I did it again.

If I had a dollar for every diet I’ve ever done, I would have as many dollars as there are diets.  In the world. 

  • I did Weight Watchers.  As a 25 year old.  We had to eat liver.  I never tasted it once. 
  • I did a liquid diet thing when I was teacheing.  All the teachers had liquid diet cups at all the teachers’ meetings.  There were no more doughnuts.  Only plastic cups of goop, and long lines for the bathroom.
  • Weight Watchers in 1990.  I became a LifeTime Member.  I was happy.  I felt amazing.  But, I had a boyfriend who would shake my thighs even if I had a bit of ice cream.  I was looking for approval.  I couldn’t get thin enough.  And I weighed 150.
  • I knew that I had a compulsive eating problem, and joined Overeaters Anonymous.  I tried.  I really did.  But, I just couldn’t commit my food.  Plus work the steps.  I mean, come on. 
  • I got pregnant after 90 days of OA abstinence.  I had a baby.  Then.  Went back to Weight Watchers.  Again.  Lost weight.  I could eat pie while nursing and still lose weight.  It was a win!!
  • I had another baby and was as big as a house.  I mean, almost 250 pounds with a bedrest pregnancy.  After that pregnancy, I did Body for Life.  I ate only chicken breasts and apples.  I lost weight, and I started weight lifting.  I liked it.  But my food choices were limited.
  • Periodically, I would join Weight Watchers. Again and again.  And, it always worked.  But.  I got lazy.  Stopped writing things down, which is of course the key to success.
  • Jenny Craig.  Ick to the max.  I got the free trial.  Hurlific.  Plus, you can’t buy their stuff anywhere.  It’s like you have to go to the secret freezer in their center to get it.  You can’t know what’s in it, and you can’t buy it anywere except there.
  • I joined Weight Watchers this summer..ent one time, then stopped.  And since then?  I’ve gained 7 pounds.  Seriously, I have a food love.  A problem, if you will.  I eat for many reasons, and some of them not for nutrition.  But you know it’s the best program around.

Today, I went back.  I stayed for the meeting.  The meeting I hate because of the inane clapping and hooting and getting a little sticker on your book.  BUT.  I want to run another marathon, and I simply cannot run…no, I will NOT run at this weight.  So, instead of training for the next 2 months, I will be losing this weight…slowly but surely. 

And then.  I will run that 26.2.  Again.

never, never, never, never give up…

“Once you learn to quit, it becomes a habit.”~Vince Lombardi.

Apparently, I have quit running.  I don’t know when it happened, but one day, my Mizunos looked like they had a fine layer of dust on them.  I have successfully shut down what was once a real goal:  to BQ at 60.  And over the last month, I’ve seen that slip away ever so slowly.

I ran a 5K on 4th of July.  In Virginia.  On a place called Mt. Trashmore, which is exactly appropriate when you’ve hit bottom as a runner.  Trashed.  No more mojo.  No more spirit.  Don’t want to run.

Click here to see my misery.  I’m in pink.  Yeah, you read that right.  I’m at 36:xx:xx for a 5K.  No use writing a race report.  I walked at mile 2.  TWO.  ‘nuf said.

I have been really pondering who I am as a runner if I am not getting tons of support via Twitter, Facebook, email and text.  Like, what did real runners do before all of the social media influenced them to do better, go farther…?  Don’t get me wrong.  I have posted several times regarding how much I have been given especially from Twitter.  However, I quit Twitter this year, and am using Facebook in a very different way now.  No longer am I relying solely on someone’s boot in my butt to get me going.

I have been relying on me.  Only.  And it’s not going well.  I’m not a good motivator.  If I don’t want to get out of bed, I don’t.  If I want an extra slice of pie I take it.  And, you can see in the video how it’s going.  I look like a rookie, a neophyte.  A new runner.  And yet, I’ve run 4 marathons.  I’m not a good coach.  If I am tired, I stop.  If I don’t want to do my crunches, I don’t.  I buy into my own excuses, and am back to “I’ll quit tomorrow.”, the cry of the addict.

So, today after stewing about my body and my fitness, I took myself down to the gym.  Tara told me about the Nike Training App for iPhone a few months.  It’s amazing.  I love it.  And I’ve used it for only 45 minutes.  Today, I cracked it out again.

Then I remembered Danica’s 40 day challenge.  And, I decided immediately that I was going to do it.  No excuses.  So, I did the 30 minute Fighter Fit workout, then came home and enlisted my boys into the 40 day challenge as well.  We all swam 30 minutes straight.  I’m on Day 1.

Can I do this on my own?  Without cheerleaders?  Am I a good enough coach and motivator?

I’m about to find out.

Just Move.

Post Marathon Numbers:

  • 25 Days Since the Marathon
  • 5.8 Miles Run
  • 0 Yoga & Spin Classes
  • 1 race run (Pinnacles Road Mile)
  • $30 won at Pinnacles race
  • 2 races Bay 2 Breakers & NIKE Women’s calendared
  • A gazillion calories consumed
  • 5 pounds lost and gained and then some

Time to Move.

In Which I Give Up Twitter…

Twitter.  I loved you. 

You introduced me to TNT, and training for my first marathon.  I shifted from blogging and commenting to interacting in more efficient ways.  Arnold Schwarzenegger’s office responded to my tweet about losing my job in 2009, and they helped me navigate the system.  When Michael Jackson died, it was Twitter who gave me the news first. 

I had long, lonely days and nights where I could non-stop tweet about anything I want.  And, you loved me.  You embraced my non-sensical noise and let me ramble on about running, about parenting, about ex husbands and such.  During Dodger games, I tweeted from the MLB app, exhibiting getting deeper and deeper into the social Twitter web. 

You weren’t like chat rooms, or blogging, or message boards.  Oh, I had done them all.  Quantum Link, Weight Watchers message boards, Smart People (or something like that…).  I had long, lengthy opinions about everything, until you came along.

You, with your 140 character limit.  Until I found the Holy Grail of Bit.ly, Tinyurl, etc.  Until I found a way around your silly limit.  Like most things in my life, I found and broke the rule, and lived outside of even your box. 

I entered contests.  I retweeted with a vengeance.  I met runners galore.  I even met my coach on Twitter.  Some of my best friends are there…Yet, I abused you Twitter.  I had too much fun.  It was like going into a pub after a long, hot, hard day, and pounding the bar at 2am wondering how I had stayed so long. 

I likened Twitter to a coffee shop.  A big hall of table after table, where I could stop and enter a conversation with ease.  I often had direct messages with people I should not have been talking to.  If Twitter was a coffee shop, we were in our own room, and if you are somebody else’s mate, then I am out of bounds.  Toward the end of my Twitter run, I started noticing that I was adding more and more people, but interacting less and less. 

Twitter, you were the good friend who introduced me to other good friends.  I bashed Facebook in favor of you, and I defended you to the end.  I reluctantly joined Facebook because I started dating my out of town Harley Guy.  He was a Facebooker, and we stayed connected through that medium.  He also joined Twitter, and we professed our love for each other on both sites.  I started adding Twitteratti to my Facebook page.  Yet, I could not have both worlds.  I had to choose.

Most readers of this site know that I can be addicted to anything that God made more than one of.  You’ve seen me in my sobriety,  to giving up Diet Coke, trying to give up things that I abuse.  And, because I’m in a relationship with a sober man, my Twitter behavior simply had to change.  But not just for him.  For me.  For my sobriety.  I gave up Twitter to get closer to my God.  To who I really am.

No longer was it appropriate for me to DM (direct message) a man.  Men friends who had previously talked privately with me, were getting that message loud and clear:  I don’t DM with married men any longer.  No longer was it appropriate to flirt in the public timeline, or much worse, be suggestive.  One day a wife came on to the public timeline, and answered a tweet I sent to her husband, as if to say, “Okay.  That’s enough now.”  I heard it loud and clear, and started paying attention to my so-called persona. 

Don’t get me wrong Twitter.  I’m not judging your format, or other people who Tweet.  Everyone has their own set of rules.  But, because I’m looking for sobriety throughout my life, I simply had to let go.  I called a friend from New York as soon as I saw the addiction.  I went through my 900+ followers, and lo and behold, the 40 or so that I knew personally were on Facebook.  My New York gal pal stayed with me on the phone while I deactiveated my account.  Forever. 

It’s been 10 days.  It didn’t hurt in the beginning.  It doesn’t hurt now.  If you are looking for me, I’m on Facebook, posting 4x a day at most.  I’m liking and poking to death, so yeah…I’ll have to eventually look at that too, but I have a new set of standards as a woman in a relationship, in love with a man who I want to honor.

John Mayer did it.  Even Miley Cyrus gave up Twitter.  I guess it was also time for @MsV1959 to hang up her hat.

There’s A New Sheriff In Town

Okay, so I thought…well, I’ve done one marathon.  I did a great Half Marathon.  I’m sure I can ease right back into training for my next cycle.  I’ve decided.  I’m doing the LA Marathon on March 21, 2010.

I haven’t blogged this week because I am exhausted.  I didn’t think I would be so tired, but there’s a new sheriff in town, and you’ll notice him on my blogroll:  Speedy Sasquatch.  I talked with him on and off this summer when I was training my 9 year old for a 5K.  He was supportive, friendly, helpful.  I chatted on Twitter with him.  I started noticing that this guy was serious.  I sauntered on over to his blog, and was very impressed. 

I wanted to do something different for this training, not because the TNT plan didn’t work.  It did work.  But, I have realized a goal, and I cannot believe I am saying this…again…but, I want a BQ before I die… maybe in ten years or less.  And, I want to run Boston.  Now, do go all *elite* on me.  Like, how could YOU, a 50 year old Mom of 2, and basically lazy person want to do this?  It’s not a bucket list goal.  It’s something I started toying with as a serious goal.

Which means:  serious plans.

I started working with him this week.  He sent me the plan.  Monday was off.  It started Tuesday with 6×3 minute intervals.  A total of 4.84 miles in all.  I felt great.  Kim and I were laughing.  We thought we were fast.  We had fun.  Nothing hurt, nothing sore.

Then, I woke up.

Wednesday called for 4 slow miles.  Which felt like lead.  Part of my body that I didn’t even know I had were starting to ache.  We had done plyos the day before, and you have seen nothing until you’ve seen two Moms doing the Running Man down the street.  I’m sure the drivers were laughing their heads off.  We were.

The 4 miles was done in 45:40 or something, kinda slow, but felt good.

Then, the bottom dropped out.  He innocently asked if I liked coffee.  Of course.  Anyone who knows me, knows that Starbucks French Roast is a staple.  I mean, I buy it when I go out of town.  I also happened to mention that I like Diet Coke.

The hammer came down.

No more.  STOP. IT. NOW.

I can’t repeat what I said to myself or outload at my desk when I got that email.  I believe I even sent him an email begging for this ONE little thing.  The answer was no.

I’m on Day 2.  I’m hungover and cranky.  My tongue feels like cotton, and nothing tastes right.  I have 5 cases at home, and 2 I brought for my students. 

I’m willing.  I’m not happy about it, but I’m willing.  It will take some time, but I want the BQ.  I want to listen.  Meanwhile, I really really want a Diet Coke.

Ch. Things that start with Ch.




I seem to like these things.  Except they are not my friends when I’m running.  Okay, a little bit of chocolate I guess is okay.  Chips and Cheese?  Not so much.

Nike was 2 weeks ago.  I’ve been waiting since Friday for new Mizunos to show up on my doorstep.  I have 3 runs this week before Fresno Half Marathon on Sunday.

I have gained 3 pounds since Nike…thinking, well that’s normal…because I’m not running.  This thought turned into, You know what? I deserve to relax after 25 weeks of training, …which turned into running?…I can run…I ran a marathon…No need to get overly anxious here.

The new shoes finally come today.  I am so excited I throw them on my feet.  I meet Kim in between two scout meetings for a 4 miler.  I’m thinking…4? NO PROBLEM.

Wrong.  Big problem.  Not only do my toes tingle (always in new Mizunos), I feel as if I’m carrying two brawling cats in a bag in my butt!  Seriously!  3 pounds felt HARD tonight!

We start out on our first mile, then do the dreaded Stockton/Doak loop, which has crap asphalt, and even crappier lighting.  As we are coming up Acacia, by the High School, there are tons of cars, which we weave in and out of…we run across at odd angles.  Kim says to me, “Don’t they know WE RUN THIS TOWN?” 

…and we do.

But things that start with Ch.  These things have no place in my marathon dietary plans.  They are not BAD things, I just have no shut-down when it starts.

…and just like that…we are back to training.



*how we thought those days would never end*

Monday morning report, and the last full week of summer.  I start next Tuesday at the High School in the East. 

I ran 4.2 miles on Saturday, burning 575 calories. I biked 4 miles on Saturday, over the catwalk.I did an hour of Yoga & biked 2 miles to the gym today.

Why am I so fat?

I know it’s the food, food, food…but seriously, dieting is just not fun anymore.  Heh.  I try to watch it, but after years, I mean years of dieting, I pretty much know what to do.  It’s a matter of actually doing it.  I’m 10 pounds over where I’d like to be.  Since Bass Lake, I haven’t taken a bit off of the body.  As my running partner likes to say, “Well, Linda, you ARE 15 years older than me.”

Which is like throwing a gauntlet down in front of me.  Usually.

I looked at my triceps today in the Yoga mirror.  Even without my glasses, I could see that they were a bit, um, wavy.  My body parts are rapidly descending down toward the floor.  My eyes are getting worse, needing glasses all the damned time.   I kept saying to myself, “Be Here Now, Be Here Now”, in an effort to breathe in and out.  It was tough.

You’d think I’d be depressed. 

I’m not.  Bring it on.  I’m 49 49 49 49 49.  This is what’s supposed to happen to your body as you age …(not the fat part, the other).  I’m not out of shape.  I am aging.  And it’s okay.


I’m off to the pool to swim laps, or to sit in the spa and drink a Diet Coke.

Either way, I’ll be doing what I want…it’s Summer, after all.

*All Summer Long lyrics, by Kid Rock*