Month: April 2013

Keeping On

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Boston.
I don’t understand why anyone ever tries to solve anything with violence. Why that’s ever an answer to anyone- to hurt other people. It’s so ridiculously counterproductive.
I’m just going to say how pleased I am that the media is focusing on ‘the helpers’ this time instead of glorifying the villains. I’m so pleased the heroes praises are being sung. It also makes me glad I’m a runner now- an indomitable runner who won’t be deterred by these asshats and their fear campaign. I didn’t run today or yesterday because of crazy schedules, but I can’t wait to get out tomorrow again.

***
I was commenting to Bradley today about my diet. I’m feeling out of control lately with it. Like I’m eating too much, not exercising enough… When I enter my data into my app everything aligns and falls into place- my calories are spot on and my exercise is solid- but I get caught up on the not losing poundage and it messes with my head.
I also have to say a weird thing. I don’t always trust myself to make good choices. When I was a kid I had a hard time with truth telling- I was impulsive but hated paying the price for my actions so I would hide things, lie, evade my parent’s questions… Not to be too Wonder Years or anything, but it was then I learned that my actual character was in question, not just my actions, and I made myself a promise that I would never lie again. At first that meant brutal honesty (A friend asks: do you like my hair? I honestly would answer, even if I did not like their hair!). There was an adjustment phase where I got mad often because I wasn’t trusted yet, though eventually I think I’ve earned a reputation for being very honest. Over the years, I’ve learned diplomacy and I continue to I adhere to the concept of honesty is the best policy.. But the nagging suspicion remains that I’m a liar. That deep down I’m all ready to spring forth with exercise lies, poor food choices and diet cheats- which is strange, because that is so not me! Being truthful is a concept that I think about a lot.
The point of that loooong story is that I just don’t trust my choices all the time. But I need to. I need to start realizing that I’m a good kid. A good mom. A loving wife. A super smart and nice teacher ;). A well intended person. A good human being. An honest person. And if I’m honest with other people to a fault, why do I think I’m going to lie to myself with stupid cheats? I’m not. I’m so intentional, so careful, so paranoid about all of this that I second guess myself constantly and I can’t feel like that for the rest of my life while I maintain the weightloss. Feeling out of control, like I’m a liar and a cheater, just makes me feel bad. If there’s some new learning I’ve had lately, it’s that I have been eating my feelings all these years. Food soothed my nerves and lifted any bad feelings I had for years, and I’m not letting it do that anymore. So I can’t feel bad about eating calories that I haven’t eaten otherwise I’m going to find myself in the kitchen at 8:00 at night with a handful of chocolate chips and a spoonful of peanut butter!
***
I have PMS again. I hate writing publicly about that stuff, but it is relevant to this project I’m working on- losing weight. For half of the month I’m such a crab AND I can’t lose any pounds! As I was making my action plan for the next few weeks, I found myself telling Bradley that as soon as I get beyond this cycle that I’m gong to hit it hard, maximize the two weeks of non-crabby-energetic-can-actually-lose-poundage time. Then I was thinking, “Seriously? I can lose for just two weeks a month?” That is stupid. I gotta go talk to my doctor to see if there is something that I can do. The thing is, I know this is my pattern. The last time I lost a bunch of weight (6 years ago) the same thing happened. I’d lose right after my cycle started then stall until it played out. If I could somehow fix that I could possibly pick up some more losses. We’ll see.
***
I spent some time talking to this really neat mom who volunteers in my classroom this year. She is on a similar path (she’s much more slender than me but weightloss and fitness are relative- her 20 pounds are every bit of a challenge to her as my 75 pounds are to me- we’re all in this together) and she invited me to an early morning mom’s exercise group. My first reaction was to be all like, “No!” And then to clutch my pearls and take a whiff of my fainting salts to revive my delicate sensibilities. To exercise with other people? Why, I never! I flipped out that I wouldn’t be able to keep up, that I’d look like a fool in front of all the abs of steel moms in midriff tops and spandex booty shorts that do not contain a belly flap formerly inhabited by two infants and lots of fatty deposits… But then I heard my brain spazzing out and stopped the insanity. These are normal women, normal moms. The mom who told me about it is a pretty fly chica. That was fear talking. I’m definitely intrigued. I think I’m gonna give it a go in the very near future.
***
It cracks me up when I sit down to write without anything to say and I turn out a novella.
Goofball.
Yep… That’s me calling myself a goofball.
Welcome to my brain.

Data Collecting

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As a family we have been taking this whole health thing by storm. We are not messing around, people! Daily, you can find the Lj’s out walking, running, playing, riding- whatever. We try to make healthy choices and we are looking at our lifestyle carefully, being very intentional about what we do and what we eat.
Part of what we are doing is tracking ourselves with the Wii Fit. At first, we were so annoyed at the whole body check thing. It feels judgmental and kind of rude as it chides you over your lack of balance, nags you abut not showing up daily for workouts, tells you how frequently other family members work out in comparisons to you, and the worst- announces where you fall on the BMI scale with “That’s Obese!” Being told to me every time I weigh myself. Not exactly big on handling us with kid gloves, let me just say that. However, two things have happened as a result:
We have changed how we talk about fat/overweight/obesity in our house. It used to be that no one could say anything to me about me being fat without reducing me to tears. Jude used to comment quite often on my weight without trying to be mean, but it was hurtful. I was sensitive. I was not happy. It had very little to do with his observations and more to do with my self perception and unhappiness with my unhealthy body. Now we share all of this information, we share our weights, measure ourselves often and we can talk about fat in our house without tears now. Without awkwardness. It opened a dialogue that is very honest, thanks to the cutthroat way the Wii matter of factly tells us we are fat, out of shape and aged beyond our years! (That is not entirely true- my Wii Fit age is usually 35 or below now. Today I am 23!)
The other thing that has happened is the ability for us to track ourselves as we collect data by checking in often on the Wii. While I check in daily, the rest of my family is less consistent. Bradley is checking in almost daily and the kids are about once a week or whenever they feel like it; we don’t push them to do it. We want them healthy – not obsessive. I am wavering between 245-249, gaining and losing half pounds, full pounds or more day by day. I thought it was just me, but it turns out that when we look at our data collectively, we all follow the same patterns- every one of us Lj’s! As I fell and lost to hit my 245, so did my whole family. We all dipped then. Easter came, and we all gained a little. Now we have all, plateaued as we ready for another loss cycle. It was really interesting to see, and I’m excited to continue tracking ourselves to see what happens over longer ranges.

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Fruit Binge

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Lately when I start to have a problem- like, I want to eat a bunch, eat wrong foods, skip working out- instead of giving the universal excuse of being tired, I’m trying to go a little deeper and see what is actually at the root of the craving.
This weekend was tough. Unfortunately, we have a somewhat strained relationship with some of our family members and when our kids head out for a weekend away with them it causes me a bit of anxiety. When I have anxiety I look to distract myself. Apparently my main form of distraction is food. Add to that the return of PMS (really?! So soon?!) and lets just say it was a weekend to fight through.
I wanted to eat. So when I looked deeper, I realized I wanted to eat my anxiety away. I wanted to not be in control. I wanted to not think about every little thing that went into my mouth. I wanted to just sit back, relax, and wash all worry and over-thinking from my brain. While on a diet, that is almost impossible as you’re adding up each calorie and fat gram before it even passes over your teeth… On Friday I did that with garbage food- chips & candy.
Today I was getting frantic on the way home as I realized it was happening again- I could feel it coming. I knew when I got home the chips and salsa (which I don’t even like that much) would call out to me even though I knew they would make me sick. So I had Bradley preemptively stop and spend a whole bunch of money on watermelon, strawberries, grapes, mango, cantaloupe, pineapple and any other fruit that looked or sounded even near to yummy. I came home and prepped everything, stacked it on a plate and went to town. It was fabulous. My stomach was full and I got to nosh and nom to my heart’s content, but I didn’t feel sick and I didn’t feel guilty. Phew!
*

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Gross. Guh-ross!

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Tonight my kids are gone, spending night with their grandpa. Bradley and I are alone in the house, rattling around… Looking for something to do. We made dinner, went in the hot tub, and ate. I ate a BLT (fake bacon, naturally), a bag of pop chips, and tried to call it good. Except… It wasn’t good. I wanted something more. So, I decided to let myself have it. “It” being whatever I wanted to put in my mouth. I wanted chips and salsa. In the belly. Reese’s peanut butter cup. Nom nom nom. And it was if the Teddy Grahams just danced down my throat to some old Grateful Dead tunes. It was all very peaceful and fun and I enjoyed letting myself eat food. I haven’t eaten off my plan, really, since New Years. I’ve been very good for over four months.
(All totaled, I had two servings of tortilla chips, two of salsa, the equivalent of two-three Reese’s peanut butter cups and a handful of teddy Grahams. It could have been MUCH worse. It also could have been much better though, I know.)
Cut to two hours later. Gross. GROSS! GUH-ROSS! That’s how my belly feels now. Gross gross gross. I don’t miss junk food as much as I assumed I would. Turns out? All that junk makes me feel sick.

Clothes

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My clothes don’t fit anymore. I like getting dressed. Scratch that. I LOVE getting dressed in the morning. In fact, I love it so much that I spend an hour or more every Sunday putting together outfits for my week… Mixing… Matching… Accessorizing… Sigh… That way I can roll outta bed at 7:15, roll out the door by 7:45 and still look cute – or, at the very least, feeling cute. That is how it seemed to go so far.
Then this week happened. It is both a blessing and a curse. Blessing because I have external evidence that this is happening peeps. I’m getting smaller. Things are changing! Curse because my closet is shrinking by the day. It is only Wednesday and I’ve already thrown five articles of clothing (three shirts, two skirts) into the too big for Tamara pile. These are things I thought still fit me and planned to wear this week, but when I put them on it looked like I was wearing sails or something! So my time saver has been a big tricker this week, making me create three last minute outfits at 7:35 when I still needed to put my make up on and do my hair! (I wore braids today, that was my level of lateness.)
Ah well. Could be worse. I could be digging my bigger clothes out of storage instead of needing to buy smaller ones. I’m finally at a point that I don’t have any more goal clothes. I fit all of the “tiny” things I have bought over the years. I’m not that impressed with my spoils, truth be told. My style has changed some. Things fit different than I expected.
Guess it’s time to buy a few things. Awwww shucks.
***
Funny note- I almost forgot to write this next part. That shows me how normalized this whole exercise thing is becoming….
I went out and ran a mile today and walked another .7. Finally, my tracker went untouched and unbumped and I got a decent read on my mile. I ran it in 11:35. I’m pleased with that. There is definitely room for improvement, but I’m forgiving myself for feeling a little sore and tuckered today. I think I’m going to take this weekend off from exercise to get another good rest/heal in. I’m starting to feel battered.
I tied a ribbon from Martha to my wrist today in place of the heavy retractable leash. It seemed to work fine. She is such a good girl and I know she is fine off leash, but as a person who is scared of big dogs, I hate to make other people uncomfortable so I keep her tied up. I love having her as my running mate. It’s nice to have her there to ‘motivate’ up the hills and to the next goal. “C’mon Martha! Keep it going! Atta girl! Good puppy.” I’m not sure who needs to hear those words more, her or me.

Muzak

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It seems like when one thing gets figured out and taken care of, something else pops up and needs assistance. Take my hips. Pretty much all better. But oh my goodness if they didn’t consternate me and worry me and I thought I was going to have to stop running for good! I figured that out- rest day is very important. VERY. IMPORTANT.
Now I have a new thing. It started with this tiny little twingy feeling at the base of my skull, and it connects to just under my shoulder blade. It has grown into this tight OWIE! feeling now. It is only on my right side and gets worse after I run. After speaking with my runner pals (tee-hee- I’m in that club! Bwa ha ha! BiZaRrE!) it was concluded that I am too tense up top and need to loosen up, rely on my core muscles, not shoulders, to support me more (there’s the ‘core’ again!). As to why it’s only on the right side? That’s the side I hold Martha’s leash on. Now I need to problem solve this…
***
Today I rode my stationary cycle for 30 minutes. I checked my heart rate several times and was surprised to find myself sitting right between 120-126- perfect fat burning pace! The noteworthy part is that in the past, fat burning and lung burning went hand in hand. These days if my lungs are burning I need to slow down and rest. Good lesson.
***
I listened to this on my bike today. What can I say- it gets me moving!

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(Mock me all you want. I don’t care.)

Mile Two

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Today I headed out after work determined to put some miles (yes, you real that plural correctly) under my shoes. I did. I ran most of my walk (I suppose when you only walk about half a mile you can start calling it a run instead without inflating anything, right?), covering 2.8 miles in about 34 minutes. I say about because inevitably every time I try to get a good mileage read I touch the screen on my phone just right and it messes something up. Today I accidentally paused the tracker for a quarter mile that I ran right at the beginning with my best pacing. Grrr. But really, what does it matter? It DOESN’T! That said, it’s still fun to have an accurate read of what I’m doing. Technology.
I’m at this weird kind of point with my running. What next? I have realized it’s a mind over matter thing and once you get the endurance and lung burn out of the way, you’re left wondering how fast you should add mileage. I kind of asked around today to the folks who I know who run and they all just said listen to your body. Do what feels good and right. Add enough. And above all- listen to your body. After my hip scare I definitely am paying attention to that part, and it does deserve repeating for me. When I’m out there and I see the next goal (I can make it to the next corner, then stop) and then I hit that goal, take stock of my body and realize I feel the same as I did when I made the goal, I have a tendency to tell my brain to shut up and I keep going. Even if my legs are getting wobbly and my hips are getting achy.
The coolest thing was coming home from that run and entering the data into my livestrong account. It said I burned 860 something calories. I told Bradley and we were both doubtful. So then I went to this cool calorie burn calculator place online and it said that I burned over 1100 calories! Love working out at this weight. It is so gratifying! LOL!

1.75

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Here’s the great thing about having lived a life in fear of physical activity- I was afraid of so much that I have lots of celebrations and milestones that are all kind of piling up now! My body is chock full of opportunities to show me how efficiently it really can work! Add losing weight to that and I feel like I’m crowing about some new accomplishment or milestone every other day! It feels good, though.
Today I have another milestone. I ran 1.75 miles WITHOUT STOPPING! My average mph was a bit over ten (I’m terrible with the math for some reason) per mile and my total run time was 17:03 minutes. A bit over 10 minute mile? Amazeballs! So taking long strides made a huge difference! I remember not so long ago when I ran for 12 straight minutes and made it about half a mile. That was barely a month ago! I still look at that as such a ginormous accomplishment. Running 17 minutes straight and making 1.75 miles is unfathomable. But, I just did it, so I guess not.
(If you read this an hour or two ago, I had all kinds of wrong numbers in here. I tried doing the math for what my mph was WHILE running up the hill trying to distract myself. I got two steps into my equations, couldn’t process and just thought oh! I guess I ran this much this fast BUT I LEFT OFF A QUARTER MILE! Silly ole me.)
***
Motivation
When Gigi was a baby I had this horrible dream one night. I was at the Bellingham Bellis Fair Mall over by the Red Robin (for those not in the know, it is a huge parking area that is rarely occupied, so there is lots of free space) and my car wouldn’t start. Of course, it’s the middle of the night in the dream, the mall is closed and no one is around. Gigi was just a baby in the dream too and all of the sudden this guy rides up in a motorcycle with a milk crate tied on the back with bungee cords. He grabs Gigi and I manage to barely get up as he’s stepping away from me with her. He’s mocking me as he backs slowly up to his motorcycle, drops Gigi in the crate and tries to start the cycle. I know that if I run I can catch him, I start running awkwardly, my knees hurt, my muscles burn, I’m almost there. His bike fails and I keep running, but I get so exhausted and I’m so out of practice with any kind of physical activity that my muscles are just apathetic. Tired, failing, I lose my balance and barely brush the edge of her sweater with my fingertips as he rides away, her little dark eyes staring back at me through the darkness. I try to run, but know it’s pointless. And there I am, completely helpless to save her, crying, wondering if I will ever see her again, what will happen to her, to our family, how I will explain this to everyone, and how I am going to live with this for the rest of my life? In the dream I knew that if I had been more physically fit that I wouldn’t have watched her ride away. I could have saved her. If only I could run. Even a little.
Determination
Today I joke that if the movie Zombieland were accurate, while I wouldn’t be the fastest of the runners to get away, I wouldn’t be the slowest either. I would have a chance, however small, because I do cardio and I can run a mile, now a mile and a half, without stopping. While a mile isn’t very far if zombies are coming, I also know that over time my endurance would pick up, that I would get faster, that my body is capable. It’s showing me that right now. I don’t need to succumb to the zombies, to give up. And while I’m being kind of silly about the zombies, I’m dead serious about being so happy to have yet one more tool that can help to take care of my kids. No man is gonna throw my baby into a milk crate! And if he tries, he will feel the wrath of Tam-RAH!
***
I have to humbly acknowledge that I am amassing a small readership (small because how can that many people be this awesome, amiright?!). I want to say welcome and thank you for coming. I welcome your presence, your feedback, your questions and comments!

A Moment

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Capturing the moment of 246…

If you would like to compare/contrast, here is me at my start (330-340, unsure), during (about 270) and this week during (246). I’m noticing small changes in the second to third photos – only a 24 pound difference. My thighs look a little smaller, but the major difference is I’m not as thick/deep anymore. My shape in my abdomen looks pretty much the same, just a lot less round!

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I think it is funny that I have such weird hair in all three of these- two wigs an one odd pony/bun!!

Mile in the Hood

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I watched the sky today. I watched the clouds gather, the sun peek through, the drops fall little by little. By the time I headed out to pick up my daughter from school I needed an umbrella. Rain. RAIN. Have I mentioned how much I love running in the rain??

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My husband sneaked this picture of me from his office window as I took off. One time around my block is exactly a mile, stepping from my driveway and back to it. It makes for some pretty simple measurement. So off I flew around the block, looking to endure, to train for my rad race.

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I made the entire mile without stopping in 11:15. I sat down on my porch, heaved steam into the rainy air, then headed back out for another mile. That one I ran about halfway before I decided that I didn’t want to be stupid and earn another injury. But 11:15? Yes, it is slow still, but those kinds of numbers are just a small shift away from running a 30 minute 5K.
Funny thing about that though, I’m getting faster. Without trying, my body is leaning into the run, picking up the pace. Today I practiced lengthening my stride. I felt like the BFG as I gal-umpfed my long-legged strides down the street. I am learning that speed doesn’t necessarily mean taking more steps faster, for me it might just mean instilling the habit of taking longer steps. My 5’9″ height should give me a bit of an advantage there.
***
I don’t have a specific method of telling my readership about weight goals made, but this morning I had a significant and emotional shift.
I hopped on the scale just like I do every morning after I pee. The numbers flickered between 240 to 252. it stopped. Then I hopped off. That couldn’t be right. Then I hopped back on. No way. I weighed 250 last night. I didn’t pee that much! And off again, a shift of the scale, then on again. I whispered to my still-sleeping husband, “I weigh 246 this morning.” For some reason that number has weight and significance to me. Before I got too noisy, I rushed into my closet and closed it before I started sobbing. Someone I know hit 245 not so long ago and I was like, wow. She looks tiny. Delicate. Petite, almost, compared to the heavier version of herself. I was amazed. So to be at this point that I admired so deeply in this woman I respect so much seems overwhelming in a way. Don’t worry. I dried my tears and stopped my sobs in no time and was able to move on with my morning. But yeah, 246. Big fat deal. Seriously.