There's Badass . . . And Then There's Bad Ass



Did she just say "un-shitty?"

 By now you know that I believe two things about life:

1. You can always find a way to look on the bright side. 



2. That doesn't mean that a situation isn't still shitty.  It just means you're choosing to find something un-shitty about it.

I'm still recovering from my vertigo attack. I'm exhausted from that, and I'm trying the medication that's supposed to help with my inner ear AND blood pressure.  I have only worked out once this week.  It has been impossible to get up before 7am most mornings and I've worked a few late nights and had prior commitments on others. 

Ugh.

So, about that one workout so far . . .

Wednesday night I headed out to WTF with my ride and run gear, fully intending to complete a brick since my 11-hour day at work on Tuesday prevented me from doing my Murdolator ride/run on Tuesday night.  As I've said, I am in no shape to be going on some of these rides, but I keep going because I am convinced that, EVENTUALLY, going on them will turn me into a Badass. 

I usually get to these rides totally pumped up (and, I will admit, a little afraid), hoping to keep up with the break a little and stay completely out of my comfort zone for at least 15-20 of the 30 miles.  Last night, however, I just wasn't up to it.  I saw the break form around mile 5, tried to get on The Pain Train right away, and instantly crashed.

I didn't feel like a Badass.  I felt like Bad Ass.

When I got done, we were all talking about the ride, and one of the guys reminded me of something.  "Remember, just last summer, when the farthest you'd ever ridden was like 60-70 miles?  And didn't you just do another century?" 

Pace Report: 2010-2012

He was right; I have come a long, long way.  Looking down at my computer, I saw that I'd averaged 19.14mph for the 30 miles.  I had done most of the ride alone, and I hadn't felt good, and I'd still averaged almost 20.  You can see on the right how my average pace for cycling and running have climbed over the past 2 years.

(Side note - my swimming is faster but so infinitesimally! Almost unchanged !@*!#!)

But I still felt more like Bad Ass than a Badass, so I skipped my run and headed home to dinner.  In the process, I stepped on the scale. 

When I did, I almost fell off. 

The number looking back at me hasn't shown up in almost 3 years.  If I lose less than one more pound, I'll be at a weight I haven't seen in 6 years, and I won't be racing Athena anymore.

I have had a ton of breakthroughs in the past few months.  Speed, distance, weight.  A lot of people assume this all happened recently - but, like my training, it is the product of 6 years of hard work.   Forcing myself to get up when I don't feel great but still respect the weeks where I really need to rest; not giving up when my speed increases and weight loss are so much slower than the norm.  (It took me 3 years to break a 9-minute mile in a race and 5 years to break 20 on the bike, and my weight loss has progressed at the breakneack speed of 1ish pounds per month.)

And a lot of it has been slowed by my battles with the most annoying of my health issues (including my latest addition to the mix).  I rest WAY more than most people, and I have to take a complete week off every few months. 

In spite of that, it is starting to come together and I'm finally feeling like a healthy, athletic person.

Or maybe because of it.

Now, more than ever, I am thankful for all my illnesses, setbacks, and health problems.  Here is why.

1.       Having one more issue to add to the pile used to dishearten and frustate me.  Now, every time someone says, "You can't!" I get feisty and cantankerous and say, "Watch me."  It's just another reason to be determined.
2.       I did not appreciate how good it felt to win, PR, or just log a 13-hour workout week until I had felt bad enough to NOT win, NOT PR, and not have a 3-hour workout week.
3.       I know I am only improving my heartbeat, weight, cholesterol, blood glucose, blood pressure, energy levels, and the way my body feels and looks.  If I wasn't doing all these things,
4.       Focusing on my health versus my weight has taken the obsession out of eating and allowed me to enjoy food again.
5.       Focusing on my fitness versus my weight has allowed me to eat more or less what I like. 
(These last two are kind of a big deal for a former disordered eater.)

Maybe you can feel like Bad Ass and still be a Badass.