Fried Green Tomatoes.....Oh Yes....

To run amok means to "act wild or in a dangerous manner".  I often have felt this way.  For those of you familiar with the movie, Fried Green Tomatoes, Kathy Bates, transforms from frumpy housewife into Towanda--mistress of her own destiny.  I haven't run amok in the grocery store parking lot and crashed into a car over and over, or torn down the walls of my house, but I did something that was just as crazy in my world....

In the summer of 2010, I registered for the Princess Half Marathon in Disney World.  This was paramount to crashing my Caddy into a cute sassy girl's VW.  At the time, we could barely make ends meet, and to send the early registration of $95 and commit to a February Hotel room on Disney property, gas, meals, and whatever else.  What was I thinking?!?!  I was thinking about me.  What an alien concept.

Well the money was gone, I had committed (or maybe I needed to be committed).  I also, should say, that I am cheap.  Not fugal, not conservative.  CHEAP.  I will rub pennies together, hoping to make nickels.  I used coupons on my honeymoon.  So once I had committed my money, it was ON.  I also started telling people.  I told my friends at work, business associates,  I told random people in my life, I told my mother, but I hesitated to tell my brother.  At this point, I did not believe I could do it.  So, I was telling enough people that I had no choice.  Once it was "out there", I could not back down.  I was running amok, telling people.  If I had kept it to myself, I could quit and no one would know except me and my husband, maybe the kids wouldn't remember.  Now, I had broadcast it. There is no turning back.

So, time to get to it.  I get on the scales everyday.  I know that you aren't supposed to, but I do.  As great Southerners say, "I was within spittin distance" of 200 lbs.  Work had been very stressful for about two years.  My husband and I had closed our bicycle business due to the downturn of the economy.  Things had taken their toll.  However, like all people who have once been in shape, I felt like I still was in fairly good shape.  You know like the guy who played sports in high school, but now wears a 38-40 waist, but thinks he still has "it", or the woman who ran five miles a day one summer in college and used to mountain bike and road bike before kids came along (me).  They say that people who have eating disorders don't see a skinny person in the mirror.  I think I had an exercise disorder.  In my mind, I was still in good shape.  I had carried exercise clothes in my car, off and on for years.  Every once in a while, I actually used them.  That had to count for something.  I had stairs in my house. I didn't park next to door of stores, cause those spots were already taken.  I mean really....

For all the Disney runs, there is a requirement that you must maintain an average of a 16 minute mile.  No sweat, right!  So, in mid-late July, I got some exercise shorts and a tee shirt, used the running shoes that I already had, and started off.  I planned to walk for about 30 minutes.  I had my Ipod.  It was one of the original series of Ipods,  it is about the size of the current Iphone4s.  We got it when they were closing them out, remember me saying I was cheap.  So, off I go, walking as hard and fast as I can, from the house.  When I returned to the house, I sat down to regain my breath.  I was having a bit of trouble breathing and talking. My family looked at me oddly.  Very oddly. My sweet husband, got up and got me a big plastic cup that we had saved from the Quick Trip gas station and filled it with ice water.  When  I took it from him, I got the sense that I gave him the same look that you get from a grateful golden retriever.  He said gently, "let me go run you a cold bath."  I had finally regained the ability to speak.  I did ask why.  My daughter told me I was the wrong color.  I had turned bright red and passed that up and gone totally white again.  For those not in Georgia, July hosts temperatures in the low 100's and humidity in the 95%.  I could be having a heat exhaustion/stroke.  This mid-life crisis is definitely causing me to act wild and in a dangerous manner.

And so it begins....

I am having a midlife crisis. There I've said it. No whining, no judgement, no bitterness, just reality. I am not upset by this event. It means that I have made it to a point in my life where I no longer care if my socks match my blouse. I have stopped breaking my back to make everyone in my life happy, and generally, I like myself. Before we get too far into this tale, introductions may be in order for some. I am a Southerner, a wife, a mother of two, a daughter, a sister, a fierce friend, a Martha Stewart wannabe (that reads as self-imposed perfectionist), the school nutrition director for our local school system ( I help feed 8,300 kids lunch every day and work with 126 women), and I am TIRED.

Around 18 months ago, I was at a conference in Dallas, Texas. Not long before I left, my mother told me I needed a haircut because I was too old to wear long hair. While unpacking, and watching tv, I saw the commercial for the movie, "Eat, Pray, Love". In the ad, two women talked about not being able to remember what they had to eat for lunch, that maybe it was a salad at their desk. I was struck by the fact that I could have joined their conversation, you know, if I was famous and in the movie. Later that evening, destiny's gong struck the third time (we all know, things, good and bad, come in threes). My nightly endulgence was to enjoy a dove chocolate. Right there on the wrapper was printed, "Live with no regrets." Now, I know it is dangerous to get a life philosophy from candy, but remember the premise, I'm having a midlife crisis here, and as these three things rolled over in my mind, my midlife crisis was born.

I returned home to Georgia and spoke with my family about my realization that I needed to do something for myself. They stared at me blankly and with great love asked, "What do you want to do?" Well, that was the last thing I expected. I had dreams for my husband and children, hopes for my friends and family, goals for work, but I had forgotten how to dream for me. I had spent my twenties and thirties working on family and career and I got lost. I think I felt like if I did too much for myself, I would be selfish, or a bad person/mother. There just didn't seem to be enough time for me. Now, the kids were a bit older, and they still needed me, but not like they did when they had were babies.

My husband in his great wisdom asked, "What did you used to want to do?" I explored this question in my "free" time. You know, in the shower, in the three minutes before someone discovered that I was in the bathroom and started talking to me through the door, while I was standing in line etc. Things I used to dream of doing, being a wife- check, being a mother-check, being successful at work-check, run a marathon- wait...

So, we held a family meeting and talked about it. Could overweight, out of shape, not exercising, Mom, with a previous ankle injury complete a marathon? No, not right now, but, MAYBE a half marathon. And so it begins.......