Ten and a half is a beatiful thing!

I haven't timed a run in ages because I'm stop watch challenged. I forget to bring it, or forget to start or stop it, or accidentally reset it in the middle of my run, so I usually don't bother.

This boy and I are running 5k's together this summer (sans the tux).

In the past I have struggled to break a twelve minute mile (yup, I'm nothing if not speedy). But lately, I've been pushing to lengthen my stride, literally, not in the figurative LDS sense. I had no idea if it had made a difference.

This morning, Michael and I hit the pavement for a two miler, stop watch in hand. I remembered to start it, put it in my pocket to prevent resetting and, miracles of miracles, actually remembered to stop it at the end of the run. And guess what? We ran two miles in exactly twenty-one minutes. A ten and a half minute mile is a beatiful thing!

Ignoring the Ticker

See that ticker in the right hand corner? The one that says I'm three pounds into my second ten pound loss? Yup, it's a lie. It's was true when I last changed it, but not so much anymore! The ticker is supposed to help motivate me, but I only change it when I'm losing. When I'm gaining, I ignore it completely.

It's a fair mite off at the moment and that's why I'm going back to weight watchers in the morning. Yup, apparently, I'm back at a place in my life where I need to pay someone and step on the scales for a total stranger in order to keep myself accountable in the eating department. Pitiful, but what ya gonna do?

I'm actually pretty excited. My friend who is deaf is joining with me. I get to interpret the class for her and we'll try to motivate each other. I'm not a licensed interpreter, just a friend who tries to sign, but I LOVE it! Interpreting for her will be a fun challenge (I'm pretty good at church words, but weight loss words, not so much.)

Hopefully, I'll be able to make myself change the ticker to reflect reality soon, but until then, you can find me at weight watchers every week. A bit poorer, and slightly more svelte.

Am I losing the War?

Is anyone else tired of the battle?

You journal, say no to desserts, get better acquainted with vegi's but can't remember what a big mac tastes like, spend relentless hours hitting the pavement and hefting weights, for months (and years). The weight sluggishly drops, quarter pound by measly quarter pound. Eventually, you get there, sixty pounds lighter, weight watcher's goal weight. It feels soooo good! You get rid of all of your "fat" jeans and sweaters. You did it!!

But you only stay at goal for a week -- one pitiful week. Yup, I got one free week at weight watchers and then had to start paying again. I was through with the counting every point, you-bite-it-you-write-it lifestyle. Didn't want to live the rest of my life that way, so although I kept exercising and tried to eat consciously, I stopped the regimented thing and the pounds crept right back on my hips, thirty of 'em over the next year and half (okay, I'm lying, it was really thirty-five, but that crosses that half-of-what-I-lost line and I refuse to go there!)

I now play around with the same ten pounds, it's a yearly cycle, but at the end of the year I'm back where I started. No net gain.

There's no point to this post. I just wanted to whine. I'm currently down 8 pounds from my normal fat place and pretty determined to hold stable through the holidays, but I'm battle weary and almost ready to throw in the towel and simply enjoy the Halloween candy -- almost but not quite.

What's your favorite, easy to implement, weight loss tip? I need motivation.

Does the Journey Seem Long?

Slowly, you get there.

Pound the pavement regularly enough and 5k becomes doable again. Hop on the bike day after day and the miles are no longer insurmountable. Swim enough mornings and even a land lubber like me begins to approach the needed distance.

Fifty-six days until the triathlon. I'm in a very different place than last year. Not as panicked, determined to better my time, and on my way.

Heavy.

The weight battle and I have not been on speaking terms lately. Too much eating, too little moving, soooo many resolutions to do better that have fallen by the wayside, scattering debris in their path. But I'm back in the determined mode (when things are pitiful, you can get depressed or get determined, right?).

What brought on this new bout of determination you ask? A little breakfast conversation with Girlie-whirl.

"Momma, I'm gonna have girl milk every day now instead of boy milk" (pink lids versus blue lids).

"You are? How come?"

"'Cuz girl milk doesn't have any fat in it."

"Oh, sweetie, you don't need to worry about fat in your milk."

"How come?"

"Because you're skinny minney."

"Does that mean you're large as a barge?"

Nuf said!

Coming Clean

My weight has been creeping up since mid December. It's not a pretty sight. I've stopped checking my families weight loss blog and started skipping the body test on the Wii-fit. I don't want to face the weight gain so I avoid things that remind me. But I can't avoid getting dressed each day and it's getting painfully obvious that it's past time to do something.

Although I've made multiple half-hearted attempts to get it under control in the last few months none of them have been real enough to yield any results. This week I'm getting serious. Making better choices, controlling the mindless eating, zipping the lip after 7:00 pm, making exercise a priority every day, and I've put a weight loss tracker on my blog (up in the right hand corner). Hopefully it will help keep me accountable. My goal, for now, is ten pounds and I'm currently down two.

Here are the facts. They're not pretty, but I'm coming clean so I'm not gonna sugar coat it. After moving to the Midwest ten years ago I joined weight watchers and lost 60 lbs. I put back on 35 those pounds, but lost 10 of them last year training for the triathlon. Currently, I'm right at the 35 re-regain.

During weight watchers I learned to look at weight loss in terms of cubes of butter. That way, even a 1/4 lb loss was a success because it was a whole cube of butter no longer hanging on my hips. Well, I just did the math and 35 lbs is ... shudder ... 140 cubes of butter! YUCK!!! No wonder my clothes no longer fit!!! That's just downright embarrassing!

I've come clean. I'm motivated. I'm down 8 cubes of butter. I'm tracking the loss publicly. Watch me shrink.

Chubby

I'm a victim of an over zealous love for food, and it's starting to show. My spare tire is growing and I'm not going to buy any bigger size clothing. Something's gotta give!

I know how to lose weight, done it before--sixty pounds even. Thirty of it found me again, pretty depressing, but I keep reminding myself that thirty of those pounds have been gone for four years now, better than nothing!

Here's the game plan: Keep a food journal (yuck!), exercise daily (I like this one, but that doesn't mean I'm doing it often enough), find substitutes foods that satisfy my cravings but are kinder to my fat stores than the ones I am currently consuming (this one takes time and energy and who has THAT?), assert portion control (chortle!!), and quit grazing in the kitchen (yeah, right!).

I want to lose weight, to fit better into my clothes, to stop catching glimpses of myself in mirrors and thinking, "Who is that fat lady?" But I don't want it enough right now. I can't seem to summon up enough self control to do the right things for longer than a day or two (okay, so maybe it's actually more like an hour or two). Whimper.

When things are not going well, we have two choices, we can get discouraged, or we can get determined. That's what my weight watcher leader taught me. But I've chosen a third option. I'm ignoring it all while I eat few more pieces of Halloween candy.

Can someone please fedex me some will power?

Take that tag off!!! Last Triathlon post

Hubders is a nut!!! He's the funniest guy I know, makes me laugh every day and prevents life from ever being dull.

One of his favorite ways to tease me is that he tries to wear new clothes with the tags still on them. More than once I have been sitting by him at church and suddenly realized that he has a tag hanging behind his tie. Jeans will still have stickers on them as he walks out the door. Shirts will have tags hanging off them. I have to chase him around the room in order to rip off the tags. He loves to act offended that I wouldn't let him wear the tags out in public. This little ritual has been going on in our home for quite some time now.

Saturday morning while waiting for the signal to start my division of the triathlon, I started hearing people call my name. I turned around and saw that my family had arrived, all of them in the green shirts from my sis. I looked at my sweetheart and saw that he still had the sticker down the front of his shirt! Surprise! Yup, that's MY man! I hollered at him to "Take that sticker off!!" He just smiled and shook his head.

I finished the swim, transitioned from swimming to biking and headed out. As I went past my family, I again told him to rip that tag off and he hollered that it was motivation for me and I would have to take it off myself once I crossed the finish line!

He couldn't believe how many women tried to take that tag off during the race. He had to protect it multiple times in order save it for me.

It's soo easy to take for granted how supportive that good man is of everything I do. Hubders thinks I can do anything and often I'm able to accomplish things for that very reason. I'm motivated to keep going and never give up simply because of his faith in me. He's the best husband on the planet, and he's mine!!! It's a beautiful thing!

My guy! Yup, he's the one with the tag on his shirt!


Just before my victory kiss. Notice the tag in my hand, I finally got to rip that thing off!

Triathlon Surprises

I love surprises, and got a big one this weekend. My sis, who lives here, called on Friday morning and we arranged to meet at a park later in the day. As I walked to the park, I could see her there with her kids and then I saw someone else who looked like one of my sisters that lives in Utah (I have five there). I looked again, sure enough, it was her! I ran and threw my arms around her asking what on earth she was doing here. It turns out she read my post on surprises, and decided it would be fun to surprise me by flying to the midwest to watch the triathlon! WOW!

I was dumbfounded! But as I think about it, I shouldn't have been. She's always doing really thoughtful and sweet things for people around her. Buying a plane ticket and arranging to be away from family and church obligations (she's Primary president in her ward), is huge!!! But that's just the way she is. We had sooo much fun together!!

My sis and me at the park!

To top it off, she brought green t-shirts (my favorite color) for everyone so that I could easily find my cheering section! Some of the shirts said, "It's a beautiful thing". I didn't quite understand why and when I asked, she said it's because I say it a lot. I had no idea that I said it, but over the course of the next few days, I noticed every time I said it, and she's right, I say it a lot! She also brought a black frame with "It's a beautiful thing" in vinyl between two pieces of glass. It looks fabulous and I'm trying to decide where to hang it in my house.

My next surprise was that my husband showed up a few hours later. You see, I originally thought the triathlon was not till the 29th, next saturday. Hubders had a three day conference for his work on the 20-22, so when I realized that the triathlon was on the 22nd, I was dissapointed that he wouldn't be able to be there. But it couldn't be helped, so we moved on. [Side note: When I posted that I was a ditz and had discovered that the race was earlier than originally thought, I stressed my sis out! She already had her plane ticket and had to change it!! She says she's gonna hold that ditzy moment over my head for some time!]

When hubders pulled in the driveway, I didn't know if he left the conference early or if the conference had been cut short. Turns out it was neither. Apparently an email was sent out in June changing the conference from a three-day to a two-day conference and I missed the email (I'm his secretary, and still a ditz!). So, according to Hudber, I surprised myself on that one. But, whatever, woot anyway, he was home!

So, not only did my husband get to be there, Sweetie is home for two weeks from college, my sis was there, my three still-at-home kids, and Cutie-Pie, my adorable daughter in-law who is a photographer came too! I can't tell you how great it was to see them as I came and went each time! Quite the cheering section!!! And sooo easy to spot!

Here's my cheering section. A sampling of the best people on the planet!


The wind beneath my wings (more on the tag on his shirt in the next post)


Cutie-Pie, Hubders, and Sweetie


My Girls!



Girlie-whirl!


Cutie-pie! Have you ever seen a more adorable daughter-in-law?!


Banana-girl!

Sweetie!! Home from college (for a minute, anyway!)

Bikey-boy and Cutie-pie!

Hubders and Girlie-whirl!

Triathlon and I lived to talk about it!

This is the first of three posts about the triathlon. This post is about the logistics of the actual race, the next two posts will be about the emotional stuff connected to the race. (this will be the most boring one, I promise!)

The morning started lousy. Having inadvertently set my alarm for 4:45 pm instead of am, my eyes popped open at 5:11, exactly 4 minutes before my running buddy "C" was to pick me up (we were meeting "M" there because she had a booth in a festival that she had to go to immediately after--crazy woman!). In a panic, I scurried around trying to get ready. Do you have any idea how many things you have take with you for a triathlon? Water bottles (lots of them), biking shoes, sunglasses, helmet, biking gloves (these are absolutely crucial!), two towels, Gu (which wasn't as nasty as I thought it would be), power blocks, your triathlon packet, swim goggles, the bike, a shirt to throw over the suit after the swim ... you get the idea, there's lot's of stuff. I threw it all into a bag along with clippies, hair elastics, brush, a yogurt smoothie and string cheese, (because you have to, have to, have to eat something and I obviously had no time to eat at home!). I threw on my suit, socks and shoes and ran to the door to see if "C" was there. Thankfully, she wasn't yet, so I actually had time to go put on deodorant and take care of other, um, personal needs (I know, TMI).

Food and hair were taken care of in the car and soon we were walking our bikes and all our stuff up to the club house, having parked blocks away. As you walk in, you have to give your race number and someone writes it on both of your arms with a sharpie. Then they write your age on your calf. "C" said, "Let's go to Cathy, a friend who was volunteering." So Cathy wrote on me. She learned it was my first triathlon and asked if I wanted smiley faces. "You, bet!" I told her. Later, I had a woman ask me, "Hey, how come you got smiley faces and I didn't?" I told her that when you're with "C", you get perks, which is true, she seems to know everyone and they all love her (who could help it!?)

My number and smiley face!

Yup! I'm 44!

We set up our transition area, got our computer chips (they looked like a Velcro watch kind of thing that you put on your ankle) and then went down to the water to wait for the race to begin. The temperature was AMAZING for August in the Midwest, so amazing that we were freezing until we got into the water. I stayed at the back of the pack as we headed off ("C" says there's less chance of being kicked and clawed in the back), and, since I'm an incredibly slow swimmer, that's exactly where I stayed. A quarter mile looks sooo much farther when you're in the water than when your standing on the beach! But, I just kept moving my arms and legs and eventually made it out of the water.

Waving to my family after the swim.

Next it was time for transition to biking. I toweled off, drank/ate (I don't know which to call it) the Gu, followed by LOTS of water, put on my shirt, socks, shoes, helmet, biking gloves, forgot my sunglasses, and headed on out. The bike was just as I practiced it, but maybe a smidge easier because of the adrenaline of race day. Nothing unusual happened and, twelve miles later, the transition to running went smoothly.

The end of biking

Running was the event that I had become stressed over. You see, my killer work-out class instructor had advised me to only give 60% on the swim, 80% on the bike, and 100% on the run. To me, this meant running the whole thing, no walking. But, two weeks ago, when we biked and ran the course, I was absolutely shocked by how hard it was to keep running after the bike ride, even though I'd combined biking and running into single workouts multiple times. I simply didn't have it in me to run the whole thing, so we walked up the hills and ran down them. I was grateful that I learned this before race day, knowing that it would have been defeating to learn I couldn't run the whole thing the day of the race.

I was fully prepared to run as much as I could and walk when I had to, but, since this was the run (100% remember?) I was determined to give it all I had and see how far I could make it before I had to walk. (Have I mentioned that I live in a VERY hilly place? There's no such thing as flat around here).

The run was easier than two weeks previous, maybe adrenaline again, who knows, but I was more than 3/4's the way and was sure I had one more tough hill to conquer and knew I wouldn't be able to run up the whole thing when I turned a corner and saw the finish line!!! The last tough hill was already behind me and I ran the whole thing!! What a happy moment!!!

I finished strong and didn't care what my time was (in fact, I never checked and since they haven't posted the times on-line yet, I still don't know how long it took me). I was just so thrilled to have crossed the finish line in one piece!!! No bleeding by the side of the road with a mangled bike, no drowning, no tripping and biffing it on the run! Just the toughest/longest work-out I'd ever done and it was behind me!!!

Me running up to the finish line.

Imagine my surprise when, "C" and "M" went to check on their standing, came back, and told me that "C" came in third (she didn't even have time to really train and she comes in third!), "M" came in fourth (she cut 30 minutes of last years' time!), and I came in fifth!!!! Admittedly, we were in the fat-girl division (they call it Athena's!--funny!), but still! I was third to the last one out of the water. We had the purple swim caps and there were only two after me, so I was SHOCKED that I came in fifth!!! "C" repeatedly told me that it's not about the swim, don't sweat the swim, and I guess this proves it. I was simply concentrating on getting from point A to point B, and had no idea that I had passed anyone in my division!! It was quite a happy moment.

"M" (4th place), "C" (3rd place), and me (5th place)

The triathlon was exhilarating, I felt like I had climbed Mt. Everest. I think I may be hooked!!! Last night my husband looked at me and said, "I'm going to have to buy you a bike, aren't I?" I just gave him a big smile and he started calculating the cost. "C", "M" and I are already looking for another triathlon. We're all trained up, it seems a shame not to do one more this season!

Calming Down

My friend and I biked and ran the triathlon course last saturday. The biking was easier than I thought and the run was much harder than I expected. But it was a good thing. I'm much calmer now about it all. I know I'll cross the finish line, I may have to walk part of it, but I'll get there!! What would we do without good friends?!!

Here's a pic of us after we finished. It was SOOOOO hot!!

AAUUUGH!!!

Stress levels have now skyrocketed!

I have just learned that I've been a total ditz (so what else is new!). I've had the wrong date in mind for the triathlon!! It's a whole week earlier than I thought! Yup, only 16 days left! I think I'm gonna be sick!

Runnin Scared

I try to ignore it, pretend it's not there. Sometimes I even almost succeed. But, most of the time, it's there in the back of my mind, popping out at odd times and interfering with my already taxed thought processes. It spurs me on to do things I wouldn't normally do, things that are painful and inconvenient. It's fear, nagging, tug in your gullet, deep down fear.

That triathlon which sounded like a cool idea last September when two dear friends started putting the pressure on me to join them in 2009, is looming large. It's now only twenty-three days away and counting down fast. It seemed like a good idea, but, it was then comfortably eleven months away. I didn't even feel nervous when I paid my 90 bucks to register in January, eight months is plenty of time. The fear started mounting in March and now it looms so large that I find my insides shaking with it at odd moments.

They call it a Sprint Triathlon. In layman's terms that means that it's the shortest, easiest series of the three parts of a triathlon (swimming, biking, and running) that you can string together and still call it a triathlon. So here's what it consists of: a 1/4 mile swim, then a 12 mile bike ride, followed by a 5K run.

None of the parts by themselves feel too daunting. I'm not that great of a swimmer, but I just happen to have enough buoyancy(okay, it's fat) on my body that sinking takes effort, so as long as I keep kicking and moving my arms, I'll get there eventually. I figure I can ignore the stinking lake water and make it through the swim fairly well.

Next, we bike which is more intimidating to me. Although I'm learning to love biking, I'm just not that experienced yet. My own bike is WAY too heavy, I'd never make it. A good friend, who happens to be just my height (I almost wrote "just my size", but I'm sure her pants are at least two sizes smaller than the ones that I can button myself into), and has been a triathlete, graciously offered to let me use her amazing bike.

Her bike is sleek and incredibly light weight, which makes the hills sooo much easier!! The drawbacks? Well, I hadn't even heard of clips (in the biking world, I mean), until talk about the triathlon began. For the uninitiated (read, me a year ago), clips are what serious bikers use in lieu of pedals so that they can not only push down when they pedal, but they can also pull up. You see, there are no pedals on this bike, just two little do-hickeys called clips. The other part of the clip is on the bottom of the special shoes that you wear. In order to ride this bike, you have to get one foot clipped in and then, in order to avoid falling over, you must be moving forward as you clip in your other foot. The clip, of course always flips upside-down, so you have to flip the clip and then clip your foot in, while riding, before you can successfully start down the road. When it's time to stop, you have to get at least one foot unclipped really fast or your gonna fall over with your feet firmly attached to the bike, praying all the time that no one is looking.

I'm getting better at getting myself in and out of the clips, but when the lady who taught my killer exercise class learned which triathlon I was doing, she said, "Oh, that's a really tough bike course for a first triathlon." Great, my stress levels are rising! I can do a 12 mile bike ride, in fact, a friend and I did one with our kids a couple of weeks ago. But between the the hills and a friend mentioning that rideing your breaks down the really steep hills could cause your tire to pop off, and hearing that what this course takes is an experienced biker, the fear mounts.

Last of all we run. 5K is very doable at this point in my life. However, to run it AFTER swimming a quarter mile and then biking for twelve? I just plain don't have it in me yet! I know I don't! (can you hear the panic?) So, every day, I'm running or biking or swimming or doing a combination of them to try and get ready for the big day. Every mile I run, every completed bike ride and every half-hour in the pool helps keep the fear a bit more at bay. But I can't eliminate the fear, it's real and getting bigger every day. It didn't help when a man in my ward (church congregation), told me that when his wife did a triathlon a few years ago, woman after woman ran into one of the many Johny-on-the-spots before the race started to toss her cookies!

I don't want to place or outshine anyone in the triathlon. My one and only goal is not to die! Okay, I admit, I do have one other small goal. I don't want to do anything really really embarrassing. I want to be able to converse about the race afterwards without hanging my head in shame. Is that too much to ask? I certainly hope not! In the mean time, if you need me, I'll be swimming and biking and running scared.

Pain and Results (I hope!)

I just started an exercise class. There were only five of us in the class and one personal trainer. Now, I love tough work outs. I don't see any point in doing it unless you're gonna go for it and push yourself. Having said that, I was totally unprepared for the beating. I've been working out for some time now and although I still have more fat on this body than is recommended, I have some good muscle tone under that fat, thank you very much, and some pretty good stamina going on. But within ten minutes into this hour long class, my entire body was jello with fifty minutes to go.

Here's just the first part of class, so that you have an idea of the experience. First, for our warm-up, we ran up and down the flight of stairs five times. Keep in mind that these are stairs in a commercial building and so they are longer than the flight of stairs in our homes. We were breathing really hard by the end, but it was doable.

Next, she set us up with five different stations and we were to do each exercise for one minute. I could see that most of them weren't going to be that bad. Push-ups for a whole minute would be tough, triceps behind the head with a 10 lbs weight--I'd really be feeling it, but knew I could make it. The bicep one I knew would be the easiest. The tossing the ball over your head against the wall as fast as you can, didn't look too hard, and running the stairs for the other station would leave me winded, but I knew I could do it. Not a piece of cake, but remember, I like tough work outs.

I was at the bicep station to begin with. It wasn't that tough, but my eyes got big as I watched our trainer go over to my friend at the push-up station, place one hand on each shoulder blade and push down. You gotta be kidding me?! Push ups like that? Thirty seconds into it, she moved over to the tricep station, took hold of the bottom of the weight and pulled down. The friend at this station started grunting heavily with each rep. Yep, by now I was nervous!

My second station was triceps. I've done tricep with a twenty lb weight before, but I have NEVER worked those muscles like I did with her pulling down on the weight! At the end of the minute my arms were feeling things they had never before felt.

I moved over to the station with the ball. It looked like a regular basketball. Imagine my chagrin when I picked it up and realized that it weighed ten lbs!! My arms were complete jello from the last station, so the ten lbs felt like thirty, and the minute like at least five!

I then ran stairs and now my whole body is completely exhausted, and it's time for push-ups! Every time she pushed down on my shoulder blades, my arm muscles collapsed! I just didn't have it in me.

She then let us take a quick sip of water, towel off the sweat that was dripping like rain and said, "One more time." We did the circuit again.

That was just the first part of the class. She didn't let up for the whole hour. And I do mean hour --she worked us the entire time, to the last minute and told us that we could cool down and stretch on our own time!!!

When the class finally ended I was very sad to realize that those who designed the building didn't have the forsight to put an elevator in. Didn't they realize that there would be people who were in the state where they'd rather just sleep there for the night than to go down those stairs to get to their cars?

It's only because my dad taught me stay on two ibuprofin to prevent stiffness that I can actually make it all the way down to the toilet seat today. I have a dress for the upcoming wedding that I can zip up, but can't wear until I lose a few lbs. If anything can get me there, this is it. That is, if I can get up enough guts to go back on Thursday!

Confession is good for the soul, and hopefully, the waistline

I don't want to admit this, but I really think it's best that I do. I've been a pig lately. Really. I had gone back to doing weight watcher points, I was getting a handle on it, and enjoying my food more than ever. I always enjoy my food more when I limit it and eat mindfully--that's why I was able to lose the 60 lbs before. I REFUSE to go hungry, eat food that's yucky or completely give up the foods that I love in order to lose weight. And I learned that I could do it. It was a shock to me-never having had any will power in the past. But beside enjoying my food more than ever, there was such a sense of well-being that came that I just stuck with it--not perfectly, of course, but really stuck with it til I'd lost the weight. But after getting to goal, the eye of the tiger was gone and I haven't been able to get it back. So, not being one to give up, and being the eternal optimist that I am--I continue to try over and over again. Anyway, I was doing great (for a whole three days) and then, I don't know what happened, but all willpower went out the window. It has officially left the building and suddenly I'm this mindless eating machine! I HATE that!! I feel bloated and weak and pitiful, but I just keep doing it this week! WHIMPER!!

This whole thing is, to say the least, mortifying to admit, but maybe, if I can admit it here, just maybe I'll do something about it. See, told you I was an optimist.

In case you're wondering...

When you're getting back into running, the second day is harder than the first. Nuff said.

Tired but determined

I'm tired. REALLY tired. Want to crawl back in bed and forget the whole day tired. Why? It's been more than four months, but this morning I finally did it. I got up early, laced up my new running shoes and headed out the door. I didn't know if I could do the whole two miles but if I'm going to do that half triathlon in September (and I AM going to do it--I'm cheap and the 90 bucks I spent to register will NOT be spent in vain!), I've got to start where I am, a pretty pitiful place, and push on from there. Yesterday I did a six mile bike ride, also the longest since last fall. It was tough, but I refused to walk up the hills--just kept downshifting. Sidenote: I've REALLY got to find me a road bike. My bike is beautiful and it's gotten me into biking--something I hadn't done since grade school, but it's heavy and I can no longer get it to shift into first gear (granny gear as my biking buddy calls it). I'm sure it just needs some adjustments, but I have no idea how to do it and since I still haven't bought a bike rack, I have no way to get it to the bike shop-short of biking there and I haven't yet got the guts to walk into the bike shop, out of breath, sweaty, chubby me, and ask them to fix the thing.

Anyway, back to this morning. I walked out my door and found a smidge of rain. Not much, just sort of spitting really. I almost turned around and went back inside, but I decided to just go a little way and see what happened. I could always turn back if the rain picked up. Soon I was to the corner where I usually start jogging (can I use the word usually when I haven't done this since fall?). I kicked it in gear and soon, very soon, I felt that whimper-I-can't-do-this-really-I'm done-can't-go-any-farther feeling that always comes a few minutes into a run. From past experience I know that if I keep going, push through it, it gets easier, but oh, my goodness, I wanted to stop. So I gritted my teeth and pumped my arms more as my running buddy has taught me. No buddy this morning, so I had to do something to keep my mind occupied and keep it off of all the physical difficulties involved. I started reciting (in my head, I was gasping too hard for anything audible) various memorized church things (songs, articles of faith, etc) The mental exercises made the hills not quite as noticeable, still tough, but doable when my mind was struggling to figure out what comes next. Eventually, after reciting everything twice, I realized that I was actually getting close to the two mile mark! When I stopped I felt like I was going to collapse right there, in front of the subdivision pool, with all the commuters heading out for the morning watching, but I just kept putting one jello leg in front of the other until I got to my front door.

So, now I'm tired, really tired. But there's something very emotionally satisfying about taking this out of shape, pitiful, 25 lbs heavier than when I reached my weight watcher goal, 44 year old body and proving to myself that I still have some determination and will-power. Tomorrow I'll be stiff and running won't become fun for a few more weeks. But I'm gonna get there. Now if only I could find a way to be determined during the afternoon munchies.