Don't step on it...it makes you cry.

Today's blog is not for those of us with no fear of the scale. This is for all the girls who's scale is not their friend. My entire life weight loss has been an issue. I have - mostly - made peace with my "body type" and the constant battle with the weight gain, but I do some days just wish it wasn't so hard. I have always had to work hard to loose a few kilos and fight to get fit. Genetically I did not hit the jackpot in this regard. So, typical pattern is that during winter exercise decreases and weight increases. Sigh. It happens every year! One would think I would learn by now! I have been on a path of avoidance since June. I refuse to get on the scale. Not that my clothes don't tell the story - those unwanted winter fat rolls can't be ignored, but I just don't need to see those depressing numbers on the scale right now. Or so I tell myself. My theory works as follows: I need a focus or goal that is not weight related to enable me to work towards weight loss. If I focus to much on the weight, I start obsessing about food = leading to more food. If I focus on a running or exercise goal then food becomes less important. I sort of "reverse psychology" myself by visualising the fitness goal clearly and believing that the end result will be as desired: fitness and weight loss. This requires a bit of imagination and a lot pep talking myself.

So here's the plan: Get fit enough to run the Tough One in 3h30min end of November and then, I do the operation. Actually, just run the race. Move forward.

"My favourite day." said Pooh

I checked the definition of "fertility" and the first part of the definition was almost word for word what I would have written down if asked, namely "The ability to produce offspring". The second part however gave me a clue to the feeling I've been struggling to verbalise all this while: "Fertility - the power of reproduction". And therein lies the word I've been struggling for. All this time I've been feeling powerless! Not just sad or angry or grieving: powerless. We (the girl-children) are brainwashed about our power. Our power to choose. Our power as women in the new South Africa, our right to be equal...and yet a simple little word "infertile" can change one's self image dramatically.

This word's been hanging over my head for a longt iem. I thought I was "fine", maybe sad sometimes with a sense of loss, but hey I think that is an perfectly acceptable feeling. Once you start poking in the dark places though, unexpected nasty things stir and suddenly the issue of self worth stirrs the dark inners of one's soul. Powerless. Like a rolling blackout, lost even. I've spent quite a few sleepless nights trying to accept and prepare myself emotionally. I've researched the practical issues, chatted to a friend who had a hysterectomy and tried really hard to be brave about this. I drew the line at checking out the procedure on You Tube (a friend of mine did and I am sure I couldn't handle knowing the gory details of the actual operation). So hell, I am scared. Scared that I will be pathetic afterwards. Scared that I won't be the same person. Scared that somehow psychologically the "womb-lessness" will make me different.
So I am writing down scary thoughts, sorting through the issues and hopefully finding my equilibrium. I am - not so eloquently - sorting through my stuff because in the end a knife is going to cut something out of me - something I was born with. Something that changes the way you think about yourself - even if it shouldn't. 
It is a blend of being "fine", understanding the situation, accepting the issues, and yet being confused and scared all at once. Yesterday I was reminded of my first principle (via a friend's WhatsApp message): "...in this moment there is complete peace". It is true and it is truth. We cannot change the past. I can change how I feel about it, but it is what it is and yesterday and tomorrow does not exist.

"What day is it?" asked Pooh
"It's today." squeaked Piglet.
"My favourite day." said Pooh

Thanks to Annie and Pooh for reminding me.

China and life after the marathon

Dear Diary...
I made it. I ran a marathon and I made in good time (for that marathon) - 6 hours 23 minutes. And I was so proud, so happy. Even though that was May and this is August, maybe I should end this cycle, complete the circle and tell the story - at least some overview.
It was amazing. Tough as hell, beautiful and challenging, but amazing. I was ready and I did it. I have the medal, the poster photos and the t-shirt. I did it.
Strange, I meant to of course, write up the whole thing and how much it meant to me. After months of preparation and many interesting stories, it was almost surreal once I was done. Don't get me wrong, it was amazing. I don't think I can put into words how amazing it was. I am so glad to have seen, felt, touched and experienced the Great Wall. It is worthy of it's name. I did not find China - Beijing - in general awe inspiring...but the Wall took my breath away. Of all the things to see in life, I think this is one worthy of effort. But once I came back life took me on it's normal roller coaster ride and I never actually got around to writing my story. And when I started thinking about it, I realised the story changed. It is different now, maybe I am different now.
So I ran the marathon, a tough one, and came back home (really homesick) and winter hit and my running went from feast to famine. And I started missing having a goal. It does not help that I am still sans training partners (Toe-less-wonder and Falling-down-stairs are both still slowly coming back to the fold). So August is here (and it is snowing today) and I started attending my ritual of running again in the past week. I am back. And I have stuff to say, stuff to think about and a big life choices to make. Life after the marathon has begun... But before I turn the page, some of the visuals from my big adventure.

The poster child at the finish.

Never before was I so relieved to finish. So many starters did not make the official cut-off time. I took many pictures and fought many demons to get to this point. I loved it. I hated it. I loved it.

Beautiful views, breathtaking scenery...

So it was harder than just a normal marathon? Yes. Steeper than I expected? Yes.
Killer steps were hard, but the gradient that is what killed me, but hey it was way easier than I had anticipated.

There was one section that took me 30 minutes to climb a mere 1 km. It was just so steep. And after 35 km, it bites!

And in the end, I was also reminded how much I love SA and how proudly South African we are.

Ke nako

Sitting in the SAA Lounge at OR Tambo international airport, 30 minutes to boarding the flight to Beijing. Super cool to be typing on my iPad and blogging about my great adventure. This past weekand especially the days were tough. Lots of last minute issues and worst of all, picked up a head cold on Saturday. Dosing myself with lots of vitamins and paracetamol and hoping for a quick recovery. But here I am...after all the training, the highs, the lows, the fear and the anticipation, it is finally time. Ke nako.

Scarcited

Nine days to the big event. I just had a look at the website again and my toes started curling. The climbs look scary. Fear struck me. I am scarcited. Excited and scared all in one. Flight is on Monday the 15th at midnight and with that the long trek will begin. First the 14 hour flight to Beijing then the trip to the wall. I am happily planning to have iPad access and through all of this hope to be connected enough to post memories. Training has gone well, no injuries, no colds, no real issues with training on my own: everybody just helped where they could and here I am soon to be: "Bella the international marathon runner"

Training, training and some more training

The past two weeks have been great and super busy. Not only did the fitness really kick up, but I also found my times improving significantly. I've now started the last of the serious weeks and found mid-week training runs getting harder - mentally mostly - while running the races on the weekends keep me honest, it is kinda lonely to get up at 3:30am and trot of to some distant spot in Jozi. But, I ran my best ever 32km and matched my second best 21km in the last two weeks, keeping the motivation levels up when times are tough. Amazing how persistent training of 40-60 km a week can change one's fitness in merely 6 weeks. Hope for all. Most weeks I make up the distance with plenty 5-9 km runs in the week and one or two longer ones on the weekend. Hey I know plenty more running is possible, but I also have a job and a life to manage. Remarkably, my two training partners both "fell" due to obscure accidents and I have been stuck with resorting to dragging my injured partner out at night, him following me in the car, me running in front. As winter approaches the evening runs are harder, and it is not a great strategy to run after dark, on your own, in Joburg suburbs. But the night runs - with the entourage - have been a revelation to the soul. No stress and plesant beyond my expectations. So when the going gets tough, the tough gets the 4x4 to be my wingman!

Progress is so good.

I spoke to someone who's run 14 Comrades and 50 marathons and is obviously a real runner. A gentle, modest guy, not one of those people that make my little dream small because they have done so much.
I like to remember how hard the first 10km race was AND how amazing the accomplishment was for me. Running a marathon, and the Great Wall Marathon, is huge for me and what I am doing is running against the odds - for me. Easter weekend saw me run my longest training run yet 32km (as part of the Randburg Harrier's Easter 100). I felt amazing. In a mere 6 weeks I have run 267km. Suddenly I am contemplating running a marathon this Sunday and the mere thought is not frightening me silly. I need to decide and either do it or just run China. Sometimes it is just hard to know what the right thing is to do.