Being More Like Marvin the Martian, Three Year Reflections

When I was a school aged child in the late 70's, I can remember how important Saturday morning was. It held two coveted things, no school and Saturday morning cartoons.  There was Hong Kong Phooey, Grape Ape, Roadrunner and even Marvin the Martian, one of my personal favorites.  He had that clever quiet sinister style to him which made outwitting his foes appear flawless.  Not to mention that he did it wearing a Roman style helmet and Chuck Taylors.  In my teen years I would go on to own Chucks in yellow, pink and even classic canvas.  Nonetheless, Marvin was cool and at that time pretty much all I knew about Mars. 

I would later come to learn that Mars was thought to have once been full of beautiful lakes and oceans, with many seasonal changes.  This week, I was reflecting the start of  my 85 pound weight loss journey that began with a single OrangeTheory workout exactly three years ago.   I Googled what else could be achieved in 3 years just for fun, and the answer was to travel to Mars and back.  How cool is that?   I can honestly say, in my 48 years I have never been able to stick with a weight loss plan or fitness schedule like I have this one.  I have lost the weight and begun to inspire others to do the same, and in the same amount of time I could have gone to find Marvin.  Seems like a stark raving success right?  Well maybe so, but by declaring that, we really have not really read the fine print of the full story.

First of all, to get to Mars and back is not really a three year journey.  It's six months there, wait two years for the Earth and Mars to be as close as they can be, then six months back.  So, essentially you have to camp out on Mars for a while.  To be honest, this is exactly how it felt.  The first six months, was the gung ho excitement of huge weight loss, big gains and trying new things.  However, once I hit six months,  I would find, just as scientists found on Mars, there are so many seasons on this journey, each one with new challenges of it's own. 

There was initially the notion that if gains came with working out, then clearly I needed to work out more.  If one hour of OTF a day was good, two were better.  My hip hurts?  No problem.  Keep going.  I slipped and can't walk?  Crutch it into the gym and try to bike anyway.  Push, push, push, six months into my journey until I woke up in a hospital bed on a dilaudid pump realizing overexercising had broken the largest bone in my body and I now was the proud owner of a hip full of titanium, and furthermore I was pretty sure my journey was over.

Fighting through  that crushing defeat, the rehab season followed.  I was smarter then.  One hour was enough, and stay true to eating clean.  There was yoga to ease the sore muscles and begin to tame the anxiety of working out less.  Later, there was the first Spartan Race at Fenway Park.  I would arrive there, and although I looked healthy, in my mind, I wondered what it was I was doing there among these people who appeared to be serious athletes.  I had essentially been the fat non athlete most of my life.  I would find myself self conscious at the start line, and nearly paralyzed with fear at the top of the 15 foot cargo net second guessing what it was I was doing.  I would go on to finish and stand on the first baseline of Fenway with my first medal around my neck crying my eyes out with my poor son trying to provide the comfort and support as he always has on my journey.  I would go on to race in five more races, even completing the trifecta of a Spartan Sprint, Super and Beast in 2017.  The insecurity seems to be becoming less each time.  I would love to say it has totally passed, but don't suppose it ever will.  In my last two races, I have had the honor of taking newbies to their first races and watch them learn as I have, that what we think we are capable of is probably not even close to reality.

In the last six months, I have taken on endurance running.  The anxiety producing task that brought back pace slowing memories of being ridiculed in gym class.  I long convinced myself I was not an endurance runner.  Yes, I ran Spartans, even a 20 mile beast, but Spartans were different.  There running was simply a way to get from one obstacle to the next, not sustained distance running.  However, I was roped into the skull crushing 12 man 200 mile relay known as Ragnar.  Fair is fair, I had taken the captain to her first Spartan Race, so I felt obligated to commit to this.  With the Cape Cod Ragnar only 7 days away at this point, and six months of training for it behind me, I have to say that running for endurance has taught me to exert energy with control and in doing it fairly well now, I have found it surprisingly empowering.  Me.  The non distance runner. Empowered by running, suddenly thinking the Disney Marathon in January is an excellent idea. 

Now that I have settled into running for endurance, though, it became simple to convince myself that running with speed was not a thing.  I blamed my hip.  My age.  My acid reflux.  No, its not those things either.  It's mental.  The notion that the fat girl has nothing.  The fat girl who needed a designated runner in softball because there was no way she was stealing bases, and was most certainly going to be last when it came to running the Cooper (1.5 miles) in junior high. So as I take this on as my next big thing, by applying an adage from a training friend,"some days you say fuck it.  You go hard and if you puke you puke."   Much to my surprise today, I did just that and found myself at a sprint of 6"56' pace for a short period of time suddenly realizing just maybe speed could be a thing.


When we look at the history of Mars, the current thought is that there once were rivers and lakes and life.  I think prior to the last three years, I settled for a life that I thought was just fine.  My own, what I felt were beautiful, lakes and rivers, but in reality, I think in a lot of ways I was simply drowning.  I was unable to believe I could no longer be morbidly obese,  and instead be healthy and, given enough time and training, could accomplish any physical challenge.  Considering motivating others to do the same was not even on the radar.  The reality is, though, at this point modern Mars is dry and uninhabitable.  I suppose that is what my three year journey has been about, six months in, start life on a planet I have no understanding of, with two years of various seasons of changes until the old life of doubt and "I can't" no longer threaten to pull me under.  I have come to learn that my old life was is simply no longer inhabitable, and it is time to go back and make things all new.  Only this time, realizing I have the power to make it any way I want to.   

So, here I go.  Setting out on year four of my health journey.  As I get busy with the scary task of goal setting, I think I will take a page out of Marvin's book.  Strap on the Chuck Taylors, show up with quiet confidence and outwit the competition, even if the competition is the old me.