Week 1, Day 1

I started the Couch to 5k program again tonight.  It’s been since September of last year that I’ve run at all.  So it’s been a while to say the least.  Since September, we went on the trip of a life time, had holidays with friends and family, experienced a close friend have a baby, got pregnant with our first baby, felt that excitement for ourselves and at least 5 other close friends this winter/spring, felt the pain and emptiness of our family journey end, and got to see two close friends begin a relationship together that satisfies our souls for their future.

So needless to say, starting Week 1, Day 1 means more than just running.  I’ve gained 22 pounds back from the 50 I lost last year.  11 of that was from Paris and the holidays and 12 was from my time being pregnant.  While I was out running tonight, I had a bit of an epiphany.  People throw that term around too much, for emphasis no doubt, and I’m among that number.  I realized why people get fat.  I could say that with more tact, but I tried a few sentences and they all sounded stupid.  And I should clarify by “people” I mean me.

Two weeks ago on Tuesday, we received the news that we’d lost our baby.  Don’t worry, this won’t get too uncomfortable.  I was pretty much robotic about it and my first thought was honestly about conversations I’d had with God during my pregnancy that this was in His hands and however long He decided to bless me with this experience, I’d accept it.  After that first thought, I went through a few crazy ones that I felt then but don’t now, and didn’t cry for a few hours.  Just got the information, processed it, held Matt’s hand and took the next few steps toward the difficult decisions we would have to make.  It wasn’t until I was put through physical pain in my prep procedure that I cried.  Physical pain reduces you to that sad child on the sidewalk with a skinned knee.  To that vulnerable child that falls and then promptly looks around for someone to console him.  This vulnerability took down my adult tough-gal walls and I wept.  Throughout those next few days, I was able to cry as much as I needed to and I think that first feeling of pain was what made it possible for me.   Through all our times crying, after each I felt more renewed and a little less pitiful.

So while I began the running program tonight, I was hardened off.  I thought, “This will suck but I’ve done it before so let’s do this.”  While I was in the second or third running stretch, I felt some pain in my legs and I welled up with tears.  I started to feel sorry for myself, for my situation, for the past couple weeks, for everything.  And I realized that this was precisely why I’d gained back some weight.  You don’t feel a thing when you’re just sitting around, when you expend little energy, when you don’t push yourself.  You sit blissfully numb.  Where there’s no pain, there’s no crying and for some, becoming unhealthy is worth it to spare those raw feelings that seem so hard to bear. I realize for others, there may be different reasons, but for me, this is it.  Physical pain brings up a lot of stuff that you may or may not want to deal with.  For me, it conjured up all the ways I felt deficient.  It’s hard to deal with that, but I know that each time I get out there, suck it up and go through the pain, that I will heal.  I’ll heal my body of what it went through, I’ll heal my body from the sickness of being overweight, and my mind from the pain of thinking about things I can’t control.

So here’s to Week 1, Day 1.  Starting over…



Filed under General Hoo-Ha

14 responses to “Week 1, Day 1

  1. There are no words, only prayers for your loss. You are such a strong and amazing person, I am so proud of you for getting back out there.

    Running is certainly a time for reflection and I never realized, but some of it does seem to dredge itself up with the pain of it!

  2. Debbie Drury

    Your are an artist with your photography and how you see and cause us to beauty through your lens. You have the same gift with words. What you wrote tonight is open and honest and allowis us that you love you so dearly to see inside your heart and soul. Thank you.

    PS I am giving serious though after reading this to join you in the couch to 5k

  3. Kelle

    You are so insiteful young friend and so right! I’m so proud of you for taking the first steps to the next chapter I your life. You are a great example of how we should lean on God in times of pain and sorrow! Thanks for your amazing insiteful words, they spoke to me!

  4. Danielle

    This is beautiful. I love you, my fellow Palmer.

  5. Beth Simons

    Alisa, you pretty much kick ass. I miss you 🙂

  6. Libby

    Well said, Alisa…very well said. I love you friend and will be thinking of you as I get through some healing of my own on the treadmill every now and then-you are so awesome.

  7. Marcia

    I am grateful for your friendship, wisdom, and your grace in sharing these gifts with the world. You do it through words and photos, good food and coffee. You helped me learn, many (many) years ago, how to begin to learn to the steps of self acceptance. I trust as you said going through the pain leads to healing.

  8. Danielle Owen

    You are so rad in every aspect of your life. I feel blessed to call you friend and learn from you. I hope this journey bring comfort and healing for you. Sending much love from the Land of Middle 🙂

  9. John Ware

    …what Beth said 🙂

  10. Marcelia

    Oh my…. I’m adding you to my list of, now 2, bloggers worth reading.
    Your God-given insight into the state of ‘blissful numbness’ will be something I will chew on for a while. Thanks for posting your thoughts, Alisa.

  11. ShanChan

    Hey sis, I am only just catching up on facebook now that my parents have left from their visit. Your words hit me especially hard as health, being fat, and going through pain have been a common topic in our house lately, as well. I joined a gym for the first time ever and just got back from my first workout. You put into words what i’ve been dealing with in myself the past couple years. I cannot pretend to comprehend your pain, but I can meagerly relate on my own level and hope that our journey’s bring us closer to God, and maybe even each other. Love you

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