Decisions

Okay, this post may be a little heavy for the normal tastes of my readership. Hopefully we’ll be back to fun tomorrow.

I didn’t go to boot camp this morning. The primary reason? I had too much to drink at the Renaissance Festival yesterday, and couldn’t make myself get out of bed at 4:30.

This tells me that I need to stop drinking alcohol. Not cut back; not stop for a little while. Stop completely. Today I took the MAST test, and it indicated that I show early signs of problem drinking. So I’m going to stop before I’m showing full-blown signs.

Some of the benefits I expect to see from cutting out alcohol:

• I’ll sleep better
  
• I’ll wake up better
  
• I’ll have clearer memories of celebrations/date nights/general fun stuff
  
• Trivia nights and pub nights will be a lot cheaper (the pub has awesome live Irish music; I’ll continue to go but from now on I’ll be the designated driver)
  
• I’ll probably start to drop weight; alcoholic beverages not only have a lot of calories, but they also dull your “I’m full” trigger
  
• I will be able to point and laugh at my coworkers when they get stupid drunk at the Christmas party

Just to be clear, this isn’t a big huge life-saving decision or anything. I’m not an alcoholic; I haven’t hit rock bottom; I’m just taking a proactive step to do something to improve my life. I’m also not going to be one of those non-drinkers who lectures people around them for enjoying a drink. This is my deal, not anyone else’s.

Oh, and a secondary reason I skipped boot camp this morning? Today was running, and the thought of running outside with the swarms of godforsaken cicadas dive-bombing me absolutely made me shudder. They should be gone in a week or two, thankfully.

I Do Still Work Out. I Just Don't Write About it as Much

So, now I have been coerced into doing a Spring half marathon with a couple of my online friends. We will most likely do one in Florida, so at least it will be flat.

I'll probably start the serious training in October, but for now, I just have to get my body used to running again. I've been doing spinning classes and Zumba for cardio lately because it's better on my knees, and they really needed a break. But running is another animal altogether.

So, one thing I'm going to do to get a little running under my belt in the meantime is join the adult soccer league at my YMCA. Maybe. I can only join if you don't already have to know how to play soccer. If they don't teach beginners, then I'm out of luck. My only soccer experience is watching Julia play. So we'll see.

Yeah. Not much to say today. Just a little snippet to try to get back into the swing of blogging.

Faster Than the Speed of the Brain

This post is going to seem pretty random. These thoughts were swirling through my head last night because my cat was particularly snuggly.

Shutty. I can be as warm and fuzzy as anyone else.

Well, with animals. With people not so much.

Anyway.

Last night, as mentioned, my cat was needy. He jumped onto my bed and snuggled up tight with his butt in the pit of my arm and his body across my chest, cheek-to-cheek with me. In my half-asleep daze, I brought up my free arm and started petting him, without thinking twice.

For some reason, this reminded me of the time there was a mouse in the house. I remember on some nights, before we were able to get the exterminators in (sorry, PETA people, I HATE MICE), I would be absolutely freaked-out paranoid that the little bugger was going to jump onto my bed at night. I don't know if mice do that; but I was scared of it anyway.

There's a point here. Be patient.

Now. Had a mouse actually jumped onto my bed as I was sleeping, I would have had an immediate response to shoot out of the covers like a rocket, catapulting the mouse across the room, screaming like a little girl, and then stroking out. No thoughts, no debate. Just reflex.

What this led my incredibly geeky brain to analyze was the amazing processing speed of our brains. When my cat jumps onto the bed and sticks his nose in my face, I immediately know that he is an animal that is safe to handle. I don't have to go through the long process of thinking "This animal is under my care, is clean, has been innoculated for disease, eats a controlled diet of non-contaminated food, and is not violent; it is safe for this animal to be on my bed."

My brain knows all those things to be true, and no doubt processes them, but all that goes through my head is "Awww! Kitty!!!"

For the mouse, all I would think is "AAAAUUUUAAAAUUUUGGGGGHHHHUUUUGGGHHH!!!"

I don't know why this stuff amazes me so. It's really pretty elementary; but when you're in an exaustion-induced, perfectly relaxed, ready-to-sleep state, and then a cuddly kitty jumps up purring like mad and snuggles in cozy, relaxing you even further as well as giving you a little shot of happy, your brain thinks weird stuff.

Shutty.

Because I Care

I am seeing from my site meter that people are visiting my blog, only to find that I have not updated since their last visit. This post is to remedy this (for the time being).

So. Today I took Julia to have her braces put on. In order to understand the next bit of my post , you must be familiar with this:

Beyonce/Justin Timberlake SNL Skit

So. Julia is a little upset about how her speech is affected by her new braces. She had to have some barriers put on her back teeth to prevent her mouth from closing all the way, because her top teeth could knock the brackets off her bottom teeth without them.

So, she is talking with a little bit of a lisp, until she gets used to it.

On the way from the orthondontist, I asked her to say for me, "We're the dancers."

She said it.

It sounded just like Justin Timberlake in the skit.

We cracked up.

Then, while we were still laughing, I asked her to say, "Dance biscuits."

She did.

We cracked up again.

This calmed her down, and boosted her confidence to go to school with her new braces. If any stupid jerkbag made fun of her or laughed at her, at least she could say that she had laughed at it first.

Social crisis averted.

I am so fortunate to have such a cool daughter.

*groan*

Tonight, Brittnee put me through a very taxing lower-body strength and toning workout. It was a great workout; but afterwards, I had to run five miles.

Ouch.

I could not skip the run because on Saturday I have to run my longest distance ever, ten miles, and I feel like it is important that I follow the training schedule exactly this week to prepare.

My neck and back were already sore from being too tense while doing chest and triceps yesterday; now my hips, butt, thighs, knees, and calves are going to be sore and fatigued all day tomorrow.

And tomorrow is spin class.

Joy.

I am in need of one more glass of wine and a good night's sleep. I think I will make that happen right now.

Somebody Please Talk Me Out of This

Whose big idea was it for me to train for a half marathon? That person needs to be slapped with a fish.

Oh. Right. It was my idea. Never mind.

Today the group ran eight miles. Eight. Miles. It sucked.

There is a famous running guru (and by guru I mean douchebag) who claims that there is no such thing as a bad run; there are only learning runs. Well, today I learned that sometimes you have a bad run. So, I guess in a way he's right.

My short runs had been rough all week; so I knew that today was going to be tough. Today, by mile three I was starting to feel fatigued. That is when I knew that it was going to be even worse than I had anticipated. One of the coaches ran with me to the turnaround at mile four, and that helped a lot. I ran most of the way up to mile 5; then it felt like I had been hit with a truckload of bricks. The walk breaks became frequent during the last three miles. I ended up finishing in 1:45.

My current condition: my right knee is inflamed and pops around a bit in the socket if I bend it too far; the bottoms of my feet hurt; the arch of my right foot doesn't feel quite right; my fingers are swelled up like sausages; and I stink so bad I could make Right Guard turn left.

And I have tons of stuff to do today. Oh, the joy.

Today's Run

Today I ran seven miles. I was supposed to run eight, but I missed a turn on the course and had to improvise the best I could. When I mapped it on mapmyrun.com, it turns out that I was only a mile short. Not too bad, considering I had no idea what eight miles felt like.

I have some sort of minor calf injury that is really nagging me after my runs. Tomorrow is a rest day, then Monday is spinning class instead of running, so hopefully that will give it some time to heal.

I am very sleepy right now, as I had a truckload of stuff to do when I got home from my run this morning. I've been going almost nonstop all day, with a couple of Facebook breaks. I am going to bed.

Goodnight.

One of Those Nights

Tonight was one of those nights when the reasonable part of my brain was completely pummelled by the fatgirl part of my brain.

Fortunately, this does not happen very often anymore; but when it does, resistance is futile.

Here's how the dialogue went inside my head tonight:

Fatgirl part: Peanut butter. We desperately need peanut butter. Right now. Now. I SAID NOW!!

Reasonable part: We shouldn't be hungry; we had a decent dinner, and all our nutritional needs have been met today. We really should be satisfied and...

Fatgirl part: PEANUT BUTTER PEANUT BUTTER PEANUT BUTTER NOW NOW NOW

Reasonable part: Okay; let's have a small serving of peanut butter on some celery...

Fatgirl part: Peanut butter sandwich. Big glop of peanut butter on soft yummy bread. Now. NOW.

Reasonable part: Okay, well, then let's enjoy it; I'll toast the bread and it will be nice and flavorful so we won't need as much...

Fatgirl part: &*^% TOASTING IT TAKES TO FREAKIN LONG JUST GIVE ME THE PEANUT BUTTER SANDWICH I NEED THE SANDWICH RIGHT NOW GIVE IT TO ME GIVE IT TO ME...

Reasonable part: ...


Yeah. Fatgirl won tonight, and I wolfed down a very yummy peanut butter sandwich. That isn't so bad, but I really shouldn't have been hungry. I know that that sort of thing is going to happen every now and then. Fatgirl is just too strong to fail every time. She's like way more powerful than Lex Luthor.

I suppose I have to throw her a peanut butter sandwich every once in a while to keep her in check.

Six. Miles.

Today I ran six miles.

That felt really good to type. I'm going to type it again.

Today. I. ran. six. miles.

That's almost 10 K for those who use the metric system.

It was not long ago that six miles would have exploded my internal organs.

The most amazing thing about the six miles that I did today is that I had a perfect opportunity to skip the run out of frustration. I was supposed to do six miles in a group run with Team in Training; but I had deleted the directions for how to get there from my email. It was a route that we had done once before, so I thought that maybe I could find it from memory; but I couldn't. I drove aimlessly until 7:00, when the run actually started, then headed back toward home.

My intention was to stop at the gym on the way home to do a six-mile hill program on the treadmill. When I got to the gym, the parking lot was empty. They didn't open for another hour.

Damn.

The old Nena would have gone home and made a mimosa.

I decided to run the greenway. The trail segment that was convenient to where I was is a three mile trail; out and back is six miles. Perfect. It's hilly, but I could walk when needed. It looked like rain, but heck, it might be raining on race day.

So I ran the three miles out and three miles back on the greenway. There was walking involved; but I ran a very respectable amount. I even did a little surge up some of the gentler hills to get a little spike in the heart rate.

Now I'm going to go take a much needed shower. Then I have laundry to do. w00t.

Steroids Rock.

No, I haven't started shooting the juice to improve my running time.

I finally went to a real doctor for my throat. It was so inflamed that he actually prescribed a round of steroid anti-inflammatories along with the antibiotics. I've never taken steroids of any kind before, but man, do they help with inflammation pain! I took today's dose at 8:00 this morning, and by noon I was able to eat without wanting to weep from the pain.

On my way to the doctor this morning, I was thoroughly convinced that he was going to tell me that I had an aggressive, alien, flesh-eating bacteria taking up residence in my throat and the only course of action was to just suffer it out while it eats the entire right side of my head. I was ready to ask if he could just give me a cyanide capsule to bite down on to speed up the process. He could bill my estate (since my insurance doesn't pay for diddly).

Turns out it was just a run-of-the-mill (though I was right on the aggressive part) non-streptococcal bacterial infection. Steroids and antibiotics should have it cleared up shortly. I know you were all worried.

So I won't be showing up in any super-secret area 51 medical journals with my half-eaten head preserved in a formaldehyde jar. All in all, I think that is for the best.

This Post is Not Entertaining...

No kidding. It's more like a diary entry that I'm writing for my own benefit. You're welcome to read it if you'd like, but I feel quite certain that you will be bored.

This morning I woke up with a very painful sore throat. I was scheduled to go on a 4 mile group run.

It was a tough call; I almost stayed in bed, but I dragged myself out, pulled on my running clothes, and headed out the door. I felt like hot sick, but I figured I didn't have the luxury of being sick before my run; I could be sick for the rest of the day afterwards.

So I made it to the group meeting place, listened to the pre-workout talk from the coach, and headed off with the group for 4 miles. I knew I would be slow today, but there were others in my pace group for most of the time, so my pace must have been okay. I did have to stop to walk a couple of times, but not as often as I thought I would. It's really amazing what your body can learn to do with some training.

In my under-the-weather-cloudy-headedness, I left the house without my heartrate monitor and stopwatch, so I have no idea how long the run took. That's probably best, because on a day like today, just finishing should have been the goal, and I did that; so I should focus on the positive, what I did do, and not worry about what I didn't do.

I'm not sure whether I really should have gone this morning or not. I stopped at the Little Clinic in Kroger on my way home to get my throat swabbed to make sure I don't have strep throat (I don't). I got home around 9:00, and I immediately brewed myself some hot herbal tea and sat in a hot bath for a while. Then I went back to bed and slept until noon. I did manage to get out of the house later to get desperately needed haircuts for Julia and myself. Now, at 6:00 in the evening, I think I may brew another hot tea and lay in bed with a book.

One request: if you read this, could you leave a comment? Just a "hi" or a "yeah, I read it." would be fine. I can see in the stats that people read my blog, but I don't know who reads it, and I'd love to find out to whom I'm talking. Thanks!

Working Post Christmas Day

...I would just rather be home today.

Christmastime!

Christmas always totally stresses me out until I have everything finished. I complain incessantly for weeks, declaring my hatred for shopping, mourning my lack of time to finish anything, and decrying my inability to make the house look festive. I am the biggest, baddest Grinch on the planet.

Then I get everything done.

All of a sudden, Christmas becomes the magical and exciting time it's supposed to be! I can't wait to travel up to Kentucky to see my family (this year I'm staying overnight at my brother Wymon's house, and it's going to be so much fun!). Watching the kids open their presents is as much of a treat for me as it is for them. Christmas Eve breakfast with my Mom, brothers, sisters-in-law, niece and nephews is always a wonderful time of bonding, laughing, and conversing. It's usually the only time of the year that we are all together, and it is just wonderful. I love my family so very much. No one in the world has a family like mine; we are a truly unique and wonderful group.

Then Julia and I travel back to our house to sleep, and wake up at home on Christmas morning. I always love watching Julia open her presents. She's growing up, but the excitement of getting gifts is still there. She is so gracious and appreciative; giving to her is a true joy.

So, a happy, happy Christmas to all my readers. I hope you have a peaceful, loving, and rewarding holiday.

Great Start to a Birthday Lunch

Okay, so I have a birthday story.

Best guy friend, Andy, wanted to meet Julia and me at Hooters to buy us dinner for my birthday. So we decided to meet at 3:00 (late lunch/early dinner).

I got almost there and I ran. out. of. gas.

I am a moron.

I had forgotten that my car dinged at me on the way home from KY on the previous night. You get one warning with my car; after that you have to actually *look* at the gas gauge.

So I had to call him on his cell and ask him to come get me to take me to a gas station. He was very gracious about it; if it had been him calling me, I would have LMAO.

So, he pulls into the parking lot where I had coasted in, and I get out, and as I'm walking to his car, I slide on a big sheet of invisible ice and bust my right knee into oblivion.

I had not been drinking at this point.

He still didn't laugh at me*. He is truly a great guy. Maybe a saint. I would have been howling.

So I hobble into his car, we go get the gas, and on the way back to my car, we see a black hearse pass us in the oncoming traffic.

He looks at me and says, "This is not a good sign. Oh, look, locusts."

Happy birthday to me.



*Of course, Julia was cracking up at this point. She is, after all, my offspring.

Addendum: I ordered a grilled chicken breast spun in 911 sauce. The fact that I did not get the breaded and fried chicken wings is huge for me.

Happy Halloween!

So, it's Halloween and I've had one set of trick-or-treaters. They weren't even really dressed up. I always thought dressing up was the best part. It was sad, really.

I dressed up. I carved pumpkins. I even have spooky music playing on a boombox on my porch. Halloween is supposed to be a fun night when you can be silly, creative, creepy...all those things you really want to be on a regular day.

I'm dressed as a gypsy witch; it's kind of a costume I improvised using the outfit I bought this year at the renaissance festival. Those suckers are expensive, so I was determined to get more than one use out of it. It's freaking my cat out a bit. He wouldn't do very well as a witch's familiar, I don't think. He's a big baby.

I didn't think the candy would get to me, but having it sit around with no kids to hand it to, it's starting to call my name. I've had some Reeses and some SweetTarts. Now I feel all icky and gross. Bleh.

Maybe the kids will start showing up soon and I can get this candy out of my house. Julia and her friend will be back before long, and they'll both have sacks of candy, too. This really is an unhealthy holiday.

In the Spooky Spirit of Halloween

I'm going to share a personal terror of mine (doesn't that sound like fun??).

I suffer from Sleep Paralysis with Hypnopompic Hallucinations. That is a fancy medical term for saying that occasionally, I will wake up, be unable to move or speak, and I see, hear, and feel things that are not there.

Before medicine and science knew what was going on here, people thought that this was caused by a witch / demon / ghost entering your bedroom and torturing you. It was said that the entity would sit on you (thus preventing movement) and cover your nose and mouth (there is often a smothering feeling associated with the condition) while its counterpart would wreak havoc in your home.

During my last bout (about two weeks ago), I heard someone come in through my garage door, which has a very distinct sound when opened and closed. I heard this person/thing walk up the stairs, open my bedroom door, and felt the person/thing LAY DOWN BESIDE ME ON THE BED. I was facing away from where I felt the presence, so I did not see it. All this time, I can't move; I can't scream; I can't force myself to snap out of it. I am helpless and terrified.

These are not dreams; they are hallucinations, and are VERY, VERY real seeming. It's always familiar sounds and sensations; never something outlandish that I could just blow off as "it couldn't really happen." I've heard someone rummaging through the drawers in my bathroom; turning on and typing on the keyboard of my computer; using my coffee maker; unloading the dishwasher (too bad that one wasn't real); and other things like that. It's really, really awful.

Vanderbilt Center for Sleep Disorder Study wants to do a study on me, but since it is random and I have no way of knowing when it will happen, they really can't. So I can't be treated for it, since no one knows what causes it. It sucks.

Blog Merger

You may notice that there are way more posts here on my blog now. That is because I compiled my personal blog into this one, so I don't have to maintain two separate blogs anymore.



So, this one isn't going to be strictly diet and fitness anymore. There will be some general, everyday bloggy stuff. Check out some of the funnier ones, including Bye, Bye, Birdie and Bikram (Hot) Yoga. Others are random stuff about life, my kid, and general observations.

I'm still here

I know that I haven't posted for a while. It just seems like it will get boring if I blog about every single workout, every single food issue, blah, blah, blah. I'm still doing ST with Brittnee; I'm still running on the treadmill; I've added some spin classes to my cardio routine to mix things up a bit; and that's about it.

I'm thinking about taking the everyday life posts from my other blog, Sic faciunt omnes, and incorporating it into this blog, making this blog an all-encompassing life and fitness blog. That way, I will only have one blog to maintain, and there will be more frequent updates.

While I'm here, I might as well relay an amusing story that happened to me on Sunday. Julia and I met with an old college friend of mine for lunch at Hooters. I hadn't seen him in ten years, so I was really excited about having some beer and hot wings with my friend.

Well, guess who is a Hooters waitress?

Brittnee.

Busted.

She tried to tell me some good choices I could make food-wise, but come on, who eats a flippin' salad at HOOTERS?

I definitely paid for it at Monday's workout, though. :-) She actually told me some really decent sounding things I can order next time (not salads) that won't make me feel deprived, but are a lot healthier than hot wings and fried pickles (the beer stays)!

My Favorite Ghost Story

It's my favorite because it's true.

My family owns a funeral home in a small town. I grew up with it, and it never occurred to me that it should be creepy.

When the funeral home was not busy (i.e., no bodies), my best friend, Suzan, and I would regularly play there. It had great big rooms with lots of space to play, a soda machine, bathrooms handy - it was a great playhouse.

One day, Suzan and I (we were probably around 7 or 8) were playing in the chapel area (which connected via double doors to the casket showroom), and we looked up to see an adult male-sized gloved hand pull the double doors shut. No big deal. It was probably my Dad or his business partner Doug, or one of my brothers.

Um, no. After playing for a little while longer, we went up the hill to my house, and found out from my Mom that Dad and Doug were out on a business call. Two of my brothers were out playing golf, and my third brother was in town doing something or other and had been gone all day. Everyone who could have been a reasonable person to be in the casket showroom was away.

So we think the hand must have been a shadow and the doors were sucked shut by a draft, right?

RIGHT?

No.

We go BACK to the funeral home (we really didn't understand how creepy this was) and looked in the casket room. This sounds like a made-up ghost story, but I swear on all that is holy, this is the truth...

There was a large black glove laying on a closed casket beside the double doors.

Bye, Bye, Birdie

I was so excited this morning, because when I stepped on the scale I was down a pound; but my buzz was quickly killed by a bird flying into my den when I opened the door to my garage. Not wanting to come home to a house full of bird poop, I spent much, much precious morning time trying to coax the little shit to fly outside.

If you've never tried to get a bird to go where you want it to go, let me try to explain what that is like. You've heard the term "herding cats?" Piece of cake by comparison. Birds are wiley, spastic creatures with limitless energy and zero sense of direction.

At one point, it hid behind my trophy case, where my husband's pool cue fell on it. Let me just add here that until this happened, I did not know that birds could scream. I thought I had killed it, and I felt horrible, horrible, REALLY HORRIBLE. All I had wanted was for it to get the frack out of my house and be free! Why did you have to go and get yourself killed, you little dummy?

Then, I saw its little beak open and close. Great. The poor thing was not dead; just badly injured and probably dying. Now I feel even WORSE, because I can't kill it (ew ew eeeeew) to put it out of its misery; but I can't just let it suffer endlessly until it dies...

So, I get a plastic bag to drape over it so I can sweep it out of the house. Maybe a cat will come and kill it quickly so it doesn't suffer so much. That will make a nice meal for some random cat. A nice little circle-of-life bonus that I can maybe convince myself to feel okay about. I drape the bag over it, and guess what? The little f@cker flies over to the other corner of the room! He is okay, he was just stunned! Yay! I'm not a birdkiller!

Crap. I still have a bird in my den.

By this time, I have to get my butt out the door, or Julia will be late for school. I'm already going to be 30 minutes late for work.

So, I'll be coming home to a den full of bird poop. Good times, good times.