Apr 7: Slow and starving wins the weigh-in

Well hello there, waist-wasters!

How’s everything going? I mean seriously. Would it kill you to call? The only person I hear from anymore is my friggin cat, and she just comes on here to post links to bizarre non sequitur youtubes. (Which are awesome.)

Alright, I’m done begging. So, I had an excellent week on the scales: lost 2.2 pounds this week. That’s like, a month’s worth of work at my current rate of progress. Guess I can just rest on my laurels for the rest of April now.

The thing is, I weighed myself on my wretched home scale yesterday morning and was utterly deflated to see that my weight had gone up this week. UP! I mean, okay, I said I was going to run (yog) 3-4 times this week and I only ended up going twice. But those times I went, I really gave’r, and I watched my fucking points (sorry mom) and there’s just no reason why I should have gained weight. And okay, if this were a blip, a one-time thing, I could perhaps be a little more relaxed and a little less italicized, but MY BODY WILL NOT LET GO OF THE FAT.

So, I was pissed. I decided desperate measures were called for: I dressed in my least weighty outfit (a t-shirt and my featherweight skirt), which is a pain in the arse when I walk to work because it’s so light that it rides up my thighs and I’m constantly pulling it down self-consciously. I could have taken the subway but I was looking to make up extra activity wherever I could. At work, I decided to forego any food or drink until post-weigh-in. I know, I know. It’s stupid, to put so much stock in a number that you have to use artificial means to manipulate. What can I say. I was desperate for good news, or at least not bad news.

So all morning I was sluggish and depressed. Anticipating another shitty result, plus no caffeine, plus I’m getting tired of the project I’ve been managing at work for six months. So noon comes round and I trudge off to the DubDub meeting with L-Mac², confessing my silly antics to her, which she laughed about in a very supportive and understanding fashion. Get on the scale and… WHAT THE! Down 2.2 pounds?! Wow. Who knew breakfast and a DDP weighs 2 pounds? (The other .2 was obviously taken care of with my nearly-naked wardrobe stylings, plus a half hour walk to work, I’m sure.)

Okay, as the warlocks say, "duh", this is obviously not a result based on skipping breakfast. I’m saying, my scale, she done me wrong. Maybe I shaved an extra half pound off with my morning neuroses, possibly a pound. Whatever, I’ll take it. Of course this introduces next week’s big dilemma: do I repeat this ridiculousness to ensure an accurate measurement from one week to the next? Or do I grow up and stop pulling stupid desperate acts of starvation and crankiness towards my co-workers and the world in general?

Wow, what a cliffhanger. For sure you’ll be tuning in next week to find out.

Jan 24: Hello Monday

Greetings, pork belly futures, or should I say soon-to-be-pasts,

How was the weekend? I am pleased to report that I ran (okay, yogged) 3 miles on Saturday and 2 miles on Sunday. I did 3 and 1's (run 3 mins; walk 1), which helped considerably. The last time I got on the treadmill was a couple weeks ago, when I first started back on the straight but not narrow lifestyle, and after 10 minutes (no walkies), my asthma was such that I could not continue. Instead I increased the incline and walked for 20 more minutes. It was hard not to feel dejected, but I soldiered on.

Over the past two weeks, I've gone to the gym on average twice a week, and done an hour of cardio each time. Mindful of my wheezing, tubnacious stature, I didn't push myself to go too, too hard. Relied on my trusty heart rate monitor to assuage any guilty concerns I wasn't pushing myself hard enough. When your watch is beeping like a neglected car alarm for your entire workout, you take it as a sign that it's okay to do the elliptical at level 3 instead of your customary level 6. Anyway, all this to say, my cardio endurance or capacity or whatever is definitely improving, which is a very good feeling indeed. I have big plans to increase my gym attendance this week to 3 times a week, plus runs on the shitty warped treadmill in my building that gives me massive static shocks from the dry weather.

Eating has also been awesome. I even went out on Friday night with the Miaouw and managed to get mildly sloshed, have dinner, and only use 2 of my flex points. I drank white wine and ate a salad with salmon and dressing primly on the side. Excellent work. Also braved the insanely cold weather yesterday (although I did not go so far as to run an 8k race like my rockin friend The Torq - photos on Facebook looked like she was doing a deep sea dive in all the head-to-toe gear she was wearing) to go to the grocery store and stock up on low-point treats to stave off any pending feelings of deprivation. My freezer runneth over.

So overall I am feeling PDG (pretty damn good). Just wanted you all to know that. Anybody out there need me to tell them how damn good they are? I am more than happy to do so.

x's and o's for all y'all!

Mar 16: Yogging

Hello smatterings!

-- Shout out to non-clickers. Where were you yesterday?! You totally missed the Freudian self-diagnosis and admission of latent pomoherotic lovemaking with my digitus primus! Well, I left it up for you just in case.

So, yogging! Tonight after work I am running with the Ladies of the Cancer. I believe I may have mentioned that a group of us are going to train twice a week (Tuesdays and Thursdays) after work, in preparation for the Sporting Life 10k on May 2. Last Thursday I went out with them for the first time - we ran 2 miles, and it was humiliating, yo's.

Normally when I run on the treadmill, I go for around 10-12 minutes before taking a walking break. I start fairly slowly, then gradually increase my speed - every minute, I ratchet the speed up by a tenth of a mile (goes to counting obsession, Your Honour). I usually do this until I'm running at around 5 to 5.5 mph. So in point of fact, all this time I've been talking about "running", when really, as Ron Burgundy would say, "I believe it's jogging or yogging. It might be a soft j."

But these ladies, these... Sasha Fiercies... well, they actually do run. After we'd been out there five minutes and forty seconds, I glanced at my watch (so as to properly call the time of death). Oy. I was ready for a walking break but we'd only run half the time I normally run before taking a break. I pushed through to 9 minutes and then walked for a minute. We had planned to do 10 and 1s, i.e. run 10 minutes, walk 1. I normally run 12, walk 2. Maybe that's bad form. Well, I finished the run - did it in 25 minutes. Actually, that's about average for me, when I have been running 3 miles in 37-38 minutes. The next day I ran 4 and 1s at 5.5 mph at the gym, and did 2 miles in 24 minutes, so that seemed like progress

Tonight's run is slated to be 2.5 miles. One of the ladies suggested we do 5 and 1s. I am nervous that I will underperform again. But the ladies are all very encouraging and the main thing is, we are all out there gettin 'er done.

But, yeah. I feel fraudulent calling myself a runner. From now on, I am a yogger, and proud of it.