Read. The. Labels.

Friday night and you know what that means for a wild, crazy, fun girl like me, right?

Yup. Friday night fish fry with my mother and a trip to the grocery store!

Wooo hooo! Did you hear Bret Michaels and the Rock of Love bus just screech to a halt, turn around and peel out on its way back to my house?

In the ongoing saga of peanut butter with no hydogenated oil, I stopped in front of the Pick n' Save PB&J section for a little investigation. The hubs hunkered down, knowing we might be there a while.

I found a few new things, among them these:


See how that second jar proclaims "1/3 Less Sodium and Sugar"? Sounds good, right?

Both were all natural. Both had short ingredients lists and neither contained hydrogenated oils. Both contained 17 grams of fat per serving.

The difference?

The lower sodium/less sugar peanut butter had 210 calories while the "regular" stuff had only 180. The lower sodium/less sugar version did have 75 grams of sodium vs. the 125 grams in the other stuff, but the difference between the two in your daily allowance of sodium is equal to only 2% ... so that's not a swaying factor for me. Both had 6 grams total carbs.

Just because it says it's better for you doesn't mean it really is. At best, these two are a push.

Read. The. Labels.

The Importance of a Schedule

As much as I want to be a hippy-peace-and-love-no-stress-fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants-throw-caution-to-the-wind-devil-may-care-rainbow-and-unicorns kind of girl ...

I'm not.

While I hate the confines of strict rules and unwavering requirements in all aspects of my life, I gotta admit I'm better with a deadline.

On the one hand, I hate Army-like regimentation. On the other, I need a little structure.

And, I think, that's what's been lacking in my exercise routine for the past few months. Part of what may have led up to this extra 10 (7.5 as of this morning) pounds. Part of what could have caused the shifting of the blubber into my butt and thighs.

My rest days vary too much. My long cardio workouts are hit and miss. I'm just not holding myself accountable.

So I'm giving some time to creating a new workout schedule, incorporating what I learned from the first go-round and from the injuries I suffered from this summer.

My new schedule, with the possibility of some tweaks to come, is going to look like this:

Monday: Rest day
Tuesday: Hip PT and run 3 or 4 miles in the a.m., swim 1 mile in the p.m.
Wednesday: Upper body strength workout and bike 1 hour in the a.m., swim 1 mile in the p.m.
Thursday: Run 4 miles in the a.m.
Friday:  Lift and choice of cardio or no cardio
Saturday: Long run
Sunday: Lift and bike 1 hour in the a.m.

CC Confessional

As a card-carrying Lutheran, I've never actually been in a Confessional. (I'm resisting the urge to say "confessional booth" because I think that's redundant?) But I view this post as the psychological equivalent.

I tried on three pair of pants from last winter season this morning and none of them fit.

None. Zero. Zip.

Nada.

I could tell you about the fear and the shame that engulfed me. (It did.) Or I could tell you about the pity party I had for myself all day. (It was spectacular.) Or I could tell you how pissed off I am at myself for letting this happen. (You have no idea.)

But I'm not sure any of that matters.

Instead I'm going to tell you what I chose to do about it.

I rode my bike this morning. I ate responsibly. I stole a Peppermint Patty from the HR guy's office. I swam this afternoon. I drank too much Coke Zero. And I told someone I trust about a new fitness goal, so he can help me get there AND hold me to it.

And, I told you the truth. Big surprise. Life isn't always sunshine, rainbows and unicorns.

I'm not sure what the exercise equivalent is of "Hail Mary," but if you want to prescribe some sort of penance for me, go ahead.

Nut Butter Project

My love of Reduced Fat Crunchy Skippy Peanut Butter is not a secret. I've been fairly honest with you about my obsession. I have told you about my trials and tribulations to find it in grocery stores. It's been the best part of my morning for more than two years.

I love this stuff.

Until Dr. Oz and Oprah ruined it for me, that is.

I happened to catch an old episode of Oprah during an early morning workout session (OWN network, 7 a.m.) in which Ms. O had Dr. Oz as a a guest. Dr. Oz was wearing scrubs. I'm not sure why. It's not like he had surgery immediately before or after the taping, I suspect. But I digress.

Dr. Oz was working with an Oprah viewer who was 50 lbs. overweight and sleeping 18 hours a day. As part of the intervention/makeover/life change, Dr. Oz and a medical pal went to this woman's house to get her fridge and pantry in shape. They made two piles: stuff that could stay and stuff that had to go. In the stay pile? The usual suspects. Real food. Nothing processed or full of chemicals. If the label listed a form of sugar (high fructose corn syrup, etc.), salt, partially hydrogenated anything, salt in the first five ingredients, it got tossed.

They pulled out a tub of Country Crock spread and read the list. Up top was partially hydrogenated something. The good doctor explained that this was fake food. Not really food at all. It was lab created and our bodies don't know how to process it. And because our bodies don't know how to process it, it clogs our arteries.

Our bodies have been ingesting and processing butter for thousands of years. Our plumbing/wiring/mechanical systems know what to do with butter. The lesson? A little butter is better than any fake food.

They moved on to peanut butter. Jif, to be exact. You guessed it. Partially hydrogenated.

So I was compelled to read my label. It wasn't good. Sugar. Hydrogenated oil. Lots of chemicals.

Crapola.

Now I'm on a mission to find something better. In my fridge right now I have a sunflower nut butter and an unsalted cashew butter. I like the first better than the second, but neither is as good as Skippy.

But I'm determined. The first step is to mix 1/2 Skippy with 1/2 of sunflower butter. It's not great, but I'm going to give my taste buds some time to adjust to the decreased sweetness and saltiness.

Oh, and I'm adding a nibble of Nutella, too. A spoonful of sugar, as they say.

All Out of Whack

Time for some honesty. 

I'm struggling. 

I have put on some pounds. I'm eating like a crazy person. My exercise routine is anything but ... hit or miss at best. 

And it's messing with my head. 

The more out of whack I get, the harder it is to get back in a groove. I know I need to make a schedule and stick to it. I know I need to eat on program and stop nibbling all the damn time. I know it's up to me and only me to make these things happen ... and when I do, I will feel so much better about everything. 

I'm still battling injury ... the hip injection worked, but then my knees started in. So I've been trying to run/walk only every other day. I've started riding my bike in the basement, but I don't have a great routine down yet and I'm not sure if I'm pushing myself hard enough. I have been swimming twice a week minimum,  but I'm not sure that's enough. I've stopped weighing myself every day. I'm afraid to because the news isn't always good. I hear this voice in my head that says it's OK to buy a small bag of M&Ms and I listen.

(You can't out exercise bad eating. No matter how hard you try.) 

How do you start exercising like you're supposed to? You just start. How do you stop eating? You just stop. How do you quit worrying about it all? You do the right things so there's nothing to worry about. 

My point is that we all go through this. This is a decision we make every day. It's normal. What you're feeling, like what I'm feeling, is normal. And it's beatable. Overcome-able. Survivable. 

One step at a time. 

I Fed 'em Doughnuts and Fast Food

I spend a lot of time thinking about food. I am constantly evaluating why I think what I think. When I think it. How I think it. I try to find the deep psychosomatic reasons I eat ... constantly  (As in, I think about it constantly and I seem to eat constantly.) I have heard the term "relationship with food" and hate it. But, let's face it. I probably like food more than I like Jim, so it makes sense. Though I'm not entirely sure what it means.

So it's only natural that I'm observing and obsessing over everyone else's "relationship with food" too. How can Jim NOT require breakfast within an hour of waking and how can he eat the same ham sandwich every day for lunch and not care? How does my mom eat her piece of fruit and dry toast every morning and NEVER make an egg? How can a friend "forget to eat"? How do some kids who grow up eating only chicken nuggets and apple juice turn into young adults that like to experiment with food?

My gut tells me that our relationship with food starts to develop really early. I know we should NOT let the kids be the boss and choose what they eat. We should expose them to many different things, requiring at least a try, and then provide good nutrition before all else.

My nieces were here for a sleepover last night. Two girls, two very different approaches to food in spite of being raised in the exact same household. One could care less if we ate at all, as long as there was a gas station with a bag of chips coming in the next 8 hours or so. Her repertoire is not broad, nor deep and tends to focus in on crunch, salt and sugar.

The other is always hungry. Her menu choices are more varied and she likes a bit more of her dad's Mexican cuisine. And she loves waffles and cereal. In fact, for years, she smelled yummy like syrup all the time.

I suspect they eat much like many or most kids. Neither are terrified to try things ... some they try willingly, some require a little coaxing. Nearly always, the try is met with a "Yuk," and that's OK.

At my house, we spend a lot of time talking about eating healthy. And exercising. I try to involve them in what I'm doing and explain the choices I make as I make them.

And my intentions are good.

So why did we eat Chinese buffet last night for supper, Dunkin Donuts for breakfast and Subway for one/Taco Bell for the other at lunch?

Because I'm a bad, bad woman. There is no reason to give a kid four doughnuts for breakfast. No matter how much they love them. I'm not teaching them to eat right and I send them home with bellies full of crap, ruining the work their mom tries to do.

I don't want to be responsible for a lack of restraint. Or for a deep-seeded association of "love = food." Or for making food some sort of a battlefield.

From here on out, it's banana before doughnuts and there's a new limit of two.

Healthy Thanksgiving Recipes, Part 2

"Bring something healthy," is not as easy as it sounds. Number one, no one wants to actually eat anything healthy when there's mashed potatoes and gravy, buttery-and-crispy-on-top stuffing, those delicious cranberries right out of the can. (Yes, I'm one of those people. I love that jelly!)

Number two, no one wants to eat raw veg, which is the obvious choice.

So, armed with a Better Homes and Gardens magazine, I picked a fall salad that was colorful, crunchy and different. Yes, I brought some home. But I also had a single request to package some up for a fan.

I also took a healthy dip and some homemade pita chips. What I like about both recipes is that they can sit out for a while and there's no worrying about spoiling or melting or whatever ... so they'd be good for summer, too.

Harvest Slaw
(I'm going to give you Better Homes and Gardens version first, then tell you how I modified.)
4C red cabbage, sliced in thin ribbons
2 med to large apples (I used Cameo) sliced thin
Big handful of toasted pecans
Big handful of dried cranberries
Chopped cilantro

For dressing: Put 3T olive oil in a saute pan, add 2 cloves garlic, 2t ground caraway seeds, 1T honey. Heat through. Add 1/4C cider vinegar. Pour dressing over ingredients above, stir and serve.

I either had too much cabbage or the dressing just wasn't enough. I could have easily doubled it, I think. The recipe also did not call for salt and I think it needed some. I used a seasoned salt.

Red Pepper Spread
(http://www.ivillage.com/red-pepper-and-walnut-dip/3-r-312268)
1 onion, sliced thin
4 red peppers, seeded and sliced thin
2 cloves garlic, chopped
Juice and zest of one lemon
1C chopped toasted walnuts (I used pecans, because it's what I had)
Salt

Saute the onion in ample amount of olive oil. When it starts to soften, add red peppers. Cook until the whole mix is soft. Add garlic at the end. Let it all heat through.

Put mixture in food processor. Add walnuts, lemon zest and lemon juice. Pulse to relish-like consistency. Serve room temp with raw veg or homemade pita chips.

Healthy Thanksgiving Recipes, Part 1

I told you I was tasked to bring a chocolate pie and "something healthy." I actually ended up making two pies, both with modifications that made them healthier, but clearly still pie. And then I tried a new recipe for a salad and for a pre-dinner snack.

Here's the pie how-tos first.

Base "Fixins"
Brownie mix, prepared according to package instructions. Can substitute applesauce for veg oil and Egg Beaters for whole eggs if you desire.
2 8-oz bricks of light cream cheese (1/3 fat Neu;fgh7ight#jgal or however you spell that.)
Approx 1C powdered sugar
1 big and 1 little box of sugar-free chocolate instant pudding, prepared according to package directions with skim milk
1/2C or so reduced fat peanut butter
Optional: Chocolate chips or shaved chocolate; Reese's peanut butter cups

Prepare brownie mix and split batter between two pie plates. Bake according to package directions. Let cool completely.

Let cream cheese come to room temp or nuke it for a couple of minutes. Mix powdered sugar in, tasting as you go. I didn't measure ... you want it sweet, but not too sweet. Mix one half of that mixture with peanut butter until fully incorporated. If it's too thick, stir in a few scoops of Cool Whip. Reserve other half for the next step.

Make pudding according to package instructions. Stick it in the fridge and let it set up for 15 minutes. Put 2 or 3 cups of pudding in with reserved cream cheese mixture and beat until fully incorporated

OK, so now you're ready to assemble. The idea is to make layers and make it pretty. You might have too much pudding. There's no law for how to mix and layer this. Mix and match anything from above and it will taste good. Or you could get all crazy and add nuts or crumbled up cookies or whatever.

Chocolate Pie
On top of brownies, spread pudding/cream cheese layer first. Then add a layer of pudding only. Then top with Cool Whip. You can sprinkle choc chips on top ... or if you're feeling crazy, mix them in with any layer you want. Or in the brownies themselves, I guess. It's your pie. Do it how you want.

Chocolate Peanut Butter Pie
On top of brownies, spread peanut butter/cream cheese layer first. Then add the pudding layer. (Or pudding mixed with cool whip ... or pudding mixed with cream cheese if you have any left over.) Then spread Cool Whip on top. Sprinkle chopped up Reese's if you have them. I didn't have any, so I cut up a  chocolate/peanut butter Fiber One bar! It was pretty.

Prevent Defense

If you'd ever watched a Green Bay Packer football game with my dad, you would have heard a couple "complaints" oft repeated:

1. Green Bay can't #"*% tackle! You can't grab them around the @#$^ shoulders! You gotta get'em at the @#$^%^ knees!
2. That @#$*&* PREEEE-vent DEEEE-fense (pronounced just this way) is a crock of @(^%^$! They're gonna let'em march right down the &$#$ @&*# field.

For those not in the know, yes, my dad had colorful language and a prevent defense is where the defense hangs back, letting the offense (or OH-fense if you pronounce it like my radio play-by-play man dad) "have" short-yardage gains in an effort to force them to burn time off the clock and prevent a spectacular, big yardage play that winds up with someone in the end zone.

It seems to me that smart eaters treat the day before Thanksgiving like prevent defense. Make some concessions today so that tomorrow doesn't end up knocking your whole program out of whack.

Here's my playbook:
1. Ate normally today, focusing on vegetables. Small portions. Salad for dinner. You get the drift.
2. Exercised a bit more today. Did a 3-mile run this morning and a 1.5 mile swim this afternoon.
3. Going to run tomorrow morning before the big event. And lift a few weights.

Those three things will allow me to enjoy all there is to offer on my favorite day of the year.

Hope you and yours have a wonderful one.

Conundrum

It wasn't the biggest problem I had today. It wasn't even close really.

But it stumped me.

I had no idea how to do it. I could imagine the obvious ways to attack it, but neither of the most logical two seemed significantly better than the other and neither seemed right.

It felt like there should be a "trick" to doing it right.

I just didn't know what that might be. And doing it wrong could cause irreversible damage, right?

So I called an expert for advice.

"Deb? It's me. How do I put on a swim cap? Hair wet or hair dry?"


Steps for Putting On a Swim Cap
Hair Dry: Harder to get on, more secure once on. Hair wet: Easier to get on, less secure once on.
1. Bend over at the waist.
2. Put your hands inside the cap and spread them out.
3. Secure the front of the swim cap first, getting it placed properly on your forehead first.
4. Stretch the cap over the rest of your head.
5. Tuck stray hair in.
6. Ears in or out, your choice.

P.S. With my competition suit, goggles and swim cap, I look like a real pool bad ass.

Thanksgiving Potluck Metaphor

Lucky me ... I don't have to host Thanksgiving this year! (Though I believe my turn in the rotation comes up next year.)

Our family Thanksgiving is "potluck-ish" in that everyone pitches in and brings something so the host and hostess aren't burdened by all that 20+ diners require. Actually, it could be closer to 30 diners if all show. That's a LOT of mashed potatoes, if you get my drift.

The host family usually supplies the bird, the stuffing, the potatoes and gravy. Guests bring the rest.

What was I asked to bring? A chocolate pie and something healthy. I really like the ying and yang of that. It's sort of the perfect metaphor for my approach to this whole thing. Remember what Dr. Kidd said, waaaaaay back in the beginning of this?

"You gotta live a little." Dr. Kidd and the Clever Mediterraneans

So I plan on making a totally decadent chocolate pie and a healthier slaw-style salad. If either (or both) of them turn out OK, I'll post recipes.

And we both know which dish will require me to bring it home because it won't all get eaten, right?

Proof That I'm the Slowest ...

I spent the weekend with a state-qualified high school swimmer, her mom/club coach, her aunt/former high school swimmer and two other lovely ladies who swam on club and high school teams.

With all that talent, I had to ask for swimming advice, right? I had my ass handed to me again on Wednesday by two people who, when standing on the side of the pool, looked like people I thought I'd smoke.

I asked a lot of questions. They gave a lot of great advice.

And then I learned this ...

State-qualifying 500m-free swimmers complete that distance in 5 minutes. I assume lesser talents clock in at 6 minutes.

That means it would take them between 17-22 minutes to swim the distance I'm swimming in 45 minutes. Sometimes 50 minutes.

Umm, yeah. Told you I was slow.

But now that I have a shiny new swim cap, a pocketful of great advice and a new challenge, I'm gonna change all that.

P.S. I was fortunate enough to have a long weekend with my girls. You know the group ... girlfriends you've knows since before you were really you. The crew that's there on every best day in your life and, more importantly, there beside you on every worst day. They are the ones who helped you figure out who you were going to be and they are the ones that know all the bad stuff about you and like you anyway. I love and admire these women more than they know. And I'm grateful they are in my life.

Stuffed

Tell me if you do this, too.

In the spring, when the weather starts to warm up, I stop wearing pants.

Well, I don't stop wearing them altogether, but I put away my "winter pants" and break out the lighter-weight fabrics, the capris, the shorts, the skirts and dresses.

As such, there comes a day in fall when the mercury starts to drop, that I have to dig in the back of the closet and pull those babies back out again. Today was that day.

I find myself holding my breath as I slide them on, hoping they still fit. For two years, I've found the breath-holding to be unnecessary.

Today was a different story.

The pair of basic black dress slacks that has fit for two years, the pair that has always made me feel skinny, the pair that has at times been on the verge of too big ... was a tight squeeze.

They were uncomfortably snug in my thighs, hip and rear. Wearable. But not cute.

While my weight isn't vastly different ... 10 pounds from my average low ... it has apparently settled in some familiar and typical places.

What a crappy way to start the day.

But guess what? I'm the only person who can change this. I'm the one who will decide what I put in my mouth and how much I work out. I already know it's a simple math problem ... I have to burn more calories than I take in.

These pants will fit and feel like I remember. Before the winter is up.

Men are Funny

When I got to the pool today, there was one swimmer in it. As I stretched and headed toward the ladder to get in, he had finished his laps and was at the ladder, climbing out.

It took him a minute to move up the three steps. His legs were wobbly.

"That ladder is tough on bad knees and hips, isn't it?" I ask with my biggest, friendliest smile. (Look at me, making conversation with strangers!) "I have trouble with it, too!"

I notice then that he's quite a bit older than me. Looks sort of like Burt Reynolds. The Burt with a dark mustache, curly dark chest hair and just a little pooch.

"Oh alk dlkfejla aldkflakdfdj! Ha ha ha ha ha!" he says. (I don't hear that well and noise echos in a pool, so I have no earthly idea what he said. But he was cheerful about it.)

He continued, with the volume greatly increased, "Oh, yes! That's A MILE AND A HALF DONE! Now if I could just stop eating so much, I'd be in good shape!"

As he says this, he's all but silent movie, over-exaggerated-ly winking at me. Had his mustache been of the handlebar variety and had there been a big, thick, gold shark's tooth on a Figaro chain, it would have been picture perfect.

And since he now knew that the lifeguard and I both knew just how far he swam, he turned on his heel and left.

I only went about a mile and an eighth, good sir. You won.

And, better yet, I've made sure others know of your outstanding feat, too. Because I'm pretty sure the more people who know, the better, from your vantage point.

26 Minutes!

What can you do in 26 minutes?

More importantly, what can you do FOR 26 consecutive minutes?

One of our CC family chicks can run for 26 minutes. In a row. Considering how long her legs are and how long she's been training, I'm saying that's 2 miles easy, and probably halfway to three. Hell, it could be three.

This is the girl to decided to "just add one minute" every time out.

And minute by minute by minute, 26 is here before you know it.

That's how we do this. Small steps in the right direction. Every day.

But you can't make progress until you start.

What are you waiting for?

It All Comes Crashing Back

This is a photo of me and my 10-year-old niece. We're watching the sun go down on our last night in Florida. The whole family was out on our balcony. We were laughing and talking and loving the togetherness of the moment.

And this one single photo has all but erased all of the golden glow mojo of a truly wonderful bit of history.

Why? Because when I look at this photo, all I see is how enormous my upper arm looks. And how the roll of my gut is accentuated by this pose. And how that shoulder seam looks positively taxed.

Now, my logical brain says:
1. Of course your arm looks big next to the girl we call Flaca (skinny) ... the girl who is rarely at or above the 5th percentile on height/weight charts. It's an unfair compare. And, you are squeezing her, so your arm is flattened out. And you already know you have gobs of extra skin hanging from your upper arms. But we've all decided that extra skin is better than extra fat.
2. The roll of your gut is being accentuated by the way you're slouching in that weird lawn furniture. And again, you know you have extra skin there. It shows up in situations like this. You are still wearing the shorts you've worn for the past two years ... comfortably. Don't panic.
3. That shirt has elastic on the sleeve. It's stuck in an unflattering place, to be sure, but it's not too tight. It doesn't leave a mark when you wear it.

But my emotional brain only sees the stuff that makes me feel bad about me.

After all this time, I'm still a bit surprised at how quickly I can become that scared, unsure, unhappy girl.

Part of the reason is that I know I'm still over the weight I want to be. I have not been successful at taking those 7 or 8 pounds off that I put on over the summer. I feel bigger. My clothes feel tighter. I've gotten much, much to lax with my eating.

And I'm terrified that I won't be able to do it again.

Best Part of the End of Vacation

Woke up this morning in my own bed. That's the good part of the end of vacation. Maybe the best part of the end of vacation. 

Unfortunately, I woke up because my knees were throbbing. 

Which means I overdid it on the running this week. The 10-ish miles I was putting in each day, coupled with the extra walking that sightseeing brings, was just too much. 

And while I thought running on sand would soften the literal and figurative blows, I think I was wrong. The sand does seem like it would provide a squishier surface than the road, but the constant changing of the sand might have offset the benefits. 

For the past two days, the tide was higher, forcing me to run through deeper, more uneven footing. In some spots, I was on a steep sideways incline. 

Then, like an idiot, I also walked to the grocery store in flip flops and carried home two liter bottles of soda and a 6-pack of beer. And my two "rest" days weren't really rest days. They included three miles of walking. Duh. 

So I'm going to pay. Good thing the Y is open. 

Chips, Pop and Beer

Vacation is drawing to a close. Which means vacation eating is drawing to a close.

Thankfully.

I have made no fewer than four trips to the grocery store for the title of this post.

It's sad, but I think that's the basis of our diet. Or, at least, it's what we seem to ingest most of, requiring the most replenishment.

Don't call social services. The 8- and 10-year-old will not win any Nutrition Contests on this trip. (Oh, and for the record, they aren't drinking any beer. We are from Wisconsin and everything, but even we have some boundaries.)

Getting back in the groove is going to be hard.

Tale of Two Walkers

So, every morning on this beautiful stretch of beach, I head out to get my six miles in. I go from condo to pier to bridge and back. On alternating days, condo to bridge to pier and back. (I'm crazy unpredictably spontaneous like that.)

When I'm done, I pick up my mom and we do another three miles walking. If you know my mom, she's a no-nonsense, quick-stepping, movin' and groovin' lady. As such, our three-mile jaunt doesn't take very long.

If you've ever seen me haulin' ass in an airport, you'd know immediately that I take after her.

Today we were joined by my hubs and Ms. Kati. It's the first time in history the four of us have ever walked together and it was obvious from the get-go that it simply wasn't going to work.

My mom and I don't really chat a whole lot. We're more about getting the task at hand done. This is exercise, dammit, and breaking a small sweat is fine. In fact, with the cooler temperatures the past two mornings, breaking a sweat is a much sought-after outcome and not easy to accomplish. We both stare mostly at our feet ... heads down, looking only far enough ahead to plot our course between tide pools, flat sand and vast deposits of shells.

Hubs and Ms. K? They are on a treasure hunt. Examining every piece of sponge and coral washed on shore by yesterday's winds. They meander, talking, laughing, punching. Walk 10 steps and stop to examine a crab's claw. Then walk for 60 more seconds and find what appears to be one-legged bird. They pick up shells. Lots of shells.

In other words, it takes them FOREVER to get to the pier, our 1.5-mile away turnaround point.

Both teams realize the difference in our approach. And we try to even things out on the way back. But I'm pretty sure there's no group exercise plan on the agenda tomorrow.

Which is perfectly OK with all of us.

Which kind of walker are you?

Florida Inspriations

Do you have any idea how many "old" people here work out?

Today, I ran with an old man who was barely shuffling along, but moving nonetheless. And on the same course, a tall, thin, blond woman who race walks with these cross-country-like walking poles.

In addition to the dozens of men, women, couples cruising up and down the beach at any given hour, we also saw a blue-hair roller-blading today on the sidewalk.

It makes me think.

These people know how valuable MOVING is. They know it makes their lives longer and they know it makes them better.

It's a good lesson.

Eating is Better Together

Nothing tastes better than a dinner shared with those you love most.

Leftovers, schmestovers.

Through the Fog

(This is a metaphor for clear goals. And achievable challenges. And courage. I am telling you this just in case the words don't come out right.)

Today, my morning run was along a beach. It was a beach I'd run on before. I roughly knew the landmarks. However, this morning, I couldn't see any of them. It was foggy. Really foggy. So foggy, it was hard to see the condos from the hard-packed sand at the water's edge.

Fog is nice on the one hand. It keeps the hot sun off of you. On the other hand, it make those landmarks hard to see. You end up running into the abyss ... not sure how far you've gone and not sure how far you've yet to go to get to your destination.


It occurred to me that the process of getting healthy can be a lot like running into the fog every once in awhile.

When I was bigger. I knew where I wanted to go. I just had no way to "see" how to get there. But I had to keep putting one foot in front of the other because the only thing I knew for sure was that I wouldn't find it by staying still. I wouldn't find it by staying where I was and doing what I was doing.

What I learned through this process was that when you're on sort of unfamiliar territory, those little landmarks on the way to your goal are important. They help you know you are on track. On pace. Accomplishing those smaller goals along the way give you the courage and strength and belief in yourself that you CAN do this.

The truth is, today's run felt farther than it really was because I couldn't see where I was going. I couldn't see the ice cream shop. Or the house with the elephant tusk entryway. Or the pier that is my turnaround until I was right on top of them. I didn't get the satisfaction of seeing that I was getting closer.

But I kept running anyway. Because I knew they were up ahead, regardless of what was in my viewfinder.

I had to trust that I was on the right path. And I had to accept that it's OK to run into the fog a little because I knew I would find sunshine ahead of me.

And I did.

(Forgot the sunscreen, too, and I'll pay for that tomorrow when I'm in the shade.)

What to Do When You Can't Sleep?

My internal clock (worry meter, really) went off at 3:48 this morning. What do you do in the dark at 3:48 a.m.?

You try to sleep until it becomes very clear that there's no going back to sleep. This occurred at 4:19 a.m.

Then you get up. And take care of a few loose ends. Throw in a load of laundry. Let the dog out. When all that's done, you put your workout clothes on, find a headband, lace up your shoes ...

And hit the treadmill with the early morning news featuring Pam Jahnke, the fabulous farm babe.

Oh, you also run one additional mile and throw a walking one in, too.

After all, you have time.

Head First

(To mimic what the cool kids say these days ...)

Truth is: I think I'm starting to enjoy swimming.

That's right. I think I kind of like it. Look forward to it, even. Me ... the slowest girl in the pool. Can you believe it?

What happened, you ask?

Well, mostly I think I just started to feel like I know what I'm doing. I got comfortable with the Y. I got comfortable with the routine I developed in the water.

And most of all, I started to feel like I COULD do it. Like I knew what the hell I was doing.

It reminded me of how I felt when I figured out how the gears on my bike worked. Or when I ran three miles in a row the first time.

It's the feeling of, "Yeah, I got this."

My point, of course, is that sometimes it takes a while to decide what you like. You probably tell your kids a version of this concept when you're making them try new vegetables. It just takes a little time to find your groove.

Any new habit takes a little time to take root. So give a new exercise time. Give yourself a chance to form a complete, well-rounded opinion.

You just might surprise yourself.

P.S. If I'm being totally honest, one of my favorite parts of going to the pool is the fact that it's WARM in there! I spend my days in the meat locker that is my office and it's just nice to get heated all the way through. I mentioned the hot tub, right?