently. From somewhere came a glimmer of hope that my life could be different.
Then SparkPeople showed up with a soft knock and an invitation: "Can Audri come out and play?" This began a journey of self-discovery I never could have imagined. You see, I didn't realize that year after year, my personality and my future were slowly being buried under a growing layer of fat!
SparkPeople helped me realize for the first time that to be successful I had to make some serious changes. It wasn't enough to make a New Year's resolution and hope for the best. I had to commit to being different…but first I had to believe it was possible. So I started with what I knew to be true. I knew I had not always been fat. I knew others had overcome even greater weight obstacles than mine. Mostly, I knew that through my faith, I could do anything. After acknowledging these things, I felt prepared to commit to whatever it took to conquer myself. Within a week, I came up with the four strategies I would use to set myself up for success.
First, I assessed my battle with food in an honest way. My "If they don't see me eat it, it doesn't count" attitude had to go! Using the Nutrition Tracker, I took a close look at my food choices and it opened my eyes! Over time, I chose to eliminate caffeine, table salt, alcohol, sodas and excessively high fat, high-calorie foods from my diet. Some were harder to let go than others were, but one by one they fell by the wayside in exchange for healthier options.
Second, I stopped hiding my struggle. Those who loved me had known all along anyway—my size 18 wasn't a good disguise. I was only fooling myself. I realized I had fallen into a habit of secretly losing a little weight with the hope that others would notice. When they didn't, I became discouraged and eventually quit. I decided to try a different approach and bring God, my family and friends into the program with me. This way, I was encouraged and held accountable. Eventually, I joined a SparkTeam and even started one of my own.
Third, I set my goals. I set concrete short, medium and long-term goals based on my interests. Some I knew were attainable, like doing cardio four days each week. Some were a stretch, like climbing Mt. Fuji someday—something that would take a lot of hard work to reach. I needed to have something on the horizon to aim at, a target. It was important for it to be realistic enough that I could focus on it instead of my overall weight loss goal. If I had begun by focusing on losing the whole 70 pounds, I would have become overwhelmed and possibly given up.
Fourth, I put a concrete plan in motion to help me succeed. I wrote out my plan on my SparkPage to keep myself accountable. This included making my Nutrition and Fitness Trackers public so others could see what I was tracking. I devoted myself to following my plan, even on the days when I wanted to quit. I determined there were only two choices: to quit or continue. And quitting wasn't an option.
Along the way, a funny thing happened. I found me! Each honest step I took loosened the control food had over me. Once I began to see the fruits of my labor, I realized that I could have done it all along. I had been making excuses and giving away my freedom to choose a better life. Through overcoming the old me, I realized that my personality had been stifled. I wasn't energetic enough to be on the outside the person I was on the inside. Now, I have a zeal that was lost for years. I am alive! I've even tackled new physical challenges and along the way come to think of myself as an athlete. In August 2008, I climbed to the top of Mt. Fuji. And in November 2008, my whole family decided to run the Marine Corps-sponsored Toys for Tots 5K on Yokosuka Naval Base. I'll never forget what happened between my son and me that day.
The horn blew and we started at a good clip, with my young son jogging easily and setting a good pace. It wasn't long before he was ready to slow down a little, and not long after that, he was ready to quit altogether. He had brought a lime green bandanna to wear around his neck but had taken it off. As he was about to give up, I took the bandanna from him and grasped one end tightly. Handing him the other end, I said, "Come on, I won't let go. We can do it together every step of the way." I wanted so desperately for him to overcome all that held him back and simply persevere to the end.
I spoke to him of children who would benefit from what we were doing and of those who walk more than five kilometers just to get a drink of dirty water. We spoke of climbing Mt. Fuji and other challenges that life still holds ahead of us. I pulled and pushed him. I cheered for him. I empathized with him. I shared bits and pieces of life wisdom with him. This was not the first time I had told him that I believe in him, that "You can do it!" Even still, today was different. Today was that opportunity for him to rise above something bigger than he was, and not just to call himself a conqueror, but also to feel it in his spirit.
During the last leg, as we could see the finish line, I was giving him a pep talk. I wish I could recall the exact words I said to him at that moment, but I'll never forget his response: "Yeah, just like YOU believe in me." At that moment, my heart swelled with love and hope. Hope that he will embrace those words and grow to be a confident man who does not fear life's challenges. He confirmed that he does truly listen to me and believes me when I tell him, "I believe in you."
As we neared the finish line, he told me he was ready to sprint. He let go of the green bandanna we had carried together for the last 3 miles and we sprinted together to the finish line. During the whole race, he never stopped moving forward—not once. He had ups and downs, but he never quit. And as we crossed that finish line side-by-side, he became a little more of the adult I will someday know him to be.
After grabbing some water and finding my husband, we stood together to listen to the race results. My softhearted 8-year-old son said to me, "That was the hardest thing I've ever done, but I'm glad I did it." In that moment, I learned the most beautiful truth: Today he came to believe in himself, like SparkPeople helped me believe in myself. This would have never happened had I not wrestled with my food and exercise demon and come out victorious, believing in myself. This moment was made possible by SparkPeople and one life changed—no, make that two.
I realized that perhaps the greatest consequence of my weight loss (60 pounds to date) is that I have the ability to help others in a meaningful way. I never thought I would see the day when others would call me an inspiration. Living as a fat person enabled me to relate better to the struggles of others. I guess those 11 "fat" years weren't completely wasted after all.
This is after losing weight. Here I was 144 pounds and felt amazing!
My son is a Boy Scout and is therefore called to live by the Boy Scout Law, which states:
“A Scout is:
Trustworthy,
Loyal,
Helpful,
Friendly,
Courteous,
Kind,
Obedient,
Cheerful,
Thrifty,
Brave,
Clean,
and Reverent.”
It is important to us to provide opportunities for him to exercise these virtues and to bear witness to and praise him when he embodies them in his life. Last night I was present for a beautiful moment where he identified with one of these virtues for the first time.
We participated in a flag retiring ceremony with his scout troop. The evening was cool as the crowd of boys and adults alike circled the fire. With the troop band striking a patriotic tone, the scene was set for a solemn observance. The senior scouts began to describe in detail the meaning behind each aspect of the American flag, including the colors:
Red symbolizes Hardiness and Valor.
White symbolizes Purity and Innocence.
Blue represents Vigilance, Perseverance and Justice.
With the boys holding a large flag stretched flat, one boy cut away the blue field of stars, saying it would be kept intact signifying the unity of our fifty states. As the scout then separated each stripe from the flag, another read aloud historic details of each of the original thirteen colonies. Upon completing each reading, yet another scout would step over to the fire, drop the stripe into the flames and render a scout salute. Once all the stripes were likewise burned, the blue field of stars was laid across the top of the fire. As the flames began to consume the cloth, the stars let off a slight glow.
Once the flag was completely consumed, all were invited to participate. Many flags were being retired after being flown to tatters and we lined up to place our piece of the flags into the fire. We were asked to pause for respect and reflection upon dropping our piece into the flames. In those moments, I captured the following photo of my son.
His look was serious, his salute poised. Something was obviously stirring in his mind. As he stepped near me, I could see his eyes were moist. I asked him if anything was wrong, to which he replied, “I don’t know.” He continued to stare at the fire, watching others in a slow procession. Then I asked, “Are you feeling quiet?” He gave me a nod and I asked, “Are you feeling patriotic?” “Yes,” he replied. I put my arm around his shoulder and told him, “I think what you’re feeling is reverence. It’s part of the Boy Scout Law.” I used my phone to look up the word and handed it over to him. After reading the definition, he acknowledged that was exactly what he was feeling.
I’m blessed to have been present for that singular moment in his life when being an American came to mean more to him than simple birthright. It is an evening neither of us will ever forget.
The subject of discipline recently came up in a friend's blog. Interestingly enough, I had just been thinking on this same topic. His question was posed within the framework of disciplining your children, however, my ponderings on discipline were taking a different course...
When I was a teenager, I spent a very short amount of time studying Tae Kwon Do. I'm not sure why I was pursuing that particular martial art, or any for that matter, except that I knew the instructor. As an adult in my mid twenties I returned to study the same art, but again it was short-lived as having children, going to college, and living life all provided me with lovely distractions.
Upon moving to Japan, and following my historical ten year gap in pursuing martial arts, I found myself once again drawn to its study. This time I decided to take on Karate. My initial motivation was my 8 year-old son. I thought it important to provide him not only a physical outlet, but an opportunity to receive discipline and focused instruction from another adult. We found an instructor through the Navy Morale, Welfare, and Recreation department and set out to try Karate on for size.
Our sensei's (teacher's) name was Nobuaki Ota. He was roughly 5'5", balding, ridiculously strong, easily old enough to be my father if not more, had an infectious smile, and didn't really speak a lick of English. Thank God that body language is easy to follow in martial arts. By the end of the first session with Ota Sensei I was exhausted - and hooked! Whether my son loved it or not would remain to be seen, but I needed to know more.
Sensei worked me to a bone. My crimson face and every pore of my body dripped sweat throughout every lesson. Each week I found myself more focused than the week before. I hung on his every word, dissected his every movement, and studied his Japanese in order to learn the correct terms. He gave me a DVD to use in studying the correct forms or "kata". I couldn't get enough.
Being an extrovert, I desperately wanted to know more about Ota Sensei. Knowing him compelled me even further to study the Japanese language. It was such a joy to us both when we could understand each other without the use of a translator. Eventually, I came to know more of him and his life. He had taught Karate for 30 years and still has a child who lives in the United States. We were even blessed to have a lovely evening among a group of Japanese and American friends where we all went to Japanese style karaoke and shared coffee afterward. Sensei can sing a beautiful Japanese ballad.
Seeing the smile cross his face when I would perform my kata correctly or when I performed admirably during our sparring brought me immense joy. That smile, along with one of his few English words, "good", made me want to work harder. In a sense, the feeling was similar to how I would feel if my dad expressed pride or an appreciation of my work. Eventually, the day came when Sensei said I was ready to take my first test. I was nervous, excited, and only sure I was ready because he was sure. I trusted his wisdom and guidance.
The day of my test turned out to be more than just a test of Karate skills. I was a fish out of water. Traveling to a sports facility south of my home in Yokohama - an area I was only vaguely familiar with - I had no idea what to expect. Simply walking into the building was a test of courage. I was surrounded by a sea of Japanese faces, none of whom I recognized. As it turned out, I was the only foreigner in the entire place and people stared. I must have been a strange sight. My anxiety was growing and I felt as if all my training was leaving me in a rush of adrenaline. Just as I was feeling completely lost, Sensei strode in with confidence. It was hard to contain my relief.
We stepped outside where he went over my moves and their Japanese terms. Since the whole test would be conducted in Japanese it would be critical for me to understand the judges as they gave instructions. All my movements were to be ordered from the initial bow to the last, with each kick, punch, and turn to be performed in concert with a command. I focused insanely on each person going before me, so that by the time it was my turn I found myself moving with relative confidence and fluidity with the judge's commands. Sharp, quick, controlled, focused - the whole room disappeared as I moved across the floor. Only afterward did I realize that it seemed the whole room was sizing me up.
The following week Sensei gave me a certificate written completely in Japanese and translated it as best he could. In essence, I had passed. There was no fanfare, no party, just back to work. After that first test, Karate took on a whole different meaning for me. I began to see the minutia of detail that went into every movement. The lifelong study of an art had never had personal significance to me until then.
One day during our practice I recall being pleased that I had finally conquered a movement that had given me difficulty. Over and over I had practiced and repeatedly I had stopped and gone back to the beginning with a heavy sigh. I was hoping for and maybe even expecting to receive the proverbial "pat on the back" when Sensei approached me and went straight to my hand. While conquering the movement with my legs and perhaps most of my upper body, I had lost focus on my hands. He reached and corrected my thumb, which had gone lazy and strayed from what should have been its perfect resting place. Finally, I understood the true meaning of discipline. According to the definition, discipline, in part, is behavior in accordance with rules of conduct; behavior and order maintained by training and control. In that moment with Ota Sensei is when it occurred to me that I would spend the rest of my life working to perfect this art and still never get it right! Wow, what a concept! Even more amazing to me is that I'm perfectly content to spend the rest of my life trying.
When I was a little girl I used to dance around the room holding a hairbrush, pretending it was a microphone. Music spoke to every part of my soul. If it was an emotion or experience of any kind, I could choose a song to relate it to. It was my outlet, my comfort, my connection to life.
I recall the first time I told someone, "I'm a singer." Part of me felt like a fake because they looked at me as if to size up whether or not I was lying to them. At that moment I felt a need to explain that I wasn't a recording artist, but a singer none-the-less. Why did I have to explain myself? Why did I feel like I was absconding with a title I hadn't earned? Actually, the real question was, "Am I really a singer?"
The same applies to my writing. Now that I tell people I am a writer I get the same type of look as before with my singing. People want to know if I'm published. Well, no I'm not, but does that make me any less a writer?
I've come full circle on these questions and here is the conclusion I've come to. When I wake up in the morning, I have a song on my lips. I sing: in the car, in the shower, to wake the babies and to put them to sleep, when I'm happy, when I'm sad, when I'm inspired, walking through Wal-Mart, or any other time as the urge hits me. In essence, I'm a singer because I sing.
Why then am I also a writer? Throughout the day I make notes about topics to write about. It's an ongoing joke with my family when I say, "You know I'm gonna have to write about that," and they know I'm serious. I regularly e-mail myself writing ideas. I ponder book ideas. By the end of the day, all I can think about is stealing time to write. In fact, I often fall asleep in my recliner, laptop open on my legs, fingers still on the keys banging out the most recent inspiration. Essentially, I'm a writer because I write.
When I wake up in the morning or go to sleep at night, when all I can think of is singing or writing, that IS who I am. It is who God created me to be. So whether I am recorded or published or not is irrelevant. I am these things because of my passion for them and their movement within me. This is in part, my definition of me. These are two of the parts I most wish to share with the world.
On a trying day not long ago, I found myself standing face-to-face with my 10 year-old son. To be honest it felt slightly like a Mexican stand-off. Let me recount those moments . . .
We'd had a very difficult morning that involved lots of driving, baby tears and screams, long periods of waiting at a doctor's appointment, and one of our dogs biting the vet. Without further detail, one can imagine the lovely day we were having. During one slight, but desperately needed lull in our day, my son went to our van to retrieve one of his precious Beanie Babies. He's been a collector of sorts for years. Each is special in it's own way and he can recall the details of how each of them have come to join his little "Beanie" family.
Standing in front of the vet's office watching him play with this particular stuffed animal created a stir in me. It was a white umbrella bird with a pink crown of hair that stands up like Don King's. All I could think was here was my 10 year-old son, playing with a very feminine-looking bird out in public. I decided to say something to him. Though I can't recall my exact words, they were an appeal to his masculine side and an attempt to get him to put the bird back in the van. Taking it from his hands, I told him most boys wouldn't be playing with a white and pink bird in public.
My highly introspective son stood there a moment contemplating what I'd said, all the while staring at the bird. After a long pause, he reached for bird saying, "I don't care what people think. I like me." His words left me speechless. In a flash, I was ashamed and thought back to a book I'd read in college called "Real Boys". The premise of this book is that boys suffer low self-esteem and other problems as a result of societal expectations related to masculinity. (That's a HUGE nutshell.) I realized I had just tried to lay on my son what society had brainwashed me with as a child - boys should be tough, act tough, and shun creativity and anything remotely feminine. Wow, that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard!
Anyone who knows my son knows he is very creative, loves to read, and though he loves to swim, he isn't really an athlete. He's compassionate, loving, sentimental, and a sometimes philosopher. Occasionally, he brings me breakfast in bed or makes a cute homemade note for me. He loves board games and cries when he sees injustice or hurt animals. Truly, he is a wonderful young man and I am so blessed to have him in my life. So why in the world would I want to change him? Put simply, I don't and I won't. I don't want to regurgitate onto my son any dysfunctional societal attitudes regarding his masculinity. Let him have his pink-haired Beanie Baby bird - and let me learn again that the best thing I can do for him is give him Godly guidance and love and encourage the person God is turning him into. I'm so proud of my son. One of my favorite quotes applies so well to what I think of my him today. “Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You.” ~ Dr. Suess
Sometimes as a parent I get it wrong. It's so important when I'm having a less than stellar parenting moment that I'm wise enough to reevaluate my position and courageous enough to change my stance if necessary. I can't be dogmatic. As much as I'd like to be, I'm not always right. Changing my mind or allowing it to be changed by my son is nothing to be afraid of. It doesn't make me a weaker Mom. It refines me.
At times I turn dialogue with my son into a monologue. Better to listen to him tell me who he is than to tell him who is going to be. Who am I to think that he has nothing to teach me? The truth is that I learn from him everyday. What if I spent more time actually hearing what my son has to say? What if all parents did the same?
All around me are the living, breathing examples of courage born by those who never thought themselves capable of their feats. Where did they come from? How were they prepared - or were they? Is courage an innate character trait or are we simply thrust into it under a given set of circumstances? I believe that courage is what we exhibit when pulling ourselves up by the bootstraps under the strain of dangerous or stressful life events, but also what we exhibit in the smallest of ways, in simply stepping out of our box and being who we are called on to be in spite of our fears.
I just finished reading Always Looking Up by Michael J. Fox. In it he draws a distinction between the work he does with his foundation, a result of his being stricken with Parkinson's Disease, and those who undertake a noble cause not because they have been touched personally by the cause itself, but are involved simply because it's the right or just thing. Of course I'm wildly paraphrasing, but his point was about courage. He was courageous for taking on PD, yet it was a natural extension of his circumstances. So, are we all bound by the same rule - only to stretch ourselves into those areas where we are likewise affected? What about a passion for that cause unrelated to ourselves; one where we throw ourselves at the solution with abandon just because it's worthy?
When we identify that which is worthy, what keeps us standing on the sidelines? We can pretend it's a conflict of interest or schedule, we're just too tired, it's none of our business, or simply that our voice will be drowned out. Besides, who are we that anyone would be inclined to listen to us anyway? What could we possibly have to offer that hasn't been tried already by others with more money, a louder voice, or more political weight to throw around?
Here's the deal: it doesn't matter! We're not called to be who we are based on what those around us are doing with their time and efforts. We are here to maintain a since of integrity, in essence to be the person on the outside that truly coincides with the person on the inside - the same within as without. Isn't that what we look for in the mirror, in others and what we hope to instill in our future generations? Don't live a lie. Live with passion, and at every opportunity, stand up and be counted because the courage is in the standing up and if you are beaten down in the getting back up again.
I'm making a stand not to live my life in fear anymore. I won't be discouraged by naysayers, nor downtrodden by those who feel challenged by what I stand for or by the success that may come my way. It's like the proverbial kid in the classroom itching to ask the question that is really on every student's mind. I used to be that kid, fearful to ask the question because of what others might think. Now I know that by speaking up, not only am I destined to find my answers, but in the process help others find their answers as well. Courage - it's contagious. Today Michael J. Fox gave it to me, just as I hope to someday give it to others, starting with my children.
Thank you, Carolyn and Jackie, for making me believe that what I have to say matters. Today you are my heroes, along with Michael J. Fox.
"I Never Expected to Inspire Others" Weight Loss Led to a Meaningful Moment with My Son -- By Audri, SparkPeople Member
One day my soul woke up and it was fat! It didn't happen overnight; I wasn't always fat. I had spent the last 11 years eating emotionally. It started with my husband's death. We had been newlyweds. Emotional eating stayed with me long after my wounds began to heal and even after I remarried. It had become a habit. And even though I knew I was hurting myself, I felt powerless to overcome it. Food had control over my life for years, but finally, I decided to live differently. From somewhere came a glimmer of hope that my life could be different.
Then SparkPeople showed up with a soft knock and an invitation: "Can Audri come out and play?" This began a journey of self-discovery I never could have imagined. You see, I didn't realize that year after year, my personality and my future were slowly being buried under a growing layer of fat!
SparkPeople helped me realize for the first time that to be successful I had to make some serious changes. It wasn't enough to make a New Year's resolution and hope for the best. I had to commit to being different…but first I had to believe it was possible. So I started with what I knew to be true. I knew I had not always been fat. I knew others had overcome even greater weight obstacles than mine. Mostly, I knew that through my faith, I could do anything. After acknowledging these things, I felt prepared to commit to whatever it took to conquer myself. Within a week, I came up with the four strategies I would use to set myself up for success.
First, I assessed my battle with food in an honest way. My "If they don't see me eat it, it doesn't count" attitude had to go! Using the Nutrition Tracker, I took a close look at my food choices and it opened my eyes! Over time, I chose to eliminate caffeine, table salt, alcohol, sodas and excessively high fat, high-calorie foods from my diet. Some were harder to let go than others were, but one by one they fell by the wayside in exchange for healthier options.
Second, I stopped hiding my struggle. Those who loved me had known all along anyway—my size 18 wasn't a good disguise. I was only fooling myself. I realized I had fallen into a habit of secretly losing a little weight with the hope that others would notice. When they didn't, I became discouraged and eventually quit. I decided to try a different approach and bring God, my family and friends into the program with me. This way, I was encouraged and held accountable. Eventually, I joined a SparkTeam and even started one of my own.
Third, I set my goals. I set concrete short, medium and long-term goals based on my interests. Some I knew were attainable, like doing cardio four days each week. Some were a stretch, like climbing Mt. Fuji someday—something that would take a lot of hard work to reach. I needed to have something on the horizon to aim at, a target. It was important for it to be realistic enough that I could focus on it instead of my overall weight loss goal. If I had begun by focusing on losing the whole 70 pounds, I would have become overwhelmed and possibly given up.
Fourth, I put a concrete plan in motion to help me succeed. I wrote out my plan on my SparkPage to keep myself accountable. This included making my Nutrition and Fitness Trackers public so others could see what I was tracking. I devoted myself to following my plan, even on the days when I wanted to quit. I determined there were only two choices: to quit or continue. And quitting wasn't an option.
Along the way, a funny thing happened. I found me! Each honest step I took loosened the control food had over me. Once I began to see the fruits of my labor, I realized that I could have done it all along. I had been making excuses and giving away my freedom to choose a better life. Through overcoming the old me, I realized that my personality had been stifled. I wasn't energetic enough to be on the outside the person I was on the inside. Now, I have a zeal that was lost for years. I am alive! I've even tackled new physical challenges and along the way come to think of myself as an athlete. In August, I climbed to the top of Mt. Fuji. And in November, my whole family decided to run the Marine Corps-sponsored Toys for Tots 5K on Yokosuka Naval Base. I'll never forget what happened between my son and me that day.
The horn blew and we started at a good clip, with my young son jogging easily and setting a good pace. It wasn't long before he was ready to slow down a little, and not long after that, he was ready to quit altogether. He had brought a lime green bandanna to wear around his neck but had taken it off. As he was about to give up, I took the bandanna from him and grasped one end tightly. Handing him the other end, I said, "Come on, I won't let go. We can do it together every step of the way." I wanted so desperately for him to overcome all that held him back and simply persevere to the end.
I spoke to him of children who would benefit from what we were doing and of those who walk more than five kilometers just to get a drink of dirty water. We spoke of climbing Mt. Fuji and other challenges that life still holds ahead of us. I pulled and pushed him. I cheered for him. I empathized with him. I shared bits and pieces of life wisdom with him. This was not the first time I had told him that I believe in him, that "You can do it!" Even still, today was different. Today was that opportunity for him to rise above something bigger than he was, and not just to call himself a conqueror, but also to feel it in his spirit.
During the last leg, as we could see the finish line, I was giving him a pep talk. I wish I could recall the exact words I said to him at that moment, but I'll never forget his response: "Yeah, just like YOU believe in me." At that moment, my heart swelled with love and hope. Hope that he will embrace those words and grow to be a confident man who does not fear life's challenges. He confirmed that he does truly listen to me and believes me when I tell him, "I believe in you."
As we neared the finish line, he told me he was ready to sprint. He let go of the green bandanna we had carried together for the last 3 miles and we sprinted together to the finish line. During the whole race, he never stopped moving forward—not once. He had ups and downs, but he never quit. And as we crossed that finish line side-by-side, he became a little more of the adult I will someday know him to be.
After grabbing some water and finding my husband, we stood together to listen to the race results. My softhearted 8-year-old son said to me, "That was the hardest thing I've ever done, but I'm glad I did it." In that moment, I learned the most beautiful truth: Today he came to believe in himself, like SparkPeople helped me believe in myself. This would have never happened had I not wrestled with my food and exercise demon and come out victorious, believing in myself. This moment was made possible by SparkPeople and one life changed—no, make that two.
I realized that perhaps the greatest consequence of my weight loss (60 pounds to date) is that I have the ability to help others in a meaningful way. I never thought I would see the day when others would call me an inspiration. Living as a fat person enabled me to relate better to the struggles of others. I guess those 11 "fat" years weren't completely wasted after all.
Tonight I said to my son, "Delayed obedience is disobedience." Moments after I said those words it occurred to me that I am guilty of the same. What have I delayed that is causing me to be disobedient? How long have I delayed? In some cases only moments have passed. In other cases, years have passed. In still others, my whole life has slipped by without so much as a glimmer of obedience. For example, God has been tugging on my heart and calling me to sing for Him for years. Have I pursued singing with anything other than casual desire? Sadly, no. Why is that? In fact, why do we delay any of the things we do? For me, I think it's fear. Fear of doing that thing I love the most, that I've poured most of myself into, and being told it's still not good enough.
And how often have I given myself a pass on going to the gym instead of obediently going? Too often! Am I throwing out my health and fitness and treating my body like a trashcan more often than not? Are we afraid of never being able to accomplish the goal we've set for ourselves - often some arbitrary number on a scale? How do you overcome the fear of failure and with courage step forward and receive whatever awaits? If I ultimately fail to achieve some arbitrary marker for success, that doesn't mean I have failed. Along the way I will become more of who I am supposed to be. I will gain so much more from simply taking the step and believing that what I'm doing is the right thing, the healthy thing.
So what about that arbitrary marker for success - a number on the scale. We strive like mad to reach that number. Sometimes we do it hoping to succeed, but expecting to fail. We set ourselves up for a self-fulfilling prophecy. We are what we think we are, either failure, or success. If we reach one number shy of the one we're shooting for on that scale, but have still lost 40 pounds, are we really a failure? Of course not!
Maybe it's time to shed the fear of failure, fear of change, fear of the unknown, fear of discomfort, fear of disappointment (either our own or someone else's), and simply take that step forward. We have to believe that we are moving in the right direction - striving for something great than ourselves...and for something greater than that number on our scale. Remember that the journey is more important than the destination.
The long wait is finally over as I delivered my twins in July. The doctor cleared me to get back to my fitness routine and I have to admit, walking back into the fitness center wasn't as exciting as I'd hoped it would be. Being sleep-deprived with newborns and feeling sluggish from the extra weight I'm now carrying left me feeling "unmotivated." Then I decided to take away my choice for anything other than change.
Now-a-days we all have too many choices. Come on. How many salad dressings do we really need to choose from? So I decided that there was only one choice to make - to move in the only direction I could that would make me healthy. That included getting my workout clothes on and going to the gym. Once I thought of it in terms of "the decision is already made", all I had to do was comply. How easy is that - to comply? It should be easy. I'm only acting in accordance with my own wish, which is to lose this weight. That's all complying is.
I started thinking about motivation and questioned whether I had it or not. I may have even written on this subject before. Don't many of us say those words, "I'm just not motivated."? What does that mean? To have no motivation. We need to understand what motivation truly is before we can say unequivocally that we don't have it.
The root word for motivation is "motive". In the dictionary, motive is referred to as something that "causes a person to act in a certain way or do a certain thing", an "incentive." It also says a motive is "the goal or object of a person's actions."
SHAZAM! I do have it! In fact, according to this definition, we ALL have motivation. For some of us, our incentive is to reach a certain dress or pant size. For others, our incentive is to reach for another cookie. We cannot use the age old excuse that we "have no motivation." That's a crock. The choice is ours.
What will be the goal or object of our actions. Is our goal to stay comfortably on the couch watching our favorite show? Is our goal to eat that comfort food because it takes away our pain or our boredom? Is our goal to save ourselves from disappointment because the task of losing weight seems insurmountable? We're all motivated by something. What is your incentive - A.K.A. - motivation?
I don't have to be a rocket scientist to figure out that my incentives include: being healthy, feeling great, living longer, setting a good example for my kids and others, and building my confidence. These ARE my motivation and they only scratch the surface. Of course, looking good and getting an occasional cat call from my husband isn't a bad incentive either. Now it's just a matter of developing a plan to achieve these things.
To that end, I'm back to my tried and true formula. The one that helped me shed 61 pounds before I became pregnant with the twins. The great thing is that it's no secret, only healthy food and regular exercise. Who knew it could be that simple. Now all I have to do it simply comply! :) Are you ready and willing to do the same?
I am writing from my hospital bed at the US Naval Hospital in Okinawa. I was admitted on June 8th because I went into preterm labor at 31 weeks. I will be here until I deliver. I'll update my page again once I deliver.
I'm feeling great! The closer I get to delivering, the more excited I get about a number of things. Meeting our babies is of course the most exciting part. In addition, I know it signals the beginning of a new fitness routine. When I had my son in 1999, I wasn't very active, but this time will be different. I have already set new goals to strive for - goals I'm excited to get to work on.
According to my doctor, I should be cleared in time to climb Mt. Fuji again this season. My husband and son are going up at the end of August. I plan to be there as long as I'm cleared to climb. That is going to be the first of many mini-goals I'll be using to hopefully propel myself toward the finish line at the Marine Corps Marathon in the fall of next year.
It's funny, I was looking at my legs a couple days ago. The swelling in my ankles and feet is gone. They are going to be back to running in no time at all. Only this time they'll be hoofing it behind a jogging stroller. I'll be ready to reclaim my body.
This process I'll be going through is all the more exciting because I've done it before. I'm looking forward to seeing the progress and making those milestones again, one dress size at a time. In the end, I know I'm going to be in the best shape of my life! History has shown me how good it feels to be healthy. I seem to glow inside and out when I'm taking care of my body.
The other part that I'm thrilled about is the example I'll be setting for my 9.5-year-old son, as well as my twins. I didn't show my son good fitness and nutrition habits when he was young. It took time to help him adjust his decision-making when it came to food. This time around I know we'll be making better decisions as a family and raising the twins with different habits.
For now, I'm focusing on getting through the next several weeks mostly bed-ridden. My goal here is to challenge and inspire the staff as they take care of me. I want to listen and uplift along the way, be a great patient, and minister to each person who walks through my door. I want to leave behind much more than my used hospital gown. I want to leave a mark.
I hope you all are making a difference in your own lives . . . and leaving your own positive mark on all those you encounter. This is one of the aspects of Spark People that makes it so successful and uplifting.
I wish you all the best in your nutrition, fitness, and making YOUR mark. :)
Today was a beautiful and inspiring day, none of which would have been possible had I not wrestled with my food and exercise demon and come out victorious - had I not come out believing in myself. This moment is brought to you by Spark People and one life changed...no, make that two.
The Marine Corps sponsored a Toys for Tots 5K today on Yokosuka Naval Base. My whole family decided to run it together. The entry fee was a new unwrapped toy for every participant. So, first, we went shopping before heading to the starting line. There were lessons to be learned, but not among the toys.
The horn blew and we started at a good clip, with my son jogging easily and setting a good pace. It wasn't long before he was ready to slow a little, then not much after that when he was ready to quit altogether. He had brought a lime green bandanna to wear around his neck but had taken it off. As he was about to give up, I took the bandanna from him and grasped one end tightly. Handing him the other end, I said, "Come on, I won't let go...we can do it together every step of the way." I wanted so desperately for him to overcome all that held him back and simply persevere.
I spoke to him of children who would benefit from this thing we were doing and of those who walk more than 5 kilometers just to get a drink of dirty water. We spoke of Mt. Fuji and other challenges that life ahead still holds. I pulled and pushed him. I cheered him. I empathized with him. I shared bits and pieces of life wisdom with him. This is not the first time I've told him I believe in him . . ."You CAN do it!" Even still, today was different. Today was that opportunity for him to rise above something bigger than himself and not just to call himself a conqueror, but to feel it in his spirit.
During the last leg, as we could see the finish line, I was giving him a pep talk. I wish I could recall the exact thing I said to him at that moment, but I'll never forget his response..."Yeah, just like YOU believe in me." At that moment, my heart swelled with love and hope - hope that he will embrace those words and grow to be confident, not fearing life's challenges. He confirmed that he truly listens to me and believes me when I've said, "I believe in you."
As we neared the finish line, he told me he was ready to sprint. He let go of the green bandanna we had carried together for the last 3 miles and we sprinted together to the finish line. During the whole race, he never once stopped moving forward. He had his ups and downs, but he never quit and as we crossed that finish line side-by-side, he became a little more of the adult I will someday know him to be.
After grabbing some water and finding my husband, we stood together to listen to the race results. My soft-hearted eight-year-old son said to me, "That was the hardest thing I've ever done - I'm glad I did it." In that moment, I learned the most beautiful truth . . . today he came to believe in himself.
My goal of climbing Mt. Fuji came about quite by accident. Actually, it's my son's fault. While creating my vision collage, he stumbled upon a photo of Mt. Fuji. I thought it would make a great center photo since it was large. As my collage took shape around the photo, it occurred to me that I could make climbing that mountain my goal. Voila! I had my first lofty, long-term goal. At least it seemed pretty long-term at the time.
Just after making my collage, I met a woman on eBay. She was selling some workout DVDs, which I purchased from her. In the process of communicating with her over the purchase, we found some common ground and began e-mailing one another on a regular basis. It is this woman, my newfound friend, who took a leap of faith six months later and flew halfway around the world to climb a mountain with me.
Three days after meeting in person for the first time, we headed out at 12:30 a.m. to catch our bus for Hakone National Park, where Fuji is located. We drove an hour, caught our bus, and rode another three hours to get to our starting point. With walking sticks in hand, we headed out on an adventure that would strengthen the bonds of friendship. Within minutes the rain came.
The path began easily enough. Our bus had dropped us off at station 5 and before long, we were greeted with a nice view, looking down on the clouds. We walked along on flat ground, talking about our strategy for pacing ourselves. Soon enough, the terrain began to change. During our 6-hour and 15-minute ascent, we zigged and zagged upward. We climbed stairs. We climbed steep boulders. We climbed in loose gravel. Occasionally, we stopped for electrolyte water or organic energy bars or to simply take a short rest. The rests got longer and more frequent the closer we got to the top, but I'm getting ahead of myself.
As we ascended, we passed a variety of people going both ways. One Japanese man even had a toddler on his back. I couldn't help but wonder if he had made it to the top. In retrospect, I don't think he did, but at the time I marveled at his accomplishment.
About 20 minutes into our climb, I asked my friend to pray with me. I gave the climb to God. I asked him to give us the strength to climb this literal mountain, as well as for protection. My friend and I spoke briefly about believing in angels. She felt she had received confirmation of a guardian angel just before we got on the bus. After our prayer, my step quickened. I felt a burst of energy propelling me forward. At that moment, I was more sure than ever that the mountain was already conquered, though my body slowed, my head certainly kept up the mental momentum!
We stopped at every mountain hut to have our walking sticks branded with a unique design. With each stamp, I grew more determined. Inevitably, we would stumble across people from our bus and we'd have a brief exchange. Several times we exchanged "ganbatte" with Japanese people. This word means "do your best" or "go for it."
There are ten stations on Fuji, with the tenth at the top. Around the 8th station, my hands began to get really cold and one of my fingers had turned yellow - a symptom of my Reynaud's Syndrome. I worked to get my circulation back, then put on my gloves and kept trucking. Around this time, we rounded the corner of one of the mountain huts and came face-to-face with a steep wall of rocks. My first reaction was, "YES! Let's do this thing!" In fact, this was a scenario that replayed itself numerous times. Each time, I had a similar "oh yeah!" reaction. It was my own way of cheering myself along. It worked for me.
Somewhere about halfway to station 9 I began to experience some altitude sickness. At first, I only felt slightly dizzy. Obviously, the dizziness only got worse the higher I moved. Within about 30 minutes, I also felt nauseous. We stopped, drank, and ate, then began again. We moved more slowly. Though my friend was not experiencing the same effects, she was an amazing support throughout this process. Together, we worked through it taking five steps while breathing deeply, then stopping for two deep breaths. Eventually, I did begin to feel better and our pace quickened somewhat.
For the last 1.5 hours or so, the wind and rain picked up. A storm was rolling in. At times, the wind was so harsh that we had to brace ourselves against our walking sticks and lean heavily into the wind to keep from being blown over. Just when I thought the climb was never-ending, we ascended the last flight of stairs, passing under a red, Shinto tori gate. We had arrived!
We stood in line to have our walking stick stamped with two special red stamps, then stepped out to find the crater. The wind was blowing so hard and fog was covering the crater. It had become dangerous and we were told not to go to the crater. We could not have seen it anyway. We planned to travel around the edge for however much time we had left, but ultimately could not for safety reasons. It was hard to come all that way and not see the crater and the view around Fuji.
After making a quick bathroom break, which was really a squatter, we bought some fresh, dry gloves, took some pictures at the pillar monument, and decided to head down.
Compared to the ascent, the descent was only 2 hours 45 minutes. It was also zig-zagged, though the terrain never changed. It was loose lava, pea-sized gravel. My toes pushed into the toe of my boots. Over time, my big toes became quite sore. In the end, I finished the descent with one cracked toenail and a blister between two toes. Not bad, I think.
During the hike down, I realized we were surrounded by some beautiful plants. They were so lime green that they almost appeared to glow. The rocks were lovely as well - a rainbow of colors, but mostly red and turquoise.
There was one truly inspiring story I saw unfolding on that mountain. On the descent, we passed a young Japanese girl moving very slowly while her family encouraged her. This girl had one foot that was inverted, like a club foot - yet she made it up that mountain! My friend and I wanted to cry. It made all our obstacles pale in comparison.
Once down the mountain, we stopped for something to eat and did a little souvenir shopping. I had an "American dog," a.k.a. corn dog. It was much different from a true American corn dog, but I was thankful for it. Finally, I stopped at the post office to mail a few postcards before heading back to the bus.
I slept awhile on the ride back to base and woke up just as they were playing a video - "Touching the Void." It's a documentary about the perilous and near-fatal climb of two friends. It was an appropriate topic and made me wonder if I could ever do the kind of climbing required to scale a 20,000-foot mountain. I'm not convinced that's an undertaking for me, but I won't rule it out. Like Confucius said, "the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step." This was my single step. I'm just not sure yet where the journey will lead. I'm excited to find out!
When I was little, I recall my mom saying on more than one occasion," don't make a mountain out of a molehill." She was teaching me to assess a situation honestly, not exaggerating the intensity of the problem.
I believe this attitude has helped me conquer many obstacles in life. Some of them have truly been "molehills," while others have been mountains. My molehills and mountains have consisted of things like moving around the world every three years, deployments, family illnesses, college, miscarriage, molestation at 12, and widowhood at 23.
On August 23, I climbed Mt. Fuji. It was the most physically difficult thing I've ever done in my life. At times I felt my body wouldn't make it. I was pushed to what I thought was the limit of my capabilities, and yet I conquered that 12,388-foot mountain! Though the altitude, wind, rain, and cold took a toll on me physically, mentally those obstacles had become molehills to me. I had given myself no other option than to see the top of that mountain!
If I had stopped years ago and applied this logic and tenacity to my obesity, I imagine I would have conquered that sooner as well. I was perfectly capable of literally climbing a mountain. The problem was that I had turned my weight into a figurative mountain so much larger-than-life, that my mind could not overcome it. Now, I realize that it was my mind preventing me from succeeding at my weight loss, not physical limitations. Turning molehills into mountains helped me defeat myself before I even got started!
So, today is a celebration - a celebration of overcoming great obstacles! I glow with joy for reaching the top of my literal mountain. Mostly though, I glow from the realization that somewhere deep inside me is the strength and fortitude to overcome obstacles both large and small. See, the important lesson my mom taught me is not to determine which is a mountain and which is a molehill, but that I can conquer them all.
I was thinking today about the who's, what's, when's, where's, why's and how's of life. Others think on these as well and they can either make or break your success, not only in your journey to greater health, but in life in general. It all comes back to the question of our internal dialogue, that is, what we say to ourselves. Are we our greatest fan - a veritable built-in pep squad, or are we our greatest disappointment - undermining our intentions with hateful talk we would never perpetrate on others?
Maybe you already know which you are - the architect or the wrecking ball. Then again, maybe you don't. If not, see which of these questions most resembles your attitude.
Look out! Here comes the wrecking ball!
Who even cares if I lose weight or not? What difference is it going to make? Where is my motivation going to come from? I don't have any! When am I going to find the time to eat healthy and exercise? Why do I bother? I'm never going to lose weight. I'm a yo-yo! How am I going to get the weight off? I'm too far gone!
Now, here's the architect!
Who is going to be positively affected by my healthy lifestyle? What changes do I need to make to be successful? Where can I turn to for support when I need it? When I stumble, are my coping strategies strong enough to help? Why is it important for me to change my life? How am I going to feel when I reach my goals?
So, which one are you - the architect or the wrecking ball? Today is the day to figure it out and take some positive steps to turn your attitude around!
Excuses, excuses. Some people thrive on making them. In fact, often we spend more time honing our excuses than the time it would take to actually do something productive. Why do we waste this perfectly good time? How much of life have we missed out on as a result?
Many of our failures in life are related to fear. Fear fosters a failure to act, which means automatic failure. So, in order to get where we want to go and overcome this failure to act, we have to understand what is motivating our fear. Is it fear of failure? Fear of embarrassment? Fear of sub-par performance? Fear of injury? Fear of judgment? The list goes on. To move forward to greater health, adventure, and success, we must identify the fear that is fueling our inactivity. We all have likely personified one or more of the fears listed above at various points in our lives. But how do we know when we are being ruled by fear? It's my conclusion that fear often manifests itself as excuses.
Excuses are a powerful symptom of fear and differ from reasons. Reason is defined (in part) as sound judgment or good sense; to think through logically. By contrast, excuse is defined (in part) as a pretext or subterfuge. Subterfuge is evading a rule, escaping a consequence, or "dodging." So, here is the real question. Are we using excuses or "dodging" those things that would get us active and healthy or are our excuses truly legitimate reasons.
Today is the day to determine once and for if our fears are what stand in our way of reaching our goals. There's no better day than today to stop undermining our own success. It's time to sweep away the lingering excuses and push forward toward the prize! Like Mom said when I was a kid, "Can't never did!"
Today's healthy reflection called us to think about leading a successful flock. Who is my flock? In a nutshell, my flock is anyone who looks to me for love, support, guidance, mentoring, friendship, encouragement, or inspiration. So, who does this consist of?
The first of my flock is my son. My adorable 8.5-year-old little man who is soaking up lessons like a sponge. I can't always tell which ones he's internalizing, but I'm hopeful they're the healthy ones. Certainly, he's learning my bad habits along the way as well. That is why I'm working diligently to rid my life of said nasty habits. Oh, there is the standard talking with your mouth full, saying "excuse me" when you burp, those kinds of things, but the nasty habits I'm referring to are the more insidious ones. I'm talking about making unhealthy choices regarding nutrition and exercise that can and do lay waste to one's energy, self-esteem, and control - in essence to the whole body and mind. It occurs to me that one might not realize the true weight of the insidious nature of these bad choices. The dictionary refers to insidious as "operating or proceeding in an inconspicuous or seemingly harmless way but actually with grave effect" or "beguiling but harmful; alluring." This perfectly describes what I did to my body for years. Everyone has to eat - it's food for the body. Food was my lure. I was an emotional eater and couldn't see how the choices I made were setting me up for future weight problems. I let myself use food as a crutch for all my ailments, mostly emotional. I just couldn't find a way of mimicking the joy I had when eating that Almond Joy or whatever happened to be in my hand at that moment.
Fast forward . . . Now I am a mom to this wonderfully complex, fun-loving, warm, and EMOTIONAL 8.5-year-old boy. Am I looking at myself in the mirror? It's only been the last six months that I've finally come to understand the following about myself and food: * My personality contributed to my being an emotional eater. * I was using food to fill in the holes in my soul, not just the ones in my stomach. * Our culture revolves socially around food. * To overcome my attachment to food as anything other than sustenance I have to be introspective - knowing when and why I make the choice to turn to food even when I'm not hungry. * I could make all the excuses in the world, but my life would not change until I acknowledged my relationships with both food and people and made a firm commitment to healthy change. * I have the free will to choose. The decision is all mine and it's all about choices!
So, how much of my unhealthy habits have I spent the last 8 years teaching my son? I know the ones I've modeled and at times they've been pretty unhealthy. It is my sincere hope that the last 6 months have begun to instill in him the foundation for a healthy future. Don't get me wrong. I don't feel that I've ruined him. I'm not ready to brand myself as a terrible mom. It's just that I'm more prepared now to lead him in a direction he should go . . . following the road paved with healthy choices and healthful living! And just think, he's only one of the people in my flock! Boy, do I have my work cut out! :)
In my previous post about learning to swim, I noted that I learned how to flow through the water straighter by looking at the stripe on the bottom of the pool instead of trying to look forward. It occurs to me that this is a great metaphor for reaching one's life goals.
When swimming, trying to look forward to the end of the pool instead of looking down has two consequences. First, the act of raising your head to look forward causes your legs to drop down in the water, making you slightly more vertical than horizontal. Second, the new leg position creates drag, which slows you down. (This gives whole new meaning to another phrase I heard as a kid . . . "stop dragging your feet.")
Apply this to life. Looking forward, instead of focusing on the tasks at hand changes our focus from the present to the future. The act of changing that focus has a dual effect. First, we stop paying attention to what we're doing. Then, our change of focus makes us slow down in the race to reach our goals.
What if we just put our heads in the game, and stay focused on that "line on the bottom of the pool?" What would happen? I mean, those lines on the bottom of the pool ARE there for a reason, right? Yes! I think what would happen is three-fold. 1. We would stay on the right path - not straying from our goals. 2. In spite of not seeing the end of that line (since we aren't looking up) we would still know when we get to the end of the lane. We know because our line ends, bringing us to the end of our goal. 3. We would ultimately get there quicker.
Identification is the first step toward change. So are we slowing ourselves down? How are we sabotaging our own goals by creating "drag" in our lives?
Yesterday marked a milestone in my life; one I thought I'd never reach. After 36 years, I finally made the decision to learn to swim - really swim. I've watched others do it correctly and was always impressed with how smoothly and confidently they moved through the water. Each time I would think, "Wow, I wish I could do that!"
Since I was a little girl I've had a healthy respect for water. Okay, I'll call a spade a spade, it was really a fear. I was afraid of drowning. Sometimes I was just afraid of getting water up my nose and experiencing that annoying burning sensation. I let these things intimidate me into not trying. Oh, I would get in the water and even swim a pretty good sidestroke, but I could not put my head under without holding my nose and closing my eyes or using goggles.
Something came over me yesterday, so I approached a lifeguard at our pool, asked a few questions, and got a few answers. The journey had begun. If there is one thing I've learned through Spark People it's that armed with information, anyone can turn their life around. So, with this new information and the guidance of a lifeguard on her break, I threw myself into the pool and into learning this life skill.
With a little practice and boldness, I was able to overcome my previous anxieties and learn a variety of new skills. 1. How to hold a breath and submerge without water going up my nose - and without blowing bubbles. 2. How to flow through the water straighter by looking at the stripe on the bottom of the pool instead of trying to look forward. 3. How to breathe to the side while doing a freestyle swim.
Those may not sound like grand milestones to a comfortable swimmer. Rest assured they were huge for me. I practiced for the rest of our time at the pool and came away with a few other pieces of knowledge as well. 1. Even though I've not accomplished it by now doesn't mean I never will. I just have to apply myself. 2. Knowledge can break through many barriers, in swimming and in life. 3. Tackling something I am fearful of (and certain I'll never be able to do) and finding I am wrong creates courage and momentum to strive for other difficult goals. 4. Like my mom always said to me when I was young - "Can't never did!" 5. I have much more fun with my son at the pool as a result of being more comfortable in the water.
Though my journey with Spark People started out as a quest to lose weight, it has turned into so much more. So here I am, 36 years old and overcome with the feeling that a very large part of me just grew up. Did Spark People help me learn to swim? Not directly, but I can safely say that the feeling of accomplishment I've gained through losing 49 pounds (so far) has propelled me toward the search for other areas of my life where I've been selling myself short. I'm now on a quest to boldly go where I've never gone before. What's even better - I'm looking forward to the trip with excitement and wonder, instead of fear and trepidation.
It was my first karate exam. Where do I begin? The experience was nearly overwhelming. Maybe it was the fact that I was the only foreigner in the building, surrounded by hundreds of Japanese people, none of whom spoke English during the three-hour event. Talk about complete cultural immersion. It was scary, nerve-wracking, confusing, and yet amazing!
My last karate class had been nearly four weeks earlier because I was traveling. I had questions for my sensei, but with the language barrier, we had a difficult time communicating. In the end, he just said "daijobu," which means "it's okay." He was telling me not to worry. That was a tall order at the time when I was anxious to understand the process and do well. All of the commands were given in Japanese, most of which I did not understand. When the judge approached our group and gave information, I didn't get it. When the person calling out our movements spoke, I mostly had to rely on knowing which move came next, memorization, not understanding her command.
After much observation and intent focus, I took my test. I felt like all eyes were on me - the only American in the room. I felt a combination of anxiety and honor. I wanted to perform my kata beautifully and show the judges, my sensei, and everyone present that I value Wado-Ryu karate for what it is - the way of harmony. Of course, I wasn't feeling as harmonious inside as I should have been. I wanted to be confident, yet not arrogant. In the future, I will be more prepared now that I understand the process. It's not so foreign to me anymore.
The whole experience was awe-inspiring. I'm ready for the challenges that lie ahead. In fact, to help me better understand the way of karate, I've begun reading the autobiography of Gichin Funakoshi. Living in Japan has been an opportunity of a lifetime and now I'm learning a new side of Japanese culture. I've recently begun to understand how a person can dedicate an entire lifetime to the perfection of subtle movements. It is changing my focus, inspiring calmness and patience, and turning me into a more rounded person.
I look forward to the remaining time I have with Ohta sensei. In the beginning, it was about attaining a goal of a particular belt color. Now I'm just so happy to be molded by him, that the belt is of no consequence. It is a matter of perfecting my form. What a beautiful analogy for life in general. Now I must think about all the areas of my life where this can be applied, beginning with my walk with God.
