Aug 16: Operation GOMA

Well hello there, patrons of the arse!

As you may have ascertained, I've had a tumultuous, on-again off-again relationship with running. Yes, I have completed the Sporting Life 10k run three times. But almost all of my training for the event in the past has been indoors, on a treadmill. I have gotten to a point of being pretty comfortable running on a treadmill, for an hour with only a few walking breaks [disclaimer: nowhere near that level of fitness at present]. But I have never been comfortable running outside. I get wheezy and asthmatic and zooming heart rate within 4-5 minutes, and the whole thing is pain and un-fun. I want to run next year's 10k in personal best time, and not have to walk more than I run in the last 5k. I know I need to learn how to run outside if I want to achieve that goal.

So around a month and a half ago, I purchased the C25K mobile app for my iPod Touch. For those not in the know, C25K stands for "couch to 5km run". This is a 9 week program that's meant to guide green couch afficionados from zero movement to running 30 minutes or 5 kilometres continuously. The idea is to gradually increase the amount of time spent running between walking breaks. You commit to going out three times a week for just a half an hour.

In week 1, you're out for 31 minutes: a five minute brisk walk warm up (not even running!) followed by 21 minutes of running for 1 minute, walking for 90 seconds, and then another five minute walk at the end to cool down. I mean, you get to walk for longer than you have to run! Soooooold!

The mobile app makes it super easy. You create a playlist (one thing I dislike; cannot just import a playlist from iTunes - you have to add each song to your playlist from within the app, one at a time) and press go. A little bell rings and a man or woman's voice tells you every time you have to switch from walking to running. The clock counts down for you how much longer you have to go before you switch. Your music plays throughout. You just do what you're told and before you know it the half hour is up. Easy!

So what's the deal with buying the app six weeks ago and not doing anything with it? Erm, well? Yeah, that.

Anyway, I've been really inspired by my girl Dylan, who's been doing the C25K for about 2 months now. In fact it was her regular postings to her Facebook page, every time she completed one of the runs, that got me thinking I should look into this. And it's really amazing to hear from her that she's running for half an hour at a time now. Wow!

Also truly inspiring is the progress made by the ever-awesome L-Mac2, who completed the Acura 10 mile [16k] run on Sunday, and is planning to run her first ever half marathon in October. Holy shiza! These women! Are fantastic! And they are inspiring me every day to Git. Off. Mah. Ass.

Yesterday I decided I would do it. And I realized I needed to hold myself to it by creating a threat of pain and consequences for myself if I didn't follow through, or ultimate triumph if when I do. So I signed up for the Toronto Women's 5k run in Sunnybrook Park on October 29. No turning back!

I completed Week 1, Day 1 of the C25K program last night to celebrate.

Aug 10: BOOBS!

Oy. OY! Back off you salivating, stampeding horde! Disgusting.

Yes, today's topic is boobs. Breasts, for the purists. I've had 'em for 30 years and still feel weird referring to them by their Christian name. (Same way I always feel a little fraudulent calling myself a "woman", despite all the empowerment slogans out there, or more likely because of them.)

Well anyway, mine are boobs. I mentioned last blog that I think of mine disparagingly (the term was "fucking huge"), which caught the eye of a couple of friendly commenters. From the anything-but-typical lone wolf came the fairly typical response of "hey, what's to complain about?" And you know, far be it from me to complain about stuff. But okay, twist my arm. Except please don't because the resulting back-arching will only make them stick out more.

I have never liked my boobs. Not when they were little knobs sprouting up from the smooth planarity of my youthful chest, not a couple years later when, shopping for a grade 8 graduation dress, they bulged out of all corners of my no-longer-sufficient bra, leading my mother to astutely observe that it was time for a new bra. Not in my teenage years, when you would think if your boobs are ever gonna sit up straight on their own, this would be the time. (Alas, no.)

They are too big. They are quite heavy. The shape is not so much spherical as oval. They make buttoned blouses difficult to wear without the unsightly gaping business. But you know, as my nephew might say (if he weren't too horrified to be talking about my boobs with me... which, come to think of it, I would be too horrified to talk to him about too) - "That's a first world problem." I always thought if I was ever going to get plastic surgery, it would be a breast reduction and lift. But then I get horrified with myself for slipping into first world vanity contemplations.

So what's the deal with boobs anyway? Why are guys so into them? Is it because they (in most cases) don't have their own? (This raises the question: how do lesbians feel about boobs?) I mean, what if adam's apples were suddenly fetishized everywhere in popular culture? Or the fashion industry started designing pants for men that revealed just a hint of scrotum? I think I speak for most when I say, ew. Both of these body parts are fairly unattractive, and I'm fine with the fact I don't, as a woman, have either. Even the really good looking scrotums (scroti?) are quite wrinkly. Can you imagine if guys started getting laryngeal implants to make their neck bobbles protrude even more? Would adolescent boys be hyper-sexualized in the media?

Okay, I don't know where I'm going with any of this. A'ight I'm Audi 5000.

PS I got weighed today: maintained. This is good news because last Thursday I ate about 6 pieces of cake at work and then instead of doing penance that night, ordered a bucket of KFC as a cake chaser. It was awesome.

Aug 8: The long haul

Greetings, summer funsters!

So it's been awhile. If you've been following along, this would be the point at which you'd expect some sort of sheepish, mumbling, kicking at the ground admission of wagon abandonment, with the accompanying ass-cushion that a three month hiatus from healthy living always brings. Well, ta-da! Not happening.

Yeah, I kinda stopped blogging for awhile there. I was starting to feel like the only purpose of writing was to give a weekly update from my weigh-in. What happened to all my high-brow pretensions of using this blog to examine food and body issues, eating in awareness, the zen of sweat, and the use of affirmation post-it notes to achieve self-actualization? [Seriously, last year for Christmas, my mom got me this book called Operation Beautiful that prescribes leaving notes for yourself on every mirror that insist you are beautiful, regardless of what the mirror has to say about it.]

Well anyway, I've now lost 28 pounds. It's a slow process, but I feel like, after six plus months of living this way, it's become a routine. At this point, I am closing in on the mark (around 150) that has been some sort of psychological barrier for me in the 2.5 years since I started writing this blog. It's not like I've never been below that level, but in recent years, attempts to shed the extra weight have stalled at around this point. So, even though it feels like a massive accomplishment to say, with as much casual indifference as my limited acting skills can convey, that I've lost close to 30 pounds, I don't actually feel like I look all that different. I'm not into clothes that have hung faithfully in the closet, waiting for their chance to impress the world with their cuteness. I am still struggling with my self image. I'll be walking outside and catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror and feel dismay rather than pride. Why are my boobs still so fucking huge? I know it's just about patience and hanging in for the long haul.

Glad to still be at it, though. And I'm feeling pretty optimistic about my future chances of looking cute again.