Tag Archives: running

30 by 30?

Okay, two in one day.  So be it.

So I spent my spring break going to doctors’ appointments.  I had not been in awhile, and much of my life as of late is about minimizing regret.  Therefore, if I have a horrible, non-communicable disease that I die of anytime soon, it won’t be for lack of trying to be healthy.  All of my reports from my doctors tell me, “You are a ‘well adult’.”  It’s so strange to use “well” as an adjective.

Lack of trying though.  Lack of trying.

My mother, who for all intents and purposes is awesome, has finally decided that she really wants to lose weight.  She is turning an undisclosed decade older (as in age ending with zero) in June of 2013, and she wants to be down about 100 pounds by then.  She’s already down 14, with only about six weeks work, and just changing habits.

Granted, whatever health issues have accumulated over the years for her may be not fixable by losing weight now, she is making a genuine effort to prolong herself and her health.  I think that, despite even what fabulous writers such as Kate Harding say, there are health benefits that one reaps upon losing some amount of weight.

I won’t ever have to worry about having an eating disorder, especially when I’m married to someone who says on a Saturday morning, “We need to go to Publix, because I want to make tater tot casserole in the crock pot tomorrow.”  I have married friends who are similarly higher-BMI-than-they-used-to-have-and-happy, but there definitely are benefits.

So yeah.  In six months I’ll be 30 (or as my SVE kids say, “When the lonliness comes!”), and aside from my mother’s inspiration, my very close friend K told me that we were going to Vegas for our Joint 30th Birthday Celebration, and my husband was only invited if he was to be a chaperone.  (Note: T-storm is a terrible, terrible drunk girl chaperone.  My good buddy Ryan is much more adept at that job but I don’t know that he gets to come, either.)

K had two long term relationships, right out of high school, one much longer than the other but regardless, very very little self time after age 18.  About two years ago, after traveling like a maniac for her new job, she appeared at our housewarming party when we first moved in here, skinnier than she’d ever been, newly highlighted, having made delicious food, single, with a mongo bank account, and oh shit.  She had made the decision that she was doing to do her very best for herself, and damned if every single person around her didn’t take notice.

We have partied a good deal down here in SoFla, and at the very local gay clubs, although admittedly the partying has quieted down in the post-wedding phase, she informed me a few weeks ago that seeing that we turn 30 two weeks apart, she has frequent flier miles and her sister has the hotel/spa hook-up in Vegas.

She bought the Brazilian butt-challenge (wow, that sounds just…oh man) DVD, and wants to be as sexy as humanly possible by then.

I’m definitely hesitant when it comes to Vegas.  It makes me think less about Katy Perry and The Hangover and more of (mythical) goddesses being killed off in Neil Gaiman’s American Gods.  Or a barely surviveable weekend, as depicted in the movie Go.

However.  Her news, her goals, the trip, my mother, and my doctors’ appointments all made me realize.

a) It won’t kill me to and

b) it would make me physically feel better and

c) it would be a good goal to have to

lose 30 pounds by my 30th birthday.  Of course, this began as 25, but now I’ve got six months, so 30 is a good round number before that effervescent 30th birthday.  FUN RIGHT!?

I don’t want to make this into a “my weight loss journey” blog.  Because I’m probably too irreverent for that.  I don’t intend on inspiring anyone, at least not in this manner, and yeah.  I might not even succeed, seeing that the first mention of this tater tot casserole was yesterday, and I ate two full bowls of it today and oh dear lord in heaven.  My cholesterol is super duper low but I can feel my arteries clog as we speak.  (A few years ago, it was lower than my doctor’s.  My response?  “Eight years of veggie burgers For The Win!”)

Point being, if you write it down, it will keep you honest.  At least, that’s how it’s worked with me in the past.  Thus, I am writing it down.  And listening to I’m From Barcelona.  And maybe my hilarious stories of trying not to eat Reese’s Chocolate Peanut Butter Ice Cream cups and running and being sweaty will and meeting strange grunting men on the fitness trail might help someone.  Or at least entertain them.

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Filed under health

health, baking, and being a type-A eccentric.

Jesus H Christ.

I guess the fact that my chosen career path is more along the lines of creative ideals is a good one.  I am terrible, I repeat, TERRIBLE at sustained changes.

There was a fitness center that opened up around near us.  We paid ahead for what seemed like a great deal: crossfit style classes with total personal attention.  Or as it turned out, too much personal attention.  Not enough people signed up and the trainers (a married couple, and we really liked them) had to up and leave.  Eventually we’ll get our money back.  Eventually.  Hopefully.  Ugh.

T-storm even went so far as to get on their eating plan, which was like muscle milk followed by rice, broccoli & either tilapia or chicken like 6 times a day.  (The muscle milk being breakfast.)  Since our friends have been gone for a few weeks, tonight while helping me with my baking supplies run at 8:30 on this Sunday night (he drove the getaway car), he bought a box of Oreo Klondike bars.  How little time it takes to slip back.

We both admittedly eat more fast food than we should, as our jobs are stressful and the last two weeks have been a lot of 10-12 hour days.  And as a result, we exercise less.  The proximity and the ass-kickingness of our trainers was helping us.  Over my break, I did 275 push-ups in two days.  Yes, me!!

When I see people talk about making positive life changes, and creating habits that are lifelong, I try to think that way.  I try to zen out and think of the future.

But screw that.  I am a competitive, project-based kind of thinker.  I don’t think of what will get me somewhere in the long run.  I think of getting this task done.  Hence why I loved being a college student, and extended my stay (willfully) in undergrad.  Hence why I loved wedding planning (stressful and bonkers as it was).  PROJECT!

So tonight I tried to take on a project – a banana bread mix with vanilla pudding mix in it.

And shortening.  For the first time, I find myself cooking with shortening and I look at the ingredients.  WHOLE BEAN NON-HYDROGANATED PALM OIL.  It’s like nutritional heroin.  NOTHING ABOUT THIS IS GOOD.

I suppose I could be a wretch and just um, eat butter instead.  And really, that’s a pretty damned good idea, because butter is just BUTTER.  It’s not horribly processed worst imaginable part of a vegetable.  Dearest Gina (the other half of the Five Percent Rule) gave us some Rebel Nutritionist Rules in the past, one of them being “eat more butter.”  Not like on or with everything.

But I sure eat real butter when butter comes up, and I also drink real half & half, rather than the International Flavor junk, which is all full of palm oil stuff and horrible other things that humans were probably never meant to consume.

Anyway.  Seeing that I’m totally forgetful and tend to live from project to project, and not with any real true stability in mind (don’t even talk to me about finances), we are missing something important at home.  FLOUR.  And we really like our neighbors (at least the ones across the hall) but we’re not close enough to them that we’d ask them to borrow some flour.  I went through an insane baking streak on Christmas Eve this past year and had my mother-in-law bring some back over.

We had enough for those cookies.  No extra.  So we made a bonus trip to the store for shortening and chocolate chips (which are much healthier than the shortening) and now even though I started late I can’t bake the extra moist chocolate chip banana bread.

Like I said, everything is a project.  As my mother would say about me, I get a “bee in my bonnet” and I just have to do something, at whatever moment it is, regardless of how convenient it is.  Which in some manner of speaking gets me a reputation for getting things done, and in others makes me a nutjob.

Back to shortening.  Just the thought of scooping it out made me feel like Paula Deen.  Ugh.  I’m not the healthiest person, but I am also lucky enough to not take a liking to the most unhealthy foods.

And healthy eating is like fitness for me.  My next goal is running a half marathon.  A friend of mine who’s been doing lots of exercise craziness and Paleo diet with her husband for the last year or so posted a little graphic on Pinterest, stating, “I’m not training for a 5K.  Blah blah blah.  I’m not trying to impress you.  I’m saving my life.”

I can’t operate like that.  I don’t work that way.  I need to have a project.  I want to run a half marathon.  Because giving myself an end goal will make me do it.  And in the way that my bizarre little brain works, as long as I have constant goals and projects on the horizon, I keep busy & productive.  I want to train to run a half marathon…because it’s a project.  It’s a source of motivation.  It’s the way I work.

Tonight I was defeated, even though the goal turned out to not be something that was going to be terribly good anyway, and it was frustrating.  I was about to join my husband in eating a completely unnecessary Oreo Klondike bar.

But alas.  Sitting in between him (playing Skyrim) and the sleeping orange cat calms me down.

New “project”: attaining a healthy balance between things I have to do, things I enjoy doing, and things I should do to stay healthy.  (Next goal: getting better at these lifelong “projects”.)

AND pertinent links:

Give up coffee?  Never!  (And the ramifications of that.)

Paula Deen’s diabetic shitshow.

 

***UPDATE***

Found a non-life-threatening alternative recipe!!  YESSSSSS!!

Petite Chocolate Chip Banana Bread Loaves!

(Also, if you post a delicious looking recipe with “skinny” in the caption, you will be the most popular person on Pinterest.)

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Filed under health, home, ranting