Same old song...

So, I kinda forgot that I had a blog. Sort of like I kinda forgot that I wanted to lose weight and get into shape.

I have a really short memory.

But I finally *did* remember, thanks to some crazy health issues and the increasing level of tightness in my khakis. So I pulled up this blog, and read through the older entries. And it was a series of post after post reading, essentially, "Oh gee - I fell off the wagon! Oh gee - I never exercise! Hee hee! Isn't that adorable/funny/charming/relatable?"

But it's not. It's a sign of a lack of maturity, a lack of self-control, and a general lack of having all my stuff together as an adult woman should.

Either I have control of my life, my body, my health - or I don't.

And I do.

So, it's back on the Weight Watchers train, and I've joined a running challenge here at work. I'm running 10 miles a week. And by "running" I mean "shuffling along in two-minute increments punctuated with lots of walking and wheezing uncontrollably". Since it's been surface-of-the-sun hot around here lately, I've been doing my running on the elliptical trainer and the resistance settings on that sucker are kicking my tail. I'm looking forward to cooler weather so I can run outside and give myself a break.

(Even though there isn't a level road surface within four miles of my home. I've looked.)

Here we go, kids. There is literally no turning back. I'm 33 years old, and it's either change my life now or pay for my choices for the remainder of the time Jesus allows me to wander around on this earth.

I'm going to need lots of His (and your!) help.

Blar!

Oh friends, what a month it's been! I was flying pretty high in early December, loving the new Weight Watchers program changes that let me eat all the fruit I want for zero Points values. It's purely psychological, I know, but for some reason when something's "free" I'm going to take more of it. And when it's delicious, fiber-filled fruit my body was SO HAPPY. I was dropping pounds and my digestive system was humming along like a UNI Men's Glee Club member at the Christmas Show. :)

I started the Couch to 5K training program, and by the middle of week two was really enjoying myself. I had just started to think of myself as "a runner" when I went BAM. Literally - in the parking lot of my office last Monday, on a patch of ice, and I hyper-extended my left knee again. I've done this twice since I injured it in 2007 at my brother's wedding, dancing with a drunk groomsman. That's an occupational hazard for bridesmaids that no one ever warns you about!

Finally went to see my family doctor yesterday, after a week of hobbling around and trying various knee braces, and the news was OK. The x-rays showed no damage to the knee joint, and the tendons surrounding it appear to be intact. The doctor thinks I pulled the quadriceps tendon around the knee, and nothing but rest, ice, elevation, and a healthy dose of anti-inflammatory drugs will do the trick. If it's not better in two weeks, I'm supposed to go back for an MRI to see if the tendons have been torn or otherwise damaged.

So what have I done? I've been cushioning my injured knee with a steady diet of chocolate and red wine, accompanied by massive amounts of Chinese food. Sensible, no? I'm afraid to even go NEAR the scale - not that I could, since getting on the scale requires that I balance myself on one leg, which I can't do right now. Blar.

So, we begin again the slow process of climbing back onto the wagon. Seriously - I've been farting around with this since August, and just when I get on what feels like a good track something happens to throw me off again. Granted, I tend to make it easier to get myself throw off by jumping off the wagon into piles of Chinese food. I'm a VERY slow learner.

So, the plan for 2011? For the first two weeks of it, anyway? Try to hobble down to the basement "gym" every day for a session with the punching bag and/or resistance bands, and laying off the Chinese food for a while. I make no promises about the red wine, however. :)

Happy New Year, friends! May our year be merry and bright - and injury-free! :)

Talking turkey

Isn't everyone today? But I really don't care about turkey - take it, leave it, not dark meat (ever!) - so tomorrow's centerpiece just doesn't do much for me. It's the side dishes, friends - THE SIDES. Scalloped corn, cranberry relish, cranberry salads (not the cranberry jelly that actually still tastes like the can), pumpkin pie, and dinner rolls, dinner rolls, dinner rolls. I've never met a carbohydrate I didn't like, so tomorrow will be like nirvana for me.

I have plans to work out first thing tomorrow morning, before heading to my aunt's house to help her with her banking, then heading to ANOTHER aunt's house for the annual feast. Let's see if those plans actually come to fruition. Check back and see if I did it!

I'm trying (inspired by my fellow weight-loss blogger Sarah) to come up with a fun challenge to do in 2011. Sarah's been baking her way through The Bread Bakers Apprentice, but my aforementioned carb addiction makes me afraid to do that. I love this site - GreenLiteBites - so maybe challenging myself to make a new recipe (or three!) from that site each week will help? I need to get much better at planning and preparing healthy meals, rather than defaulting to whatever is in the pantry or on my way home from work.

Additional inspiration for weight loss - Sarah's getting married! My goal is to be the second-hottest woman at her wedding; Sarah being the first. :) She hasn't set a wedding date yet, but I'm telling myself she's getting married in April so I can kick it into gear.

Oh yeah - the scale. I'm up about 1.5 pounds this week, which isn't bad considering that I haven't really tracked anything this week. And that ain't likely to start again anytime soon. But I can't just coast through the holidays, as tempting as that might be - after all, Gerard Butler is waiting for me in Dublin and I can't run the risk of my squishy bottom lapping over the bar stool in the pub and scaring him away. Yep, my fantasy life is almost as rich as my dessert preferences.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Slowly...

So, I'm slowly climbing back on the wagon. I haven't done much by way of exercise this week, but the scale this morning showed I'm down 3 pounds from last week. I love it when the Weight Watchers site gives me those "you're losing weight too fast" notices from week to week. Yeah, not so much. :) I'm down 8.2 pounds since I started the program at the end of August, which gives me an average loss of 0.8 pounds a week - totally healthy, and PAINFULLY slow. Oh well.

I leave for my birthday trip to Dublin on Feb. 15 - that's 90 days, or just under 13 weeks from now. Averaging 1 pound per week, I could be down 20 pounds before I go. That's less than I'd like to be, but I'll take anything right about now. I had a dream the other night that I met up with a Gerard Butler look-a-like in Dublin, and if that isn't motivation to keep losing weight I don't know what is. :)

Scenes from my morning

Editor's note: Every thing in this post actually happened this morning. NOTHING has been embellished. Even I couldn't make this stuff up.

5:30 a.m. – Alarm begins blaring across the room. Fall out of bed (literally: roll over too close to the edge, slide out of bed and land on backside) and stumble over to turn off alarm. Head back to bed “for just a few minutes” because it’s cold and dark out here. Vaguely remember setting alarm for this unholy hour so you could get in kickboxing workout this morning, as brother’s birthday party is tonight.

7:26 a.m. – roll over and look at clock. Realize you must leave by 8 a.m. to get to work on time, and your unshowered state cannot continue. Run to bathroom.

7:46 a.m. – Showered. Teeth brushed. Now moisturizing all parts of face and neck that you are terrified will begin sagging soon, making you look like a shar-pei dog without the cuteness factor. Carefully pat eye cream around eyes to take away puffiness.

7:48 a.m. – Realize that application of eye cream has irritated left contact lens, and now feels like a railroad tie is lodged between contact lens and eyeball. Begin squinting and blinking furiously. Getting worse. Hop around bathroom, chanting "Ow ow ow!" Finally remove, rinse, and reinsert contact and realize all this has completely counteracted application of eye cream. Left eye now bloodshot, giving you the appearance of having been on an all-night Johnny Walker bender. Very professional.

8:03 a.m. – Remove new tights from package, realize they have a snag. Thanks, Target. Gamble that snag will be hidden under knee-high boots. Gamble pays off. Spend four minutes coaxing faux-leather knee-high boots to zip over your calves, which are roughly the size of Christmas hams. Are successful, but now rather sweaty. Sacrifices must be made for fashion.

8:16 a.m. – Climb into car, snagging hem of long skirt on heel of faux-leather boots. Manage not to slam head against steering wheel while removing boot heel from hem. Fortunate, as head wounds would enhance Johnny Walker bender appearance.

8:28 a.m. – Hear the song “Jesse’s Girl” on radio, making you think of that jerk you dated five years ago named Jesse, who made you really like him then decided he’d rather date the woman who set you up with him. Try not to cry. Remember he's now married to that woman. Try harder not to cry. Long desperately for chocolate. Or Swedish Fish. Possibly both.

8:42 a.m. – Arrive at work. Find small container of Swedish Fish in desk. Remember stash of chocolate VitaTops in work freezer (100 calories and SO GOOD). Salvation. Remember brother's birthday party is tonight, complete with fantastic freaky family and adorable niece.

Gonna be an all right day.

Hear that?

That strange sound? It's kinda like... "WHOMP...thumpa...thumpa...thumpa..."

That was me, falling off the wagon and landing in a giant pile of Chinese food and Tootsie Rolls, then bouncing. Halloween was NOT good to me. Strike that - Halloween was VERY good, but not for my weight loss efforts. I pretty much went off the rails until this past weekend, eating any and everything that crossed my path. And that path seemed to intersect with lots of mini Three Musketeers bars.

So - onward. :)

Sunday I walked the Iowa State Fairgrounds 5K with Sarah Jane. Sarah is an awesome walking partner, and cheered me on as we chugged up the hills through the Fair Campgrounds. Thank you, Sarah, for keeping me going while I sucked wind like a defective balloon. I am still feeling those hills in my quadriceps today.

Have I mentioned how much I love the Fair and the Fairgrounds? That place and the events that happen there are some of the main drivers (besides my fantastically freaky family) for my still being in Iowa. Sure, there's an apparent dearth of tall, single men in their 30s who love Jesus, and airfares out of Des Moines to anywhere cool are (for the most part) ridiculous - but WE HAVE THE FAIR! Hands up if you agree with me...

The Fairgrounds 5K was a great event, with fantastic November weather. It was neat to see the Fairgrounds without the crush of mullet/tank top-sporting people packing the streets. There are some beautiful green spaces there that you usually can't see during the Fair because they're packed with caramel apple stands - which are also beautiful, but in a different way. The helpful signs at the mile markers told us when we'd burned off a bag of cotton candy, then a caramel apple (thereby extracting most of the enjoyment out of them for me), and finally a corn dog at the three-mile mark. Not helpful, Iowa State Fair people, if you want to keep your corn dog sales numbers increasing. :) Nevertheless, I had a blast and will be back for next year's event - but probably won't be sporting a swimsuit entirely covered in State Fair ribbons like one participant. A brave woman, she.

Now Sarah and I are looking for more race events in the coming months. Next up - the Jingle Jog at Gray's Lake in December, then the YMCA's Red Flannel Run in February. We will have quite an impressive collection of brightly-colored long-sleeve t-shirts by spring.

I also hit (quite literally) the kickboxing hard last night. I could only make it about 25 minutes, but they were a good 25 minutes. Sunday's walk really highlighted how far out of shape I'd gotten. Sarah made me feel better by pointing out that Sunday was the first really strenuous exercise I'd done in about eight weeks, and I was feeling it. Now it's time to claw my way back, and I started last night with a great session of bag work and some push-ups/sit-ups. I can still do full-on sit-ups, which is a point of pride for me. I am woman, watch me struggle to hoist myself into a sitting position!

Oh, yeah - the scale. I am up two pounds from my post-Vegas weight, which means I've gone back up about four pounds since the end of September. Easy come, not-so-easy go. But they'll go - until I fall off the wagon into a vat of Christmas cookies. :)

Avoidance

I got back from Vegas on Monday night, and am scared to get on the scale. Yes, I - a 32-year-old, 5'10" woman - am scared of a contraption made of metal and elaborate pully-weights-thingies.

I don't know why I'm so scared - I didn't go crazy eating-wise in Vegas (we didn't have time!). Yes, I probably had more McDonald's breakfast sandwiches than I should have (sausage is my drug), but I had to walk about half a mile from my hotel room to get them. And I was usually either pushing the stroller or toting my 30-pound niece as I walked. My big indulgence of the weekend was the overpriced margarita from Jimmy Buffett's Margaritaville on The Strip - but it was so stinkin' good it was worth it. And, again, we'd walked at least half a mile to get it.

So, even if I did gain weight, it probably won't be as bad as I thought. So why am I so afraid? Because I know me and my fatalistic, all-or-nothing way of thinking. If I have a big gain now, it will likely knock me off track for another several months. I'll fall off the wagon HARD again, and heaven knows when I'll pick myself back up. It's far too easy to go back to all-coffee-and-Swedish-Fish, all the time.

So, I'm easing myself back into routine, tracking Points, drinking lots of hot water with decaf tea, and waiting until Monday to get back on the scale. I'm hoping I won't have lost any ground at that point - and that I'll have enough energy to get up early enough to actually brave the basement stairs and get ON the scale.

All clear...

No time for a big post today, so quick updates:

• Down 0.5 pounds last week. Curses. It's still a downward motion, but each time I hope for bigger numbers. Perhaps I should be chanting "No Whammy" a la "The Price is Right" instead. Speaking of, did you know Drew Carey has lost 70 pounds in the last year? Must be all that running down the aisle for the Showcase Showdown...
• Went to the doctor yesterday and got the all clear for exercising and lifting heavy things again. No longer will my cute little niece need to stay on the floor! Hurrah! Hugs for everyone!
• My new punching bag has arrived at the store and is awaiting my pick-up. Let the pummelling begin.
• I leave Thursday night for a four-day vacation in Las Vegas with my family. I'm dreading stepping on the scale when I get back. I don't want to fall completely off the wagon, but c'mon - it's VEGAS. I want to have a drink (possibly several) and not worry about the points value of said drink (and its companions). I guess I'll do the best I can, and pay the piper on Tuesday when I get home.

Update

I totally forgot that I owed the Internet an update on my Monday weigh-in. The fact that the Internet hasn't risen up in open rebellion shows me just how important my updates really are, but hey - I'm writing this for me, not for you, Internet. So take that.

I was down a big ol' 1.3 pounds this week, which means I'm thisclose (1 pound) to being back where I was in early October. We'll see what the crazy 2.3 pound gain was all about - the doctor has me on new medication that is known to cause weight gain, and I've been on it for about eight weeks. The weight gain usually happens over three months, so I'm hoping this is it. HOPING.

So, seven weeks back on Weight Watchers, eight pounds - not bad. Not as fast as I want, of course, but since when did I ever get anything in life as fast as I want? I remember being disappointed that I didn't transform into a supermodel during 10 weeks at Farrell's, and having to tell myself, "Self, you didn't get this fat in 10 weeks, so it's not coming off in 10 weeks either, right? RIGHT?" (I tend to yell at myself a lot in my inner monologue. I'm kinda dramatic. Just in case you hadn't picked up on that.)

In fitness news, I've ordered my own freestanding punching bag which is currently being shipped to me. For the price of two month's at Farrell's, I'll be able to enjoy the stress-relieving benefits of pounding the crap out of something anytime I want. Plus, I won't have to listen to Motley Crue at 6 a.m. ever again. There is no downside here.

Decisions, decisions...

My father had something interesting to say last night.

(That sentence makes it sound like this is a monumental event. It isn't - my father often says interesting things. Most of them have to do with people who lived in our neighborhood 50 years ago whom I never met, but he does say interesting things on other topics as well. Moving on...)

He was watching me pack up my lunch for today, carefully measuring out grapes and low-fat granola, and said, "You know, Weasel (Shut up. That's my nickname in my family. Use it without my permission and I'll cut you.), you were never happier with yourself than when you were going to Farrell's. You used to come home from there with a big smile on your face every morning."

"Yeah," I replied, "and then I collapsed into a giant sweaty heap on the floor..."

But his comment got me thinking. I really did feel great about myself and my body when I was working out at Farrell's regularly, and I was really proud of what I had accomplished and what my body could do. And now I'm wondering - was it the program itself, or just the fact that I was pushing myself and achieving fitness goals I'd never achieved before? Can I do it on my own, or do I need the structure and external motivation of a program/class setting? I'd like to think I could do it on my own (and save myself the program fees and drive time) but I've clearly not been very successful at motivating myself. As I told the Farrell's Altoona manager when I signed up, and he warned me that he was going to push my fitness levels: "Clearly, I'm not having any success at kicking my own butt - I need you to do it for me. " I thought I had made progress past that point, but the past year shows I have not.

So - verdict? Do I head back to Farrell's (once the doc clears me on the 18th, that is) or try to kick my own butt at home? How do I get myself in "butt-kicking mode" without having an instructor and scary 80s music at 6 a.m. each day? :)

Rollercoaster... oooh oooh oooh...

[Great - now I'm going to have that song stuck in my head all morning. Way to go, Ivy...]

Weigh-in yesterday showed a whopping 2.3 pound gain. I can attribute it to lack of water consumption over the weekend, hormones, the fact that I discovered the glory of old-fashioned oats again on Sunday and had TWO bowls, the Flarah's cheesecake on Saturday, but - whatever. I'm not getting worked up about it at this point. I just don't have the energy. I got back on the scale again this morning, hoping that upping my water yesterday and keeping my POINTS low would help, and it did - to the tune of 0.3 pounds. Again - whatever. I'm not going to obsess about it until weigh-in next week. If I'm still up in this neighborhood, then more serious actions will be taken. I have no idea what those might be, but they'll be SERIOUS. :)

I went to bed at 8:45 again yesterday. I was hoping that by this point in my recovery process I would have graduated out of 3rd grade bedtimes at least into middle school, but clearly not yet. My body is in charge of this process, not me, so I've got to go where it's leading me right now. And it's leading me to bed, after large amounts of old-fashioned oats. See you when I emerge from the carbohydrate coma.

Motivation

I've decided when I get to goal weight, I'm buying these. Possibly in every color. I realize doing so may require me to go without niceties like food or gasoline for an extended period of time, but hey - sacrifices must be made for fashion.

Baby steps

Weigh-in yesterday showed I was down 0.2 pounds. As my father would say, "It's moving in the right direction..." Especially considering I haven't been able to move around much after surgery, and am still trying to get back into my normal routine. The last three nights I've gone to bed at 8:30. It's like being in 3rd grade again. Actually, considering leggings, giant belts, and white plastics sunglasses for guys are back in style, the world actually is like it was when I was in 3rd grade. Except now I can drive a car - and I no longer perm my hair.

I'm looking forward to being able to move around more freely again, and to lifting things over 10 pounds. It kills me when my niece launches herself at my knees and hugs me, and I can't pick her up. But I'm halfway through my recovery period, so it's all downhill from here!

I'm hopeful that I'll be back up to speed for the Minnesota Teen Challenge 10K on Oct. 16 - I'm walking with my friend Pati, and I may be walking very slowly. :) If you'd like to support me as I walk (at a moderate pace!) visit my fundraising page here. Teen Challenge is an amazing organization that helps people break free of chemical dependency, and this event is their first fundraising walk. I may have to investigate a hernia truss or something to get me through, but I'll be there! :)

Holy cats, this stuff is working...

Morning weigh-in today showed a loss of 3.7 pounds since last week. No telling how much of that was scar tissue the surgeon took out last Tuesday, but I'll take it!

It made me giggle that I got a "you are losing weight too fast" notice from the Weight Watchers Web site when I entered my weight today. Now, I know that it is a danger to lose weight too fast in that it compromises muscle tissue and leads to other health problems. But, in light of the week I've had, it ain't a bad way to begin a Monday. :)

Friday fail, Monday win, Tuesday trial...

So, it's been quite the week here in Ivy land. I started this post on Monday, and am just now able to sit upright long enough to finish it. Aaack.

Last Friday, my company hosted a tailgate party in honor of the upcoming Iowa-Iowa State bloodletting... ah, I mean, game. :) Sandwiches and cookies the size of my FACE were catered by QuikTrip, which is located at the end of our access road and I'm sure sees a ton of business from out employees. I chose the Chicken Cucumber Caesar Wrap, thinking with that many good things in the name it had to be relatively healthy, right? WRONG. I was halfway through it before I read the nutritional content and choked. How could there be 30 grams of fat in one wrap? And how could I finish the rest of it after reading that? But finish I did, as well as the white chocolate macadamia nut cookie the size of my face. FAIL. And the wrap wasn't even that great. (When I mentioned this to my friend Sarah, she said, "What? Ivy, are you saying that gas station food isn't of the highest quality?" Yeah, I know...)

But I redeemed myself on Monday, by posting a 2.8 pound loss for the week. YEAH, BABY! Take THAT, QT chicken wraps! :) But I didn't have long to savor my victory, as I had to get ready for the outpatient surgery I was having on Tuesday. And by "get ready" I mean "choke down two bottles of vile lemon-tasting cleanser that would send me running to the bathroom every 10 minutes for the rest of the night." Good times. But hey, nothing like a bowel cleanse to help with the weight loss efforts! Not that I'll be doing another one any time soon - like EVER.

Surgery Tuesday was OK - the doctor had to do a great deal more mucking around in my innards than she thought she would, which has made my recovery that much slower. Today (Saturday) is the first day I've been sitting upright more than I haven't, and my big accomplishment is that I can rise from a chair without grabbing for sturdy objects to use as I pull myself up. For a girl who this time last year was counting how many sit-ups she could do, not being able to actually sit up from bed without serious pain is quite an adjustment. This is the first time I can recall being seriously incapacitated, and I'm not a fan. Plus, the doctor found some things during surgery that lead her to believe that when Mr. Ivy Sprague *finally* shows up and we decide we want to have adorable redheaded babies, it may not be without some complications. That also threw me for a loop, and I'm still trying to deal with it. But I keep reminding myself that I serve a great big God, who could make little redheaded babies happen while I'm sitting at this laptop without medical or human intervention. And I fully believe He will when the time is right - and that He'll probably choose more conventional means. :)

All that being said, I'm drinking tons of water (especially now that it's easier to get up off the couch and make it to the bathroom!) and staying within my Points range for Weight Watchers all this week. My first post-surgery meal was old-fashioned oats with raisins and brown sugar, and it was one of the BEST things I've tasted in a long while. Beats gas station wraps all to heck. :)

Aloha, Interwebs...

Hey, friends. It's been a while since I posted, but that's because I've been so busy doing so AWESOME on Weight Watchers. :) Weigh-in yesterday morning showed a 1.5 pound loss, which was less than I was hoping for, but is still a loss nonetheless. I'll take it!

I've been finding all kinds of fantastic recipes on weightwatchers.com, including this one that I made last week (and just finished the leftovers for lunch today). Who would have thought that putting allspice and red pepper flakes on pork chops would make them so fantastic? And a pineapple salsa with apricots and cilantro - yum. That same night, I whipped up a pineapple angel food cake (super-tasty, and super-low-calorie) and felt the "aloha" all over the place. :) I even convinced Mom and Dad to try a turkey and mango creation, and they loved it. Dad was so funny, saying after he finished dinner, "Hey - let's remember this one. I'd like to see it again in a couple weeks..." I love it when Dad makes dinner entrees sound like blind date. :)

I'm still struggling with fitting in exercise. I've joined a workout challenge at the office, where we need to log at least four hours of activity every week. Doesn't matter what kind of activity, just as long as we get moving for four hours a week - and there are extra vacation days in the bargain if I can do it from now until Thanksgiving! There's a motivator!

Better food tastes better...

I was going to title this post "Good food tastes better..." but I rebel at the idea of labeling things "good food" versus "bad food". Food is food - it all boils down to calories that we take in and burn off (or don't). So, I'll choose "better" food to describe these, which I made for dinner tonight. Seriously - NOM NOM NOM. They are so very good, and there's plenty left for lunch tomorrow. NOM!! :) Put fresh ingredients into simple combinations, and NOM. :) Better food really does taste better.

I sat down last night with the weekly ads from Fareway and Hy-Vee, and planned out dinners for the week and made the shopping lists. The ads, plus some trusty resources on the Interwebs, gave me enough ideas to put together healthy meals for the whole week. I signed up for Weight Watchers Online again, and am using their handy recipe finder for ideas.

I've done a lot of thinking (if only thinking could substitute for weight-lifting - if it did, I would be RIPPED!) the past few weeks about why it's been so challenging for me to stick with my eating and exercise plans. And I think I've come to a conclusion: While my Farrell's Bodyshaping experience last summer was fantastic, and taught me so much about what my body was really capable of doing, it's a challenge for me to keep at it long-term. Farrell's is pretty much all or nothing, and that's great, because it's only 10 weeks. I can do anything for 10 weeks, and I did. And it worked. But can I do it that hard-core for the next 10 (or 20 or 30 or 40 or 50) years (Lord willing!)? That's the prospect I found daunting, and why I chose to go back to Weight Watchers.

When I was the thinnest I've ever been (those three glorious weeks in 2001 when I was a size 10) it was because of Weight Watchers. I like the plan, I like the flexibility, and I like the idea of not having to wait until a weekly "free day" to have Swedish Fish (don't judge me). But regardless of what plan I (or you) choose to follow, I have to remain committed and accountable. So what if I blow it and eat the entire container of Swedish Fish, and chase it with a margarita and a tub of Ben & Jerry's? That may be completely acceptable, if I have the calories left to do it and I account for it. Is it a smart idea? Nope. But it's acceptable, and that's all I need right now.

In so many areas of my life lately, I believe God is making slow, small changes that are going to last a lifetime. I want a healthy lifestyle to be one of them, and if slow, small changes are the way to get there, then here we go.

Blown off course...

Hey, friends. It's been pretty much a week of fail here eating/exercise wise - though I did march Mom out for a 25-minute power walk Monday night along our country roads. Tracked my food Monday through Wednesday, and I worshipped at the altar of Mistress Jillian on Tuesday (once I could walk up the stairs again, thanks to her squats) but then Wednesday just blew me all over the place. I've been dealing with some girly problems (which I won't detail here, to spare whatever male readers I may have!) since last winter, and they flared up big and bad Wednesday night and sent me to the ER Wednesday at 11 p.m. These are the nights I am glad I don't live alone, and have a parent nearby to fire up the SUV and drive me downtown. I was home from work recovering yesterday, and am pretty much back on track today (if you don't count the Whopper Junior and Swedish Fish on my desk right now. Swedish Fish - I KNOW. Why can't I quit you, little red bits of gummy goodness?!?).

I have to wait for the consulting physician to get back in town Monday, and then talk with her about scheduling exploratory surgery to determine the cause of said girly problems. Please know that this problem is NOT serious or life-threatening, but it is compromising my quality of life (see 11 p.m. ER trip above) so my doctors and I think it's time to dig deeper to see what's happening. Even if that digging requires a laproscope actually digging in ME. Eeek. As long as I can still bang out sit-ups when we're done, it's all good.

Back to Mistress Jillian this weekend! Bring it!

Locus of control

The title comes from a fancy-pants theory in social psychology, which basically boils down to whether people believe their happiness in life comes as a result of their own actions or results from forces outside their control. People with high internal locus of control think they "make their own luck" while people with external locus of control are turning to fate or chance for explanations. I first came across this term in college, thanks to friends studying education, and the phrase has come back to me time and again in the past decade as I look at how people respond to what life hands them. It came back to me yesterday as I thought over the events of the past few weeks.

Those of you who have rolled with me for a while :) know that I ceded control of my life and my future to Jesus a long time ago. And for the most part, it's been pretty fantastic. However, since I got back from my London trip things have been a little rocky. Jesus did some amazing things for my mind and my way of thinking about myself earlier this summer, but the revolutionized-self-image high has begun to fade a bit and I've found myself slipping back into old patterns. You know, the existing-on-a-diet-where-the-primary-components-are-coffee-and-Swedish-Fish, sleeping-in-until-the-last-possible-moment-before-work, letting-the-dust-gather-on-the-Jillian-Michaels-DVD-cases kind of patterns? (Even typing the line about coffee and Swedish Fish makes my stomach turn, and yet I've done it more times than I care to count in the last four weeks...)

I felt so much better about life and myself when I was exercising semi-regularly and eating... well, not "better" per se, but at least eating less junk. But I've allowed other things and other excuses to take me away from that and I've slid back into the old patterns of behavior and thinking. And I feel like crap. No more. NO MORE, I say. Jesus has pruned away those old patterns, and once He's cut them off they CANNOT grow back. With His help, I won't let them.

This last month I've been forced to think quite a bit about the things I can and cannot control in my life. Here's what I've settled on:

- I cannot control cancer, flood waters, and bad drivers on I-235.

- I cannot control the cute guy I met through ChristianMingle.com, who seemed totally in to e-mailing me for two weeks and has since been totally silent in the last two weeks. :::begin rant::: Through on-line dating I have met two different single men, a decade apart, who were pastors. They are the two who have treated me the worst in my decade of singleton life. You'd think it would be the other way around, wouldn't you? Is this something they're teaching in seminary now - how to dump Internet girls by disappearing from their In Boxes? Just write to me and tell me you're not interested anymore, Reverend Lamebrain... :::end rant:::

- I cannot control the crazy ways my body reacts to heat, hormones, and high stress levels - but I can control how I adapt to them.

- I cannot control the plan God has ordered for my life.

- I can control the way I seek after God's plan for my life, and the level of faith I place in His plan.

- I can control the foods I put into my body, and the thoughts I allow to occupy my mind.

- I can control the way I react to the absence of e-mail from Cute ChristianMingle.com Guy (calling him Reverend Lamebrain probably isn't the best choice - but it made me laugh. And right now that seems like the best option.).

- I can control my lying down and my rising up, and the activities I choose to do in between.

- I can control my Saturday mornings, and spending them going back to Level 1 of Mistress Jillian's "30 Day Shred" as I did this morning. (Squats. Ow. Double ow.)

- I can control my Saturday morning on November 7, when I've signed up to run my first 5K race at the Iowa State Fairgrounds. (Yikes. Double yikes.)

- I can choose, today and every day, how I think about myself and my body, and choose to thank God that He has made me just exactly the way I am - beautiful and strong, getting stronger every day, and coming each day closer and closer to the amazing woman He has designed me to be for His glory.

I choose life.

I choose glory.

I choose hope.

I choose to step away from my BlackBerry, to stop wondering why it isn't buzzing with a new e-mail, and go run.

Run far (well, at least run one kilometer to start).

Run fast.

Run hard.

Run after Jesus.

And find myself along the way.

Now you...

CHOOSE.

But I'm not dead yet...

Well hello, Interwebs. Did you think I'd forgotten you? No, no - I've just been dealing with things like travel, heat waves, and family medical problems. I'm conveniently using those as excuses for not exercising and eating junk, then wondering why I'm so tired and don't have the energy to deal with all these things that are coming at me. Gee.

But those things should be wrapping themselves up (except the heat waves part - it is Iowa in summer, after all) and I'm planning to be back in the saddle soon. Stick with me, Interwebs - I'll be back.