I raced in the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure

I *did* it. I set a goal, and I made it. I've been doing the October TRick or TReat Trot training program, and Saturday was my race!

I wanted to do a real 5k for my first time, and lo and behold, my city's annual Race for the Cure popped up. So I signed up. I didn't expect much, just to walk, go home, and be proud.

Honestly though, I found the entire experience to be electric. There were more than 4,000 runners there, and the atmosphere was just incredibly charged with emotion. I found myself randomly tearing up while waiting for the race to start, and a few times while walking, just moved by the power of the whole experience. I walked alongside survivors in their dark pink shirts, supporters, people who've lost friends and loved ones to breast cancer, and people who have been touched.

My aunt Kathy (who isn't really an aunt, but might as well be) is a breast cancer survivor.

My grandmother Ninney is a breast cancer survivor.

My great-grandmother Gamie was a breast cancer survivor.

These wonderful women were who I raced for. I can't describe the feeling I had when I was done, walking back to my car, and I saw a group of four survivors walking by. I teared up, raised my hand, and shouted, "You go ladies!" And they smiled, waved, and thanked me, and meant it.

My first 5k wasn't only an accomplishment for me to be truly proud of, it was a spiritual experience. I wasn't even done walking, and I was already plotting to RUN next year's race. Not to challenge myself, but to do more for these incredible women who were celebrating their fights and lives.

Nothing seems quite as important when you're walking behind a woman whose hair is still growing back from her chemotherapy, to revel in the power of her life as she's walking with thousands of others in a fight to make many more like her.

I raced for the cure. And I won. Sure, I was far from first, but I won something so much more special than a medal or recognition. I can't even quantify it, and I've been floating ever since. I was a part of something truly amazing, and it was nothing short of intense.

I've never lost a loved one to breast cancer, though it has touched my life in many, many ways, as it has threatened a lot of people I hold dear to me. I'm at risk myself, with a strong family history, so much so it played in to my decision to breastfeed my children (nursing lowers your cancer risk.) But I cried today for women I've never met, who have been lost to this disease. The feeling of joy and sadness was a physical thing at the race.

I've never been so proud of 57:15 in my life.

Amazing how no exercise makes you feel ick.

I didn't exercise at all this weekend; it's been a steady stream of soloing at parenting, trips to the ER (husband has been very, very sick lately) and just plain being unmotivated. I got another "are you pregnant?" comment from one of the deli ladies at the grocery store.

I got to the gym this morning feeling unenergetic, and not really wanting to go. However, although I missed my last day of week 4, it's time for me to start the final week of the Trick or Treat Trot training plan. I think I'm actually going to modify it, because it's based on the premise that I'm going to be walking Friday/Saturday in my 5k, but I joined a Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure 5k on the 15th. So I might repeat my week 4 training, since I missed a day anyway.

On the eating front, it was also a pretty bad weekend. I was stressed, so I overindulged in some empty calories (stupid sodas.)

I pushed through my workout this morning, though, even though I REALLY didn't want to finish it. About 2/3 of the way through, I started to feel better, and the last half mile wasn't so bad.

I think I might try another walk this afternoon after I pick up Elisabeth from school, so I can get our blood pumping. Depends on the temperature, though. Though technically Fall has started... it's still in the low 90s outside, and with all this (much needed) rain we've been having, it's muggy as hell.

I wish my 6 year old could work out with me at the gym.

Bad weekend gets worse

I've been posting over at my blog on Sparkpeople, but I keep forgetting to repost here! I won't just copy everything, but I will summarize what's been going on lately.

It's been a bad weekend, and a worse week.

It started out great; Friday was hard, for a variety of reasons; suffice it to say I was taking care of three kids instead of my usual two. ;) Saturday was awesome. I attended a writer's workshop (for free) and went to the Ocmulgee Indian Festival that evening.

Sunday though... Sunday went to hell. The girls were outside playing, as they do almost every day. All of a sudden, I hear one of my dogs raising hell, and my youngest daughter started screaming.

I go outside to see my 10 year old basset hound/cocker spaniel mix attacking my three year old. She was covered in blood, cowered, and he was trying to go for her throat. I snatched him off and tossed him off the porch, putting myself between her and the dog. My husband came out, and when he grabbed the dog by the scruff of the neck to carry him back to the back yard to be tied up, the dog bit him, too.

I took my daughters to the ER, and told him the dog was to be gone by the time I got back.

Countless hours later, I was back, the dog was buried in the back yard, and we managed to avoid stitches entirely. She's on a round of antibiotics. I hardly ate anything that day, so I was well under my calorie count.

Monday, I forgot to eat breakfast AND lunch. Not good. I did make an amazing pot of chicken and dumplings for supper, though, even though I didn't eat a lot of it. It was so good!

The problem with Monday was when animal control called and told me that they had to have the body of the dog for rabies testing.

My husband was at the hospital for a kidney stone. And collapsed on his way out of the hospital in a panic attack, so got stuck for a few more hours.

So I had to dig up my beloved pet, throw him in a trash bag, and give him to an animal control officer by myself.

I'd really, really rather not ever have to deal with a bloadsoaked child, exhume a dead pet, and do it all while dealing with an incapacitated husband in the hospital.

So... today. I ended up sleeping in, not taking my daughter to school or going to the gym, because my husband went BACK to the ER in the middle of the night last night because the kidney stone got stuck.

I also skipped my kickboxing class tonight because I couldn't leave my husband alone with my kids in his state.

So. I'm undereating, not exercising enough, and feeling like poo.

I do, however, have a plan.

I will attend at least two others classes this week. Tomorrow, I will do the ab class in the morning. I'll choose another class at some point... I think Zumba's Thursday, so I might try that out.

I will go to the gym tonight after the girls are in bed to do some crosstraining, probably on the stationary bike, maybe some strength training.

I will not kill my family for having a bad week. It's not their fault they need me.

On a bright note, I got a lovely necklace at the Indian Festival. It was handmade by a Native American, and it's got an eagle. I've always been very drawn to birds of prey. I don't want to be so presumptuous as to say it's my "totem", but it's also the subject of my favorite scripture, which I wear on a leather bracelet every day. (Isaiah 40:31, if you're interested.) It was also my dad's favorite scripture.

Anyway, here it is. I just love this necklace.

The Good, the Bad, and... well, that's it, really.

This has been both a good weekend, and a bad one. The bad first:

I haven't exercised since Thursday. Labor day weekend just screwed up my routine, and I gave in to the loving "encouragement" from my husband to just "take a day off." After my wonderful Thursday trip, I've done nothing. I feel sluggish and icky, and can't wait until the morning when I can run off my blues. I'm probably going to stay for an ab class, too, so I'll need to drop kiddo off early so I can have time to walk my 5k your way goal.

Now, for the good:

I've conquered the calorie mountain, all weekend! I planned ahead for a bad meal or two, and my net result is that I am STILL under goal for the day, which leaves me just enough room for a bedtime snack. :) I would skip it, but my tummy's a bit growly, so I'm probably going to fix myself a slice of toast or something.

I'm proud of myself... even though I helped myself to FOUR (count 'em) slices of pizza, I didn't eat the crusts (I didn't subtract the calories from my count, though, I had trouble counting calories from my salad at lunch), and my good choices early in the day gave my waistline some wiggle room.

I still don't believe my husband's insistence that I look amazing already (I mean, please, it's 3 lbs, not 30) but it makes me feel good.

What I'm waiting for? The comments from people I haven't seen in a while: "You look great, have you lost weight?"

I want to smile, and declare, "Yes, I did!"