Viva la Tinga!

Mexican food is delicious. I probably don't need to tell you this.

Just to be clear ... I'm not talking that Chi Chi's Fake Mexican via America/Tex Mex stuff like chimichangas, mind you. (While I like that, too, that's not the stuff to which I am referring.)

I'm talking real Mexican, made by Mexican Grandmas. The Abuelita I hold in highest esteem is my sister's mother-in-law, Margarita Nava. She's playing an important role in the Rose Bowl party we're having tomorrow. And I'm willing to bet she would be surprised to know that, considering she's probably totally unaware of what the Rose Bowl is.

So, we're mixing a little American and Mexican in a taco bar/buffet. Serve-yourself-easy and make-your-own-delicious. Choose your meat, choose your fixings, choose your delivery vehicle (corn tortilla, flour tortilla, whole wheat tortilla, baked chips, regular chips, tostadas ... you get the idea) and chow down.

To go with the standard Tex-Mex ground beef with taco seasoning and shredded orange cheese, I've also got a secrete weapon that's lean and flavorful and makes my mouth water.

The Nava's Tinga!!!!!!!! (Abuelita's recipe as told to Juan Carlos.)

Tinga
2-4 chicken breasts on the bone
1 white onion, sliced
1 can chipotle in adobo
2 Roma tomatoes, chopped
Salt and pepper

Put chicken breasts in soup pot, cover with water, add sliced onions, salt and pepper and bring to boil, reduce to simmer. Cook chicken until done; save cooking liquid. Pick chicken off bone and return meat to big skillet or soup pot with onions. In a blender, puree one or two chipotle peppers with a spoonful or two of the sauce. To chicken, add enough of the cooking liquid to make it a little wet. Add the chipotle puree a little at a time, tasting as you go. NOTE: The chipotle is HOT. Start slow and increase to your taste, making it as spicy as you like it. Add chopped tomato and salt and pepper to taste. The longer it stews, the better it tastes.

(I often make this with boneless, skinless breasts. I just substitute a can of chicken stock for the juice. If I don't have a tomato on hand, I will use a can of diced fire-roasted tomatoes.)

Traditional way to serve: In the Mexican section of the grocery store, buy a package of tostadas. (Fried corn tortilla ... like a big Tostitos chip). Spread a little crema (Mexican sour cream) on the tostada. Then add the tinga. Sprinkle with queso fresco (Mexican crumbly white cheese like a mild Feta), diced white onion and chopped cilantro. Squeeze some lime on the top if you want to be crazy. But of course it's good in taco salad, in a whole wheat tortilla burrito, on my left arm, from a shoe, etc.

Turn It Up!

I have this week off from work. Which means I have plenty of time in the morning to get my workout completed.

But I'm starting to get bored with my routine: Roll out of bed, run a brush through my Medusa locks, slide on a headband, pull on some workout clothes, pee the dog, hit the stairs for the basement, stretch, and walk ... for three, four or five miles at a 3.9 mph pace.

Yawn. Same thing, day in, day out.

So yesterday, it occured to me I could do something different.

I wanted to run. I REALLY wanted to run. I even did for about 10 steps. And then I got freaked out and stopped. While my knee is feeling much better, it still doesn't work properly. (You would have laughed had you seen me stutter-stepping in the front of church on Christmas Eve as I tried to figure out how to kneel for communion. Kneeling isn't one of my best skills since "the incident." Jim occasionally catches me doing butt lifts on the floor in the bedroom and the maneuver I use to get back on my feet cracks him right up.)

So in spite of my desire to run, I thought it best to not ... better to walk for 10 more years than to run and risk blowing my knee up the rest of the way and be sidelined again, right?

So I just turned up the speed. Not a lot. Went up to 4.2 and did it for a half mile. (I'm also on a 3 incline, BTW.)

Then I slowed down and walked at regular pace for a quarter mile. And fired it back up to 4.2 again.

I forgot how much fun it was to do the intervals. Up and down. Up and down. Challenging myself to go farther faster. I sweat more. The scale showed positive results. And my brain was entertained.

Duh. Not sure why this didn't occur to me last week. I'm already looking forward to tomorrow. I hit 4.3 for a half-mile today and didn't fall on my butt. Maybe I can do 4.4?

Unexpected Benefit of Being Thinner #4

It's much easier to buckle your seat belt.

I no longer have to scootch my butt over in my seat to find the receiver end.

Size Doesn't Matter

I spent part of my day today trying on dresses and swimming suits. The idea was to 1) get some extra walking in and 2) sort of get started on vaca planning.

Here's what I learned:

It doesn't matter what size you are, you still look like hell in a fitting room mirror when trying on swimming suits.

I'm not sure what I was thinking, but I really believed trying on swimming suits would be FUN this year. Boy, was I wrong.

All I could see was the stuff I didn't like. Blobs of skin here. Lumps and bumps there. Sure, the blobs and lumps and bumps were DIFFERENT from the ones that were there last year. But they were still all I could see.

How irritating. And what a number that blasted reflection can do on your head.

Really? I worked so hard for so long and I still look this bad? What will it take to get where I like what I see? If I feel the same now as I did a year ago, what was the whole point? How do I get my head to catch up with my body?

But I learned something, too. There is no such thing as perfect. If I felt this way before and I feel this way now, 80 pounds later, I'm guessing most women feel the same way about their own bodies, no matter how big or small.

You are not alone.

Talkin' Turkey

New recipe for ground turkey. And it's good! But you have to start the night before.

Turkey Chili
1 pkg. ground turkey, browned with some onions
1 packet of TexMex Chili seasoning mix
2 cups dry mixed beans
1 tsp cumin
1 tsp chili powder
2 Tbsp dry onion flakes
2 cans fire roasted diced tomatoes
Salt and pepper to taste

Day before you want to eat it: Place 2 cups of dried beans and 8 cups of water in a mixing bowl. Let them soak over night. In the morning, drain off soaking water and place beans, 6 cups water and cumin, chili powder, onion flakes and some salt/pepper in the crock pot. Set on low and let the beans cook all day.

When you get home from work, drain water from cooked beans and brown off the turkey with some chopped onion. Mix the packet of dry seasoning with the turkey. Add turkey to beans and dump in two cans of tomatoes into crockpot (or mix the whole thing in a kettle on the stovetop). Heath through. Adjust seasoning to taste.

And if you don't want to go to all the trouble of the dry beans, use canned beans! Just drain/rinse off all the salty liquid first. You could also add a can of corn. Or some jalapenos. Serve with nice wheat rolls. (Though cornbread would be good, too, just not as good for you.) And a little light sour cream and sprinkle of reduced fat cheese.

Bad News, Good News, Bad News

Bad News: Stepped on the scale this morning before working out and I had "gained" yet another pound ... making the holiday 3-day total (sing it with me like Golden Rings) "FIVE Extra Pounds."

Good News: After pushing through a truly punishing five miles on the treadmill with a tight chest and barking cough, I weighed in again and was back down to only two pounds over last week's total. You and I both know I have some issues with my scale going on here and water weight, but the numbers affect how I feel about myself, so they're important. I can live with a two pound swing.

Bad News: Home computer has been invaded by viruses and other bad things. Not sure what to do about that. Posts might be more sporadic until I get it fixed.

Oh, Sugar.

Sugar wasn't the word I really wanted to use there. The one I wanted starts with an SH sound, but is shorter, ruder and much more forceful. You get the idea.

I wasn't going to post today. It's Christmas. You have other things to do and so do I. But I thought this might be helpful.

I didn't work out this morning. Still feeling like crap, and it's Christmas. I also ate like a raving lunatic yesterday: ham, mashed potatoes and gravy, corn, raw shrimp, buckets of Chex mix, an Xmas cookie, three glasses of wine, four or five cans of diet soda, cheese, those delicious ham/cream cheese/pickle roll-ups ... and that was AFTER church. Again, you get the idea.

So out of curiosity and fear, I stepped on the scale this morning after telling myself I wouldn't.

I "gained" four pounds.

Since yesterday morning.

Now, I know I ate a lot. But I didn't consume four pounds of food in total, let alone create four pounds of flesh from that food since yesterday.

I know the number is a reflection of the salty foods helping me hold onto some water. I know the number is surely linked to the sheer number of carbs I consumed (they seem to affect me worse than eating lots of other food groups). I know the number is absolutely a reflection of eating too much or out of the ordinary the day before and yesterday.

No matter what I attribute it to, the number was still shocking, disheartening and a little scary.

That little bit of fear creeps up in my chest and my head starts racing ... is this it? Is it all over? Have I wrecked it all and in two weeks I'll be back in those size 20 jeans?

So I start talking to myself. And to Jim. This is OK. I didn't gain four pounds in a day any more than I can lose four pounds in a day. It's a marathon, not a race. I'm going to go up and down a little. It's Christmas and my jeans still fit. I can do better today and tomorrow and will probably have to button down a little.

I CAN button down. And will. This will be OK because I'm tough and determined and I haven't come all this way to give up now. I've worked out every day for the past month so that I can take today off.

And take today off I will. Because today is Mexican food at Karla's and I'm going to enjoy it.

In moderation, of course.

Merry Christmas ...

Wishing you and yours a warm, wonderful and wish-come-true Christmas. Eat a cookie or two and don't worry. We'll all get back on the horse in a day or so.

Fighting Through

I really felt like crap last night when I went to bed. I was firmly convinced I'd wake up this morning feeling the same and it would be a great reason to not work out.

Woke up. Just laid there. Hoping, I think, for some major coughing or nausea.

Nothing.

Yeah, my throat still hurts. I'm coughing a tiny bit. My nose is still running a little. My chest feels a little tight. But nothing too serious.

So I put my workout gear on and went downstairs to hop on my treadmill. I walked extra ... five total miles ... because I knew that I was going out for lunch and drinks today. I even added a few punch-while-I-walk moves to pick up my heart rate and did four bench press sets of 12 reps.

I still don't feel great. But I feel great knowing I'm not letting the holidays or a cold get in the way of my goal.

Feed a Cold AND a Fever?

I think I'm coming down with something. My throat is sore, my head is fuzzy, my nose is running.

And I'm starving.

Why is it that I never get the kind of sick that takes away your appetite?

Jim's been coughing and hacking for more than a week. I knew it was just a matter of time. But I was hoping my new "healthy attitude" would protect me from those little bugs.

Guess not.

So I'm going to eat a grapefruit in an effort to ward off any additional little bugs that are thinking of taking up residence.

Dedication

On my way to work some mornings, I drive past a man walking on the side of the road toward the little town I live near.

Now, when I say little town, I mean little town. There is one church, two bars, a post office, an automotive repair shop, a general store and a coffee house. All on one street.

The man is older, around 60, I'd guess. Gray hair, heavy-rimmed glasses, big gray mustache and overall disheveled look. When it's cold, he wears one of those pouffy parkas with a fur-trimmed hood.

He walks against traffic, heading into town, and always nods at me as I drive by. I always nod back.

The first few times I saw him, I was impressed with his gumption. He's really committed to this walking thing, I thought. Good for him.

And then I noticed ... he usually walks with a lit cigarette.

Now THAT'S dedication.

So now the story I've built for him goes like this: He has had some sort of heart trouble. His doctor has told him to get more exercise. So every morning, he gets his shoes on, shouts at his wife that he's going for his walk and heads out the door. She doesn't know he sneaks a cigarette on the way. He walks to the bar on the far end of town and stops in for the shake of the day and one light beer. (This is Wisconsin. Bars are open before 8 a.m. and he won't be the only guy in there debating whether it tastes great or is less filling.) When he's done, he pushes his empty can and glass toward the bartender, slowly gets up off his bar stool and mumbles a friendly, "See you tomorrow," before making the trip back home.

He's happy. She's happy. The doctor is happy.

I'm happy, too.

Fa La La La Landmines

Boy, it's hard to eat right this time of year.

Between team celebrations at work, holiday dinner out with neighbors, family events, the countless piles of cookies and chocolate that pop up everywhere ... ugh.

I know I don't HAVE to munch on the chocolate covered strawberries that arrive on my desk. I am fully aware that the pizza restaurant HAS salad. I am capable of simply making that damn caramel Chex mix and giving it away WITHOUT eating any of it.

But it sucks you in. Just a bite. Just a taste. Just one.

Some days it feels like a hopeless battle. And, honestly, some days it is.

Fight back! Play defense. Here are a few ways I do:

When I took one work team out for holiday breakfast, I chose IHop because I know they have egg beaters and turkey bacon. When I took another team out for lunch, I chose Panara Bread because they offer all-veg options and show the calorie count on the posted menu. At last Saturday's pizza buffet restaurant, I ate two pieces of pizza (and enjoyed every bite!), but loaded up on the salad first so I didn't stuff five pieces in my face as my belly filled up.

And I upped my walking. Just a little, but enough to make me feel like I was controlling the playing field a bit.

Every little bit helps. Small decisions add up. You have to be practical and know you probably aren't going to be perfect. But you can do a pretty good job if you plan a little on the front end.

Now, if someone would just come get this blessed Chex mix off my counter ...

Unexpected Downside of Being Thinner #3

I have no idea what size underwear to buy.

The old ones fit like too-big granny panties. But it's not like you can try the new ones on before purchasing.

And at JCP, buying one pair at a time gets pricy because they tend to sell the types I think I like as 3-for-$24 or whatever ... with the single pair at $12.50 or something ridiculous.

Today's new pair not so smurfy. (TMI?)

Sign from God?

OK, so I spent ALL morning in church today. Attended an 8:15 a.m. service to hear my cousin's daughter sing in a cantata. Drove to Fort to see the back-to-back performances of the K-second grade and third-fifth grade Christmas programs at my home church.

The music at the first was truly beautiful. The kids at the second two were darling. (I especially loved the handsome third grader wearing the crooked donkey ears.)

The rest of my afternoon was dedicated to working out and making caramel chex mix to give away as a gift. Not necessarily in that order.

I started with the chex mix.

And I ate some cereal. I ate some pistachios. I ate some pretzels. Then I started making the chex mix. And I ate some more as I was melting, mixing, baking.

I was eating too much. Much too much.

And then ...

... I bit my lip.

Hard. Drew blood. It swelled up.

Yes, God. I get it. Stop eating already. Time to work out.

Crazy!

Today, an 8.

Sometimes retail therapy is better than looking at the scale. Crazy.

Crabby!

As you already may have noticed, it's been a rough week. Fittingly, I ate a lot of crab.

Well, fake crab, really. I like it; so sue me.

I add it to lettuce salads often. One of my go-to combinations includes onions, celery, carrots, sunflower seeds, aforementioned crab and light or fat-free ranch dressing. Perhaps a cherry tomato if I'm feeling frisky.

But one of my favorite ways to eat it is like this:

Better Than Subway Seafood & Crab
Fake crab
Onion, chopped
Celery, chopped
Fat-free or light Ranch dressing
Light cream cheese, heated a little in micro just to make it spreadable

Mix like tuna salad ... same consistency. Eat on toasted whole wheat pita. Or in Boston lettuce leaf wrap. Or on a whole wheat tortilla. You get the idea. Might even be good hot ... like on a toasted whole wheat English muffin under the broiler. Maybe with a dash of hot sauce and some low-fat mozerella or parmesean?

Tell Someone!

It sounds easy. If you're working really hard trying to get healthier, you're probably sharing that information with your friends and loved ones, right?

I'm not sure that's always true. I do think, however, that getting some support from the people around you can make the process better.

I was scared to death to tell anyone. Not because I'm shy, exactly. But because I just didn't want anyone to know how embarrassed I was and how crappy I felt about myself. I didn't want to try and fail and have someone know I failed. (In reality, I probably didn't want to admit any of that to myself.)

Over the years, I had learned to deflect all conversations about weight. I learned to poke fun at myself first, so no one else had to. Above all else, I learned to hide the way I felt. I never asked about anyone else's journey, either, because I didn't want to put them in an uncomfortable position. So I just NEVER talked about it at all. The elephant in the room.

But I got lucky.

I had two great friends who had been down the same road and were willing to share everything.

Hungry Girl cookbook? Check. Words of wisdom from Weight Watchers? Check. Endless discussions about different kinds of workouts and results? Check. News about past triumphs and failures without gloating or shame? Check.

All with no judgement. All with compassion. All with respect.

I didn't know it at the time, but I needed that outlet. I needed to talk about it. And, honestly, I needed people to help hold me accountable.

(By telling my family I was doing this, they knew I wasn't supposed to bury my face in a bowl of Chex mix at a party. By telling my friends I was doing this, they graciously suggested Subway for girls' lunch out instead of pizza.)

So, tell someone. And if you need someone to talk to about it ... let me know. I'd like to pay it forward.

Healthier Hash

Today was one of those days.

One of those days I was glad I worked out in the morning. Because after a non-stop, balls-to-the-walls, pull-my-hair-out-while-trying-not-to-cry day, I would have gotten home and said, "(Screw) it." And then ate a Dove ice cream bar, if I had one. Or two.

So as hard as it is to drag myself out of bed, I know it's the best thing.

And dinner needed to be easy.

So here's what it was.

Healthier HashOnions, chopped
Leftover roasted sweet potato chunks
Turkey sausage
Eggs
Salt & pepper

In a little canola oil, soften up the onions. Chop the potatoes a little more finely. Add them, cook until warm. Chop up the sausage and toss it in; heat through.

Gross But True

(Warning, this may not be for the faint of constitution.)

My skin is too big.

Well, not all of my skin. But certain parts. And it's pretty gross.

I keep hoping that over time it will snap back. Or shrink. Or suck up. Or something. So far, no luck.

I'm not exactly sure what to do about it, either. Part of me thinks that if I got on some kick-ass weight lifting program and built some nice muscles, that would take care of some of it. Part of me thinks that an information-gathering-trip-to-a-plastic-surgeon-slash-discussion-with-insurance-to see-how-impossible-that-is is the only way to go.

It pisses me off that I let it get so far before I did something about it. And now I have to live with the consequences.

My thighs and upper arms are the grossest. I'm torn between laughing and crying as I cardio box with Wii and hear my wing flaps slapping against my torso. (The noise is funny. The reality, not so much.) Every morning when I stretch before walking, I tug up on my wrinkly, dimply thighs to see what they'd look like all tight and smooth.

What a crappy deal.

We're planning on a Caribbean vaca some time in the next few months. While I'd really be comfortable enough to throw on a bikini (only in front of total strangers, mind you), I just can't imagine showing this weird sack of loose goo to an unsuspecting public.

Of course the cold, hard truth is that I can't even begin to think about doing anything until I've kept the weight off for a year or so ... just to make sure the new me is going to stick.

But I can't help but wondering what I'd weigh if I could just cut it all off. That's sort of creepy, too, isn't it?

Unexpected Downside of Being Thinner #2

I'm freezing ALL the time.

I'm wearing long jammie pants to bed. Sometimes with a hooded sweatshirt. With the hood up. And socks.

I absolutley hate wearing socks to bed. I hate having things all wrapped around my legs as I flop around. I hate having Jim's furnace body too close to mine as I try to sleep.

But here I am. Clinging to him for dear life as if we're buried in an iceberg together.

Now, I know there could be other reasons for the change in my internal thermometer. But menopause works the other way, right? Too hot. Not too cold.

So shush your mouth.

They're Baaack!

Remember the three pounds I said I lost this week? Two must have missed me and came back. I'm guessing I was either a smidge dehydrated and am now back to properly liquidated. (I bet that's different than hydrated.) Or, the scale is just buffed up.

Oh well. They will come off again. I'm a whole lot tougher and more determined than they are.

Not My Mama's Barf-e-cue

In my family, we call Sloppy Joes "Barbecues." They are a staple on a potluck table at a family gathering and something my mom made at least once every two weeks when we were kids because they were cheap and easy and fast. I remember eating them a lot in high school as she was trying to make sure we had something in our stomachs between after-school practices and part-time jobs.

They were always served on a white hamburger bun (that usually had been frozen, so it was kind of dried out and a little cold) and served with Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. The side dishes on that table probably consisted of a plate of colby cheese and dill pickles.

And I LOVE them.

Well, I love my mom's. I'm not a huge fan of the versions other people make. Can't stand Manwich.

Every once in a while I just get a hankering for one. Her secret recipe was ground beef and a bottle of Heinz Chili Sauce. That's it. Mmmmm. I like mine with a piece of colby cheese all melting on it. Truth be told, I abhor the white hamburger bun and will put them on just about anything else ... but I love the barbecue.

Jim hates them. And he calls them "barf-e-cues."

Now, he hates them all. Not just hers. Or mine. I guess that would make him an equal-opportunity hater.

Since last week was such a crazy, hectic mess and the coming week doesn't look much better, my plan was to use today to get a little ahead and ready for the rollercoaster ride that will start Monday. You know, make a few things to put in the freezer so they'd be ready when we got home late. Barbecue was just the ticket, but how do I make Jim like them?

I did this:

Not My Mama's Barbecue
Olive oil
1/4 c onion, chopped
1 stalk celery, chopped
1 pkg. ground turkey
Salt and pepper
2 tsp cumin
2 tsp chili powder
1/2 can shoepeg corn, drained
1 can black beans, rinsed
1 bottle chili sauce (located by the ketchup in the grocery store)

In a big frying pan, go once or twice around with olive oil. Add onions and celery, cooking until they're a little soft. Add the turkey, salt, pepper, cumin and chili powder. Break up the turkey as it cooks. When there's no more pink, add the beans and corn. Let it cook until all the liquid from the veg has cooked off. Taste it, adjust salt and pepper if you need to. The add the bottle of chili sauce. (Make sure to dump it all in, then add a little water to the bottle and shake it to get every last bit out. Doing this reminds me of my thrifty mom.)

Let it heat all the way through. Adjust seasoning if you need to. If you don't like a lot of cumin and chili, add less. If you like more spice, red pepper flake or even a little chipolte in adobo or a jalapeno would be good. I serve it on bakery wheat buns or a tortilla or on a whole wheat flatbread.

Jim even said he liked it. Assured me it was the corn that did it.

More is Less?

I lost three pounds in the past three days. Seems odd. I'm assuming it's not "real" and I'll fluctuate back up one or two tomorrow.

But for right now, it feels good.

The funny part is that I haven't eaten that well in the past few days. I had a Christmas cookie two days in a row. I ate an orange, pickles and some cheese after 8 p.m. I had Subway for lunch one day. I made horrible spaghetti and turkey meatballs for dinner Wednesday night and since it was so bad, I ate plenty of other stuff (including potato chips) to compensate for it.

I didn't eat anything truly awful. I didn't eat a LOT of anything. I just varied the pattern and ate a little more than I normally do.

There are times that I think being diligent day in and day out causes your body to lock into a pattern and not let go of any weight. And when you throw it a curve ball, it sits up and takes notice.

The key, I guess, is not to get too cocky and think eating more or eating late is OK all the time.

But wouldn't it be better if the catalyst of the weight loss was the Christmas cookie?

Unexpected Benefit of Being Thinner #3

I snore less. Or so they tell me. (But the dog has started snoring more. Not sure if they're related issues.)

Tricks for Treats

Ever sit down with a bag of chips, start munching and all of a sudden realize the bag is more than half gone?

It happens so fast. It happens with cookies, too. And candy. And French fries. Your intent is to just have a few. And then, ker-wham, you've ingested enough fat, salt and/or calories to last you all day.

To make it worse, if you sit in front of the TV while ingesting, this whole process speeds up and you eat more in less time ... in the case of chips, often the whole bag disappears. I think we should call it the "Law of TV Time Lapse" or something like that.

So I arm myself against this dangerous phenomenon. And I really try not to eat in front of the TV at all.

If I want chips, I open the bag, grab a small dish (like a ramekin or 1 cup measure) and fill it as full as I can. Then I clip the bag back up and put it back in the pantry BEFORE I sit down to eat my booty. I eat them one at a time to make sure this experience lasts as long as possible, savoring each and every one. (I'm not sure I've mentioned my love affair with potato chips before. It's not natural.)

At work, I don't keep any candy at my desk. But I do occassionally help stock someone else's bowl. If I have to walk to get it and someone watches me take it, I end up eating fewer pieces.

If I buy sunflower seeds or dried blueberries or dried cranberries, I divide them up into "single servings" using those little snack size plastic bags. When I want something sweet, I grab a little bag and go.

I'm also not too proud to admit that I will sneak a couple of fries, with permission of course, from somebody's plate, but never order my own.

Isn't that rude?

Marathons are for Chumps

I talked to a guy at work today who runs long distance races for fun. Trail races ... which means they take place on trails. As in, uneven terrain and hills and stumps and roots and rocks. Not on a shiny smooth road.

And they go for 40 miles.

That's 4-0.

Not some wimpy 26.2 like those lightweight marathoners do. He runs for more than 9 hours in a row. I find this insane.

I'm lucky to do 25 miles in a week. And I'm walking.

I guess I get the desire to do it one time. I can imagine the adrenalin rush. I think it would be so very cool to be able to walk around, casually letting it slip into conversation that you ran a 40-mile race. But after that ... I just don't get it.

Here's the kicker: he's training for both a 50- and 60-mile race in 2011.

Suddenly, 3 miles on weekdays and 5 miles on weekends doesn't seem like such a big deal. Or even that difficult.

How's that for inspiration?

I Ate Around It

Sometimes, the best intentions truly do lead to hell.

You see, I made Christmas cut-out cookies yesterday. (Mistake number one, if you want to keep score.) For the record, I'm a total slacker in the cut-out department. I buy a box of frozen dough, all cut out and ready to pop in the oven. It's LAZY and CHEATING, and I simply wouldn't have it any other way.

This year, I bought a whole box (mistake number two) ... even though my cookie dough "dealer" (who has a friend who works in food service and gets our secret cookie dough club a discount) allows us to buy a quarter or half box. The whole box is 12 dozen cookies or something outrageous. As you'd expect, they take up a lot of room in the freezer.

In an effort to reclaim some of that freezer space, I set up a little cookie assembly line for a few dozen. Baked 'em. Frosted 'em. Decorated 'em. Sent a bunch home with my mom and dad after the Packer game. Took some in to work for a friend that doesn't bake. That left a dozen or so here in the pantry.

I ate one and vowed to not eat another until the weekend.

So tonight when I got home, I DIDN'T eat one. I ate my dinner. And then a piece of cheese. And then some grapes. And then a few kernels of caramel corn some sinister boy scout convinced me to buy. (Mistake number three.) And then an orange.

Thank goodness I just didn't eat the cookie. I probably consumed three times as many calories trying to avoid it.

Not smart.

Every once in a while I feel a little guilty buying the bag of Dove chocolate squares. I should have enough discipline to not need it. But when I get in a mood like today, eating the 40 calorie Dove square is a better option than eating all around the cookie I want, but don't eat. It satisfies my sweet tooth and puts the angry beast shouting "Feed ME!" inside of me to rest.

What's a Lentil?

Today I was looking for something warm, vegetarian and filling. I found lentils and curry powder. Voila.

Lentil Soup
1 small yellow onion, chopped
3 stalks celery, chopped
A handful of baby carrots, chopped
1-2 tsp chopped garlic (I use the kind in the jar)
Salt and pepper
Olive oil
2 tsp curry powder
1 tsp cumin
1 tsp chili powder
1 tsp nutmeg
2 c rinsed lentils
1 can fire roasted diced tomatoes
8 c chicken or veg stock (I prefer low sodium/organic)

Optional:
1 pkg turkey kielbasa, chopped
1 c spinach or kale


In stock pot over medium heat , go a few times around the pan with olive oil. Toss in onion, celery and carrot. Cook until onions are translucent and celery/carrots start to soften. Salt and pepper to your liking. Add garlic, heat through. Add spices. (Back off on curry and chili if you don't like it too spicy.) Let the flavors blend for a couple of minutes. Add the lentils, tomatoes and stock. Bring to boil, reduce to simmer for about an hour. Before serving, add optional turkey sausage or greens. Let them heat through.

Feeds an army. (And I hope it freezes!)

Goodwill and Good Riddance

I've been holding on to some of my big clothes. As I grew out of them, I started folding them neatly and piling them on shelves in the closet in the back bedroom. The piles grew and grew.

At first I was afraid to let them go.

I think I was worried that I'd need them. And it would be stupid to have to go buy big sizes again if I did.

The shelves filled and I reached a point where I just didn't have room to store the stuff anymore. So I began taking a shopping bag or two to Goodwill every month or so. I consciously gave away what I liked least first, hanging on to the more expensive work clothes or the favorite pieces.

This morning I decided it was time for all of it to go buh-bye. I filled about five plastic grocery bags and two larger shopping bags with what was left of both my clothes and Jim's.

Then I saw a pair of those size 20 jeans and I just had to do it.

I put them on. Over the jeans I was wearing. And I burst out laughing, standing in the closet. I could literally pull them out 8 inches from my belly button. I could grab handfuls of denim at each outer thigh.

I ran to a mirror to see what they looked like and I couldn't believe the shape I saw staring back at me. I just couldn't get my head around it.

It's like I almost can't remember looking like that. The proportion of length to width looked so off kilter to me.

I ran to show Jim. To his credit, he didn't laugh. He said, "Holy shit."

The person I see in the mirror now is a different one than the person who wore those pants. While my first instinct was to laugh when I tried them on, looking at those pants now makes me a little sad.

Sad because I remember how bad it felt to feel so bad all the time. And I never want to feel like that again.

We dropped it all off at Goodwill. All except those pants. I'm going to tuck them away to help me remember.

Overwhelmed and Under Inspired?

You know those days or weeks or even occassionally months where the world is spinning so fast and it's all you can do to hang on?

I know you have them. We all do.

I'm in one of those cycles now. Work is a bonafide cyclone. I have no idea if I'm coming or going. It feels like there's 874 things to do and I can't even seem to knock numbers 1-5 off the list. Jim is stressing a little about his job and that makes me worry. My kid is experiencing some medical issues that consume part of my thoughts. My family is going through a stressful time. The holidays are coming and I have nothing done ... and on and on and on and on ...

There just aren't enought hours in the day to put a dent in any of it and the stress level is (say it like Rachel Zoe) be-yond.

So when I wake up at 4:40 every morning and immediately start worrying about whatever it was that I was worrying about when I fell asleep, the first thing I think about is skipping my workout. I just want to pull the covers over my head and hide. Right now, in fact, I'm already dreaming about sleeping in tomorrow and NOT making the trip to the basement to hop on the treadmill.

I haven't missed a day in more than three weeks, I reason. Surely I deserve a day off. Surely I have earned a little extra snuggle-in time.

Right?

That old thinking is so easy to fall back into. I fight it often.

I fight it with this:

I remember that the workout IS the reward. The workout is the thing that HELPS the stress. The workout lets me take one worry OFF my list.

And, quite frankly, the workout is the one thing I can control in this whirlwind.

It's 45 minutes set aside for just me. It's the one point in the day where I put myself first.

Staying healthy is the very best thing I can do for myself.

So I get out of bed. Head downstairs. And walk.

I hope YOU make time to be nice to you, too. You deserve it.

Supper in a Hurry

Went to work early today. Meetings literally back to back all day. Home after 7 p.m. with Jim about 10 minutes behind me.

I hate days like these.

So here's a fast supper that let's you use up the half a can of fire-roasted tomotoes leftover from the meatloaf. It's far from fancy gourmet. But it fills the void.

Pizza Quickies
2 or 3 whole wheat English muffins
1/4 cup-ish onion, chopped
1 small can mushrooms
1/2 can fire-roasted tomatoes
Handful or so of reduced fat shred mozerella
1 pkg. turkey pepperoni

Toast the English muffins until they're nice and crunchy. Saute the onion and mushroom (or whatever other pizza toppings you like) in a smidge of olive oil until the onions start to soften up. Pour the tomatoes in and let it all heat together. Spread on muffins, put a few slices of pepperoni on and sprinkle a little cheese. Nuke until cheese melts. To use for veg night, eliminate pepperoni and throw whatever veg you like on top.