Thursday, February 24, 2011


I was able to sleep without much pain in my side/back last night, and the pain was practically nonexistent during work yesterday (though the nausea remains), so I decided to return to PowerCut this morning.

The alarm went off at 7:20, and after a few "snooze" attempts, I tried to talk myself out of it: It may be too soon to go back. You may hurt yourself again. Take another day off.

But I realized that was just the laziness talking.

The class was OK. For the most part, I felt fine. But there was one exercise that brought back the side pain x 200. The exercise where you're in a pushup position, with your feet on an exercise ball and you roll the ball in and out. Just putting my feet on the ball, the pain screamed. So I had to sit it out.

After class, I was pooped. I hadn't eaten much the night before because I had over-snacked in the afternoon, so my tank was on empty. But I was already outside and knew I needed to at least walk 3 miles. Luckily, I found some energy and ran about half the 3.

Home now, I am very glad I talked myself out of another lazy day. I'm hurting a bit - and what's with this nausea? - but at least I burned some calories.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm returning to bed!

Wednesday, February 23, 2011


Ups and downs, I tell you, are going to be the death of me.

I had a good run on Sunday. I did 10 miles, which made me very happy, because it keeps me on track for the Shamrock Half Marathon in less than a month.

But then, around Mile 8, I fell. I scraped up my elbow, but besides that and my clothing covered in dirt, there didn't appear to be any bad side effects. I got right back up and kept on running. I even ate well on Sunday and just had a big salad.

Monday, I woke up feeling nauseated with a backache. The backache turned into pain in my lower right abdomen. The pain and nausea were so bad I called in sick to work and kept the electric blanket wrapped around me.

The pain was still bad Tuesday, so I went to the doctor. He said the pain could be from the fall. Or it could be unrelated and my appendix. I'd just have to wait and see if the pain got worse. Tuesday at work was hard and uncomfortable.

Today, the pain in the side has subsided, but the nausea still comes and goes and the back pain is still there - now more of a discomfort.

So I suppose I did more than scrape my elbow on that run.

What it's done is sideline me from all exercise this week, which, in turn, has made me incredibly depressed. I missed my PowerCut class on Tuesday and I haven't run (or walked) since Sunday. I had plans to make this week a big push to meeting my monthly weight-loss goal (or getting close) but, instead and once again, I'm doing worse.

It's always something with me, isn't it?

Thursday, February 17, 2011

On my way

I'm pleased to say I returned to the PowerCut class at 8:15 this morning. I took an Advil before the class b/c I was still mega sore from Tuesday's workout. I think it helped a lot, because while the class was still killer, at least I was able to crunch and squat and lunge and lift, whereas I had trouble bending down to tie my shoe last night.

After class, like on Tuesday, I set out for a run. On Tuesday, I found the task impossible. I couldn't even lift my feet off the ground. Today, though, I took a deep breath and began a slot trot. It was tough but I did it.

Now it's not even 11 a.m. and I've managed to log an hourlong class plus a three-mile run. It's a gorgeous day, and I'm really glad I was able to get out there.

It took me a long time to find the courage to attend the class, but my hope is that, now that I've started, I'll commit myself to the Tuesday/Thursday workouts. Maybe the guilt of not attending and disappointing the instructor will keep me going.

P.S. It really is true. No other woman in that class weighs more than 130 pounds. I find myself singing "One of these things is not like the other..."

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Inside my head (warning: it's scary)

Saturday afternoon, post race: I just ran 9 miles! It's the weekend! I'm going to splurge a little at the grocery store. I'm picking up a half dozen cupcakes. I'm putting down a half dozen cupcakes. I'm picking them up and putting them in my cart. I'm circling around the grocery store, back to the bakery and putting the cupcakes back on the shelf. I decide to instead buy one nice cupcake at the cupcake store.

Saturday, a half hour later: I buy two cupcakes.

Sunday night: I've eaten so poorly all weekend. I'll start over tomorrow. But as it's not tomorrow yet, let me eat one last bad meal.

Monday afternoon: Kelly Osbourne looked so pretty at the Grammys. I want to look like her. I must start eating better.

Monday, 4:01 p.m.: "Don't look over there," my co-worker tells me as my eyes land on the spread of Valentine's Day treats at work. Red velvet cupcakes. Chocolate-covered strawberries. Cream puffs.

Monday, 4:30 p.m.: I eat one chocolate-covered strawberry and a bunch of cantaloupe.

Monday night: I've been staring at my co-worker's Girl Scout cookies all night. It's not too late to order some from his daughter. Do I buy some? I pick up a box and look at the calories. I could just save them for a day when I splurge. But then, that could end up being tonight knowing me.

Monday, midnight: I'm smiling, glad that I've resisted the cupcakes and cream puffs and Girl Scout cookies. I set my alarm for 7:30 a.m. to try a PowerCut class, for the first time in two years.

Tuesday, 7:30 a.m.: I step on the scale. I've gained 10 pounds since Saturday. I laugh out loud. Like I really consumed 30,000 calories in three days? I don't think so. I hate my body and my yo-yo dieting lifestyle.

Tuesday, 8:15 a.m.: I stare at my fat body in the mirror at the gym. What have I become?

Tuesday, 8:17 a.m.: Two minutes into the warmup, I realize how few muscles I must be using running/spinning because these muscles haven't been used in two years.

Tuesday, 9:00 a.m.: The fat on my body is in the way of doing this exercise. It's an ab workout but I can't even bend my body that way without the fat getting in the way. No one in this class weighs more than 130 pounds.

Tuesday afternoon: A tray of cookies arrives at work. Whatever. I'm not tempted, but it may be because I can't get out of my chair because it hurts too much, from my legs to my abs to my arms.

Tuesday night: I ate too many Weight Watchers ice cream treats. It's the curse of working the day shift and coming home and watching TV. I'm still under my calorie allotment (if you count the calories burned today) but dammit, why did I do that?

Wednesday morning: It hurts to move. The goal is to run (or walk) and then take a mid-week spin class. But I can barely type. Oh what will today bring?

Saturday, February 12, 2011

Not too shabby

After a decent 8-mile run last Sunday, I made the last-minute decision to sign up for the Virginia is for Lovers 14K (8.7-mile) race. I've run the race every year since it began in 2009 (OK, well, twice) and had hoped to continue the streak. But I was worried. I didn't want to injure myself. I didn't want to log another Did Not Finish in my race history. And, once I again, I'm heavier than last year. Needless to say, I was a little worried leading up to today.

I only had about five hours of sleep, but that's pretty normal the night before a race. As I huddled in the corral before it began, nerves fluttered in my belly. The thing about races, for me, is that I never know until I start running whether it will be OK or not. There have been times I hefted my body into a trot only to discover that my legs were like lead and the mileage ahead was going to be brutal.

With the colder weather and recent troubles with my tight calves, I also was worried about how much time it would take to loosen up.

With the sound of the starter horn blaring, I discovered that my legs weren't as fresh as I'd have liked, but they weren't iron pegs, either. I started off slow, sped up in the middle, was somewhat consistent doing the 3/2 run/walk, but toward the end was feeling the added distance. It had been quite awhile since I'd run more than 8 miles.

As is custom at the VFL race, I was greeted at the end with a medal and a firefighter holding out a carnation. In years past, my firefighter hasn't been too thrilled to do the job. Maybe by the time I crossed the finish line he had seen thousands of other women, most pretty hot in their tiny runner's clothes, and seeing me wasn't treat. I think one year my firefighter even called me "ma'am." But this guy was nice. A most perfect carnation passed into my still-gloved hand as the firefighter said - not "Congratulations" or "Good job" but - "Happy Valentine's Day."

After cleaning up, I got into the car to meet a good friend for lunch. The line of cars leading out to Princess Anne Road was huge. I sat after the red light turned green and back to red a few cycles. It was a gorgeous day (finally!) and my car window was down. In the past few weeks, as my weight has gone up and down, so has my spirit. I've seen some very low days. But sitting in that car, my perfect carnation sitting next to me, the sun shining in my open window and a lunch to look forward to (along with a day off work), I could feel my spirit lifting. The run had been good. I finished. I wasn't hurting, beyond the normal I-just-ran-8.7-miles soreness. And at that moment, all seemed peaceful.

That's when I heard the little voice off to the left.

"Not too shabby."

I looked over, only to see this toddler (I'd say 2 or 3 years old) sitting in his carseat in the back of his dad's truck. His window was open, too. And on his face was the biggest smile I'd ever seen. A genuine smile. A flirty smile. I laughed and laughed and smiled back at the little man who - for who knows what reason - had just told me "Not too shabby."

I continued to wait at the red light. I creeped ahead when it turned green and stopped seconds later when it was red again. And soon, my mind had already drifted to thoughts of "Why is this traffic light so long?"

Then I heard him again.


Again with the big ole smile.

I smiled back, and, soon, my car was finally moving.

It was a good day. For a girl who doesn't have a Valentine this Valentine's Day, I still got the flower, the flirty smile and a third 14K race under my belt.

I'd say, all in all, not too shabby.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

January recap

Oh, January has had its ups and downs and downs and way downs, but overall it was a success for two reasons: I did lose some weight and I exercised more than last January.

The goals:
Lose 9 pounds
Exercise more than 12 days

How did I do?
I lost 6.6 pounds
Exercised 17 days. (If you count the days I just did a mini workout during my work shift, either by doing steps or a 1-mile loop, the total is 24 days.)

The month had been going much better prior to last week. I had lost even more weight and things were going well. But last week was rough. I fumbled big-time.

But perhaps that's the benefit of having monthly goals. I still lost weight. I messed up, yes. But Feb. 1 is a tad lighter than Jan. 1 and right now that's how I've got to look at things.

Now on to February. Here are the goals:
Lose 11.4 pounds (to keep me on track toward my first big goal of under 200 by May 1)
Exercise more than 10 days

I've been having some shin/knee/calf difficulties lately, so if they persist, I will have to find other ways to exercise and that might get tough. And I realize the weight goal may be unrealistic, but it's just a goal. I'll do my best.