My father, the hero

I should warn any of my readers that this post will be straying a bit from my usual health related posts, but it will tie into my journey, so please allow me this little side venture.

Growing up I always knew I had great parents. Sure, I would complain about them the way any kid/teenager did, but I knew deep down that I got lucky. In high school I had friends who would come over to my house when I was not home in order to hang out with my mom and talk to her. Why? Because my mom is intrinsically cool, but more than that, she was an open minded non judgmental mom. She never talked down to people who were younger. That is something I did not realize when I was at that age, but as I enter my almost mid-30s I see it now. One of the things for which I was often praised on evaluations from my mentor teachers and university supervisors was that I never talked down to any student. One of the reasons, I think, that kids and teenagers gravitate towards me is this concept that I do not talk down to people just because they are younger than I am. I treat a kid's problems the same way I would an adult and I always ask kids how their day is going and I treat it like it important because to that kid, it is. I learned that from my mom. I learned so much from my cool parents that I wish I could back to being a teenager and fully appreciate what they did for me. My parents loved having my friends over. One New Year's Eve my parents had all my church friends over after New Year's Eve Dance and made pancakes and bacon for all of them. I certainly did not ask for it, but my parents wanted my friends to know that my house had a sense of community. I probably never told them how much I appreciated that.

This entry however, is going to focus on my father. It can be a post about all of the great dads out there. I know plenty, but as I struggle to get healthier, I have no better role model to look towards than my own father. My dad has always been a goal oriented man. He is a man with a plan and no one sticks to plans better than my father. I grew up watching him sit down on Sundays and write letters because his goal one year was to write more letters. So he wrote missionaries, family members, and probably various other people. No one has ever stuck to their goals better than my father. I do not know how many years ago it was that he decided to get into shape, but the minute he did, he never looked back. However, it was not just about losing weight. My dad started running 5K's and now has branched out to half marathons and who knows what he has left in store for him. I hardly get to see my dad these days, but one thing I have noticed over the last few years is a change in his attitude towards his own life. My dad has always had excitement for things, but they were reserved for the things his kids did. He would get excited about my opening nights, Travis' point total on the basketball court, Jackson's stat line for baseball and Carly's stat line in softball or volleyball. He would get excited for church events he would help organize or work outings to the Giants games or Waterworld. However, in the last few years he has started to get excited at his own accomplishments. He texts me the times of his runs, not because he is bragging but because he is proud of himself for setting these goals and achieving them. My father is not a proud man, in fact, he might be the most humble man I know, so to him get excited about something he has done, fills me with such happiness and motivation.

I know one day I am going to run a 5K or something with my dad. He will probably beat me, but that is something I am aiming for. My dad is the most supportive man I know. He has supported all four of us kids in anything and everything we have ever wanted to try. He wants us to be happy. My dad sat through rap concerts with Travis and I because he knew we wanted to go and he wanted us to be happy. He has supported me in my most trying times and now that I am working on getting healthier, his support grows all of the time. I am not sure how old I was when I realized that my dad was my hero. It probably happened later in life than it should have, but I truly am a lucky person. My dad is kind and hilarious and motivated and hard working and he leads by example. If my 50+ year old dad could get into shape and run races why couldn't I? Well, I can. Things are slow right now after a fall down the stairs and some oral surgery, but I know that I have my goals in place and when I am physically healed, I will get back on that treadmill and back in that gym and work towards my goal because Hadley's do not quit.

I have learned so many great things from my dad, but not because he was telling me to watch him and act like him, he just did it. As I start to think about family and future, I always wonder what kind of dad I will be. I do not worry about being a good father because I had such an excellent role model. In sports my dad wanted to win, yes, but as a coach he practiced things like fair play and gave every player a chance to play minutes. He wanted to make sure everyone was involved. He was never once too busy to play catch with me, or shoot hoops with me, or run passing routes with me, or any of my siblings. He was home for dinner most nights and we ate as a family most nights until there were teenage jobs, and extracurricular activities to get to. Even now he drives to California to see my plays and see Travis and Carly. His kids are his life, but now he has this other part of his life that excites him and it excites me to know that I still have my own life to look forward to. Every day I wake up with a choice to be happy or not and for some reason, often times thinking about my dad makes me want to be happy. It wants me to be better. I want to be the kind of guy who whose kids' friends' think to come to if they need an adult to talk to.

Through his actions, my dad taught me how to treat a woman correctly, he taught me the importance of date nights, and laughter. I learned the value of being with the family when things are rough and when they are great. I understand why family game nights are important. I learned fair play and team work and I learned that even my smallest accomplishments are worth celebrating. However, in this journey to get healthy I have realized that I learned the importance of goals and in the last few years I have learned that it is never too late to change you life and make it the best life it can be.

The twists and turns of quiet contemplation

"Remember that the sun will still rise tomorrow even if I had one too many slices of pizza or an extra scoop of ice cream tonight." 17 magazine Body Peace Treaty

The last week has been incredibly rough. I feel as if I have a myriad of things holding me back right now. My body has felt like it was quitting on me, like I was pushing slightly too hard through a series of pained joints and muscles and I realized, that I might have been. In an attempt to get myself to the goal of a 12 minute mile, I pushed myself too hard and burned myself out. I was not properly warming beforehand, nor had I really built my stamina up to get where I need to get to achieve that goal. I just saw the goal and wanted it so hard that I forgot that I have treat my body well in order to get there. It was frustrating and a bit disheartening. I kind of gave up on myself for a few days there. I am not proud of it at all, but it happened. I just kind of threw in the towel and fell back into some of my bad patterns or laying around a lot.

There are times when I look at myself and just feel like I am not getting anywhere and thinking that this whole thing is pointless. At some point I should see a difference, not only feel a difference, but I should be able to look in the mirror and see myself shrinking and I am not seeing that. For a few weeks I was doing everything right all of the time and was not seeing what I thought I should see and if I cannot see any change doing things the right way, why deny myself things I desperately want like soda, chips, candy and fast food. I know, my body cannot handle fast food the way it used to, but I still miss it. I miss soda and to everyone who tells you it goes away, IT DOES NOT!!! No substitute gets me over missing it. Oh I know what would happen if I had some, it would be gross and I would feel sick because I am not putting it in my body anymore, but logic goes out of the window when I feel down on myself.

Sometimes I feel like I am in a bad relationship with myself. I know logically what to do, but when I am feeling down logic holds no place. Logic has no place in an emotional setting and let's face it, a relationship with one's body is emotionally fragile. I wake up some days thinking I am about as awesome as a man can be, but often times I wake up and think that I am never going to get it right, so why try? I thought this feeling about my body would end when I got out of high school. Then I thought it would end when I found someone who loved me, now I am wondering if it ever really ends? At what point do I realize that this is who I am and it is up to me to get right with it? I am 50lbs lighter than I was at this point last year and I am down 85lbs from my highest weight in my life when I was probavbly 24 or 25 years old. I am basically at my lowest weight since high school, but I am also in better shape than I was in high school. I am, otherwise in the happiest place I have been in my entire life, minus the whole lack of job thing. So why am I still at such odds with how I look? Why does it matter so much?

Generally I feel more confident than I have in my entire life. Today I jogged for 12 minutes straight and just missed my 12 minute mile. I can do push-ups now and at work when it is slow I am doing squats and lunges and these standing push up things. I do not sit and eat popcorn when it is slow. No, I am trying to make myself the best version of who I am. However, I realize in my quiet alone moments, I still have so much work to do on the inside. I still have to get myself right with who I actually am. One of the things I am trying to work on is not defining myself by my job, or lack of job. For so many of the last 5 years I have struggled to find a full time job when I have needed it. When I get a chance to interview for a job, I get it 95% of the time, but it has been a constant point of contention in my life. I need to feel like I am doing something to contribute to the world and to my own world. I have to work on reminding myself that I am not defined by not having a job. I hate telling people I am an usher at a movie theater. I hate going to work because I feel like I am doing the exact same thing I was doing when I was 16 years old because I am doing the exact same thing I was doing when I was 16 years old. It makes me feel like I have not accomplished anything in the last 16 years, which is totally stupid, but again, my relationship with logic is shaky at best.

I have to admit this post has not gone where I set out to take it, but clearly I have had some things on my mind that I have been struggling to express outwardly. I should have known writing it down was the only way to get it out into the world and out of my head. The quote I put at the beginning of this post came to me from The Biggest Loser last night. For some reason it really hit me in a major way. After last week's frustrating events, I remembered that every day I get to start again, so that is what I did. I stretched out, I made a nice breakfast, I walked down to the gym and I got on the treadmill again. Keeping a good pace, when 10 minutes of pure jogging passed, I pushed myself to go two more and I did it. After a bad week, I had a great morning. I had a great long shower, I am going to make a great lunch and make some salmon for dinner. I am going to read a book and I am going to send my resume to three places today. I am going to spend this day reminding myself that it is okay to have a bad day and it is okay to slip and fall because I am able to get back up and try again. I am going to remind myself that I have great qualities that I need to love about myself and I need to remind myself that my relationship with my body, while volatile, is MY relationship, and I am the only one who can change it. I am the only one who can get right with it. I am the only one who can look at myself and tell myself that it is going to be okay and that as long as I am trying my very best to be the best version of myself, that I can hold my head up high and be proud of myself, which is something I never let myself be. When I graduated college, I did not let myself be proud of myself, and when I finished the Teacher Credential Program, I did not let myself be proud of that, but now I realize that I am the only one stopping me from being proud of who I am and what I have done and what I continue to do.

Okay, I am too emotionally drained to continue. No more truth from me today.

Physical Education

I grew up an athlete, as has been documented multiple times in this blog. My mom once told me that my dad wanted us to play as many sports as possible growing up so that in P.E class we would not look foolish. This may seem like a silly reason, but I promise you, it is not. I grew up playing baseball, basketball, football, tennis and yes, even soccer. I knew the rules, I knew how to play and most of all, I was good enough at all of them to never be made fun of during sports in P.E. In fact, my sophomore year in high school, I beat my P.E teacher in tennis and got an automatic A for the semester. I could play sports and I could play them at a level below superstars, but above most people. To be an overweight teenager and not get picked last in sports, always felt like a big deal. Actually, I was often a captain during sports all through middle school, even though I was miserable and had basically no friends. Sports were always a saving grace for me.

However, there was this other side to P.E. The fitness side. There was the President's test, and the mile runs and all of that other stuff that went along with those physical education classes. This is where I failed myself. I was not in great shape. I was not in good shape. I could hide that in sports because I was skilled. I could hit a baseball, shoot a hoop, throw a pass, and serve a tennis ball, I could not, however, run a mile to save my life. Through most of junior high I faked notes from my dad to get out of running the mile (I could mostly forge my dad's signature, but not my mom's.) If I did not fake a note, I would run until everyone was out of my sight and then I would walk the rest of it, finishing well after everyone else had moved on to other things and not paying attention to how slowly I finished a mile. When it came to the president's test, I would literally cry on those days because everyone was around you watching you try to do a pull up, which I could not do. The entire process shamed me. It did not shame me into taking action, no it shamed into not trying. I did not care what anything showed on those tests, I just hated knowing I was going to get teased non stop about my inability to do anything on that stupid fitness test.It is that test that made me afraid of ever trying sit ups, push ups, pull ups and everything else involved. I could literally play circles around 85% of my class in spots, but no one cared about my skills in sports when it came time for this bi-yearly test.

Recently I have taken up CrossFit, as I have mentioned here, and CrossFit has forced me to dig deep within myself and TRY. Sit ups, push ups and pull ups are all a big part of the CrossFit routine. The biggest difference between now and then is no one is making fun of me for trying. In junior high, my P.E. teachers looked passed the teasing, thought nothing of the snickers coming from my classmates as I struggled to do a pull up. They paid no mind to kids calling me the Stay Puff Marshmallow Man. I do not bring this up for sympathy or pity, as I have processed that time in my life and dealt with it. When I got out of high school, I was sure I was never going to do anything of those things again because of all the ugliness attached to it all. I was never going to run a mile again because I could not be successful at it. I could not be successful at physical fitness and no one in middle school or high school made me feel like I could. I was these great supportive teachers all through high school, but none of them were there in P.E. Now, at 32 years old, I have these great P.E teachers.

This morning I just missed my 12 minute mile, but I did get 1 and 1/4 mile in 15 minutes on the treadmill and then followed that up with two miles on the bike. I did 3.25 miles of physical fitness today and all under an hour. Tonight I will go to CrossFit and I will probably be asked to do push ups, of which I can now do 6 before going to a modified version. I am so close to being able to do a real sit up again. I am still worlds away from doing a real pull up, but I am trying. In middle school and high school, I would do a mile in probably 20 or 25 minutes. I am bigger now than I was in middle school, but I was scared in middle school. I was scared of everything from the age I was 12 until 18. Now I am on the treadmill running/jogging/walking a mile 5 days a week. This is not just about getting physical healthy, this is about conquering all of the things that scare me. Well, not all of the things, I will never get over my fear of clowns, those things are just unnecessary.

Physical Education made me afraid of physical fitness. Not only that, but I always felt physical education missed teaching me about so much of the idea of being healthy. I understand there is a health class at the high school level, but shouldn't physical education be all encompassing about health? That, I presume, is a topic for another day. When I was a kid, I loved sports, and running around with my friends. Eventually all of that stuff scared me and now I am slowly getting it back. I am remembering what it feels like to build up a nice sweat accomplishing something physically demanding. I am missing basketball and baseball. Honestly, I think the thing I miss the most is playing basketball with my brothers and dad. I am setting clear goals and working towards them. I will have a 12 minute mile before February is over. I wish I had this resolve when I was 13 years old. Who knows what may have happened if I had felt supported by the people at school, or if I just did not care what people said in junior high and high school. I do know this, it is never too late to do a pull up and one day, I will get there.