Reader Participation: Food or Supplements?

HR Girl and I had a chat today about sardines.

Well, actually it started out as a chat about Omega-3 Fatty Acid and ended up as a longer-than-you'd-think-possible conversation about sardines. (I've never tried them ... and have no plans to. She likes 'em with Triscuits.)

Apparently, none of us get enough Omega-3 and, like Vitamin D, it's easy to pop a couple of supplements and call it good.

So, I did a little research. What good does Omega-3 do? Where do you get it? And how much is enough?

WebMD says Omega-3 Fatty Acid can lower triglyceride and blood pressure levels, decrease inflammation, and improve rheumatoid arthritis and depression. Which sounds good, right? It's found in fatty or oily fish ... like salmon, tuna, lake trout, herring and sardines. It's also in flaxseed, walnuts, olive oil. The recommendation is to eat 2-3 servings of fish a week.

None of us probably eat 2-3 servings of salmon or tuna a week. I could, I think. It would take a little planning and finagling. But I eat walnuts and olive oil, too, so the 3x per month I absolutely get is probably good. Or close enough.

And when push comes to shove, I'd rather use my food as my fuel. I'd rather get what I need from the "real" source vs. a supplement. The closer it is to its natural form, it seems, the better your body can process it or the more benefit you get from it. Mother Nature has this all figured out. We just have to pay attention.

What do you think? Do you use supplements? What and why? Do you notice a difference? Does your doctor recommend anything? Do you think you get enough from food?

Talk to me! Comment here or on the FB page.

Three-Day Break

I've been on a three-day exercise hiatus.

It was sort of unplanned. Since I landed at 11:45-ish Monday night, and didn't get home until after 1 a.m. Tuesday, waking up early to workout a few hours later simply wasn't in the cards.

By Tuesday afternoon, I was feeling really wiped out. No wonder why ... I got 22-24 miles in while I was gone, woke up early and went to bed late nearly every day, ate pretty badly and then had to manage the 2-hour time change on top if it all.

And, just to make things interesting, my ear was killing me and a quick trip to the doc at work revealed a lovely double ear infection.

I know I should feel guilty or something. But I don't. I needed the rest. I needed to get my eating straightened out. I needed to let the antibiotic kick in.

Still waiting on that last one.

We'll see what tomorrow morning brings. Learning to listen to your body is part of this process. Being able to distinguish the real "I need some rest" that lives in your bones from the fake "I'm too tired to workout" that your brain tries to trick you into is an acquired skill.

Flirting with a Challenge

I met an interesting woman in Mesa this weekend. She was but a little, bitty thing, but she had a great adventure to tell.

You see, she hikes the Grand Canyon, rim to rim. She's done it five times.

That's 24 miles. It takes 12 hours. And the park rangers strongly discourage it because so many who attempt it have to be rescued every year.

I think it's fascinating.

And part of me wants to do it.

It appears to be quite dangerous, as there are many things to worry about. Elevation, enormous temperature swings, rattlesnakes, injuries and no easy access for rescuers. It requires very careful planning of water and nutrition intake, it starts in the dark and it demands rigorous training.

Did I mention I find it fascinating?

My new friend (or at least I hope that's what I can call her) makes the trek with an experienced group of veterans hikers. She says it requires an abundance of both physical and mental stamina. She also says it's one of the most magnificently extrordinary experiences of her life. She used the word "spiritual" and made sure I knew she wasn't some kooky, tree hugging, hippy chick that throws that term around in a silly way. "You realize you are just a speck, just a speck, in this world and no problem you have is so big or bad or awful."

It's crazy, right? As my hope of running one marathon gets farther away, this somehow seems possible. I'm hoping the feeling passes.

Read more:
http://www.mensfitness.com/leisure/travel/fit-travel-hiking-the-grand-canyon-rim-to-rim
http://www.dayhiker.com/directory/GrandCanyonrimtorimDayHike.htm

10 Surefire Ways to Not Lose Weight

10. Eat out. A lot.
9. Eat chips. A lot.
8. Drink adult beverages every day. Or every other day.
7. Walk slowly because walking fast is too hard.
6. Buy bigger clothes because the old ones are too small.
5. Overindulge occassionally, but then never under-indulge to make up for it.
4. Sample ALL of the desserts.
3. Keep candy (or whatever your weakness) within easy reach at all times.
2. Skip a workout.
1. Tell yourself how fat you are and keep repeating it over and over in your brain.

It's All About Perception

I'm in Arizona right now, spending time with my bestie from high school (elementary school, really) in celebration of her beautiful daughter's own graduation from high school. The ceremony was last night and it was so much fun to watch the graduate and her best buds cry and laugh and hug and scream ... and so impossible to think that it was 27 dang years ago when we were doing the very same thing.

It's such a monumental event for them ... the biggest day in their lives so far. The launching pad for whatever comes next. And yet the 45-year-old who, still rather surprisingly, stares back at me in the mirror realizes that while high school graduation is big, it won't be the biggest thing in their lives for long.

There's so very much more to come and it's going to be so much MORE important.

They're going to make moral and ethical choices about the kind of human being they are going to be. They're going to make career choices that will, in part, determine the kind of life they live. They are going to make romantic choices that will build them up or tear them down and eventually, perhaps, find the one person on the planet who challenges them enough, entertains them enough and trusts them enough to make life better than they thought possible.

They're going to succeed in some things. And they're going to fail. They're going to be afraid. And they're going to learn to count on themselves.

In the end, they're going to survive -- and thrive -- the best way they know how because they have to. There's simply no other choice. They will live the life they make. And have to live with it, too, if that makes sense.

So while graduation is big, it's going to get bigger. And they can't predict what will happen, but they can lay down the right foundation so that no matter what does, they're ready.

And what the hell does this have to do with eating right and exercising, you ask?

Well, there's perception and reality in that, too.

I was here 18 months ago. And I was feeling on top of the world physically. I had what I thought was an almost-two-mile loop around the neighborhood and I was able to run it three times every morning.

Today, I took my phone along and tracked the loop with MyTracks app as I walked it. The loop is actually closer to 2.5 miles. Which means I was running 7.5 miles a day then, not the 6 I thought I was. If you'd have asked me if I could run 7.5 miles back then, I'd have told you, "No way." If you'd have asked me if I was going to be happy "only" walking that loop twice in the future, as I did today, my response would have been the same. My perception of my capabilities was a bit off. And my perception of my achievement was, too.

I didn't know then  that I was as strong as I was. I also didn't know that it was going to be sort of short-lived. But because I put the right foundation down ... I know how to eat and I know how to exercise ... I can make the necessary adjustments in my life to handle this bump in the road.

You are stronger than you think. You are tougher than you know. You are capable of living the life you want.

Your perception of yourself matters ... because it's where your reality starts.

Gazombas

Hooters. Jugs. Knockers. Melons. Chi Chis. Tetons. Fun Bags. Boobies.

Or as my husband likes to say, Snack Trays.

Whatever you call them, we all got'em. And the best thing about gaining 10 pounds back is that I have gained a bit in that area, too.

The worst thing?

My bras don't fit as well as they should and I'm having a little spilliage problem. Not cool. Sort of embarrassing. And I feel all bouncy and jiggly.

But I'm betting my husband doesn't care about that, regardless of what they're called.

(P.S. Did you know there are dozens of websites with lists of synonyms for boobs? Isn't the InterWeb that Mr. Gore invented an interesting and wonderful place? I didn't find a single list that included Snack Trays, BTW. Pretty sure he made that one up himself. My personal favorite from my very brief research? Pointer Sisters. And ... you're welcome.)

Bad Habit Hangover

Ugh.

Monday was a long day.

After a busy weekend that involved too much salt (Snack mix! Cheese popcorn!), too much sugar (Cupcakes! Birthday cake!), too many useless calories (Fried fish! Southern Comfort!), combined with a lack of sleep, I was a hurting unit on Monday.

I drank a 2L bottle of Diet Cherry Coke as a way to combat the tiredness and general fogginess I was feeling as the first day of the work week dragged on. And on. And on.

That didn't really help matters.

I shudder when I think of all that fake chemical sugar in my body. But I needed it. Or thought I did.

Of course that mean sleep didn't come easy Monday night, either. Last night, I went to bed early and this morning finally felt like myself again. (My husband told me there was a nasty thunderstorm, but I could have cared less.)

I'm always surprised at how different I feel when I'm not taking care of myself properly. Part of it is probably age ... I don't recover from anything as fast as I used to. But part of it is just that my body now knows better.

I wonder if I used to always feel that crappy and just wasn't aware of it?

Back on track today. Gratefully.

Dead Last

Race weekend, here in CCville. My first 10K of the year and, in fact, my first race since my half last year. I knew given the circumstances I wouldn't be fast.

But I wasn't psychologically prepared for dead last. 

Here's how it unfolded. 

Jim signed up to do the 5K earlier this spring. You might remember me saying he was going to do the Couch to 5K training program and I was going to be head-cheerleader-slash-motivating-coach-slash-trying-to-grow-my-own-running-partner-supporting-wife. 

And his C25K training lasted approximately 3 weeks. 

But he insisted he was still going to attempt it on race day. So we went. 

The plan was to run as far and as hard as he could, walk to gather up steam, then run again. You know, intervals. At the 5K turnaround, I was going to bid him adieu and continue walking the whole 10K route. 

The 10K group left the starting gate first and I let them go. A few minutes later, the 5K group took off with Jim and I in the back. 

I could tell right away that it was going to be a painful running day. We probably ran half of the 1.55 miles to the turnaround. With a quick kiss, he was gone and I decided to see if I could run to the 10K turnaround, another 1.55 miles. 

It was miserable. My lungs were good, my brain was good. My knee was not. 

I powered through to the turnaround,  trying to keep from crying with every step. Then I walked for a bit. And when a few people started to pass me, I couldn't take it any more and ran again. 

But by then, I was really far behind. As I rounded the corner to the finish line, I could see that they were already giving out awards to the fast people. Wah wah wah. 

I checked the results last night. 

I was dead last in my age group. It took me 1:06 to go 6.2 miles. I'm capable of 54-56 minutes in a normal training run. I would normally hope for faster in a race.

Dead last is not my favorite thing. It pisses me off. It makes me sad. 

And it reminds me that I still did it faster than everyone on the couch.

Johnson Road Hill

Holy Hill. And, yes, the quality of this photo is awful.
But it's from my phone and getting closer would mean
stopping at the bottom to take the photo. In other words,
no momentum for the climb. I may be dumb, but I'm not stupid.

Today was the day.

This is Johnson Road. And it's not in the best of shape. It's out in the sticks and there's a rather pungent dairy farm on it. It's been on my bike route for the past month. I've been riding down it (toward you in this photo) and I'm always a bit on edge when I do.

I apologize for the quality of this photo ... it's from my phone and I tried to enlarge the hill part. I hope you can see that it's a steep mother, and flying down it the first few times scared me. I white knuckle my rear brake and pray for a few things:

1. That a car full of not-paying-attention texting, drunk kids doesn't crest the hill, come up behind me and not see me;
2. That my front tire doesn't get stuck in the horribly cracked pavement, launching me over the handlebars, and;
3. That a  rabbit or deer or snake or chipmunk doesn't decide to dart across my path and knock me ass over applecart.

So far, it's been OK.

But today was the day to turn the tables and climb the hill.

Every once in awhile you just need to stretch your limits and see what you can do.

Was it pretty? Nope. Did I use every single gear I have? Yup. Was I huffing and puffing and sweating profusely at the top? Hell to the yeah.

But I did it.

I gathered my courage. I psyched myself up. And I climbed.

And it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. It almost got shorter and less steep as I got closer.

The feeling at the top is pretty nice, too. I did that. Just me. And my crappy knee. And my lovely quads. And the fire down deep inside that keeps me pushing forward.

Moral of the story? We're all capable of more than we think. And we never know just how much we're capable of until we try.

What is YOUR hill today? I think you can climb it.

Make the Miracle

“The miracle isn't that I finished. The miracle is that I had the courage to start.” ~John Bingham, No Need for Speed: A Beginner's Guide to the Joy of Running 

Remember, it doesn't matter how far or how fast you go. It doesn't matter what you do. It doesn't matter if it is better than the day before.

It matters that you go. That you move. That you get there. 

When I was in 8th grade, the coach of the high school softball team asked me to come practice with the varsity team. He wanted me to pitch. He gave me a section of a brick wall, with a square taped off that represented a strike zone. He told me to pitch and land the ball in that square. 

I could do it when I was throwing slowly. The minute I tried to throw harder, I stopped hitting the square. 

"Accuracy is the most important thing, Miss Daisy," he said. "Speed will come later." 

I think of that a lot when I'm lifting what is probably a small amount of weight. Or running what I know is a slow pace or a short distance. I don't have to be "the best" at this out of the gate. I just have to get TO the gate and THROUGH the gate. The rest will come later ... as long as I keep getting TO and THROUGH the gate. 

http://www.johnbingham.com/index.php

Mmmmm ... Pancakes!

Cravings.

Cravings suck. And I'm in the middle of one of the biggest and most unusual craving spurts.

All I want is sugary, warm carbs. I want pancakes. And French toast. And gooey, frosted cinnamon rolls. Apple fritters? Sure! Or fresh-out-of-the-oven chocolate chip cookies ... sigh.

Of course, a big bowl of cereal would work. Pretzels with strawberry cream cheese. Toast with peanut butter and jelly. Or Nutella. Or all three.

(I actually melted Nutella and peanut butter together last week and dripped it on popcorn, for goodness sake.)

Here's the thing. I don't like pancakes. Or doughnuts. I mean, I'll eat them if they're in front of me, but I never go out of my way to get them, rarely order them in a restaurant or dream about them.

But now I'm doing all three. Well, I'm trying NOT to do those things, but I'm failing.

Now, it would be great to crave broccoli. And, in fact, I have in the past. It usually follows a bout of "bad" eating or vacation eating when my body just knows that it needs fresh, clean food.

Logically, then, you'd think that the opposite could be true--that I must be eating soooooo clean that my body wants the crap! That's a nice thought, though completely untrue. I'm not eating particularly well at the moment.

So what do I do?

I chew a lot of gum. I drink more water. I exercise, because I can't exercise and eat at the same time. Occasionally, I give in, but when I do, I try to control the situation. Don't buy a bag of Chips Ahoy or a tube of cinnamon rolls. Buy a 2-pack of cookies from the cafeteria or split a cinnamon roll with Jim.

And then I spend a whole bunch of time telling myself that the craving is all in my head. Because it is.  Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

What do you do? And do you heat the syrup in the microwave or serve it straight out of the fridge?

Hot Favorite Things

1. Cottage cheese and fruit for a snack. I like cut the mixture with pineapple, blueberries and strawberries.
2. Bourbon balls and mint juleps.
3. Lettuce wraps ... iceberg instead of bagel thins, tortillas, etc.
4. Pink grapefruit flavored carbonated water.
5. Light Chocolate Soy Milk after a run/ride.

It's Addicting

I had a great weekend.

A. Great. Weekend!

Not only because I tried a new restaurant. Not only because I went on a silly adventure Saturday morning. Not only because I spent Sunday with those I love most, being silly, laughing and talking and being part of an ensemble cast in a hilarious iPad movie.

But also because I got two great workouts in. The sun! The wind! The music! The miles! The fresh air! The sore muscles! The tulips in bloom!

I'm so hooked! I can't get enough. I want more.

I spent most of today trying to figure out how I can take every day off of work this week (without affecting my PTO, of course) to hang out in the glorious daylight and get some serious sweating in. I want to walk every morning. And then I want to ride my bike every afternoon.

Of course, I can't. I probably overdid it a bit this weekend ... still a little sore today.

But I want to. It feels good to know I'm doing something good. Doing something good makes me want to do one more thing good. And so on. In fact, that feeling is just as powerful as the one that makes me want to eat one brownie ... and then another one ... and another one.

It's so much better for me, too.

Baby, I'm a Firework!

Cliff notes: 

I ran a mile!

I wore my iPod!

It was good! OK, it was so far beyond good, it's not funny. 

Longer version, if you have time: 

I set out this afternoon with the intent of walking five miles. My knee felt OK, I ate part of a cinnamon roll at breakfast to make the longer miles necessary and it was too windy to ride my bike. 

I don't normally wear music because I traverse a 55 mph road and it's just not safe. But today I decided to stay off that road and thought I might need an extra boost. I just wasn't feeling it, if you know what I mean. 

Walking my quarter-mile warm-up, I still wasn't feeling it. The sun was trying to come out, but not there yet. I was thinking about where I was a year ago ... and how far away I was from it. I could feel that old  "poor me" creeping in as I thought about the 6-, 8- and 10-mile runs I was doing a mere 52 weeks earlier.  I start crying. Bawling, really. It's just all falling out of me. 

And then Katy Perry jumped in. 

Do you ever feel like a plastic bag

Drifting through the wind, wanting to start again?
Do you ever feel, feel so paper thin
Like a house of cards, one blow from caving in?

(I want to start again ...)

Do you ever feel already buried deep six feet under?
Scream but no one seems to hear a thing
Do you know that there's still a chance for you
'Cause there's a spark in you?

(There IS a spark in me. Look, my feet are moving faster in time with the music ....)

You just gotta ignite the light and let it shine
Just own the night like the 4th of July

'Cause, baby, you're a firework
Come on, show 'em what you're worth
Make 'em go "Oh, oh, oh"
As you shoot across the sky-y-y

(Laughing? Really? Now I'm laughing? I look like a firework in this neon yellow shirt. Think I could run?) 

You don't have to feel like a wasted space
You're original, cannot be replaced
If you only knew what the future holds
After a hurricane comes a rainbow

(Is my "hurricane" over? Is there a rainbow? Ironic how the sun comes out just now.)

Maybe you reason why all the doors are closed
So you could open one that leads you to the perfect road
Like a lightning bolt, your heart will glow
And when it's time you'll know

And I run. I run for one glorious mile. Up a little hill, down the same hill. I'm not winded. I'm also not fast. In fact, a slower mile may have never been run. But I ran. 

The music keeps coming. 

Every song is pushing me on. I decide to turn this into a long walk just as, "I'm Sexy and I Know It" pops in my ears. 

Now I'm smiling. The sun is shining. The wind is blowing. I'm inventing unbelievably fantastic choreography that goes with this:

 

Ah girl look at that body

Look at that body

Look at that body
I work out!

When I walk in the spot, this is what I see
Everybody stops and they staring at me,
I got passion in my pants,
And I ain't afraid to show it (show it, show it, show it)
I'm sexy and I know it...
I'm sexy and I know it
... and all is right with the world. Eight and a half miles. Finally.

(I bet my neighbors were wondering what sort of apoplectic fit that crazy walking woman was having.) 

Sweat Wash

I was a good girl this morning. I hopped up with my alarm, slammed on my workout gear, and headed to the basement for a 45-minute bike ride in the wee, dark hours of the morning.

Now that my road bike is in the garage, my hybrid Gary Fisher bike is in the trainer. I love my hybrid bike. I know the gears without thinking, it has "shocks" so it bounces in a fun way, and the sofa seat is comfy.

But because it's been in the shed for the whole winter, Gary is a bit dirty. Really dusty. A better owner, one who cared about Gary, would have at least wiped him down before confining him to the basement. It's like telling your husband that he has to take you to a fancy dinner, without allowing him to shower after a day spent laying sod.

There's one particularly dirty spot. It's on the top of the frame and the three cables that run the two shifters and rear brake run down it.

As I pedal, and especially when I speed up during my "fast" intervals, I stare at that spot. My head is down, I'm concentrating on my breathing, trying not to think about how my legs are burning. The more I stare at the spot, the more it bothers me. 

Well, it did bother me. Until I figured out a way to clean it. 

You see, the more I pedal, the more I sweat. As the sweat falls off my forehead, I start playing "Bomb the dirt," aiming for that spot. 

I'm sure I look like a total dork, bobbing and weaving to line up my dripping forehead, nose and chin so that my sweat will clean the spot. 

But who cares? No one is watching. 

Successes and Failures This Week

My intentions this week were as follows:

1. Harder than normal workouts, since my knee was feeling better.
2. No carbs, no fake food, no processed crap.
3. Every other day strength routine.

My results this week, so far:
1. I'm going to give myself a solid B on this one. Saturday I got a 4-ish mile walk in ... farther than I have gone in a long time. Sunday brought sunshine, another nice walk and a really good bike ride. Monday I did weights in the morning and rode in the afternoon. Tuesday I took a really long bike ride. Wednesday, I did weights again in the morning and walked after work. And today I gave my knee a break and just did strength this afternoon. I'm liking the morning/afternoon combination when the weather cooperates.

2. Ooooh. This one is a C, maybe a C-. I quickly adjusted the the "no" carbs rule to accommodate my morning bagel thin ... so it turned into "no carbs after breakfast." And I failed at that, too. I have successfully avoided bread, crackers, pretzels, tortillas, chips, cereal and Fiber One bars. I have NOT avoided chocolate, raisins, bread and butter pickles, did I say chocolate?, four maraschino cherries, chocolate and one bourbon ball. Oh, and a mint julep after my rotten day.

3. B- here. I slept in two mornings that should have been spent lifting. But when I did lift, I got good workouts in.

And now I'm here, dying to break into a handful of pretzels. I have never gotten a D. And I don't want to start now.

Shameless Product Promotion: Water Mix-Ins

I am trying to keep up this water drinking thing. The goal is half of my body weight in ounces every day.

So for those of you (OK, for me) who aren't mathematicians, it works like this:

You weigh 100 lbs. Half of 100 is 50. That's 50 ounces of water.

And I weigh more than 100 lbs.

But I'm not a big fan of water. I'll drink it from a bottle, but I can't justify paying for water in a bottle, nor am I crazy about the environmental impacts of all those empties. I just don't care for it from a glass. Well, a GLASS glass is OK, but not a plastic or paper cup. I just can't do it. (This makes no sense, I know, since I'm willing to drink it from a plastic bottle, but not a plastic cup. Don't judge.)

So, to get all that water down, I'm testing water mix-ins.

My criteria? I prefer the natural flavors vs. the artificial ones. I like both powder and liquid. I don't like berry (strawberry/blueberry/mixed berry) because I don't find berry flavors to be thirst quenching ... they're too sweet.

My two absolute favorites? One has berry in the name and both contain artificial flavors. So ... so much for my so-called standards. Drink Mix-In Whore!

1. The powder packets of Ocean Spray White Cranberry Peach. Five calories per serving, but yummy.
2. The liquid squeeze bottle of Crystal Light Peach Bellini, again, five calories per serving. It's like having a cocktail in the middle of the workday.

What are your favorites?

It Ain't a Cure ...But It's a Damn Good Drug

I've said it a zillion times. And I'm going to hit it again.

Exercise won't fix all the crap in your life. But it sure won't hurt. And, it just might help you handle it with a clearer mind and an even keel.

Today was one of those days for me. Wavering between ready to bawl my eyes out and ready to take someone's head off.

I screwed up first thing this morning. I knew today was going to suck. And I skipped my morning sweat because I was "tired." Yeah, tired because I stayed up too late last night, trying to cram in just one more thing as my brain was already starting to race in anticipation of what I knew would be a challenging 8 hours.

Skipping the workout meant I didn't blow off the appropriate steam. I didn't get myself centered. I didn't have that hour to mentally prepare myself. And by noon, as I could have predicted, I was ready to come apart.

I'm lucky that when I have one of these days, I can leave. I don't do it often. But I'm grateful I can. (I'd be a terrible teacher or doctor or toll booth attendant. Or, I guess, I'd just be a fired teacher or doctor or toll booth attendant.)

So leave, I did, before anyone saw me cry and before I said something I'd regret. I finished my workday on my back deck, in the sun, radio on.

And then I hopped on my bike and rode. I rode for about 90 minutes ... 22 miles. Just me and the road and the wind and the gears and the hills and the yellow lab that tried to take me down.

He couldn't. I was too fast and yelled too loud and was too ... in the zone.

The 22 miles doesn't change anything. I get to go back and face it all tomorrow.

But I'll face it with a clearer head and a more even keel.

Can you hear Huey Lewis now?


I want a new drug 
One that won't make me sick 
One that won't make me crash my car 
Or make me feel three feet thick 

Shifting Gears

Spring is finally here! A change in the weather has brought a change in my attitude and a change in my routine.

It's about damn time.

I am officially walking. Did you hear me? I. Am. Officially. WALKING!!!!! This makes me very happy!  My knee is holding up and I'm taking it easy, trying very hard to not rush things. I've gone about 4 miles with no ill effects. My new goal is to walk/run the Habitat for Humanity 5K on May 19 with Jim.

We're almost 6 weeks out from the injections and maybe, just maybe, those orthopedic professionals knew what they were talking about when they said, "Give it 4-6 weeks to start working." Leave it to me/my knee to wait until the last possible second to kick in, right? Two weeks ago I was ready to give up. I'm the most surprised person in the room and I'm knocking on everything wood within reach right now.

(And don't tell anyone, but I ran for about a quarter of a mile on Sunday. It felt unbelievably clunky, heavy and uncoordinated ... far more like lumberjack than gazelle. But I'm going to get there. Come hell or high water, I'm going to get there.)

I am also finally outside riding my bike. My NEW bike! After a winter of practice in the basement, I hit the real road this past week and then got a longer ride in this weekend. It's slick. Really slick. There are some major differences between it and my hybrid, the biggest being just how smooth and easy it is to climb and how fast it feels to coast.

I've had to get used to the placement and functioning of the brakes and shifters, and I'm reprogramming my brain in hopes that it becomes a bit more automatic quickly. The narrow tires and stiff suspension are more unforgiving than my nubby fat wheels and shock absorbing frame, but I feel like I'm flying and that is just plain fun.

I'm getting used to all of it. Adjusting. One more time. And I'm learning a few things.

1. It's easier to make smooth transitions when you've had a little practice making transitions. Whether it's modifying workouts to work around injuries or simply downshifting to get up a literal or figurative hill, the more you do it, the better you are at it.
2. Shifting early is better than shifting late. In other words, plan. Be aware of your surroundings. Prepare for the course. And take it head on. Take charge instead of waiting and make your move.
3. Even on the downhill part of the ride or the run, there can be strong headwinds. And that means you have to keep shifting, keep pedaling and keep moving forward.

It's all about moving forward. Right?

(And, thank you, Jim, for my new bike. I love it! And riding it on the actual road is a zillion times better than riding it in the basement! And thank you to Juan Carlos, too, for making it all work!)

Water

I think I mentioned that a friend had started a Facebook group for a few friends who were looking for a place to talk about losing weight. She was issuing weekly challenges and one, a few weeks back, was to drink more water.

To the tune of 64-80 ounces a day.

For me it was hard at first. I wasn't used to drinking 64 ounces of anything and I peed a lot. A LOT.

I've been trying to keep up the sloshing as the weeks have gone by. Here's what I have noticed:

• The more I drink the thirstier I am. 
• My skin doesn't feel different.
• I am still peeing. A LOT. They say your body gets used to it. I say, "Bullshit." 

Honestly, that's about it. I don't know if I'm doing something good because I just can't tell. I don't feel any different.

And, I'd still rather have a Cherry Coke Zero.

Stomach Trouble

What's your least favorite body part? Do you have an area that just doesn't respond to the whole eating healthy and working out thing like you would prefer it to?

Miss Daisy received a question from someone asking how to get rid of the dreaded middle. I call mine "The pooch." It's the nemesis of former pregnant ladies everywhere. Well, except for that giraffe-like model/volleyball player who was in the news recently for a quote from her new book that says she is submissive to her husband/professional surfer dude with the funny name. But I digress ...)

These are the things I do to tame my tummy:

• Planks. Lots of planks. Planks with straight arms, bent arms, and planks moving between the two. Planks where I move my legs in and out, up and down. Planks. 
• Sit-ups on the biggest exercise ball. Repeat 500 times.
• Ordinary crunches.
• Push ups (which are planks with motion)
• Jillian's Give It To God pose ... Lay on the floor on your back, pick your feet and head off the ground so you are shaped like a banana. Turn your palms up toward the sky and Give It To God
• Table lifts. Sit on the floor with your legs straight out. Put your hands at your sides and push up on your palms to lift your butt off the ground. Rock your hips forward/upward to make a table with your body, your tummy/hips being the table top and your arms/legs being the support. Rock back down, repeat.
• Side lifts. Lay on your left side, one foot on top of the other. Put your weight on your left elbow and lift your right hip toward the sky. Go up and down like this, not resting on the floor, for as long as you can.  
• Butt lift 1. Lay on the floor, knees bent, feet flat on the floor. Lift hips up and down. I do this with a 15 or 20-lb. weight on my pelvis. 
• Butt lift 2. Lay on back, put hands under your butt and legs straight up in the air. Lift butt off of ground as your feet go higher. 

What do YOU do? I'd love to hear. 

Just Eight Pounds

I talked to someone today who had what I thought was really good news: She was down eight pounds.

She said "just" eight pounds or "only" eight pounds as if it wasn't quite worthy of a mention. 

HELLO! Eight pounds is a BIG DAMN DEAL!

Eight pounds means what you're doing is working. It means that you have made a promise and commitment to yourself and you're sticking to it. It means that you have learned how to do something that works for you and now you know you CAN do it. 

Eight pounds is more than a great beginning. It's just great ... all on its own. 

And, eight pounds should be celebrated. As should 15 (from another reader). And three (me). And one. You should be proud of what you've done and you should have the confidence to continue if that's what you want. You did it. Just you. All you. 

Every pound healthier is a step in the right direction.

I say strike up the band, kiddo! Keep on keepin' on. And if you ever want to walk or ride, let me know!