Life is short - Live it to its fullest...

Also known in my world as the grief excuse.

This first photo was taken in Wisconsin, July 2006. A month and a half prior to Jim's cancer diagnosis. I was running consistently and was very fit for someone who historically avoided athletics. Jim and I ran together that trip. I totally kicked his ass. I razzed him unmercifully about it. That's important to note because in less than 6 weeks, we would find out just why I could run circles around him. I have a really difficult time letting go of the fact that I teased him instead of knowing something was really wrong. I should have known. I should have done something. I should have... haunts me to this day.

 



 The second photo was taken in NYC about 7 months later. I'm running sporadically, but not sleeping very well and starting to medicate stress with Xanax, sleeping pills, nightcaps, and ice cream. I'm spending as much time as I can trying to find the cure for Jim's cancer. Just to save you all some time, it doesn't exist in books, at medical seminars, or on the Internet.

In September of 2007, Jim died. So did just about anything else for those of us who loved him. The next year was horrid. An entire of year of heart-wrenching firsts. I didn't run. I didn't exercise. The Xanax and sleeping pill prescriptions were long gone, but I continued to self-medicate with alcohol and sugar. Those of you who've read this blog, know I spent that first year, trying to find Jim at the bottom of Edy's ice cream cartons. The pounds are starting to really pack on, but I tell myself, it's only 10 lbs. Once I "finish" grieving, I'll be able to get it off.

The year went by and I came out of that haze of the first year. I started running again. I took to the road to talk to Jimmy. I cried many tears on those runs. In 2009, I ran a lot of races in Jim's memory - the Lilac 10K, the Boilermaker in Utica, the Rochester Half Marathon. I'm up 15 pounds and almost a full two minutes per mile slower than in 2006, but I looked at myself and said "So what? I'm not as young as I used to be and look at how fit I am!" Pass the beer and the ice cream please. For every calorie I burned running, I put two extra in my body. But I DESERVED it, I crawled out of the hell of that first year missing Jim and got my ass moving again. Pass the beer and the ice cream again please - nothing bad happened to the ones I love today.

Life can be short, so let's celebrate today's happiness! I realized in the back of my head that this wasn't really healthy. I need a goal - I couldn't save my brother, but maybe I can save someone else's. So off I go...training for a marathon. I spent eight months training to run 26.2 miles in Jim's memory and raise money for the Colon Cancer Alliance. Because I was training for a marathon, for every calorie I burned running, this time I put three in my mouth. But it's okay because I'm training for a marathon! The magic caloric math will happen on those 16 and 18 mile training runs. Funny thing, I gained another ten pounds and slowed down another minute per mile.

In January of 2011 I ran my marathon. In the picture on the left, I am at mile 10 - now 25 pounds heavier than the first picture and 10 lbs heavier than the picture above. The aches and pains of hauling all that extra weight on my 5'2" frame for 26.2 miles, was awful. I crossed the finish line and said "Never again." What that translated to was "Stop all exercise immediately." Oh, I would get on the treadmill about once every week or two to make sure I could still "run" a 5K. Eventually that became once a month or the day after I got on the scale. I did try and cut out the sweets. But I continued to live my life as if every day might be my last. I raised every glass, took a bite (or two or three) of every decadent food that came across my path. I celebrated every evening Mark and the kids were safe and sound. 

Five years leading me to my lovely final photo, taken right before Christmas this year. It shows every single pound of the 35 I've gained.

Mark got a new job in July. I was so embarrassed about my weight, that I didn't want to go to Mark's company party and meet his new coworkers. I was thrilled when he got sick and we couldn't go. How's that for living life to it's fullest?

So here I sit, sweaty from my 5th day in a row on the treadmill. I wonder:

How did I go from "living life like every day might be my last" to "living life to put myself in an early grave" and just what am I prepared to do about it?