On my mind

It's the middle of the night, but I can't sleep and neither, apparently, could my dog, who peed on the bedspread, pooped on the carpet and is generally feeling pretty awful, poor thing. She acts embarrassed at her sudden lack of control over her bodily functions. Rather than being annoyed with her, I feel sorry for her.

So the bedspread is in the washer; the mattress pad is next and maybe I'll just take a nice long nap this afternoon. Heh.

How does one flat tire end up costing more than $300? Well, you can't just replace one; you have to do both rear tires if the flat can't be repaired. And since the front tires were close to shot as well, you just whip out the credit card and keep on knitting. They changed an air filter and the oil, as well.

You don't know how many times, Jonathan, I've thought about what you said to me early in my training. You have every right to say, "I told you so," and then some! For those of you late to the party, I discovered that excess weight doesn't melt away when one starts training for a half-marathon. I might have been the last person on the track to know that. Jonathan alerted me first, and I also read it in Marathoning for Mortals. This information came to me in the first few weeks of the training regimen, so I had plenty of time to decide whether to stick with the race plan or work on the weight.

Y'all know which course I chose, and I have no regrets. I learned far more about myself training for and completing the race than I would have had I just slogged along for four months tallying calories in/calories out. [Although I did continue the tallying … old habits die hard.]

So when Jodi commented on Tuesday's post about a slight gain she experienced after beginning a running program, I popped over to learn more about her. She seems to be as dazed and confused with this whole weight-loss crap as many of the rest of us are.

[Not all, though! PastaQueen has a centered, matter-of-fact attitude, with a side of humor thrown in; she's my go-to blog when I find myself sliding toward insanity. She can even bill me if she wants to.]

It would be so nice to go through a day not giving a rat's a$$ about what I eat. I don't mean eating one gooey confection after another; I just mean eating normal amounts of normal food without wishing I could have a gooey confection. And then, after several days [or sometimes just hours] of wishing, going ahead and having it anyway. And then feeling bad about it and drinking a gallon of water to compensate.

The diet mentality can be pretty self-destructive, at times.

I had a crappy, confection-filled day yesterday; can you tell? That's probably why I couldn't sleep. Heck, it's probably why the dog's sick! Maybe it's because my six-mile run was hard and long and hilly [1:27:40, pant, pant]. Maybe I'm self-sabatoging that incredible four-pound drop. [Maybe? Definitely!]

At any rate, today is another day, another opportunity to either Do the Right Thing or Screw Up Royally. Which will it be?

Film at eleven.