Dear Diary

(I joined WW last week; today will be my first "results" weigh-in.)

I’m going to have to resist psyching myself out this time around: worrying about how much my clothes weigh, worrying about how much I eat before each meeting, wanting to weigh myself at home, then obsessing over how that weight will compare with my weight at meeting.

    Clothes: Till I get down to the bitter end, an ounce or two between these pants and those pants really doesn’t matter.  Right now my struggle isn’t one of ounces but of behaviors.  This time around I made the decision that I’m going to wear my running shoes for every weigh-in.

    breakfast: My breakfasts are generally healthy, and one of the teachings of WW is to eat breakfast daily.  By skipping breakfast on weigh-in day, I’d be starting my week at a disadvantage, throwing the baby out with the bath water.  So there’ll be breakfast, even on weigh-in day.

    weight at home:  It’s like trying to make Christmas happen sooner.  Sometimes the anticipation of a good number becomes overwhelming.  A simple solution to this: have the hubby hide the scale.  Again, I can’t achieve my goal by weighing myself obsessively.

My big fear is that I won’t know how to cope with those weeks when I lose no weight or even gain weight.  But that’s catastrophic thinking, creating drama in my mind.  Whether the scale shows a gain or a loss is beyond my control.  What is in my control is whether I live the lifestyle I’ve chosen: eating good food with good reason, and moving this body before I lose it.

How I Lost 100 Pounds: Seahorses

It's a little odd that I turned to exercising in the water as a last resort.  I love the water - ocean, lake, pond, rain, or tub.  I love seeing, hearing, touching, smelling and even tasting it.  I love water so much that I can't believe anything I do in it is exercise.

Stop by the pool on certain afternoons, look for the aqua jogger who's smiling till that smile erupts into laughter, and you've found me. 

Why am I smiling? 
* because I'm having so much fun moving without pain,
* because when I aqua jog from one side of the pool to the other I remember my babies tripping toward me, giggling all the way,
* because I feel the strength of my arms and legs pulling me through the water,
* because no one can see how much bouncing and jiggling is going on in my swimsuit,
* because I imagine I'm a silly seahorse, bobbing along.

You could say I went to the aqua jogging class kicking and screaming.  "It's not real exercise!" I thought to myself.  But I was wrong.  It is real exercise.  I can tell because when I get into the pool, the water's cold and I have energy to burn.  After 15 minutes the water feels almost stiflingly warm and I am pushing myself to keep my head above water.  (And it's a joyful pushing, with legs and core and arms.)

After just a couple weeks of aqua jogging I already feel stronger.  I'm overcoming nerve damage which had been overwhelming me.  The joy I feel in the pool translates into joy at home.  By wearing myself out during day, I sleep better at night.  Weakness is becoming strength, and lethargy is becoming energy.

How I Lost 100 Pounds: Wii Weekly!

700 days since I last used the Wii fit, and I still take offense when the little board sadly sighs "oh" when I step on.  Yeah, buddy, I'm back.

The good news: My Wii Fit age 7 years lower than my real age - YAY!

The bad news:  During those 700 days away, I've added more pounds than I'm willing to admit here.  And there's some work to be done:  

I didn't really need the TV to tell me I'm unbalanced.

Or that my personal best in boxing still has a ways to go.

Somehow I forgot about the Wii.  In all my swimming and biking and weightlifting, weigh-ins and bathroom scales and calorie counting, I forgot about the gem under the couch.  

I like Wii Fit.  It gives me messages like this when I do well...

(Okay, so that was on breathing.  I can breathe just 6 points shy of perfection!)

... and like this:

Yep, I'm a perfect stepper.

I like the feeling that I'm working out with a trainer, without the baggage that comes with working out at the gym -- you know what I'm talking about: membership fees, crowded locker rooms, transportation time.

I'm motivated by the progress charts, by the improvements I know are on the way, and by helpful messages like this:

 Yep, I can do better than that, and I'll hit it again tomorrow.  Wii!

How I lost 100 pounds: season 14

The premier of Season 14 of The Biggest Loser will air tonight.  I've been looking forward to it since this summer, when I wasn't chosen as a contestant.  I'm curious to see what the chosen people brought to the table, to hear their stories.

I'm doing a fair amount of what if I'd been selected?
What would I weigh now?
How would I have done in challenges?
Which would be my trainer?
What would my family and I have done without each other?
Would I be fighting back from my back injury?  Would it even have happened?

I'm also feeling that little bit of competition starting up again.  If I work really hard this week, how would a 1st all-out week compare against the contestants'?  Not much of a contest, since I won't be spending 6 hours a day in the gym; but still.

What if?

New Year

For the first time in a long time I've got a couple things to put on a new year's to-do list.

Let me pause though, and ask whether you're a glass-half-empty or glass-half-full kind of person.

Here's my glass.  

Looks pretty empty doesn't it?  Truth be told it's already pretty full.  First of all, it's filled with love.  It was inspired by Kathryn and given to me by Buffy.  

Second, it's filled with hope.  The idea is to fill it with slips of paper written upon with good things that happened each day.  You can't tell from the photo, but it's a big jar.  A lot of love.  A lot of hope.

It's also got a good base of m&ms.

m&ms make me happy.  I love their colors, their smooth texture, their clinking sound.  I also happen to not like to eat m&ms.  

Just imagine how beautiful this jar will look as the days and weeks go on in the year ahead.  Slips of happiness nestled among colors of happiness.

The other activity I'm embracing for the new year: starting each of my days with Namaste.  According to on-line sources, ;iterally it means "I bow to you."  Gandhi broadened it to "I honor the place within where the Universe resides; I honor the place within you of love, of light, of truth, of peace; I honor the place within you, where, when you are in that place in you, and I am in that place in me, there is only one of us."  I've often said it to canines and felines, and I've recently begun saying it to humans.  Now I'm going to say it to myself each day.  It's a powerful reminder to me of suffering which happens in the world, and of the great love and respect I wish to give all people, even myself.

Namaste.

Happy new year.

What to do, what to do?

It happens every time.  In the weeks leading up to the kids' break from school - whether summer, winter, or spring - I anticipate days of not worrying about school, deadlines, and other obligations.  I envision pajama days of a magically and healthfully filled refrigerator, well-balanced and nutritious meals that prepare themselves, laundry that keeps itself clean, folded, and stocked in drawers, and hour after hour of being merrily busy.

About halfway through the break, when I'm weary of chauffeuring and of living schedulessly at the whim of my kidlets, I find myself thinking "Why didn't I set plan time for me?"  I can eat in secret, read a stack of books, surf the web, or watch TV reruns, but none of those is what I want to do.  My body is stiff, my clothes are tight, and I'm feeling blah.  I want to feel alive again.

That's when I start making plans for the weeks ahead.  Looking through the class offerings of the YMCA I see titles like Step, Basic Strength Training, and Yoga.  I see Cardio & Strength, Jogging, and Boot Camp all listed in the water section!  I start comparing the times of the offered classes to the times I need to drop off or pick up from school.  How many classes can I squeeze in to my days?  How good will I feel after each class?  How awesome will it feel to start shedding, instead of packing on, pounds again?

I've got my water.  I've got my journal.  Now I've got to get some exercise.  Again.

How I Lost 100 Pounds, 12/20

First, it must be noted that drinking 8 oz. of water every half hour isn't a sustainable practice.  After the first few hours, I quickly decided to use my head rather than stick to a vow which didn't make sense.  The good news?  I'm back in the water habit!  Not 8 oz. every half hour, but definitely more often than before.

After plenty of hemming & hawing, tempted by the idea of "I'll just go back to WW!  They'll fix it!" I chose instead to purchase a food journal.  This is the one I bought.  Already on day one it's working.  Starting to journal what I eat reminds me to think twice before eating.  This morning I almost had my teeth into a cookie, I remembered the journal and my goal, and then I put the cookie down.  I'm reminded of the phrase Don't trade what you want most for what you want right now.

The journal also made me finally make time to get to the grocery store for fresh fruit.  I can't remember the last time my breakfast included fruit or veggies.

I'm thankful for all that I learned in WW.  Now I need to keep tapping into those lessons and stand on my own two feet. 

water -- check.
food tracking -- check.

How I Lost 100 Pounds, Starting Today

I've had the title "How I Lost 100 Pounds, Starting Today" in my head for a few weeks now.  I think it comes from the dream it, do it or believe it, achieve it school of thought.  

This morning I decided to promote myself to the next grade by moving from thought to action.  I took what is almost always the first step of getting serious about getting healthy: identify the Why.  Why am I motivated to invest in improving my health?  I took my brand new, fairy-godmother-given notebook and made my list.  It's my list, not yours.  I invite you to make a list of your very own.

When I was done making my list I gave myself 2 challenges for today:

1.  Get on the scale.  I know, I know: there are other healthful cues than a scale, but if my title is "How I Lost 100 Pounds, Starting Today," then I'd better know where I started so I know when I get there.

2.  Drink 8 oz. of water during every top and bottom half of the hour.  Not only will this make me healthier, it'll also give me a jump start on that 100 lbs.

So.  Here we are.  Only 100 pounds to go!

doggie dash

What is all boils down to today is this:

Do I want to be the fat old lady waiting at the finish line with a mouthful of excuses, or do I want to be the fat old lady crossing the finish line in spite of the excuses?

Off to the Doggie Dash!

weight loss insanity!

Was it Einstein?  I think it was Einstein.  I could look it up, but then I'd lose my train of thought, and the way that train's been running lately, I'm better off keeping away from search engines.

Someone, I think it's Einstein, noted that doing the same thing over and over again, expecting different results is insanity.  I think it's more futility, but what do I know?

I know that my clothes got tighter while I wasn't looking.  I thought about blaming it on those calories which hide in the washer & dryer and suck the extra space right out of the fabric.  I'm sure I've read about that kind of calories on the Internet; and we all know that if it's on the Internet it must be true.

I thought about blaming it on my injuries which have kept me from getting my heart rate up.  But, quite frankly, hand and arm have done just fine lifting goodies all the way to my mouth.  I suspect that some of my residual limp is less limp than waddle.

Where am I going with all this?  I'm going to make my clothes less tight.  I'm not a seamstress by any stretch of the imagination, so instead of working from the outside-in, I'm going to have to work from the inside-out.

And what better time that autumn?  No shorts or swimsuits on the horizon -- only blankets and flannels, if our recent loss of power is any indication of the months ahead.  Autumn!  With comfort foods and social foods and sampling foods.  Since society will have us all dieting on January 1, so if we're going to eat butter, cheese, and sugar we'd better hop to it.

Yeah, a great time to fix what's not working.

My best weapon right now is that I want to be healthy.  My tighter clothes aren't the issue -- they're a symptom.  I've had enough injury this year to last me a lifetime; I want the rest of my lifetime to be glorious, not burdensome.

Eat better.  Move more.  Ignoring those instructions and thinking I'll be healthy... futile insanity.

new

Much like the butterflies in my stomach before the initial Lighten Up session in 2011, today's butterflies know how to raise a ruckus.  In a little while I'm going to try a new gym.  I'm already wondering what the clientele will be like, how hard will it be to find the machines I want to work on, and what am I capable of after having been physically & emotionally broken.

It's too bad I can't sneak into the gym when no one's looking.  Try this machine and that, build my endurance and slim down a bit before adding other people to the mix.

But as I told myself time and time again in the past, people at the gym are there for themselves, not to pay attention to me.  So the best I can do it pack a water bottle and some tunes, make sure my laces are tied, and do my best.

Enough time

To summarize where I've been since August:  Back injuries stink.  And that's enough about that.

Since I have had no exercise option available to me for more than a month now, I've had plenty of time to wallow and worry.

And I've had so much time to wallow and worry that I've resorted to giving myself a good talking to.  There are some things I can't do.  So?

I can do my phsyical therapy exercises.  (I used to work to make my trainer proud; now I'm working to make my physical therapist proud.)

And I can concentrate on healthy eating.  (So many blogs, so many cookbooks, so many friends with great recipes)

Time to start concentrating on doing what I can, rather than lamenting what I can't.  (Is that optimism I hear?)

Time to become reacquainted with my kitchen.  (It's on the other side of the dining room.)

Here we go!

Even better than what the doctor ordered

When I last wrote, I was a big ol' mess.  I felt lousy after that training session-gone-kaplooey.  And then it got worse -- my back went out, and when my back goes out it doesn't tiptoe meekly out, but rather slams the door so that dishes fall off shelves, windows shatter, and birds' nests fall from trees.  My back knows how to make an exit.

In a nutshell, I saw some doctors.  One gave me something to make me care less about the pain; the other prescribed yoga & physical therapy.  What neither prescribed but I took on nonetheless was a hiatus.  The most walking I've done is around a few blocks... with my exuberant 60-pound tripod of a puppy, so I guess there might have been some exercise involved.  But that's beside the point.

During my Exercise Exile, I had to fill my time to distract myself from Progress Being Lost. 

• I went to the movies with my kids
• I walked half a mile to a restaurant because its actual location didn't match precisely with what I imagined its location to be
• I ate a slice of cheap bread with salami, popcorn with butter, and even 1/2 a can of diet soda (what IS that stuff?)

And guess what?  I started to feel better.  Not better in my back (it holds a grudge), but better about life. 

That (and the blessed relieved from a hotly changed climate) got me interested in trying some new healthy recipes (Does strawberry banana cream pie count? I made the custard myself!), which gave me to optimism that accompanies creativity.  My sewing machine is looking less like a monster, and scrapbooking supplies are looking shiny & new again.

During this time of actually caring for myself, I found that my appetite dwindled.  How's that for a nice side effect?

Before I got on the scale this morning I thought "It's about time to buy a new scale.  We've had this one forever."  It must have heard me because the number it displayed was enough to make me smile, confirming that caring for myself is good. 

One of the ways I care for myself is exercise.  But exercise isn't my goal.  Love and joy are my goals, and it's time I keep and cultivate that attitude, even in the challenge of jogging at my weight.

My new back doctor is not a fan of pharmaceutical medications.  Instead he focuses on health, on managing our muscles.  I'm really excited to have someone in my corner who brings that optimism -- that I CAN manage my muscles. 

I don't know how to end this rambling today.  I'm just happy and optimistic for the first time in a long time, and all it took to get here was going through some excruciating pain.

If only I could cry

If I were in my counselor's office right now, the conversation would go something like this.

me (sweaty, flushed, shaking):  I'm a quitter.  I actually quit a practice jog today.

c: Okay.  Why did you quit?

me:  Because
*  I was hot,
*  I was jogging faster with this group of strangers than I do on my own,
*  I was jogging late in the day for the first time, having spent a couple days caring for a whole lot of extra lives, and I wanted to rest,
*  I had just jogged up an incline for the first time
*  I was panicking, needing to cry but not being able to
*  I was afraid to keep going
*  I didn't want to keep going

c:  It sounds like you had some good reasons for quitting, but you sound angry.  Why's that?

me:  Because quitting is wrong.  I'm supposed to finish what I start or else I'll never get to where I want to be.  How am I ever going to get in shape if I can't keep up with people?  How am I going to build my endurance when I can't even overcome that critical voice in my head?  I tried, I really did, putting song lyrics in my mind, but I wasn't strong enough.  I just kept thinking about the heat and the incline and the pollution and how tight my throat was and everything I still had to do today.  I'm always going to have things to do -- it's one of the things I like about life.  Being busy, being active.  And there I was being active, and I was overwhelmed and I quit.

c:  If you were talking to a friend of yours about this -- if your friend was the one who had quit, what would you say to him or her?

me:  I'd say it's not the end of the world, and he or she could try again another day, and they should be proud for trying.

c:  What if you were talking to your own kids about this?  What if they quit?  What would you say?

me:  I'd tell them I love them no matter what and that I was so proud of them for jogging as much as they did.  I'd hope that they'd see how far they jogged on the asphalt next to a train.  I'd tell them I was proud of them for getting out there and taking the chance to be with new people on a new course.  I'd tell them that it's going through challenges that makes us stronger, and that they'd already done more than half a mile of something which was scary. 

c:  And what if someone else said to you that you're a quitter.  What if it wasn't you putting yourself down, but someone else?

me:  I'd get really mad at that person, and I'd want to do everything in my power to prove them wrong.  I'd feel competitive.  But as soon as I think that, I think of the 5k I signed up for and I get scared.  I'm going to be the slowest, fattest person out there.  (But I'll be out there, and that's something.)  And I'm tired of being slow and fat.  (I've never been speedy; I had to hit the softball out of the park to give myself time to truck around the bases even when I wasn't overweight.)  I want to see results.  I want to be jogging longer and stronger.  I want to be lean and athletic.  I don't want people to take look at me and judge me to be pathetic.  Which is how I felt today during the jog: a fat pathetic loser.

I really don't know where to go from here.  I'll keep doing my jogging homework and I'll drag my sorry backside through the 5k.   I really want to be able to jog the entire 5k. Right now I can barely jog half a mile.  

I know that I've got a whole lot of good qualities.  But how am I going to get past my mental block? 

Thoughts from the Track

1.  Is a nice cool breeze at the track really too much to provide?  God?  Mother Nature?  Santa Claus?  Anyone?  Now that I'm moving faster longer, I find myself radiating heat and positively glistening (but still not dripping with) sweat, and I can't help but think that running would be easier if I were a little cooler, a little more comfortable.  Which brings me to number two.

2.  I need to change some of my running music.  Too much of it is good spiritually, but it's so soothing that it leads me to envision dropping to the ground and relaxing, watching seagulls and bumblebees.  What do you listen to in order to keep your spirit soaring, your chin up, and your legs pumping?

3.  My fat is tenacious.  I'm engaged in a battle of wills with a monster of my own creation.  When I signed up for Lighten Up and for the triathlon last year, as well as for the 5k training program this year, I naively assumed that my fat would flee in fear.  Upon hearing that my muscles were throwing a coup, my fat would quiver and wobble away.  No such luck.  For something so soft, fat sure has a good grip.  I'm just going to have to keep empowering my muscles.  Which brings me to number four.

4.  Puffing away on the track, trying to put a little spring in my step and good posture in my form, it occurred to me that jogging still ain't easy.  I wondered if it would ever get any easier.  And then I realized that I'm jogging more frequently and for minutes at a time.  I remembered that when I start this training, I was jogging for 60 or 90 seconds at a time.  Now I'm jogging 8 minutes at a time, in between biking to and from the track.  I've come a long way (not as long as I'd like) and made a lot of improvement (not as much as I'd like).  And then there's number five.

5.  Just as I'm cheesed with the Powers That Be for withholding cool breezes for jogging, I'm cheesed with myself for obliterating my hard work by not recording my calories consumed for the past couple weeks.  Sure I'd only be losing a pound a week, but those would be fewer pounds to schlep around the track. 

I'm tired, I'm sweaty, and I'm roasting.  I'm also motivated to jog the 5k in November (plenty of cool breezes then, I'm thinking), to see a less roly poly shadow at the track, and to weigh less than my husband.  So this girl's gotta do what this girl's gotta do: keep improving.  Like the GnR song says: I used to do a little but a little wouldn't do it, so the little got more and more; I just keep tryin' to get a little better, a little better than before.

Dear Diary: The hopeful

Dear Diary,

One of the headlines today reads Hopefuls gather for Biggest Loser auditions.  The hundreds of us who spent hours in line were hopeful that our sixty seconds with the casting director would be enough of a foot in the door to earn a callback.  By the time I was seen, those sixty seconds had been whittled down to twenty seconds.

I'll tell you right now that I didn't get a callback.  My phone was ready for it, but I'm not sure that I was.  On the one hand I'm pretty sure I would have benefited from time away, an extended time to focus on me, me, me.  I'd have given it my all.

On the other hand I have a whole lot of people who depend on me;  my life doesn't happen in a vacuum.  I'm part of a house of cards, and my absence would cause a lot of crashing down. 

Fortunately I also have people who don't depend on me, those pressureless gems who journey with me lightly.  No burden of dependence, but the freedom of choice.

And I have people I depend on; those many people who offer support me, those precious ones who love me.

Hopefuls gather...  It's true that like everyone else in line yesterday I was hopeful of being chosen to be a contestant on The Biggest Loser.  Lose weight real fast through a cram session of hard work with my own team of trainers, doctors, and fellow losers?  Yeah! 

Lucky for me my hope doesn't end with a silent phone.  I know that my future doesn't end with the rejection of a TV production.

I still have hope.

I still have hope that I can continue to set goals, weight-related or otherwise, and that in working toward those goals I gain strength and foster more hope.

Yes, there are times when I continue to be intimidated when I look at how much weight I have to lose.  But I've been teaching myself to shift my focus away from that intimidation.  5k training has been a great way to practice that skill.

I think that when it comes down to it, my biggest challenge is time management.  Recently I've let weeks go by without planning meals, which means more frequent disorganized trips to the grocery store, which means a whole lot of unproductive food in our house and in me.

I know that time management is a struggle for me, particularly when my 3 special blessings -- with all their unique and not-so-unique needs -- are home for the summer.  Time management really is the linchpin.  Successful time management means, in my book anyway, having enough time to care for my needs that I'm empowered to care for those around me.

How great is that?  I have enough knowledge and experience about eating right, exercise, and confidence that I'm ready to take on a new challenge.  Had I been removed from where I am, removed to the Biggest Loser ranch, I would have been getting the wrong stuff.  I'd have been getting stuff I already have.

What I need is here, at home.  What I need is to take all that I have been given and all that I've fought for, and to move forward.

I hope that a year from now I can say that not being chosen for The Biggest Loser was one of the best things to ever happen to my weight loss.  I'm hopeful!

What else can I do?

Every time I look at my 5k training plan, I look at some of the upcoming workouts and question whether I'll be able to do them.  But then I look back at where I started and what I've accomplished since then.

I used to think that I couldn't stand heat and humidity.  It turns out that I really hate the pair of them, but I can stand them, and I can even jog in them.  I know that I can, because I did.

I used to think that I couldn't jog near people who weren't in my corner.  But I did, so I know that I can.

I used to think I that I couldn't jog in new places.  But I did, so I know that I can.

I used to think I couldn't jog all the way around the track.  But I did, so I know that I can.

I doubted my ability to do all these things, and here I am doing them.  It makes me wonder what else I'm capable of. 

Will I jog that entire 5k in November?  Will I get this extra weight off?

I guess I'll have to trust the pattern.

seconds and minutes

I've started and stopped learn to jog programs before, usually before I'm jogging 2-minutes at a time.  I'd get scared.  So when I met up with my group this weekend and we received our assignment, which involved several 3-minute jogs, I wasn't sure what to think.  I was very aware that up to now in this training I'd been thinking solely of seconds -- 60 or 90 at a time.  Suddenly, as when a baby turns 2 years old  and the parents no longer name the age in months but in years, I'm going to be counting my jogs in minutes, not seconds.

I've already made progress with the group.  My hardest week was the second week, when I thought some girls were laughing at me.  It was a back to the schoolyard experience for me.  This time tough, instead of feeling alone,  I knew that I had both a friend and a coach supporting me.  Being able to talk with them and get their feedback and support helped me get past my panic and gave me the ability to grow stronger in my mind and body.

So far I've done the new assignment twice: once with our group and once with my jogging buddy.  I'm happy to say that neither time have I had a stitch in my side or that choking feeling in my throat.  The only thing burning has been my quads, and even that hasn't been bad.  I've wanted to stop, but I haven't needed  to stop.  There's a big difference.  And knowing that I didn't need to stop made me want to keep going.

I'm so happy that I'm learning to jog 3 minutes at a time.  I'm breaking a habit.  I'm learning to conquer the fear that led me to give up on myself.  I've got a couple weeks to work on this 3-minute jog.  After that I'll be ready & willing to take on more.  Maybe 5 minutes?  10 eventually?

I think about the 5k this fall.  I wonder how much I'll be able to jog.  I can't wait to find out.

How I did this week

Well done, me!  The scale showed me down a pound this week.  More importantly I'm feeling stronger, optimistic, and in control.

Food:
Thanks to a Costco run, I made sure the house was stocked with good things for me to eat.  My meals this week were heavy on berries & salad, and a new favorite of mine:  Baja Veggie Burgers by Golden.  Dear me, they are delicious!  No bun needed, just a little Wholy Guacamole and these burgers are perfect!  I even learned that guac, used in moderation, is an awesome salad topper.  Guacamole w/o chips -- who knew?  Well I know now!

Tracking:
I think this is the biggest reason I got the scale to move down again this week -- I measured my portions and looked up/wrote down calorie counts for everything I ate.  I finally found a notebook I like to use (a steno pad), which helps a lot. 

Exercise:
This is what really brought a smile to my face.  I did my 5k training 4 days this week, even jogging in these sauna-like days.  When I was stretching after this morning's work, I noticed that the sunlight shimmering in the sweat on my arm reminded me of the path that leads to the sun as it sets beyond Lake Erie.  I really loved that.
Yesterday alone I swam, biked, walked, and lifted weights.  I accept the fact that I'll never be the first to finish any race.  I'm finally happy with being a workhorse, knowing I won't quit.

So that's it.  That's how my week went.  Lots of sweat, healthy food every day, a couple afternoons when I crashed into a battery-recharing naps. 

I'm excited that I lost a pound, happy that I enjoyed eating well, proud of all the physical work I did, and I'm looking forward another good week.

regrouping

I hardly know where to begin.  I've been thinking a lot lately about how proud I am of some accomplishments of late:
   *  resuming weightlifting
   *  overcoming (w/ the help of a friend) a panic attack during Saturday's jog
   *  doing every single piece of 5k training homework
   *  tracking everything I eat -- not just the food, but the calories, too
   *  giving myself a day of no tracking and a little leeway in eating

I'm being hard on myself too:
   *   I haven't braved a swim suit yet this year, even when the air was stifling and the water was enticing
   *   I abhor everything I see in the mirror (sooner or later you have to look, even if it's just when washing your face -- and I'm not happy with any of it)
  *    I'm assuming that my appearance affects my hirability.

Today I feel like I'm paying my debt to society: I paid the fat tax for an upcoming flight.  Upon reading that one must fit entirely between arm rests 17" apart, I thought I'd better take a look.  It's not easy measuring oneself w/ a ruler, let me tell you.  I layed it across my lap, I sat on it, I stood with it.  No matter the position, the numbers were clear: either book a second seat for myself or half of my body was going to have to stay home.

I have to write this, I have to put it out there.  I have to use this motivation.  No matter what I've done, I can't stop.  I still have so much physical and mental work to do.  I can lift all the weights I want and walk a thousand miles, but if I'm winded from jogging or going up and down the stairs a few times, how in shape am I?

I'm proud and relieved that, for now anyway, I've got a good handle on healthy eating.  I'm going to need that because I've got a monumental goal ahead of me, and I'm going to have to learn to push myself through self-consciousness & panic attacks & public perception.