Yesterday while training for my Sunday mountain bike race, things became really hard. I was face to face with the fact that mountain biking (and racing) is hard...like really fucking hard. And it gets a bit discouraging to think that I am working so hard to get 'not last place'. It's a lot easier to do something when you know you're going to win, be close to winning, or be in the middle of the pack (so no one knows how bad you are).
When I first decided to mountain bike race it was March/April and I weighed 220+ pounds. I wanted to lose weight and I thought racing would be a great motivator to get me out there exercising. I definitely have that little (some times big) part inside of me that likes to compete, so it should have been a great match. But...
I haven't really been in competition and I am just under 200 pounds. It's not exactly what I expected. In fact, my expectations were more like vying for second/third in my age group and by this time weighing close to 170 pounds.
I don't feel like I can continue where I'm at, which is exercising like an athlete, but eating and drinking like a rock star. I don't want to quit exercising and racing (or my goal of weight loss - which would make competing easier). But the call of glasses upon glasses of wine and rich food is sometimes just too good to resist...
Showing posts with label weight loss. Show all posts
Showing posts with label weight loss. Show all posts
Really?!?!
Our first mountain bike race is this Saturday (AGH!) and we have a few things to do before the race. One of the things I want to try is being 'clipped' into my bike. It's kinda scary and exciting at the same time. My bike and I will be *one*...unless I get into trouble and I un-clip myself or...while I'm in trouble, I momentarily forget how to un-clip and continue being *one* with my bike all the way down the side of the hill...
Anyway, we went to a local bike shop (Erik's Bike Shop) yesterday to get a few last minute things I decided I needed before the race. Our first stop was the Erik's Bike Shop in Burnsville. Our whole family walked through the doors and headed straight for the shoe section. A nice young gal came up to us and asked us if we needed help. I said, "Yes, I'm going to buy some shoes." Nathan had already picked out a pair of shoes for me to try on. She grabbed the size we requested and we talked about shoes. Nathan mentioned the words "mountain shoes" several times during the conversation. I finally found a pair I liked and she says, "Are these for spin class? Do you need cleats?"
NO, I DO NOT NEED THEM FOR SPIN CLASS! I MOUNTAIN BIKE! HENCE THE WORDS "MOUNTAIN SHOES" SEVERAL TIMES IN OUR CONVERSATION! (I did not actually yell this out loud, but it's what I felt like inside.)
Our next destination was the Erik's bike shop in Bloomington. Here, Nathan and I were perusing the glove section of the store. As we're looking through the women's gloves another nice young lady comes up to us to see if we needed any help. I continue to look through the gloves and Nathan asks her if they have any gloves with the loop on them to help you get them off your hands? She finds a pair with webbing that does the same kind of thing and then says to us, "But these are woman's gloves."
NO KIDDING! I AM A WOMAN AND I AM LOOKING AT GLOVES AND I FREAKING MOUNTAIN BIKE...BIATCH! (Ok, I didn't say this either, but it's what I felt like inside.)
Maybe because Nathan was doing most of the talking these women thought the mountain shoes and the gloves were for him? Maybe because I showed up in the store wearing a skirt and ballet slippers (and the fact that I am still flirting with the 200 pound mark) makes these women think I couldn't possibly be out on the mountain bike course...well I am. And this Saturday I will be out there with my new shoes, my new gloves, and my mother freaking tutu.
Anyway, we went to a local bike shop (Erik's Bike Shop) yesterday to get a few last minute things I decided I needed before the race. Our first stop was the Erik's Bike Shop in Burnsville. Our whole family walked through the doors and headed straight for the shoe section. A nice young gal came up to us and asked us if we needed help. I said, "Yes, I'm going to buy some shoes." Nathan had already picked out a pair of shoes for me to try on. She grabbed the size we requested and we talked about shoes. Nathan mentioned the words "mountain shoes" several times during the conversation. I finally found a pair I liked and she says, "Are these for spin class? Do you need cleats?"
NO, I DO NOT NEED THEM FOR SPIN CLASS! I MOUNTAIN BIKE! HENCE THE WORDS "MOUNTAIN SHOES" SEVERAL TIMES IN OUR CONVERSATION! (I did not actually yell this out loud, but it's what I felt like inside.)
Our next destination was the Erik's bike shop in Bloomington. Here, Nathan and I were perusing the glove section of the store. As we're looking through the women's gloves another nice young lady comes up to us to see if we needed any help. I continue to look through the gloves and Nathan asks her if they have any gloves with the loop on them to help you get them off your hands? She finds a pair with webbing that does the same kind of thing and then says to us, "But these are woman's gloves."
NO KIDDING! I AM A WOMAN AND I AM LOOKING AT GLOVES AND I FREAKING MOUNTAIN BIKE...BIATCH! (Ok, I didn't say this either, but it's what I felt like inside.)
Maybe because Nathan was doing most of the talking these women thought the mountain shoes and the gloves were for him? Maybe because I showed up in the store wearing a skirt and ballet slippers (and the fact that I am still flirting with the 200 pound mark) makes these women think I couldn't possibly be out on the mountain bike course...well I am. And this Saturday I will be out there with my new shoes, my new gloves, and my mother freaking tutu.
Dietary Issues?
I have some friends who are very 'in-tune' with how their bodies respond to what they eat and drink. They prefer organic veggies, and meat without nitrates. They can have lengthy conversations on the glysmic index, candida, and gluten. They buy coconut oil in bulk, and tote their drinking water around in mason jars. In all honesty...it kind of annoys me. I mean come on, I grew up on bologna and American cheese sandwiches on white bread, McDonalds, and Taco Bell. I am just fine.
Or am I? I've been eating what I would consider a more 'clean' diet over the last few months. I buy very little junk food and consume mostly lean proteins, fresh veggies, and super smoothies (which do include some of that bulk coconut oil). I've been losing weight, getting faster and stronger, and I have more energy.
A friend of mine was in town over the weekend. We got together at my sister's house on Saturday night. It was a long day and I didn't eat much. We stopped at Super Target to grab some food to bring. What did I pick out? Party food, of course! We bought two types of chicken wings: Asian inspired, breaded, boneless wings and some sweet and spicy habanero wings. The habanero wings turned out too spicy for my liking, so I stuck with the boneless Asian wings. They tasted pretty good and I ate way too many of them. I ended up with a slight stomach ache, feeling bloated, and just plain 'blah'. When I got home for the evening I hopped on the the scale (because I'm a scale hopper) and I had gained four and a half pounds that evening...what the fuck? FOUR AND A HALF POUNDS IN ONE EVENING?!?!
I guess I am sensitive to the food I eat and you'll be seeing me and my mason jar of water hanging out all summer long together :)
Or am I? I've been eating what I would consider a more 'clean' diet over the last few months. I buy very little junk food and consume mostly lean proteins, fresh veggies, and super smoothies (which do include some of that bulk coconut oil). I've been losing weight, getting faster and stronger, and I have more energy.
A friend of mine was in town over the weekend. We got together at my sister's house on Saturday night. It was a long day and I didn't eat much. We stopped at Super Target to grab some food to bring. What did I pick out? Party food, of course! We bought two types of chicken wings: Asian inspired, breaded, boneless wings and some sweet and spicy habanero wings. The habanero wings turned out too spicy for my liking, so I stuck with the boneless Asian wings. They tasted pretty good and I ate way too many of them. I ended up with a slight stomach ache, feeling bloated, and just plain 'blah'. When I got home for the evening I hopped on the the scale (because I'm a scale hopper) and I had gained four and a half pounds that evening...what the fuck? FOUR AND A HALF POUNDS IN ONE EVENING?!?!
I guess I am sensitive to the food I eat and you'll be seeing me and my mason jar of water hanging out all summer long together :)
New Trail
We rode a new (well, new 'this year') mountain bike trail today. Yes, it's a trail I have ridden before. And yes, I have pretty much been kicking ass so far with my bike. So it was only logical to think that I could ride the 'hard trail' at this park. I mean, come on! When you add the easy, medium, and hard trails together it only adds up to just over ten miles. I can do that.
I had it in my head that I was going to kick ass on my time and I started out great. The easy part of the trail was exactly what it said it was...easy. I got to the medium part and I walked my bike over the first obstacle. No biggie. They put these crazy first obstacles out there to scare the pants off you. I was not scared. I took the first turn of the course just fine and then there was the second turn. Fail. I quazi wiped out and as I did, I felt a stabbing pain in my left quad. Crap. Okay, no biggie. I can ride through a bit of pain (actually I could ride through a lot of pain). I continue the ride, cussing up each hill, and decide to hang out by the hard trail interchange until Nathan and The Brainiac comes along. I'm injured and it's okay if I just finish the medium trail with the kid.
I got to the hard/medium interchange and decided I would stretch. After stretching I felt much better. I can do this! I hopped back on my bike and took off down the hard trail. OMG! The hard trail was fucking hard. The hills were unreal and the obstacles were intense. My thigh was burning up each hill, but I'm stubborn. I figured I could make this. I cried a lot during this ride. Some for my thigh, some for my friends (which is not a future post, but still it's something to cry about), some for me. This whole ride was a mess.
I'd love to end this story something like: "and with thigh pain, sweat, and tears I rode on and finished the trail!" But that's not how this story ends. At just over the six mile mark I wiped out again and pulled the quad really bad. A road was visible from the trail several yards back. I limped my way back to that part of the trail. I got my bike, and my ass through the fence and rode the gravel road back to the trail head. I gave it every thing I had...it just wasn't enough. I may be pretty freaking good, but I'm not quite the shiznit yet...
(I took this picture after I pulled myself together from one of my crying fits. I think it's pretty.)
I had it in my head that I was going to kick ass on my time and I started out great. The easy part of the trail was exactly what it said it was...easy. I got to the medium part and I walked my bike over the first obstacle. No biggie. They put these crazy first obstacles out there to scare the pants off you. I was not scared. I took the first turn of the course just fine and then there was the second turn. Fail. I quazi wiped out and as I did, I felt a stabbing pain in my left quad. Crap. Okay, no biggie. I can ride through a bit of pain (actually I could ride through a lot of pain). I continue the ride, cussing up each hill, and decide to hang out by the hard trail interchange until Nathan and The Brainiac comes along. I'm injured and it's okay if I just finish the medium trail with the kid.
I got to the hard/medium interchange and decided I would stretch. After stretching I felt much better. I can do this! I hopped back on my bike and took off down the hard trail. OMG! The hard trail was fucking hard. The hills were unreal and the obstacles were intense. My thigh was burning up each hill, but I'm stubborn. I figured I could make this. I cried a lot during this ride. Some for my thigh, some for my friends (which is not a future post, but still it's something to cry about), some for me. This whole ride was a mess.
I'd love to end this story something like: "and with thigh pain, sweat, and tears I rode on and finished the trail!" But that's not how this story ends. At just over the six mile mark I wiped out again and pulled the quad really bad. A road was visible from the trail several yards back. I limped my way back to that part of the trail. I got my bike, and my ass through the fence and rode the gravel road back to the trail head. I gave it every thing I had...it just wasn't enough. I may be pretty freaking good, but I'm not quite the shiznit yet...
(I took this picture after I pulled myself together from one of my crying fits. I think it's pretty.)
Tough Competitor
I'll admit it, I like to compete. I've never been the kind of athlete or student to be 'first', so I've always competed, mostly, with myself - or for the coveted 'not-last-place' spot.
I'm going to try my luck at mountain bike racing this summer. I started out saying things like:
"I hope I can do this."
"This will be fun."
"I'm just doing this to keep me motivated to lose weight."
"My goal is to finish the race."
I have now resorted to, "What were the times of the girls who raced in my class (at this course) last year?!?!?" Yep, I did the math. I made an excel sheet. I'm tracking it and I am training for first place.
I'm going to try my luck at mountain bike racing this summer. I started out saying things like:
"I hope I can do this."
"This will be fun."
"I'm just doing this to keep me motivated to lose weight."
"My goal is to finish the race."
I have now resorted to, "What were the times of the girls who raced in my class (at this course) last year?!?!?" Yep, I did the math. I made an excel sheet. I'm tracking it and I am training for first place.
A Little Less OCD
I've been doing this 'training' thing for a few reasons. First, I'm going to try mountain bike racing this year - scary, yet freaking fun! Second, I'm also going to run on a relay team, which will run almost 200 miles in the course of a day and a half. Again - scary, yet freaking fun! Third, I'm in the process of losing some extra, unwanted pounds.
During the first few weeks of my training I went total OCD on the weight loss part. I wore my BodyBugg all the time. I tracked every-single-thing I ate. I was obsessed with the 'numbers' aspect of it and made a spreadsheet. I entered in my calories burned and my calories consumed every day. I posted on Facebook my calorie burn, every day. And then...I got bored with it all.
I took off the BodyBugg and didn't track my food at all last week. I still tracked my walking/running mileage and my biking. But I really let go of the micro-management of the weight loss part of the journey. My official weight-in day is today, Monday. I lost three and a half pounds last week, which is more then I have lost in one week so far! Yay for stopping the OCD and yay for the weight loss!
During the first few weeks of my training I went total OCD on the weight loss part. I wore my BodyBugg all the time. I tracked every-single-thing I ate. I was obsessed with the 'numbers' aspect of it and made a spreadsheet. I entered in my calories burned and my calories consumed every day. I posted on Facebook my calorie burn, every day. And then...I got bored with it all.
I took off the BodyBugg and didn't track my food at all last week. I still tracked my walking/running mileage and my biking. But I really let go of the micro-management of the weight loss part of the journey. My official weight-in day is today, Monday. I lost three and a half pounds last week, which is more then I have lost in one week so far! Yay for stopping the OCD and yay for the weight loss!
Bionical Me
I started my *official* Ragnar training this week. The training schedule lists that I would run for 15 minutes at a time, three times a week. My first run went just fine. It was slow and I was unhappy about that, but I did it. My second run of the week was yesterday morning. It started out great. I did a warm-up walk for five minutes and then the plan was to pick up the pace for the next fifteen.
I felt good for about the first five minutes and then the whole "Why am I doing this? This is hard!" kind of stuff started running laps in my brain. I looked at my Garmin to check the time...I had run for about eight minutes. Awesome! I am half way done! I struggled up a long, but honestly not-big-at-all hill. I checked the time again. It read about a minute after I checked the last time. Weird. This really sucks. I vowed to not check it again until I got to the corner. I dragged my arse to the corner and looked again. I don't even know what the fuck it said. All I know is that I wasn't even close to my fifteen minutes...what the fuck. I quit running. I started to walk. I was pissed. How could it take me *that* long to run all the way here?!?!
On further examination of my Garmin, it would seem as though my bionic left boob hit one of the display buttons AND the start/stop button while I was running...hmph.
I felt good for about the first five minutes and then the whole "Why am I doing this? This is hard!" kind of stuff started running laps in my brain. I looked at my Garmin to check the time...I had run for about eight minutes. Awesome! I am half way done! I struggled up a long, but honestly not-big-at-all hill. I checked the time again. It read about a minute after I checked the last time. Weird. This really sucks. I vowed to not check it again until I got to the corner. I dragged my arse to the corner and looked again. I don't even know what the fuck it said. All I know is that I wasn't even close to my fifteen minutes...what the fuck. I quit running. I started to walk. I was pissed. How could it take me *that* long to run all the way here?!?!
On further examination of my Garmin, it would seem as though my bionic left boob hit one of the display buttons AND the start/stop button while I was running...hmph.
Mother Freakin' Pissed
Official training for the Ragnar Relay begins next week. The Ragnar website gives a pretty good training schedule for 'one' to follow. Here's the deal though. I need to be running for 15 minutes at a time, three times a week. Now, I have been doing a lot of exercising, but I haven't been really doing much running. I'm afraid to. I weigh so much right now. I don't want to pull something in my knee, or twist my ankle, or strain something in my gut. I want to lose weight. I want to be fit and active.
I made a deal with myself that I would run (okay, it's really only a jog) in five minute intervals. I would do it three times during my walk. I would still be running the fifteen minutes, just not all at once yet. As I started out my first five minute interval I got pissed.
I'm pissed off that I'm not running the half marathon in the Get In Gear this year (I don't even know if I will be ready to run *anything* for that race.) I'm pissed that I gained forty fucking pounds! I'M MAD THAT I WAS SO MEAN AND BAD TO MY BODY! CAN YOU HEAR ME?!?! I'M PISSED OFF! I HATE NOT FEELING STRONG WHEN I RUN! I HATE LOOKING AT THE WATCH, HOPING MY FIVE MINUTES ARE UP SOON! I DON'T LIKE TRYING TO FIT IN SEVERAL WORKOUTS IN ONE DAY WITHOUT MY BODY SEIZING UP ON ME! I DON'T ENJOY LOOKING LIKE I AM SIX MONTHS PREGNANT! I know my strong body, who is hiding under this layer of fat, is in there. I want her back now.
The last of the five minute intervals was the hardest. I was tired. I was spent. I stopped running. I walked. Then a little voice started screaming in my ear. "Is this hard?" she said. "Yeah, it's fucking hard. It's a whole lot harder then sitting on the couch, surfing the internet all day, chatting to your friends. BUT...is it the hardest thing you have ever done?"
"NO, this is not the hardest thing I have ever done." I said back. And with tears down my face I picked up the pace and finished my last five minute run of the day.
I made a deal with myself that I would run (okay, it's really only a jog) in five minute intervals. I would do it three times during my walk. I would still be running the fifteen minutes, just not all at once yet. As I started out my first five minute interval I got pissed.
I'm pissed off that I'm not running the half marathon in the Get In Gear this year (I don't even know if I will be ready to run *anything* for that race.) I'm pissed that I gained forty fucking pounds! I'M MAD THAT I WAS SO MEAN AND BAD TO MY BODY! CAN YOU HEAR ME?!?! I'M PISSED OFF! I HATE NOT FEELING STRONG WHEN I RUN! I HATE LOOKING AT THE WATCH, HOPING MY FIVE MINUTES ARE UP SOON! I DON'T LIKE TRYING TO FIT IN SEVERAL WORKOUTS IN ONE DAY WITHOUT MY BODY SEIZING UP ON ME! I DON'T ENJOY LOOKING LIKE I AM SIX MONTHS PREGNANT! I know my strong body, who is hiding under this layer of fat, is in there. I want her back now.
The last of the five minute intervals was the hardest. I was tired. I was spent. I stopped running. I walked. Then a little voice started screaming in my ear. "Is this hard?" she said. "Yeah, it's fucking hard. It's a whole lot harder then sitting on the couch, surfing the internet all day, chatting to your friends. BUT...is it the hardest thing you have ever done?"
"NO, this is not the hardest thing I have ever done." I said back. And with tears down my face I picked up the pace and finished my last five minute run of the day.
Bitching, Crying, Screaming, Cussing
This past week, I've screamed at the top of my lungs. I've said hurtful things. I've been sarcastic (above and beyond my normally acceptable sarcasm). I've sobbed loudly while holding tight to my husband. I've lost it in front of my children over and over again. I've laid in my bed - all alone, letting the tears silently stream down my face. What might be so awful, you might ask? TRAINING!
My mind has been liking the sloth/party like behavior I've been practicing over the last 10 months. It enjoys being medicated and clouded by too much food and drink. This mind of mine has made me feel like all the 'normal' things that have happened this week are major crises and that I 'need' a release of some sort. Just a drink or two....an extra helping of dinner...slightly more then the ounce of cheese I had allotted for my night time snack.
I should be clear, it's not my whole mind that enjoys this kind of medicated lifestyle. It's what my sister and another close friend like to call the Lizard Brain. Well, I must have made a break through by the end of the week because that little Lizard Brain inside me has been quiet. I didn't cave in. I held strong to my training guidelines. I kept what is important to me in front of me. The heroine inside me has won this week and I'm proud of all I've done.
My official weigh-in is Monday morning, so we'll see if the *Goddess of Good Numbers on the Scale* will be nice to me. But even if she isn't....I feel strong and I ended the week on a happy note.
My mind has been liking the sloth/party like behavior I've been practicing over the last 10 months. It enjoys being medicated and clouded by too much food and drink. This mind of mine has made me feel like all the 'normal' things that have happened this week are major crises and that I 'need' a release of some sort. Just a drink or two....an extra helping of dinner...slightly more then the ounce of cheese I had allotted for my night time snack.
I should be clear, it's not my whole mind that enjoys this kind of medicated lifestyle. It's what my sister and another close friend like to call the Lizard Brain. Well, I must have made a break through by the end of the week because that little Lizard Brain inside me has been quiet. I didn't cave in. I held strong to my training guidelines. I kept what is important to me in front of me. The heroine inside me has won this week and I'm proud of all I've done.
My official weigh-in is Monday morning, so we'll see if the *Goddess of Good Numbers on the Scale* will be nice to me. But even if she isn't....I feel strong and I ended the week on a happy note.
Mother Freakin' Training
I started 'Training' this week. Training includes lots of exercise, good/whole foods (but at a limited caloric intake), very very little alcohol, and limited caffeine. Why am I doing all this?
It's to run the Ragnar Relay:
Teams of 12 running along the world-famous Mississippi River as we rock out, enjoy the wacky participant costumes [note to self: add polish my tiara to my to-do list] , and make life-long friends with teammates and competitors. The party runs along the Great River Road starting in Winona, MN cutting into Wisconsin and ending in Minneapolis, MN.
And I think it sounds like a mother freaking kick ass thing to do!
It's to run the Ragnar Relay:
Teams of 12 running along the world-famous Mississippi River as we rock out, enjoy the wacky participant costumes [note to self: add polish my tiara to my to-do list] , and make life-long friends with teammates and competitors. The party runs along the Great River Road starting in Winona, MN cutting into Wisconsin and ending in Minneapolis, MN.
And I think it sounds like a mother freaking kick ass thing to do!
Best Diet Ever!
I came up with it today. You see I do really good on Mondays and Tuesdays. One might even say I do "perfectly" those days. I eat healthy, staying away from refined foods and 'white' carbs. I don't drink. I track my calories. I exercise twice a day, and drink lots of water. I take my vitamin D and sometimes I even take all my multi-vitamins.
Then Wednesday comes. I get tired. I start to slip just a little bit. I might only workout once and I am pretty sure I will make room in my calorie count for some crackers with cheese at night (and maybe a small glass of wine). And I guarantee I do not take my vitamins, any of them.
Thursday comes. I sleep in just a little bit. I go to the homeschool playgroup and sit on my arse all afternoon. I usually still eat good, unless someone brings food to share. Then I get a tiny bit restless and I eat more then I should. I go home tired, worn out, not wanting to cook, and craving potatoes (God's personal gift to me - which will be a later post). I cook dinner, kind of, and usually eat a bit too much.
Friday. The morning goes just fine. I eat a simple breakfast and a decent lunch. And then?!? And then?!? Do I need to say more? It's the weekend baby. I want to celebrate. To me celebrations have always included good food, good drinks, and good people. Damn it, I think I gain five pounds every weekend.
Thank God for Sunday. A day to rest, relax, clean the house a bit. A day to have wine at dinner and plan for the upcoming week. These plans mostly include how I am going to really get my shit together and get 'serious' about loosing weight.
I've spent time reflecting on my behavior and I figure I can be perfect about 50% of the time and the other 50% of the time should just be considered 'golden' because of how perfect I was.
So here's the plan: It's called the A.M./P.M. Diet. It's going to revolutionize the entire weight loss community. It's flawless. From midnight until noon, you eat perfectly: lean organic meats/eggs, organic veggies, good fats, you drink lots of water, and keep your calories to less then 500.
As soon as noon hits, you're good to go. Have a Manhattan with your pesto burger and fries. Hell, it's afternoon and you already ate perfectly the first half of the day.
I'm sure you'll hit a craving for sweets sometime after 2:00. It's okay. Indulge. Go for that movie theater sized bag of Reeses pieces. You deserve it. You were flawless all morning.
Are you ready for dinner? I don't know about you, but I'm Jonesing for a kick ass steak with king crab legs, dipped in butter. Add a loaded baked potato, would you? And let me wash it down with a glass or three of wine. What the hell, you were awesome for the first half of the day.
Late night snack anyone? It's healthy to drink wine and eat cheese, so smother this Flacker with brie and keep my glass full! [writing note to self: Flackers are actually not 'bad' for you = bonus!] Shit! It's 11:59. Down the last drink, grab the Tums, slam some water and go to bed. You can sleep until noon.
Then Wednesday comes. I get tired. I start to slip just a little bit. I might only workout once and I am pretty sure I will make room in my calorie count for some crackers with cheese at night (and maybe a small glass of wine). And I guarantee I do not take my vitamins, any of them.
Thursday comes. I sleep in just a little bit. I go to the homeschool playgroup and sit on my arse all afternoon. I usually still eat good, unless someone brings food to share. Then I get a tiny bit restless and I eat more then I should. I go home tired, worn out, not wanting to cook, and craving potatoes (God's personal gift to me - which will be a later post). I cook dinner, kind of, and usually eat a bit too much.
Friday. The morning goes just fine. I eat a simple breakfast and a decent lunch. And then?!? And then?!? Do I need to say more? It's the weekend baby. I want to celebrate. To me celebrations have always included good food, good drinks, and good people. Damn it, I think I gain five pounds every weekend.
Thank God for Sunday. A day to rest, relax, clean the house a bit. A day to have wine at dinner and plan for the upcoming week. These plans mostly include how I am going to really get my shit together and get 'serious' about loosing weight.
I've spent time reflecting on my behavior and I figure I can be perfect about 50% of the time and the other 50% of the time should just be considered 'golden' because of how perfect I was.
So here's the plan: It's called the A.M./P.M. Diet. It's going to revolutionize the entire weight loss community. It's flawless. From midnight until noon, you eat perfectly: lean organic meats/eggs, organic veggies, good fats, you drink lots of water, and keep your calories to less then 500.
As soon as noon hits, you're good to go. Have a Manhattan with your pesto burger and fries. Hell, it's afternoon and you already ate perfectly the first half of the day.
I'm sure you'll hit a craving for sweets sometime after 2:00. It's okay. Indulge. Go for that movie theater sized bag of Reeses pieces. You deserve it. You were flawless all morning.
Are you ready for dinner? I don't know about you, but I'm Jonesing for a kick ass steak with king crab legs, dipped in butter. Add a loaded baked potato, would you? And let me wash it down with a glass or three of wine. What the hell, you were awesome for the first half of the day.
Late night snack anyone? It's healthy to drink wine and eat cheese, so smother this Flacker with brie and keep my glass full! [writing note to self: Flackers are actually not 'bad' for you = bonus!] Shit! It's 11:59. Down the last drink, grab the Tums, slam some water and go to bed. You can sleep until noon.
It's All In The Name
First off in my newest adventure is the name. I need a cool name. I can't copy Biggest Loser for obvious reasons: copyright infringement, no trainer, no fat farm, and there is only one person competing...me (I hope I win). I've been hanging out with thesaurus.com trying to come up with a catchy title for my game:
- Ample Deadbeat
- Enormous Down and Outer
- Monster Underdog
- Spacious Flunky
- Voluminous Flop
- Pint-Sized Hero
- Scanty Number One
- Small Scale Title-Holder
- 2010 year of the Tiger, I'm done being wider!
- I've kicked it before...Let's hear me roar?
- Gold Medal Skinny Bitch (actually I read that book in about one hour and thought it was stupid...just sayin')
- I Won a Gold Medal in Metabolism
Not Quite Fat Enough
Yeah, I'm struggling with my weight. I haven't weighed this much in my life....ever. It's sad. One of my favorite shows is Biggest Loser. I love watching over-weight people turn into athletes, probably because at one time I used to be an athlete. I love watching them work their arses off, sweat pouring off their bodies, and getting screamed at by Jillian. I can even tolerate Bob's mushy, "You can do it. I love you." crap.
Last week Bob and Jillian announce at the end of the show,"Think you got what it takes? Go on-line now and sign up for our next casting!" Hmph....I've got what it takes. I bet you $250,000 I could take whatever Jillian can dish out. I log onto the laptop, go to the Biggest Loser website, find the current casting link and...immediately notice that applicants must have at least 100 pounds to lose. I only need to loose 70 and I will be at my *super-ultimate* goal weight...I-am-not-fat-enough.
I weigh my options: Gain thirty pounds so I can possibly get a chance to work out with Jillian and get my arse kicked on national tv (including public weigh-ins wearing only my sports bra and spandex pants)? Or maybe...I do my own version of Biggest Loser: team colors, goofy challenges, crazy temptations, and even public weigh-ins wearing only my sports bra and spandex pants. I'm still debating...
Last week Bob and Jillian announce at the end of the show,"Think you got what it takes? Go on-line now and sign up for our next casting!" Hmph....I've got what it takes. I bet you $250,000 I could take whatever Jillian can dish out. I log onto the laptop, go to the Biggest Loser website, find the current casting link and...immediately notice that applicants must have at least 100 pounds to lose. I only need to loose 70 and I will be at my *super-ultimate* goal weight...I-am-not-fat-enough.
I weigh my options: Gain thirty pounds so I can possibly get a chance to work out with Jillian and get my arse kicked on national tv (including public weigh-ins wearing only my sports bra and spandex pants)? Or maybe...I do my own version of Biggest Loser: team colors, goofy challenges, crazy temptations, and even public weigh-ins wearing only my sports bra and spandex pants. I'm still debating...
Free Gym Buddy
Attention lady at the gym looking for a gym-buddy:
If I was interested in a gym-buddy I would enter the gym with a skip in my step, smiling and waiving. I would also:
a. not bring a book
b. not bring an iPod
c. not keep my eyes to my book, iPod, recumbent bike, or cell phone
So when you ask me (while I have ear-buds in) what book I'm reading, I won't hear you. Not only that, but when I do finally figure out that you are trying to get my attention I will think that I forgot to put my cell phone ringer on silent or that my child was clocked in the face with a basketball in the next gym. I will panic, ripping the ear-buds out. The music will have been on way too loud, so I will slightly yell, "What?" in that anxiety stricken voice. And when you say, "What book are you reading?" I will not answer you. I will just show you the cover of the book - which was already facing you! And when you ask me, "Is it any good? I heard it was good." I will give you the "what-the-f@ck?" look and say in an exasperated voice, "I don't know. I just started it." I will then turn back to my book, iPod, recumbent bike, and cell phone. I might even text somebody, letting them know what a dumb ass you are.
If I was interested in a gym-buddy I would enter the gym with a skip in my step, smiling and waiving. I would also:
a. not bring a book
b. not bring an iPod
c. not keep my eyes to my book, iPod, recumbent bike, or cell phone
So when you ask me (while I have ear-buds in) what book I'm reading, I won't hear you. Not only that, but when I do finally figure out that you are trying to get my attention I will think that I forgot to put my cell phone ringer on silent or that my child was clocked in the face with a basketball in the next gym. I will panic, ripping the ear-buds out. The music will have been on way too loud, so I will slightly yell, "What?" in that anxiety stricken voice. And when you say, "What book are you reading?" I will not answer you. I will just show you the cover of the book - which was already facing you! And when you ask me, "Is it any good? I heard it was good." I will give you the "what-the-f@ck?" look and say in an exasperated voice, "I don't know. I just started it." I will then turn back to my book, iPod, recumbent bike, and cell phone. I might even text somebody, letting them know what a dumb ass you are.
Shape Up Help?
There's an ad in our community education brochure for a group personal training class. You pay a slightly reasonable amount and get the following benefits:
*Scheduled workouts led by Certified Personal Trainers and Group Fitness Instructors in yoga, strength training, and cardio
*Be required to turn in daily meal plans for feedback - I'm wondering if you can just turn in any old 'meal plan' or if you are required to turn in what you 'actually' ate...just kidding.
*Be given tools to help produce lean muscle, increase energy, and see results
The Biggest Loser lover in me says, "YES! I wonder if they would go all Jillian or Bob on me?" The realist says, "I already know what I need to do. I just need to get off my arse and do it."
So my questions include: Why does this personal training thing sound so much more attractive to me then doing it on my own? Do I really need to email my food log to someone and have them tell me, "Kimberly, I don't think several glasses of wine, paired with late night snacks, is a *good* idea?" or any of the following:
"How about if you actually get up in the morning, re-establishing your morning yoga routine?"
"I know lifting weights isn't your favorite, but seriously you know it's the best way to produce lean muscle mass."
"I understand your life is busy, but you need to make time for your health."
"I know your bored with the recumbent bike, but if you're to achieve your goal of running a half-marathon this coming up spring you need to let your foot heal, duh."
"Speaking of the half-marathon...I don't think you want to run it at this weight, just sayin'."
Reality is that I need to figure this out for myself, on my own. It's damn time to quit lallygagging around and kick it in the ass for once and for all.
*Scheduled workouts led by Certified Personal Trainers and Group Fitness Instructors in yoga, strength training, and cardio
*Be required to turn in daily meal plans for feedback - I'm wondering if you can just turn in any old 'meal plan' or if you are required to turn in what you 'actually' ate...just kidding.
*Be given tools to help produce lean muscle, increase energy, and see results
The Biggest Loser lover in me says, "YES! I wonder if they would go all Jillian or Bob on me?" The realist says, "I already know what I need to do. I just need to get off my arse and do it."
So my questions include: Why does this personal training thing sound so much more attractive to me then doing it on my own? Do I really need to email my food log to someone and have them tell me, "Kimberly, I don't think several glasses of wine, paired with late night snacks, is a *good* idea?" or any of the following:
"How about if you actually get up in the morning, re-establishing your morning yoga routine?"
"I know lifting weights isn't your favorite, but seriously you know it's the best way to produce lean muscle mass."
"I understand your life is busy, but you need to make time for your health."
"I know your bored with the recumbent bike, but if you're to achieve your goal of running a half-marathon this coming up spring you need to let your foot heal, duh."
"Speaking of the half-marathon...I don't think you want to run it at this weight, just sayin'."
Reality is that I need to figure this out for myself, on my own. It's damn time to quit lallygagging around and kick it in the ass for once and for all.
Battle On...
Right now I am battling with my weight. I have so much to loose and I feel the task is so big that I tend to do not much about it. Sure, I've been working out more over the past month or so. And sure I've eaten better more days then I've eaten like crap, but...I'm still gaining weight.
Today I figured out why. You see I'm sad. I'm sad about how I have let myself go. I'm sad that I have been gluttonous at so many meals. I'm disappointed in the quantity of shiraz, zinfandel, and merlot that have slipped effortlessly down my throat. Top those beautiful glasses of vino off with the rich, high caloric, abundant food I've been eating....and here I am.
In a mere six months I have gained over thirty pounds. What the hell?!?!? In a mere six months I have gone from running a 10k to not being able to walk comfortably after running 2.5 miles. I know that *part* of this is due to my ankle injury, but *most* of it is.....me.
My counselor and I have been talking about my weight and she has asked me, "What are you stuffing?" I keep telling her, "Nothing." You see everything in my life is really good right now. My husband and I have been able to re-build a relationship that I never dreamed possible. My kids are fantastic. Besides the occasional "What were you thinking?" of my teens, I don't have a lot to complain about. I have an amazing sister who makes me laugh and wipes away my tears. My group of friends are highly supportive, and loving.
But I'm sad. As I was journaling today it hit me. Within the first minute of writing, this is what I wrote:
"I am so sad. With myself. I hate hate hate the way I look and feel right now. I feel uncomfortable, so I keep eating and drinking to numb how crappy I feel."
You see, I need to stop ignoring what I have done to my body. I need to stop pretending that I am not thirty pounds heavier then I was this spring. I need to stop numbing myself and let myself actually feel. I have been stuffing my feelings about my body and it must stop.
(For those of you on my cheering squad: I'm really not looking for any "it's okay, you're still pretty" type stuff. I just wanted to share what I am learning. <3)
Today I figured out why. You see I'm sad. I'm sad about how I have let myself go. I'm sad that I have been gluttonous at so many meals. I'm disappointed in the quantity of shiraz, zinfandel, and merlot that have slipped effortlessly down my throat. Top those beautiful glasses of vino off with the rich, high caloric, abundant food I've been eating....and here I am.
In a mere six months I have gained over thirty pounds. What the hell?!?!? In a mere six months I have gone from running a 10k to not being able to walk comfortably after running 2.5 miles. I know that *part* of this is due to my ankle injury, but *most* of it is.....me.
My counselor and I have been talking about my weight and she has asked me, "What are you stuffing?" I keep telling her, "Nothing." You see everything in my life is really good right now. My husband and I have been able to re-build a relationship that I never dreamed possible. My kids are fantastic. Besides the occasional "What were you thinking?" of my teens, I don't have a lot to complain about. I have an amazing sister who makes me laugh and wipes away my tears. My group of friends are highly supportive, and loving.
But I'm sad. As I was journaling today it hit me. Within the first minute of writing, this is what I wrote:
"I am so sad. With myself. I hate hate hate the way I look and feel right now. I feel uncomfortable, so I keep eating and drinking to numb how crappy I feel."
You see, I need to stop ignoring what I have done to my body. I need to stop pretending that I am not thirty pounds heavier then I was this spring. I need to stop numbing myself and let myself actually feel. I have been stuffing my feelings about my body and it must stop.
(For those of you on my cheering squad: I'm really not looking for any "it's okay, you're still pretty" type stuff. I just wanted to share what I am learning. <3)
Extra Baggage
Okay. I am about to admit something to the whole world. It is something that is hard for me to admit, because while my true friends see me up close and personal, some of you only know me by the internet or what you remember about me from a long, long time ago. Here it goes.....
I AM OVER WEIGHT! I am not talking the just ten pounds, or "firming" up kind of over weight. I'm talking forty-pounds-of-WAY-too-much-fat kind of over weight. I have been embarrassed by it since I became over weight in the summer of 1992. For those of you who have not followed my blog, that is the summer I was pregnant, was in a car accident, fractured my spine and pelvis, suffered nerve damage, and lost my baby.
I have been careful about pictures I post and tag myself in on Facebook. I have even been careful of actually meeting some of my Facebook friends in person. Some of you I still would not have met in person if it wasn't for your little surprise meetings...Lord knows what you all would say about me when you see more then a face shot. I could not even think about the judging and the crappy things that might be said behind my back. "Wow! She sure the hell got fat." But today was a miracle:
Today I was in my third car accident. (If we don't count the time I didn't have my license and my drunk father decided I "needed to learn how to drive" on a gravel road by Lake Sara and went into a ditch.)
Today I was stared at by someone in another car. I waved and hollered, "What the heck! Why are people staring at me!" My eight year old responded, "Maybe it's because you're beautiful." I giggled. My fourteen year old step-daughter chimed in, "Well, you are pretty."
Today one of my friends who also struggles with her weight admitted that she did NOT un-tag herself from photos on Facebook. That she is who she is. She was at the MFbbq and if she un-tags herself then she would "disappear" from the event, like she was never there. I admired her and respected her so much that I had no words to say to her. I was in awe of her inner beauty (and honestly she is really super physically pretty too).
And last, but not least, today a friend who is in the "just ten pounds or firming up" category was called fat. And to that I say.....srsly, what the...?!?!?!?
So, no more un-tagging or not tagging for me. I am still losing weight. It is weight that I gained a long, long time ago. It weight that I have lost and regained and will someday permanently release and let go of. I am who I am and...
I am the Mother Freakin' Princess. I have weight to lose and friends to gain, lives to touch, and reasons to make people smile.
I AM OVER WEIGHT! I am not talking the just ten pounds, or "firming" up kind of over weight. I'm talking forty-pounds-of-WAY-too-much-fat kind of over weight. I have been embarrassed by it since I became over weight in the summer of 1992. For those of you who have not followed my blog, that is the summer I was pregnant, was in a car accident, fractured my spine and pelvis, suffered nerve damage, and lost my baby.
I have been careful about pictures I post and tag myself in on Facebook. I have even been careful of actually meeting some of my Facebook friends in person. Some of you I still would not have met in person if it wasn't for your little surprise meetings...Lord knows what you all would say about me when you see more then a face shot. I could not even think about the judging and the crappy things that might be said behind my back. "Wow! She sure the hell got fat." But today was a miracle:
Today I was in my third car accident. (If we don't count the time I didn't have my license and my drunk father decided I "needed to learn how to drive" on a gravel road by Lake Sara and went into a ditch.)
Today I was stared at by someone in another car. I waved and hollered, "What the heck! Why are people staring at me!" My eight year old responded, "Maybe it's because you're beautiful." I giggled. My fourteen year old step-daughter chimed in, "Well, you are pretty."
Today one of my friends who also struggles with her weight admitted that she did NOT un-tag herself from photos on Facebook. That she is who she is. She was at the MFbbq and if she un-tags herself then she would "disappear" from the event, like she was never there. I admired her and respected her so much that I had no words to say to her. I was in awe of her inner beauty (and honestly she is really super physically pretty too).
And last, but not least, today a friend who is in the "just ten pounds or firming up" category was called fat. And to that I say.....srsly, what the...?!?!?!?
So, no more un-tagging or not tagging for me. I am still losing weight. It is weight that I gained a long, long time ago. It weight that I have lost and regained and will someday permanently release and let go of. I am who I am and...
I am the Mother Freakin' Princess. I have weight to lose and friends to gain, lives to touch, and reasons to make people smile.
