Tis The Season

Not much going on as far as training goes.  I'm exercising regularly, but not with any particular focus; just taking it day by day and doing whatever seems interesting or fits into my schedule.  After all the holiday craziness dies down I'll map out a program and (yes really) start biking and swimming.  I'm too distracted right now to take anything too seriously.  Tis the season for parties and I love me a good party.

Rock on.

The gingerbread house my oldest and I decorated.

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Gobble Gobble GACK!

Like the tasty birds that give their lives for our nourishment, my Turkey Trot was sacrificed this year.

During a record cold snap our furnace died.

The day before Thanksgiving.

It's all good now, but it was chaos for 24 hours and in all the craziness the Turkey Trot was chopped.  However, I'm not disappointed because some truly awful weather accompanied that cold snap.  Before discovering our furnace was kaput I had already decided not to take a chance driving up and down the hilly winding roads to get to and from the race when snow and freezing rain where predicted nor did I want to risk injury slipping on ice.  One of my life goals is to never spend a holiday in the ER.

So no Turkey Trot this year, but I did exercise over the weekend and ran a 5k yesterday.  It was freezing and my time sucked.  I guess all the rich food is catching up with me.  Oh well, tis the season.

In honor of the holiday here's some things I'm thankful for as an athlete:

• Wide waist bands in workout pants.
• Electrolyte jelly beans.
• My iPod.
• My supportive and enthusiastic blog followers.
• My understanding husband who never hardly ever complains about the time I spend training. (Love you, hon!)
• My darling boys who give me a reason to take care of myself.

How about you?  What are you thankful for?

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Earning Turkey

I registered to run a 5k on Thanksgiving morning.  Hey, it was a good way to get me out of cooking duties.  Besides, after the 10k, 5k seems like small potatoes (Thanksgiving feast pun intended), but I know the area where the course is and it's crazy hilly so I could be in for a challenge.  I kinda hope so.  Bring it on, Motherf@&$ers!  My goal is to run it in under 27 minutes since my last 5k time back in April was 27:38 (or something like that).

Next goal: half marathon (13 miles)!



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Pants Photo

Um, yeah, about that....

I should have taken the photo last month when I wore the pants to a friend's birthday bash.  They looked great then, but (and it's a big butt) I started that part-time job and slacked off on the working out.  Unfortunately, I neglected to adjust my high caloric intake to match my new routine and after Halloween and my birthday... well I'm finding the pants are once again a tight squeeze.  Whatever.  I'm really not stressing about it.  I realized I'm experiencing a pendulum effect; that is I'm bouncing back and forth between two extremes, but eventually I'll settle somewhere in the middle.  And I'm certainly not going to worry too much about dieting this time of year.  I am going to start exercising more though.  To the Y!



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Why I Didn't Post Last Week

It's a mystery on scale with the abandoned car mat.  I DID publish last week, but when I logged in today to view my blog, not only is the most current post not there, but what's saved in my drafts folder is the first version, not the finished post I spent a good hour re-working.  I have no idea what happened, but I'm frustrated. I'll eventually re-post, but I need some distance first.

Blarg.



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It's Good to be Me

Note: This is the post that didn't post....

I've been working on this for over two weeks.  I started a part-time job assisting a CAbi consultant (Best.  Job.  Ever.)  and dumped the shows on top of my already busy schedule.  Plus my laptop was in the shop and my computer access limited.  Gotta love Apple though for completing an $1,800 repair job on a cracked screen (my carelessness; and here I always assumed it would be the boys) for $0.00.  Yay Apple!  And then there was the whole not-posting fiasco, but...

Hold on...

As I was writing about how hard it's been to find time to write I was interrupted by my oldest barging into the room asking me to unknot his Boba Fett belt.  That took a good 2 minutes.  I turned back to the keyboard when my youngest pushed past Boba Fett yelling, "I wan' peanut bubber pretzels, MOM!  I WAN' peanut BUBBER pretzels!!"  I dished out the requested pretzels (after asking for a polite "please") and should now have approximately 7 minutes to complete the following story which took place over 14 days ago.

********************************************************************************

So tonight I'm plugging away on the elliptical, the one where you also use your arms, when I become aware of the gorgeous girl next to me.  We are in front of a mirrored wall so it's inevitable I'll check her out and I'm impressed to see her machine is set on max resistance, but she's keeping pace with little ole me working out at half that (actually I believe my first thought was "holy f--k, are you kidding me?)  Now I really give her the once over, I mean, who is this woman?  I'm reassured to see she is, at least, red-faced and sweaty, but even so she's foxy--tall, thin, blonde, fantastic arms and shoulders--you know the type.  I feel like a short, flabby troll next to her.  But I crank up my resistance a few notches.

After a while, I sneak another peek.  Despite myself I'm kinda digging this chick who unknowingly inspired me.  No longer blinded by jealousy I view her more objectively.  She's beautiful, no doubt, but she's not perfect.  Her butt is on the flat side and there is not much going on up top either.  Suddenly, instead of feeling fat, I feel bootylicious.  I realize comparing us is like comparing a 1 and an 8; who is to say which is more aesthetically pleasing?  They are what they are.  She and I are both beautiful in our own ways.  So while my new friend robotically puffs aways next to me, I bop around, lip syncing my dorky heart out having a blast as confident and comfortable in my own skin as I've ever been.



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Bring It On, Motherf@$*%$s!

I'd rather burn out than never have pushed.


I'd rather hear "no" than never have asked.


I'd rather tone it down than never have amped it up.


Failure means you went for it.


Always go for it.




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Writer's Block

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Why I Ran Today

WARNING:  I'm cranky.

I planned on using the elliptical and keeping it low impact today, but my plans abruptly changed when I got to the Y Family Center because Lady Loud was already on one of the ellipticals.

Who is Lady Loud, you ask?

Well, I don't rightly know since I have never met her (on purpose), but I do know quite a bit about her.  For instance I know she has a teenage son with a beautiful girlfriend he can't keep his hands off (see my post, Tales From the Y) and that his delivery was long and arduous (or as she calls it "the BEST BIRTH CONTROL EVER!)  I also know prior to today she had never before seen an episode of Everybody Hates Chris, but now thinks it "precious" and "hilarious."  And, most irritatingly, I know she has a younger son, Maximilian, whom she laughingly refers to as her "mid-life baby" who does NOT come to the Y with her, yet she still works out in the Family Center (again see, Tales From the Y, for my thoughts on THAT.)

In the beginning, I thought she actually knew the women she was talking too.  The details she shares are, I think, fairly intimate.  So she has these long, intimate, LOUD conversations with people and then when they inevitably leave (Lady Loud works out forever) she cheerfully asks their names and shouts at their departing backs, "I'll be here tomorrow!"  She'll talk to anyone at any time about any thing.  She is a talking magician, conjuring conversations out of thin air.  I avoid her at all costs even if it means my knees will sulk and punish me for the rest of the day.  I have absolutely no interest in hearing about her convoluted PTA drama.  Well, strike that.  If I'm completely honest with myself I kinda do want to (over)hear her drama, but I don't want to listen to her loudly fake-whisper about her drama.  I don't know if she's lonely, compulsive, oblivious or what, but I do know I'd rather listen to whining kids than her shouted life happenings.  And that's saying a lot.

See?  Cranky.


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Back in The Saddle Again

Bike saddle that is.

Ugh.  My workout routine was rudely disrupted this past week by a series of opportunities to indulge in my favorite vice; baked goods.  Children's birthday parties, friendly get togethers, and a ginormous bake sale all conspired against me.  I am left a bloated, exhausted, and jittery victim of sugar overload.  I went to the Y on Thursday and almost tossed my cookies on the elliptical (pun very much intended).  TMI?  Well, that's what this blog is about; documenting the good, the bad, and the ugly on my road to becoming a triathlon.   The past 8 days were definitely ugly.

Tomorrow I'm back though!  I'm going to provide my body the fuel it needs to get through my increasingly ambitious workouts.  I will be back in that unbelievably uncomfortable training-bike saddle tomorrow night.  That's my promise to myself.


Peace out.



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It's Time

If I'm going to consider myself officially training for a triathlon I need to start swimming and biking.  I've been putting it off because, well, because swimming is hard and I don't have a bike.  Pretty good reasons, but the time for reasons excuses has passed.  I need to get my butt in the water and on a bike.  Not at the same time though.

So I looked up the pool schedule at my local Y to find a time I can drown swim laps.  I didn't realize Y employees are comedians.  They listed the morning lap swim as starting at 4:45 a.m.  A.M.  As in 4:45 in the morning.  I'm laughing so hard my sides hurt.  Seriously, hold on, it's hard to type with tears in my eyes.

Ok, I've recovered my composure.  Swimming at 4:45 in the morning?  That is just INSANE!  Who is even working at the Y at 4:45 in the morning, much less swimming?  I probably don't need to tell you that this night-owl triathlete will not be swimming, or doing anything other than dreaming, at 4:45 in the morning.  That means I need to find another time.  Unfortunately, the rest of the schedule is hard to decipher.  I guess I'll have to ask someone when I'm there tonight.  I'm telling you all this to hold myself accountable.  I am going to start swimming laps at least once a week starting next week.

As for the biking, for now I'll be doing that on a stationary bike since, although a friend graciously offered to let me borrow her bike, I don't have a helmet.  I'll start doing the stationary bike at least once a week starting tonight until I can get a properly fitted helmet.

Alright, that's enough goals for one day.



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Tough Cookie

I'm getting calluses on my palms.

I can't decide if they are bitchin' or gross.  I must be leaning towards the latter since I bought lifting gloves.  Well, technically, they are "fitness gloves" according to the packaging.  I don't know there is a difference other than marketing terms.  I don't think I'll worry about hubby borrowing them:

Cute, right?

I'm amassing a shitload of equipment.  I own assorted weights, a resistance band and a toning bad (one is for arms, one is for legs), a plethora of DVDs, a yoga mat, running shoes, crosstrainers, 6 pairs of workout pants, 4 pairs of workout shorts, a bunch of sports bras, an iPod, an armband to hold my iPod, bottles of supplements and vitamins....  I could open my own gym.  And I still need a bike and everything that comes with that, a swimsuit for actual swimming, and a cap.  Geez.  Hey, honey, here's an answer to where all our money is going.  Who knew being fit meant I'd need an extra storage shed?

It's worth it though.  If you read this blog regularly you know I don't always feel that way, but most days I do.  Even if my pants are tight, there's no denying I'm in better shape than your average American.  Hm.  That sounds conceited.  I don't mean to brag.  But I'm doing it, you know?  It feels good just to say I'm doing it.  No excuses.

Several of you have told me you find this blog inspiring.  I hope so!  Even if just one of you makes one change towards a healthier, more active lifestyle, I can die knowing I made a difference in the world.  I don't want to die though.  Hear that, God?  Not yet, ok?  It's just a figure of speech. 

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Progress

They fit.

I tried on the pants last night and, not only was I able to button them, I could breathe AND sit down.  Definitely not as roomy as I prefer, but wearable.  Yay!  My favorite pair of jeans back in circulation.  I still have a month left before I promised I would post a picture and I'm going to take that time so no photo yet.  I'm more motivated than ever now that I finally see my hard work paying off; especially since I was recently discouraged to see some videos hubby posted online(!) featuring our adorable boys and my not so adorable mid-section.   Note to self: threaten ask hubby to please, from now on, only film me from the boobs up.

PS  How cool is the strikethrough feature?  I noticed it a few weeks ago and have just been dying to use it.



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I Can See Clearly Now

The rain's not gone, but my glasses are.

They've been gone for almost 3 years now.  It's a miracle!

My eyesight was quite poor and that's putting it mildly.  In truth, I was bat blind.  I know everyone says that, but I really was.  Nobody believed me until they put my glasses on. Invariably I got this reaction:

"Whoa!  Holy cow.  You can see through these?  You are blind!"

Yep.  Myopic, to be technical.  Nearsighted.  I couldn't see things far away and by far away I mean about a foot from my face.   Your average prescription is between -1 and -5.  My eyes were -9 and -9.5.  To put it in perspective, -20 is legally blind.  I once asked an optometrist, "if 20/20 is normal vision, what am I?"  His response:

 "20/lousy.  Seriously, the scale doesn't go up that high.  It stops at 20/400."

Whoa, indeed.

But now, I can see without the aid of contacts or glasses.  And, no, I did not have Lasik, smartypants.  I was laid on hands by a faith healer.

Just kidding.  That would be a miracle.

No, it was just an ophthalmologist who is very, very good at his job.  I want to protect his privacy (although he might not mind the publicity), but if you want a recommendation for any eye procedure, let me know.  Dr. R is the best.  It doesn't hurt that he's cute either.  I've never had a hero crush on anyone before, but the man gave me eyesight.  How could I not worship him?

I got to see him today.  It was my annual checkup.  That's why it's on my mind.  If you're wondering what this all has to do with training for a triathlon, let me tell you how freakin' brilliant it is to not have to wear glasses while working out.  Especially while swimming or running in the rain.  And I don't have to fuss with contacts either, although strictly speaking, I do wear them.  Sort of.  But they are in my eyes.  That's right.  In.  My.  Eyes.  

I had non-phakic IOL.  If you are the curious type and not squeamish about eyeballs you can watch a two-minute video explaining the procedure.  A miracle of science, no?  I think so.  Especially since the only downside is I always have red-eye in photos.  Small price to pay.  (Although the procedure itself was not a small price, but still... totally worth it.)

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You Go Girl!

No, I'm not congratulating myself.  That's the name of the 10k race I ran on Sunday.

Despite my crossed fingers and fervent wishing it was raining.  Bummer way to start the morning.  Waking was tough enough already since the night before was exhausting.  We battled record crowds at the state fair and stayed late (for us) to watch a friend's son's band.  Totally worth it!  Awesome show.  And our boys were agreeable and co-operative which means we all enjoyed ourselves.

But I woke up tired and not at all enthused about running in the rain.  My husband wisely advised me not to psych myself out before I even began.  I was concerned though about what to wear.  I haven't run competitively since high school which means I haven't run in the rain since high school.  (Why run in the rain if you don't have to?  Especially when the Y is only a mile away.)  I have a lightweight rain jacket, but it's not fitted and doesn't breathe well.  However, I wanted something waterproof to wear over my ipod.  I wasn't sure how it would hold up in the rain.  Not only did I not want to ruin it, but I wasn't entirely convinced wet headphones wouldn't fry my brain.  I settled on wearing the coat because I knew if I overheated I could take it off and tie it around my waist.  I made the right choice.  I did end up removing it while running, but I was grateful for it while warming up.

I wouldn't call waiting around for the race to start fun necessarily, but it was entertaining.  There was live music and lots to see like ironic t-shirt slogans (my favorite: This seemed like a good idea 3 months ago), dogs in rain gear, and men in tutus (the race was a breast cancer research fundraiser and technically for women only, but men were allowed to participate as long as they donned something pink).  And there were dozens of women wearing baseball hats and garbage bags.  Bizarre at first sight, but when I thought about it very smart; caps don't hinder your vision as much as a hood and the bag is light weight and easily handed off, wadded up in a pocket, or discarded in a trash can at any point during the race.  Lesson learned.  Finally, I chatted up the ladies in front of me in line for the bathroom because they appeared lean, relaxed, seasoned runners.  They both had earphones slung around their necks and assuaged my fears about using my ipod by swearing they had never had their brains fried.

Despite all my worrying I loved every second of the race.  I truly did.  The cheering crowds, the National Anthem, the water station sponsored by the cute "Single Guys" trying to get numbers, the cops stopping traffic for us, the feeling of sisterhood, and the satisfaction of completing a goal added up to a fantastically good time.  The running seemed effortless.  The course was more uphill than I expected, but lots of downhill too and I had no trouble keeping a brisk pace.  In fact, I beat my personal best by a full two minutes.  My official time was 55:49 which means I ran 9 minute miles!  I placed 73 out of 792 so I was in the top 10%.  The 2.5 scones I ate the night before provided the perfect carb-laden jet fuel.

The best part was having all my boys there to congratulate me at the finish line and then whisk me away home in our warm, dry car to a long, hot shower.  After dropping me off they left again to meet up with my parents abandoning me in an empty house.  An utterly quiet empty house.  I slipped into my comfiest yoga pants and my fleeciest sweatshirt and snuggled up on the couch with my Snuggie and the other half of that scone to watch Project Runway on TiVo.  All by myself.  With no one begging for a bite of my treat, no one whining or crying or fighting in the background, no one trying to wrestle me, and no one crawling in my lap expecting a back scratching session.  Unwinding alone = stay-at-home mom heaven.

I'm already looking forward to next year.  I'll be upgrading to the half-marathon.  You heard it here first, people.


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PS  When I registered for the race I had to pick a shirt size.  I was warned they ran small and advised to order a size bigger than I normally wear.  As it turns out the shirts actually run a little big and the medium shirt I got is larger than I'd like.  While I was running hubby tried to exchange it for me, but they were out of smalls.  They did, however, have a bunch of extra-larges.  Hmm... wonder why that would be?  Anyway, the lady felt badly so she gave me a shirt from a different race to make up for it.  Karma, baby. Last year when I ran the Y Fun Run 5k there was a mix up and I never got a shirt at all.  Now I can proudly wear my Michelob Half-Marathon shirt and everyone will think I can run 13 miles drunk.  Cool.

Keep Your Fingers Crossed!

My first official 10k race is tomorrow morning.  As of yesterday "they" were predicting today will be gorgeous with record high temps, but tomorrow a 70% chance of heavy rain.  I was not a happy camper last night when I read that.  Today, however, the little weather icon has 3 less rain drops and now says there is a 60% chance of light showers. That I can handle.  Still not ideal, but maybe not utterly miserable.  I just need one rain free hour from 8:45-9:45a.m. PST so please pray to the weather gods for me!

NO!

YES!!

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I Digress

This is not at all related to training for the triathlon, just a short anecdote that will be extra appreciated by those who have experienced the socially awkward weirdness that is Facebook.  The more I think about it the more it cracks me up because it's got me reminiscing about the socially awkward weirdness that was me.

When I joined FB a year and a half or so ago one of the first friend requests I received was from someone I had a crush on in 3rd grade.  (BTW I think it's a safe bet he doesn't read this blog.)  We went all the way through school together, but I wouldn't call us friends.  Even when I was crushing on him, we didn't talk much.  He seemed like the quiet type and was sporty so we didn't hang with the same crowds.  This is probably a good time to mention back then I wore glasses resembling these:

Seriously.  The only difference is mine were purple and bifocals.  Seriously.  I had bifocals when I was eight.  Also, I was (still am) a short, freckly, redhead.  My coolest outfit was a pair of hand-me-down Jordache jeans and a blouse adorned with a unicorn head (rainbow mane, of course).  My hair was cut in a style that can only be described as Sally Jessy Raphael.  And to top it all off my friends and I were certified nerds (think Krelboynes from the tv show Malcolm in the Middle).  So, yeah, I was flattered this guy remembered me.

We both post on FB fairly regularly, but haven't had any direct communication with each other until about a week ago when we had the following exchange, initiated by him, through FB email.

------ September 10 at 8:00pm

Hey...how goes it? Things are well for me. I can remember the last time we talked but am sorry we haven't since then. I hope all is well with you and your family. Just wanted to say hi.

-

KFuji September 11 at 8:25pm

Hi,

Things are for pretty great for me too, I'm happy to report. Looks like you've got a houseful of beautiful ladies. I'm drowning in transformers and legos myself.

When was the last time we talked? I'll be honest and say the best memory I have of us is on the bus in 3rd and 4th grade since I had a big crush on you back then.

K

 ------ September 12 at 7:42am

Didn't you make an appearance at my wedding reception? I thought we had talked for a while, back then...15 years ago.

-

 KFuji September 12 at 11:22am

Nope. Interesting. I wonder who you're thinking of? I'd like to meet her.

K
________________________________________________________


End of communication.

So much for him remembering me.

I wonder who in the hell he thinks I am?



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Workout "Fashion"

Oh the things I've seen.

It's bewildering what some deem appropriate workout attire.  I can't claim to be the most stylish wannabe athlete, but my goodness....

There's a lady at the Y who regularly works out in a faded ribbed tank top (looks comfortable), cut-off sweat pants (I'm with you), and... pearls (WTF)?  I understand not wanting to leave pearls in a Y locker, but the so-not-chic rest of the outfit renders them conspicuous.  In my humble opinion, if you work out in pearls you should also model the very latest from Nordstrom's active line.  (BTW I can't believe there are woman paying upwards of $70 to sweat in their boot cut yoga pants.)

Then I am often startled by the, ahem, "more mature" gentleman confidently striding about in skin-tight cycling gear.  Gotta admit he's in fantastic shape, but must he prance all around the Y in spandex?  I swear he's around every corner.  Why is he even wearing a cycling outfit at the Y?  For spinning class?  That seems extreme.  Admittedly I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure there's no advantage to being aerodynamically streamlined on a stationary bike.  Besides the shorts leave nothing to the imagination and I have a very active imagination.

And, guys, in case there is any doubt I assure you shorts with black shoes and black socks pulled up over your calves do not look any better on a treadmill than they do at popular European tourist attractions.

But my all-time fave is the guy on the elliptical wearing a flannel shirt, jeans, and work boots.  Not work out boots, work boots.  I think he came straight from the garage.  It's even funnier he was on the elliptical and not the treadmill, right?  So wish I had a picture.



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I-ron-EE

I'm blogging instead of working out.

Come on, now.  You aren't surprised are you?   It was inevitable this would happen.  I'm only surprised it didn't happen sooner.  Procrastination and me, we're old friends you see.  We go way back.  Way, way back.  Once in high school, and hand to god this is a true story, I checked out a book on conquering procrastination and had to turn it back into the library before I'd read it.  I-ron-EE!  BTW, when I type that I'm hearing the voice of Kevin McDonald, from Kids in the Hall, in my head.  I hope you're hearing it that way too because it's freakin' hysterical.   I know Dan is.  I should dig those DVDS out... no I'm not being sarcastic... it's a speech impediment.

Yeah, totally unfocused today.

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All the Models Wanna Be Like Me

Guess what the new fashion trend this fall is?

You know what, forget it.  You'll never guess.

Gap teeth.

Yes.  It's true.  As hard as it is to believe (and I find it very hard) apparently the "it" thing this year is for models on the runway to sport gap teeth.  Ridiculous.  Firstly, this is ludicrously arbitrary even for an industry based on ludicrously arbitrary.  Secondly, have you ever seen a model's teeth on the runway?  Even if they did smile, which they don't, how could anyone possibly notice a gap a few millimeters across?  Thirdly, it's ludicrously arbitrary.  I already mentioned that?  Well, it is.

Whatever.  So over it.  I've been rocking that look since 2nd grade.  Like Snooki and her bump, I've matured past my trademark (although unlike her I do not have my own Wikipedia entry).  That's the mark of a true trendsetter; have the look before anyone thinks it's cool and just when it gets popular declare it uncool and move on.  That's right.  I'm too sexy for my cat.

Sigh.  And, yes, I am quite aware of the irony involved.  Here I am spending beaucoup bucks to get rid of the one hip thing about me.  It's all good though, baby.  Trust me, this time next year gap teeth will be out and freakishly long second toes will be in and I will, once again, be the trendiest trendsetter of them all.

Thanks for nothing, Sookie

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Promise to My Followers

As a child I loved reading the comic pages (or "the funnies" as my dad adorably calls them), especially on Sundays, of course, when they were in color and 4(!) pages long.  Kid heaven.  I would spread them out on the table, pour a big bowl of Rice Crisp cereal (generic brands reigned supreme in our pantry) put a heaping tablespoon of sugar on top (my mom did her best, but I knew all the ways to make my meals as unhealthy as the junk she refused to buy--good for you, Mom!) and delight in the antics of Ziggy and Garfield.  (On a side note, I'd like to go on the record and state I have never liked Dennis the Menace.  Poor Mr. Wilson,  Mrs. Wilson still hasn't let him strangle that punk yet.)   And although I admired the cartoonists for their (sometimes) funny funnies,  I also pitied them.  Imagine having to come up with a joke every single day.  Wow.  It wouldn't surprise me to hear their suicide rate is right up there with dentists.

And now I'm feeling some of that pressure myself.  I mean I have followers for pete's sake*  I've even noticed some names I don't recognize which is crazy cool.  Your encouraging comments both public and private feed my commitment and my heart.  Is that a corny thing to say?  I don't care!  It's true.  Something profound is happening inside me.  I can't quite put it into words at the moment, but you are playing a hand in it.

Gotta admit though, knowing people regularly read this blog is also kinda freaky.  When I wrote my first post I was thinking "well, hubby has to read it, he legally obligated himself during our wedding vows."  But I was skeptical anyone else would care.  Truth be told, I'm not sure I'm clever enough to entertain for an extended time period.  I should be.  My entire family is clever (have you read my brother's blog?), even those not related to me by blood like my sisters-in-law and my husband are witty, but I don't know... I'm on the fence about my own pithiness.   I think I might heckle myself if I were bold and impolite enough to be a heckler.  So, again, thanks for supporting me, friends.  One of the reasons I want to complete a triathlon is to push myself physically, see what I'm made of.  Now I see pushing myself emotionally and creatively is equally important.  Posting regularly as I have been is outside my comfort zone, but I'll definitely post at least once a week until the actual triathlon.

To infinity and beyond!

Sorry, it's just the coolest catch phrase ever.   

*Should "pete" be capitalized?  Is he a real guy?  Am I taking his name in vain?  Sorry, Pete!



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I ♥ Dolly Parton

If you don't like the road you're walking, start paving another one.

-Dolly Parton

Yes, this is completely random.  Except not really.  Admittedly, country isn't one of my favorite genres of music, but I am a huge Dolly Parton fan.  Her music is amazing, of course, but I'm more about the songstress herself.  This entry belongs in this blog because seeing her special on the Biography channel  inspired me to be a better person.

What's so wonderful about Dolly?  Well everything really, but I'll share a few highlights:

• Dolly is one of the few recording artists savvy enough to keep all her own publishing rights.  At one point in his career Elvis wanted to cover her song,  I Will Always Love You.  She was thrilled and honored, but unfortunately, Elvis' manager demanded half of the publishing rights.  Dolly informed him that was not possible and the deal fell through.  Although it broke her heart, she was unwilling to compromise her rights as a songwriter.  Talk about balls!  The woman said no to Elvis.  However, unless you live in a cave, you know how the story ends.  Years later that same song was covered by Whitney Houston for her movie The Bodyguard and became a pop cultural phenomenon.  Had Dolly given half the publishing rights to Elvis she would have lost out on millions of dollars. 

• Before she became a megastar, she was a sidekick on a popular variety show.  When she decided to pursue her Hollywood dreams many told her she would never make it and was crazy to leave such a successful gig.  In fact, the star of the show himself told her that and let it be known his feelings were hurt.  However, she felt strongly she must follow her own heart.  When speaking about this career crossroads she said, "I like to think I haven't stepped on anyone to get where I am.  I've stepped over a few people and I've stepped around a few people."  Later on, when the star of the show had financial difficulties and Dolly was enjoying huge career success, she bought the publishing rights to his songs from him.  When he was back on his feet she gave those rights back to him free of charge.  

• Her public image is larger than life, but her private life is private.  She has been married to the same man for 44 years and it's her only marriage.  He is content to stay out of the public eye and she is content to let him.  She often jokes they spend most of their time together, it's just that no one ever sees him.  No one knows much about their family life either except they have no biological children, but helped raise some of her younger siblings and became guardians of a family friend's son when he lost both his parents.
• I used to think Dollywood was just a glitzy, campy, cheesy theme-park, but it is actually a sort of museum.  It features authentic regional cooking, home-grown bluegrass musicians, and preserves historical information about the Ozarks while also employing hundreds of locals with otherwise limited career opportunities . When she opened Dollywood, she created a viable revenue stream for an impoverished area.  This was intentional.
• She has never forgotten her humble upbringing or turned her back on where she came from.  She gives back in many ways including starting a charity that delivers free books to young children in low-income areas with high rates of illiteracy.

My favorite Dollyisms:

• "It takes a lot of money to look this cheap."
• Quizzed by the media about her weight loss secret she said, "It ain't no secret, I just eat less."
• "The way I see it is, if you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain."
• "I'm 5 foot nothing and a hundred and plenty."
• "I'm not offended by all the dumb blonde jokes because I know I'm not dumb... and I also know that I'm not blonde."
• When asked on the set of Steel Magnolias why she didn't seem as bothered as her co-stars by the hot weather she replied, "All my life I wanted to be rich and famous.  Now I am.  I've got nothing to complain about."

So tell me, how can you not ♥ this woman?


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Is It Just Me or Do Abs Never Get Any Easier?

As I progress I can do more with better form, but sheesh... they still burn as much as they did on day 1.  They are the only exercises that never seem to hurt less the more I do them.  I can now go for a longer period before the burning gets to the point where I want to kill somebody, but it always shows up.  Maybe that is why hell is described as being hot?   Satan is an enthusiastic personal trainer who forces you to do crunches while shouting at you for eternity, "come on, give me just one more!"   Shudder.  Now that would be hell.

Image from www.fullyillustrated.com

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Go Figure

If you read my post titled My First Sports Injury! then you know I've been on watch to see if the second toenail on my right foot is going to fall off.  (So far so good BTW; hanging in there).  Tonight, right in the middle of preschool orientation while I was waiting my turn to talk (I'm on the board), I noticed the third toenail on that same foot looked odd.  I bent down to touch it and the top layer of the nail with the red polish on it fell off on the floor.  Yeah... it was icky.  I didn't think anyone noticed (I was sitting in the front of the room facing the crowd) so I put my foot over the broken nail and nonchalantly slid it under my chair.  What else could I do?

At least there is still a thin layer of nail there, but... yuck.  I suppose I'm a real runner now.  I will spare you a picture.



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Break Fast*

The fasting was a success.  I made it through and awoke this morning 4lbs lighter and feeling good. Hungry, but good.  I ate a chicken breakfast sausage, scrambled egg with a spoonful of homemade salsa, and a small apple as my first post-fast meal.  Delicious.  My stomach is grumbling a bit, but I'm hoping as the weeks go on and I continue to avoid gluten and sugar, things will calm down.

Today fall is in the air and the clock relentlessly ticks down the days to long-pants weather.  I'm guessing I still need to trim at least 10lbs to fit comfortably into what is already in my closet.  Although my GYN did confirm for me at my annual appointment it's likely I put on at least some muscle weight.  She thinks I appear healthier than this time last year and am "wearing the extra pounds well."  That's nice to hear, especially from a health professional.  Helps keep me focused on health over vanity.  So essential to do that, ladies.

Today I move on to phase 3 of  ChaLEAN Extreme.  I'm curious to see if it's even heavier weights or lighter weights and more reps or what?  I'll find out in about 45 minutes.  I'm letting my breakfast settle first.

Mmmm... breakfast

*Did you know that's where the word breakfast comes from?  You are breaking your fast from the night before hence "break fast."  Now where they got lunch and dinner from I have no idea.



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Why Does Fasting Go So Slowly?

Seriously, it should be called "lasting" because it makes your day last forever.

  

I'm just over halfway through the second day of my 2 day fast.  This is physically the most uncomfortable stretch, but psychologically the easiest because I can look forward to breakfast tomorrow. It's sobering to know some people live every day feeling hungry.  I acknowledge how blessed I am to be making a conscious choice to fast.  Not everyone is so lucky to have access to a stocked pantry and fridge a few feet away at all times.  At least I know tomorrow I eat.   Humbling.

A friend asked if I was fasting for religious reasons.  At first I said no, but upon contemplation I appreciate it as a spiritual experience.  It is cleansing, not only bodily, but also mentally.  It resets my metabolism and my thinking.  It wipes the slate clean and prompts introspection.  There's something to be said for occasional suffering.  I think it's true you learn what you're made of and what's important when you risk, endure, and prevail.

Tonight I dream of cereal.

k   

So You Think You Can Swim

Do not try and learn to swim by reading about it in a book.

You will drown.

I can't make up my mind what's more confusing, the diagrams or the descriptions.  Fortunately, I already know how to swim so I recognize how ludicrous it is to think you can read a chapter on freestyle and then go dive in the water and do it.  Can you pick up a few tips on fine-tuning your stroke?  Yes.  Will you learn enough to keep you from dying a slow, horrible death?  No.

The swimming leg of the triathlon is the one I'm most nervous about.  As I mentioned, I can swim, quite well in fact, but I've never swam competitively.  Growing up, my mom often encouraged me to do so since I would play in the water far longer than my best friend (poor skinny thing had no body fat like me to keep him warm) and I loved every second of it.  Here's the thing though, my little secret;  I'm fairly terrified of water.

Swimming in a lake or pond is scary, of course, because of the murky water and the weeds brushing your kicking feet.  Just thinking about it gives me the willies.  Remember the underwater task from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire?  I imagined grindylows decades before JK Rowling's chilling descriptions.

As for the ocean,  when I was about 12 my family was vacationing at the beach house of family friends.  One morning I was out joyfully jumping waves (all by myself since I was the oldest child and, once again, the best insulated against the screaming cold of the Pacific Northwest coast) when, out of nowhere, a distorted, black face appeared in the middle of a breaking wave thirty feet in front of me.  I was petrified, confronted by a real-life sea monster.  I couldn't breathe.  Probably only about 20 seconds passed before I figured out it was a seal, but those 20 seconds have haunted me ever since.

It doesn't help that I'm obsessed with shark attacks.  And crocodile attacks.  And alligator attacks.  Can you picture becoming a meal for one of those creatures?  I can.  In technicolor, with slow motion, and multiple camera angles.  (Damn you, Discovery channel.)  Horrifying.

You might assume I feel safe in a pool, but I don't.  You see, there are these drains....  Yes, it's true, the drains are, at most, a foot square, but their small size offers no comfort as I swim over them, my active imagination conjuring up all sorts of leviathans wriggling up through the drain holes.  Yes, I realize this is ridiculous, but there you have it.  It doesn't help that exerting myself in water causes panicky feelings as I struggle to take each gasping breath.  Amazingly, despite all this I do enjoy swimming in a pool.  It's fun.  And I'm rational enough to know if some nightmarish sea monstrosity did emerge from the depths of the pool drain, the chlorinated water would probably kill it before it had a chance to devour me.

Probably.


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Big Fat Spice

Yeah, they can barely sing and their lyrics are nonsense, but god help me, I love the Spice Girls.

You got a problem with that?

Girl Power*

You're welcome.

Oh, come on now.  You know as soon as I mentioned them you wanted to see a picture.

Seriously, I dare you to listen to Spice Up Your Life and not move.  Impossible.  If you claim you can do it well then, you, my friend, are a big fat liar.  Which reminds me of the point of this post...

I don't want to work out today.

I want to sit in my recliner, watch Project Runway (isn't this season fabulous?) and eat Chubby Hubby out of the container until my fingers go numb with cold and my spoon scrapes the bottom.

Nothing seems worth it today.  Not good health, not accomplishing a goal, not even rocking skinny jeans.  Nothing.

I don't remember what publication it was, but back in college I read an interview with the Spice Girls.  The only thing I recall about it was something that made me laugh out loud.  Melanie "Sporty Spice" Chisholm was lamenting her nickname.  She said (and I paraphrase) it's a lot of pressure to be "sporty" all the time and some mornings when her treadmill awaits her at 6:00a.m. she wishes she could just be Big Fat Spice.

HA!

Amen to that, sister!

Don't we all, Sporty?  Don't we all.

*Incidentally, while watching a few Spice Girl videos on youtube (all in the name of research, of course) it struck me how ironic it is that Victoria Beckham (nee Posh Spice) ended up being the most famous of the five since she didn't do anything except prance around in tiny dresses.  The other girls at least warbled verses here and there and busted a few real dance moves.  And now she's even more famous for... prancing around in tiny dresses.   I tell you what, that woman has got it figured out.  Forget the Dalai Lama.  I'm getting my life advice from Posh.

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My First Sports Injury!

Yesterday I had to visit Urgent Care and get a blood blister under my right second toenail lanced.  I'm in danger of losing the toenail.

Don't worry, it's not life threatening.  Just gross.  Turns out, probably because I do a lot of downhill running (can't be avoided where I live), my second toes are rubbing up against my shoes.  Doc said it's a common thing among runners, but it's usually the big toe that's affected.  In my case, my second toes are freakishly longer than my big toes so they are taking the beating (thanks for the mutant genes, Mom).   Doc advised filing down the toenails and taping them before running to keep them from sticking up as much.  He also advised trying shoes that are longer.  I've been thinking about getting new shoes anyway.  Maybe monkey feet.  More on that later.

Unexpectedly, I kind of enjoyed my doctor's visit.  He was chatty and asked if I am a "serious runner."  I hesitated a moment, but then confidently answered, "yes I am.  I'm training for a triathlon."  He seemed impressed, although a little less so when he realized I'm not an Ironman.  (Are you familiar with the Ironman Triathlon?  It's for crazy people.  The race is a 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike ride, and a full 26 mile marathon all completed back to back with no break.  I told you, cray-zee.  The event I plan on doing is a .47 mile swim, 12 mile bike ride, and 3.1 mile run.  Sane.)  Turns out he and his kids run too so he was telling me about some fun events in our state.  I felt a full-fledged member of the Runner's Brotherhood or, er, Sisterhood.  Personhood?  Anyway, I'm proud to feel like an athlete.

So I have to wear a bandaid for a few days.  I'm trying to be brave.  If I do lose the toenail it's supposed to come back.  In 4-6 months.  Thank goodness boot weather is almost here.

k

And Now a Word on Chafing

Blows.



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A Few Thoughts on Being a Stay-at-Home Mom

I complain about my kids a lot and perhaps some are getting a false impression of how I feel about being a stay-at-home mom.   So, for the record, let me be very clear;  I absolutely love being a stay-at-home mom.  I can't imagine anything different.  I am doing the most important thing I will ever do with my life and I am acutely aware of that.  It's a relatively short span of time children are so dependent.  I grouse about it because raising children is absurdly complicated.

I'm going to be so bold as to suggest I am speaking for most stay-at-home parents when I say I do not feel I'm wasting my talents or biding time until I can do something truly worthwhile; after all what responsibility is more monumental than raising our future citizens?  Stay-at-home parents deserve as much respect for our work as anyone else, probably more.  Our issues are valid and we have earned the right to complain about them.  It doesn't mean we don't love our kids, regret putting careers on hold, are not capable, or are looking for a way out.  We're just exercising the inherent human right to bitch about our jobs.

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Lady Gaga Loves EVERYONE!

"And now, I'm just trying to change the world, one sequin at a time."
— Lady Gaga

I recently attended Lady Gaga's Monster Ball.  That woman can sing.  It was a complete spectacle, of course, not just her, but the crowd.  No one can out gaga Lady Gaga although many tried.  I think my favorite was the gentleman with gold, old-school telephone handset epaulets.  Clever.  I didn't dress too outrageously (I'm not brave enough to wear booty shorts in public), but did give myself a fauxhawk with moderate success.  I don't know if you are familiar with this particular hairdo, but it's a relatively simple style accomplished by ratting the hair and then cementing it in place with shitloads of hairspray.  I went to bed with it looking like this:

And woke up with it looking like this:

That's a lot of hairspray.

But I digress.

The reason I'm prompted to post about the Monster Ball is because it was a surprisingly uplifting experience.  I expected the party-carnival atmosphere and dance music, but I did not realize how life-affirming the lady herself would be.  She truly adores her fans and is not only an advocate for gays, lesbians, bisexuals, and transgendered persons, but also for artistic types and free-spirits who don't comfortably fit into any culturally accepted category.  She mentioned she was unpopular and picked on every day in high school (I'd love to be a fly on the wall at her 10 year reunion), but rather than succumbing to pettiness, she forged ahead manifesting her dreams.  She encouraged the audience several times during the show to love ourselves exactly how we were born and not give into the pressures of other people's expectations.  I couldn't help but be inspired and now my own "tight pants problem" seems trite and unworthy of attention.  

So I'm back, people!  From now on no more energy wasted worrying about what "could be" and only attention and focus paid to what is and will be.

                      

"I used to walk down the street like I was a fucking star... I want people to walk around delusional about how great they can be - and then to fight so hard for it every day that the lie becomes the truth."
— Lady Gaga  

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Depressed

I tried on the pants today.

I know, I know.

Stupidest idea ever.

I feel dreadful.  Fall is creeping up on us and when it arrives my wardrobe will consist of only tops.  Adorable tops, true, but I'm crushed when I think of all those bottoms I can't get my bottom in.  Thank heaven leggings are fashionable at the moment because unless I lose at least 10lbs those and yoga pants are all I'll be wearing when the cold weather descends.

I should say I knew last year when I bought new clothes it was likely I would gain some weight in the upcoming months.  Because of health issues I had to do this ridiculously strict elimination diet to rule out food intolerances.  I've never been one to easily lose weight, but the pounds melted off shockingly fast.  I actually got to the point where I thought I was too skinny and I never, ever thought I would think that.  So I wasn't opposed to fattening up a little when I began eating regularly again, but something somewhere in the past few months went horribly wrong because I'm heavier now then I have been in about 7 years (not counting pregnancies).
  
It's beyond frustrating because I'm in the best shape of my life for cripes sake!  And my eating habits are not bad for how active I am.  They are certainly better than they were 18 months ago.  Something's out of whack.  I am taking some medication at night to help me sleep and one of the possible side effects is unexplained weight gain.  That could be it, I guess, but I hope not.  Choosing between fat and sleep?  Yeah, no contest.  I'd rather be a fat, well-rested, normal person than a thin, crazed zombie.  Been there, done that.  I could just buy new pants, of course, I'm honestly not that unhappy with the way I look, but I'm not comfortable.  These extra pounds just don't feel right.  It feels like PMS weight.  TMI, I'm sure, but the ladies will know why that's significant.

I think I need to do another elimination diet.  Drat.  So not excited about that.  But I've suspected for a while there's something I'm eating that's causing me to bloat.  It's probably gluten.  I'm kinda hoping it's gluten because eliminating that is comparatively easy to avoiding dairy or eggs (2 other things I'm supposedly sensitive to).

So now I know what to do, the question is when?  It's best to start with a 24-48 hour detox fast.  That means I need a couple of days where I don't have much scheduled.  I don't see that happening any time soon.  Then I'll need to eat super strict for at least 2 weeks.  That is a complete PITA because I have to bring my own food most places I go.  Not to mention I have to write down every little thing I eat and monitor my symptoms.  After that, assuming I'm feeling better, I can start gradually working things in and, hopefully, figure out my trigger food(s).  Double drat.  SO NOT FUN!

Looking at my calendar, I'm going to block out the first weekend in September for the fast (yes, I know it's Labor Day, but it means hubby will be home) and then I'll be a GF carnivegan (gluten-free, meat-eating vegan).  I've done it before, for a much longer period of time.  I can do it again.  I've got some great recipes and I'll most likely quickly drop weight, but that's not why I'm doing it.  My system feels unbalanced and I need to figure out why.  It's more than vanity, it's health.  But it still blows.

P.S.  Did I mention sugar is a big no-no?  Well it is.  (super sad face emoticon here)

P.P.S.   Love you, J.M.  We'll always be BFFs, no matter the circumstances.  Big hugs.


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My Infinite Playlist

The other day while stretching at the Y I overheard a man's iPod (or whatever his music playing device of choice is.)  He had on these huge, awkward headphones and they were blaring.  Or maybe they weren't blaring.  Maybe they are just cheap and inefficient at containing sound.  Anyway, I could hear his music quite well.  It was Golden Oldies.  I mean real oldies from the 50s like Runaround Sue and The Wanderer.   I'm a big fan of the early days of rock 'n roll, but I'm not sure how I feel about it as workout music if you are under the age of 60.  Even then... eh... maybe not so much.  Anyway, this guy looked younger than that.   He was doing aggressive (and inefficient) looking crunches and he seemed really into it, like Rocky into it.  The music just didn't match.  That dude needs to download some Survivor.  Or Kenny Loggins.

It got me thinking how incredibly personal musical taste is.  As for me, when it comes to working out I want dance music.  Not so much techno or house because I like to sing along (I belt out Womanizer like nobody's business; get me drunk and I'll show you), but songs with a fast thumping bass line.  I once heard Penn, of Penn and Teller, sharing how skeeved he felt when he borrowed a friend's iPod.  If I'm remembering correctly, he said it was like going through his buddy's underwear drawer.  So I'll show you mine if you show me yours.   

My favorite, comfortable bikini briefs:

• Madonna
• Michael Jackson
• Stevie Wonder
• Aretha Franklin

My sexy, special occasion thongs:

• Gwen Stefani
• Pink
• Lady Gaga
• Robyn
• Destiny's Child (and, of course, Beyonce's instant classic Single Ladies)

My embarrassing, for-hubby's-eyes-only lingerie:

• Disco (a LOT of disco)
• Britney Spears
• Spice Girls 
• Ke$ha (did you see her SNL appearance?  WTF was that all about?)

Tell me what I'm missing, folks.  I want to hear your "must download immediately" suggestions.  Now that I'm regularly exercising for over an hour at a time I need some new blood on my workout playlist.  Thanks!

k

  

Project Beautification

I'm not only improving my body by working out.

I went to my dentist today for Invisalign aligners--those invisible plastic trays that are an alternative to braces.  I've got a fairly sizable gap between my two front teeth (see below), but not for long!  Supposedly, 5 months from now said gap will be gone and I'll have movie-star perfect teeth.

BEFORE

They even showed me a 3D rendering of my gap closing:

The pink blobs represent attachments used to hold the trays in place.  In real life they are tooth colored.  And they feel hella weird.  Eating dinner tonight was an undertaking.  I'm sure I'll get used to them eventually, but in the meantime they're quite distracting--like teeth sprouting out of my teeth.  The inside of my lips are chewed up.

Because they scrubbed off some of my tooth enamel to make a textured surface for the attachments to adhere better, they gave me a special fluoride toothpaste to use for a week.  It's made by Oral-B, but apparently this stuff is to be taken seriously.  The directions... excuse me, "usage instructions," read:

After brushing with dentifrice, apply a thin ribbon of the formulation to teeth for at least 1 minute using a toothbrush.  Expectorate and do not eat, drink or rinse for at least 30 minutes.

And, no, I did not dig out my thesaurus.  That's a direct quote.  I don't even know what dentifrice is. I'm guessing from context it's toothpaste.  At first I thought it meant toothbrush, but then toothbrush appears later in the directions so that doesn't make sense.  I could look it up, but... eh.  I'll just use toothpaste and hope for the best.

I also have a cute little lisp.  The brochure assures me this will most likely disappear after a few days.  Of course, tonight my baby asked for The Snow Ball as his bed time story.  It has lines like:

Swooping down a snow slide--go, bears, go! 

                            and

Look out for flying snowballs!  Splat-splat-splat! 

That was a fun read for both of us.

One last perk of Invisalign is, since I can't consume anything other than water while wearing them and taking them in and out is a hassle, I'm venturing I'll eat less.  I certainly won't be doing any mindless grazing.  What perfect timing.  Skinny jeans here I come!

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