On the Road Again

This is for my sister. Here is a picture of her at her first Olympic triathalon.

I did not realize you were supposed to run along side your bike. I have a lot to learn.

Ode to My Running Shoes and My Darling Nagging Sister

I will not lie

I hate to run

I’d rather sit at Cinnabon

But lazy is as lazy does

So now I’m on the run because

The goal of tri is in my eye

(I thought it was a piece of pie)

But I had fun

On last nights run

I ran a mile

And managed to smile

But not to talk

(Until I walked)

And I am taking it on the road again tomorrow night. I will attempt to run a mile in my neighborhood without being spotted by anyone I know. I don’t want to be that “Oh bless her heart” person.

You know who that is. We’ve all seen her.

You drive by someone struggling to jog, looking like they are just barely moving themselves forward, propelling themselves by sheer will, while looking like they are in excruciating pain. And in your head (or maybe even out loud) you say, “Poor thing, bless her heart”.

I do NOT want to be her.

PS- Photos will most definitely not follow.

My New Best Friend

I wake up in the morning to this face:

Okay, I really wake up next to my husband, but this puppy is on the other side of me. And I am having a problem going from my lovely elliptical, to this:

Actually, where I run looks absolutely nothing like this. If it did I might be more inspired to run outdoors. But quite frankly, I’m not.

Problem is, the motion on the elliptical is really nothing like actual running. Which is ironically, why I bought it.

I refer you to the canned ham post. I swear to gawd the entire thing is the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

Just call me Grace. Not so good on a bike, either.

I never got my drivers license until I graduated from college. Living on and island off NYC it was never necessary. Although, come to think of it, it would have come in handy summers in suburban New Jersey. But whatever.

Since I did not have a license, and hence no car, I rode my bike everywhere. The summer between my freshman and sophomore year at the U of M, I worked three jobs in Summit, NJ. Waitressing, scooping ice cream and subbing as a lifeguard at the town pool. It was on my way to this last job that my back began it’s lifelong task of annoying the ever living you-know-what out of me.

I was riding my bike down the hill toward the pool. This lady in a car, late for a job interview, wasn’t paying attention to what she was doing and turned left in front of me. I hit the back of her car and slid off her trunk. My bike was trashed. I was extremely fortunate not to be seriously hurt. Lucky for me she was on her way to an interview at Overlook Hospital. How convenient. I hitched a ride, was checked out A-Okay in the ER and headed on my merry way.

The next day I woke up and could not move. I rolled out of bed like a huge roll of carpet, landed on my stomach and 20 years of back problems began.

After being told most of my adult life that my weight was the largest contributing factor in my back problems I got in great shape, lost 35 pounds and was exercising every day. Boot camp, weight training, aerobics, you name it.

And, it was in this most fantabulous shape of my life that one afternoon I bent over to pick up a piece of paper from the ground. I didn’t stand up straight for almost 4 days. Okay, I admit, I was bending over to pick up a coupon. Serves me right for trying to save $1.o0 on a box of Special K.

I walked at a 90-degree angle for 4 days before it was determined that I had a bulging disk in my lower back. As a result of trauma. Hmm, and I thought my back problems were caused just because I was fat.

Moving on.

Being terrifically gun shy and not wanting to do anything to re-aggravate my back, we bought an elliptical machine. For it’s no impact. Which I love. Because it’s nothing like running. Which I don’t.

Fast-forward 6 years, and I have had only minor annoyances with my back since that fateful coupon-picking-up incident. And my doctor gave me the go-ahead at my annual physical.

But aside from attending the Merrimack Valley Striders clinics, I have yet to run outside. Needing to get past this jar-my-back-phobia pretty darn quick. It is fall in New England.

Which means snow is just around the corner. I think it’s now or never.

Mishmash

I cannot believe the calendar just flipped to September.  It feels like fall, too.  I need to start running outside before it starts to snow next week. 

Trying another spinning instructor at the Y tomorrow.  I am finding the need to try out every last one of them before I spring for another gym pass at SpinCity.  Although that is where the spinning prince lives.  But not having kissed all the frogs yet, I am not willing to admit inexpensive-all-inclusive-family-membership spinning class defeat just yet.   If not one of them has turned into a prince by the end of this month,  I will be visiting SpinCity again. 

School starts next week. Which means homework starts next week.   And track. And dance. Which means I can kiss my evenings good-bye.   And become very familiar with my alarm clock because to keep training it is going be be ringing my tired *ss out of bed every morning at 5am from now on.  

Next week I am visiting here Nutrition Factory to get some ideas on eating for training health as opposed to eating for weight loss.  Hopefully there will be some good advice on what to eat, when to eat it and how to break past 5 pounds.  Apparently my physician thought that was a more balanced approach than the Flat Belly Diet.

Go figure.

How Fast Can You Run?

I am not a good runner.

My form is awful, I am terribly slow.  I pant.  Groan.  Not a pretty sight.  Right now in my triathalon training, I can run 1 mile. Which I consider quite a feat considering that 7 weeks ago I panted walking up and down the stairs.

But back to running.

How bad is my running?  This bad.

When I was about 14, our dear friend Tom Brennan lived with us on Governors Island.  He was like a big brother to me.

And in true “big brother” fashion, he really knew how to piss me off.

We were playing cards one summer afternoon.  I am quite sure he was cheating.  Probably I thought that because I was losing.  But never mind.   I mean, I am not a sore loser or anything.

Usually.

I am not exactly sure what happened.  I know I threw cards at him.  And he laughed in my face.  Then ran out the door and around the quad where we lived.

So, naturally, I chased him.  Eventually I caught up.  I was in an all out sprint.  He was barely breaking a sweat.  

Then came the huge insult.  He turned around and started running backwards.  I am chasing him like a crazy person, running as fast as I possibly can, and I could not come close to catching him.  Running backwards.  Laughing the whole damn time.

I can only  hope, that like wine,  I will get better with age.

Aren’t You Brendan’s sister?

Old habits die hard.

Smoking. Which I don’t.

Swearing. Which I do.

Competing with your siblings and always wanting to win.  Check.

I spent the weekend in NJ visiting my parents.  They live on a lake, and the kids love swimming, tubing and fishing off the dock.

My sneakers made the trip with me, my resolve being to jog 2 miles once during the weekend.  I brought my bathing suit as well, in case Lucas wanted to go in.  I was really hoping not to have to wear it.

I love water.  Love to swim.  Love pools.  Like the ocean. 

Lakes.  Not so much.

Now I have two awesome brothers.  When we lived on Governors Island, my brother Brendan was like---a social butterfly on steroids.  He knew everyone.  He talked to everyone.   It got to the point where I would meet people at the baseball field,  or at the bowling alley—and they would say to me “Aren’t you Brendan’s sister"?”

“Ummm, no, he’s MY brother”.   What  oldest child wants to be defined by their LITTLE brother?

Yeah, me neither.

So as much as I was not wanting to swim in the lake-of-green-slimy-seaweed, when Brendan asked me to go for a swim I did not refuse.  Mostly because I have not had an open water swim and thought it would be good practice.

But I also knew that he was a good swimmer, would be good motivation and I thought it would be fun. Also, I thought maybe I could keep up with him. 

I pretty much looked at the back of his bald lovely head the whole way, but some things never change.  No matter how old you get, you don’t want to lose to your little brother.  I would pour on the gas for a few yards, chanting in my head “He’s your little brother, don’t let him win” over and over in my head.  

It made no difference.  His head got smaller and smaller in the distance.  And I was okay with that.

Until we got out of the water and he asked his wife if she had gotten pictures.  He wanted one showing how far ahead of me he had finished.

Like I said, old habits die hard.

The All Clear

Today I had a date with this:

And this:

And this:

Yes,  today was the day of my annual scolding  physical. 

When I mentioned to my doctor that I was training for a triathalon, her first look was of horror.   I am also pretty sure she stifled a gasp.

Once she righted herself in her chair, she asked me all the relevant questions.

How much do you exercise?

More than I ever thought I would.

What are you eating?

Too much it appears.

What distances are involved in the race?

600 meters swim,  14 mile bike ride and a 5K run. Or walk. Whatever I can manage.

It was after I answered that last question that she seemed to relax.  Apparently when I said “training for a triathalon” visions of Ironman popped into her head.  Marathon thin, muscle bound runners and olympic-rate athletes competing in grueling fashion.

Considering that, I am surprised she did not laugh me out of her office.

Apparently I am almost the picture of health.

Do you smoke?

Not since….never mind.

Do you do drugs?

Nope,  I’m square like that.

Do you drink alcohol?

Yes.

How much?

One bottle  glass at night.

This is where she told me that alcohol involved empty calories.

And I nodded and smiled that “go to hell” smile that I get when I can tell I am about to get unsolicited advice.   She left it at that.  Which is a good thing.  I earn every single last one of those empty calories and I will spend them as I darn well please.  

So I have been given the all clear.  Good thing since I started this exercise program about 6 weeks ago.  Kind of like closing the barn door after the horse is already out.  Me being the horse.  

I left with a request to come back in 6 months to “chart my progress”.  I think that might be code for “I want to see if you are capable of sticking with this” but that could be the cynic in me talking.

And Now for Something Completely Different

I am a Weight Watchers know-it-all.

I know it all, but I can’t apply it all. Ever.

I am quite sure I could teach an entire class on the ins and outs of point exchanges, the value of water consumption, the conversion of exercise points. Except that when it comes to getting off those last 10 pounds and maintaining goal weight, I fall flat on my face.

Weight Watchers saw me through close to 100 pounds of baby weight. I am pretty sure 50 of those pounds were lost without a drop of sweat.

Just sayin’.

WW has always been a plan I have had success with.

Until now. I am stumped.

When I started working towards my triathalon goal over a month ago, I made a conscious effort to count points. I cut back on alcohol (no easy feat), started drinking tons of water, getting in lots of fiber and veggies. I exercise 5-6 times a week for an average of 40 minutes per workout.

And I have lost 5 pounds. The same 5 pounds I had lost 2 weeks ago. And I must admit I am beginning to get discouraged.

Now, I have never been one for fad diets. Except for one brief flirtation with the Scarsdale diet when I was in high school. But we no longer speak of that. Except in therapy. Suffice it to say the only thing I learned from that escapade was if you want to eat chocolate chip cookies, do it in the closet.

Come to think of it, that explains a lot.

But I digress.

So this journey is certainly not to attain a weight loss goal. But one would think that all this exercise would yield some weight loss benefit. Right???? Not so much. So I am going to try something completely different.

Now, before you go all “Oh no she didn’t” on me (Leigh), it is not the "eat only cabbage one day, only bananas the next" diet. Although that has been utilized by someone in my family who shall remain nameless. Dad. It appears to be a balanced and moderated approach to shaking up your metabolism and eating healthy. And right now I am willing to try something different to see what happens.

I found it here: The Flat Belly Diet.

The book should be here in a few days. Now I am off to chew on bark baby carrots.