Not quite what I had in mind

God has a sense of humor.  No surprise since He is the creator of all things that He would also create humor and use it.  Sometimes, though, I think He saves testing his really big jokes on me.

As I neared 60, the “spare tire” began to increase in size.  Couple this with a high cholesterol reading (always been in the almost too low range) and you have the making of a not too good old woman.  I am active but needed to step up my game.  My motivation was sparse so I prayed for God to help me with the problem and provide a solution to my weight loss.  I was thinking He would give me a taste for Weight Watchers Food, free Nutrisystem meals or restore my knees so I could run again.  It also occurred to me he could just have me wake up pounds lighter with no work at all.  I go to bed overweight and wake up svelte. That kind of thing.

Instead, God sent me a dog.






I have been the owner of 2 cats (actually 2 sets of 2 cats) for over 20 years.  They travel with us, are independent, use the litter box and easy to manage.  Except for the demand for treats and food at 6 am, they have been lovely pets.  The dog, on the other hand, has disrupted the household (and me) in ways you cannot imagine.

1. He has to be walked. Several times a day.  We live in a zero lot line home with no yard and also travel extensively in an RV.  The dog has to be walked for exercise and my husband has a bad back which precludes him from walking long distances so guess who has to walk the dog.  Me.
2. The dog has to be walked early in the am.  No more lounging in my jammies drinking coffee until noon.  Nope, it’s feet hit the floor, brush teeth, throw on walking clothes and walk the dog.  I don’t even get a sip of Coffee!!
3. The dog has to be walked late morning and it has to be a long walk to calm him down.  He is still a puppy weighing 42 pounds.  When that wound up energy comes at you ... well.... it’s good to keep him exhausted.
4. The dog has to be walked in the afternoon.  The dog likes treats.  The dog responds to training with treats so I have to walk him for extra exercise so he doesn’t get any heavier than 42 pounds.  We don’t need a 60 pound lap dog.  (Did I mention the dog thinks he is a Chihuahua?)
5. The dog has to be walked before bedtime to prohibit being rudely awaken to a wet nose in my face or howling in the middle of the night.  He takes great pride in being housebroken.

I am not sure if it is the 10,000 steps per day or the profuse sweating that occurs during my walks that has started the weight loss but a few pounds have been shed, I am sleeping like a baby and my stress seems to be less.  

God has a sense of humor but he also knows what we need when we need it.  Even if we don’t.

Why are you running if there is no one chasing you?

Life has just been too busy to blog! My apologies to everyone who has been following the weight loss and encouraging me. To date I have lost about 15 pounds but still have a ways to go. Good news is ...

I have finished my second half-marathon! THE FIRST ONE WASN'T A FLUKE!

I can really run 13.1 miles without dying! And I can finish in one day (actually a little over 3 hours).

Which brings me to my next story for the blog which we shall entitle...

"Running halfway downhill."

My friend (we'll call her "G" to protect the innocent) got me into this running thing. She joined our company full of enthusiasm and energy which is unbounded. We were so excited about her joining and embraced that energy with all of our heart. So, it was with a totally open mind that we agreed to let her plan a little "team building" event.

Now, I was thinking we would all go out to eat together. Someplace nice. You know, a restaurant that didn't allow tennis shoes. A real "get gussied up" event so I could wear my good jewelry.

Someone should have had the presence of mind to put some parameters around this assignment because "G" decided we would all train for and run in the Country Music Half Marathon in April! SHE ANNOUNCED THIS IN FEBRUARY!! We were all so dumbfounded we actually agreed we would do it. What were we thinking.....

Now, let me remind you that this is prior to the Losing Alaska adventure (see blog posting of May 11, 2006) so I was a bit heavy and, well, let's face it.. I was a slug. I was an athlete in high school and college but had settled into that career woman fluffiness and had my work cut out for me. "G", however, could not be dissuaded and volunteered to create a non-fail training plan that would get me off of that couch for more than a cookie. In a fit of exuberance unmatched only by a cult member who just drank Kool-Aid I gave my word I would run this race.

A Southern Belle cannot go back on her word. I would never be able to attain Sweet Potato Queen status if that got out into the community. I would simply have to buckle down and begin my training program and gave "G" the go ahead to write up that training plan and, by the way, make it aggressive.

The next day she presented the plan. I don't remember too much after the first 5 minutes she let me see it because I had an asthma attack precipitated by the big gasp of air I took in after reading the first line ... "Run 2 miles."

RUN 2 MILES! RUN 2 MILES! I couldn't even walk up the stairs without stopping every third step and she wanted me to RUN (not walk) 2 miles! And that was just the first week. This was insane. There were also these things called "long runs" which essentially meant you got up out of your bed very early in the morning, donned your running attire (there is a dress code), ate a banana, strapped 5 gallons of water to your back and spent the entire day running.. non-stop. You just run... for miles, and miles, and miles. You come home at dark, take a bottle of ibuprofen and go to bed. You do this one day a week. The other 3-4 training days you just run half of the day. Those are "short runs."

To make a long story short, I stuck to the plan (albeit not without a lot of pain and a short stint of being unable to walk without crutches which I'll blog about later) and finished the race. It was extremely gratifying and I had not planned to replicate that adventure ever again... ever.. never... Until...

The St. Jude Memphis Marathon is traditionally run in December. On the circuit it is a well respected and very well organized race so "G" decides we have to participate. After all, we just need to continue on with our training plan and it will be easy.

"But I doth protest" I stated. "I am still dragging one leg behind me and it's the middle of July." This gal can do some selling (or rather I'm too stupid to think for myself) and replies, "But it's an easy course. 6.5 miles of it are downhill! It's a easy run."

Well OK then! If it's 6.5 miles downhill then count me in. I couldn't sign my registration form fast enough.

Let's fast forward to December 2, 2006 - the day of the race. The race begins at 8 a.m. and we have all agreed to meet downtown and start the race together. Our company has paid our entry fee and provided some cool shirts to wear. I get up, kiss my hubby goodbye, grab my energy bars, my MP3 player (which has the coolest music mix perfectly timed to help me keep my pace), my asthma inhaler and off we go. I stepped outside and it's 30 below zero. There is nothing to prepare you for a cold weather race. It's brutal. Luckily I had done my research and dressed in layers.

I march to the starting line and take off. At mile 3 I have a hot flash which could have powered a small city and removed my sweatshirt to cool off. I turn the corner for mile 4 which is along the river and the temperature drops 50 degrees in the space of 1 inch. I get chilled and decide to put my sweatshirt back on but forget to untie the arms which was the mechanism I had used to hold the shirt around my waist. I pull the sweatshirt down over my head and it gets stuck at the arms.

Note - I am trying to reapply my shirt while running so I don't lose time.

I am extremely claustrophobic and the sweatshirt gets stuck on my head. I panic and begin to twirl in circles around and around in the middle of the street screaming my head off. Some kind fellow grabs me by the shoulders, stops my twirling, unties the arms of the sweatshirt, pulls it down over my head and sends me on my way. I cry in relief. Big menopausal tears. Some kind soul had sacrificed his running time to save me from a sweatshirt.

Now, let's move to mile 6. At this point of the course the people running the full marathon loop back and are running toward those of us who are slow and running the half. I see the Elite Athletes. They look like Gazelles. It is a beautiful sight watching these guys run so effortlessly. I cry... Big menopausal tears. People begin to move quickly away from me as I sob "That is so beautiful. See them running. Isn't that just something!"

At mile 6.5 I cry because I've made it half-way. At mile 10 I cry because I have entered double digits. At mile 13 I cry when I see the finish line and at the finish line I cry just because it's the thing to do. Big fat, snotty nosed tears. How embarrassing! Menopause is heck on the emotions.

When I crossed the finish line my friends "G" and "K" were there waiting. "K" ran the last few feet with me and I fell into "G's" arms for a big hug when I cross the line but only after I have slapped her. I had finally figured out you had to run 6.5 miles uphill to run 6.5 miles downhill. I will never let her talk me into anything again. Well, hope springs eternal.

Women are from Venus... Men are from some planet I have never astral projected to!

First, an update on the weight loss. I've stalled. I lost my Nutribuddy and went into a diet depression. Right now I have about 1/2 of a shelf in my pantry filled with little boxes of pre-cooked food. I keep looking at it and telling myself it won't hurt me but those darn brown sugar cinnamon PopTarts keep calling my name! I am, however, continuing to run so I figure I'm offsetting part of those 1 million calories. Now for the real story.

Speaking of running, I came home one night (very late) exhausted and stressed to the max. My shoulders were above my head and my head was about to explode from the tension headache. Not to speak of the knot I had in my shoulders. I decided to jump on the treadmill and run a couple of miles thinking it would wear me out. And wear me out it did. I completed my mileage and decided to sit in the chair right outside the room where my treadmill lives. (All of this is taking place upstairs and my hubby is downstairs watching the news.) The time is about 8 p.m. I fell asleep. Now just any sleep but hard, snoring, drool running down the side of my mouth sleep. I woke up about 10 p.m. and realized where I was.

I came stumbling down the stairs, hair plastered down on one side of my head and spiked on the other, dried drool on the side of my face and just a wee bit aggravated my husband had not even come upstairs to check on me. The audacity of this man. I could have been face down on the treadmill with my face half burned off by the belt and he would not have noticed. AND, my left arm is numb.

By the time I get downstairs I have worked myself into a frenzy and totally convinced I am having a heart attack. This fit perfectly into my logic as I had run harder than normal and probably stressed my heart. I was lucky I hadn't died right there in the chair.

When I announced the delimma to hubby his response was to walk to the kitchen and say "Here, take an aspirin." My head spun around when I realized he didn't even give me an aspirin but an ADVIL! So, let's add this up...

1. He leaves me upstairs to die and
   
2. He doesn't even care about getting me the right medicine.
   

Am I singing to the choir here gal pals?

I was so angry I stormed off to the bedroom (with my numb arm flying in the breeze) and took a bath to wash that drool off my face. Afterwards I decided to give hubby a chance to make amends (what was I thinking?). I announce my arm is feeling somewhat better and he announces I am interrupting the show he is watching. But, he has the aspirin bottle handy, just in case.

I can't even see I am so mad. I decide to go to bed but wake up at 1 a.m. realizing he is still up and hasn't come to check on me. What if I had died!! Right there in the bed!

I've had enough! I storm into the den and give him a piece of my mind for being an uncaring human being. He replies ... "I knew you weren't going to die. See, you're standing right here." as he holds up the aspirin bottle. He is just lucky that bottle didn't get stuck where the sun doesn't shine.

My retort was as follows: "You obviously don't care if I die BUT, let me tell you something Mister. If I die, it's going to be in that bed and dead people pee all over themselves. That Tempur-pedic mattress will be ruined so you won't be able to put another women on my side of the bed!"

And with that, I relaxed and went to bed. Slept like a baby the remainder of the night. Future revenge is so sweet.

I think we have melting going on!!!

First, let's get the bad stuff out of the way. It was Mother's Day and I cheated. I got permission from my Mommy so it's ok. "Besides baby. You'll have an extra lunch in your box." All I needed to hear. So I fell off that wagon and rolled right under it licking my chops all the way. Not to worry, I climbed back on the next day.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, we are losing part of Alaska. 8 lbs have dissappeared which is the equivalent of 4 ice chips coming off of this glacier sized behind but it's a start. I must admit the food for this diet is good. Not Italian Mamma-In-Law cooking kind of good but passable and they have a peanut butter chocolate bar that ROCKS.

I'll keep you posted...

PS: By the way, I didn't succumb to tempation this a.m. Our office manager brought in Krispy Kreme donuts and I didn't even have a taste. I think there were some left over... do they lose calories over night?

Losing Alaska

*** May 11, 2006 -- Evening

I told my family the house was on fire so they would run out in the yard and leave me alone so I could count my boxes. Unloaded everything into neat little piles... breakfast, lunch, dinner and dessert. Heavens to Betsy - I ordered an awful lot of Peanut Butter cookies and PoppySeed muffins. Small controversy erupted when I discovered we had no room in the pantry to store 35 days of perfectly packaged little meals. My husband had the audicity to suggest I put them BACK IN THE BOX and put them in the garage. Horrors! What the heck was he thinking. This is the diet that let's you have chocolate. Does he have no shame. These precious packets need to be handled with care. After all, this is my only nourishment for the next 35 days and everyone knows you don't get between a fat girl and her cookies.

*** May 11, 2006

I have received "The Box." NutriBuddy received hers yesterday so I was prepared. It was sitting so very patiently on my porch waiting on me to drag it in so I could count various boxes marked breakfast, lunch and dinner to ensure I got my free week. Almost got a hernia dragging the thing in. IT WAS HEAVY!
But, thanks to my NutriBuddy's expert advice, I was saved from dialing that 800 number on the yellow sticker (it was very enticing) and listening to some thin chick make me depressed because she had lost 500 pounds in 2 weeks just by looking at the boxes of food.
"Just think what would happen if you actually did the system...." She says in a breathy porn-star voice.
But, alas, my son had an emergency (computer couldn't connect to the internet... God forbid!) so the counting was interrupted. However, I did read everything in the packet contained inside including the mind bending information on psyching yourself out and making a list putting yourself as a priority (do you think he was watching me last night when I stopped counting to assist my son?). Started my morning with a cup of black coffee. I believe in starting new things slowly.
Last night I binged with a decadent dessert at a fine dining restaurant, ate a MCDONALD'S sausage and biscuit this a.m. and then routed my fat little legs to the Old Venice Pizza cafe to load up on pasta for lunch. Yes, I'm having my last supper(s) before I start the program. I anticipate a trip to the grocery to buy the dairy, fruits and other assorted stuff to complement my cardboard meals this weekend. All in preparation for a Monday start. The big weigh-in will be Sunday night (after my glass(es) of wine of course so my senses will be somewhat dulled).
Reminded my NutriBuddy to take her "before" shot yet? "Remember, one straight on and one from the side!

***** Saturday May 6, 2006

I've decided to reduce the fluff. The deciding factor was a glimpse of my behind while walking on the beach (not in a bathing suit thank goodness!) and realizing it had blanked out the sun. In other words, the size of Alaska. Not good. So, I am participating in a popular weight loss system that let's you eat chocolate. You've seen the commercial -- "Any diet that lets me eat chocolate is the diet for me!" Got me hook, line and sinker - and credit card. Luckily I will not go down this road alone. My friend's sister (more about that relationship and how it evolved later) ordered her magic box right before I did. We've decided to be NutriBuddies and give each other moral support.