Friday Quote Day

Even if you're on the right track,
you'll get run over if you just sit there.
~ Will Rogers

I've been intrigued with M@rla's calorie-counting experiment; her efforts have helped me stay on track a leeeetle better. Nobody's perfect, but I've been journaling my food more consistently and trying to be more active, even on rest days.

Another friend also has been more pro-active about changing her evil eating ways, and being more accountable about it.

I usually don't have much trouble eating healthfully, but this past week was a doozy. Monday and Tuesday were horrible, Wednesday was slightly less so.

Yesterday was pretty darned perfect.

Let's just hope today can be, as well.

I have no more time to blog this morning, but since it's quote day, I'll leave you [hopefully smiling] with yesterday's Quote of the Day from my Google homepage:

Have a great day!

Crossing another old-lady threshold

Yesterday, in addition to the annual smash-o-gram, I had my first bone density test.

My health insurance company had to pre-approve it, even though my doctor felt it was time for one. Y'all know how I feel about health insurance [single-payer universal, anyone?], but the fact that the company will pay without pre-certification if you're 60 made me feel kinda old.

I learned from the woman who administered the test that being post-menopausal but not on hormone replacement therapy are reason enough for a doctor to order the test.

This was certainly the easiest medical test I've ever had done. No sticking, no pinching, no smashing, no blood, no poking, no prodding, no tilting, no bruising – I've had my share of diagnostics. Can you tell? You just lie down on a table with your knees elevated on a big foam block while an x-ray machine kind of wands over your midsection and hips. No biggie. Kind of relaxing, really.

It only measures bone density, so if there are any large tumors in there accounting for the extra weight I'm carrying around I'll have to have a different kind of test to find it. You'd think they'd figure out a way to do a two-fer, but they wouldn't be able to charge for two different tests that way.

Cynical about U.S. health care delivery? Who, me?

Anyway, I'm hoping to learn that the daily 1000 mg of calcium I take, plus running, plus a pitiful little amount of weight training and now yoga will result in the bones of a 30-year-old. I was joking with the technician that maybe the test will show I have extra-dense – really heavy – bones, and that's the reason I can't seem to lose weight.

But my clothes don't fit as well as they did last year and I know better, I really do.

I had a much better food day yesterday, which was a rest day. I did 45 minutes of yoga in the morning and grocery-shopped after leaving the hospital. Turned in early, which is an excellent strategy for not eating in the evening. I feel well-rested this morning and ready for a real tempo run.

And a really good rest of the day.

Can you believe it? An entire post without mentioning the weather! Heh.

I probably won't be trying that again

Yesterday morning's yoga session went well. I'm certainly not as flexible as I'd like to be, but I attempted all the poses and felt good afterward. What I should have done, though, was spend a little more time in corpse pose than I did. [I always cut it short; I feel like I'm wasting time just lying there doing nothing.]

Instead I jumped up, tied on my running shoes and headed out to do the four-mile loop.

Well. Let's just say that while yoga is always relaxing and mindful, it also can be, um, energizing. I was feeling quite peppy as I started out walking the first half mile.

When I picked up the pace, I told myself I would run three miles straight without stopping. I'd done this just last Saturday, the first three miles of my long run, so I knew it was possible. But I found it impossible to find a steady, slow-enough pace to go the distance without wearing myself out. I found myself essentially doing speed drills – run flat out for half a mile and then slow down or walk for a couple minutes; repeat until three miles are done.

Not a bad run, just not what I'd planned to do. I guess it's good to have a flexible mind as well as a flexible body!

M@rla, thanks for the heads-up about ChiRunning. I'll have to look for the book next time I'm at a big bookstore. I signed up for their e-mail newsletter and am intrigued by the method. And Jennifer, I did read Jenny's column about increasing stride rate, but have never actually taken the time to count my strides. That would be a good thing to do; thanks for the nudge!

Yesterday morning was good; yesterday afternoon was not so much. I'm still having trouble with sugar. After a pretty awful afternoon of too much sweet stuff, I was really happy to leave the house for a volunteer gig at the prison. When I got home, I checked e-mail and blogs before I went to bed and found this. And I woke up this morning with the little 'sugar-is-crack' mantra going through my brain. Thank you, D.

This is definitely a good thing.

I don't keep sweets in my house. Mr. Shrinking Knitter likes them, but also watches his weight and it's better for both of us if they're just not around. [I must say, though, that if I'm intrigued by those of you practicing intuitive eating. Wouldn't it be great to have a full candy dish on the end table all the time, and know that you didn't have to eat all of it at one sitting? I'm soooooooo not there.]

So how did I have such a bad afternoon? Well, I got my hair cut. Which meant I was out. And there are stores on the way home. And I had money.

Seriously, when I'm in the mood to go crazy with food, having someplace to go is the worst possible scenario. If I'd stayed home I probably would have taken a nap and slept right through the cravings.

People who give up alcohol or drugs, as I have, frequently substitute something else for their substance of choice. Learning to deal with life on life's terms is a process, and I clearly have a long way to go.

Slugging it out

But not how you think. Yesterday I was as much of a slug as I was a machine on Sunday. I ate whatever, whenever, and didn't break a sweat until 6:30 p.m., walking up the hill to the recreation building at the prison, where I spent an hour in un-air-conditioned discomfort teaching a drawing class.

[Last night's class was great: At one point all of them were hunched over their drawing pads, intent on their work, totally removed from prison and schedules and head counts and guards. Success!]

Yesterday was a scheduled rest day, but I'd planned to do some yoga. Didn't happen. I'm a morning exerciser and the morning totally got away from me.

My plan is to make up for it today by doing a yoga session before I run. I checked the Fit TV schedule and at 8:30 a.m. Eastern there's a program called "Head to Knees." It's described as "yoga for the long-distance runner." How cool is that?

Well, I don't know how cool it is, really, but I'm going to check it out. And then I'm going to stretch the scheduled easy two-mile run into three, with half-mile walks before and after.

Jeannie suggested in a comment yesterday that I concentrate on moving my arms faster when I run. I'll try that; I've studied the way runners use their arms when I watch races, but I don't consciously make any adjustments to my form. I'm just happy to get to the end of the road and back. Heh.

The little dog who found us week before last has settled into her new home. I don't think our dogs miss her at all. I must admit it was a little strange pulling into the driveway last night and not having her run out to greet me. I think she'll be much happier being an alpha dog, though; she didn't care much for the competition here.

My daughter sent a link to a news story that ranks West Virginia University at the top of this year's party-school list. And according to CalorieLab, West Virginia [the state, not the school] is second only to Mississippi as the fattest state in the nation.

I'm just so proud to be here!

Da doo run run

Yesterday's long run was great! Not great as in speedy, because as Josie says, "there is NO speedy side of me," but great because the weather was nice and I was able to keep it going for the duration with a minimum of minimal walking breaks. Three or four minute-long walks interspersed with six miles of running at a 12:28 pace. Slow? You betcha. But the target pace for yesterday was 13:24, so I beat that and wasn't even trying.

Even better, if it's possible to have better, is that my warm-up and cooldown miles were 15 and 16 minutes, respectively. I used to be a 20-minute mile walker. Ramping it up to 15 minutes is pretty cool. Also? You get done with the workout 10 minutes faster.

Heh.

Combine a great long run with a day of not eating very much and I woke up this morning feeling fit as a fiddle. I wish it were Friday so I could weigh in. How's that for weird? I'm anxious to see that number on the scale!

Saturday night found Mr. Shrinking Knitter and I at a Chinese buffet, after spending the afternoon in the Emergency Department with his mother. [She's okay; probably a little anxiety attack.] I shouldn't have eaten as much as I did, and I can only guess at the number of calories I consumed. So I deliberately ate less yesterday, but I also wasn't hungry.

The phenomenon of not being hungry after burning almost a thousand calories exercising is one that totally baffles me. My net intake yesterday was -46. Believe me, that doesn't happen very often.

But if it did, according to CalorieKing, I'd lose 16.7 pounds in a month.

That's kind of depressing, isn't it? To think that I have to eat 1000 and burn 1000 every day for a month to lose, essentially, two pounds a week. [Edited to add: Apparently my lack of calories affected my ability to do math. The "two" should be "four."]

I'm sticking my fingers in my ears now, and going lalalalalalalala.

You've got a question ...

I'll try to answer.
Jodi wondered yesterday, regarding running, how I stay motivated. She said in her comment that while she was training for her 5K she did fine, but she can't seem to find the love any more.

Until I registered for my next race, I also found it easy to slack off. I remember telling Mr. Shrinking Knitter that I planned to run at least 20 miles a week after I finished the Country Music Half-Marathon – maybe even 25. That never happened.

I then blithely assumed that once I signed up for the Army Ten-Miler and the City of Oaks Half-Marathon, my training mojo would return, as strong and wonderful as it was last January when I started training for my first half.

But I had no idea how hard it was going to be to train in summer. I'd rather run outdoors than on the dreadmill, and the heat and humidity has been brutal. [The humidity is much worse than the heat. I was outside for a little bit yesterday afternoon when the temperature was 90°, but the humidity was so low that I felt like I could have done an easy four miles.]

Lately, though, I can feel the motivation returning as race day approaches. Eight weeks from today is the 10-mile race; the half is four weeks after that. My suggestion to Jodi is to register for another race. Plunk down the cash, find a good training program [I like the one at Runner's World] and get busy, baby!

I did a Google search for motivational tips and found a couple of sites, here and here.

I'm no expert, though. If you have other ideas, do jump in with suggestions!

I did a half-hour of weight training yesterday for my cross-training day and my shoulder and back muscles are yelping at me. I've quit using the four-pound dumbbells and am doing more reps with the eight-pounders. Still can't do more than two sets of 10 with the 12-pound ones.

The weather this morning is pretty darned perfect for running, and today is my long run – six miles at a 13:24 pace. It's sunny, but the temperature is in the low 60s. I'd better get going before Mother Nature changes her mind!

Now that's what I'm talkin' about!

I did Thursday's five-mile speed drill yesterday, which was a scheduled rest day. Wow, what a difference a day makes! I walked the first mile and was supposed to have walked the last, as well, but I was feeling so good that I only walked the last half-mile.

Because I'm not trying to break any records when I, ahem, "race," I took Wendy's offhand comment from Thursday's post to heart. She said speed drills would be so much more manageable if they were quarter- or half-mile intervals instead of those grueling full miles.

Also? I can only run full-tilt for a half mile. I then completely sputter out and have to jog or even, gasp!, walk to recover.

Also also? Y'all know I don't run fast. Nor do I time myself while I'm running. I just hit the stopwatch when I leave my car and hit it again when I get back.

I was supposed to do the two speedy miles at an 11:24 pace. So I figured if I did the entire five miles in 65 minutes – warm-up, cool-down, recovery intervals, oh my! – I would have covered the distance with a passing grade.

65:38.

And I felt great the whole time. That's what running is supposed to feel like!

I'm so grateful for days like that, especially after sucky days. It really does make me want to go again. And again.

Jennifer asked yesterday if I gain weight eating more than 1400 daily calories. I'm glad you asked. I gain weight eating more than 1200 daily calories, actually, but I'm throwing the extra 200 in there because I'm running more miles than I usually do while I'm training. My net calories yesterday ended up at about 700 – I ate 1268 and burned 574 [I counted the five miles as two running at 5 mph and three walking at 4 mph].

In AA we talk a lot about acceptance. I'm not ready to accept that this weight is where I'm supposed to be. But perhaps if I surrendered to it, I would break through whatever psychological barrier is keeping me here.

Or maybe I need therapy. Heh.

Friday Quote Day

I suck at speed drills, too.
~ Shrinking Knitter

No, no, here's a real quote to contemplate today:

Our greatest glory
is not in never failing,
but in rising
every time we fall.
~ Confucious

It was hot and humid again yesterday, so I attempted the prescribed speed drill on the dreadmill. How'd that work for me?

Not so much.

Did a one-mile warm-up at a brisk walking pace, ran flat out [for me – about 5.3 mph] for half a mile and had to back the speed down to a walk again. I quit after two miles and logged it as an easy run instead of a speed workout.

I'm glad to know I'm not the only one who doesn't like speed drills, and I'm also thinking maybejustmaybe my expectations for myself are pretty high this early in the program. I know I have to push myself, but I'm not interested in getting hurt or in making the whole experience something to dread.

I want it to be fun, dammit – fun!

Food was good yesterday. I know I don't mention food or weight much any more and here's why. Most of the time I eat according to plan, which means keeping calories below 1400 and keeping a 30-50-20 ratio of protein-carbs-fat. Or thereabouts. Carbs are of the whole-grain, fruit and vegetable variety, protein is lean [when's the last time you had a well-marbled ribeye?] and fat is olive oil. I occasionally plunge into a bag of Goldfish Pretzels, but that's not a daily thing and who doesn't occasionally have a bad day?

Since I'm Doing the Right Food Thing most of the time and running and strength-training and now yoga-ing and still staying the same weight, it's just downright frustrating to talk about it. Or, rather, write about it.

So I don't. And I try not to think about it, either, although it's nearly impossible not to. When the majority of your thoughts since you were about 11 have been focused on getting thinner, when your nightly prayer is 'please, God, let me wake up skinny,' well – it's hard to turn those thoughts off.

God's not going to make me skinny. No one is, as a matter of fact, because I'm never going to be skinny; that's just not my body type. I can be healthy, though. And there's lots of room to be healthIER.

If I could only figure out what else I need to do.

I've been closely following M@rla's daily intake/output report. She's not weighing herself; she's just predicting – based on the eat less/move more theory – what she should lose. I think she's going to step on the scale after four weeks of the experiment – is that right, Miss M?

The discipline she's employing is inspiring. The only way I could not weigh myself every day is to toss the scale. The courage in putting it all out there is inspiring, as well.

Like Confucious said, sorta, what it takes is getting back up when we fall.

I think we're all doing pretty well with that.

I suck at yoga …

but the lovely and stick-thin Patricia Walden assures me that with practice, practice, practice I will, one day, be able to do this:

Yeah, right.

I will, however, maintain a positive mental attitude about it and maybe schedule some plastic surgery in the meantime. My lovely lady lumps get in the way when I do forward bends; if I got rid of them I could certainly bend better and I'd probably lose a few pounds, too!

Hmmmm. Gives weight-loss surgery a whole new meaning, doesn't it? Heh.

Every yoga class I've experienced, whether in person or on DVD, has been led by flat-chested women with six-pack abs. They have no idea what we lumpy Rubenesque women go through when instructed to 'gently lean forward and wrap your hands around your toes.'

I was more body-conscious yesterday, more aware of how I moved and carried myself. That's what I love about yoga. Even practicing sucky poses, I get the benefit of better posture and more graceful carriage.

Moving on … it appears that Mr. Shrinking Knitter has found a home for the stray dog, who has certainly made herself at home here in the Middle of Nowhere. One of his co-workers has agreed to adopt her. We're keeping her this weekend and then Monday she gets to meet her new family.

Today's run is a five-mile speed drill – run like hell for two miles with a half-mile recovery jog after each. Plus warm-up and cooldown miles. I'm still at the "I can barely jog a continuous mile" stage of training, so I'm not promising anything, to you or to myself. I'll be happy to do five miles and still breathe somewhat normally.

Okay, okay! I'll be your guinea pig!

It appears that some of you are more than happy to cheer me on as I explore yoga as a method of increasing stride length. Don't know where that idea comes from? Do the math:

Yoga = Increased Flexibility = Longer Stride

So I'll start today, even though it's absolutely the Most Perfect Morning for Running since, oh, maybe, June. Right now it's 53° F. Humidity is 88%, according to weather.com, but hey – 53°!

Here's what yesterday looked like:
Gotta love cooler temps! And I must say that yesterday's run was easier, more comfortable and more satisfying than any since oh, maybe, June.

But not much faster. Ahem.

I know that running every day, even if some of those days are short-and-easy runs, isn't a good idea. Too much risk of injury, too little recovery time, too likely the ol' bod will get used to it and quit burning calories – which, of course, has already happened. [I've stayed the same weight, regardless of intake or output, for six weeks. 'Nuff said about that.]

So Wednesdays will be Yoga Day here in the Middle of Nowhere. I have four DVDs – three yoga and one New York City Ballet, which is more Pilates-like – which I will load into the DVD player, and I'll do a different routine each week.

I must learn to like this as much as I like running, though, or I'll feel like Wednesdays are Punishment Day.

Knowing that increased flexibility should, theoretically, lead to a slightly faster running pace should keep me motivated about doing yoga.

I'll keep you posted. Namaste.

Cross-training

Wendy asked yesterday if I ever did any bike riding for cross-training.

In a word, "No."

I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times in the past 10 years I've seen anyone riding bikes around here. We don't have bike trails, our main roads have narrow berms and are cut into mountains, our side roads are single-lane with dangerous curves and oh, did I mention the hills?

If Mr. Shrinking Knitter and I ever leave our beautiful-but-isolated mountain paradise, we've agreed we will find someplace flat. He loves to bike, and enjoyed riding on a rails-to-trails route when he lived in Ohio. The last time I was on a bicycle was when I was a girl, I think. I know it had coaster brakes. I'd probably flip myself over the handlebars learning to use hand brakes. But I'd love to try!

So cross-training for me has usually been walking, easier runs [like yesterday's three-miler that I didn't even time], the rowing machine or a yoga session.

Which brings me to the next thing I've been thinking about.

Some of the images of Haile Gebrselassie running in the New York City Half-Marathon were aerial shots, taken from a helicopter camera. Haile is 5'4" tall – not the typical long, lean, lanky Ethiopian runner. But watching the birds'-eye view of him running was enlightening.

His stride length is impressive for someone of his stature. His legs were straight out in front and behind him; he seemed to float through the air, bounding across the route.

Bounding. That technique is suggested over and over again as a way to increase stride length. I've been trying to bound up the hills when I come to them, although I've yet to dedicate myself to a once-a-week hill-training session.

But I know if I dedicated myself to twice-weekly yoga sessions, I could increase my knee and hip flexibility, which would – in time – lead to a longer stride.

I'm not going to get faster without it.

Do I want to get faster? Sometimes. Honestly, though? I'm more satisfied with endurance than speed. Taking four walking breaks in four miles is a greater disappointment to me than running four slow-but-steady miles.

I don't know where this is leading; I'm thinking out loud here. And that's what blogs are for, right?

P.S. The dog is still here. We thought we found her owner yesterday. You know how when you buy a new car, suddenly you see yourself coming and going every time you drive it? I saw a sign for a lost dog on the very road where I do most of my training. I don't remember seeing that sign before yesterday, but it had obviously been there a while. The man came to look at her and, sadly, said she wasn't his dog. He and his wife might adopt her; theirs has been missing for more than a month. Keep your fingers crossed for all of us!

She's still here

That little dog, that is.

Our county's animal welfare organization doesn't have a physical facility. It's completely volunteer-run; foster families care for adoptable animals and a core group of volunteers respond to telephone inquiries. Unfortunately there aren't any foster homes available right now, so we're still searching for a home for her.

I've put up half a dozen signs in our neighborhood, but no one has claimed her. She's such a little sweetie and I'm afraid Mr. Shrinking Knitter is becoming too attached.

While I was running yesterday morning, he took her walking with him on our road. He usually walks two miles and she kept up with him the whole way, never leaving his side. No leash, either!

We put our dog's crate [she doesn't use it any more] on the front porch; the stray dog pops in and out for naps and nighttime sleeping with no prompting from us humans.

She plays fetch with a ball until Mr. Shrinking Knitter gets tired – she doesn't want to quit!

This dog has been well-cared-for; I can't imagine that someone just dumped her by the side of the road. Anyone who does that is contemptible.

At any rate, she's still here, wiggling her way into our hearts. Jen, if you really want her, I'll deliver!

I'm not supposed to run today, but I feel like I should, just because it's relatively cool and comfortable outdoors this morning. Four easy miles could just be another form of cross-training … couldn't it? Can you tell I'd rather run than do any other form of exercise?

I'm sure some of you have noticed I haven't talked about weight-training in a week or so. The weight bench had been littered with painting tools and equipment when our garage was getting a facelift. It's been cleared of such nonsense for several days now, so no excuse not to get back at it other than this: I don't wanna!

I can be quite petulant when I want to be. Heh.

Also, knitting for babies really goes quickly! The left front of the cardigan is done and attached to the back; the right front has been started. I'm using size one and three needles – in other words, teeny – and making great progress. To put this in perspective, the circumference of Claire's sweater is a total of 140 stitches. An adult-sized sweater on size 3 needles would be about 300 stitches around.

Until I figure out what size I'm going to be, my sweaters will be knit with fatter yarn and bigger needles.

Done, done, done, done, done

I slept later than I'd intended – couldn't get to sleep last night and ended up taking a Benadryl shortly after midnight. Sometimes those things really knock me out. So I woke up about 7:45 a.m. to find it pleasantly and suprisingly cool outside. Still humid, but not as bad as it has been.

Today's long run was six miles at a 13:45-minute pace; I did them [with a lot of walking] at 13:14 – about an hour and 20 minutes when all was said and done. Or run and done.

I did the stash-the-water-bottle trick, this time two of them, which helped a lot. There were times when I thought I could just keep on going at the same steady pace for miles and miles and hours and hours. It's at those times when I speed up a bit, lengthen my stride on purpose and totally wear myself out. Then I have to walk for a minute or so to catch my breath and feel comfortable enough to run again.

But it's also those times when I realize how much I love to run. Even at a snail's pace.

Hope those of you who are training or racing today had a great morning. I know I did!

For you knitters, have you seen Vogue Knitting's revamped site? Worth a look – there are several free patterns, some of which I might even knit, and they've begun an online stitch dictionary. Only a few designs so far, but the eyelet herringbone looks good enough to knit!

On second thought …

I waited too long to try to run this morning. I'll blame it on the dog.

Really! This little dog showed up on our porch Friday morning. I noticed her when I got up at 5:30 a.m.; she must have been there all night.

Now I know that if you give a stray dog any sort of food water attention, it will be Your Dog for Life. So I had no intention of feeding it. In fact, I let our two dogs bark and harrass it, hoping it would run for its life.

Mr. Shrinking Knitter, however, is not as stern about stray animals as I am. I'll tell you about the cat one of these days. At any rate, he said things like, "Well we can't just let her starve!" and "Don't you think we should give her some water?" and "She's just about the friendliest little stray I've ever seen."

You know where this is going, don't you?

This morning I made up signs, tucked them into sheet protectors and spent the next half hour cruising around looking for likely spots to nail them up. Before Mr. Shrinking Knitter can get even more attached to her, I think I need to be pro-active about searching for her owner.

She's such a little thing – full-grown but with short legs [just like me!] – that she couldn't have wandered far from home. We're hoping she's just lost and hasn't been dumped here.

Of course by the time I actually started out for the long run it was much hotter, more humid and I knew I wouldn't last. Tomorrow! I promise! In fact, if you don't see a new post first thing tomorrow morning, it's because I'm already on the road. I think that's the only way it's going to get done until the heat and humidity take a hike.

Yes, I'm still knitting

Yesterday's run went pretty well, actually. I was on the road by 7:30, did a half-mile warm-up, ran three miles at about a 12-minute pace [I was supposed to do them at an 11:45-minute pace, but oh, well] and did a half-mile cooldown. No road workers offering cold water this time, but I carried a bottle along with me and dropped it at the one-mile mark. It really gave me something to look forward to on the return trip.

Since I've identified this blog as having "a little knitting on the side," I should probably provide a string-and-sticks update every once in a while. Or change the title, but I don't think I'll do that.

I finished the Big Bad Baby Blanket for my new granddaughter when I visited her late last month. It's been washed, folded and tucked away in the closet with all her other blankets – it's too hot in North Carolina for blankets now. They're not even taking outdoor walks in the evenings any more, as they were when I was there. She's doing well, has gained two pounds since her birth and is smiling, cooing and being adorable.

I started a little cardigan for her in Katia Mississippi 3, a cotton/acrylic blend. The ribbing is grey, and I'm doing a textured stripe pattern in pink, grey and white. I finished the back Thursday and started one of the front pieces yesterday.

On the horizon will be Christmas stockings for the new baby and her parents, which my son requested. I'm planning to use my own entrelac-in-the-round design.

Right now it's 70 and the humidity is 88%. I don't think it's going to get any better, and tomorrow looks worse. Even though my long runs are supposed to be on Sundays, I think I'll go get it over with now. Just as farmers must make hay while the sun shines, runners must get moving when conditions are comfortable tolerable.

Friday Quote Day

I dwell in possibility …
Emily Dickinson

Thank you all for your comments yesterday. It still makes me smile thinking of that guy handing me that cold bottle of water. He even took the empty on my way back!

Isn't today's quote terrific? It seems gentler than the "consider the possibilities" tagline in that old Visa credit card commercial, but still leaves you thinking the world is your oyster.

I was certainly dwelling in possibility when, last December, I got the crazy idea to run a half-marathon last spring. I'd never done anything like that before. Challenging myself physically was, in fact, completely off my radar.

And I knew, even before I crossed the finish line, that I would do it again.

The training challenges this time around are as different from the last regimen as they can be. Instead of snow and ice and freezing temperatures, I'm dealing with thick, oppressive, moist air that you can practically see and touch. When I registered for the next two runs, one in October and one in November, I knew I'd be training in August, but I had no idea how brutal it would be.

The heat absolutely zaps my energy. I'd gotten to the point earlier in the summer where I could run four or five miles in the morning and then mow the lawn, tidy up the house and do a couple loads of laundry. Now? Not so much.

I'm just not acclimated to a 90/90 heat/humidity combo, and you can't really get acclimated because, at least this time, it happened rather suddenly. A couple weeks ago the high temperature was in the mid-70s.

I still don't know how you deep-south runners manage it. I know your homes, cars, offices and stores are all air-conditioned, just as ours are. But you do seem to get used to transitioning between cool indoors and steamy outdoors better than we wimps up north do. That must be why we get heat-index warnings and Florida doesn't.

Every morning I dwell in the possibility that today will be the day the heat wave breaks.

Judging from today's first quick trip outdoors with the dogs, I don't think so.

But I'm ready to run, and I will run, because it's part of the schedule and because, when I'm done, I know I'll feel good and because it won't be possible to run eight or 10 or 13.1 miles this fall if I don't do five or six or seven now.

Possibility doesn't become reality without footwork.

A nice thing happened …

on my four-miler yesterday.

First, I'm glad I was even able to do four miles yesterday. It's too hot – really – for that kind of exertion! According to national news reports I should be dead.

Obviously I'm not.

As I started yesterday's run I noticed a large orange road-work sign, and I hadn't gone too far – maybe three-quarters of a mile – when I saw a flagman. I asked him if it was safe to continue and he advised me not to get run over.

I said I'd try not to run over them. Heh. I crack myself up.

Apparently he radioed ahead to warn the workers that a pedestrian was on the loose, because one of them offered me a water bottle.

The only time I've had a water stop on one of my country-road runs was when I planted bottles along the route ahead of time.

Next time I start to have dark thoughts about road crews and tax dollars and standing around and such, I'm going to remember that nice man with that cold bottle of water. They were all nice, actually. One of them said he bet I'd make it all the way to the end of the road. I didn't tell him that road is my easy run.

He won the bet.

That run was making up for Tuesday. Today I'm supposed to do five miles, but I'm postponing it until tomorrow. It's 80 degrees and 87 percent humidity, and while I know you Florida runners deal with that regularly, this West Virginia one doesn't.

I'll be glad when summer's over.

The no-whine zone

Okay, okay … the consensus seems to be that I'm not whining. Or, more accurately, that my writing isn't coming across in whine-mode. In my head, however, there's a constant and annoying Whine Festival going on. And it has nothing to do with a crisp Sauvignon.

• When I'm eating right, I whine because I can't have treats.
• When I eat treats, I whine because I'm screwing up.
• I whine when I don't drink enough water.
• I whine when I spend all day in the bathroom because I drank too much water.
• Running and whining go together like shoes and socks … heh, wasn't that clever? Too hot, too cold, too slow, blah-blah-blah.

Since I long ago decided that the blog would not be a Place for Whining, I'm glad your perception is that that's the way it is.

Now if I could just delete the whiny sound track in my brain.

The broken things around here are gradually getting fixed. The car is running like a champ. We're taking the watch back to the jeweler on Friday. The commode only needs guts replaced [wouldn't it be great if that's all I needed to lose weight? whinewhinewhine], not a whole new unit. [For the record, I wouldn't begin to know how to install a toilet, but I have replaced the guts several times. One does what one needs to do in the Middle of Nowhere, where plumbers are scarce and handymen are scarcer.]

I'm heading out for a four-mile run. Yesterday was the first running day of the new 13-week training schedule, but since the extension ladder was set up in the bed of our truck and our painter was high atop the ladder, painting the soffit of the two-story garage, I wasn't about to leave the premises. I was supposed to do two miles, but I will do four this morning, because that's what I'm used to doing, and why cut it in half?

It's already wickedly hot with matching humidity and not getting any cooler as tempis fugits.

Gotta run.

Yeah, what she said

I don't particularly feel like I've been whining lately, but maybe I have been. I've been trying to keep it real, but sometimes it comes across like petulance. These lines in PQ's most recent post smacked me in the face.

Which pretty much sums up my attitude about life these days. Rule the court. Get your game on. There's no use in focusing on what you can't do, just think about all the stuff you can do. Just believing you can do something makes it all the more likely that you can.

She signed off by saying, "I'm not big on whining these days."

Just felt the urgent need to share this on a day when I do feel like I'm getting my game on. May the feeling continue, for all of us.

Just what the heck is success, anyway?

Lori commented a couple days ago with a couple of questions. First, she asked, "When you were at your 'normal' weight, how did you keep it off?'

The way I maintained the first time, back in the '70s, was by following the Weight Watchers program – I was working as a WW leader then, and it was the old program. Prescribed amounts of food, none of this 'all foods are legal' crap, you'll eat what you're told and you'll LIKE IT! Including once-a-week liver meals.

I haven't done as well with WW's Points programs, although I've tried.

The second time I was able to achieve and maintain a loss was by not eating sugar and doing a LOT of exercise (at least two hours daily in the gym, plus running to and from my house, plus long runs on the weekends), including weight training. I'm flirting with sugar again – it's so hard to just leave it alone. At one time I was five years sugar-free and really never felt better. But seriously? Sugar and crack cocaine must be made from the same chemical base.

Lori's second question – " … can you remember what or why you stopped and regained your weight?" – is harder to answer.

I truly don't remember what happened the first time, and that experience probably isn't relevant to the body I'm trying to whip back into shape today. But I can tell you exactly what happened 10 years ago.

I was cruising along in Ohio, having lost nearly 50 pounds, wearing size 6s and 8s, going to the gym, not eating sugar, blah-blah-blah. Mr. Shrinking Knitter and I were maintaining a long-distance dating relationship, as he had moved to West Virginia, which is where he's from. We alternated traveling on weekends for two years before we decided I would follow him to the Middle of Nowhere.

In addition to quitting my job and selling my house, I had to leave my gym. The closest gym to me is a 45-minute drive. Everything is a 45-minute drive. I thought running and walking on these mountain roads would compensate for two hours on the treadmill and Stairmaster. We did buy a weight bench, but I'm not as diligent about weight training when I don't have a trainer handy to cheer me on.

[If I could offer one and only one piece of gym advice, it would be to hire a personal trainer for a few sessions. The first three or four or five are to learn to use free weights safely, to establish goals and to develop a plan for achieving them. Then have one more follow-up session a month later to check your form. Not only will you get in the habit of lifting properly and challenging yourself, you'll get to know the staff at the gym and you'll always have someone around to support you.]

Two other things happened that started adding pounds: Mr. Shrinking Knitter convinced me that sugar isn't all that bad [this was back in the day when dietary fat was the enemy]. I'm not blaming him; it was totally my choice to have dessert once in a while, and then more often. But I know now that I would have had an easier time of maintenance if I'd continued to abstain from sugar.

The other thing was that I quit smoking.

I used to light up as I was leaving the gym. I frequently said I worked out so hard so that I could smoke – I was protecting my heart and lungs while at the same time destroying them. I'd been thinking about quitting, but hadn't made that leap. My first granddaughter had just been born and I knew I'd not be welcome for visits if I smelled like an ashtray. So that was a huge incentive.

One day I just tossed the last pack away and never looked back. It's been more than 10 years now.

So. No gym, start eating sugar, stop smoking – the Perfect Storm for gaining weight. And, as you all know, the bigger you are, the easier it is to make excuses for not moving and not eating healthfully.

I've been maintaining a 25-pound loss for several months, and last summer at this time had actually lost a total of 39 pounds. That loss happened by eliminating crack sugar and eating according to one of eDiets' menu plans. I called them "prescription" meals.

Sounds like I might need to revisit that option. I don't want to join eDiets again, but there are several websites out there that will create menu plans for you. It's on my radar … I'm just not willing to try it again.

Yet.

Everything is broken

Continuing my sometimes-theme of using Bob Dylan song titles for subjects of blog posts, today I have to face several broken things in or around my house.

Not to mention the ongoing broken metabolism.

My car's brakes are making a horrible grinding noise. Brake linings, probably, so it will have to go into the shop as soon as possible.

The guest bathroom's commode won't flush. I hate fixing toilets, but at least I know what to buy and how to install it.

Mr. Shrinking Knitter's watch needed a new battery, which meant taking it to a jeweler, which I did on Saturday, only to return home and find they had not reset the time because the time-setting button is broken! It's evident that they tried to reset it but discovered they couldn't – the least they could have done is mention it to me before I drove all the way home.

Arghhhh.

Customer service in this part of the Middle of Nowhere is another thing that is, frequently, broken.

On the other hand, in just a few minutes I'm going to go pick up one of our Amish neighbors who has agreed to paint our garage. So at least the faded garage will, by the end of the week, look like new again.

And all those other things are repairable, with a bit of time and money.

Sure wish I could figure out a way to reinstall my metabolism. Heh.

And the winner is …

Haile Gebrselassie in less than an hour! Through the magic of satellite televison and a fast digital camera, I was able to catch this shot, two seconds before the unofficial finish.

Okay, back to our regularly scheduled programming.

I've been thinking of Mary's comment yesterday. She said, "I know I can do absolutely anything I set my mind to – and want bad enough. With the exception of losing weight. So I quit trying."

What I've been thinking is, what would 'not trying' feel like? Seems like I've been trying for-freakin'-ever, and certainly since I was about 11 years old, with relatively short periods of either not caring or not working at losing or maintaining.

Twice in my life I've maintained a 'normal' weight for about three years each time. One was after the birth of my son in 1973. The second was about 10 years ago.

And I guess that's what keeps me on the path of trying: I've done it before. I realize my age, hormonal changes and a slower metabolism all contribute to my current lack of success [success being defined as reaching the weight goal I've set for myself]. So I just tell myself I need to keep at it, work harder, eat less, never, never, never, never give up.

I'll tell you what, though … it's tempting to quit trying and learn to come to some kind of peace with where I am now.

Guess where I was a year ago today? In Las Vegas, getting married! Yes, Mr. Shrinking Knitter and I are celebrating our first year of wedded bliss. I was in a Hallmark store yesterday selecting the perfect card and there was a sweet little old man next to me, muttering that it looked like anniversary cards stopped at 50 years. He was looking for one for his wife, whom he married 60 years ago. He said he was giving her roses, too. [Mr. SK presented me with a beautiful arrangement of red roses on Thursday.]

Plan the plans, not the results

There is a saying in 12-step groups that floats around every once in a while: Plan the plans, not the results. Meaning it's good to be prepared, but you never know what's going to happen.

Lori commented yesterday with this sentence: "Wow, a woman with a plan!"

Do any of us ever begin the march to better health without a plan? Even if it's as simple and vague as 'eating better' or 'getting off my ass more often' – a plan is a plan is a plan.

I just happen to need a little more browbeating structure.

The problem with plans is that they sometimes don't produce the desired results. You've probably noticed in your blog-hopping adventures that some of us can follow a food plan for days, weeks, months on end and then hit a wall. What worked yesterday doesn't make a bit of difference today. [I found that principle holds true with baby care, as well. One day the bouncy seat is very soothing. Next day? AnNOYing! Heh.]

A couple of people who read here have brought up the mind-over-matter principle in the past. It's interesting to me that I totally, totally believed the training program I started last January would produce a finish at the Country Music Half Marathon in April. And it did. I totally, totally believe the current plan will get me across the finish line in Raleigh on November 4. If I do X number of miles each week for the next 13 weeks, I will have the stamina and heart and legs and lungs to complete the task.

I have no doubt.

My experience with food plans, however, is not as cast-in-stone. Food plans work for a while, and then – so the experts say – your body becomes accustomed to what you've been giving it and you have to shake things up a bit. I believe that's how the Wendie Plan evolved, and also is the philosophy behind plans that suggest you take a day or a meal off once in a while, such as Joy Bauer's 90/10 plan.

I have battled my weight almost all my life, and I'm pretty convinced that I'm always going to. Controlling my weight will never be as easy as running 20 miles a week.

Naturally, as long as I keep telling myself that, it will remain my truth.

Clearly we have a bit more work to do in the mind-over-matter department. Transferring my conviction about running plans to food plans isn't really much of a leap. But in my mind, it really is.

Need some help creating your own plan? SparkPeople has some tips.

Before I leave today, if anyone here is running the New York City Half-Marathon tomorrow morning, you're going to be in good – nay, esteemed – company. Haile Gebrselassie will be leading the pack, the first time he's ever run this event. Lynn Zinser writes an inspiring story about him in today's New York Times.

Friday Quote Day

Without a sense of urgency,
desire loses its value.
~ Jim Rohn

Honestly? I wish I were still at my son's, instead of waking up here in the Middle of Nowhere with an entire baby-less day stretched out in front of me. Y'all were right: Babies trump everything. Heh.

I ran only once during my stay there, and then only for 30 minutes. I used MapMyRun to determine the distance and it was only 1.77 miles. Pitiful! But I did a lot of almost-eight-pound curls and lifts, along with a new maneuver that will soon be catching on in gyms across the world: rocking.

My main role while there was Chief Cook and Bottle Washer, but I was glad to be able to provide baby relief so her parents could get some rest here and there. She loves to be rocked and held and fortunately my son and daughter-in-law don't think it's possible do too much of either.

Okay, moving on … are you wondering what today's quote has to do with the last three paragraphs? Well, I'll tell you: Nothing! But that quote kind of sums up why I wasn't stressing about not getting my training runs in while I was away from home.

[You may be wondering exactly why I didn't run more often. My Middle of Nowhere is in southern West Virginia. I was four hours south of home. South, people! In late summer! Need I say more?]

The training plans at Runner's World can be as long as 16 weeks, which is what I started with, or as short as two. I'm going to create a new plan for 13 weeks, since that's how long it is until the City of Oaks half. Also? Thirteen miles, 13 weeks. There's something about that symmetry that appeals to me.

I'm still going to have to juggle some runs around in September due to a couple of short trips. I think that having a good solid month under my belt will be the foundation I need to keep that sense of urgency going. Because today? It just ain't happenin'.

I sort of feel like a slacker, but if I pretend that I just sent in my registration fee yesterday …

Thanks for all your comments on my last post. Isabelle, feel free to join M@rla and me as we continue to bust our butts and stay the same weight, but learn not to care about numbers. I'm inspired by M's excitement and delight as she gets stronger and fitter. I'm inspired by her perseverance and dedication to her health and well-being. We agree that it would be great to pull something off the size-8 rack and have it fit. But it's becoming just as satisfying to pull a heavier weight off the rack and lift it overhead!

Progress!

Last chance

How do you Florida runners do it?

My intention yesterday was to run six easy miles in the morning. But I forgot that Mr. Shrinking Knitter and I had plans in the morning, meaning I would have to do the run in the afternoon. When it's hot. And humid. And maybe raining. Sounds a lot like the American southeast, doesn't it?

Well, it wasn't raining at 1:30, so I headed out with absolutely no intention of doing six miles. I was going to walk a half mile, run three at a very slow pace and walk the last half mile.

Let's just say I walked a lot and jogged a little. I was out there huffing, puffing and sweating for almost an hour – 59:45, to be precise. I left the stopwatch at the car, so total distance was probably 4.2. Sweat was dripping into my eyes the last mile, although I was wearing a sweatband.

I don't mind the slow pace so much – I always figure the longer I'm out there, the more calories I'm burning. Whether that's true or not I don't know, but I comfort myself by thinking it is. Heh.

So, Florida runners, I salute you! You do this every freaking day for months on end. Our hazy, hot, humid days of summer really only last two months. Winter? Also only two months. The rest of the year is wonderful for outdoor running.

Today is my last chance to pick up those three lost miles. Will she or won't she? She probably will.

Food has been good since the debacle that was this past Wednesday. Good enough to have lost another pound since I started counting again. Two down, a million to go. But who's counting? I'm debating about changing my eventual goal to make it five pounds more than I was able to maintain 10 years ago – that would be 140. Unfortunately 140 on 5'2" means my BMI is still in the overweight category. A goal of 135 just barely squeaks me into normal.

Considering that I've been at my current weight for several months now, thinking about being at a normal BMI is probably unrealistic. But I'm an optimist, and also tenacious and somewhat stubborn. Just ask my husband.

Stop by and wish Jonathan good luck in his first half-marathon, won't you? He's running the San Fran Half tomorrow, which will take him across the Golden Gate Bridge. How cool is that? Actually, considering it's San Francisco, it'll probably be pretty cool, indeed. And maybe foggy, too.

I'd love to send some of this rain out west ... here's what we're looking forward to for today and tomorrow. Tomorrow is the weekly long run, another seven miles. I pray those little lightning bolts will wait until later in the day, because I plan to be up and out of here early in the morning.

After tomorrow's run, I'll be heading out to visit my son, his wife and my new granddaughter for a few days. So this is advance warning of yet another blog break. I predict more of these breaks this year than last, since they live fairly close to me. It comes down to a decision between getting to know a new baby or stringing together X number of consecutive blog posts. Guess who wins?

Friday Quote Day

To know the road ahead,
ask those coming back.
~ Chinese Proverb

In other words: Do What Works.

And how do we know what works? Based on our own or others' experiences, I think we all have a pretty good idea of what we need to do to get to the other side of the weight-loss/fitness mountain. It's not like we haven't ever had some success at it, at some time.

Layin' 'round the shanty probably won't get us there. Speaking for myself, of course. Heh.

The frustrating thing [one of them, anyway] is that what works now might – and probably won't – work in six months. Our bodies are incredibly adaptable. Damn it. They get better and better at efficiently using the fuel we provide, and they become accustomed to the amount and intensity of activity in which we engage.

The last time I lost a significant amount of weight I was 10 years younger than I am now. Maybe even 11. My late-middle-aged body isn't going to perform the way my younger one did, nor is it going to respond to food restriction and increased activity the way it did a decade ago.

I think, perhaps, I need to work on acceptance. I need to quit fighting so hard and I need to quit feeling like a failure.

That's not to say I need to give up lean protein and vegetables. There are too many positives associated with a healthy, active lifestyle to chuck it all and watch my ass spread like syrup on a waffle.

At 56, the only medication I take is a mild diuretic. My cholesterol is perfect, as is my blood pressure, resting heart rate and blood sugar. I can do just about any physical thing that needs to be done – lifting, moving, bending, stretching, reaching … running – without pain or discomfort.

Maybe I just need to redefine success. While I'd love to – and still hope to – see a normal BMI before I die, I must, must, must learn to be grateful for the progress I've made.

•••

Yesterday turned out to be a pretty nice day after all. The thunderstorms didn't roll in until I was fast asleep, and it only sprinkled a couple of times during the day. I decided to do my speedwork outside, beginning with the warm-up mile, at the end of which I knew I wouldn't be able to run because I had to pee. Had to come back home – no public restrooms on country lanes – and decided to do the run/recovery work on the treadmill. That lasted less than a mile. Went back to the road and finished the drill outdoors. I wouldn't call it speedy – all in all I did 5.75 miles in 76 minutes – but I did it.

I think the reason I did it was because I promised myself I would report it here. I'm supposed to do three easy miles today and guess what? It's raining! Accompanied by thunder and lightning! I don't think it'll last all day, though. I'll find some time later to do three, and possibly six, miles. That'll bring my weekly mileage back to where it's supposed to be.

Too much

Too much rain, too much sloth, too much food, too much sleep, too much apathy. That pretty much describes my little world this morning. I amaze myself with my ups and downs, physical and emotional. The emotional this time is pretty dramatic, even for me.

So that study I mentioned yesterday has hit the blog-o-sphere bigtime! My favorite comment was one I found over at BFD, wondering how anorexic friends could be better than obese ones. Calista? … Calista? … Calista?

I guess everyone who has a weight-loss blog ought to give it up; all our virtual friends have elevated BMIs and look where it gets us.

I wasn't surprised to see the story covered on the national news last night, complete with headless, portly body shots. The photographer who gets that assignment must think it's a piece of cake. Heh. C'mon! Where's the challenge? How about a perp walk once in a while?

Okay, back to my too-lazy day yesterday. It was raining when I left the house, raining when I got to the barn, raining when I fed the horses, raining when I refilled the water trough, raining when I picked fresh green beans from the owner's garden [with her permission], raining when I got my oil changed and raining when I got back home. It rained almost all day, while I either napped, ate, knit, read or watched television.

I'm sure you've noticed that I didn't report it was raining while I ran. That's because I didn't run. I napped, ate, knit, ate, read, ate and watched television. And ate some more. It truly was a bingey day here in the Middle of Nowhere, and when I woke up at the-darkest-before-the-dawn o'clock, I was sick about it.

Not running for two days has probably killed the last dozen endorphins I had left. Do they regenerate, like the liver?

The one positive note du jour was that I lifted weights, a complete pyramid routine, and actually worked up a sweat doing it.

It's always good to remember the positives.

Today's forecast? Um, rain.

Today's workout schedule? Speedwork. 2x1600s at 11:04 with 800 recovery jogs, plus warm-up and cool-down miles.

I think I have a date with the treadmill.

Thank goodness I have that option.

Ack! It's catching!

How could I resist this headline:
According to Yet Another Study, obesity can be contagious.

Obese friends, apparently, are a … ahem … big factor in your own ever-growing waistline. Family members? Not so much.

And according to the researchers, if your friends get thin, it's likely you will, as well. But since most of the people in this 30-year study got bigger, this particular indicator gets lumped in with the other thousand or so Reasons for the Obesity Epidemic.

What's interesting to me is that the numbers hold true even if your friend lives hundreds of miles away. So it isn't just a matter of hitting the Dairy Queen together after work, or winding up a shopping trip with your best bud over pizza and beer.

Now what? Do we all have to go get new, thin friends? Do you s'pose Calista and Courtney have room in their iPhones for me?

Heh.

Edited to add: The complete story from the New England Journal of Medicine is available here, no subscription necessary.

Thunder on the mountain

Thunder on the Mountain is a great song from Bob Dylan's latest album, but it's not much fun to run to when it's accompanied by lightning and torrential rain. And there was plenty o' thunder, lightning and rain yesterday morning when I left the house. [Disclaimer: I did not take this picture, but that's exactly what it looked like out my front door!] I'd hoped to feed the horses and then do my three miles, but instead I came back home and made a necklace. I haven't pulled the beading stuff out in a long time, other than to entertain our three teen-aged girl guests over the Fourth of July.

It's still raining this morning, but I'm hoping it will clear up later. Today is a scheduled rest day, so I'll trade yesterday for today and be back on schedule.

The meeting I went to was interesting. Our mayor is trying to revitalize the area and has some wonderful, forward-thinking ideas. She gets diverse groups of creative people together for brainstorming sessions that inevitably lead to improvements and economic growth. I'm still not sure why she invited me, but I'm glad she did. Maybe she thinks I have too much time on my hands. Heh.

I don't have too much time this morning. I need to scoot, actually. The horses need their breakfast and my car goes in the shop at 8:15.

Before I go, though, I thank you all for your ideas about what that crazy dream might have meant. GC, especially, went above and beyond in searching for the meaning behind all those weird elements. Thanks so much! There's a lot to think about there.

If I only had time.

I am sooo glad it's morning!

What a horrible, restless night I've just had! Sometimes I wish I was hooked on Lunesta just so I wouldn't dream.

KIDDING!

So in this long, rambling, neverending-until-I-woke-up dream, I'm either in high school or college, training with a track team. Hah! As if that ever happened. I watched track meets, but never participated. Fat girls weren't athletes. We were always in the art room.

But I digress.

The coach was a sociopath, but I, being the newest member of the team, didn't know. His disarming charm hid his true nature, which was to be cruel and unusual. Much like some of the prison guard staff I've met at Alderson.

There I go, digressing again.

And for some reason, this dream took place in a City. I went to high school and took a few college courses in a small town in southwestern Ohio, known for being the hog capital of the Buckeye State.

Okay. Fat girl, big city, track team, crazy coach. We're boarding a bus to go to an invitational meet in another town and I can't find my shoes. Or my camera. I spend what seems like days searching for these two items: The shoes are necessary for a good performance and the camera was a gift and is dear to my heart. [To make things even weirder, it's the Canon Digital Rebel my husband gave me for Christmas. Trust me: In the late '60s/early '70s, digital cameras would have been as sci-fi as personal jet propulsion modules.]

Finally someone clues me in that the coach has been known to 'borrow' team members' personal possessions in the past. I'm digging through a secret closet, looking for my treasures, when he shows up and demands to know what I'm doing. I surprise myself by confronting him. He confesses that he did, indeed, steal my shoes and camera and give them to the star of the boys' track team in exchange for a ride home.

Bastard.

And then I woke up. My shoes are still on the floor of the bedroom and my camera is right here beside me.

I hate dreams like that. I don't feel like I've slept at all; instead, I'm as tired and worn out as if I'd been searching for a pair of shoes all night.

I'm not even going to Google for an interpretation of this dream. Mostly because I don't have time. [But you can offer an opinion, if you like!] My horse-feeding gig is still going on this week and then I'm going to an all-day workshop on the topic of creativity and culture in West Virginia. Our mayor has a wonderful vision for this little corner of the Middle of Nowhere, and I'm happy to be involved.

I just wish I hadn't been up all night. Heh.

Lifted weights yesterday but didn't do any other cross-training or walking. I'm supposed to run three miles today. If I leave within 30 minutes, I think I can feed, run, shower and be at the conference before it starts at 10 a.m.

Film at eleven.

The long run

Yesterday was the first long run – seven miles – of this training session. I was reminded with nearly every footfall of that time last January I ran seven miles on the treadmill. Quelle boring! But outside, on a little-traveled road, in the country, along a river? It was lovely!

I might have gone faster if a bear had been on my tail. Or if someone had dangled a donut on a stick just out of my reach. Seven 12-minute miles were sandwiched between 16-minute warm-up and cool-down miles. So nine total in less than two hours.

If my last – and only! – experience with race training holds true, I'll continue to get faster and take fewer walking breaks as my endurance improves. I had to stop and walk four or five times yesterday morning.

The other thing I remember from last January's treadmill run is that I didn't do anything the rest of the day except read and nap. Not so this time. I did a couple loads of laundry, emptied the dishwasher, fixed lunch and dinner – in other words, I continued with my normal routine.

I'm glad today's a rest-from-exercise day, though.

Because we were on the road, I didn't weigh myself last Friday. I hopped on the scale this morning and am down one pound. I hope to make another dent in it this week.

My new favorite breakfast is a smoothie made with Activia Light Vanilla Yogurt, half a cup of skim milk and a scoop of chocolate-flavored protein powder. Thirty-two grams of rib-sticking protein and only two grams of fat, and about 250 calories. I wasn't hungry for hours afterward.

Rereading this post, I can't imagine that anyone is still awake, if you've even made it this far. It sounds like a second-grader's "what I did on my summer vacation" theme. Running seven miles has apparently sapped my ability to write. I'll try to do better tomorrow.

Hope you have a great Monday!

Where've I been?

You can read about where I was Friday and yesterday here. And here. Here are some photos from the event. And even some international coverage here and here. And you can listen to a story about it here.

I've been peripherally involved, kind of as a research assistant, with the issue of OxyContin abuse since sometime in late 2000. I think. The abuse of this prescription drug has devastated our little corner of Appalachia, and also has hit southern and northeastern United States hard. The sentencing hearing yesterday in a Federal courtroom in Abingdon, VA, provided a measure of closure after literally years of wondering if the drug's manufacturer would ever be held accountable.

The hearing was to decide whether to accept or reject a previously agreed-upon plea deal between the U.S. Attorney and Purdue Frederick, which is an affiliated company of Purdue Pharma, the drug's manufacturer. I wasn't aware that the judge had as much discretion as he did, or that he would be listening to testimony from victims' families and witnesses for the accused. I was prepared to be somewhat bored by what I thought was a done deal.

It was better than any Law and Order I've ever seen. Fascinating, heartbreaking, dramatic, riveting … I could roll out the clichés for another paragraph, but I think you get the idea.

The upshot is that while the three executives named in the case didn't get jail time, as the families wanted, they did get three years' supervised probation and 400 hours of community service in the area of prescription drug abuse, along with multi-million-dollar fines. The company also is on supervised probation, for five years, and is to pay an unprecedented fine which, unfortunately, will go mostly to law enforcement, per the plea deal.

The judge was very moved by the victims' families statements, as were those of us in the packed courtroom. [They also had an overflow courtroom with a video feed.] In his decision, he stated he would have preferred that the agreement include a provision for some of the money to be directed toward treatment. We who have been involved in this issue agree wholeheartedly.

No jail time, though. Each week when I do my volunteer work at Alderson Federal Prison Camp, I meet women who are there because they were peripherally involved in a different side of the OxyContin issue. Our federal drug laws do not provide for treatment in lieu of incarceration. Those executives will never see the real damage they've caused: the children raised in foster care, the careers ruined, the lives wasted, the grieving families, the funerals. They'll pay their fines and get on with their lives. Being branded as criminals won't hurt them the way it does the thousands of men and women who are serving time because they sold this drug to an addict on the street, instead of to a doctor in an office.

There are many doctors in prison because of OxyContin, as well. Some were what we call "pill mill" doctors – they saw that freely prescribing OxyContin would be good business and they cashed in. But others prescribed it according to Purdue's package insert, and their patients died after taking it as prescribed. Lawsuits, trials and convictions followed.

At any rate, this chapter of this book is done, a bittersweet ending to a long fight for justice. I'm glad I was there. And after meeting the families, I'm acutely aware that there's more work to be done.

Tomorrow we'll get back to our regularly scheduled programming. Thanks for reading.

Surprise! A Thursday quote day!

We have been taught to believe
that negative equals realistic
and positive equals unrealistic.
Susan Jeffers

I'll be away from the computer for the next couple of days. So Thursday is the new Friday this week.

I think today's quote pretty much sums up where my head has been at lately.

Remember when I started training for the Country Music Half? And I learned that it's not likely you'll lose any weight while you're race-training? And how I was totally okay with that? Well, it's starting again, but this time I'm not okay AT ALL with it.

Since January I've gained nine pounds (14 since last fall). This is not acceptable! It's also not helpful when you're lumbering down a road at 12mph.

My intake has been fairly steady, between 1200 and 1400 calories per day. I'm exercising six days a week from 45 to 60 minutes each day.

The sodium count the last couple days was a real eye-opener, and I was able to slash that number in half yesterday.

The way I interpret today's quote is that not losing weight during training [negative] is something I should accept. Losing weight during training [positive] ain't gonna happen.

Just knowing that's the way it was before is making it easier for me to accept it now. And I'm not even one week into training! This is the lightest week of the schedule, fewer miles than what I've been doing on my own. There's no reason I have to accept the reality of not being able to shed pounds preparing for another half.

What I do have to do is be much more vigilant about food. My nutritional analysis says I'm not getting enough protein [only about 80gm/day] and I'm getting too much fat [slightly less than 60gm/day, which is more than I'd like]. Carbs have gone through the roof, but they're good carbs. Heh.

I want to break free of the commonly held theory that losing weight during training is not just hard, but impossible. This may be the beginning of Bloody Head Syndrome, and if you think it is I hope you'll keep your thoughts to yourself. I need cheerleaders! Bands! Pep squads!

And you do, too. Isn't that why we're all here, tap-tap-tapping away, sending these messages out into the world with the hope that someone on the other end will see it, read it, get it?

What negative belief have you accepted for your life? More importantly, what unrealistic expectation are you willing to turn upside down? Let's make it happen!

One more quote this morning:

I'm not worthy!
Mike Myers as Wayne in Wayne's World

Grumpy Chair left a comment for Wendy yesterday in which she said when she doesn't feel like working out she thinks of three people: Wendy, Laura and me.

I sooooooo don't deserve that, especially after yesterday. I did my pyramid weight routine, and also did some bench moves, but when I got on the rowing machine I only lasted six pathetic minutes. SIX! I think my arms were just so plumb tuckered out [that's Southern-speak] from the lifting that I couldn't pull that rope any longer. I even tried reducing the resistance to make it a little less challenging. No go.

Next rest day I'll have to break up my workout sessions – maybe do the weights early and the rowing later in the day. At any rate, thanks to GC for putting me in such good company, but I really don't qualify.

Salt 'n' Pepa

The title of today's post is an allusion to my sodium, um, issues, but it's really a hair post.

First, I discovered I could track lots of nutritional elements – way more than just protein, carbs and fats – with my CalorieKing software. My sodium levels the past two days have approached 5000mg. No wonder the scale is being cranky! I'm not sure why I stuffed my face with more salty stuff yesterday. I'm not really following menu plans, but trying to eat what I want [still sugar-free!] only when I'm hungry. So why do I want salt? I really need to get a handle on this one because I don't like feeling like this and I don't like the scale feedback.

The other day Mr. Shrinking Knitter pointed out that my hair was definitely getting grey. Imagine that! I'm 56 and a grandmother of three and I have a few grey hairs! But I got a haircut yesterday and even I noticed the glints of silver reflected from the mirror. And I wasn't even wearing my glasses. My hairdresser said I definitely had some salt in my pepper, and offered to do a "stain," which would blend it all together. [Is that what "Just for Men" does?]

I declined. It's enough of a chore to get a trim every five weeks; I don't care to spend any more time or money on hair maintenance. She was cool with that, and said not everyone wants or needs to be "chemically dependent." Heh.

I'm not doing very well transitioning from one topic to another lately. [How's that for a segue?] At our little wellness center, you can track your walking mileage and when you log 90 miles you get a t-shirt that says "I walked to Charleston" on the front. Ninety more and they add "And back" on the back of it. So I guess that's where I got the idea to find two cities that are approximately 348 miles apart. The back of the atlas is a good resource.

I did four miles yesterday, as Wendy predicted, but split one into a walking warm-up and cooldown. The schedule said to do three at 13:24; I did my three at a 12-minute pace.

When I printed out my training schedule [from Runner's World], I said I wanted the intensity to be hard. But you also have to put in a race pace, and my race paces are pretty slow. The combination of slow pace/hard intensity appears to be 4.5 mph "easy" runs and 5.5 mph tempo runs. IF I want to improve my times, I think I'll have to work in some speed drills on my own. The most likely way I'll do that is the old bounding-up-a-hill trick, to lenghten my stride.

I won't be doing that soon, though. Still. Too. Hot. And. Humid.

Today is another rest day. Already! I'm getting ready to feed the horses, and will come back to lift weights and try for half an hour on the rowing machine. About the longest I've been able to go lately is 20 minutes. It's more a boredom factor than fatigue, though.

"Hold on tight cuz tonight Salt and Pepa's gettin' swift."