(Half) Marathoned my butt off!!!

So I did it!  And it's done!  So many reasons to celebrate today. 13.1 miles complete in a grand total of 2 hours, 32 minutes.  If you're interested in doing the math, that's average about an 11 1/2 minute mile, or about 5.2 miles an hour.  It was a smidge disappointing, I'd set out with the goal of finishing in less than 2 1/2 hours, and at mile 8, I was less than 90 minutes in, which would have got me to the finish line with time to kill.  Unfortunately, time rolls on, and legs, it would seem, fill up with lead.  But I made it, I never stopped running, and I believe there were a fair amount of people who finished behind me, so basically folks, I'm good!

The run was I believe what they call an out and back, meaning  we had about 4 opportunities to run up and down different country streets and past the people who were faster, and then slower than us.  All in all, there were tons of trees, loads of shade, breeze, tons of people clapping for and cheering you on, and to top it off, tiny cups of water you could drink and then just throw on the ground. Yay littering!!

Oh, and also, I'm in CRAZY amounts of pain.  On the way out of the park, I passed a girl I'd run with for a bit towards the beginning of the race and she recommended taking an ice bath to get rid of some soreness and cramping, so I decided to give that a try.  As a side note, submerging your already sore, achey, and chill-prone body, even just the lower half, into a nice tall glass of ice water makes breathing super difficult.  But in the end, if you can handle it, I believe it helps.  At least a little.  I don't have the cramping sensation running from my neck to my feet like I had all day, but my knees still feel like someone used them for a punching bag.  Or a tee, like in tee-ball.  But they're really bad at tee-ball.

In the end, they gave us all a medal, and I wanted to vomit.  Not because I was unhappy with the participation award... I kind of like the participation award, it made me feel good about myself.  I wanted to vomit because that's what your body wants to do when you spend all morning subjugating it to torture.

This is getting long, and I'm getting tired.  I must preserve my fingers, the last portions of my body which don't make me want to cry when I move them.  Pictures to come soon!

Un-nooo! I mean, yes!!

Back from the brink, I have exercised and calorie counted my way back down to normal, otherwise known as 147-148.  Whew.  No more terrifying 153 like last week.  But that's not really what's on my mind at the moment, to be honest.  Because I can't stop thinking about Saturday.

13 freakin miles, yo!!  And yes, I ran that much a few weeks ago, but no one was watching then.  Or timing.  And is it possible I've already peaked?  My old lady knees hurt, and my arches ache now every time I run.  Urg.

Yes, I'm excited.  Yes yes, I'm glad I'm doing it, and yes I'll be proud of myself for having engaged in and completed my first race since I lost my second grade Turkey Run.  It was rough.  I don't like talking about it.

So that's about where my scatter brain is these days, along with trying to solve the problem of the eternally dirty floors.  For heavens sake, I've mopped and vacuumed twice this week already, and I'd wager a bet I'm not done.  Kids are amazingly messy.  Kids should create and then win awards for messiness.  But they won't, because they're far too busy just being messy.

Have a nice, clean pain-free day!

I am my own fat sister

Fun lil' anecdote from today:

I had to run to Savemart for a few things this afternoon, not my normal shopping spot (I'm a WinCo fan through and through) but it's crazy close to our house, so in a pinch, it's where I'll go.  In fact, it's where I went quite a lot in the months after giving birth, back when my overall sanity was limited and time felt immeasurably more valuable than money.

Anyway, as I was loading up the car, I was approached by one of the bag boys, a guy in his early twenties who I chatted with a good deal back in those limited-sanity days.

After friendly hellos, as he begins to help me unload my cart, he looks up and asks, "Sooo... do you have any siblings living in this area, about your age?"  I tell him I have a brother about my age, not too surprised, I've been recognized as his sister by people who have known him before.  But he immediately tells me that, nope, that's not it.  He then, a bit more awkwardly, asks if I've recently lost, "like, a LOOOT of weight?" And I tell him that, yes, I've lost about 45 pounds.  He laughs, and says hello again, because well, now he knows who I am:  I am my own fat sister.

Odd to me that he guessed I was a sibling of my former self, as opposed to simply assuming I'd lost some weight.  Maybe the bangs (did I tell you I have bangs now?) made a difference.  Honestly though, it's really kind of wonderful to hear I'm now looking like the thinner sister to old me.  Maybe in another 20 pounds or so, we'll look more like 2nd cousins. :-)

This is why, this is why, this is why I'm hot

I'm sick.  And I'm not very good at being sick.  I know some people are absolute martyrs who refuse medication and work like, twice as hard as normal when they're practically dead.  I am, in fact, very much not one of these people.  I'm really more of the curl up in a ball and cry into my tissues sort.  Certainly not as glamorous what with the red rimmed eyes and snot trails, but it has its own perks.  Pity, for one.  Cuz remember, no one pities you when you suck it up and seem just fine.  Pity is for the pathetic. Pity is for the snot trails.

A big part of this particular illness seems to be a pretty severe case of Tara Reid Voice.  Or at least, that's how it sounds to me.  I thought I'd roll with the raspy sexiness and sing for Shane, who then requested that never ever sing, or talk again.

So that's where I am this week.  Praise team practice Wednesday, a 1/2 marathon on Saturday, and then Sunday morning singing.  And for now I continue to have a pounding headache and a rattly chain smoker voice.  We'll see how that works out.  As for now, I'm thinking bed time would not be a horrible idea.  So good night, and grand tomorrow, and in the mean time, I hope you all find YOUR super-sexy voices!

Aw dang it all, my cat is licking a photograph she found.  Gall dang pea-brained cat.

Noooo!!!

Had an awful surprise this morning when weighing in.  Looks like my personal vacation from dieting has taken its toll, and I was back up to 153.  GAAAHH!!  Shane was happy to point out that he weighed 149.  I get it, you're skinny every single day.  How flippin nice for you.

In the end, this bit of weight gain will probably be a good thing.  I've started getting comfortable with myself in the 140s, and though I hadn't nearly hit my goal weight, I've really been feeling more and more like a skinny person.  Unfortunately, I don't yet know what it is to act like a skinny person.  Because I was getting comfortable, the tiny demon in my brain sounded more and more convincing.  This time, instead of insulting me, it's getting complementary.  "You can afford to indulge a little, look what you've done!"  "You'll be just fine if you don't work out, you're a skinny person now!" "Don't you think you're about small enough?  Here. Have a cookie."

In the end, it's almost terrifying how quickly all of my bad habits can come back.  Bored eating, tired eating, eating more than necessary and indulging on junk may always be my slipping points.  That brought me to another realization.  I'll be on a diet for the rest of my life.

This doesn't mean that I'll never eat another _____ again (insert whatevertheheck, really doesn't matter).  But it does mean that I need to be on top of it forever.  I believe that every fat person has this dream of "finishing" their weight loss journey, by which I mean getting down to their goal weight and then getting to do whatever they want.  I think that's one reason why bariatric surgery is so stinkin popular, and why so many people end up putting the weight back on.  It's hard to know that there's no end in sight to monitoring calories, to restricting portions and avoiding bad foods.  It bites.  But just the same, it's worth it for health, it's worth it for the ability to do more than you'd ever thought possible, and it's worth it to dump all of my size 10, 12, and 14 jeans at a garage sale and know that I never, ever, EVER have to go back there again.

So I picked up 8 boxes of SlimFast bars today, which should get me through the next few weeks.  No more instead ofs, I'm back on 2 bars a day and getting back to my exercise.  It's a pain, it's discouraging, but I want to see the 130s,  and I want to see the 120s.  I know how to get there, so as they say, ain't nuthin to it but to do it!

Ipad? I-sad.

Thanks to those of you who heard my desperate plea and clicked my link.  I greatly appreciate the support, but unfortunately, it seems that our handi-capable friend will be winning this particular contest, and quite handily.  Yep, apparently losing makes me bitter, and bitterness enhances my tacky.

See that joy?  That pure, unadulterated happiness leaking out of every pore and exposed crevice?  I can't know that joy.

One day, though, I'll know the joy of a 10 inch touch screen.  And there will be much rejoicing.  I'm mulling over the idea of opening up a paypal account and asking people to sponsor me, like, per mile for my 1/2 marathon next weekend.  And of course, for anyone who say, doesn't believe in running or wish to support physical activity in any way, I'd also be willing to discuss being "sponsored" to do disgusting and degrading activities.  I wonder how many eaten worms it takes to get to the center of an Ipad?  Here's hoping it's only 3.

Tis the season to help a sista out

I really want an Ipad.  A lot.  To some degree this is a practical desire for a tool I think will further my business, and on another level, I just think it's awesome.  Wouldn't it be nice for me to have one?  I think so, don't you agree?

Well I hope you do, because you can make it happen.

If you click RIGHT HERE, you'll be taken to the LiveStrong facebook contest, where I am currently competing for my very own awesomely awesome-sauce Ipad II.  The contest is for the best picture of your "journey to a healthier you" or something like that, and any of you who have ever read this particular blog (yes, that means all of you) should have no trouble recognizing the picture.

Please please please vote for me.  Yes I'm begging.  Yes, it's desperate and sad and pathetic, but here are my reasons:
1) I really want an Ipad.
2) I think my picture with the cartoon landscape background and ridiculous fake running pose is not half bad.  I know there's another picture with a girl on a horse taken close up to his nose with a wide angle lens.  Please look at that picture and say awwww.  Then come back and vote for me.
3) I am on a strict pay-off-student-loan-debt budget and am not allowed to buy toys for myself
4) I think point three displays that I am both responsible and super needy.  And sad.  With big green puppy dog eyes and tear slowly glistening its way down one cheek.
5) I have a 1/2 marathon to run on the 30th, they announce the winner of this contest on the 25th.  Winning would boost by running skills.  I'm certain of it.
6) I get excited about things like the Bento database program and all of the databasing I can do.  In other words, I intend to use the crap out of this Ipad.
7) I've gotten myself very excited just thinking about it.  Now I think I might pout if I lose, and I hate to pout.
8) I really want an Ipad.

So there's my desperate cry of desperateness.  I hope you all hear it and say awww and take pity on me.  And then go vote.  Every day between RIGHT NOW and this Friday.  I also want to make you aware of the fact that you may be tempted instead to vote for, say, the girl currently in first place, who is missing an arm.  I understand that there's nothing I can say to dissuade you from this, and that this is EXACTLY the sort of contest that will probably be won by the weight-lifting girl who is short an appendage.  But for one tacky moment, let me just remind you how hard it would be to use a touch screen when you have a hook for a hand.

I'm going to acknowledge here that for saying that, I've accepted eternal damnation and the everlasting scorn of everyone who has ever been, been related to, or met once at a party, a disabled person.  I get that, but I still really want an Ipad.

So vote for me, dear devoted readers.  Super please.  I wrote you a song, couldn't you do this one, tiny little thing for me (every day between now and Friday)?  Thanks guys, in advance.  You're the awesomest.