Run for your life...wow, how many times has that pun been used on a weight-loss blog?

I am doing the Couch to 5K program now. I ran the second of my Week 1 runs today and I feel pretty great. My hip is a little loose, a leftover from some car accidents I have been in—including the time I was hit by a giant truck right on my left hip, the one giving me trouble. I vacillate between thinking that it is some terrible rare problem, a stress fracture that I am making worse and worse, or just something I need to pamper with aftercare. Regardless, I can interval run for thirty minutes and I can walk for four hours or more, I can ride for hours...but my hip always has something to say about it. In turn, my knees seem to think that means they have an opinion. I bribe them with ibuprofen on the worst days and ice and wraps on the others.

One of the things I have learned from all of this is why it really pays off to join a gym and have a trainer. It is rid— excuse me, RIDICULOUSLY expensive. Upwards of 50 dollars a session for a reasonably priced trainer...but you go, you meet with them, you tell them, My hip is doing such and such, and they can tell you the best way to treat it. When to keep pushing, how to rehab, whether or not to worry...all the stuff that is so up in the air for me right now. Is a trainer the same as a full body MRI? No, but their best guess is still probably, because of experience, better than mine. And despite that fifty, a damn-sight cheaper than an MRI. Hooray, no health insurance. I mean, it sucks.

The holidays are upon me and I have plans to go out to Boston to visit a friend I haven't seen in about a year, maybe longer. He missed out on watching me gain weight (about thirty or so over a year) and of course, this fifty-pounds lighter version is probably going to be new to him too. There is a certain amount of nervousness that goes along with that. Not because I think he will treat me differently but because I feel so different and my life is so different. Running? Yeah, that's new. The food is a bit scary too. Not the food, but the fact that our relationship has always had a long dinner table running through it. On that table was ice cream, cakes, Mexican food, more ice cream, fried eggs, burgers, bacon...there was this breakfast called The Pile at a diner in Salt Lake city that began with about two potatoes, country-style, included onions, peppers, mushrooms—all fried, two fried eggs (or three if you chose), bacon, a cup of coffee extra sweet, extra cream, and a half stack of pancakes.

I ate that or something just as bad for me, every Sunday for about two years.

Breakfast for me these days is uh, oatmeal with prunes...that was yesterday. Today was protein smoothie and some bran flakes. And you couldn't pay me to go back to The Pile. Damn.

I know that this visit will be super-fun and I am not worried about food being an obstacle to that but there is still the issue of food to be dealt with, as there always is.

Good news, I am still awesome.
That is all, no bad news.

As of Thanksgiving, yes I weighed myself on Thanksgiving, I am down another nine pounds which, for those of us paying attention, means I am down fifty pounds in total. From 276 to 226 in five months. I feel pretty good about it.

I have been watching weight loss reality TV shows, mostly because it motivates me to do it the right way, and because I exercise while watching them. They make me glad that I am doing this slowly because the chances of gaining it all back in a year are so much lower this way. As it is I keep being weirded right out by pictures of me. It doesn't look like me sometimes and I am not even halfway through it yet. If I had lost this much weight, just a little over a third of my intended goal, in five weeks instead of five months, I imagine the psychological impact would be even more severe. After an entire lifetime of thinking of myself as a great big, fat guy...yeah, it is going to be years before I think of myself as someone who is only overweight (a milestone that I will actually hit at 204 pounds, so, right around the corner). And yet again years beyond that to think of myself as "normal."
The last time I was under two hundred, I was probably in middle school. I have been overweight or obese my entire memorable life. How in the world am I supposed to acclimate to not being something I have always been? How do you get used to "normal" when normal for you is something so much different?

These days I am approaching the upper end of American average size, about a 14 in ladies' sizes. Around a Large. And though a series of Xes no longer precedes my size, I still feel like someone who would be more suited to a 3X than an L. I like to think that I am not at all defined by my clothing size but when I pulled a sweater dress off the rack and I held it out, looking at the label "Large"...I thought, there's no way I am just a large, this looks way too small. Trying it on, it fit, I then thought, I'm a Large? That's nuts! I'm a large! The thought pattern sort of upset and amused me at the same time. I am not my clothing size. I know this, but when a great deal of my time involves working out, researching diet and weight-loss science...of course my focus is a little skewed at the moment. I often gauge time passed in cardio blocks. The two or three hours on my bike are broken up into interval and moderate phases. My life is a strange place right now. I am focused. I have a goal. I am Losing Weight, practically a full-time occupation. So it makes sense that measures of my success toward that goal will feel rather personally defining but that doesn't mean I have to like it. I am used to feeling like so much more than an L. Or whatever.

In two more months, or I hope by New Year, I will be at my halfway mark. I have about one hundred thirty pounds to lose overall to get to my personal ideal weight. But the name of this blog is Century Ride, so, 100 (106 exactly to no longer be classed as "overweight" according to the BMI calculators). And as of Thanksgiving I am halfway there. I had a little celebration on the scale at my friend's house where I had snuck a little weigh-in, still not having a scale of my own.

It is something to celebrate.

Even greater a milestone to celebrate?
My arms are strong enough and I am lighter enough that I can bike out of the saddle for a minute at a time at full resistance. Hills, I'mma eff you up come Spring.

Also in the great news category? I interval-ran 4.2 miles on Thanksgiving. It felt great. I run now. I am a runner.

Life is good.

Whoever invented walking lunges needs to be taken outside behind the woodshed and shot.

Guess who <3s wearing pearls during a good workout?

That'd be me.

I never realize I am wearing them until I have to take them off for the shower.
Such a lady.


PostScript: That sweat is from 12 little minutes of bodyrocking.
I feel wiped and pumped at the same time.
Fitness rules.

Update for the masses, for posterity, for me

October is over already? WTHeck?

I weighed in a little while ago and, having just eaten and it was not first thing in the morning, I was 235 which is awesome considering I started over 270. No fads, no crunches, no gimmicks...okay, a few crunches, and I'm down 41 pounds since July. About ten pounds a month, not too bad, eh?
And that was about two weeks ago so who knows now?..I know that my pants are falling off again. I have zero pants that fit. And zero workout gear.

That's become sort of a big self-perception hurdle. Losing weight but not being able to afford new clothes. Because you feel kick-ass right after a workout but then you have to put on the same old clothes that don't fit and you feel like a hobo.
And knowing that even if I do scrape the forty bucks together for a new pair of pants, they're not gonna fit in a month or so anyway. Disposable pants. Grr. And workout gear? Isn't the point, if I am doing it right, to lose weight? So I size myself right out of the eighty dollar moisture wicking jersey and the hundred dollar sports bra and the sixty-five dollar bike shorts. So frustrating.
But you can't complain about this phenomenon to most because what they hear is still just, "Woe is me, I'm losing weight," and they want to smack you.

I am on a rest-ish day and I am starting a recovery week today. My neck has been not so happy with me lately and I am planning on starting an outdoor walk/jogging routine soon; I want to give myself a clean bill of health before getting into that. Calories appropriately reduced though I think I am going to have to break from my desk and eat a real lunch soon—the banana I had on the way back from the grocery store just isn't cutting it. I still have that tendency to just not eat if I don't have to. If there's no one around to notice, if I am not starving from a hard workout, any other reason that seems rational at the time but totally isn't. I suppose it's just one of those things. Once an eating disorder, always an eating disorder. I just have to be aware of it and do what I can to rise above.

So, tomato soup and spinach, I think. Because I am all out of asparagus.

Pre-Sunday update

I am on a workout high. Drinking recovery shake, about to have a light dinner, in a good mood.

Not much else to say other than, I rule. My triceps are getting pretty kickass and I am about to level up to a heavier set of hand weights. I can do about a hundred pushups at a time—half of 'em divebombers—without having to take breather to pass out or throw up...and I did this latest workout while on a break from getting Real Live Grownup Work done.

So, yeah, I rule.

Ah, Autumn. It is always my best time of year.

When you are losing weight there are a lot of ways to measure success, to track it. And there are a lot of things to look forward to.

I don't usually wear expensive clothing; I tend to be hard on my things and spending 300 dollars on a blouse seems ridiculous if I am just going to wear it twice, have it dry cleaned a year later only to find that they couldn't get out the blood stain I don't remember getting on it.
So I splurge in other ways.
I like corsets and lingerie and garter belts and hosiery. For those of us over a size ten, there are only about three places that are of any use for this: I favor Hips and Curves.

I was over there browsing, because Halloween is coming up and because I found the other day that I have lost too many inches to wear any of my corsets anymore...it was a sad and awesome moment at the same time.

I want this corset so bad I can taste it. I know exactly how I would wear it. I can tell I would look awesome in it. I know I would feel awesome in it, which is the real reason to wear sexy underclothes. And then I took my measurements to figure out which size I would order if I had 160 bucks to blow on lingerie and I realized that I would order a 32.

Now, it is beyond foolish to order a pricy something like this when you are losing weight because it is likely, and it is the hope, that you will lose more weight and it won't fit anymore. But it is not the most expensive corset I have seen and you can bet I have my eye on a corsetière who will be getting a call the second my final weight has been maintained for a couple months. Knowing that my custom fit is going to cost about five hundred bucks makes one that is under 200...well, it puts things in perspective. Maybe my Christmas list is something other than just exercise equipment afterall. Lingerie and exercise equipment. And new pants. I think it's pretty clear what I have been up to.

That's a finished size of 32. So after lacing, my waist would measure a 32. Let's take bets on whether or not that's going to be a 30 in about two or three weeks.

If that isn't reason enough to go workout in triumph, I don't know what is.

Long time

So, many things in my personal life have been changing, which is obviously the best excuse for such infrequent posting to hold myself accountable—which could have had disastrous results for my regime, but did not. I am dating again, which takes a lot of time...and money, and unplanned calories, yikes. Luckily I found a guy who doesn't mind packing a lunch and eating outside in this great Autumn weather. So there's that. I also have been battling artists' block and several looming deadlines, not the greatest of combinations. Between that and a few too many trips out to the city I am broke, busy, and happy.

And thanks to my continuing efforts I am also starting to see some new definition. I was jogging the other day and I noticed a shadow on my skin from the bone moving over my shoulder. It was surprising and cool, as usual with these discoveries.
The last time I was in Philly I was hoping to be under 250 and I weighed in (after eating) at 243 and some change. Under 250? Closer to 240! So I was pleased. I celebrated by doing a very enthusiastic burpee. That was around two weeks ago and I am confident that I have lost more since then. Even with date-night eating out.

I have been doing a lot of those Bodyrock inspired body weight exercises and I can really feel the difference in my balance and strength. There's something about moving your own weight around that gives you a feel for your physicality. I don't think I could ever do the weight machines again. I remember the last time I was in a gym that was part of the orientation and I did not like it at all. But I enjoy the feeling of most of these moves, especially triceps dips. I found that my bathroom sink is the perfect height with my legs elevated on the tub. I get all the benefit without having to pay 99.99 for a dip station, though that and a sandbag are still on my Christmas list.

Wow, what a difference twenty years makes to your Christmas list, huh?

Still feeling great, still losing, still rad.

Rockin' it.

Another Bodyrock workout down. My arms are floppy, like noodles and I have no brain, which means I did it right. Max effort, really intense and I feel the beginning edge of some pretty good energy coming back.

That might be my favorite part of working out: that feeling like I can climb up the outside of the building, like I could deadlift my entire bed if I really tried. It makes you feel invincible and I do love that feeling.

I am getting used to burpees. I might actually like them. You haven't lived until you've done a monkey pushup though, those are the funnest.

Yesterday

I did a workout inspired by this site: BODYROCK.tv
Burpees, balance ball rollouts with pushup, ball passes and triceps press-ups.

DAMN.

Mostly I feel it in my chest which is unfortunate since I am carving today and you use your whole upper body doing that. My abs are a bit sore but after a few rollouts on my ball and a shoulder stand I felt a bit better.

Yoga, today you are my superhero. Also, always.

Day of Rest: Yep, still at it

So despite my lack of posts over the past few days, I am still walking the fitness highway. Walking, not running. Truth is, I needed a break from calorie counting and food weighing and I wanted to see if I could keep up the good habits without such stringent methods, since I don't intend to weigh everything I eat for the rest of my life. So far I feel like I am not going crazy. All the weighing has given me a good understanding of how much a handful is or how much an ounce of something is. I'm still working out six days a week and moving every day, despite some emotional setbacks having to do with a temper tantrum over not being able to go see a movie...and when written like that, I do know exactly how childish it sounds. Meh, we all have our rough days. I also had to take it easy since, with all the rains and general bad weather lately, my ol' timey trick knee has been sort of sore at me. I'd rather take it easy for a few days than push it and risk a real injury.

Last time I checked I was down to 251.something, which is very close to my first big (weight) goal: below 250 before the end of summer. Looks like I am going to make it. Which means I will need a new goal. My reward is going to have to be my new bike. A black Pake with Celeste rims—gorgeous. I have been cleaning it up a bit and ogling a new crank set. It needs new brake cables, and wraps of course, and I might slap a new chain on there just for good measure.

I have been losing steadily off my hip measurement but my waist seems to be stalled out. I think some changes in my diet are responsible. You know how it is when you add protein powder...if you don't: my fervent hope for you that you don't ever find out. Though protein powder is a blessing, getting my belly used to it has really been a challenge. But I can't even begin to describe how much better I feel post workout since adding it to my recovery time. Yoga, water and a little protein shake. Perfection. So though I am still getting used to some of the side effects, and figuring out the best times and ways to take the stuff, I am not going to stop using it any time soon.

Official Day of Rest Update:
In the red; Average loss: .3"
Weight: 251.2. Still no scale of my very own. My mother has been threatening to send me hers.

5.2 inches of my hips. Neato.

Sculpt

After only a few go'rounds with a new strength routine I can do body-weight triceps presses. There's nothing quite like that feeling of being able to do something that once felt impossible.

My body is changing by the day it seems, certainly I can feel changes. The other night I went to put my hair up and I noticed the muscles of my forearm moving under the skin and thought, Well that's new. And that sort of thing happens every day. It's like unwrapping a new toy every time I wake up. I hope people who don't have to lose weight still get to feel like this.

I still have no idea of my weight but I am about to go out of town again and will probably get a chance to weigh myself then. It's tough to escape completely the tyranny of those numbers, mentally but I am trying to remember how INCREDIBLE I feel after a great workout and keep telling myself that that is what matters.

In the meantime, I have to go shower, I just kicked my own ass. Triceps presses, mermaids, pushups, standing obliques...my whole body is still warm and I finished about an hour ago. Seriously. I can think of only a few things that feel better than this.

I feel AWESOME!

Great ride.

Improved cadence (riding on my trainer), a new understanding of RPM and a great playlist are responsible. I held about 75RPM for about an hour and a half in varying gears. I got off and I thought, GODDAMN! I feel amazing. It felt like it took no time at all and I am full of all kinds of energy now. I was briefly tempted to try to climb up a wall just to see if I could but it turns out the endorphin high did not give me superpowers (boo) and passed quickly enough—still leaving me feeling incredible.

I heart my bike.
Actually, I love it.

Next week I get another one.
Yeah, it's like that. I will love them both equally, I swear.

(Much needed) Day of Rest

I was right; I am still in the red by little more than a hair. I was thrown back by some gains that I can't explain other than to say that apparently not exercising for a few days a week makes me gain weight...in the bust...which seems unlikely. Many people would say it is from weight-training, or other, more specifically girly reasons but I am skeptical (it is not the right time for that to figure in). I think travel eating played a part, but, I am not too terribly upset about it. I am rather distracted by some other physical stuff that is confusing the living hell out of me at the moment. Maybe once I figure out why my body seems to be changing all the rules, I guess turn about is fair-play—I've been doing the same thing for the past few months—maybe then I will have the energy to be upset about measurements...but I doubt it. Especially because even with some odd gains, my waist still went down. I guess this is a weight-loss ideal. I won't poke at it; I will just be grateful.

I had the most amazing lentil salad last night. It had warm blueberries in it, and feta. So good!

I started doing push-ups yesterday, which is most of why I really need this day of rest. The other part of that relief is Leandro Carvalho and his cheerful death march to Brazil Butt-hood. It's so tough to hate that man while you are pliéing, heels lifted, sweating and feeling like you can't do even one more minute...then he says, "Come on, Don' settle for less! Don' save anything!" and he gets into the squat and says, smiling earnestly, "I'm here with you! Come on!"
Seriously, so hard to swear at him, the digital him even.
So now I am glad to just be sitting on my butt, "the bum bum!" Leandro calls it, getting my desk jockey work done. I will take a leisurely walk later to gawk at the tourists in town for Musikfest and that will be my moving around for the day.

Official Day of Rest update: In the red; Average loss: .1 inches.
I still do not have my own scale. Take that, quantification!
And, as it has been four weeks complete since getting on my current fitness and eating schedule...
One month update:
Pounds lost: 12
Overall average loss of 2.8 inches
4.2 inches lost from my waist, which is pretty nifty

In an attempt to inject variety into my routine I have inadvertently kicked my own ass. I guess Leandro Carvalho and some Turbo Jam have kicked my ass but I feel I have to take some responsibility since I am the one who hit play and danced around like a madman.

I recently had a chance to weigh myself and I have to admit, I was disappointed. I am trying not to let it bother me too much since I am infinitely happier, health-wise, than before I started this, uh, program (it's not a diet, it's not an organized system with an infomercial...what do I call it? "Journey," I guess). I have been changing my eating habits, working out and generally trying to improve my physical life for about two months now and according to the scale at a friend's house I have lost about eleven pounds.
Now eleven pounds is better than no pounds but still.
And I know that my clothes fit like I have lost more than that so I wonder if my original estimate of my weight was a gross underestimate, which is not a cheerful thought either.
Anyhow, I am trying to not let it bother me.

Also in that category is the fried food I ate when I was in Philadelphia this last weekend. I have to say, eating almost exclusively greens and whole grains and yogurt for over a month does not prepare you for the deep-fried, insulin-blasting carbo-party that is travel food. (Vegan) pizza and french fries, chips and guacamole, tempura. Yow. It was tasty but I am glad to be back in my own kitchen. Tomorrow I get back on my bike if my butt will let me get near that saddle. I know somewhere around here I have the big couch-cushion that originally came with the bike that I rode before I graduated to a real one, the kind that tries to get fresh if you sit down too fast? Yeah, I am not looking forward to the reacquiantance period tomorrow however, it's been over a week since I have been on my bike; I miss it.

Anyhow, that's me.

To update:
Current measurements: still in the red by a hair, last time I checked, though I will officially update my measurements on Day of Rest coming up in a few.
Current weight: 256.2 according to a friend's scale in Philadelphia which is a completely different scale than the one I last weighed myself with many months ago.

Learning some hot moves...slowly

Does everybody understand how difficult it is to learn the running man at my age? I feel like I have three feet and they're all completely disconnected from my brain.

This is all because of the "Move Your Body" routine that Beyoncé put out to encourage involvement in the Let's Move campaign this spring. A lot of my exercise lately has been dance and I figured this would be a great way to get some choreography in that would be easy to get down, sort of a default warm-up before I got into the rough stuff. I just didn't realize that the running man (of all the stupid things) would be my Achilles heel.

It's okay. I just substitute a little bouncy shuffle in the meantime (which, oddly, I had no problem figuring out) but I am determined to get this step. I mean, I learned how to ride a bike when I was in my twenties and if I can learn to salsa...AUGH! WHAT THE EFF. KIDS ARE DOING THIS!

Sometimes I think about what I look like while learning choreography and I laugh...

[pfft] [shrug] as long as it keeps my heart rate up.

Take off your shoes and dance

To be honest, I think videos like this are the only thing keeping my mood up lately. Between generalized sadness (breakup stuff, bleh) and the ridiculous heat, I have been really down but it's hard to feel like anything other than dancing when LMFAO is Party Rockin'. I could do without Lauren Bennett; her awkward heel-steppin' makes me feel sorry for her, but overall, this video equals Rad.

Sunday, sundae, Sunday

There's a SpongeBob episode, Something Smells, where he wakes up to the foghorn, ties his sheet around his "neck" and rides the next foghorn bubble blast like Superman, hitting the Sunday square on the big calendar on the wall saying, "Wow! It's Sunday ... guess what's for breakfast?"
(Breakfast is a sundae, get it?)

Though last week I woke up with a similar attitude, today I did not. I seem to be in a bad mood. To be blunt, I hate everything. I would burn down the world if I could. This is not like me. I wouldn't say I am exactly a ball of joy lately but I generally do better than this. Why the bad mood? Breakup stuff. My teeth hurt (badly impacted wisdom tooth and no dental insurance). My mind is a treacherous bitch somedays and those days I just wake up full of sadness and latent, almost ghostlike, impotent rage. It's not typical but it happens.

In an attempt to counteract it I did not take my Day of Rest and instead had a dance party to see if raising endorphins would lower my stress and take my mind off of all the little terrible things that I can't seem to stop dwelling on. I don't like being controlled by little terrible things, especially things that have already been taken from me and things I cannot control. So I danced them out of my mind. Of particular help was LMFAO's "Party Rock" and Pitbull's oh-so-indelicate "Move Shake Drop" remix; it's hard to think about anything dancing to that one. Now, before I have to try to sleep, I figure I will take the respite from my foul mood to post an update.

I am still not doing so well with food. I mean, I keep coming in under my calorie goals. I am wondering if this is cause and effect with the bad mood. Painful teeth notwithstanding, I have felt worse and not been so down about it. And though I know that getting over the breakup has its highs and lows, if all I have to do to manage this better is eat more and more reliably I am willing to try. It's been tough this week though. It's too hot to want to eat (which may have quite a lot to do with my anger at least—I cannot stand heat. Summer is a level of Hell). And my sleep is suffering as well.

Still, even with reduced exercise, because of the heat and my lack of enthusiasm, I am in the red this week with an overall average loss of a little over another inch. I find I am losing more and faster from my waist measurement (-2.5" just this week) than anywhere else. Now that I said that I have to go knock on a whole bunch of wood. I'd rather lose a lot quickly from waist and hips than from...well, other places.

So that's the news. Summer is kicking my ass. I still did my long ride this week and I feel pretty well-accomplished about that. If the heat doesn't break soon I might go into hibernation. I also might cut all my hair off. If you've never tried sleeping peacefully in 90-degree heat (with over 80% humidity) with three feet of hair curling all over like a fur blanket...well, I'll just say it's a damn miracle every year that I don't just shave my head in my sleep.

On a positive note, just six more weeks of this. September, you are my superhero.

Just one of the ways I suck at eating

I have a strange relationship with food. I guess since I need to lose so much weight that that is fairly obvious. I don't crave foods often; I don't really have a problem staying away from food. My issue these days, and has been for a few years, is making myself eat. I resent food for needing to be eaten.

I can't just not eat. I can't just eat a lot all at once to avoid being hungry for a while. If I skip meals, it makes me sick. If I ignore my hunger it makes me sick...food is a really whiny, high maintenance baby (or rather, I suppose my digestive system is), and unlike a baby, I am free to resent food for being a jerk.

I just resent having to eat all the damn time. I resent food for being the focus of at least 75% of social interactions. Since becoming vegan, I resent food for being the thing that people pick on me for. Not that I can't handle it—I can—but that doesn't mean it's fun to hear the same few comments over and over,
"Oh I could never be vegan I just love cheese!"
—"Oh, that's fine; I am not here recruiting."
"How do you get your protein?"
—"I eat really healthy food all day long, like a rabbit."
and of course, "I thought vegans were all super skinny."
—"Eat a dick."

But despite all that, the main reason I resent food is that I will always have to deal with it. If I were addicted to eating it would be worse, I suppose. I mean, it's not like people who have a food addiction have the choice of just never eating again. In my case, it's just the fact that I have to think about it all the time. I wake up and I eat oatmeal that I put in the fridge the night before, so my food day begins eight hours before I even get up. I workout, have a snack (and if I am riding, I snack during the ride), make lunch, work, snack. I get dinner started, do yoga, eat dinner, work, snack, get breakfast ready for the morning and gratefully brush my teeth, knowing that once I do that I don't have to eat anymore.

I suppose this is one of those things about me that does not make sense. I like food, I just hate that I need it. I like the tastes of things (that's probably how I put on so much weight in the first place, that and social eating) but however tasty, I don't want to have to eat them. And I really enjoy cooking but I never really have as much fun consuming the meal as I do making it; even preparing and planning a recipe is more fun for me than eating.

I just spent most of the evening making dinner, which was fun. It tastes fine, I mean, it's yum. But do I want to eat? No, not at all. Especially when I eat alone, my food enthusiasm fizzles out the second I finish plating.
I ate. I can make myself eat when I know I have to but, ugh. What a chore. It's like doing the laundry. Except with laundry I have the option of just doing all of it at once and then just never wearing clothes again.

My calorie goal for the day, most days, is supposed to be close to two thousand. Today I have barely cleared a thousand and it's already eleven o'clock at night. Call me crazy but I don't see myself eating another grand before bedtime.
I will try again tomorrow?
I guess that's all any of us can do.

I have always enjoyed taking the stairs

Do not want

This is the first time in a Long time that I have absolutely not wanted to work out. I kept saying, "but I have soo much work to do." Which is ultimately what made me realize that I was dragging my feet about it. I love to put off work. I actually get a sick thrill out of leaving everything 'til the last minute.

The only thing that made me just get up and raise my heart rate was the Walk DVD. My mother sent it to me a while ago when she heard that I needed something to fill my hours, and she knows how much I dislike being in direct sunlight. I was skeptical at first, I admit, but having it as an option really makes it easy to talk myself into getting in an hour of exercise. I would absolutely not have done it if it meant going outside (it's late) and I am giving my legs an extra day off from strength training (I have a killer kettlebell day planned). Anyway, my advice to you is, even if you think that you will never use them, find some DVDs or online follow-along fitness routines to sub in on days you need to shake it up, some incentive or some easy way to talk yourself into working even when you are determined not to. You won't regret it.

Progress Report? Update? Eventually I will think of something clever to call this.

Stating for the record: I have no idea what I am doing in terms of goals, long-term, short or whatever. I don't have a weekly goal for centimeters lost. I don't yet have a scale so I can't judge by the whole 1 to 2 pounds a week rule. I am going to put a plan and a goal schedule together and I am going to write it all out and template things and I might get to do some graphs (hooray, graphs!), but for now, negative numbers is the goal right?
I can report that I am in the red this week. I took my measurements last week (I was looking at a page of anime costumes, trying to figure out how many sizes I would have to lose to wear clothes manufactured for young Japanese girls). Anyway, from last week to this I am down an average of 3.1cm, which is a little over an inch. I don't know if that's "right" or whatever but I know it is smaller than before and my pants corroborate so, good. Except for the occasional fear that I am going to be out of wearable pants in a few weeks, this is good.

This week I worked on upping my calories on long ride days so that I am not wiped out by night time. Also I wanted to avoid the possibility of going nuts and eating everything in the house at dinner on those nights. It seemed good practice to just plan for extra calories. I also added some strength training to my schedule and it kicked my ass. In a good way but I am really shocked by which parts of me are sore. I didn't realize my triceps were so weak. Not for long.
I hit my training goals. I hit my food goals. I hit my writing goals. I rule.

I realized the other night that tomorrow begins Week 7 of my journey. The first two weeks were sort of warm-up weeks, mostly relearning how to eat, but even so, WEEK 7. I can all kinds of feel my collar bones again. In fact, when I swipe my sweaty chin against my shoulder when I'm riding I often hit bone. It sounds like this: "Ow! Huh, cool."

Quick, everyone, Do Nothing!

I live across the street from a church, down the street from a church and up the street and around the corner from yet another church. I like to think they don't compete for congregates but it is also fun to think of them having little sit-downs about how to increase worship. A bikini carwash, I would think, is out.

Though it is the weather for it today. It's so hot I might have to put on clothes...that probably made more sense in my head than it does to you.

Anyway, in keeping up with the Churches I have set Sundays as my Day of Rest. The first two weeks it was a coincidence but now it's official. My body really needs a weekly break from training and sweating and my mind can use a break for that matter as well. Changing is hard work. Especially this real type of change where you have to be honest with yourself and be your own personal trainer, motivator. Sometimes all you really feel like doing is laying in bed reading all day. Which is probably what I will be doing today. I might be reading Shape, learning how to get glamorous Glutes, or whatever, but today I won't be doing even a single squat thrust. Not one.

It is important to think of all this not as a diet or "weight loss program," because if you do you end up feeling like it will be impossible to do the rest of your natural life...which you have just made longer by getting healthy. Everyone agrees: it should be a lifestyle change and all of those changes should be sustainable. And I am never going to be willing to give up my Do Nothing Days, nor do I think it necessary. Even at my most self-indulgent I couldn't undo the work I do during the week. I am not worried. Today isn't a "cheat" day either. I don't believe in cheat days; I believe in moderation and self-awareness. So Day of Rest doesn't mean I am going to be eating vegan Twinkies all day, especially because it would mean making vegan Twinkies. It's crazy, Shitty Corner Grocery Store doesn't seem to carry them.

I just briefly fantasized about the Boston cream donut over at Vegan Treats, hmm... Mmmm...
Bleh, no, that would mean riding out there in this heat, ugh, and then riding back with a stomach full of sugar and Palm Oil. [imaginary heat-induced vomiting] I mean, they are tasty but, uh, no thank you.
Plus: DAY OF REST!

I woke up this morning and threw my arms up over my head, which was still buried in the pillow, and shouted, into the pillow, DAY OF REST! and then had a giggle fit.

It's these little moments with myself I enjoy the most sometimes.

First green tea and now this

Blueberries in your daily diet helps your skin look younger

What? DAMMIT!
Do they have to be raw? I bet they do.
I hate blueberries.

The more you know...

I was talking about exercise and self-image with my mother the other night. She is also losing weight and getting healthier...I can just hear her saying, "Well, I don't know about that. I'm trying..." Stop-it, mom, she's doing great. Anyway, she is in an exercise class with a colleague. They both started about the same time though my mother has a bit more to lose than the other woman. She also has some trouble with her knees and recently she had to take some time out to have dental surgery; it'll take all the zoom right out of you. And then she gets back to class and what are they doing? Zumba. And her friend knows all the steps and my mother had to work a bit to pick it up.

"The instructor is up there and she's a tiny little thing and she has tiny little hips and she's shaking her butt so fast I can't even see it anymore! I mean it! She just goes so fast, I can't believe it! and I can't do that, Melynda, I just can't; it's because my butt is so big."

Of course, if you've ever seen a talented, generously-sized Hawaiian hula dancer, you know that is not the case.

"Mom, my butt has got to be bigger than yours and I can shake it pretty fast. I can shake all kinds of stuff. It may not be as aesthetically pleasing as watching her stuff wiggle around but I can do it. And if I can do it, so can you."

So I told her everything I know about shakin' ass. My mother. I taught my mother how to rump shake over the telephone. Yeah, my life—it is never boring.

Mostly I learned what I know from a combination of fearlessness, several years dancing in clubs with a spectacular gay-man-friend, and half-assed—pun intended—study of bellydance. Eventually I hope to study bellydance in earnest but until I feel comfortable walking around in public in a midriff, it's all youtube and Netflix instructional videos.
I've learned a lot. And all that muscular isolation results in a lot of good, strong shimmying. I suppose I had no idea how I would use my new powers when I was learning them but I think if it helps my mother get through an hour of Zumba...for real. I win.

Well, we all do.

We were also talking about a strange tendency I had read about on another blog. The habit of some people to feel less big than they really are. Really, to think of themselves one way instead of constantly feeling the weight and size everyone else sees them as. I do this all the time. Or at least, I think I do.

I don't feel tremendously fat. I don't feel anything about my size other than to acknowledge that I am larger than other people. It isn't until I see a dreaded profile picture, I mean a photograph taken of the sideview of me, that I ever think, "Wow, I look really overweight." So it isn't until then that I feel really overweight. Lately, because exercise requires it, I have been more aware of the size of my body. I can tell that I am going to be more comfortable on a bike after I lose some inches. Now my belly gets in the way sometimes and my legs feel really cramped if I get into any position that isn't sitting straight up on the saddle, none which is comfortable. I know that I will get more out of my mat work (Yoga) when I am smaller because I will have less to lift into inversions, less overall pressure on my joints, and less tissue to work around when I go all pretzel-like. I'm already pretty flexible; without the extra hundred or so pounds...I think I might eventually be able to kiss my own elbow.

I can see where I can improve but I still don't really see myself as fat. There's a difference between knowing a thing, and feeling it, you know? I'm not deluded, thinking I am a svelte jaguar, but I don't think of myself as unpleasantly hugely fat either.

My mother, taking that class with her friend, said, "So there she is, she stands in front of me in the class. So I am looking at her, watching her do all these moves, you know? And she's shaking this way and turning that way and I am following along and I think, 'I'm doing it!' And I get so excited that I'm getting it and I'm not making a fool of myself. And in my mind, I think I look like her. But then I tell myself, Uhm, no, no you don't, silly woman. You still have a looong way to go."

I guess sometimes I do the same thing. I am dancing along to whatever music video, because nothing gets your heart racing like a night in the club but I don't drink and I don't like strangers to sweat on me... most of the time.
So I'm in my apartment killin' it on the floor with J-Lo and I am jumping around and moving and shaking and dropping...and somewhere in there I might realize what I look like from an objective viewpoint...but I feel so Good and I feel so alive and sexy that that's what I think of myself. I project my feelings of power and confidence onto my self-image and I carry that around with me most days. That's what I see when I look in the mirror.

Does it matter what other people see? Or anyway, does it matter more than what I think of myself?

It took me a lot of years to figure out the answer to that.

A ride and some things I am learning to not whine about

I rode for about an hour and forty-five minutes today, bright and early, after only about a minute of kicking my little feet about not wanting to be awake yet...at ten a.m.. Yeah, I am self-employed; I set reasonable hours but I am a harsh task-mistress. And there's no health plan. I've instituted these health incentives instead: If I eat well, take a multi, and work out, I don't die.
I think as far as employee benefits, you can't really get better than that.

Things I am learning to not whine about:

1. Waking up early.

This means any earlier than I would normally let my ass roll around in bed without an alarm or caring about the cat paw swiping at my face. Mostly I wake up to do long rides in the morning before can I feel that my legs Do Not Want. Mostly I have to set two alarms to get me to do it. The crazy thing is, I like mornings. The problem is, I HATE alarms. But for now, while my internal clock seems permanently set to "I hate summer; sleep all day," I set the alarm.

2. Quinoa

I do not like this stuff. I think it tastes off, like something is wrong with it. In the way you'd say that about the super-quiet child who laughs at the wrong moment, "I think there might be something wrong with Geoffrey..." Like that. I dress it up, I flavor it up, I mix it into things, I make salads with it. Still, I end up licking the roof of my own mouth trying to figure out why something just tastes...wrong. However...

Not only is quinoa's amino acid profile well balanced, making it a good choice for vegans concerned about adequate protein intake, but quinoa is especially well-endowed with the amino acid lysine, which is essential for tissue growth and repair.
—from "Quinoa" at http://www.whfoods.org

Damn. So no more whining about quinoa. Though I reserve the right to think that it is beyond awful that there is a Quinoa Corporation, I am just going to suck it up and eat it up. As an ancillary benefit: the more of it I eat, the more I will win at Scrabble.

3. Clothes that don't fit

Actually, I learned not to whine about this one a while ago. If your big problem in life is that you are losing weight so fast that one day you wake up and nothing fits...and you go around sighing and saying, "Woe is me, I am trying to lose weight and it's working and now my clothes are too loose," you will be struck by lightning. Or at least evil-eyed by most women in hearing distance. And some of the men, too, though they might be more subtle about it. It's like that "Friends" scene:

ROSS: I don't know what I'm gonna do. What am I gonna do? I mean, this, this is like a complete nightmare.
CHANDLER: Oh, I know, this must be so hard. "Oh no, two women love me. They're both gorgeous and sexy. My wallet's too small for my fifties AND MY DIAMOND SHOES ARE TOO TIGHT."

Earlier while I was doing some kettlebell stuff I realized that I was gleefully swearing about how much I love exercise.
"GodDammit! I love sweating!" "F--- me!, I AM AWESOME!"

This happens sometimes. I remember this feeling, this feeling of being invincible. Of knowing that, if I had to, I could run (preferably bike) from zombies...if I absolutely had to, of course I would prefer a sawed-off and a couple boxes of ammo but this is about cardio, not about target practice.
I remember back before I slipped into Boyfriend-landia...I felt great physically. I was strong and fitter than now. I was losing weight then too. I ate well and slept easily, and worked out every day. For months I had kept it up. It amazes me that I let that all gradually slip away because I fell in love (and because that person I fell for really likes fatty carbohydrates). Somehow, that doesn't seem right, like somewhere there's a factor missing....

So I guess there's another something I have to learn to not whine about, if only because of the possibilities:

4. Being alone

I'm BRILLIANT!

Instead of just exercising and eating well and losing weight, I am also going to get taller. I'm thinking at least 6-foot, 6'3" or so. And I will wear four-inch heels all the time. No one will ever see the top of my head again. I am GENIUS.

This is what happens when you play with Photoshop.

Stereo-vision

A friend of mine said, the last time she saw me, that I looked different, especially in the face.
Hmm.

I guess it is one of those things where you can't see minute changes in yourself as well as other people who don't see your face all day, every day. I can see that I look different but I tend to think that is because then-boyfriend was already being sort of distant, which hurt and was exhausting—I wore that on my face a lot of the time when the picture on the right was taken. I tend to think that most changes I can see are more attributable to the change that is inevitable when you have to pick yourself up after earth-shattering, soul-ripping heartache.

But it could be the Leslie Sansone Walk Slim DVDs; ass-killin', Beyoncé dance parties; cooking; health-research; and calorie counting that fills all my new spare time.

Thanks horrible breakup! you just might have saved my heart(health) by breaking it.

(I swear I don't fantasize all day about running into the X at NYComiCon in two years, where I will be raging hot in kick-ass "Battle Royale" costume, surrounded by admirers. "Oh—I wow! I never thought I would run into you here. It's great to see you...I know, I look even more incredible than I did before, and that's saying something...Yeah, you're an idiot." I don't fantasize about it All the time. But some of the time, oh, you bet).

I swear I didn't mean to buy food

but I did. I left the house to buy a scale, thinking, "Just because I have it doesn't mean I have to curl up on it when I am not exercising..."

The only scale I found, at the pharmacy by my apartment, was something like, 60 dollars. No thanks. I know about wanting accuracy here but umm, I'm poor.

Anyway, no scale for me. I ended up at the grocery store. I keep going through all my produce and I needed whole grains, apparently. I feel like the website where I analyze my food intake is disappointed in me. "14.6 grams of fiber? Oh, you should be ashamed of yourself! Eat some Brussels sprouts already!"

I would if I could. The store was out.

See, I live in an area where everyone, excuse me, EVERYONE has a car. And if that is an exaggeration, it is not one to say that everyone needs a car. The nearest quality grocery store is an hour-long bus trip and a half-mile walk (one way) away. Normally I would be the first one to say, "Then just walk, lazy," but the groceries suffer. I'm a long time walker from way back. Trust me, the groceries suffer. It would be different in not-90-degree weather but as it is, nothing frozen or prone to wilting would survive. So, except for Thursdays when the Farmers come and set up a tiny market, I shop with the masses at Corner Grocery Store. The cucumbers are rotten. The "fresh" spinach is slimy. The peaches are dotted with spreading bruises, like murky water running under their fuzzy skins. Yum. For that matter, the yoghurt I prefer to buy is often past expiration. I think I am the only one buying it, which probably means they will discontinue it soon.

I wish that living in the poor part of town for once didn't mean getting cut-rate, rotting produce but that is usually the way. I wonder why poor families just choose drive-through fast-food all the time, I mean, there's so much fresh, nutritious food right he— Oh. Right. Slime and mold. I don't even want to know what's going on in the meat section. Ignorance is mandatory in this case.

So I buy frozen and make do. Just because the ideal isn't an option, doesn't mean giving up is an option. This would be true even if I wasn't trying to lose weight. I wish I could still make weekly trips to Heavenly Natural Food Store, but right now I cannot. So I try not to frown at the soda aisle, the Hamburger Helper (and its beef powder), the frozen meals. I just get my dried beans, still-white cauliflower (they must have just arrived today), and frozen spinach.
I do my best to look like this is exactly what people buy at this store all the time; I like to assume some do. The fava beans were probably a bit of a hopeful stretch but hey, at over 7 grams each of fiber and protein per ounce, we should all be joining Mr. Lecter in a bite or two (liver not recommended, ever).

The scale

I am one of those people who not only does not own a scale but I forget that other people have them...and weigh themselves regularly? What's that about?

I have a terrible little story to tell you.
My father, when I was around eight or nine, decided that I was too fat. He told me that no one liked people who are fat and sad; I probably looked sad because he had just told me I was fat. He said people like to be around happy, beautiful people (obviously fat people aren't beautiful...thanks dad).
Anyway, he told me that every time he picked me up and took me to his house for a visit, that he was going to weigh me to see if I had lost any weight. He also told me that whenever he had me that I would be on a diet.

So as soon as humanly possible (it wasn't long) I stopped going over to his house. I realized that he was a...uh, a bad influence, we'll say, pretty early on.

This may have something to do with why no scale and why it never occurs to me to know how much I weigh. But it seems wrong to blog about weight loss without having some sort of quantifiable record of Success. You see those tickers all the time: the ones with a storm cloud on one side, over your starting weight and a rainbow and a pile of money and happiness on the other side over your goal weight. I don't seem to have one of those because I lack a starting weight (though I have a guess), I do not have a bathroom scale, and uh, I also lack a goal weight...it's more like a goal area, give or take twenty pounds.
I guess I already suck at blogging weight loss. But I persevere!

I am taking measurements. I may even post them if I feel particularly brave. There's something so much more visceral, real, 3D about measurements than a simple number on a screen. After all, do you know what 267 pounds looks like on this 33-year-old Mexican chick who is 5'9" and a bit muscly? I thought not. But you probably know that 55 inches is a lot of inches for a body measurement.
I am also taking pictures but considering that I took my first set myself in poor lighting using my laptop camera...I might wait until I can get a friend of mine to do a photo shoot in a week and post those instead. It's good to hang in the artist community; services for trade :)

There are a lot of benefits I bet, to having a scale. I would be able to track my progress with a graph. I like graphs. I would be able to weigh other stuff in my apartment, including my cat. Maybe her complete lack of concern for her weight would rub off on me.
And that's my real concern about getting a scale: I don't want to become numbers obsessed in all this. Until I weighed myself out of curiosity at someone else's house a few weeks ago, I had no idea what I might weigh. No clue. And now I think about that number all the time. 267. 267? 267, hmm. But not because I think it is WAAAY higher than I thought it would be or lower than I thought it might be...I just had had no idea what my weight was. The numbers, as numbers often are, are just so abstract. The way my clothes fit is real; I can understand that. How my ass looks in my underpants—I get that, that's real to me. And the fact that I can run upstairs without breaking a sweat. Rad.
But I can see how I might get sucked into the numbers game. I already sort of have become a bit too concerned with my daily caloric intake and weighing my food. I know that it's important to watch that but I almost feel like when I hit my target intake of food for the day that I should get a pat on the back, "Praise me, PRAISE ME!" even though I am only doing it for myself. How much worse will that be tracking my numeric weight loss?

To scale or not to scale?

New name, new goals, new me

So, SO MUCH has happened, as is often the case when you leave a blog for over a year. I had an exhibition, a mixed manic state (not as fun as it sounds), a relationship and now am in the post-relationship "everything hurts" stage.

They say you should never try to modify a diet, or start a new fitness plan or weight loss regime from a place of turmoil. However, when all you have control over is yourself, your body...it becomes a way of reasserting control, of gaining perspective.

Anyway, all that means is that I am finally going to be honest about the fact that I am trying to lose weight.

I have lost pounds here and there throughout the years but, especially while in this latest relationship, I have gained a few too. Fact is I haven't really put myself on any kind of weight loss plan in over ten years. I've always been overweight; I always thought I would be. But now, free of anyone else's food influence, I can eat how I want again. I can ride all I want, dance all I want. And due to spending so much time with someone who loved me and wanted Me, not an impossibly perfected version of me, a switch flipped and now I can see that I am already beautiful, so this is not coming from a negative place. I think in the past I was always afraid to try to lose weight because I knew I would still hate some part of myself for ever being ugly. Now that I know that I have never been ugly, I can try.

Human psychology is crazy, right?

So here I am, at the beginning. About a hundred pounds. About a hundred miles. About a year and a half to go.