Results

First, for Jeannie, I responded to your comment in the comments from today's previous post.

Dr. C called today to report that all my lab values were "within normal ranges." Someone from the office was supposed to fax me the actual pages so I could look at the actual numbers, but no one has done it yet. I think I'll send them to Wendy to analyze after I get them. Heh.

A few posts ago, Jonathan said maybe the best thing would be to just put it all aside for a bit. I'm going to take his advice. I feel like I don't have any other options at this point.

Since this is a weight-loss blog, and there's no weight loss going on, I'm going to put this aside for a while, as well. I'll update my times after I complete the Army Ten-Miler and the Raleigh Half, and I might go in and update knitting progress. But there's just no point in trying to pump myself up and be cheerful, or even not-cheerful, about something at which I'm such a failure.

It takes a couple weeks for an antidepressant's effects to kick in; maybe I'll feel like checking in next month. But I kind of feel like Beth must have felt when she stopped writing. I really missed Beth for a long, long time. I've kept the link to her blog in my sidebar because she gave me so much hope for such a long time.

I just don't feel like doing this any more.

War has been waged over water

At least that's what my husband says, every time we have to write another check to repair something so that we can enjoy a daily shower.

I did get my run in [and my daily shower] before the repairmen came yesterday morning, and a forceful stream of water is once again coursing through the veins of our spliced water line. Paul – it's really kind of a shame when you're on a first-name basis with the guy who installed your water pump – informed me that there was a thicker water pipe available now, but since we paid an ungodly amount of money for the current water line, I just thanked him for sharing.

Still don't have blood test results back. It's been a week. Apparently the way our insurance works is that if the hospital lab analyzes my blood, we have to pay out of pocket. If the hospital sends my blood out to a particular – and apparently slow – lab, the insurance pays for it. At least until October 1, when a new and definitely not improved plan kicks in. I feel like going back to the doctor and asking him to order all kinds of fancy-schmancy tests, to take advantage of this previously unknown-to-me benefit.

I favor the healthcare reform proposed by the good folks at Physicians for a National Health Plan. [You don't have to be a physician to join, and non-physicians only pay $40 for a year's membership. Hint, hint.] I'm not articulate enough to explain their plan here, so I hope you'll click over and then ask your congressional representative to endorse HR676.

Hillary's proposal is all over the news this week, and I happened to catch some of Rush Limbaugh's commentary yesterday afternoon. [I'm a reformed Republican; now I listen to Rush to see what the "other side" is up to.]

Frankly, I would think Rush and his ilk would be supporting the Dems' proposals, as they all [except Kucinich] endorse a plan that hands insurance companies a goose on a golden platter. Sounds like it would be pretty good for big business.

One of these days my husband and I will have to decide whether to pay an insurance premium … or Paul, the water guy.

Bye-bye, food blog

The astute among you will already have noticed the link to my food blog is gone, as is the blog itself. It was a two-week experiment, useful insofar as I learned my metabolism is, indeed, boots-up. The good Dr. C duly noted that I eat reasonably healthful foods in reasonable amounts; that's really why I kept the log. I'm glad to not be doing it any longer; I already log my food in CalorieKing, and it was getting kind of cumbersome to copy/paste the data from that log and then format it for the food blog.

I lifted weights yesterday. Three sets, 15 reps, eight pounds, six different moves, plus some bench work and 60 crunches. I think I'm ready to bump the weight up to 10 pounds. No other strenuous activity took place, unless you count knitting.

I had taken a donate-to-charity mitten project with me to work on over the weekend, because mittens are portable and easy. The wife of a couple we know said mittens are hard to find; she and her husband have been looking all over for them. Seems mittens these days are being made as half-mittens with a flap that you can flip back so you can use your fingers. Her husband wants plain, old-fashioned mittens. So now that the charity pair is done, I'm making a pair for him.

Before we left last Friday our neighbor came up the driveway on his four-wheeler to ask how our water was doing. He'd found a leak in our line. Bingo! We had noticed a slight reduction in water pressure, so I called the repair guys and asked to be put on the non-emergency schedule. They should be here today. Since I have to wait for them to either call or show up, I'm stuck not running this morning. Also? If something happens and they don't get the line fixed, I would be stuck not being able to shower. Not showering after a run is not a good look for me.

Meaning I'll have to do my easy three-miler later this afternoon, but probably tomorrow.

I was supposed to do 19 miles last week [also this week]; I ended up with 21.2. I should be able to match or exceed 21 this week, especially if these lovely cool mornings hang around for a while longer. And they should – it is September in the mountains in the Middle of Nowhere, after all.

Monday Quote Day

Continuous effort –
not strength or intelligence –
is the key to unlocking our potential.
~ Winston Churchill

No, I'm not adding a quote day or switching from Friday to Monday. But quote days are easy and I'm still in weekend mode, so I'm just making up for last Friday when I was gone.

Hi! I'm back! Still don't have any blood test results to report on. I should get them today.

I was practicing continuous effort this weekend, even though I told myself I would relax. I was so happy to be someplace with a long, smoothly paved surface, in weather that was about as close to perfect as you could get, that it was easy to get out and run both Saturday and Sunday mornings. So the effort I put in was targeted toward speed.

But since we were just one state away, the topography is similar to ours. The hills weren't quite as steep, nor quite as long, but there were there, and, as always, that's what slows me down.

I did seven miles in 92 minutes Saturday morning and 5.2 miles in 65 minutes Sunday morning. I was supposed to have done an easy two-mile run Saturday and an eight-miler Sunday. Bad Debbi!

Not really bad. I felt good enough running that I just didn't want to stop. Let's hope I feel like that for the Army Ten-Miler!

I relaxed a bit with food, but not much. It's hard to just throw caution to the wind and eat whatever you like after a lifetime of eating carefully. Those of you just starting out on an intuitive eating program probably know how this feels. That's a big reason I haven't wandered down the IE path. I imagine I would feel pretty frustrated at not being able to do that right, either!

Anyway, the weekend was relaxing and enjoyable and now it's over. We're already looking forward to next year. I hope your weekend was just as nice.

Blog break

Except for the length of time I spent at the doctor's office and hospital yesterday, all went well. Dr. C totally got it that my frustration level was at the bursting point. He didn't doubt for a minute that I was eating reasonable amounts of healthy food or that I was running and working out like a crazy person.

Heh.

I was most proud of my resting pulse rate – just 62 – and believe me it was resting. I sat in the waiting room for more than an hour and spent another 40 minutes in the examination room before I spoke with Dr. C himself.

We discussed symptoms, feelings, diet, exercise – the only topics we missed were religion or politics – and he ordered lots of blood tests to rule out/confirm anemia and hypothyroidism. He also started me on an antidepressant.

I feel better just by being proactive about the whole thing. I'll be one of those people wailing about wasting all that time trying to snap out of it on my own, when the answer was to simply admit I had a problem I couldn't solve, and ask for help from someone who could.

Thanks again for all your comments. I appreciate all of you so much.

I didn't have much time to run outside yesterday so I hopped on the treadmill for the two-mile easy run I was supposed to have done Tuesday. Today is seven miles of speedwork, but I'm not going to worry my pretty little head about hitting a 10:59 pace for three of those miles. I'm going to do seven miles on my hilly road and call it done, and I'll be sure to fly down the hills and on the flats.

I'll be away from the computer until Monday ... I hope everyone has a great weekend. If you're racing, may you post a new personal best and if you're training may the temperatures be moderate and the humidity low.

Thank you, thank you, thank you

It is so cool to learn one is not alone, even in cyberspace. Thank you for sharing your own experiences with depression and, more importantly, taking drugs to manage it. I'm a recovering alcoholic, and we don't generally think taking mood-altering drugs is such a great idea, which is probably why I've tried to soldier on on my own for such a long time.

Coming out of this particular closet has been a double-edged sword. It's a relief to finally just let the tension and anxiety of it whoosh right out of me. Naming it, acknowledging it, offers some freedom from it, and having a plan to manage it offers even more.

But I also find myself not fighting it at all, which means I'm caving in to the fatigue. I did absolutely nothing yesterday. Nothing. At. All. Last week I could force myself to, oh, run the dustmop or take the trash out. This week? Not so much.

The garbage gets picked up later this morning, so I got up early this morning to drag the bag down the driveway. Does that count as aerobic activity? Heh.

There hasn't been much shrinking going on around here lately, but I am knitting. I ran out of yarn with one sleeve to go on the charity sweater, so I had to rip it all out and make a hat and mitten set instead. Then I pulled out a couple balls of beige wool and started these socks. [Except I'm doing them toe-up instead of cuff-down, and I did short-row heels instead of flap-and-gusset heels. You knitters will know what I'm talkin' about.] I'm going to give them to my AA sponsor, who is recovering from foot surgery to correct plantar fasciitis.

What would we runners do if our occasional bouts of plantar fasciitis got so bad we had to have surgery? Perish the thought.

Yesterday I was supposed to run two easy miles. See paragraph three, above. I'll make up for that today, come hell or high water. [In addition to yesterday's incredible fatigue, it also rained – rained! – most of the day, so that was another good-enough reason to shift the schedule around.] Fall is creeping into the mountains here; we couldn't be more pleased to see green leaves turning yellow and red as they float down to land on the crunchy brown grass.

Today is my doctor appointment. I'm looking forward to having some blood drawn. Actually, what I'm looking forward to is doing something about the way I've been feeling.

Thanks again for all your kind words. You have no idea how much it means to me.

I didn't see it coming

Well, maybe I did. A little.

I've pretty much spent the last week or so napping or sleeping. Or napping. Or playing computer solitaire. Are you getting the picture here? It helps to be married to a shrink, who has confirmed the diagnosis.

I'm depressed. Clinically. We went over the pharmaceutical options together, and when I go to my doctor on Wednesday I'll be requesting not only a thryoid test but also a complete blood count [to rule out anemia] and some Wellbutrin.

Last week's running schedule was, thankfully, a light one. I was supposed to run four days for a total of just 13 miles; I did 17 in three. I can't imagine how I would feel if I weren't releasing at least a couple of endorphins by running.

I've been forcing myself to post here every day, but I don't think I can keep it up on an every-day basis until I start feeling better. I'll be out of town this weekend, so a longish break is in the offing anyway. And the weekend event is a spiritual retreat – perfect timing, doncha think?

And now, for something completely different …

You may have seen these before; I hadn't. While I'm mostly against pharmaceutical companies creating lifestyle drugs for fun and profit, some of these have real potential.

DAMNITOL
Take 2 and the rest of the world can go to hell for up to 8 full hours.

EMPTYNESTROGEN
Suppository that eliminates melancholy and loneliness by reminding you of how awful they were as teenagers and how you couldn't wait till they moved out.

ST. MOMMA'S WORT
Plant extract that treats mom's depression by rendering preschoolers unconscious for up to two days.

PEPTOBIMBO
Liquid silicone drink for single women. Two full cups swallowed before an evening out increases breast size, decreases intelligence, and prevents conception.

DUMBEROL
When taken with Peptobimbo, can cause dangerously low IQ, resulting in enjoyment of eating raw vegetables and dieting.

FLIPITOR
Increases life expectancy of commuters by controlling road rage and the urge to flip off other drivers.

MENICILLIN
Potent anti-boy-otic for older women. Increases resistance to such lethal lines as, "You make me want to be a better person."

BUYAGRA
Injectable stimulant taken prior to shopping Increases potency, duration, and credit limit of spending spree.

JACKASSPIRIN
Relieves headache caused by a man who can't remember your birthday, anniversary, phone number, or to lift the toilet seat.

ANTI-TALKSIDENT
A spray carried in a purse or wallet to be used on anyone too eager to share their life stories with total strangers in elevators.

NAGAMENT
When administered to a boyfriend or husband, provides the same irritation level as nagging him.

A rare Saturday quote day

Many people fail in life,
not for lack of ability or brains or even courage
but simply because they have never organized
their energies around a goal.
~ Elbert Hubbard

Your comments on Thursday are most appreciated.

Many of you had never visited here before; most of the hits I've gotten the last two days were from referrals after PastaQueen included a link in her blog. So, welcome! And I hope you'll come back!

What I'm about to say is going to make me sound terminally unique, and that's not my intent. But here goes.

I'm not a young, athletic woman in the middle of my reproductive years. Those days are long gone and, in fact, I've never been what one would call 'athletic.' What I'm left with now is a sluggish body that doesn't move as easily as it used to. Nor does it burn calories efficiently, if at all. Nearly everyone puts on a little weight as he or she ages; I'm certainly no exception there.

As a middle-aged, postmenopausal, mostly sedentary woman, my body doesn't respond to regimens of eating and exercising the way younger bodies do. If you – you youngsters out there – hit a plateau, you can try all the suggestions you gave me and something will, most likely, work.

I've tried them, not in the very recent past, but I did last winter, with no success. What I learned is that if I eat more, I gain more weight. If I take an exercise break, I gain more weight. And I'm worse off than if I'd just stayed on the plateau.

Now the down side of staying on the plateau is that it absolutely wrecks my mental and emotional health. And that's where I've been for quite a while now. I'm not sure what to do about it.

I liked Jonathan's suggestion best: He thought I might find some peace if I quit banging my head against the wall and just stopped for a bit. Honestly, though? I don't know how to do that. Whether I eat poorly or well, I'm conscious of making choices and counting things up and dreading the next time I weigh myself. I've been fighting this fight for most of my life.

I don't know how to stop, but oh, how I wish I did. My head is bloody from the beating I've given it. Not to mention the wall.

Blog break

Thank you all so much for your recent comments. I just realized I won't be here tomorrow for an in-depth analysis or for Friday Quote Day. Mr. Shrinking Knitter needs a chauffeur [did I spell that right?] beginning at oh-dawn-thirty.

I'll be back Saturday.

A smidge of progress

If you're just joining us here, the Shrinking Knitter has been keeping a precise count of calories in/calories out for the past two weeks. After week one, she experienced a net weight gain of two pounds. It's now the end of week two, and one of those pounds has vanished!

Can you believe it? Me, neither. Heh. Here's the breakdown:

Week One: 1258 calories eaten, 438 calories burned, 48 minutes daily activity
Week Two: 1245 calories eaten, 449 calories burned, 51 minutes daily activity

I'm going to micromanage this for one more week, so I'll have three weeks of data to present to the doctor.

It's not worth it, y'all. If I have to work this hard to lose half a pound a week, I might as well go have a hot fudge sundae and say the hell with it.

After I run, of course. I crack myself up.

This is a cutback week in my training program, but I think instead of today's scheduled "easy" three miles I'll just head out the front door and do the 6.6- or 7.3- or whatever-it-is-loop again. I've got the Shuffle culled down to 90 minutes of tunes with a true running tempo. Maybe that'll help me get all the way up the hills.

Here's something you probably don't know about me [this has nothing to do with weight loss]. The plane Steve Fossett was flying when he disappeared Monday is a souped-up version of the one I got my pilot's license in. Yes, I'm a licensed private pilot, single-engine, land, but not current [meaning I would not be permitted to take a passenger up with me, since it's been so long since I've had a flight physical or check ride].

I was 29 or 30 when I started taking flying lessons in my dad's Bellanca Citabria ["airbatic" spelled backwards, which means the plane was designed to do loops and rolls and spins, oh my!]. Fossett's Bellanca Decathlon is the Citabria's big brother, with a more powerful engine and an inverted fuel system, so it can actually fly upside-down. The Citabria couldn't do that for more than a few seconds before the engine would quit.

We called the plane the "City Brat." Here's what it looked like:

Dad sold the plane when he moved to Florida 11 years ago; I moved to West Virginia shortly after that, and I haven't been pilot in command since. It makes me kind of nervous to fly commercial because I like to see what's going on out the front window, not the side! I guess the flying chapter of my life is over, but it makes for nice memories.

P.S. I forgot to tell Wendy that no, I don't count out 48 pretzel sticks for a serving, but I do weigh them in a container on my food scale. Aren't I a good little weight watcher?

A nip in the air

When I left the prison last night, the sky was black, the stars were out and there was a definite nip of fall in the air. Today's temperatures will still feel like summer, but relief is on the way. It's September, after all!

I ate a bunch o' crap yesterday; just couldn't seem to stop grazing. I was able to rein it in under the calorie limit, thanks to a "clean" kitchen – for the most part, my pantry and refrigerator are junk-food-free – but my nutrition was way off. Only 13% protein and 50% fat. Not a good combo. And it didn't even taste that great.

When you get into a grazing mood, it really doesn't matter how food tastes, does it? Just so it's food.

Since I'm Garmin-less, I have to rely on my car's odometer to determine my mileage. I've double-checked the flat roads at MapMyRun, and the odometer is correct. But when I used MMR to check the 6.6-mile loop I do on the road on which I live, it came out to 7.3 miles. Can hills make that much difference? I'd love to use the longer distance – that's an instant improvement in my pace! – but I probably should stay with the more conservative number. It took 94 minutes yesterday to do the loop. I ran halfway up most of the hills, all the way up one and flew down all of them.

PQ, if you're lookin' for hills, we've got 'em! I tried to get the elevation of my road, but … dial-up. Need I say more? Or maybe I'm just getting more impatient the older I get. Heh.

I had the Shuffle with me and made a mental note of the songs that got me moving. Keeping in mind that I'm a. Slow and b. Short, you might find some of these tunes worthy of adding to your playlist:

• Thunder on the Mountain, Bob Dylan
• Elvis Presley Blues, Jimmy Buffett
• Run Like Hell, Pink Floyd
• Pressure, Billy Joel
• Graceland, Paul Simon
• Rain, The Cult
• Real Wild Child, Christopher Otcasek
• Tell Me What the Papers Say, Elton John
• You May Be Right, Billy Joel
• Yours to Keep, Teddybears
• Running Free, Iron Maiden
• Run and Run, Psychedelic Furs
• Run, Run, Run, Velvet Underground
• Running on Empty, Jackson Browne

and one from my daughter's playlist:

• Straw Hat and Old Dirty Hank, Barenaked Ladies

Stealing a technique from the Wendy, I leave you with these most appropriate lyrics from Billy Joel's "Pressure":

You have to learn to pace yourself
Pressure
You're just like everybody else
Pressure
You've only had to run so far
So good
But you will come to a place
Where the only thing you feel
Are loaded guns in your face
And you'll have to deal with
Pressure

I can't think of a good title this morning. Heh.

Wendy was absolutely right in her comment yesterday about continuing to train throughout the winter to get ready for next spring's Country Music Half.

I'd like to routinely run 30 miles a week – every week – for fitness, weight loss and health. The longest week in the current training regimen is only 25, so stretching it to 30 doesn't seem like it would be too hard to achieve. It would be much, much easier if I could run these miles on my own road, instead of having to drive someplace else in order to run on a relatively flat road.

There aren't many truly flat stretches of road in this part of West Virginia.

However. When I first moved here, 10 years ago, I could run a 6.6-mile loop on my very hilly road without stopping. Of course I was a lot younger then, and a lot thinner, but I think – with some discipline – I could work my way back to doing that. I certainly have the motivation; I'd love to just walk down the driveway and start running. And I think that's what I'm going to do today. It's supposed to be an easy four-miler; if I do the 6.6-mile loop I could probably get four running miles in. Is that cheating?

I've taken the Shuffle along with me the last couple of runs. I was seriously annoyed with it Sunday, after about the sixth mile, and turned it off. But it helped keep me focused most of the time and I'll be taking it with me again this morning. I've been trying to remember how I trained the first time, and the Shuffle was a big part of the routine.

Remember how I didn't expect to lose any weight [and didn't] last winter? And remember how I was okay with that? Obviously, I'm not okay with it any more. I didn't restrict calories then as I am now. Simple physics should yield some success in this area: Burn more than you eat and you should shed some weight. It occurred to me yesterday that high humidity isn't the only factor in my having to take so many walking breaks; calorie restriction is certainly playing a role in my lack of stamina.

Yesterday I did a paltry 15 minutes on the rowing machine – paltry because I'd intended to do 30 and just got too bored to finish. But I followed that with 30 quality minutes with the weight bench and dumbbells. And 100 crunches. I was seriously tired and dripping sweat when I finished, so I know it was a productive workout. And, of all things, my triceps hurt. Those kickbacks are killer! Wonder if I'm ready for a bench dip yet – something I've never been able to do.

Every day's a holiday

When you don't work outside the home in a real job, Labor Day – the holiday Americans celebrate today – is just another day. That's how a pessimist would approach the subject.

Because I've been in an emotional slump lately, I deliberately chose the optimist's view for today's title. Mind over matter!

I worked yesterday, well and hard, and feel like I deserve a day off today. Good thing it's a scheduled rest day, right? My long run was supposed to be seven miles but I always run it on a four-mile-long road. Out-and-back is eight miles, that's what I felt like doing and that's what I did. It took for-freaking-ever, but I did it.

I'd hoped, since it was cooler, I could finish in 96 minutes – a 12-minute pace – but it took 102 minutes, so 12:47. The humidity is still the culprit. I can't seem to [insert whispery voice] go the distance [pat yourself on the back if you know what movie that line is from!] without having to gulp for air and walk for a minute every couple of miles.

If I were running fast I wouldn't mind all these walk breaks, but I run like a 56-year-old fat lady. In my mind I'm tall and tan and young and lovely [pat yourself on the back again if you know song that line is from!], pumping my arms effortlessly and covering distance at the speed of light. But in reality I'm huffing and puffing and struggling.

And burning calories! I comfort myself by thinking the longer I'm out there, the more energy I'm using, the more stamina I'm developing, the more my muscles are training to reach farther and at a quicker pace. Because I do try.

I just can't keep it up for any significant length of time.

According to my training log [I use the one at Runner's World's website], in August I ran 69 miles in 15:31:02. That's a 13:49 pace. It's also an average of half an hour of running every day.

Definitely room for improvement.

Oh, well. It's much more pleasant to be running when it's cool, and I'm enjoying it quite a bit more than I did even two weeks ago.

I like running so much that I went ahead and registered for next year's Country Music Half-Marathon. I remember thinking when I finished last year that I probably wouldn't do it again, as the hills are hard, especially at the ninth – or was it the tenth? – mile. But, like labor, time is a great amnesiac.

Different kind of labor, obviously. Have a great holiday!

I rule!

Well, not really. But nearly every time I lift weights, which I do in my garage, I have a mental picture of Lester Burnham in American Beauty. And that, naturally, leads me to think of my favorite line in the whole movie, which is the title of this post.

I don't mind [too much ] that the body-fat scale says I'm 40 percent blubber, now that I've had a day to think about it. I had no trouble at all motivating myself to get out there and pretend to be Lester for half an hour yesterday. I did some bench work and a set of pyramids [two sets of 15-20 reps of six different moves at four and eight pounds, and one set of 10-12 reps of six moves at 12 pounds]. And 40 crunches. And then I ran four miles.

As for the accuracy of the scale, Mr. Shrinking Knitter's measured 25.5 percent; we both agreed that was probably right for him. Bless his heart [can you tell I'm turning Southern?], when I asked him to guess what mine was he said, "Twenty?"

When I said it was 40, he looked as shocked as I did.

I think I'll keep him.

For some reason I don't mind confessing the 40 percent, while I still have a hard time stating my weight. I've never said how much I weigh here on the blog; I've always thought I would divulge my starting weight when I finally reached my goal.

So I guess if you're dying to know how much I weigh, this would be a good time to practice patience, Grasshopper.

The other thing about the accuracy of the number is that it really doesn't matter. It's a benchmark – if I continue to run, do yoga, lift weights and eat healthfully, I should make some downward progress.

Of course I think my weight should go down, as well, and that ain't happening!

My doctor's appointment is in 10 days; I may or may not continue to bore you with my obsession about this. Maybe I'll finally get the kitchen cupboards cleaned out and I'll bore you with that.

What's a blog for, after all? Heh.

I love the 80s

Can you believe this? No 90-degree temperatures are predicted for the next six days!

A lovely cold front whipped through here yesterday afternoon, sending the humidity way down and plunging evening temperatures into the 50s. It was heavenly to walk outside and not feel like you've stepped into a sauna.

I was supposed to do a short, easy run yesterday, but Mr. Shrinking Knitter and I were out the door and on our way to town fairly early. The next couple Fridays are also not going to work out, but I don't mind doing a short run the day before the Sunday long run. And I also will – yes, I will! – do a weight-training session.

After which, it's all-football, all-the-time. Since I'm originally from Ohio, I root for the OSU Buckeyes. And since I've transplanted to West Virginia, and since Mr. Shrinking Knitter went to med school at WVU, I've adopted the Mountaineers, as well. They're ranked third in the country as the season begins, so our hopes are high.

We bought a new scale that calculates body fat yesterday. I'm appalled and dismayed to learn that mine is 40 percent, which is way more than obese. If that's not an incentive to lift more weights, I don't know what is. I'm going to try to check that figure only once a month.

I'd really thought that running 15-plus miles a week for almost a year would have resulted in a lower percentage. Seeing that number, after eating an average of 800 calories a day and running 19 miles and gaining two pounds was the dictionary definition of 'adding insult to injury.'

I guess I don't have a 25-pound stomach tumor after all. Heh.