Running in Circles

"When in trouble,
When in doubt,
Run in circles,
Scream and shout!"

I am not sure to whom I should attribute this fine adage; however, it seems to fit my current affinity for running perfectly. First, let me set your minds at ease. No, I have not relapsed into my panic attack phase. Praise be to my Heavenly Helper, I have only had brief visitations of anxiety lately. Truth be told though, a return to exercise probably does have a little bit to do with this happy fact. Speaking of exercise, today's saying--albeit trite--describes a great experience I had at the track last week.

The track has been a real God-send. You see, I have discovered something about myself. I am not a home exerciser. I will always find something else "more important" to do, and I am very easily distracted. Even if I've started on a planned workout, I will give it up at the drop of a hat. Inevitably , one of the children wakes up; or the phone rings; or the washing machine starts clunking in the middle of the spin-cycle, and threatens to take off of it's own accord, if I don't go down and balance the load.

Consquently, I started looking for another way to get out of the house and exercise. The aerobics classes earlier in the year were wonderful, and I may try to get back to them eventually; but right now, I can't afford to pay for classes. I needed something close, and preferably free. That's when I found out my Alma Mater had an indoor track on the third floor of their new gym (well, new since I went to school), and Alumni could use it for free. This gym is about two minutes from the house. Problem solved.

So how does the adage fit in, you ask? Well consider. "When in trouble . . ." Back in December, I was at a turning point. I was either going to resign myself to the weight gain that just kept happening, or I was going to REALLY lose the weight. I was on the edge of an obese lifesyle and health problems galore. I'd call that trouble.

"When in doubt . . ." Stress. Stress is a big contributor to a lot of bad things. For me, patterns of emotional eating, insomnia, negative thinking, and panic could all be traced back to stress in one form or another. Honestly, I believe that if it had not been for the presence of regular exercise--and God--last spring, I would have succumbed to my anxiety problems a whole lot sooner. On the days that I had an aerobics class scheduled, in the thick of the day's battle, I looked forward to the exercise like it was cake and ice cream.

Why? Well, I think, perhaps, the following elements had something to do with it: removal from the scene of the stress, an increase in seratonin uptake resulting from the exercise, and mental solidarity. I had to leave home to go to aerobics; home was where I was caring for six children under the age of four, five days a week. When I got done with the exercise, no matter how hard the day had been, I felt 95% better and able to go home and enjoy the evening (until I had to think about the morning). As for mental solidarity, I was caught in a multi-tasking vortex. To be able to involve myself in something that required my complete and singular focus, was extremely theraputic.

So this is where we get to "running in circles." Somewhere along the way, I discovered that I enjoyed running. For any of you folks out there who believe whole-heartedly in the doctrine of cessation (basic jist: certain spiritual gifts such as propheticism, speaking in tongues, and miracles, no longer apply) I'm about to blow a whole in your catechism; because me LIKING TO RUN is a modern-day miracle. I'm telling ya', it rates right up there with Mary's face showing up in pizza pan. If you don't believe me, ask my high school P.E. instructor.

I hated running. I hated running because I was already awkward, and running around panting and sweating did not exactly improve the self-image issues going on. I hated running, because we had to run around the outdoor track. In the center of the outdoor track, boys were playing sports. I hated running, because my sports gear was not up to par, and stuff bounced. Stuff bounced while the boys were playing sports and occassionally looking--boys that I had to see next hour in U.S. History.

There you have it. Me, liking to run, is a MIRACLE. I actually LIKE to run around and around and around the track. I like to see how many times I can do it, before I have to call it quits. I like to plan how I'm going to go farther next time. Granted, there are no boys playing sports while I run (but even if there were, they'd be down three stories) and let's just say that sports gear for women has improved a lot in the last twenty or so years.

Now we get to the "scream and shout" part. On Thursday last week, I ran three miles in thirty-two minutes. For me, this is an accomplishment. Again, I have to transport myself back to high school. P.E. was not my favorite subject. In other subjects, I could study hard and do well; in P.E., it didn't matter how hard I tried, I just didn't excell. In fact, I outright flunked tennis. I had a depth perception problem that had not yet been diagnosed (hence, much of the awkwardness, tripping on sidewalk cracks, falling off curbs, etc), and I could not hit that stupid ball to save my life!

Then there was the President's physical fitness test. To get the award, you had to run the mile in 8 minutes 30 seconds (I think). I tried and tried, and finally, on the last day, I did it. I'll never forget my P.E. teacher, standing there with the stop watch, jumping up and down. I was so excited. But I couldn't do a pull-up--one stinking, lousy, good-for-nothing pull-up. So there went the award. No screaming. No shouting.

Thursday, when I got done running my three miles, I was having a private party on the third floor. Then, who should I see three floors down, doing the same thing she'd been doing almost twenty years ago--but my former P.E. teacher. Suddenly, I really DID want to scream and shout. I wanted to yell "Hey down there! Check it out!"

Sigh. Alas, I wanted to continue using the gym in the future, so I restrained myself and kept the party private. On the way home, I contemplated next Tuesday's meeting; I fully anticipated reaching my fifty pound goal! Apparently, something good actually can come from running around in circles. Who'd have thunk?

So, so, so, SO CLOSE!!!

It was 6:00 on Monday, and I was about to weigh in. Last week I weighed-in at 157.8 puonds, which left me only 1.8 pounds to lose before I reached that milestone of 50 pound lost. I had been a very good girl all week, and true to my Week 3 commitment, I had re-evaluated my activity and started running again. I had only used 7 flex points. As Monday approached, I felt like I had a good chance at success, but you just can't know until your staring down that little black box.

Well, here I must confess a certain level of cowardice. I'd walked into my meeting wearing my lightest cotton dress, but when I saw an available scale, I just kept on walking. Maybe I'd go to the bathroom just one more time. After all, it's not fair to get weighed with your last glass of water sloshing around in there. And then it got ridiculous. As soon as I found myself locked behind the bathroom door, I dug through my purse for a ziploc bag (yes, I have a ziploc in my pocketbook; if I was weighed WITH my pocket book, it would set me back 20 pounds).

Anyway, into the ziploc bag went everything non-essential that I could decently remove--my watch, my wedding rings, my earrings, my necklace, and my sunglasses (usually propped on my head). Yes, I sincerely hope I am not the only Weight Watchers members who is this pathetic, but if they had a locked room in which you could remove it ALL, stand on the scale, and have your report print at the front counter; I would be using that little room every week.

Alas, denuding myself of extraneous bling still did not get me quite to the mark. This week I have to lose 0.6 pounds to reach my next goal of 50 pounds. I know I can do it!!!

In the meantime, I need to know what my next goal is, so I don't slow down after the victory dance is over. I know I'd like to see myself running 3 miles, two to three times a week, and I'll also be doing some callistenics along with my husband. Other than that, I just need to keep up all the other good things that I've been doing all along--eating well, blogging, evaluating, and yes, even forgiving myself when I mess up. I just need to start over again at the very next opportunity.

After my 50 pound goal, I will be pressing on towards 149.9. I do not believe I have been anywhere in the 140's since pre-adolescence, and since I didn't have then, things that I do now (hem, skirting TMI here, for my guy readers), I feel like getting into this new realm is going to be a real accomplishment. I'm considering lifetime at about 145 . . . but I won't know for sure until I get there, so no total commitments yet.

For this week, I hope to blog at least twice, because I had big non-scale victory while I was running last Thursday. I'm finding that those victories are just as significant as the ones I have on the little black box. And usually, I can enjoy non-scale victory dances, with all of my accessories ON!

Cowboys and Indians

Have you seen the dust cloud billowing from my general direction? Well, if so, let me explain. Please hark back to the last time you saw an old western. Enter cowboys, steerhands, wagon train, etc, over horizon stage left. Enter Indians, squaws, teepees, and other steriotypes, etc, stage right. Stage left and stage right descend upon one another. The shooting and whooping are deafening. Soon, there is a large dust cloud filling your TV screen, with nothing to distinguish the two sides but muskets and feathers, except perhaps a lucky glimpse of John Wayne somewhere in the midst.

The dust cloud has pretty much been my post-vacation life until this week. Enter "US" stage left--in weary van, with weary drivers, and weary children--on August 17th, late. The first set of Indians was already in place in the form of an invasion. I won't go into pain-staking detail here, but suffice it to say that it took me almost two weeks, 14 cans of Raid, 4 pounds of baking soda, 5 vacuum bags, a jug of detergent, and unknown gallons of water to fix the problem. I had left my house immaculate, so I was not expecting to have to come home and do it all over again.

Enter other Indians in pompous parade, epic style. There was the pile of medical bills, a Medicaid mix-up, and the surprising absense of a particular piece of mail. There was a room that needed to be emptied, taped, tarped, painted, untarped, untaped, and filled--before we planned to start homeschooling on September 6th. Then, five days after our return, my mom ended up very ill and in the hospital. Poor mom! She was there a week before it was all over. The day after mom's surgery, Maggie had another seizure, and it was off to see our friends in the ER. The kids had regular physicals, Wade and I had the dentist, and Maggie had the neurologist and another MRI. Yes, the dust was impressive, and John Wayne was nowhere to be seen. (I suppose this is a relief since The Duke's appearance would have exceeded dust cloud, and rated in the "supernatural event" category, but I digress.)

Anyway, all that to say, the Cowboys and Indians came and went, I kept my trusty tracker by my side at all times, and all was not lost among the choking chaos. As I mentioned last week, on vacation I managed to lose 0.6 pounds. During the week of hospital and doctor dashes, I miraculously left behind 0.2 pounds. Going into the third week, I wasn't sure what to expect of my body, since I didn't seem to be going anywhere fast, but I dropped another point, and used a flex point here and there when I was hungry. Last Tuesday, I lost 2.4 pounds!

Hence, this week I am naturally hopeful that I will be able to lose the 1.8 pounds between me and the big FIFTY POUND victory! It's getting so close, I can almost touch it! This week is week 3C (Week 1C was the week of the pesticides, Week 2C was the week of hospitals and doctors, in case you're wondering). I was supposed to re-evaluate my activity level, and I certainly did. I have discovered that I am a terrible home exerciser. I plan to do it, but I just don't. I have to get out of the house. Consequently, I've found a local gym with an indoor track that I can use for free year round. Perfect! Tuesday, I ran 2 miles, and walked my third in about 40 minutes. Thursday, I pushed hard, and ran 3 miles in 32 minutes. A 10 minutes 20 second mile is a new record for me, and I can't wait to go again next week.

This coming week (starting Tuesday) I will be sending a couple extra blogs your way. I need to lay out what my plans are for the last 17 weeks of this year, and I need to talk about where I am in this whole process anyway. There just doesn't seem to be as much to write about--but that's because this is a process and not a destination. In a process, you're bound to re-visit goals, challenges, failures, and victories; because everything is a cycle. I starting to realize it's how you cope with the cycle that matters.

So how am I coping? Pretty good overall, I'd say. I only had one true black out. I woke up in the middle of the dust cloud, surrounded by the din of stress, hormones, and circumstances--and in front of me lay three carcases: an Angus 1/3 pound burger box, a french fry bag, and a forlorn and empty milkshake cup. DID I DO THAT?! Well, bless my heart!

Giddy-yap

Well, you're probably wondering why my two week vacation was only 3 days long, huh? Arg. It really was two weeks long, I promise; however, my return home derailed the blog train, and now I feel hopelessly behind in that department. Consequently, I shall acquiesce to circumstance, and take a lesson from past scrap-booking endeaveors. I shall summarize high-lights and move onto present events.

First of all, to satisfy morbid curiosity—yes, I returned home victorious. I missed two meetings while we were away, but regardless, I hosted my own Monday morning motel meetings with my family gathered round. Yes, much to my husband's chagrin, the little pink scale traveled with us all the way to Maine and back. I continue to maintain that a sense of accountability is the ounce of prevention that's worth a pound of cure with me (of course the pound of cure doesn't count on weigh-in day). Along those same lines, I did indeed, maintain. Upon my return to Greenville, I weighed in having lost 0.6 pounds.

So what were my other lessons and highlights during the road-trip of the decade?

Highlight: I fit beautifully into my bride's maid dress. It was even a touch big on me. I won't ever have to look at those pictures and regret what I looked like on that special day.

Lesson: If there is a CHOCOLATE FOUNTAIN at a wedding reception, get your skinny butt in the line. If your butt is not as skinny as you want it to be yet, get in line anyway! Tomorrow is another day, and pretty sure there is not a chocolate fountain in it.

Highlight: Having your husband ask you where the new you was on the day you got married, and being able to assure him that you were really in there all the time. Duh. Like he didn't know!

Lesson: A plan can get you through about anything on target—even three hour stop-and-go traffic trying to get over the George Washington Bridge in New York City.

Highlight: Enjoying family, and still feeling comfortable enough with your new lifestyle that you don't feel uncomfortable doing what you need to do to take care of yourself at meals.

Lesson: Tracking and planning the 95% of the time that you CAN, will make up for the 5% of the time when chaos, mayhem, and leftovers make tracking and planning impossible, impractical, or at the very least, no fun.

So there you have it. On August 17th LATE, we returned home. I was refreshed and without regret and I was ready to Giddy-yap into the final 17 weeks on 2010. Of course, that's when the Cowboys and Indians showed up and started to kick up a real dust cloud, but you'll just have to read about that next time, won't you?

Pre-Wedding Points--Day 3

Friday was the day before the wedding, and it promised to be extremely busy from beginning to end. I started the day with my planner, trying to make the best plans I could for success. I knew I would not have time for my usual mid-morning snack, so I ate a little more at breakfast, choosing my food carefully so I'd make it to lunch without being starved. I had a slice of whole wheat toast with peanut butter and a hard boiled egg. Coffee, of course, goes without saying.

After a morning of decorating and running errands up and down stairs, I arrived back at the hotel for lunch with a big appetite. I allowed for my full six-point lunch, and packed a Fiber One bar for a snack later on in the afternoon. I had determined to keep most of my day normal, even if the evening marked the beginning of the time I'd cordoned off to begin using my flex points.

So what is normal for me lately? Having recently reached my 45 pound goal, my Weight Watchers leader suggested I go ahead and drop my next point. That left me with 21 points a day, and staying within those boundaries is a lot more challenging than I sometimes expect it to be. After a week of frustration, I decided I needed some mental markers to help keep me on track during the day—even if my tracker wasn't with me at all times.

My mental markers are something like the following: Breakfast—2 points; Mid-morning snack—2 points; Lunch—5 points; Mid-afternoon snack—3 points; Dinner—6 points; Before-bed snack—3 points. Of course, these markers are flexible, but they really help on a busy day, and I'm enjoying a lot more success. I don't get surprised so often with fewer points than appetite in the evening.

On Friday evening, I enjoyed a Routin' Tootin' Rehearsal Dinner with all the trimmings. The theme was western, since the bride and groom eventually hope to move out west, and I didn't hear anyone complain about the spread. I sure didn't! My tastebuds danced from my sloppy joe to my coleslaw to my baked beans. I even ate a cupcake! From Friday evening to Saturday evening, I put aside my own journey to walk beside a dear friend as she began a new journey of her own, and successful journeys—as any ex-dieter can attest—are not begun with hopes of a quick sprint to the end, but rather with anticipation of a slow and prosperous sojourn!

Continental Quandaries--Day 2

The continental breakfast. This hotel/motel innovation is both a blessing and a bane—a blessing, because it means one does not have to dress one's entire family and schlep out to Burger King for breakfast, all before a decent cup of coffee. The bane of the continental breakfast comes when one considers the bombardment of the buffet. Normally, I eat very few of my points before noon—on average, about four. This moderate commitment feels fairly impossible in the face of a line-up of toast, English muffins, bagels, danishes, bear claws, muffins, cereal, eggs, sausage, french toast sticks, and a Belgian waffle machine. Again, a plan is very helpful.

Without a plan, I never would have made it past the continental breakfast on Thursday morning. I had made plans to meet two of my friends for coffee at Starbucks on Thursday morning, and I was going to use my two points from breakfast to have a Light Frappacino. This of course meant, that I needed to pass on all of the goodies on the breakfast buffet. I filled my coffee cup, sat with the family, and resisted the urge to deviate from the plan so early in the vacation. My Frappacino tasted a little better because of it, I think.

After meeting my friends and having a wonderful visit, I went back to the hotel
and enjoyed being with my family. At noon, I prepared the meal I'd planned (we had a small kitchenette) and ate accordingly. While the children napped, I took advantage of the fitness center. For 35 minutes I ran like a crazy woman, and made it almost 3 miles. With nearly 350 burned calories banked, I'd racked myself up an extra 7 points. Those points came in handy about 10:00 that night when I was genuinely hungry, and needed to eat a few extra points to get me through. Because I'd stayed active, I didn't have to feel bad about finishing that can of low calorie soup alongside a glass of milk. So far so good.

The Skinny on Vacation--Part I

There's nothing like a long vacation to make you appreciate home sweet home! We had a wonderful time traveling to Virginia for Andrea and Paul's wedding, and staying with vacationing with family in Maine was incredible fun. If you're wondering why you haven't heard from me during all that time, it's because though I could construct blogs in my word processor, I was blissfully disconnected from the internet, so I've been saving them up. So here it is, the skinny on how I managed to stay skinny on, even on vacation.

Day 1

In all honesty, as I write, today is not Day 1, it is more like Day 5. Our grand exodus from home took place on Wednesday night (August 4), and the beginning of the week was chalked full of preparations. One can't exactly leave for a two week family sabbatical without some heavy fore-planning. On the same note, one cannot leave on a two week out-of-towner without some serious contemplation in regards to eating and activity—at least not if one desires to return home without extra pounds as souvenirs.

My goal for this vacation has simply been to maintain my weight. I want to enjoy the vacation, and I definitely had every intention of eating wedding cake on my friend's big day. After all, it would be a crime for the Matron of Honor NOT to sample the cake; however, I was determined to track like an angel right up to the rehearsal dinner at 6:00 on Friday. But Friday is Day 3; let's stick with Day 1.

Wednesday, I'm pretty sure I earned some activity points with all that packing and hauling luggage out to the car, but I didn't track or eat any activity points there. That's sure to be a plus. By early afternoon, I had everything packed into the car except the family and the cooler. On Monday and Tuesday I'd taken care of grocery shopping, and I had taken special care to plan for foods that would keep the family and my tracker happy.

When we arrived at our hotel early Thursday morning (we didn't crash until 3am!) I had only eaten 21 points since Wednesday at 7:00 am. Success during this very LONG day was attributable to two things—products and planning.

First of all, I had things in my cooler that were going to help me be successful—water, diet sodas, fiber one bars, Weight Watchers Multi-grain Crisps, fat free yogurts, whole grain pitas, hummos, and hard boiled eggs—just to name a few. Secondly, I had rationed my points during the first part of the day (up until we left) to just what was necessary to stay well fueled with filling foods. I'd had a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast, a three point salad for lunch, and a fiber one bar when I needed a boost in the middle of loading the car.

Secondly, before we left, I took time to plan how often and how much I was going to eat as we traveled. We pulled out at 4:10 in the afternoon, and my tracker pulled out with me. My plan was already written out, to help me stay true to what I WANTED while we traveled. At 5:30, I ate 6 points for dinner in the form of an egg salad pita and an apple. At 7:30, I had my Multi-grain Crisps and a Diet Dr. Pepper. At 10:30, I had one oatmeal raisin cookie and a fat free yogurt. My final three points—a fiber one bar and ½ cup of 1% milk—I held onto for right before bed, so I wouldn't be kept up by the hungries. For the notorious highway munchies, I went armed with a bag of baby carrots.

I won't say I wasn't tempted by gas station goodies, and the aroma of French fries during McDonald's potty stops, but because I had a plan, it was much easier not to sabotage myself in those situations. Mentally I won some battles too, because when I started to have those negative thoughts of deprivation, (you know, “But you're on VACATION! Don't you deserve to have some fun in the form of a big fat greasy burger and a large fry . . .) I was able to make a pretty quick comeback. I was able to remind myself that what was better than the big burger and fries, was not having to pack my big jeans because my life is run by an uncontrollable cycle of food and guilt. Yep. This vacation, I'm running the show—not the value menu!