BMI update

I planned to update my BMI monthly, but forgot to yesterday.  

When I started, at 211.5 pounds, my BMI was 38.7.

Today, at 191.5 pounds, it's 35.

I don't know exactly what that means in a scientific sense, but it's one more way for me to see numbers getting smaller, so woot woot!

gimme a break

Two interesting links today.

First, can this be a good idea?  The New York Times explore the effects of drinking coffee before a run.  True story: coffee is a diuretic.  Running has a similar effect on many.  My mind is going to unpleasant places.

Second, barf.  At 5'9 and 120 pounds (holy COW) this woman was told she had "waist wads" and "banana rolls" by a plastic surgeon.  I guess the rest of us should just commit mass suicide.

weigh-in/month 3

Down 2.5 pounds from last week, for a grand total of 20 pounds.  I like this--it's a nice round number to round out the third month of this little lifestyle change.

If you break it down, though, it was 10 pounds the first month, 6 pounds the second, and 4 pounds the third--decreasing losses.  I'm not too bothered by it because the big family reunion/week of guests in the middle of month 3 was a big factor, and I think that I can continue to lose around 6 pounds/month.  

When I think back over the last three months, I'm kind of amazed.  No fast food (unless you count Chick Fil A, which I really don't.  When I say fast food, I mean McDonald's, Wendy's, etc.), hardly any eating out that wasn't socially obligated, no ordering pizza.  Oh yeah, and I went from running zero to eight miles.  

The next milestone on my calendar is a friend's wedding on June 6, just over two months from now.  If I can lose 12 more pounds by then, I'll be happy.  (I may not be able go to the wedding--it's in Indiana--but that doesn't matter.)  I'll be training for the Broad Street Run for the next month, and then I'll need to figure out the next step in fitness.  I'm not sure if I'll continue to try to run longer distances, or if I'll start focusing on some kind of weight training.  What I do know is that I can't do what I did two Thanksgivings ago--train for a run (in that case, 4.5 miles) and then once it's over, gain twice the weight I lost.  That would not be cool.  And I won't let it happen this time.

Current weight: 191.5

Pounds to goal: 68.5

chronicle of an 8 mile run

Yesterday afternoon I set off for my long run: an 8 miler.  I had selected a route from walkjogrun.net which starts at the base of the Philadelphia Art Museum and then follows a loop next to the river, over a bridge, and back to the museum.  The loop is a trail populated with bikers and runner and dogs and G and I had been there before (when these pictures were taken) so I thought it would be a good spot.  Here's how it went:

Mile 1:  Jogging slowly past Boathouse Row, still dodging lots of pedestrians.  Still no Ipod (please mail it soon, mom!), carrying a water bottle for the first time, nervous about what's ahead but feeling all right.

Mile 2:  Can't tell if it's the lack of music or my actual pace, but I seem to be going verrry slowly.  Oh well, I've got a long way to go.  There's a crew meet taking place in the river, so the banks are covered with tents and booths and parents and canoes.  Or whatever the crew boats are called.  At one point a team is carrying one across the path and I have to jog in place for a second to let it pass.  This has never happened to me in the gym or in the city.  

Mile 3:  Still feel like I'm going at a snail's pace.  There are spraypainted markers every 1/4 mile, and it's taking me forever to get from one to the next.  G has run ahead of me, and all of a sudden I see him on the other side of the river, waving both arms in the air like a fool.  It puts a huge smile on my face and spurs me on toward the bridge.

Mile 4:  On the other side of the river now.  My legs are beginning to ache.  This is taking forever.

Mile 5:  I've slowed down even more, and I'm wondering if I'll be able to finish.  I tell myself that as long as I go even a step more than 7 miles, I'll be happy, because I will have increased my distance.  I approach a little exercise station where a couple guys are doing pullups.  The guy at the bar just keeps going--he must do 30 pullups as I approach.  Then he stops and lets his friend have a turn, and wanders over toward the path.  As I pass, silently admiring his physique and overall super-fineness, he opens his mouth and lets out an amazing Haitian/West African/French accent, saying, "Good effort, you're doing great."  "You too!" I shout back, thrilled.  I'm a happily married woman, but that gorgeous accent gets me through the next half mile.

Mile 6:  Less than three miles left.  I should be able to do this, but I don't feel like I have it in me.  I try to come up with a mantra that will keep me going, but my mind is too alert and my body too tired to let the words take over and the repetition keep me moving.  Instead, I keep changing it up so that I'm basically mumbling to myself like a crazy person.  "You can do this.  You can do this.  No one can stop you.  Only you can stop you.  You won't stop.  You will do this.  Just keep moving.  You are strong.  Do it for the haters.  Do it for the fatties." etc. etc.

Mile 7:  There's some kind of bike race on the road to my right.  Giant packs of cyclists keep whizzing by, giving me vertigo.  There aren't many people here, and whenever someone passes, I have to fight the urge to scream at them, "What does it look like I'm doing?? Walking or running??"  I can't tell anymore.  There's tons of nasty goose poop on the ground, and whenever one of the Canada geese wanders into the path, I take advantage of the lack of people by muttering, "Fuck you, goose."  A few minute later a woman runs up going the opposite direction and smiles at the geese.  Bitch.

Mile 8.  I've spotted G up ahead.  He has been sick this week, so he decided to run 5 miles and walk the rest.  Even so, he's still going to finish before I do.  I can see the museum now, and am trying to figure out how the path works its way around--front or back?  The route calls for going around the front and running up the steps Rocky-style, but if I can find a shortcut around the back, I'm going to take it.  No, I'm going to finish.  I have to finish.  I run under an underpass and curve around the front of the museum, where well-dressed women are carrying their museum store bags and hipsters are climbing the steps.  I'm red-faced, sweaty, absolutely gross, but I don't care.  I run exactly to the center of the front of the steps and stop.  I did it.

Mile 8.5  My legs are broken.  My muscles are pulverized.  I have to walk .5 miles around the museum to meet G, but now I know that I was running before because I can't walk.  I stumble in slow motion past the Rocky statue and posing tourists.  It takes superhuman effort to put one foot in front of the other.  I stop and stretch.  I wonder if I've pushed myself too far, if my body doesn't do more than 7 miles.  I'm afraid I won't be able to do the Broad Street Run.  I suddenly find a mantra.  It goes like this, "Fuck Fuck Fuck.  Fuck Fuck Fuck.  Fuck Fuck Fuck."  I try to keep moving, through parking lot, toward G.  I wonder if I'll collapse, and have to stop someone and beg them to find my husband, the guy in the white bandanna, and tell him that his wife is back there and can't move anymore.  Finally I see G, and start crying.  He makes sure I'm OK. He thinks I'm crying because I didn't run 8 miles, but when he finds out I did the whole thing, he's super encouraging.  I'm still wheezing and gasping and choking with tears dripping down my face, so he does the best thing: offers to go get the car for me.  A few minutes later, I'm seated.  

Postmortem:  3 Ibuprofen, 1 Gatorade, 1 shower, and 30 minutes of runner's trots later, I feel slightly human.  I might attempt 9 miles next week.

emo eating

No, I don't mean putting on skinny jeans and plastering my bangs to my forehead before I eat. I'm referring to emotional eating.

There seems to be consensus out there in the dieting world that most of us trying to lose weight are emotional eaters.  Had a bad day?  Scarf down some candy bars.  Fight with the hubby?  Dive into a tub of cookie dough.

I've been thinking about it, and I don't think I'm an emotional eater.  That sounds like a good thing, right?  I can control my eating independently of my emotional state.

Here's the problem, though.  If I'm not an emotional eater, but I'm still a good 70 pounds overweight, what kind of eater am I?  I've thought about it, and the best I can come up with is that I'm a food eater.  

If it's food, I'll eat it.  It doesn't matter what my mood is.  Take today, for example.  I woke up feeling refreshed.  And excited for breakfast.  Then I had a pleasantly slow morning of schoolwork and anticipating lunch.  As soon as lunch was over, I started thinking about dinner, and trying to figure out how many points I'd have leftover after dinner for my favorite part of the day: TV and snacking.

I enjoy food.  I enjoy all kinds of food.  I enjoy eating more than exercising, sleeping, or even having sex.  I believe any social gathering is enhanced by food--in fact, the two are basically synonymous in my mind.  Happy or sad, bored or busy, hungry or full, I've always got food on the brain.

So how do you cope with that?  They tell emotional eaters to replace food with other forms of comfort, but how can you replace something that is constantly on your mind no matter what else is going on?  Is this food addiction?  

I'm not necessarily feeling discouraged right now, I just realized that I always want to eat and am wondering what that means.

ETA:  Looking back over this, I think the term I was searching for is glutton.  Seriously.

the man in the mirror

My body looks better in the morning.  Does yours?  

I have this theory that 8 or so hours of being horizontal allows everything to resettle into the most attractive package possible.  After 14 hours of sitting, standing, eating, and jostling, the fat packets have shifted downward, resulting in the bulgiest bulges and clumpiest clumps of dumpiness.  

Test this theory o' mine out--before going to bed, give yourself the once over.  Note the lumps and rolls.  Then, as soon as possible after waking, give it another look.  See if things look slightly smoother to you.  And then work with that image.

goals round 2

Early on, I mentioned that I had three milestones this year that I would use to organize goals around.  The first was my cousin's wedding which was this last weekend.  After I weigh in next Monday, which will be week 12/month 3, I'll think about the weight I'd like to be at by Memorial Day.

However, I have a running bet with my mom and sister in terms of behavior, and we have just set new goals for the time between now and the Broad Street Run.  I had fun working on them, so here they are.  As always, I prefer behavior goals to weight loss goals, because while you can control weight loss to a degree, you really can't live by the scale.  So here are the goals I can control:

Exercise: 

-Follow the Broad Street Run training program.  Except in the event of sickness or injury, complete every run.  If scheduling gets in the way of a run, I'll make it up the next day.

-Continue with the hundred pushups challenge.  I'm in the middle of week 3 and my arms are aching, but I can do 17 pushups without stopping!

Food:

-Continue to write down everything I eat and make a good-faith effort to track points.

-If/When eating out, leave something on my plate.  It doesn't matter how much, but I always eat every bite.  Last week I left part of the meal on my plate and it felt so liberating!  I didn't have to savor the last bite as though it were the last thing I'd ever taste!  I just stopped when I got full and let someone else eat the rest.  

Wish me luck!