Passions

3 Reasons I'm Glad I Wasn't Born In The Victorian Age

1. Indoor Plumbing

2. Central Air Conditioning

3. Lobotomies

The first 2 seem reasonably self-explanatory, so I'll move on to #3.

I have long contended that had I been born in a different age, I would have been institutionalized for "nervousness". Possibly a lobotomy would have ensued.

I am a woman of passions.

My passions are what propel me to make an entire wardrobe of skirts for Bella instead of just one or two at a time.

They drove me to sell over $1000 worth of furniture and belongings over the summer, leaving not a single drawer, closet or space in our home untouched. Then I redesigned every room of our house on paper complete with measurements and source lists.

My passions make me create and sew an entire arsenal of tools, a veritable sweat shop for a trip with the girls.

They inspire me to create Lola's Legacy, a charitable service in honor of my first child.

However-

These passions also caused me to break down in dramatic sobs at Timm's family reunion last summer when I was totally overwhelmed by the closeness and chaos of 31 people in one house.

They drove me to a lot of illicit and ill-advised behaviors in response to my first diagnosis  with depression.

My passions make me physically recoil from another human touch at the end of a long day with kids.

These passions drive me to way too much thinking, circular and obsessive.

That's the thing I've discovered- you can't have one without the other. Not with me, anyway. With the spark and ignition of inspiration, ideas, extrapolations and sympathies comes anxiety, mood swings, despair and "nervousness". I have long blamed myself for these polarities in my personality, even using them as evidence of unworthiness and believing that I could somehow control it, or turn it off if only I were better. My inability to do so only furthered my beliefs that I was fundamentally 'bad'. Unlovable. Unworthy. Crazy.

And this is me on meds. Seriously. 

But I have this crazy plan to try and accept the good with the bad. Roll with the punches and be grateful that at least I have these passions. To appreciate the thrill of inspiration when it hits and endure the lows that will inevitably come, knowing that they are both parts of the sum.

And the sum is me.

Not good or bad.

Both.

A figurative crazy jumble of good intentions, strong opinions, varied emotions and a little too much introspection and self-derision. 

I Can Do Hard Things

Here's the thing: I am not naturally athletic. Not by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, I think my peak athleticism was in 6th grade when I was the girl to beat, among both sexes, in short sprints. I had a pretty mean slap shot in floor hockey as well, both in gym class with Mr. G, and in my basement where my brother and I may have broken a window a time or two. Ah, the glory days. I suppose I'm one of those nearly middle-aged people reminiscing about their athletic prowess in their school-days. Elementary school days.

At any given moment, i would much rather read a book than exert myself in any way. I would also rather, at all times, be inside the comfort of my climate-controlled air conditioned house fully furnished with couches than to be outside for almost any reason- where temperatures fluctuate, humidity wraps itself around you like a smothering cloak, things are forever swarming and crawling on you. I think Denise said it best when describing our family, "We're low-level recreators".

However, from as early as I can remember, I've envied runners. I always assumed that running was something that required a specific gene- you either had the gene and were therefore a runner or were capable of becoming a runner, or you did not. I fit squarely in the latter group: I definitely did not have the gene. I remember watching Law & Order over the years, and determining if I could outrun my attacker. Sadly in every instance I was forced to stop, doubled over, hands on my knees as I tried to catch my breath and my attacker inevitably overcame me. I could never escape someone in pursuit of me. So I resigned myself to envy and sloth.

It's not that I never tried; I remember several times as a teenager trying to get out there and improve my run: walk ratio, but it was just so hard. And even after 3 or 4 tries I still didn't seem to see rapid improvement. It was still hard. It still made my lungs burn and my feet feel like they were encased in cement blocks. I was an imposter- who was I fooling? I could try and run, but I would still never be a runner. Genetics were against me, and genetics combined with fat legs and a propensity towards laziness were formidable opponents indeed.

I don't know when my mindset changed, but I think about 2 years ago when Fiona was a few months old, I got it in my head that I was going to try again. I know I will never be a talented athlete- I can't play any sports and do not relish any activity where a ball is flying towards my head. I do not enjoy the thrill of exercise. I find it all boring, tedious, and hard. However- I thought through hard work and perseverance, I could train myself to run. You don't necessarily have to have any skill to run, you just need to work hard. And lazy though I might be, I am also quite tenacious. It's one the strange dichotomies of my personality. (Hence, the Badger. Badgers are nothing if not tenacious.)

What appealed to me so much about running was the honesty of it. It was so simple, so clear cut, unpretentious, not contrived. It was hard, but I saw through many examples of former non-runners, it was something you could learn to do. It was solitary. Running took me somewhere, both in my mind on on my feet. Exercise is not a social activity for me. I run to escape. I run to run away from my family. When I run, I am both running towards something, and running to escape something. Only this time it's not an imaginary predator from Law & Order- I am running to escape the pressures and stresses of domestic life. Smotherhood. I am running away from the role of mother and caregiver and running towards myself. While I am running I leave it all out there so that when I return I am ready again. Ready to be the mother. 

6 months ago I was able to run 3 miles at a stretch (albeit very slowly) several times a week. I don't think that I will ever be especially skilled at running, or ever very fast. But the fact that I am running at all, is a huge accomplishment for me. The exhilaration and pride I feel after a run when I have pushed myself to the limit and given everything I have is unrivaled with anything else I have ever done. Running 3 miles was impossible, and I proved to myself that I could do the impossible. That I could change who I was and who I wanted to be. That I could do hard things. And if I could learn to run 3, why not more?

How I Roll

These are the kind of clothes I wear lately. Not that it was a nice shirt to begin with, but now as you can clearly see, it's pretty much trash. Or it would be to most self-respecting people. I however, wear it very regularly.

There are a few reasons for this, primarily because I have no money to buy new clothes. Secondary to that, but only just barely, is the fact that I am not in a physical condition to buy new clothes. I still have about 50 pounds to lose and have been quite complacent about that for far too long. I have a closet full of clothes that don't fit, and even if I had the money to go shopping (which I don't), I wouldn't want or know how to comfortably dress this current body of mine. It's not that I'm unfamiliar with being overweight, but I am never comfortable with it. Especially when it involves confronting a three-way mirror in a public place that is not conducive to fits of despair and audible tears of grief and shame.

But I digress- back to having no money. (It's a common theme in my life.) Not only do we have no money, but we have too much debt. It's a revolving door we have been going through all of our marriage- Not making enough money to get by and then relying on credit cards (or student loans in those days) to cover the neccesities. Usually it is for some actual emergency such as car repairs which are nonnegotiable, or for some of the frivolities I have come to expect like food and shelter for my children. The thing is, this credit card debt is not helping matters. This has come as a shock to me, as I'm sure it will to many of you as well. I will repeat: Credit card debt is not your friend. It's a hard truth to swallow.

We only have one vehicle, and that vehicle already has 200,000 miles on it. Even though we regularly maintenance it and it is in good working condition, I'm sure you can see where I am going with this. With Tim working two jobs, I almost never have access to the car. He works nights and weekends. I have the car available to me only a couple of nights a week, and Sunday, which is irrellevant. We need to have a plan for another car, or the scenario which is more fitting for my life: When we are finally able to afford a second car, our first will finally die, leaving us with- one car, again. Either way, we need a plan. Not that we haven't formulated plans in the past, it's just those frivolous luxeries we continue to indulge in, that is, food and shelter. The thing is, we already have a pretty tight budget. Not a lot of wiggle room, not a lot of extras. (Hence the holey, embarrasing clothing.) But we are making some serious strides and sacrifices to pay off those credit cards by this time next year so that we are in a position to get a used car. I'm not sure if it is possible, especially since our tax return this year is less than half what it has been in the past. The lowest one we have ever received; it will definitely not have quite the impact on this debt that I envisioned.

What you should take from this, the point I am trying to make is: you might get crap for gifts this year.

If at all.

And I will look super trashy.

 So, you know- status quo.

The Easy Road

A while back I started to come to terms with the fact that I am lazy, and I try to find ways to work with that character flaw. That's when I came up with this mantra. Recently I've had a new epiphany, which I specifically related to food and dieting, but really applies to any choices we make. Not surprisingly, it centers on doing the least amount of work possible. No, rather it centers on being as efficient as possible. Getting the most return for the least amount of work. Yes, 'efficient'-that sounds much better than lazy. The premise? It's easier to make the right choice in the first place. Take food for example: it's easier to eat the apple and avoid the cake. If I eat the apple the hardest part is to resist temptation, which can be really hard. But in return I gain more self-control, I exercise my muscle of resistance, I feel good about myself, and I lose weight, creating a virtuous cycle. If I eat the cake, the easy part is eating it. Yum. But then comes the inevitable consequences of eating more cake (still yum), weakening my resistance for next time, feeling bad, feeling guilty, gaining weight, and creating a viscous cycle. Bleh. Too many consequences. It's easier to choose the right (food) to begin with.

Imagine my surprise when Linda and I saw this poster at our last Weight Watchers meeting:

Ha! I didn't know President Benson was a Weight Watchers member! Who knew he was a dieting sage as well as a prophet? Well, whatever he was, he nailed my sentiments. Swap out 'better' for 'easier' and it's my philosophy exactly. So whether it be related to food or sin, I contend it is easier to do the right thing to begin with and skip all those nasty consequences- be it fat jeans or eternal damnation. A moment (or two) of self discipline, saving you from a lot of unhappiness. Sounds a lot like my other mantra: 

A little now will save me from a lot later.

I'm making laziness work for me.

Thankful for my body

Running is my Everest. That, and depression. Both Everests. The two are so analogous to me in many ways, but I shall enumerate those reasons later. Today I am thankful for the amazing, wonderful things my imperfect body can do. Far more than I give it credit for. I haven't run for about a year (wah wah), and even when I did last year, it was more "running" than running. Know what I mean? In fact it is only for my psyche and morale that I refer to it as running instead of jogging, or more accurately, 'wogging'. 

Trisha and I have been exercising together in the mornings as often as our schedules allow. Last week she promised me that I could run a mile, even though I am seriously out of shape and haven't run in a year and even then 1 mile was about the longest I could run without stopping. Incredulously, but hopefully I started out with her-and guess what? I could run mile without stopping. Rather, I could "run" a mile without stopping. But I did it. A few days later we went again and she tried to trick me into running 3 miles. Ha! I did, however run a combined total of 2.5 miles and walk a half, though not consecutively. Today I ran 2.8 miles straight! The only times I paused were to try and assuage a crying Fiona, and then it was only for a moment and I started right back up. No walking. I have never run that far without stopping, which I find simultaneously pathetic and amazing. I credit the success to going with Trisha who pushes me in a supportive and confident manner. Can't wait to see what I can do next time!

So to recap my body's quick improvement, that was:

Run1- run a mile.

Run 2- run a combined 2.5 miles interspersed with walking breaks

Run 3- run 2.8 miles straight!

My body may not look exactly the way I want it to right now, but it sure is amazing.

I have a disorder

...But I'm not sure what it should be called.

I do this a lot. I am all in, or I am all out. Another one of my mantras lately, at least that I am trying to adopt, is 'Small and Consistent', as in my efforts. So, in complete and abject opposition to that, I am burying myself in a project. I've always been intimidated by sewing, in general, but clothing specifically. 

So a few days ago I decided I would sew Bella a skirt. 

Actually an entire wardrobe of nothing but skirts. 

Before school starts. 

Next week. 

And then I would embellish and accessorize an entire wardrobe of t-shirts with various methods, and coordinating hair clips, pins, and brooches. 

She starts kindergarten next Thursday. 

That's a week from tomorrow.

I have 12 skirts planned.

I cut all my fabric, using 7 different patterns, or tutorials so far. Also, did I mention I have never made an article of clothing in my life? Except this one. I finished this a couple of days ago, so there's 1 down and 10 to go. There are a couple of egregious errors, but ones that I can learn from and not repeat. Hopefully. I'll keep you posted.

Check out the tutorial I used!

I love those rare instances when I have a moment of clarity and feel like...myself. My weight has fluctuated over the years, but mostly with pregnancy. After I had Bella I lost the weight quickly and got below my pre-pregnancy weight and felt great. After she turned 2 it crept up a bit, but after we moved to NC I gained 60-yes, sixty pounds. Wow. Then I got pregnant with Fiona. Since I had Fiona I've lost about 50 pounds from my delivery weight, but I still have close to 40 pounds to lose. The closer I get to my goal weight the closer I feel to returning to myself, so why is it so hard to keep that in mind? I think it's a matter of faith and delayed gratification. Good food is instantaneous, right here, right now, whereas weight loss is a slow and arduous process whose results cannot be measured immediately. I know eating right and exercising works- it has worked for me many times before, and it is no small feat that I have lost the weight I already have. Why then, am I not more consistently dedicated? Why can't I keep in mind my true goals and desires more often?

At the very least, I am hoping that this slow and incremented process of losing weight ensures a better chance of maintaining the loss. I am really trying to focus on balance and making regular and consistent choices that I can live with.

On Saturday, before going to Chase's coming home party, I felt really good. I felt close to myself. A self that has been buried deep beneath the rubble of fat, self-consciousness, and at times, loathing. I feel like I am ever so slowing digging myself free, and the more I lose, the more I feel like myself again. I even act more like myself because I feel more free, less encumbered and confident enough to put it all out there.

I'm documenting all of this to help me remember how it feels to be me. How I feel when I take care of myself and when I treat my body with intent, love and respect instead of haphazard and indulgent debauchery. I turned 29 a couple of weeks ago and I really want to love my body and myself before I turn 30. I don't want to look back on my 20's ( at least the last half-) with regret and embarrassment. I want to greet 30 feeling the best I have in years, feeling like a competent and confident woman. A woman who is a mother of 3, has weathered a few storms and come out on top. A woman who has conquered anything set before me.

I've got one year to get back to me.

VALUE

Last year I didn't pick a word.
It's not because I couldn't think of a word, but because I could not think of how to narrow it down. When I thought, what do I want to change? How do I want to improve? Ha! The thoughts flood my mind so quickly and rampantly that soon I can't distinguish one from another. I seriously could not identify one quality or aspect that I could single out over another that I wanted to change. If I tried to settle on one I was immediately thinking, but what about ****, or ****- I have to stop/change/start doing that. The fact that I can't narrow down the myriad of ways I feel I need to improve seems problematic to me. 
So this time I decided to think, why is that? What is the root- why do I feel so...much less?
And there it is. I feel much less than most people. Not always, not everyone, but enough that it feels like a stumbling block for a lot of progress, or at the very least, peace.
So it seemed evident-value. I need to find and appreciate and believe in my value- intrinsically. Value that doesn't change based on my weight, my productivity, my creativity, etc etc etc. I could fill a book with my insecurities. The funny thing is, I like myself. I think I'm nice, compassionate, empathetic, genuine, generous, sometimes pretty,smart and funny as hell. Sounds pretty good, no? Except I seem to believe that I am fundamentally less than others. At my core I believe I am either less able, capable, or worth as much as the rest. Or if I am worth as much, I demean that value by squandering the potential I have been given and living less than I could. I cannot exist without measuring myself against all that I meet. People I love, people I admire, people I don't even know, people I see and judge as superior. I get insecure, threatened and eventually down on myself. And why? "Could it be...Satan?" I know his ways. I know the way he works, insidiously destroying our worth and sense of self. But I still allow it to work. Jerk!
So it comes to this. I need to identify and believe in my inherent worth that is equal to all others.
How? I read a lot of self-improvement books but I seem to negate most of that wisdom with my immediate self-deprecation. The only thing I know that works, but don't utilize enough, is prayer. That's how I will find it and beleive it in. So that is my mission this year, and for always.
Besides finding my own value I am also exploring what it is I value.Do I live my life in accordance to what I value, or do I waste a lot of time and my life on things of no import that merely take up space and time? 
So my mission, should I choose to accept it, is to find my own value while identifying what it is that I value.
Easy, right?

All is Well.

Enough.
All is well, enough.
I've been working hard at feeling better and there is a remarkable correlation to food and my mood. Yes, a correlation I made months ago but somehow failed to keep in the forefront of my mind. Even now I really want some cake. And ice cream. Anything with chocolate, caramel. Maybe even Pez if I'm desperate. Which I am. But not Necco wafers. Never those. Un/fortunatley we purposely have nothing good in the house. No sugary goodness anyway.
I'm close to fiending.
Add Michelle's painful jealousy-inducing London posts and it doesn't help. Missing her doesn't help either. Nor does the fact that I can't call her.
So in short, there is no need for outreach phone calls though I appreciate the concern. Also, don't take it personally if I haven't called you back (yet). It's part and parcel of the depression gig. Avoidance. Isolation.
I'm feeling much better through a concerted effort. A very concerted effort. It wearies me to think of always having to work this hard, that I live in this cyclical world where one day things are peachy and the next I've been sucker-punched. Nevertheless, depression is a trial I've been allotted here on earth and even though sometimes things look dire, over the years I really have improved. I used to feel this way most of the time. It used to take me weeks and weeks to pull out of it. Now I can't remember the last time I felt this poorly. So it's a step.
I don't like that I have to work so hard, but its usually better than the alternative. I just hope the people around me can continue to ride the waves as long as I continue to try and sail them.

{Permission hereby granted to anyone who wants to discreetly and understandably bow out of my life.}

Self-Indulgent Rant, or 'Creative Frustration'

I tend to be very passionate about whatever it is that I am interested in at the time. Sometimes these things are more fleeting than others, but I approach everything head-on with an all-consuming devotion. Even if it turns out that I lost interest quickly or change my mind, at the time I really was genuinely passionate about it. One cannot tell from the outset whether the notion will be transient or lasting because I always have this genuine interest.
Usually I research the ins and outs of the subject before deciding whether or not to pursue it. Such was the case with keeping chickens. I was really interested in it, but approached it with the caution it deserved, not wanting to ultimately be stuck with a flock of chickens and their adjoining waste if later the idea lost some of it luster. I read 2 or 3 books, talked to a couple of experienced chicken keepers and mulled it over for a while. Fortunately I decided that at least for the time being, chicken-keeping was more than I wanted to handle. Whew- we dodged that one. Luckily for everyone, my sometimes-fleeting interests do not always carry the threat of avian bird flu, mounds of feces or accompanying flies. My current love does not come with any real threats to my safety or the happiness of others around me.
Sewing.
I've been into sewing for a long time. I started my first quilt 12 years ago, and it is still unfinished, not for lack of interest but perhaps because of the magnitude of the project. That's another problem. After reading and researching, sketching and brainstorming I attack it with a zeal that would indicate that I actually know what I'm doing or have experience in the field. I figure, 'I can figure it out. I can do that.' Oftentimes I cannot. Then frustration and cursing ensues.
Now that Fiona is officially one year old (!!) I feel like I have the freedom and presence of mind to explore my passions. Finishing a lap quilt while at Michelle's house gave me the confidence to sew again, so I came home and started filling notebook with designs and ideas. I have visions of grandeur of filling my etsy shop again, updating daily, hand-made gifts for everyone, shunning the opulence and emptiness of consumer-driven store bought gifts. I start collecting materials everywhere I can- Goodwill has been a great place for vintage sheets and fabric. I start drawing patterns and get to work creating, trying to translate my ideas to tangible items. This is where the frustration comes in. I don't actually know what I'm doing. My talents and abilities do not match my visions! It is SO frustrating to have this break in communication. It makes me feel demoralized and like I have no business doing this and why do I even try?! So I curse and pout and put it down. The next day I wake up, look at it and tackle it again.
I need help.
Maybe more ways than one.

Verdict

The verdict is in: I am not doomed to an eternity of humiliation and blistered heels. Not today, anyway.
I was able to get in 2 runs this week before the race. Not great, but something. The first one was killer and the second was pretty good. I was still feeling nervous about it, but ready to face the music. The result? I beat my last time! By...

3 seconds. Seriously.

Awww yeah- Rockstar!

However, in my defense, this course was very hilly and harder than my previous two- Plus, i have been so lazy the last couple of months that I'm almost amazed I beat my time at all. However, I am still anxious to register for one next month and spend the next few weeks training to shave a couple/few minutes of my time. If I'm going to keep doing this, and I plan to, I need to find a sponsor! We just don't have it in the budget to pay race registration fees, let alone every month! The price of fitness.

I'm proud of myself for doing it even though I was afraid of the results this time. I'm proud that I ran the first mile without stopping to take a walk break. I'm proud that I completed a third race, that I have stuck with it and was ready to face the consequences of my laziness. I'm proud that it inspired me to keep working. However. It is hard not to diminish my efforts and achievements. I finished 95/100 in my division. I was in the 5th percentile. Awesome. Now, if there was a division for 28-year old women who have had three children by C-section in the last four years, one in the last year, who have only been running inconsistently for a few months, has lost 35 pounds and has Morton's neuroma, then maybe I could place. Anyone know of that race?
It kind of makes me feel like a loser that I am proud of my meager achievement, that my best is so far from anyone else's worst...I know I am generalizing- I wasn't the very last, after all, but still.
I imagine that everyone else there has always been running, that it has been easy for them, that they've always enjoyed it and been good at it. That none of them were ever in my shoes. Literally and figuratively.
I have plans and goals for the future but I get frustrated thinking that maybe I don't have the same athletic potential as others. That my goals may be unrealistic and laughable. Will I make the progress that I hope for? Do I just have to patient with my somewhat slow progression? I still feel like a fraud among other runners.
One more under my belt.

In Flight Entertainment

On Wednesday, almost a week ago, we flew into Salt Lake. Even under the best of circumstances flying with children is hard. It tries the patience of even the best of parents. Luckily for us it went pretty well. Fiona, true to form, was very active and loathe to sleep during our travel, not being her familiar crib. We had to fly to Atlanta first which is really frustrating since it doesn't actually get us any closer to our destination, only more South. So after 4 or 5 hours of traveling we were still no closer than we were in Charlotte. It was as though our trip was just beginning. Both of the kids did wonderfully as we tried to keep them constantly entertained. Fiona was the most difficult since she doesn't have her own seat, she refuses to sleep, she can't color, watch anything for an extended period of time etc... Things that always work: food. Timm crushed the delicious hard buttery cookies they give you and spoon fed them to her. AS you can see, she was delighted.
Bella was a great sport throughout the whole day and was rewarded with a visit to the cockpit of our first flight. I'm not sure she actually looked around once she was there as she was posed for the picture and quickly ushered out. At least she can study the details retrospectively in the photo.
This was a huge mural in the Charlotte airport that I had never seen before. I loved it! It was right up my alley- a beautifully painted pastoral scene, layered and collaged with numbers, texture and the like. It was in two parts, and super long! It was positioned right under the moving walkway and I snapped these pictures between passengers.



It reminded me of Shell, thinking she would appreciate the art. All in all, the trip was better than I thought it would be, but I did have Timm's assistance and two fairly happy girls. The trip back will be more complicated...
Updates of the trip to come.
Currently broadcasting from Fairview/Bird's Eye, Utah.
Over and out.

Day 2- Sugar Mintuea for my own records-

Today went pretty well.
Most notably, my mood and energy levels were even all day. That is huge- that is my main complaint and the leading reason for me to give up sugar in the first place. I took a nap this evening because I could but not because I felt like I had to. I felt fairly motivated throughout the day and was not eye-crossingly sleepy at any time. (I usually am on any given day at any given time.) I was able to do some light housecleaning (let's not get carried away-), do errands with the girls, play with the girls, do bath times and go running after they were in bed. Most importantly, I didn't get frustrated or irritated repeatedly.
I still haven't had/made the time to plan meals, or had any money to go grocery shopping for that matter, so my food choices may not be ideal or balanced, but it worked for today. For breakfast I made a smoothie, my breakfast of choice on most days. I made it with cooked sweet potatoes, banana, skim milk, protein powder and oatmeal. Oh and lots and lots of ice. 2 trays I think. Don't knock the sweet potatoes, it's really good. Bella loves it too. So I got my fruit, vegetable, good carb, protein and fat-free dairy. Then for lunch I had a quick bowl of brown rice, canned chicken and whole peas. I had a snack of cheese later and plain shredded wheat with skim milk for dinner. After my run I finished some more of my sweet potato smoothie and some Triscuits. Kind of random, but ZERO sugar or flour today. I feel good. AND- our home teachers brought us a box of Dunkin Donut's donut holes, and I abstained. Of course, they're still on the kitchen table so Timm better get eating.
To answer a repeatedly-asked question, I am doing this before vacation because if I didn't I would probably come back 50 pounds heavier. I have already been reading about it and thinking about doing it and I figured I had better get a head start before I enter the lion's den. The lion's den is a diet-free zone where I am not in complete control of the menus, the food selection and will be buffeted with sweets and treats on every side. If I didn't have some sort of buffer ahead of time I'm afraid I would just eat my way through 3 weeks, come back heavier than before i started Weight Watchers and in a downward spiral of weight gain. So I'm heading it off at the pass.
I (briefly) tried to quit sugar a few years ago, but I think it was based on some noble and lofty ideal. This time it is because I have long suspected that sugar has something to do with my mood swings, depression and chronic fatigue. This time I am doing what I do best, reading all I can about the subject, so I am backed with scientific evidence and horrific nutritional facts. This time I am approaching it from a holistic viewpoint as a way to help treat the depression and other nagging complaints I have been plagued with for years.
As for couponing, you raise a good point, kind of. For one thing, I really believe there can be benefit for anyone to coupon, no matter what you buy or eat. For instance, it will still enable me to get toiletries for free or nearly free. I still buy rice, oatmeal, couscous, frozen and canned veggies, meat, cooking ingredients, whole-grain cereal, yogurt, cheese, milk...I have coupons for all of these things. Plus, the only better deal than a really great deal is not buying it at all. It's true that I do not get coupons for some things which is regrettable. I haven't quite figured out what to do about that. For instance, I wish we could eat salmon twice a week but we can't afford it. We don't even eat t once a month, but we all love it. I am planning on starting a garden and growing it as large as I can handle eventually, doing lots of canning and preserving so that will help cut down on the budget. It's too bad that eating well frequently costs more than poor nutrition.
I do have an advantage that I have been 'dieting' for 5 months already, having lost 33 pounds, so these new restrictions are not totally foreign. I have been in training for a while now. If I were going from my previous eating habits straight to no sugar and flour I would have hurt many people by now, day 2.
So we continue.
And really, check it out- Sugar Shock!
p.s. I went to the high school tonight for the first time. I only felt like doing 9 laps instead of my intended 12 to make 3 miles, however I only walked 1.5 of the 9 laps! Yay me!

One down.

Day One without sugar.
Not good.
but I did only eat a very nominal amount. Very. I had a bowl of Cheerios, which has about a gram of sugar, a few baby banana cookies which each have about a gram and some Cool Whip Free that has that high fructose corn syrup nonsense in it even though it only has 15 calories. I wanted to go totally cold turkey, but that's pretty close. I did have 2 Coke Zeros, which I also wanted to nix but I'm not sure I can do sugar and crack at the same time.
This latest book I'm reading called Sugar Shock is very interesting and informative. I will be highly recommending it to everyone, so get your arsenal of defense ready if you don't want to be swayed.
I wish I owned the book (it's a library book) because I want to mark it, highlight it, dog ear it... I have to keep reminding myself that it will get easier the longer I abstain from the villainous sugar in all its forms. I have to wait and allow my body to detox. Right now my body, my blood, my brain screams for the white stuff, but it will abate in time. I just need to hang in there and be patient. One of the hard parts is figuring out what to eat- since I'm avoiding sugar in all of it's forms, as an ingredient in any product as well as white flour and it as an ingredient it eliminates a lot of things. I have to think protein, and I've never been especially drawn to protein. i don't do well hungry so I better find some things to eat. That's going to mean eliminating most packaged foods and a lot of planning on my part.
Day One down.

Best for Last

When I began running a couple of months ago I knew it would be a process. I knew it would be hard, that it would take resolution, and there would definitely be some embarrassment involved. I actually prefer running in the early morning or at night to secure as much solitude as possible and avoid said embarrassment while relishing the time alone. As I started thinking about races I wondered and worried about coming in last place but thankfully dismissed the notion since many people walk the entire course, giving me some room for accomplishment.
Well, it happened.
I was last.
Dead last.

And actually, it wasn't so bad. I crossed the finish line smiling while every other race participant looked on, cheering. It was however, my second race of the day. The kid's fun run I did with Bella after my own 5k on the morning of the 4th, of which while close, I did not come in last.
Bella has been vying to join me on a run and in a race since I started telling her about my first 5k. Since she can't make it down the block without lying prone on the sidewalk I seriously doubted her commitment or ability to either of these endeavors, but not wanting to quash a worthy ambition I indulged her and paid the $10 to register her for the 'Fun Run'.
From the onset there was an abundance of complaining to which I responded by informing her of my impromptu first rule of running: There is no whining in running. I told her that running is hard and everyone knows that running is hard but we can do hard things. Apparently my pep talk didn't have much of an impact on her because not more than a few yards in she lost the capacity to voluntarily propel herself. The rest of the race consisted of me holding her hand, more or less pulling her along, continually telling her she was doing a great job, asking if she was ready to try running again, reminding her that there was no stopping during a race all the while observing kids of every age running past us. At some point a bribe of chocolate milk was offered.
By this point we are secured in our hindmost position, nearing the finish line with everyone watching from the sidelines. I try to inspire her to finish strong and somehow, perhaps motivated by he crowds, the cheering, the promise of chocolate milk, she runs. Everyone who has participated in the event and the event planning is standing on the sidelines cheering, singularly for Bella. An older gentleman reaches his hand out to give her high-5. The announcer calls her number and congratulates her. Hundreds of people, from young children to seniors are all clapping, calling, and cheering for this one little 4-year old as she pushes herself and those little legs over the finish line. I lope along just behind her, a bit sheepishly but mostly blissful as she crosses and a medal is bestowed upon her neck, a prize awarded to all the kids in the fun run. As she receives this commendation she aptly responds by declaring 'I never dreamed of this!'
After this she doesn't seem to have any recollection of being last, only of finishing. Only the applause and the award. We stop at the grocery store on the way home for our hard-earned recovery chocolate milk and she wears her race bib and her medal through the store frequently telling me she 'can't believe she got the first medal!' Why would I correct her?
I doubt she'll remember this for very long, having the fickle memory of a 4-year old. I hope she will participate again so she can experience the thrill of victory, the triumph of effort and the sound of hundreds of voices raised in chorus of praise for her alone, if only for a moment.
How often do any of us get to appreciate that?

I Did It!! (The Long Version)

I am the prodigal blogger- I can't explain why,or give particulars, but I feel so busy lately. Just life. Nothing of note, nothing unusual, nothing that every other housewife and mother of young children doesn't do on a daily basis. As life goes, I find myself becoming more and more busy-busyness that I know will only increase with time. Good busy, but I'm still having a hard time managing my time. Finding time to cook, clean, meal plan, coupon, garden, exercise, laundry,ironing, grocery shop, do errands, play with my kids, take care of the pets, have a life, sleep... I need better time management skills. Still, despite sporadic exercise lately I did make time to run my first race!
It seemed almost anticlimactic by the time I did it. For the last couple/few weeks I have corrected many misconceptions about a 5k and races in general. It usually went something like this:
'How long is a 5k exactly?'
'Just 3.1 miles.'
'Oh, that's not bad at all.'

or

"Wow! 5 miles!'
'No, it's a 5K, so 3.1 miles.'
'Oh.'

Many instances of downplaying the feat or having others minimize it for me. Then one day Linda asked me when my marathon was. I sputtered, "A marathon?! No, it's only a 5k.' She asked what the difference is, I told her and tried to explain that people train forever to do marathons and that is a completely different thing. Like, something I hope to do someday, but...ha. No, 3 miles. Again, minimizing. I talked to Nana the night before the race and she also wished me luck on my marathon. I just let it slide.
So by the time I actually got there to do it, I kind of felt like... much ado about nothing.
Still, I was pretty pumped to pin my bib on. Timm had to work so he couldn't go but he snapped a couple of shots before he left.
I really hate this picture, but I am posting it for motivation to keep it up. It is evidence that although I have lost weight, there is still a lot to lose. Yuck.
Luckily I was able to drop the girls off at Molly's for the race. It happened to go through her neighborhood so it was convenient- for me, at least. I dropped them off and Molly drove me to the congregating crowd before the race. I checked in and got my timing chip and tied i ton my shoe. Walking through the crowd I felt like a total fraud. I felt like it was painfully obvious that I've never done this before, I wasn't a 'real' runner, evidenced by my lumpy 'Athena'-like non-runner's body. Luckily I did know 2 other people in the race and we started together. There were 800 runners!
When we started it was so cool- they closed one side of the roads, so we had 2 or 3 lanes to comfortably run through. I was of course in the back of the pack, which did have the advantage of a very cool sight. Hundreds of runners spanning the horizon, all heading for the same goal, the same finish line. There were even small children, from 5 and up.
My synopsis: it was great. It was hard. 3.1 miles is a lot longer than you might imagine. Even the slightest of inclines is brutal when you're running it, especially when you're out of shape and overweight. My goals were 3-fold: Run as much of it as I could, come in under 45 minutes, and push myself to my limit. I'm happy to say that I did all three. On paper, (or in pictures-) my accomplishment doesn't look like much. My time was 43:14, and I came in 734th place, out of 775. I beat 41 people, none of which were several octogenarians that passed me, young children, and a blind guy with a 4-foot pole leading the pack. Still. I worked hard. I can say I worked as hard as I could. In fact, at times I was dizzy, had chills, and felt a little sick to my stomach-probably signs of overexertion or overheating, but I'd be damned if I stopped or slowed down. I might not have had a spectacular performance, but I ran 3.1 miles, the same distance, the same as everyone else did. The good part is that as long as I continue to train it should be easy to continually improve my time! The next one I want to do is on the 4th of July, so my goal is to improve my time. By what, I don't know.
Molly brought my 2 and her 2 kids to the last turn to see me and cheer me on. Sebastian and Bella were holding construction paper signs for me and cheering. It definitely gave me a boost for the last hill right before the finish line. I also had a friend who ran ahead of me waiting for me at the finish. That helped too.
It was such a fun, festive atmosphere. It was like a party! The whole parking lot was filled with local businesses and their booths. There was a local radio station, Rita's Water Ice giving out free ice, baked goods, bananas, PowerAde, massage chairs, and on and on. People stayed for at least an hour or hour and a half after I finished, just socializing, glowing. It felt awesome to be part of the collective.

Sweaty, afterwards.
My shoes, laced the way Hannah showed me to help alleviate my Morton's Nueroma as best i can. (Basically a pinched nerve in my toes. Not fun.) Incidentally, these are some sweet Sauconys that are usually upwards of $100 that I got for $30- deal master!
my dues.
Ever since I started this attempt at running my right heel continues to bleed as it tries to form an effective callous. It keeps rubbing the same spot every time, so its taking a bit to toughen up. Luckily, I don't even feel it anymore. I'm concentrating more on the pinching nerve pain in my left foot and the resulting hip pain I have after I finish from my different leg lengths. (Apparently.) I'm not complaining, I'm just sayin...
So there you have it. A very detailed account of 43 minutes of my life this last Saturday. I can't wait to do it again. I haven't run since then, spending the time taking Advil and resting my hip. Tomorrow I hit the pavement again at 5 am.