Where’s that Weigh-in…

Maybe you’re wondering, maybe you don’t give a rat’s patootie, maybe you just stumbled over here because you searched “how do I know that my coworker Googled me” (yes, that’s the top referrer to my blog, sadly) and don’t even care about Weight Watchers, running, healthy eating or lil ol me :D

Well, the truth of the matter is that I was back up to 160.2lbs exactly AGAIN. Weird, I know.

BUT, I fully expected it. I seem to get crazy puffy and bloated after long runs, like I saw after the 24km run a few weeks ago, and I don’t seem to get the crazy water weight losses that many experience after a race.

And there may have been some Pringles involved post-race to bump up the water retention, along with all of the salt in the supplements sucked back during and post-race. Not too many chips, though. I actually threw out half of the can yesterday morning.

The weirdest thing post-race has been the disappearance of my appetite for about 48 hours and it’s only slowly coming back now.  I tried to force myself to eat after the race but could only stomach the pitas they gave us there, and then tried to make a healthy pasta dinner at home, but barely made it through half of it before putting it away. That’s where the Pringles came in but even those were unappealing. Odd for me. And that was NOWHERE near enough calories to make up for what I had burned off that day. Seriously. And I’ve been half eating meals since, too.

And although I used to be a daily weigher, I’ve been really good about ONLY weighing myself once a week. I won’t be looking at my weight again until next Monday, so I have no clue how this is all affecting me, but I feel super run down, beat up and like a sack o’crud.

But one GIANT pick me up was a  FANFREAKINTASTIC cookie that a clinic participant made last night in celebration of double digits (10km for them and 30km for me!). I may have one on my desk here at work for a snack today or I may just bronze it and keep it to cherish FOREVER. It was a variation of the Momofuku compost cookie (seriously – Google it for a recipe. Oh! Look there. I even helped you!) that included white chocolate (my fave!).  I know I shouldn’t be celebrating with food, but it was one cookie. Ok, two. But it was awesome. The champion of cookies. So awesome. I’m eyeing it right now and drooling. Get me a mop!

 

So hopefully all will be better next week. I hope. I pray. I beg. I plead.

After all, it’s Easter this weekend.

And I’m running crawling this bad boy on Saturday.

And leading a 10km LSD with the clinic on Sunday. Bunny ears may be included.

And then there’s chocolate with the kiddos.

Welcome to the roller coaster that is my life.

Please fasten your seatbelts and keep your arms inside of the ride at all times.

It is a bumpy ride.

But always entertaining, no? :)

Race Report - Ugly Mug Included

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Before I Forget...

This is the bag I'll be carrying my gear with me today as I head to Hamilton to stay overnight.

I'll also be carrying a lot of worry and fear with me.

I know, I'm silly. Deal with it.

There's also a lot of crap I probably don't need.

I'm a Scout leader. I'm prepared. Sue me.

This is my ugly fuel belt.

A necessary evil when you run anything over 10km.

Don't trust the water they give out at aid stations.

I love when you go by early and see them filling it from a hose and a hydrant.

Bleh.

This is the pocket I attach to my fuel belt.

This is where I stash my shot bloks, sharkies or any other food to eat along the way so you won't find me ass up in a bush.

Please crawl in so I can draw on you for support.

30km is hella long.

I'm going to need you.

Off I go :)

Good luck H-woman, Hezzy, Laura, James, Yumke, Nicole and everyone else out there running :)

I know accountability includes a “u” and an “i”

With a title like that you’d think I’m here to confess to you right?

WRONG.

I don’t have much to confess to and I am just lacking in the creativity department today (mostly because I’m preoccupied).

But I’m realizing that so many of us rely on others to keep us on track, to watch what we’re eating, to see how much we’re losing and to pick us up when we fall.

Why can’t we find it within us?

I’m always going to have a problem with binge eating. Always have, always will. That is my issue and I will freely admit it to anyone that will listen. I can eat a large pizza, full size bag of chips or tub of ice cream by myself and in one sitting. And sadly, I could probably eat a combo of those things, too.

But do I need someone watching me like a hawk to prevent me from doing that? Do I need to come here to write out everything I eat every day in order to do that?  Should I install a nanny cam so that I keep my portions in check given that I live a sad little single life?

*eyes the Pinky & the Brain dolls behind the couch suspiciously*

Coming here and engaging in an honest way about my thoughts and feelings every now and again is helpful, yes, but finding the strength within myself, knowing that I have only myself to answer to and that it’s only me that I let down/hurt/hold back is really key.

We’re human and we’re not built to be perfect. We have odd bits and parts unique to each one of us, quirks and habits that are going to be different across the board, so why do we feel that we aren’t allowed to mess up, have to start again, stray off every now and again, deviate from a regimented path?

I GET how important it is to live a healthy life, but for our own sanity, you have to be able to be flexible, roll with the punches and give yourself breathing room. You have to be able to live life and not worry about what everyone else is doing and how we measure up.

I know I’m guilty of it TIME AND TIME AGAIN and this time I think what is REALLY helping me is that I just don’t give a crap how I stack up to any of you.

I really don’t.

I’m happy for you if you’re 5’6 and 130lbs. Truly, I am, but I will never be that girl.

Good for you if you can run a half marathon in 1:45. I will never be that girl.

I’m happy to be the girl who can just run (although I like to call it pathetic jog, and some days I’m not exactly thrilled to even run, but you know that and get what I mean). I’m happy that I’m nearing a healthy weight range again. I’m tickled to be fitting in clothes that have been sitting in darkened corners of my closet. I’m happy to have two comments or ten.

But it took me awhile to get to this place and that’s because I’ve realized I need to be accountable to me first. Me alone.

And then I share that with you.

I guess that makes us a team in the end, eh?

But keep an eye out for those stuffed animals. I don’t trust them. Something about taking over the world…

I know it’s not right to love objects

But right now I love the digital devil.

We’re BFFs right now, not to be confused with my BF Norman.

As you can see, my weigh-in today was 158.6, down .9, which I will take and run like a thief in the night.

I made some good and bad choices this week, just like any other week, but as always, the good wins out and triumphs over the devil, as seen at right.

And as much as I nattered on about my lack of confidence while naked the other day, my confidence clothed is growing more and more each day, and the black cloud that surrounded me last year is pretty much gone. It seems to shock people just how positive I truly am.

Like the other day, some random douchebag from my past decided to send me a message to get in my pants see how life was treating me, and was shocked when the following happened:

RDFP: So how’s life?

Mouse: Pretty awesome, thanks.

RDFP: Seriously?

Mouse: Yeah, it is :)

So as much as I may bitch and whine about certain things here, there and everywhere, things are pretty darn awesome.

I have to keep remembering that life isn’t always easy and every day is going to be a struggle, but the end result is amazing.

All I really want back is that feeling. Sure, the numbers on the scale are great, but the feelings I associate with being back at my goal weight are what I TRULY miss.

And I’m getting back pieces of that every day.

And today, part of it is thanks to that stupid piece of glass and metal up there.

Insecurity, Confidence and Cardio?

Lately I’ve been trying to take different routes to work to try and avoid routine and monotony. As soon as that happens, bad habits set in and I am SUNK. On will come the lethargy and out will come the Ben & Jerry’s…Elastic waist pants will soon follow. Mark. My. Words.

So I’ve been passing by this sign in a little laneway, tucked near Bay & Wellesley.

It bugs the shizz out of me.

I’m tempted to grab those pants, a pint of cheesecake brownie and those comfy pants, let me tell you.

This sign does nothing to motivate me into a gym.

Why?

It only reinforces my hatred/embarrassment/shame/whatever of the apron that hangs off of my lower abdomen. I think about all of the time and effort that I’ve put into the gym and running over the last four years, all of the healthy choices I’ve made diet-wise (yes, I know there’s been some bad choices too) and all of the growing up as well as “wising-up” that I’ve done in terms of being healthy and staying healthy.

But will I ever TRULY feel good naked?

I highly doubt it.

It’s taken me time to learn to love bits of my body and its strange proportions. My top will always be smaller than my bottom. My arms will never tone as much as I want them and my legs will always look like tree trunks. But they’re mine and my legs are strong and carry me across finish lines and my arms can lift up my nieces & nephew into giant, squishy bear hugs. But I can’t get over that stupid flap. Can’t. Do. It.

In fact, I had a conversation a few months ago with a former flame about plastic surgery and the dreaded apron came up.

He assumed if I ever had the opportunity to get “work done,” I’d opt for face work, a boob job or something along those lines. He was shocked to find how happy I was with my appearance, how apathetic I am about the size of my breasts, but how focused I am about removing that flap of skin if I ever had the chance.

He knows I’m self conscious about it. It was always an issue. But he never truly understood how deeply it affected me until that very moment.

But don’t get me wrong. I can be a confident woman all I want to be. I feel good all of the freakin’ time. Just fully clothed, thank you very much.

So, I hate to break it to you, stupid gym in a hidden little laneway, you aren’t going to help me much.

Unless you’re providing free abdominoplasty upon registration.

Then I’ll be walking around with your frickin’ board strapped to me.

Remember that time where I was doing P90x?

Yeah, I try to forget it sometimes.

But then there are times where I hear people are doing it up or someone is thinking about trying it and then ask me for advice because they remember I did it for awhile and then I nervously laugh and look away, try and change the conversation or point out some shiny object.

Oooh! Pretty!

But here is the God’s honest truth…

1. Yoga tweaked my knee
   FREAKIN YOGA, PEOPLE! And that DVD was the one I hated the most, by the way. And it couldn’t have come at a worse time. It was just a few weeks before I was to run the Scotia Half again. Did I really want to risk injury for the sake of the mediocre results I was getting? HELLS NO! Plus, I had a crappy race at that. So we gave it up TOUT DE SUITE! Plus it was mother lovin’ long. Hello?! attention span of a flee! Speaking of which…
2. Time Suckage
   I was unemployed when I was first trying them out, but really – those bad boys take up a lot of your time, which I have NONE now. Ok, that’s a wee bit hypocritical. This coming from a girl who will spend three hours running ONE race next weekend (EEP!), but really? An hour in my living room every day? Sometimes an hour and a half (frackin’ yoga)? Spent sweating? In front of my tv? In my living room? By myself? Really? That seems a bit boring. Oh wait…that’s number…
3. My muscles aren’t confused, they’re bored!
   Same thing. Over and Over. Week in. Week out. Oh wait. You give me a teeny bit of variety in there after four weeks. Just a smidge. Barely perceptible. Yup. Bored again. I’ve done this before. *yawn*
   
   Give me the open road! Give me scenery! Give me variety! GIVE ME SOMETHING, DAMMIT! Because after a week or two, I’m getting HELLA BORED and I want to turn off the bloody dvd. This is why I hate the 30 Day Shred. I hate the same thing over and over and over and over and ZZZZzzzz…
4. Tony Horton
   Good GOD! I get that you have to be ON and motivating and cheery, but tone it the eff down. If I wanted cheerleaders, I’d watch cheerleaders! If I wanted cheese, I’d look in my fridge! And no one is THAT damn happy to be working out! Plus, you’re dogging it most of the time, dude! That flying trapeze chick is working up a sweat and you’re busy giggling like a school girl. Does not make me want to get ripped, X-style, or whatever.

BUUUUUUUUUUUUUT, in all fairness, it IS a good workout.

Would I try it again? Who knows? The testimonials out there are crazy amazing. The before & afters are PHENOMENAL. But you have to be committed and driven. I clearly wasn’t. There wasn’t enough there to keep me interested. Perhaps if it was a program that I had to physically go to, at an interesting venue with interesting people, then YES – I’d be all over that shizz. Alas, my crappy lil apartment is not conducive to a major fitness transformation.

Sorry, Tony.

Maybe once in awhile I’ll visit you and we’ll share some laughs.

Just not for yoga.

The sight of you in those tights is something NO ONE should be subjected to.

That’s technically number five.

Trust me - You’ll thank me later.

Fumbling Towards Mediocrity?

The last two weeks have seen me operate on autopilot.

I haven’t made bad choices per se, but I haven’t been tracking as I should be. The only thing that truly saves me is that I don’t allow any crap into my apartment and that I still make large meals on Sundays, portioning them out for lunches throughout the week. So somehow, someway, I must manage to squeak into my daily allowance, or just above, using my Weekly Points and Activity Points, earned through Run Club or the gym. I must, right? But that would require me tracking faithfully and measuring all of the time to know this FOR SURE. Because measuring 75 per cent of the time, like I have been, isn’t cutting it, CLEARLY.

But obviously something sort of worked this week, or I was only moderately good as I’m back to 159.5lbs.

It’s all good though.

Because it proves how sustainable it can be for me in the long run. How I can get back to maintenance at some point again and have it be second nature. I CAN maintain a weight, making appropriate choices, eating intuitively and not eating a lot of junk, getting activity and managing to stay the same weight.

But at this point I don’t think it’s good enough. I want to achieve greater things and get back to a better place. I want to run faster, move more quickly and feel better about myself. Sure, I feel somewhat content and am pleased with how quickly, easily and pain-free things have gone so far, but the past few weeks have not seen me put a full-effort in.

Mediocrity will get me through life, but not get me to my goals.  Half-assing inspires no one and will only keep me on the sidelines, not at the finish line.

Just getting by means life is still passing you by.

I’m already watching things pass by in a blur, I don’t need to missing out on even more.

This is me, trying to grab life by the horns again.

Giddy up.

Where to draw the line?

My life is an open book. Always has been, always will be. I’d like to think that I’m fairly approachable, but I know that both in social settings and especially when it comes to dating that people find me intimidating (which makes me laugh because half of the time I sound like a kid and act like one too).

Fine. Whatever.

But I also share a lot with you here. From letting you know how much I weigh to letting you know EXACTLY how that makes me feel and relaying thoughts and feelings on studies and articles PLUS the general drivel that pours out of my head on the most random of topics.

But know that there’s a lot that I don’t and will not share with you either.

I’m vague about work for a reason, I respect the rights and wishes of family members, coworkers and friends to their privacy, referring to them by initials at times and leaving out images if they wish and I never really talk about my love life (or lack there of, really).

Is that hypocritical then? Open but closed? Carefree but guarded? An enigma wrapped in a puzzle?

I only ask because we choose to be open, out there, and available on the ‘net. We choose to engage in conversations, communities and relationships, but only when we want and on our terms. We can give the appearance of being open, honest, participatory, welcoming, engaging, trusting, forthright, and honest, but be holding back so much.

The key to being successful, in life, with goals, careers, relationships and in communities like the ones created through blogs is about being transparent and honest. So is holding back being deceitful or do we have a right to privacy?

Do I even make sense?

I just want to know how and where you draw the line. What distinctions do you make as to what is blogworthy, tweetworthy, lifestreamable, youtubeable and what is untouchable?

What do you mark public and what do you keep private?

 

 

**keep in mind, this is in no way directed at any one or their own circumstances/situations that may have arisen out of privacy and the ‘net of late. It’s really my own musings about it. And if you’re feeling guilty about how you found me and how you got me and know me in real life, don’t :). I’ve been thinking about these things for awhile and the post was born out of a couple of conversations in the past two weeks.**

You Can’t Always Get What You Want

Sometimes your scale is a giant biznatch.

Ok, so maybe I’m being overly dramatic today. Probably because I’m extremely cranky from having to do work all weekend and not actually getting a weekend, but then again I need to be thankful that I’m actually employed, right? RIGHT!

But when you run 30km over two days and your scale goes up, up, UP, you’re allowed to be a bit pissy, right? I burned off 4000 calories last week and didn’t eat in excess of those so how the flippity flop could I have packed on any poundage?!

It settled back at 160.2, with me not going over my points and eating right, and I’m alright with it, but I’m not exactly thrilled.

I shouldn’t blame the scale, I know. It lies squarely with me.

Feel free to give me the there, theres and gentle reminders in the comments about how it’s my body adjusting, retaining water, blah blah, I KNOW. It’s not a big gain, I shouldn’t be so hard on myself, yadda yadda, etc.

I’m just cranky, venting, what not, as this is the place to do it.

Plus, this is the day that I’m honest and accountable about what the scale gives me and I’m also blunt with the reactions and feelings about THAT number.

So just like I can’t always get what I want, neither can you.

There are no fluffy kittens and rainbows here today, my friends.

 

See Friday’s post for that. It’s a good one :)

Sometimes it’s not all about you…

I’ve talked a lot about my schedule lately. It’s been hard to juggle and I’ve come up short in a lot of places. Some things definitely fall by the wayside, things don’t get done on time and I miss out on a lot of opportunities.

One thing I really have to juggle is my time between clinic instructing and Scouts, two things I really don’t want to have to choose between but I’m often forced to.

I also had to choose between camping with my Scouts and running plus my passion for all things nerdy with Podcamp Toronto a few weekends ago.

See, I take my leadership role there seriously. I love the fact that I get to teach these boys some skills that will see them through life, especially since a one or two of them have special needs that can make life that much more challenging. It also makes it fairly challenging for myself and my father, but I love watching them work through the whole process and then applying what they’ve learned.

And when they earn a badge - it's almost magical.

See, I was working with one kid, D, on a project leading up to our Winter camp. He can’t seem to soak up enough information. He’s always telling me this will be his last year so I am pushing him through as much as I can. So for camp, he was to learn about compasses and maps, and then lead the group in an activity to demonstrate his knowledge. We went through an orienteering book, I taught him the points on a compass and how to take simple bearings just a few days before, but he was on his own for creating a small game for the troop out in the “wild.”

Well, apparently it went quite well, despite the other Scouters getting the kids a bit lost and them missing a mark or two, but they all had fun. Little D earned his leadership badge and was thrilled. But when I couldn’t be there when he was to be presented with the badge the first meeting night back, he told my father that he wouldn’t accept it until “Sidekick” (the nickname the boys have affectionately called me since day one, when they weren’t sure whether to accept me or send me packing. They call me that because they see me as my dad’s partner) returned. So despite my commitments at a work event this week, plus running room, I made my way, albeit late, to my troop meeting and was jumped on, high fived and pretty much greeted like Norm at Cheers when I arrived.

But the best was when D got his badge. A horseshoe in a Scout meeting is supposed to be a serious time where you stand at attention and act more military like than school yard like, but there was jumping, fist pumping, high fives, squeals and shouts. D was so excited and just about knocked me over. He thanked me profusely for all of the help that I’ve given him over the past few weeks, because without me, he couldn’t have done it (his words).

This kid stopped me in my tracks. Here I am thinking about how busy my life is, how much I cram in it, but I really don’t think about what I give. I sit there and look for tangible and measureable things in my life to show other people to say, “HA! Look what I’ve done! See what I’ve achieved!” but there is truly so much more that I’ve done that I can’t even possibly show people because they’re walking, talking examples themselves.

And the importance of this is only driven home to me by the fact that Scouts Canada is focusing on doing good turns by “Pass on a ‘Good Turn’ Campaign” next week. They’re asking members to do a good turn and pass on red bracelets to the beneficiaries, asking them to pay it forward as well. It’s a great concept that I hope grows and has great stories come out of it.

So maybe when you’re down on yourself, thinking you can’t possibly find the motivation to continue on, think of the little D’s out there that you have passed along knowledge to, that have skills now thanks to the wisdom you’ve imparted on them, and that have learned lessons from the stories you’ve told.

So look in the mirror all you want for change and motivation, but see the world outside of yourself too. You have a huge impact on the people around you, not just on the face that stares back at you every day.

Proof is in the Pants

A standard rule of measurement in weight loss/gain has always been the almighty pound. This has always been both good and bad as the digital devil has been know to drive me completely bonkers at times but also made me do naked happy dances on a Monday morning (thank goodness I keep my curtains firmly shut or my neighbours would be none too pleased. It is the cusp of the gaybourhood, after all…).

But the success and failure of my weight loss efforts have also been measured in my clothes, advice given and received around these parts time and time again.

It has been well documented around here that lycra has been my friend time and time again when my arse decided to expand again and it was how I thought I was hiding the weight gain fairly well. But then I was wearing lululemon to just about EVERY family event, as clearly illustrated by this impromptu family portrait. Granted, the pants have made it easier to consume delicious treats and meals, but really, dimply bums in stretchy pants are not a hot look. Maybe for a soccer mom or for a fit young thing with a hot little booty, but I’m missing the kids and the SUV for the former and the cute little booty for the latter.

But with my 14.5lb loss since January 4th, I’ve noticed that I’m only wearing yoga pants to run in or on my way to the gym.

That’s right, folks – I’m actually stuffing my behind BACK INTO MY JEANS.

And there’s only a bit of a struggle, a small dance to get into them and a smidge of muffin top poking out of the top of them.

Yeah. You know EXACTLY what I’m talking about. Don’t even lie.

I call that success.

I feel comfortable in them. They’re not ripping in the ass like this frightening scene that probably led me to the all-lycra-all-of-the-time, and I feel CONFIDENT, which is all that matters.

The thing is I didn’t even realize the shift until I was getting up from a table the other night and I had to yank my pants up for fear that everyone at the table seated behind could see my pretty pink drawers.

And that’s when it struck me.

So although I love you, stretchy pants, you’ve been relegated back to exercise & lounging wear where you belong.

And I apologize to those people who saw my ass. Again.

The Best Laid Plans of Mice & ...Mice

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