Morgan Gets Thin- Again

Thanks, and goodbye

2010-03-01T12:25:00.004-06:00

After much consideration, I've decided not to update this blog for the foreseeable future. While I appreciate all the (mostly) kind comments and support I've received, this blog is no longer a source of enjoyment for me. I don't want it to turn into something that I dread doing.

I thank everyone who has read this blog and found it useful in some way. I wish everyone who struggles with weight and body image the best of luck. We wear our addiction for the world to see, and it's not easy. I still believe a better, more healthy life is possible for us all. It can be done.

Love,
Morgan

Shock the Morgan

2010-02-07T16:42:00.002-06:00

Before I forget, I'd like to congratulate Sarah C. for winning last week's Progresso Giveaway. I'd also like to again thank Progresso for allowing me to review their products.

Now, on to the topic for today, which is the treadmill. I decided to take a spin on the old thing yesterday. A desire to workout is very rare for me, so the second the idea crossed my mind, I put on my running shoes and tuned the iPod to Lady GaGa. I didn't wear anything else- just the shoes and the iPod. Just kidding. Heh. I'm in a playful and sarcastic mood right now. Lucky you, huh?

"We meet again," I muttered as I walked into our spare room (aka "The Dogs' Room) and made eye contact with Mr. Dreadmill. Hopping on and plugging him in (yes, the treadmill is male, and no, I don't know why) I saw the odometer flash by. 846 miles. That's how many miles I've gone on that damn thing, and still have never left the house. I find that pretty damn awesome.

Ever since we've had it, it's had a built-in torture device which I don't think the manufacturer intended on. It shocks me. All the time. I'll be walking (or, in my thinner days, running) along, then I'll touch one of the bars and ZAPPP. It hurts, and I can see the spark. That's not normal, right? The warranty is long expired, so I doubt we'll be getting it fixed any time soon. It's not the outlet. I plugged it into a different outlet once and the same thing happened.

Yesterday I decided I could use the electricity to my advantage. Every time I thought of giving up early, I touched the bars. I'd see the little hairs on my arms stand up and I'd yell "Woop!" and keep going. Negative reinforcement SUCCESS.

Until it gets nicer outside, I'm stuck with the thing, so I may as well find a way to get along with it.

Progresso Review and Giveaway

2010-01-26T14:13:00.006-06:00

I love getting things in the mail that aren’t bills. Whenever I open the hatch of our dusty, black mailbox and see a magazine, a Netflix envelope, or a package, my heart rate actually seems to go up a little because I get so excited. So, imagine my delight when a representative of Progresso contacted me to see if I’d be interested in reviewing their soups. I actually buy their products anyway, so it was easy for me to say yes.

A couple of weeks later I arrived home to find a box full of 15 cans of Progresso soup, a Progresso mug, and a digital jump rope on my doorstep. I should note this was all sent to me at no charge by Progresso. Pretty awesome, especially considering it put a nice dent in our grocery budget for the week.

The package included traditional, light, and low-sodium versions of their soups. They’ve come out with several varieties that are only 100 calories per serving. You have to note that a can is usually 2 servings (who eats a half can of soup?) but even 200 calories for a large can seems like a safe bet, nutritionally. One of the 100-calorie varieties is chicken noodle. I really couldn’t tell the difference between the light and low-sodium versions. Both had lots of chicken, veggies and noodles, and the broth was great. The chicken and dumplings flavor is another one I buy regularly. I never met a dumpling I didn’t like. I sampled the French onion along with a grilled cheese sandwich made with part-skim mozzarella and 9-grain bread. It was an awesome, healthy combination. As a traditionalist, this is hard for me to say, but the French onion soup was a better partner for the grilled cheese than my usual choice of tomato.

Now, for the giveaway! Progresso graciously provided a prize pack for me to give away to a reader:

To enter, send an email to morgangetsthin@yahoo.com with “Progresso” as the subject line. If you’re picked as the winner, I’ll write you back to get your mailing information.

Please make sure to have your entry in by Friday, January 29th. A winner will be randomly picked using my random winner picker. That just means I’ll put all the entries in a hat and let one of our dogs fish one out. Hopefully I can figure out who the winner is before Buster or Daisy tears the entry to shreds.

Also, be sure to check out Progresso’s “Souper You Debut” contest for the chance to win a full makeover in New York City. Details can be found here: http://www.progressosoup.com/souperyou/.

Thanks to Progresso for the opportunity to do this review!

Honey and vinegar

2010-01-20T20:06:00.011-06:00

I haven't done much to benefit my fitness this week. I met all of last week's goals, but have yet to make new ones for this week. After a long walk with a friend on Sunday, I was left with blisters with their own zip codes, so it's been a little difficult to walk. This is no excuse for avoiding food-related goals, I realize. It's already Wednesday, so I'm a little late for the ballgame. Don't worry- I haven't forfeited yet; it's more like a rain delay.

The old adage "I'll start on Monday" is a common one in the world of weight loss, and I'm certainly no exception to thinking that way. Why I think it will be easier to start on a Monday is a mystery, considering Mondays are incredibly stressful for me. Every Monday, some unseen force (the promise of money, I suspect) compels me to wake up, shower, get dressed, and drive to my job, where around 300 emails from angry people await my reply. As I'm writing back to the guy who doesn't know me, yet is sure I am a butt-f***ing weasel (yes, I've actually been called that by a stranger), I'm thinking about how a cheeseburger or a cupcake would make it better. The guy who calls me a weasel is a complete stranger, and I shouldn't care what he thinks. I do, though. More than that, I care that he is mean to me. I wonder if he knows that the person he is writing to is a human being- a funny, clever, fat human being with blisters on her feet. I wonder if he knows that his rant makes me want to binge on spaghetti and meatballs until I'm about to burst. People seem to think that the anonymity of email gives them permission to treat the reader like a punching bag, but rest assured, that punching bag is a person. It might even be me. So please, for the love of cupcakes and cheeseburgers, be kind to the customer service reps you deal with.

But I digress. My point is that Monday does not a good starting point make. Thank goodness today is Wednesday, or I'd be in real trouble.

Oh, and to the dude who called me a butt-f***ing weasel: I have your name, your credit card number, and your home address. Suck on that, douchebag.

Jagged little pill

2010-01-16T09:19:00.005-06:00

Wow, what a couple of weeks it's been. Where to start...

Blogging, especially when you know people are reading, can be a risky little game. There are things I want to say, but feel I can't. There are things I hate to say, but know I should. I guess that's the nature of honesty and tact, and practicing them can be difficult at times.

Something I don't want to say but should: I've been on Zoloft, a common anti-depressant, for about 18 months now. Looking back, I can't even remember if I've mentioned that before, but it's relevant here. I got on it after the marathon. I probably should have been on it a lot sooner, but I was reluctant because one of the big side effects is weight gain. I hate to say this, but at the time, I would rather have been depressed than fat. When things really started to take a turn for the worse, I changed my thinking to "I'd rather be alive than dead," because that's how dire it was, and I decided it was time for me to experience a day that was not filled with desperation.

So, that's when I started taking my happy pill. While I can understand why people feel the need to refer to anti-depressants as "happy pills," it's really a misnomer- at least for me. They never made me happy; rather, they took my spectrum of misery-to-joy and smooshed it together, until the spectrum didn't really exist any more. Emotional extremes were pretty much gone. This was partly awesome because I hardly ever felt sad. As my friends and family will verify, I am most definitely a crier, and I hardly ever cried anymore on Zoloft. The other extreme was gone too, though. I'm sitting here now, trying to remember a moment of pure joy that I might have had during my Zoloft haze, and I can't remember one. That's kind of sad.

While I blame myself entirely for my weight gain (after all, it was me making those choices and no one else), I feel like the numbing effect of Zoloft played a part. I put on about 25 pounds in the first month. I got fatter and fatter, but hey- at least I wasn't as depressed about it.

When I decided I was ready to try to lose the weight again, I thought I should get everything in my corner that I possibly could. That's when I decided to stop taking it. Let me just say this before I go any further: if you'd on an anti-depressant, always check with your doctor if you're thinking about stopping. I wish I had. She probably would have told me to taper-down, rather than quitting cold turkey. That would have been good to know.

For a few days, I didn't really feel any different. After a week or two, I could feel my old self start to emerge a bit. I'd cry a lot more readily. Pretty much anything cold set me off- an ASPCA commercial, stubbing my toe, seeing a dead squirrel on the road- anything. Old feelings that I thought were gone came rushing back. It also feels like there's a shorted-out wire loose in my brain. Out of no where, I'll get these little "zaps." It doesn't hurt, but it's annoying. While the negative parts of Zoloft withdrawal are bothersome, I will say that the highs returned, too. I'm happier, even with all the crying and brain-buzzing, than I was before.

I'm also not quite as hungry. I've been following my weekly goals and doing pretty well. Last week my goals were to exercise 3 times and avoid beef, which I did with no problem. I even managed to run on the treadmill for a couple of minutes. This week, my goals were to keep up with the exercise, limit beef to 1 serving for the whole week, eat no fried food, and avoid alcohol. I have one more workout to go before tomorrow, but that won't be a problem. The scale is being rather obnoxious- I've only lost 2 pounds since I started, but I feel worlds better. I'm not quite so out of breath when doing everyday things, and I'm feeling more confident. This time around, I'm really trying to focus on how I feel instead of the number on the scale. In that respect, I feel like I'm getting results.

So that's that. Now, where's the Kleenex?

The middle way

2010-01-09T10:10:00.005-06:00

Last week, when I decided I was ready to start over, I also decided I had to change a lot of my thinking. The first time I lost weight, it came off very quickly. I suspect that's because I only ate what experts say is the bare minimum amount a person should eat, and I exercised pretty much every day. I don't know how I was able to do that for a whole year. Seems like I should have burned out after a week or two.

This time around, it has to be different. If I'm going to lose this weight again, I can't have my characteristic all-or-nothing attitude about it.

Before Christmas, NBC aired a "Where are they now" episode of The Biggest Loser. I DVRed it, knowing I had no immediate desire to watch all the happy, shiny, thin people who had been able to keep their weight off; but, I knew I might want to watch it someday. On Monday, I queued it up at got ready to be jealous of all the previous contestants. Many of them were right where we left them- ripped and glowing, albeit with slightly sagging skin. A few had become personal trainers, which is a career I thought about for a while. Some had put some of the pounds back on, but still were working at it. But there was one- Eric Chopin- who was just like me. He'd gained most of it back. The words he said were exactly the way I felt. While I'd never wish for someone to feel as awful as I do about my relapse, it was comforting to see how much we're related in our struggles. So many of my readers have written to me, saying they'd lost a bunch of weight and gained it back. All of us are alone- and not alone- all at the same time.

Eric was visited by his old trainer from the show, Bob Harper. Eric was so worried about Bob being disappointed or angry. I feel that fear with my family and friends all the time. I know my family worries about me, and they care about my health and not my weight, but it's still a slap in the face when they bring it up.

When Eric talked about dropping the pounds again, he talked about how hard it was the first time, and how reluctant he was to go "all out" again. Bob said something that really stuck with me, and I'm paraphrasing here: "You know how to lose weight. You know how to put weight on. What you don't know is how to find a balance."

I'm trying to keep that in mind as I climb this mountain again- slowly. My system right now is to make 2 small changes a week, see how that goes, and then move on. This week, my goals were to exercise 3 times, and not eat any beef. I have one more workout to complete before Sunday, but I'm on track. Let me tell you- I had forgotten how great it feels to be completely sore and nearly immobile the day after a weights workout.

So, that's going to be my system for a while. I'm not worrying about calories, mileage, or even having seconds at dinner (for now). Just 2 things a week. That's doable, right?

The way things are

2010-01-06T16:06:00.006-06:00

2009 wasn't the best year. My lack of posts may lead some to believe I was very busy- too involved with my exciting whirlwind of a life to blog. They couldn't be more wrong.

After last year's Kansas City Marathon, one of the best days of my life, things took a turn. I was sick of thinking about every little thing I ate, bored with running, and tired. I was so very tired. At the time, I was just allowing myself a little break from my fit existence. The break turned into 14 months of a total downward spiral. I've gained every bit of the weight back, and then some. Here's my new "before" picture, which was taken about an hour ago. By the way, that's my sarcastic "fuck you" smile. I haven't genuinely smiled for a photo in months.

On my right ring finger, there's a red indentation that represents where my grandmother's wedding ring used to reside. She gave it to me as a birthday gift in April. Every time I'd visit her, she'd want to hold my hand and look at it. I told her I'd never take it off, and that always made her smile. A few days ago, I had to break that promise. I could feel it getting tighter and tighter as my fingers got fatter, and I was worried that if I didn't remove it soon, I'd have to get the ring cut off. Four days ago, as I pried it off with the help of lots of soap, I cried. Grammy died in July. She's on my mind constantly. Mostly I wonder what her last moments were like, and if she was afraid. I saw her the night before, but I still feel a lot of guilt for not being there during her final moments. Since the nursing home didn't call me to let me know she was rapidly declining, I was at home on the couch, obliviously eating Taco Bell. I will never, ever forget that I was eating fast food while my grandmother was dying. It sickens me to think it. I miss her so much. She was the most generous person I've ever known.

My life has become one of avoidance. I don't make eye contact or engage people in conversation unless social nicety requires it. I rarely go out with my friends, especially the ones who only knew me as a thin person. A few weeks ago, I met my old running gang for brunch. I don't really know what possessed me to say yes, because it was the very last thing I wanted to do. Of course I wanted to see them and catch up with their lives. I missed all the long, sometimes deep, sometimes silly conversations we'd have on our Saturday morning runs. But I didn't want them looking at me. I didn't want them to see what I've let myself become.

With the holidays came the extended family, most of whom hadn't seen me in a year or more. I almost called in sick to Christmas. My relatives are nice people, and I knew they'd never say "Wow, you sure got fat again," but I didn't care. I knew they'd probably think it. I wound up going to Christmas, but I started pounding beers as soon as possible. Each drink helped me to put away the shame, so I could talk to my family.

God, what a mess.

I've been waiting to be ready to start it all over again. I ponder what I did wrong before, and what I did right. I try to get inspired, to remember what got me fired up in 2007 when this all started. Back then, it was the inability to put my shoes on without getting winded, the headaches, and having a revolving credit line at Lane Bryant. Well, that's all back. Okay, maybe not the line of credit at Lane Bryant, but I've shopped there recently.

So there it is. I weigh 286 pounds, and as I type this, I'm wearing the very same fat pants I held up so triumphantly in this picture:

Once again, I'm back to square one. I've been down both the thin road and the fat road. Even though the thin road may be more difficult to travel on, the air is more clear and its scenery is certainly more pleasant. The clothes fit and the physical limitations are virtually gone. I can breathe when I'm on the thin road.

Forgive the cheesy metaphor, but it's the way things are. So, here we go again.

McHorrifying

2009-09-23T11:59:00.007-05:00

I was just on MSN.com and came across this great site: Picture Show: Visions of Fast Food

As we all know, I'm a fast food junkie. I love Big Macs. When I saw the picture above, of what I can only assume is my beloved "2-all-beef-patties-special-sauce-lettuce-cheese-pickles-onions-on-a-sesame-seed-bun," I didn't love it so much. I had a similar feeling after I saw Supersize Me the first time. After watching Morgan Spurlock regurgitate a double quarter pounder all over a McDonald's parking lot, I didn't eat McD's (or any other fast food) for about a month.

Then I really wanted a Big Mac, so I started again.

And now, for your moment of Zen:

False starts

2009-09-18T12:17:00.002-05:00

After writing yesterday's post, I was almost giddy with excitement about getting back on the wagon. I made an awesome, healthy salad. I took a 2-mile walk after work. Things were going well. Then of course, I pulled my usual derailing move of driving through the golden arches before bedtime. Ugh.

I woke up feeling bloated and regretful- two words that describe me pretty well these days. I keep trying to remember how I got started the first time around. It wasn't easy, and I had plenty of failures before I got on a successful roll. It makes me wonder how I ever managed to get fit in the first place.

"I'll start tomorrow" has been my motto for almost a year now. Interesting how tomorrow never comes, isn't it?

What's up, bitches?

2009-09-17T12:21:00.004-05:00

I decided to finally succumb to Facebook mania this week. Yeah, I know I'm really late, but whatever. Anyway, I searched and searched for the right profile picture. Every single one I could find was from my "Morgan Gets Thin" days. I picked one of the better ones and begrudgingly uploaded it.

I say "begrudgingly" because, well... that's not really me anymore. See that chin, and that jawline? Not there at the moment. I'm back to the old days of avoiding cameras and mirrors. I'm sick of being fat, but apparently not sick enough to change (again). I think part of that is knowing how hard I had to work to slim down the first time. The idea of doing all that again makes me want to cry.

Still, I sometimes see a picture like this one, and it makes me nostalgic for last year's "5K May." It makes me miss my running friends, who I never see anymore (totally my fault). I miss feeling like I've accomplished things.

Maybe I'll never run again, much less run another marathon. But I have to do something. I'm not happy in this body. The weird thing is, I wasn't happy with my previous body either. I still managed to focus on the pudge in my belly and not the fact that I'd lost over 100 lbs.

So, what to do? I guess I'll start by grabbing a salad for lunch.

Bad dreams

2009-05-06T13:22:00.003-05:00

About a year ago, I wrote a post about a nightmare I'd had:

Last night I had a dream- a nightmare, really- that I was attending a family gathering. Everyone kept staring at me with a look of pity in their eyes. I'd see them whispering, then they'd abruptly stop when I'd get within earshot. Was my zipper down? Did I have bird shit on my forehead? Why were they looking at me like that?! I frantically searched for a mirror, and when I found one, I saw my former, fat self looking back at me. Every pound I'd worked so hard to get rid of was back- strapped to my belly in three massive rolls. My fingers looked like sausages, and the jawline that I'd once admired was obscured once again.

Now, a year later, that nightmare has become a reality. I've gained back about 75% of the weight I lost. I've spent the last few months eating, drinking, sitting in a sedentary stupor, and feeling pretty damn awful about it. I'm an addict in the truest sense of the word. My habits and behaviors bring me a constant cycle of pleasure, quickly followed shame, pain, and hopelessness. Desperate to change, but seemingly powerless to do so.

I've tried so damn hard to just accept myself- fat or thin. I thought becoming thin and athletic would magically get me what I needed, but that didn't happen. In fact, my weight loss gnarled my self-esteem until it was virtually gone. Even as a size 10, I still thought I was fat.

Now, as I sit here in my size 20 jeans and look at pictures from just a year ago, I wonder what the fuck happened. Good question. I think part of it is that I was totally exhausted in all possible ways. The physicality of marathon training put me through some stuff I don't think my body was ready for. Mentally, I was a total wreck. After 18 months of scrutinizing the caloric values of a million different foods, my brain didn't know how to think of much else. I just got so sick of thinking about it all the time. I stopped seeing my psychologist because I was sick of talking about it all the time. I stopped writing this blog because I was sick of writing about it all the time. I just wanted it to go away.

I'm not quite sure what to do now. Part of me wants to just let this blog die and be more private with my struggle. The support I received as a result of blogging was immense, but I also felt some pressure. My time away has been, if anything, a relief. But, I'd get comments here and there... "What happened?" "We miss you!" "Hope you're doing okay." It made me wonder if I'd made a mistake in cutting ties.

I'm still very confused. I spend every day trying to decide which life I want to have. Do I want the life where I can eat whatever I want but feel sick and tired most of the time? Or, do I want to deprive myself and feel healthy? Some people can have both, but I don't think I'm one of them. I'm a food junkie. I'm a hedonist. It's all or nothing.

For today, I accomplished a 20 minute walk and stocked the kitchen with healthy food. That will have to be enough, just for now.

An interview with PastaQueen

2009-01-20T06:41:00.003-06:00

Fellow weight-loss-blogger and author Jennette Fulda, aka PastaQueen, is doing a virtual tour to promote her book, Half Assed: A Weight Loss Memoir. I was flattered when I was contacted by her publicist to take part.

So, while I sit here and wallow in self-pity because I have the stomach flu from hell, here is a Q&A session with Jennette.

Q: You recently admitted to yourself (and to everyone who reads your blog) that you are a compulsive overeater. Why do you think it took you so long to realize it, and how have things changed since then?

A: I was lucky not to encounter any extremely stressful events during my initial weight loss. Without any huge triggers, it appeared that my eating was under control. I had never attempted a serious healthy eating and fitness plan before, so I assumed my weight problem was caused by lack of knowledge.

This past year I've dealt with the stress of starting a new job, promoting a book and dealing with a chronic headache. I began to realize that these stressors made me want to eat and that this urge to eat was not necessarily felt by other people around me who could leave meals half-finished on their plates. Eventually I realized that my brain is wired a little differently than other people's and that I like to use food as a drug when my life is out of control.

I'm using several strategies to manage my overeating. I don't bring trigger foods into my house. I know that if I buy a box of granola bars, I will probably eat the whole box, so I try to buy single servings. When I cook meals, I try to make only as much as I want to eat so I don't have an opportunity to binge. These techniques help, but it's still a struggle.

Q: Training for and running my marathon was one of the most challenging things I've ever done. What were you favorite and least favorite things about your half marathon experience?

A: My favorite part was eating a Cinnamon Crunch Bagel and knowing I'd already burned off the calories I was consuming. This might be part of the reason I gained a couple pounds while training instead of losing weight :) I also enjoyed pushing past my limits. I would never have run in ice and snow and negative degree temperatures, but I did those things running with a training group. I was surprised I was able to do it, but I don't have any desire to do that again:)

I didn't enjoy gaining weight when I was exercising so much. I also resented the amount of time it took to train, particularly near the end when I had to complete several 45-minute runs a week. Getting the runner's trots after my training 10K run wasn't pleasant either.

Q: You've been dealing with chronic headache pain for several months now. How has it affected your commitment to a healthy lifestyle? Do you think there is hope to lose weight for overweight people living with chronic pain?

A: It's harder to get up the motivation to exercise when I'm in pain all the time. Remember the last time you had a headache? Did you feel like doing anything, let alone run or bike or jazzercise? I feel like that all the time. It also makes me want to eat more because enjoying a pint of ice cream or a box of chocolates genuinely makes me feel better, if only briefly. My medications don't seem to do anything, but the Steak N' Shake milkshake never lets me down.

I went through a pretty bad time last September and October, but I seem to be pulling out of it lately *crosses fingers* I've found that if I eat well 80% of the time and moderately exercise I can maintain my weight without gaining. Now I have about 25 pounds I'd like to lose again.

I think there is hope for overweight people with chronic pain to live a healthy life and perhaps lose weight, but it depends on what is causing their pain. If you have a bad back or arthritis it is more difficult to find an activity you can do, but there are options like water aerobics (as lame as that might sound). My doctors have also told me that regular exercise helps moderate chronic pain. People who get 30 minutes of exercise 4-5 times a week will be in better health and feel slightly less pain than those who don't.

Q: In your book, Half Assed: A Weight Loss Memoir, you don't specifically say what type of diet/exercise plan you used to lose weight. Why did you feel the need to keep that out of the book?

A: I believe that any healthy, sane diet that enables you to eat less calories than you burn will result in weight loss. I did not want people to think they had to follow the exact same diet I did to see results. Different plans work for different people. I also did not want to appear to be an evangelist or spokesperson for one specific diet. Nor did I want to be answering questions about the diet plan for the rest of my life. It's easy to find out what diet I was on my scanning my blog, so if you really want to know you can find out.

Q: Do you find that maintaining your weight loss is easier or harder than losing the weight in the first place? Why do you feel that way?

A: Maintenance is definitely harder than losing weight. I still have to do all the things I did when I was losing weight, but I do not get the positive reinforcement of seeing a lower number on the scale each week. Instead, I get to see the same number, or sometimes I see a small gain. I am also bombarded by temptations from other people and advertising to eat poorly. It is difficult to say no 20 times a day for the rest of your life.

It's also easy to get bored with a routine. If I eat the same meal too many times, I tend not to want to eat it again. If I do the exact same running routine 4 days a week, I get sick of it. I see my relationship with my body like any relationship. There was an initial phase of joyful infatuation that was lots of fun. Now I'm a couple years in at a more comfortable phase where I have to work harder to keep things interesting.

Q: Suppose a pill existed that would melt away excess pounds overnight. It has been tested in 50-year studies by the FDA, and has been determined to be perfectly safe. It has no side effects whatsoever. Would you take it? Why or why not?

A: Yeah, I would :) I love eating ice cream, cookies, and chocolate. If I could do that and not get fat, I'd eat a lot more of them. That said, I would also eat healthy foods out of concern for my overall health and because eating chocolate all the time gets old (believe it or not). I find that once I've had a milkshake or some cookies, I don't necessarily want to eat them again for a day or two. It's important to have variety in my diet like in my fitness routine. Also, just because a pill could stop me from gaining weight, it wouldn't keep me from building up plaque in my arteries or developing diabetes, so healthy eating could not be ignored completely.

Wow, thanks for the great insights, Jennette.

Now, if you haven't already, go buy her book! I got my copy the day it came out, and I can honestly say it's a great read. To keep following Jennette on her virtual tour, be sure to tune in tomorrow at This Mama Cooks!

Castaway

2009-01-14T07:59:00.003-06:00

When Angie and I were in the depths of our holiday binge-fest recently, she made the following comment while we were driving home from a buffet: "I am so sick of food."

I was too. Strange, how the thing I'm most addicted to can cause such a dichotomy of emotions within me. The more unhealthy garbage I ate, the less I enjoyed it. Each Big Mac tasted progressively less yummy than the last, yet I couldn't seem to stop myself. At that point, I believe it was pure addiction, and not true desire, that was driving me.

I often find myself wishing I could be stranded on a deserted island. Hopefully, I'd have ice skates and a volleyball like Tom Hanks did...but there's one thing I wouldn't have, and that's the ability to make food choices. Coconuts? Crab? Raw fish? Bring it on. But please, oh please, don't let there be Golden Arches on my island.

America is a country with a lot of freedom. Sure- there's life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness to contend with. But, we also have the freedom to get really fat, to get diabetes and heart disease, and to let our addictions to various things control our lives. I'm grateful for all these freedoms- even the ones that lead to negative consequences. I would hate to take the Right to Drive-Thru away from anyone. But I sometimes wish I could take it away from myself.

Whey to go

2009-01-12T20:35:00.002-06:00

I'm feeling pretty damn proud of myself today.

I've managed to not only avoid unhealthy foods, but I've actually enjoyed the nutritious things I ate today. I started the day with a huge smoothie with skim milk, fat free vanilla yogurt, frozen strawberries, and whey protein. Seems like I'm one of the last people to jump on the whey wagon, but I'm glad I finally did.

My big accomplishment for the day was that I ran 3 miles tonight. I think the last time I did that was about 2 months ago. Then, I tried out the new Biggest Loser Yoga DVD, which was tough but very enjoyable. (The plank pose can kiss my ass, however.)

In other news, my training for the Oklahoma City Marathon officially began today. Now that I know I can actually run, I feel a little more confident about getting back in the game. Heh.

Wake up calls and new beginnings

2009-01-06T19:33:00.002-06:00

Yeah, so it's been a while.

The past several weeks have been filled with food, drink, gluttony, and total ambivalence. I can't even tell you how many times I went through the drive through, how many beers I drank, and how many hours I sat on the couch. I also can't tell you how many pounds I've gained, because I've avoided the scale just as much as I've avoided the treadmill. I do know, however, that I'm currently wearing size 16 pants.

The scariest part is that I didn't really care until a couple days ago.

Angie and I were at a local restaurant for lunch. As we sat in our booth, I perused the menu and wondered whether to have a cheeseburger and fries or a salad. I opted for the salad. Granted, it had pieces of fried chicken, bacon, and shredded cheese. But hey- roughage and all, right?

That's when I started to feel strange. I was sweating bullets and I couldn't breathe. Everything faded to white and I couldn't hear anything. Then I passed out, right there in the booth. Angie later told me I was shaking while I was unconscious. When I woke up a few seconds later, all I wanted to do was get outside, into the cool winter air. Stupidly, I got on my feet and made my way toward the door. Almost made it, too. Right as I was about to reach the door, I collapsed near a booth of ladies. I awoke and a woman was patting my back and repeating "Are you okay, honey?"

"Oh, I wound up on the floor? How embarrassing," I replied in my stupor. I kept apologizing as Angie and the hostess helped me outside and handed me a glass of ice water. I took off all my extra layers and my shoes and took in the water like I hadn't had any in months.

I don't know exactly why I fainted twice in the middle of a Houlihan's, but I know that I have to fucking get real. Right now.

Yesterday, I got reacquainted with that lovely wagon that I've avoided for so long. It was tough. Today was worse, because my body realized I wasn't giving it all the sugar it was used to. It rebelled by giving me a monster headache and a bitchy attitude. I don't care, though. I don't want to die.

When a new season of The Biggest Loser started tonight, I knew it was a sign from the diet and exercise gods that I needed to test my fitness. I put on my workout clothes and noticed right away how much my body has really changed. The treadmill looked at me with surprise as I approached. "Oh, you're back, huh? You think you can just walk all over me after not talking to me for months?" If treadmills could talk, that's what mine would have said tonight. Nevertheless, I got on and was happily surprised to learn I can still run a mile.

So here I am. I'm still planning on rejoining my running group later this month and training for the Oklahoma City Marathon in April.

Here we go. In the words of the great PastaQueen: "Oh really, let's just fucking do this already!"

Woot woot!

Recommitment

2008-12-15T08:08:00.004-06:00

I'm sorry I've been one of those bad bloggers lately. The truth is, I've felt a total lack of inspiration. Every time I sit down to write a post, I've stared at the screen with a blank brain. It's frustrating.

As for the fight to stay healthy and fit, I'm not giving up. I've fallen off the wagon more times than I can count lately. And, since the marathon, my exercise has been sporadic at best. I keep looking back to the first weeks and months of my weight loss and wondering how the hell I found the motivation.

It's a tough time of year to be healthy. The wind chills are dropping, while the amount of sweet treats are rising everywhere. I can't seem to escape the gluttony and hedonism that is so prevalent during the holiday season.

When I saw Oprah's latest cover, I felt really, really bad for her. Here's a woman who is worth more money than I can even comprehend. Millions of people worship her and think she should run for president. She can have anything she wants...almost. The fact that, yet again, she wasn't able to maintain her weight loss proved that money can't buy everything. Even with my paycheck-to-paycheck lifestyle, I have something in common with Oprah Winfrey. So many of us do.

I'm still not giving up. As of this moment, I am recommitting myself to a healthy lifestyle. I ran a freaking marathon. I can do this.

New goals

2008-12-08T16:15:00.003-06:00

Let me get this off my chest before I go any further... I've been off the wagon for a while now.

I've been exercising very sporadically, and my diet has been... less than healthy. I'm sure I've gained more weight back, but I'm not freaking out. Thanks to my therapy sessions, I've started to learn that my worth doesn't depend on how much I weigh, or what size I am.

With that said, I'm not giving up. I still want to get back on the horse, but it's not about weight anymore. Now it's about health. Before, my weight loss was all about how I looked. I never appreciated all the positive changes that were taking place inside. My cholesterol was down, my glucose levels were great, and I felt wonderful. With every breath, I could feel the oxygen moving through my body.

I'll be back with my running group in mid-January, at which time I'll begin training for the Oklahoma City Marathon. Yup, that's right. I'm going to do another marathon. I think it will really help me to have a big goal like that on the horizon.

It's about health, not weight!

Still here

2008-12-02T20:09:00.002-06:00

I hope everyone had a good Thanksgiving. Apart from eating too much, I had a very pleasant few days off work.

A real post will come soon, but for now I wanted to let you know I'm alive.

Gobbler Grind Half Marathon

2008-11-24T20:47:00.003-06:00

Yesterday I ran the Gobbler Grind half marathon. The weather forecast was calling for another chilly morning, so I put on pretty much the same outfit I wore for the previous weekend's race.

Angie and I drove out to the race site and met with Pritha, Ellen, Mandy, and Michelle. We were all looking forward to a light, easy run. I was going to treat it as a fun run, not worrying about setting any personal records.

We started off at a very slow pace to get warmed up. After that, we all went at our own speed. Pritha, who always has a secret goal in mind, cruised ahead. Mandy and I settled into a comfortable pace and spent the entire race together. Ellen and Michelle were close behind us. It was a really pleasant course; most of it was spent on park trails.

After about 8 or 9 miles, we weren't talking much. When the chatter stops, this usually means that we want it to be over. Mandy and I crossed the finish line together, with a time of 2 hours and 30 minutes. We met up with Angie and Pritha (who set a PR), and watched Ellen and Michelle cross the finish line.

I was standing around the finish area, when I was approached by a guy I'd never met before. His name was Jared, and he said he was a fan of the blog and wanted to introduce himself. This was the first time I'd ever been "recognized" because of my blog, and I must admit it felt absolutely wonderful.

Now I just need the paparazzi to follow me around. And a posse. You can't be a celebrity without a posse.

Working out at work

2008-11-18T15:45:00.002-06:00

Our offices just moved to a new location, and we now have a gym. Normally, I go home at lunch to let the dog out, but today I didn't have to. So, I decided to try out the gym.

Back in 7th-grade gym class was the first time I remember having to change clothes in public. I hated it, probably because I felt fat and inadequate compared to the other girls. After a few days of humiliation, I opted to change in a bathroom stall for the foreseeable future.

Not much has changed. Today I entered the locker room with my workout clothes. I eyeballed the area; I was alone. Still, I gravitated toward a stall and changed in there. I'm not sure why, exactly. I'm not exactly pleased with my physique, but I'm much more confident than I was at age 13. Perhaps I just didn't want to cross that boundary of letting my co-workers see me naked (or me seeing them naked, for that matter).

Anyway, I jumped on a treadmill and did a 5 mile jog. At one point, I looked out the window and a window washer dude was swaying in the breeze, sitting in his little harness. He smoked a cigarette as he wiped each window down. I wondered where he'd flick the butt when he was done.

Doing my workout in a different setting was a pleasant change. It reminded me that it's good to switch things up when I get bored. It also left me with a Zen-like calm which has carried over into the rest of my work day.

Now, if I can just work up the courage to change clothes in the locker room...

Pilgrim Pacer 10K

2008-11-16T07:43:00.003-06:00

When it comes to cold weather running, I'm a total wimp. I'd rather run in 90 degree heat than freezing temperatures any day. So, it came as no surprise that I was feeling less than thrilled about participating in this race. When I woke up Saturday, the temperature was 31 degrees. As Angie and I drove to the race site, a very light snow was falling.

Despite the weather, I was feeling good. The preceding days had been a real success in terms of my eating, and I was down 6 lbs. on the scale from my weigh-in on November 1st. I was also meeting up with Mandy and Pritha for the race, and I'm always happy to run with friends.

We stood around for a few minutes, then it was time to run. I wanted to finish in under an hour, so I tried to keep a fairly aggressive pace (at least for me) from the very start. However, it took very little time before I got really tired. I made the stupid mistake of not eating anything prior to the race. Normally I'd at least have a banana or a slice of bread. I also realized that it had been months since I'd tried to run with speed in mind. During marathon training, I had built up my endurance, but lost quite a bit of speed.

Still, I tried my best to keep up a decent pace. The three of us were together for about the first mile, then Pritha surged ahead. It was difficult for me to keep up much of a conversation, but I tried to chat with Mandy as much as possible. Having a buddy really does make the time go by.

Once we warmed up, the cold was totally unnoticeable. It was really pleasant, actually. The course was very pretty, winding its way through a local nature park. At some point, my empty stomach became a problem and I started to feel pretty weak. I had to stop and walk quite a bit during the last mile. My finish time was somewhere around 1:06, which is less than stellar, but I'll take it. The run was more about getting a workout in and hanging out with my friends.

Rather than the usual bananas and orange segments, they served hot apple cobbler and hot chocolate after this race. I shared mine with Angie while we all stayed warm in the car.

I treated myself with a spaghetti dinner and a slice chocolate cake last night. While it felt strange breaking my abstinence, I didn't feel guilty, nor did it lead to a binge. I'm back to my routine today and still feeling strong and confident. For the first time in a while, I have a sense of hope that I won't always think about food every minute of every day.

Small victories

2008-11-13T08:41:00.002-06:00

Last night was rough. I left my grandmother's nursing home feeling depressed and hungry...not a good combination. Upon arriving home, I ate my planned dinner, but still wanted more. Of course, I wasn't truly hungry, but my emotional state dictated that I stuff my face with all the foods I'd been avoiding the past 7 days.

I barely even tried to fight it. I just wanted to give in and let myself go. I put on my best puppy dog face and looked at Angie. She knows that look, but I've told her lately to ignore it. No matter what I say or do, don't get me fast food. I could tell she was torn. She wanted to make me happy, but would it really make me happy to eat that stuff? Certainly not. She also wanted to get food for herself, which probably made it twice as hard to resist my pleadings.

After much pressure, she broke down and went to change clothes before hopping in the car and driving to McDonald's. As she walked into the other room, I realized how selfish and sabotaging I was being. I was dragging her into my downward spiral, and it was supremely unfair. I called to her. She came back into the living room and looked at me. I just shook my head. No, don't go.

She sat down on the couch with me and I cried. My tears were the result of all the exhaustion and frustration involved with resisting the urge to binge. Most normal eaters probably don't realize how hard it is to bring yourself back from the brink like that. I can count the times I've been able to do that on one hand. More than will power, it takes energy. By the time I knew I wasn't going to binge after all, I was totally spent. I took a long bath, hoping to get started on a new book. But, I just sat in the tub, staring into space. I couldn't bring myself to force my eyes to move across the page.

I'm proud of myself for eventually resisting. But, I'm still very sorry for all the misery I'm sure I caused Angie. It felt as though I was asking her to go score me drugs or something. It felt very wrong. Screwing up my "sobriety" is one thing; having her assist me is another.

Today marks one week of abstaining from my trigger foods. I'll admit I haven't made totally healthy choices. I ate too much for dinner on Tuesday night, but it wasn't a binge. I also skipped my workouts the past two days. However, I feel that my eating is normalizing and I'm on the right track.

The Fat Matrix has you

2008-11-10T20:25:00.003-06:00

I remember the day I told a friend of mine that a glazed donut has around 220 calories. Her face went from smiling to a look of startled disbelief. It shattered her world, the poor thing.

I also remember a time when I, myself, was blissfully ignorant about the foods I was eating. A pint of ice cream is so small...it can't be more than 500 calories. Fried chicken has lots of protein, so it's good for my muscles. Brie has calcium.

Give me a break.

On May 1, 2007, I was reborn into a new world. In the movie The Matrix, Neo is ripped from his lifelong sleep into what seems like hell. The things he once loved to do, eat, see, and smell were all gone. That's kind of how I felt when I started losing weight. That's when I learned a pint of Ben & Jerry's would set me back about 1500 calories. Fried chicken, to my dismay, was really bad for you. Brie was, in fact, glorified butter with a moldy rind. It was a sad, sad time.

As I phased out those old favorites, however, I learned to appreciate and even like some foods I once shunned. Egg substitute had once been a scary, viscous liquid that came in a carton. Now I eat it almost daily. Sugar free fudge pops may not be as numbing as a pint of Haagen Daaz, but they're surprisingly creamy and delicious. Apparently, chicken can be cooked on a device called a grill, rather than a vat of bubbling lard. And, it even tastes good. Who knew?

Sometimes I wish I could be ignorant again. I may have been obese, but I didn't worry about calories, fat grams, and trans fats. I just ate. Of course, things got grossly out of hand, and I, like Neo, was reborn. There's no going back now. I may have gained some weight back recently, but this time I know exactly what I'm doing to myself. That's why I knew my behavior had to stop. I'm 5 days clean now, and feeling better every day.

Now I just have to learn how to stop time and bend reality.

Knock on wood

2008-11-09T11:52:00.003-06:00

Since my last post, things have been going remarkably well. I think I hit a new bottom that day, and there wasn't anywhere to go but up.

This is my 4th day sober. By sober, of course, I mean "binge free." I already feel much better. My attitude has improved, I feel more slender, and my pants are slightly looser. I'm not going to step on the scale, though, for fear of seeing a number I don't like and getting so depressed that I throw myself into a McDonald's drive-through again.

I've decided, at least for now, to totally abstain from my trigger foods. No cookies, ice cream, fast food... not one bite. Moderation is great for those people who can actually moderate. If I had that ability, I wouldn't have gotten to 264 lbs. in the first place. Come to think of it, as I was losing the weight, I never ate my trigger foods. This would account for part of my success. I can't say I'll never have a cookie again, but for now I'm staying away from them (and everything else that gives me trouble).

Last night, Angie and I attended a banquet for my running group. It was pot-luck, so there was a lot of unhealthy food. Even runners know how to throw down with salt, fat, and sugar. One dude walked in carrying a pizza, and fried chicken even made an appearance. My strategy was to indulge myself, but to have one plate, and also stay away from the desserts. And, by "one plate," that did NOT mean I was allowed to make a mountain of food that would cause the paper plate to buckle under its immense weight. It had to be a reasonable amount. I got some lean barbecue meat, some cheesy baked pasta stuff, some curried fish (which was amazing and I hope to post the recipe soon), and a few other odds and ends. When I saw the desserts, I just kept walking.

The conversation was so good at the table that it took me a long time to eat. Normally, I eat really fast. When I'm talking, it takes longer. It was nice to actually taste my food for once. After dinner, the coach showed some video clips, presented awards, and recognized those of us who finished our first marathons. It was a wonderful way to bring closure to the experience, and also open a different chapter.

Oscar the Grouch

2008-11-06T08:09:00.002-06:00

Eating out of the trash can. The only people I know who do this are either poor, compulsive eaters, or Oscar the Grouch. Have you done it?

Last night, things were going really well. I didn't want to cook dinner, so we opted for Subway. Looking back on my choices for the day, I was pretty proud of myself. I'd managed to stay away from a delicious praline pumpkin dessert that was brought into work.

A few minutes after dinner, that familiar urge beckoned me to the nearest convenience store. I played along, and wound up with a 4 pack of ice cream drumsticks, a package of Milano cookies, and some pretzels. Oh, and 100-calorie pack popcorn. WTF? Of course, the drumsticks were gone by the end of the night, and I had several of the cookies.

Needless to say, I'm feeling pretty low this morning. My problem is binge eating after dinner. That's usually the only time of day I do it.

Anyway, when I walked into the kitchen this morning, I saw the package of remaining Milanos staring back at me. At that time of day, the idea of eating one disgusted me, but I knew if I kept them around, they'd be a problem tonight. I started to put them in the trash can, but stopped myself. I am one of the lucky people who can't say I've ever dug anything out of the trash and eaten it. I don't want to start now. So, I put them down the sink and ran the garbage disposal. As I listened to the cookies disintegrate into wet, mealy pieces, I wondered why I continue to sabotage myself. I'm still working on a reason. Let me know if you have any ideas.

Until next time... don't be like Oscar. Stay out of the garbage.

Root canal

2008-11-03T15:40:00.003-06:00

I've been in lots of pain for the last 3 days. I got into the dentist this morning and was told I'd need a root canal. It's scheduled for tomorrow at 11:30 a.m.

I've been lucky enough to have fairly good dental health throughout my 30 years. I only have 1 filling. Now, the prospect of having some dude put a needle in my gums and drill a hole in my tooth fills me fear and anxiety. Ugh.

On the upside, perhaps the painkillers they'll give me will make me forget about food.

Bacon tastes good...

2008-10-31T16:45:00.003-05:00

... mayonnaise tastes good.

Perhaps you were expecting me to pull a John Travolta and say "Bacon tastes good. Pork chops taste good." Nope, sorry. I had to tweak that classic line from Pulp Fiction just a little, because there was no better way to introduce you to this lovely product:

When I first saw this on my friend Michael's blog, I thought it was a joke. Nope, it's real. Baconnaise. Can you believe that? I thought I'd seen it all with the fountain of ranch dressing.

I don't know what's worse: the fact that there is such a product, or the fact that I kind of want to try it.

*Morgan hangs her head in shame.*

Have a happy Halloween! I'm going as a jar of Baconnaise.

Don't Get Any Bigger

2008-10-29T08:16:00.004-05:00

I've never had a one night stand, but the thoughts and feelings I had this morning were eerily similar to what I would think the "morning after" guilt feels like. Literally the moment I woke up, just two words came to my head. Binge. Guilt.

Although I've managed to stay away from fast food since Sunday (quite a big deal for me lately), that doesn't mean I'm not susceptible to binges. Last night, things were going really well. It was my second day on the wagon, and I was feeling great. Then, for some stupid reason, I thought I should have a tiny snack before bed. Looking back, I don't even remember what that first morsel was, but it was the catalyst for what came next. Lots of toast with Laughing Cow cheese. Fiber One toaster pastries. Low fat string cheese. All healthy things when taken separately. Together, a perfect storm of gluttony.

This morning, I grabbed some freshly-laundered khakis and pulled them on with ease. "Oh good, maybe things are turning around," I thought. Buttoning them, however, was a whole different proposition. Nearly in tears, I took them back off and put on some jeans. They're snug too, but they don't cut off my circulation. They are size 12 jeans, for those of you who are curious. When I was on my way down the scale, size 12 was like the Garden of Eden of the pants world. It was the first size I'd wear in years that wasn't considered "plus." Now that they're tight on me, they are a warning, in huge, red, flashing letters: DON'T GET ANY BIGGER.

Logically, I know I don't look like this anymore:

But, I feel like that on the inside today.

The Punisher

2008-10-27T21:54:00.003-05:00

I've started to live in fear of putting my pants through the washer and dryer. It seems like each time I do, they get a size smaller. Wishful thinking, I know. My pants aren't getting smaller; I'm getting bigger.

At my personal trainer appointment on Saturday, the trainer put me on the scale, and measured my body fat as well. The body fat percentage was 30%. I'm not quite ready to reveal my weight to the world wide web right now. However, I promise, no matter what the number is- I will post it on Saturday. I just want a few days to see what I can do.

Apart from my showdown with the scale, my appointment went well. When I entered the facility and met The Punisher (as he will be called henceforth), I was slightly taken aback when I saw he wasn't a beefcake. In fact, it looks like he's eaten a little too much beef and cake lately. I'm not one to judge a person's fitness on his or her size, though. As I've seen time and time again, overweight people can often put skinny people to shame with their physical abilities.

He put me on the treadmill for a few minutes to warm up. I wasn't very enthused about being on the "dreadmill" after a long run that very morning, but it was only a warm up. He then put me through several circuits of weights, cardio, squats, crunches, and even some boxing. Switching exercises so frequently kept things interesting and moving along.

When I walked out (after pre-paying for 4 more sessions), I wondered if I'd gotten my money's worth. For some reason, I was expecting to be beaten and bludgeoned into a tenderized, weepy pulp. But, I wasn't even sore, and I wasn't sweating very much.

The next day, I was whistling a different tune, and the name of that tune was "When Oh When (Will My Thighs Work Again)." The Punisher hath reigned his sneaky, delayed-onset torture upon me. To add insult to agony, he gave me homework. I did my first assignment tonight, and I'm sure I'll be even more sore tomorrow (if that's even possible). My next appointment is Thursday.

I shall now hobble to bed.

This just in: Morgan turns down a free cupcake

2008-10-25T11:12:00.004-05:00

The wagon. I'm on it. Again.

I met up with my running group at 7:30 this morning with the intention of putting in 6 miles. Should be chump change compared to last weekend, I thought. Not so much. I got it done, but it was more difficult than I thought it would be.

After we were done, we got breakfast and then popped into Macy's. They were having a big 150th "birthday" celebration, and there was a huge tower of cupcakes. White cake. White icing. Sprinkles. If you're a newer reader and unfamiliar with my love of cupcakes, you can catch up by reading this post.

I turned it down, which surprised my friends, and me as well. Part of the reason I turned it down is because I was finally able to book an appointment with a personal trainer, and I'm meeting him at noon today. I didn't want my first session to be tainted by cupcake confessionals. I haven't even met the guy yet, and already I'm afraid of him giving me a scornful or disappointed look.

I'll be sure and write a post about the experience. Hopefully I'll get a good vibe from him and want to book more sessions.

Rethinking my image

2008-10-22T18:48:00.004-05:00

Wednesdays and Fridays are my nights to go see my grandmother at her nursing home. On Wednesday, I brought along pictures from the marathon to show her. Old people love to look at pictures. Grammy likes it when I bring my camera and hook it up to her giant TV so she can see everything on the big screen. It somehow makes her think that I'm technologically savvy because I can do this. She's always telling the people who work there that her granddaughter "works on computers." It's cute.

Anyway, I've heard many overweight people say that they didn't realize how big they were until they saw a picture of themselves. As I was viewing my image over and over again on a TV the size of my previously obese torso, I took notice of something.

Take a gander my mid-section there. It's gotten bigger lately. Sure, I'm all smiles in these photos, and I have my medal to hide behind, but who am I kidding? I'm gaining weight, and it's only going to get worse unless I take some action. Weight loss, in my opinion, is 75% nutrition and 25% exercise. No matter how many miles I'm running, fast food is not good for me. Running a marathon does not suddenly turn McDonald's into health food.

I also have come to the realization that I'm putting my health in the hands of others too much. I'm not taking responsibility. Angie and I are sabotaging each other right and left. There's no malice in it. It's not as if she wants me to gain my weight back, nor do I have that wish for her. However, we still manage to enable each other with all this junk food. That has to stop.

None of the 6 personal trainers I've emailed or called have contacted me back. I took that as some sort of sign that it's not time to get back on the wagon yet. Ridiculous! I can't believe I'm making those kinds of bargains and excuses again.

Like many people who struggle with weight, I seem to have a split personality. One half of me is the confident person who can run marathons, plan and prepare healthy meals, and stick to a routine. The other half is an insecure glutton who can only think about where her next junk food fix will come from. My brain is a boxing ring, and both of these personalities are duking it out. The glutton seems to have won the last several rounds. It's time to turn things around.

I went ahead and signed up for the Gobbler Grind half marathon next month. I plan on running 3-4 days per week. I'm also excited to get back into strength training 2-3 times per week. I had to give that up 2 weeks before the marathon, and I can't wait to pick up a set of dumbbells again. I really love feeling like a strong, buff bitch after a weights workout. More than anything, however, I MUST get my food choices back under control. That's the key.

During my heaviest years, I didn't like being photographed. As I lost weight, I stopped hiding and started smiling for the camera. I don't want to hide again.

Now what?

2008-10-22T06:47:00.003-05:00

With the marathon behind me, I'm looking for a new goal. My running friends are all thinking about their next race. Maybe a 10K or a half-marathon next month? Hmm.... I don't know. Am I ready for that?

All my running books say I need a few weeks off from hard training, especially after the beating I've just put myself through. I haven't exercised since Saturday. At first, I wasn't physically able to exercise, since I could hardly move my legs. Yesterday, however, I was pretty much back to normal. It was strange and surprisingly uncomfortable to be watching The Biggest Loser from the couch, rather than the treadmill. I felt guilty. In fact, the post-marathon depression that I've heard about is here, big time. Yesterday I felt incredibly down. I kept thinking that I'll never again feel like I did when I crossed that finish line. I'll never have another first marathon. Still, there's nothing I can do about that, so I have to try my best to move on.

I put in a few emails to some personal trainers around Kansas City. I figured a few sessions would be a good idea. Now that I don't have the "I'm a training for a marathon and I need a lot of carbs" card to play, there's no reason why I can't lose the weight I gained during training.

My next move is to just plan my next move. There are lots of options. I just have to research them, pick something, and get on board.

The Medal

2008-10-21T06:43:00.003-05:00

Here's a close-up shot of the medal I earned after the marathon. It's about the size of my palm, and it's nice and heavy. Very cool!

The Kansas City Marathon

2008-10-19T07:19:00.025-05:00

Wow, what a day it was. Yesterday went by very quickly, even though parts seemed excruciatingly slow. This may be the longest post ever, so get ready!

The alarm went off at 4:30 a.m. I hit snooze twice, then tumbled out of bed around 4:45. When I took the dog out, the first thing I noticed was the temperature. It was cold, in the low 40s. I saw what looked like snow covering the pavement and driveway. Then I realized it was just the moonlight bathing everything in its gentle glow. I took a moment and looked at the stars, which I rarely am able to see here in the city. Beautiful.

After some Eggo blueberry waffles and a big glass of water, I broke out the Bodyglide and went to...um...town. I was careful to get all the spots I'd missed on previous long runs. I got dressed and affixed my timing chip to my left shoe. By 6, Angie and I were out the door and on our way to the starting area, which was at a place called Crown Center. We found a parking spot a couple blocks away. I noticed a few runners doing short jogs in a effort to stay warm and loose. I opted to save my warm-up for the first couple miles of the race. We met Topher inside Crown Center. Topher and I had been emailing about starting the race together, and I'm glad it happened that way.

I then noticed a huge cowboy hat bobbing through the crowd. My dad wore the hat so I'd notice him, and it sure worked. It was good to have him there to give me hug before the start, and I appreciated him coming. At about 6:50, we went outside so we could get our spot in the pack. We located the pacer we wanted to follow. Topher and I were both hoping to keep up with the 4:50 pace group, meaning we would hopefully finish the race in 4 hours and 50 minutes. We found the pace leader and kept her in our sight. I hugged Angie and Dad, and waved to them as they made their way to the sidewalk to see us off.

Before we knew it, the gun went off, then we just stood there. We shuffled forward a bit, then just stood there some more. With an estimated 8000 runners participating, it took roughly 3 minutes to reach the starting line. Finally, my shoes passed over the mat of the starting line, and we were off.

The strategy of our pace leader was to warm up at a conservative pace for the first couple of miles, then settle into a more consistent pace for the remainder of the race. Topher and I chatted as we ran. He's a funny guy, and he helped me keep a light, upbeat attitude. Thanks, Topher!

The first few miles took place in downtown Kansas City. We ran through the revitalized Power and Light District, then headed by Union Station, then up the huge hill behind Liberty Memorial, where Barack Obama would be holding a rally that very night. By mile 4 I was already winded, but I smiled for a photo when I saw my dad and uncle at an aid station.

We continued through midtown, then through the Westport area. At that time, Topher needed to make a pit stop in Quicktrip. He said he'd catch up to me in a bit. I was still keeping up with the pacer, but I was starting to get lonely without someone familiar by my side. When the course split, and the marathoners split from the half-marathoners, I really felt alone. After going through the aid station at mile 8, I heard my name being called from behind me. I looked back and there was Topher. I said something like "Boy, am I glad to see you," and we kept going. Now we were heading through the area known as The Plaza. It was strange and awesome to be running right down the middle of Ward Parkway Blvd., a normally busy road that's lined with huge houses and gorgeous trees.

Around mile 12, we encountered the dreaded Sunset Hill. I ran this thing in training, and let me tell you, it's a bee-otch. It goes up, then plateaus, then goes up some more. Every time you think you're done, you're wrong. I was huffing and puffing, as were many of the people around me. It felt pretty awful to be so winded even before the halfway point.

Then, I saw the familiar cowboy hat in the distance. I approached my dad and he started running with me. "Hey Dad" was all I could muster. He told me my mother was up ahead with the camera. Once again, I put on a smile. Here's a blurry photo I love:

We got to the halfway point, and my time was 2:26, almost 10 minutes more than my half-marathon time in Omaha a few weeks ago. I tried not to be discouraged by that fact.

That's the last time I remember seeing Topher. I was kind of out of it, and all I could think of was that I'd be seeing some friends and family at mile 16. The pacer was still in front of me, but with every mile that went by, I wondered whether I'd be able to keep up with her.

I was overjoyed to see familiar faces when I reached the southernmost point of the race. Here's a picture of my mom, Uncle Burr, Aunt Lucy, and Uncle Pat holding up a big sign for me:

Then, I saw a dude taking pictures of me. I didn't see his face because he was behind a huge camera. When he put the camera down, I realized it was a coworker friend of mine, Michael. He ran with me for a block or two and asked me how I was doing. I honestly can't remember what I told him, but I probably sugar-coated things so I wouldn't look too wimpy. Then, another coworker friend, Eric, rode in on his bike and said hi. I felt so lucky to have such a big support system out there.

Speaking of support systems, it was right then that I saw Mandy on the curb, ready to run the next 8 miles with me. I was so elated to see her that I gave her a one-armed hug as we ran.

We got to the next corner and saw Angie, my friend Noelle, and running buddies Pritha and Ellen, all cheering me on. Mandy asked me how I was doing, and I didn't feel the need to sugar-coat things for her. "Could be better," I said. She spent the next few miles talking to me without expecting me to talk back, which was very sweet. At that point, every word spoken was an effort, and I still had 10 miles to go.

A couple miles later, I saw my friends Mary and Bing holding up a big sign for me. The pace group leader (who I was still miraculously keeping up with) told me I had the best support on the course, and I believed her.

Running, running, and more running. At mile 19, I was in bad shape. I realized there was no way I'd be able to keep up with the 4:50 pacer and survive to tell the tale, so I bade her a silent goodbye and slowed down to a glorified trot. Better yet... a shuffle. The Wall had found me. I told Mandy I needed to walk for a minute, so we slowed down even more. She offered me the bottle of Gatorade she'd brought along. I wanted Gatorade, but didn't want it. I was hungry, but the idea of food sickened me. My brain was a mushy, pureed haze. This feeling would continue for the next 5 miles.

When mile 20 arrived, so did Pritha and Ellen. They were there to run me to the finish line. I wanted to hug them, but I could barely even talk, let alone lift my arms. They kept telling me how strong I was, and how well I was doing. They were trying to pick me up, out of my funk. It was a sweet and valiant effort, but I was still feeling awful. I could feel blisters forming on my feet, my hips were grinding, and my legs seemed to be made of lead. I was also having a hard time forming coherent sentences. It was as if I was drunk, and not in the "I'm slightly buzzed and having a great time" way. It was more like the "everything is spinning and I'm gonna hurl" way. By now, I'd pretty much kissed a sub-5 hour marathon goodbye. I was at peace with that fact. I knew I'd finish, and that was my primary goal.

Mile 22. Another big hill that never seemed to end. Slowing to a walk yet again, I saw my folks up ahead. "There are my parents. I'm gonna lose it, you guys," I told my friends. My dad walked down to my side and I started crying.

My mom wanted a picture of me with my "Running Girls," but she was having a hard time getting a shot while we were still moving. Finally, I just said "screw it, let's stop for a picture." This was the only time I stopped moving during those 26.2 miles. Here we have Mandy, me, Pritha, and Ellen:

More running, more running. I'd run for 5 or 10 minutes, then need to walk again. It seemed to go on like this forever. At some point, I glanced back and noticed there was still a pace group leader behind us. In a foggy stupor, I asked the girls if they knew what pace group that was. Pritha ran back to check, then came back and said it was the 5 hour group. Hearing her say that was the medicine that brought me back to life.

Although I still had to walk every now and then, I picked up the pace as much as I possibly could. I kept looking back to see how close behind me they were. "They're still behind you," the girls kept reassuring me. "You're going to make it."

Miles 24 and 25 clicked by relatively quickly, when compared to the previous 5. I distinctly remember Ellen saying "You're going to remember this for the rest of your life." They were going to drop out and let me run the last mile by myself, but I asked them to stay with me, because I still needed them. I asked that they remain with me until just before the finish line.

Mile 26. Only 0.2 miles to go, and for the first time that day, the words "I'm almost there" were true. I heard the echo of the finish line commentator's microphone. After rounding a corner, I saw the finish. I thanked my friends as they dropped behind me and onto the sideline area. Then the tears started flowing. I'm crying now, just writing about it. I saw the clock. 4:59:50. I took every little bit of strength I had left and kicked up my heels. As I crossed the mat at 4:59:58, I threw my hands up in happiness. I would later learn that my official chip-time was 4:56:50, because it took those 3 or so minutes to get to the starting line after the gun went off.

Through all my training , I'd looked forward to the moment of crossing that finish line and having a medal placed around my neck. When the moment occurred, however, I completely forgot about the medal. All I cared about was finding my family and friends. It's a blur, really, and I can't remember the order in which I located everyone. I found my friend Patty and her daughter, Sophia. Patty was in tears, which made me cry even more. I saw my parents and and hugged my dad. I was bawling at this point, and he was crying too. He kept saying "You did it!" over and over. My mom hugged me and said she was proud of me.

I went to the other side of the finish area and hugged Angie and Noelle.

Somewhere in there, a volunteer knelt down to cut the chip off my shoelaces. "You can lean on me, if you need to," he said. And I did. Another volunteer gave me water, and another gave me one of those space-age mylar blankets. Then, a nice woman hung the medal around my neck.

I found my running girls and hugged them all. I owe them a huge debt of gratitude for what they did for me that day. Every step I took during miles 19-24 is dedicated to them.

I was ready to head home. We walked a couple of blocks to the car and I finally was able to sit down. On our way home, we stopped by my grandmother's nursing home so I could tell her I was okay and show her my medal. It wasn't one of her good days, but I could still tell she was excited and happy for me.

Then home, then a shower. I was having some stiffness and soreness, but nothing too bad. I went into our dining room and saw that Angie had put a giant "Congratulations" banner on the wall, and she bought me a beautiful "26.2" silver necklace. Isn't she sweet? She has been so patient and supportive during all of this. I'm extremely lucky to have such an amazing partner.

That evening, we threw a casual pizza party with 30 of my closest friends and family to celebrate. Everyone seemed amazed at how well I was getting around. I was pretty amazed, myself. Granted, I had a few beers, but I was limber and loose. I probably could have gone for a run if I'd wanted to. I didn't want to, though.

It was a perfect day. Everything happened just as I wanted it to, and nothing went wrong. Even my "bad miles" were part of the package. I expected to have a low point, so that doesn't count as a negative point for the day. After the festivities were over and we went to bed, I just stared at the ceiling and thought over the day. What an amazing experience.

When I woke up early this morning and tried to move my legs, there was much protest from my body. My entire lower half is its own entity, and it doesn't want to do much of anything. Getting into and out of chairs is a major event which requires much planning and strategy. When leaving a room, I make sure to think if there's anything else I need to grab, because who knows when I'll be able to walk in there again? The zombie walk that plagued me after my longer training runs is back with a vengeance. For fear of scaring small children, I haven't ventured out of the house much today.

Still, I'm on cloud nine. I did it. I ran a marathon. I never thought I'd say those words, but here I am saying them.

The End

26.2 Miles- MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!

2008-10-18T15:56:00.003-05:00

Hey everyone! This is just a short note to let you know I completed my marathon, and lived to tell the tale. The tale, however, will have to wait until tomorrow, because I'm tuckered.

Thank you all SO MUCH for your support yesterday, and in all the days/weeks/months leading up to this. It's been a long, difficult, and wonderful ride, and your kind comments have meant the world to me.

I promise I'll post a full report and more pics tomorrow.

I DID IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Here I am about to cross the finish line:

This time tomorrow...

2008-10-17T07:59:00.002-05:00

...I'll be around mile 5 of the race. Holy crap.

At this moment, the calm before the storm is here. I took the day off work so I could relax, attend the fitness expo, and mentally prepare myself for the race.

Now, I'm going to ask everyone a favor. Could you leave me a comment, just a sentence or two, with something I can think of during the tough moments of the race? It can be funny, inspirational, cheesy...preferably not mean.

I hope all the lurkers will come out of their lurking closets as well. I need you!

Practice makes perfect

2008-10-14T20:00:00.002-05:00

Lately, whenever I do a run, I've been pretending it's Saturday and I'm on the marathon course. Tonight on the treadmill, I was doing an "easy" 4-miler, yet my legs were feeling sluggish and all I wanted to do was get on the couch and watch The Biggest Loser. Instead, I imagined I was at mile 22, with 4 more miles to go. The most I've run during my training is 22 miles. Those last 4 will be uncharted territory. So, I pictured myself running up the hill on Harrison Parkway, the last big hill of the race. There's no doubt I'll be hurting at that point, and I will surely question whether I can endure the last 4 miles to get to the finish line.

Then, I imagine how awful it would feel to give up with only 4 miles to go. So, I keep running. Every minute drags on, much like my toes drag as I take each step, but I keep running. People on the roadside cheer me on, telling me I can do it. I keep running. One foot in front of the other.

After an eternity, the 26 mile marker appears. Only 0.2 miles to go...this, I've been told, should be my "victory lap." It's time to smile, cry, laugh, scream, and be at peace with whatever has transpired. I cross the finish mat, raising my arms triumphantly in the air. It's over.

Are you all sick of hearing about this marathon yet? Don't worry, it will be over soon enough.

What will happen?

2008-10-12T21:10:00.005-05:00

People keep asking me if I'm nervous about the marathon. At this very moment, I'm not. Like all the major milestones in my life- getting my driver's license, graduating high school, getting a "real job," and turning 30- the marathon is just this thing that's going to happen in the future. It's very much like death in that way.

It seemed very far away when I started training back in June, and it seems very far away now. According to my little countdown widget on the sidebar (stolen from Topher), the marathon starts 5 days, 8 hours, and 55 minutes (give or take) from now. That's the reality. A very finite amount of time will pass, and then my size 11 shoes will shuffle over that starting line. When I think about it that way... yeah, I'm fucking nervous. Terrified, actually.

I'm not exactly sure why I'm nervous. Even though I know I'll be in a lot of physical and emotional pain toward the end, I know I can finish. So, fear of failure is really not what I'm concerned about. More than anything, I suppose I'm afraid of what will happen afterward. Will I want to do it again? Will I swear off running forever? Of course, it goes without saying that I'm scared of gaining the weight back. Running has been the thing that's enabled me to eat like a pig and only gain back a dozen or so pounds. What if an innocent, post-marathon celebration of pizza and beer becomes the catalyst for me becoming a statistic? These are the things that are on my mind.

So, when people ask if I'm nervous, I find myself saying things like, "Oh, I'll just be glad when it's over. The training has taken so much time out of my life, and I'm ready to get my life back. I'm not really nervous." That's a lie. I may even believe the lie as it's coming out of my mouth. However, when I really ponder the possibilities of that day, as well as what lies beyond it, my stomach rises to my throat and my heart pounds.

What will happen? There's only one way to find out, and that's to go through it. I have a feeling this will be both the longest and the shortest week of my life.

Nearly-nudist running

2008-10-09T21:43:00.005-05:00

As I was watching Spirit of the Marathon and crying my eyes out because it's such an emotional film, I noticed that the elite female runners wear... well, underwear... while racing.

Exhibit A: Deena Kastor:

Last Saturday, I donned my usual shorts and headed out for a 10-mile run. Every couple of minutes, I would notice my shorts riding up between my thighs, causing some discomfort and much annoyance. I'd keep having to either correct the problem by hand, or run a few steps in an unnatural motion so that my shorts would fall back into place on their own.

As an experiment, I took a different approach when I did a 4-mile treadmill run last night- a minimalist approach, if you will.

I ran in my underwear, and I liked it. Yup, it was just me, my Hanes-for-Her briefs, and a sports bra. Oh, and my running shoes. It was pretty liberating. All my jiggly bits were bobbing all over, but it was comfortable.

For those of you who regularly run with me, don't worry. You won't have to see me in my underwear anytime soon. I still plan on wearing my shorts to the marathon. Sure, underwear is light and airy, but where would I put my GU gels?

On second thought...don't answer that!

Nature vs. Nurture

2008-10-07T20:32:00.008-05:00

Those are my relatives. They're a fun looking bunch, aren't they? Those black dresses and sullen, bearded faces give me the warm fuzzies. I don't know if it's really true, but I've been told by several people in my family that one of my great aunts (not pictured) was one of the last people in the United States to have a lobotomy. Gosh, I'd never have guessed. They look so stoked to be alive... particularly the second woman from the right. She's clearly the family jokester.

Sadly, this post isn't about lobotomies or black taffeta. Instead, it aims to pose the question:

When it comes to being overweight, are we born into it, or grown into it?

As I look at the picture above, I notice that none of my relatives seem overweight. Perhaps they were too sad to eat; it certainly looks that way. The more I think about it, I realize that no one on my dad's side of the family is fat. Sure, a few of them may have an extra pound or two, but I have no obese paternal relatives.

The only people I know on my mom's side are my mother and my grandmother. Both have struggled with weight issues in their lifetimes. I never met my maternal grandfather, but pictures reveal a handsome man with kind eyes, and a portly physique. Both my mom and grandmother have hypothyroidism; so do I. This has been shown to slow metabolism and cause weight gain. All three of us now have it under control through medication.

That takes care of the "nature" side of things.

As far as "nurture" goes, I think that played a big role too. I'm not here to blame my upbringing for my weight problems, but I will say that food was used as a bargaining tool as I was growing up. Decadent treats were offered in exchange for a job well done. Dinners out were used as rewards. I remember when I used to spend the night at my Grammy's house every Saturday. There were literally no limits to the amount of food she'd let me eat. I have lots of "food memories" there. It was at her house that I learned about the smooth, velvety goodness of Swiss Miss Chocolate Pudding. I ate my first blueberry muffin there, and had my first (and only) experience with olive loaf. She was what my friend Mary calls a "feeder." To her, food was love, and boy did she ever love me! Even now, approaching 98 years old, living in a nursing home, she finds ways to be a feeder. She has a drawer full of Nutter Butters, bananas, and Pepperidge Farm Goldfish that she hoards from the cafeteria, then tries to get me to eat when I'm there.

Even so, grandmothers the world over pepper their grand kids with sweets and treats. Lots of parents occasionally bribe their children with McDonald's for getting their rooms clean. Not all those kids wind up overweight or obese, but for some reason, I did.

For me, I think both genetic and environmental factors were involved. One way or another, I was destined to get fat, then get thin, then get kinda fat again. So here I am, about 10-15 lbs. overweight (again), and trying to get back to my "fighting weight" of 160. Maybe half of my genetic make-up isn't on my side, but hopefully the environment will be for the foreseeable future.

Fit and fat?

2008-10-07T14:28:00.003-05:00

We had a fire drill at work last week. After we were cleared to go back inside, I opted to take the stairs rather than the elevator. As I moseyed up to the 7th floor, I took notice of a woman a few steps ahead of me. She was huffing and puffing like The Big Bad Wolf on a StairMaster. The fact that she was out of breath wasn't particularly amusing; what was interesting was that she probably only weighed 115 lbs., maybe less. She was skinny as a rail and totally out of breath. I was 170+ lbs. and feeling fine. I must admit, it was pretty awesome.

According to governmental standards, I'm overweight. However, I'm very physically fit. I can do push-ups, run for miles and miles, and take the stairs without breaking a sweat. Gone are the days of flunking basic fitness tests. I'm strong now.

Even though I can do all those things, I'm sure I would be appalled if I knew my body fat percentage. I pity the fool who runs behind me and is privy to the jiggling of my thighs as each foot hits the ground. I run like a lumberjack on painkillers. Trust me- there's nothing graceful about it.

I'm not sure there's a point to this post, other than things aren't always as they seem. To the casual observer, I probably look like an average, slightly overweight woman. Most people would never assume I could run a mile, let alone a marathon. It's fun to surprise people. I highly recommend it.

Ready for Monday

2008-10-05T20:53:00.004-05:00

I've had better weekends.

I was looking forward to spending a lot of couch time with Angie, enjoying the feeling of having no obligations, and just being content. It didn't work out that way.

Let me back up. We had pizza on Friday night, and this of course affected my weigh-in on Saturday. You may have noticed I gained 2 lbs. this week- the same 2 lbs. I lost last week. When my alarm went off at 5:00 a.m. on Saturday morning, the last thing I wanted to do was get up and run. I almost didn't. However, my friends were expecting me to be there, so I went. I got 10 miles in. I was feeling so sluggish and exhausted that I just couldn't muster another 4 miles in order to log the 14 miles I wanted to do. But, 10 is a lot better than nothing.

After our run, we went to Cracker Barrel for breakfast. I must have been one of the only Midwesterners who had never visited this lovely establishment, but I was finally indoctrinated. They were having a breakfast special which included a brownie with your eggs and bacon. WTF? Is no meal safe from chocolate anymore? I opted for the buttermilk pancakes with turkey sausage and scrambled eggs. I figured a 10 mile run earned me some light, fluffy, pancakey goodness with real maple syrup. Cracker Barrel was really the high point of the weekend. Hmmmm....

After watching a lovely horror flick called Midnight Meat Train (you won't want to eat beef again for a long, long time) with Angie, she went out, and I was left to my own devices for the afternoon. For some reason, I was feeling incredibly sorry for myself and lonely. I called a lot of people to talk, but no one was around. Even my 97 year old grandmother was too busy playing bingo at her nursing home to chat with her seratonin-depleted granddaughter. When an emotional eater gets lonely, you'd better lock up the refrigerator. I was on a war path. You can imagine what happened next.

That was Saturday. On Sunday, Angie was sick and spent most of the day in bed. This was obviously out of her control, but I was still bummed out. More loneliness, more eating. The weekend breezed by, and I have nothing to show for it except for a distended abdomen and a bad attitude.

Now I'm feeling tired, bloated, foggy, and more down than ever. My heart hurts- and I'm hoping it's because of the depressed mood and not hardening arteries. When will I finally learn that food will NOT reverse any negative emotions I'm having? I hope it's soon, because these jeans are feeling awfully tight.

I'm still not giving up. As long as you're reading blog posts from me, that means I'm still trying. When a weight-loss blogger stops blogging, then you really have a problem. Hey- I still managed to run 10 miles on a stomach full of greasy cheese and pepperoni (gross), and although my size 12s are tight as a mo-fo, they're not what I'd call "muffin top tight." Things could be worse.

I'm still here.

Taper time

2008-10-02T15:07:00.004-05:00

Even before I started my official marathon training, I was looking forward to the "taper phase," in which I gradually reduce my mileage before the big event. Taper time is finally here. Less running, no cross-training, and more sitting on my butt. I like the taper phase already, and wish we could have gotten acquainted much sooner. I'm ready to be done.

With the big day only 2 weeks away, I'm starting to wonder what life will be like after I cross the finish line. I must admit I'm really burned out on running right now, and I'm excited to try out a different routine. I've been thinking about taking spinning or boot camp classes at a local gym, but we'll see what happens. I don't want to commit to anything now, because there's no telling how I'll feel after running 26.2 miles. Maybe I'll hate it, and my running shoes will collect dust for a few months. Maybe I'll catch the marathon bug and want to do another one right away.

I've heard about people getting the "post-marathon blues," almost like postpartum depression. There's all this build-up, preparation, and hard work put into it, and then all of a sudden it's over. Training has definitely been my "baby" for the past few months, and part of me will probably be sad it's over. The other part of me will be doing a happy dance...after I regain use of my lower body.

Subject change...

Tomorrow is Saturday, so I'll be stepping on the scale. I've been (mostly) off fast food this week, but I did have one slip-up. I'm predicting that I'll either maintain, or gain a pound. Check the sidebar tomorrow for an update.

Also, I'd like to thank everyone who checks in to read about my silly life. Your support, tips, and words of inspiration always make me happy. Every time I see a comment come in, I get excited. Please keep them coming!

Cauldron of Doom

2008-10-01T15:32:00.006-05:00

I've done several posts about the fact that my workplace is one big, free, unhealthy vending machine. Who can forget the Ranch Dressing Fountain of Doom? That's something I don't think I'll ever forget, although I've certainly tried. Sometimes, at night, I can still smell it... *shudder*

Okay, I feel a panic attack coming on. Enough about that.

I went over to visit a friend in another department, and this is what greeted me:

Cookies. Snowballs. MNMs. Mini-donuts. Chips. Crackers. Candy bars. It's October 1st, for Mr. Goodbar's sake. Halloween is 30 days away, and already we have a cauldron full of full sized candy bars. FULL SIZE!

See that Nestle Crunch bar on top? I wanted that. I also wanted the Reeces cups, the Twix, the 3 Musketeers, and the Butterfinger. Want to know the weird thing? I don't even like Butterfinger. I kept digging through the cauldron of chocolaty goodness, and beneath all the full sized bars, I finally found some of the itty-bitty ones, which are a little less scary. I located a fun-size Nestle Crunch, which was 60 calories. Back at my desk, I carefully unwrapped it, as though I were Charlie looking for the Golden Ticket. I smelled it, noted the texture of the little rice bits within the chocolate, then took a bite. Mmmmm. Then I took another bite. Mmmmmmmmm. Then it was gone.

And so it has begun. October through April is "treat season" at my workplace. Starting now, the availability of treats will go from "constantly in the background" to "completely in your face all the damn time." From Halloween until Easter, the level of temptation will be on red alert.

It's barely autumn, and already I'm ready for spring.

What have you done today...

2008-09-30T21:03:00.003-05:00

...to make you feel proud?

People who watch The Biggest Loser know those words. Tonight, that show saved me from making a big mistake.

I had a stressful day, and as the hours crept by, the cravings for unhealthy food got stronger. The more stressed and upset I got, the more entitled and defeated I let myself become. After dinner, I gave in and had a few extra fudge pops and a pita with some sliced chicken. It was a slip-up, but not what I'd call an outright binge.

I still had a workout to do. Since I'd already blown it for the day, I just wanted to forget about my scheduled 3 miles and order pizza. The anxiety was consuming me. All the conflicting emotions felt like tiny electrical surges in my brain. It was almost physically painful. I put my hands to my head as the devil whispered in one ear, and the angel in the other.

Order pizza!
No, don't do it!
It would taste so good!
But then you'll feel terrible about yourself!

I knew that stuffing my face would make me feel good for a few minutes, but then I'd feel like crap. I didn't care. I wanted to feel happy now, and I didn't care about the consequences.

Right as I was about to get my phone and dial for delivery, The Biggest Loser was on. As I watched the contestants struggle through their daily workouts and food choices, I reminded myself that I, like them, had a choice to make. I could pick up the phone, have pizza brought to me, and eat another 3000 calories' worth of artery-clogging poison. Or, I could put on my running shoes and do my 3 miles.

I put on my shoes, and before I knew it I was on the treadmill. It's been a long time since I pulled myself back from the edge. I'm proud.

Crazy weekend

2008-09-29T15:14:00.013-05:00

Over the weekend, I surprised Angie with a lovely trip to...drum roll, please... Omaha, Nebraska. She thought I was taking her to the zoo, which I was. Just not the Kansas City Zoo. I'd packed our overnight bags and shuffled the chihuahua to my folks' house, so we were all set for a fun weekend getaway. Besides the zoo, I had an ulterior motive for wanting to go to Omaha. As part of my marathon training, I wanted to run a half marathon. The Omaha Half Marathon seemed to fit the schedule perfectly, so off we went.

We arrived in Omaha around noon and headed right to the zoo. That place was amazing. We were there for almost 6 hours, and still saw only half of the place. We had an extremely unhealthy lunch (pizza, chips, and ice cream) near some cute penguins.

After the zoo, we checked into our hotel. I provided my driver's license and credit card, and the woman behind the counter handed me the room key, as well as two warm chocolate chip cookies. When we got to our room, we tried the cookies, and they were pretty damn awesome.

Dinner was at a brewery in the Old Market District of downtown Omaha. Artichoke dip, lots of bread, and a Thai chicken salad. Note to self: "carbo loading" does NOT mean you get to eat an entire basket of bread the night before a race.

As I slept Saturday night, I had a dream that I my alarm didn't go off, and I missed the race. I made myself wake up, and then noted the time: 4:50 a.m., which was 5 minutes before the alarm went off. I hate it when that happens. In a groggy stupor, Angie and I packed up our stuff, ate muffins, and got ready for the big event. This is me, "getting ready." Take special note of the bed-head, as well as the ski bunny pajama pants:

When we got to the race site, it was chilly. All the participants were lined up at the start, rubbing their arms to keep warm. As Angie wished me luck and moved out of the way, I started to choke up a bit. Her support through all this marathon business has been nothing short of amazing, and I was getting emotional just thinking about it. Leave it to me to cry before the race even starts. Geez. Here we are before the gun went off:

I was thankful to get the party started so I could get warm. I was getting passed by race walkers right and left, which was slightly embarrassing. However, I resisted the urge to keep up with the pack, and warmed up at my own slow pace. After a few minutes, I was ready to step it up. It felt wonderful to be racing again. I really enjoy my training runs with my friends, but there's something about a live race that is exhilarating and engaging. I was truly happy to be there, in that moment, running with such vigor and intensity. When I reached the halfway point and saw Angie, I flashed the cheesiest, dorkiest pose I could muster:

The second half of the race was hilly. I happened to be wearing my racing shirt from the Hospital Hill event I did a few months ago. On the back, it says "I Conquered the Hill." As I was running up an enormous hill that seemed to go on for miles, I really wanted to stop and walk. The only thing that kept me from doing so was the fact that my back said "I Conquered the Hill" and I didn't want to look like a chump. It worked.

My finish time was 2:17:30. I definitely wasn't first, but I wasn't last, either.

After getting my medal and grabbing some post-race treats, we immediately started our drive back to K.C. We got to relax for about 3 hours, but then it was time to get ready for a friend's wedding.

The after-effects of eating an entire basket of "beer bread"... painful.

Running 13.1 miles... really painful.

Squeezing into high heels after running 13.1 miles... holy-crap-i-am-gonna-die painful.

Feeling pretty in a short, black dress... priceless!

Free will

2008-09-25T13:41:00.006-05:00

My therapist and I had a nice chat on Tuesday. Or, I should say, I attempted to chat through all the blubbering I was doing.

I've never cried in front of my therapist before, or at least not like this. Honestly, the floodgates were ready to burst open before I even got my butt on the couch. It had been a while since I'd seen her, so I had some stuff to catch up on. Mainly, I was there to discuss my recent weight gain, and my re-addiction to all things sugar, salt, and fat.

She wanted to know how it began. I explained (between sobs) that it was a convergence of factors. I was stressed from a good friend at work being fired. I got sick with a nasty cold. Pressures of marathon training were suffocating me. Lastly, I just felt like eating a bunch of junk.

Then, she asked me a rather obvious question, yet it was something I'd not considered: "Did you not think this was going to happen eventually?"

Well, no, I really didn't. When I was slimming down, I didn't think of it as a temporary effort. It was a lifelong commitment, like a marriage. I was married to this healthy lifestyle. We were happy. We held hands and ran along the beach; we picnicked in the green grass and fed each other strawberries. Then I cheated. I had an affair with McDonald's. It felt that shameful and sinister, like I was being unfaithful to my true love. In fact, I remember one of the low points a few weeks ago, when I told Angie I was going to fill up my gas tank, but on the way I cruised the drive-thru. Yup, I lied to her, got a crappy cheeseburger, and scarfed it down before I got home. I couldn't contain my remorse, and wound up confessing a few minutes after walking in the door. I was worried Angie would smell the beef on my breath, like the telltale lipstick on the collar. Guilty.

When I considered the fact that most people who lose a lot of weight eventually have a relapse, I felt a little better. Also, I like the term "relapse," because it puts me in the same category as a recovering alcoholic or drug addict. To me, my addiction to food is just as powerful as that of booze to a wino, or heroin to a junkie.

In the past, my motto for getting back on the wagon has always been, "just have one good day." I shared that with my therapist, and she thought it was great. But, she added that sometimes even a day can be too much to handle. If I'm having a hard time, I need to try taking it one hour at a time; even one minute at a time, if necessary. The key is to remember that it's always a choice. I am in control, even when I'm out of control. Free will.

I went into her office a hopeless, depressed wreck. I emerged with a purse full of tear-soaked Kleenex and a better outlook. Gaining ten pounds is not the end of the world, nor is it a white flag of surrender. I will beat this.

Drained

2008-09-24T06:07:00.004-05:00

Yesterday evening, I was taking a stroll through my old college campus. The trees were already changing into their fall colors. However, it was difficult to see just how beautiful they were, because the sun was quickly setting.

At a nearby table, I noticed a few familiar faces...old friends. I went over to chat, but when I arrived at the table, things got weird. My friends' eyes were cat-like and yellow, their teeth long and pointy, and their faces bumpy. They had changed into vampires, and were no longer feeling like catching up on old times. They wanted to kill me.

I ran away as fast as I could. I could hear them close behind, laughing and taunting me, but I didn't look back. I ran for miles and miles, and I couldn't help but be grateful for my marathon training, which gave me the endurance to keep going. They were still there, though, toying with me. They'd let me get pretty far ahead, and just as I'd think they were too tired to keep up, they'd inch up right behind me. Vampires don't have to worry about stopping to drink Gatorade, or eating GU gels. They just wanted to eat me, and they were about to do just that.

Thankfully, I woke up before they were able to do so.

I ran more in my dream last night than I've run since my 22-miler on Saturday. Even though I was feeling great the day of the run, the following day I wasn't so good. I was totally drained and exhausted, and I also felt a sinus cold coming on. So, I decided not to do my usual Monday and Tuesday runs, opting instead to let myself recover a bit.

This morning, I woke up feeling more exhausted than I'd been when I went to sleep last night. I blame the vampires. I'm not a huge believer in dream analysis, but surely the notion that "running can be draining" plays into it somehow. Vampires, draining, chasing, running without an end in sight, and fear of death/dismemberment... all the good stuff was there.

I need a nap.

Pinky surprise

2008-09-23T12:08:00.004-05:00

I went to the mall today to buy shoes for a wedding. As the clerk brought out a pair of black pumps, I removed my shoes and socks and prepared to slip on some of those little hose "socks" they give you.

I saw what looked like a small piece of a leaf, or maybe dirt, on the bottom of my pinky toe. As I nonchalantly tried to brush it away, it wasn't coming off. Upon closer inspection, I realized it was a blood blister...a remnant from my 12 mile run in the rain 10 days ago.

The blister is gross and ugly, but it doesn't hurt. In fact, I had no idea it was even there until I was awkwardly trying on high heels for the first time in 12 years. I'm sure it would hurt like hell if it popped, so I'm going to hope that doesn't happen.

So there you go. Good times. Enjoy your lunch.

The 22 Miler (aka- Taking chafing to the next level)

2008-09-20T16:25:00.003-05:00

I was determined to make today's 22 mile run a better experience than the disastrous 20 miler from 2 weeks ago. I brought GU gels (Chocolate Outrage flavor, if you're interested). Tylenol made a preventative appearance before my run even started, as well as at the halfway point. Bodyglide...um...glided across all my usual chafing spots. Sadly, there was one place I neglected, but we'll get to that later.

Since I was going 22 and my friends were going 20, I arrived at the site early and ran 2 by myself. The temperature was hovering around 60 degrees, but it was already humid. Fog hung low to the ground and created an eerie, autumn-like start to the run. The cool weather wouldn't stick around long, though. By the end of our run, the temperature would reach 80.

When I got back to the starting point (inside a shopping mall), there were probably 200 people standing around, waiting to get going. I weaved through the crowd and found my friends, and we talked about our expectations for the morning. It was Pritha, Ellen, Mandy, and me. These were the women who got me through the 20-miler from hell, and I was happy to be running with them again.

The pacers from the Kansas City Marathon were running with us today, so my friends and I decided to run with the 4:50 pacer. That means that, if we followed this girl, we'd pretty much be guaranteed to finish the race in under 5 hours. Even though this was just a training run, we wanted to try an "official" pace team to see what it was like. We would also be running 9 miles of the actual marathon course that I'll be running on October 18th.

The first 2.5 miles took us through local neighborhoods. I was feeling good, but we were still having trouble keeping up with our pacer. She seemed to be going way too fast, and a couple Garmin GPS units confirmed this. At mile 3, Mandy was in a lot of pain from an ankle injury, so she wisely decided to call it a day. Runners are great at giving advice about resting, taking it easy, and carefully nursing injuries. But, few runners have the smarts to know when to take their own advice. Mandy does.

We got on a gravel trail and wound our way north. All the pace groups somehow got jumbled together at this point. The 4:50 group was way ahead, while the 4:30 and 4:40 groups lagged behind. We were all in a big pack, and it felt good to be with such a large group of people, so we just went with it and didn't try to catch up to the 4:50 girl.

In all of the literature I've read about marathon running, I've always read that a rookie mistake is to get cocky and go too fast early in the run. So, of course you can guess what I did. Leaving Pritha and Ellen behind, I effortlessly (or so I thought) caught up with 4:50 and stayed with her for quite a while. I knew my friends were close behind. Then came the hill.

I knew it was coming, and I knew it would be hard. I drive by Sunset Hill (yeah, it even has a name) twice each day during my work week. Since I've been in training, I've always looked upon it with ominous dread while driving past. Today, Sunset Hill and I officially got acquainted.

I kept my eyes straight ahead, pumped my arms, and got to the top of that damn hill. Even though I'd made it, I was exhausted, and I knew that I'd made a mistake in going out so quickly. At the 10 mile marker (12 miles for me), I met back up with Pritha and Ellen. Pritha's knee was hurting, but it was manageable. Ellen was having a horrible time breathing, but she kept going. We were all in pain, but we ran anyway.

As the mercury climbed, so did our chances of finishing with the pace group. They were long gone by this point, but that didn't matter. We were there to go the distance, nothing more. An 80 degree day is wonderful if you're out doing yard work, going to the zoo, or having a picnic. If you're running, 80 degrees is f***ing hot, and it's dangerous. If you don't drink enough water and sports drink to replenish the electrolytes you're losing, bad things can happen. You stop sweating, then the condensed sweat already on your body turns to solid salt. Then you get goosebumps. Sometimes these problems can still arise even if you take proper precautions. Pritha had plenty of fluids, as well as electrolyte-replenishment tablets, and still had salty skin and goosebumps by the end of the run.

The last 3 miles were really hard for me. I wanted to walk, but walking hurt just as much as running, so I decided to just suck it up and finish the damn thing. When we got back to the starting area and I felt the air conditioning hit me, I was oh so happy. Pritha was right there with me, and Ellen came in a few minutes later. Mandy had gone home, taken a shower, packed up her baby daughter, and come back to meet us for brunch. Eggs, potatoes, and wheat toast (no butter). Delicious.

When compared to my 20 mile run, I was in much better shape afterward on this one. I'm still walking like a zombie, but I can deal with it. The one thing I wasn't prepared for was chafing. Or, I should say, I thought I had prepared for it perfectly. However, the Bodyglide apparently didn't make it to one very important spot. Ready for this? TMI on the way... my buttcrack. Yup. When I got home, got in the shower, and the soapy water hit the area, my yowls of pain were reminiscent of a cat going for a car ride. If you're not sure what that sounds like, click here.

Buttcrack pain aside, I'm doing great. I'm proud of myself. 22 miles! If you'd told my 264-lb. self that I'd be running 22 miles, I would have thought you were playing a cruel joke. Now the only cruel joke is that I waited this long to be the person I now am. Can I get a WOOT WOOT!

Scare tactics

2008-09-18T06:27:00.004-05:00

I ate McDonald's last night. Again.

After my high-and-mighty post about high fructose corn syrup yesterday, I now feel like a total hypocrite. What's wrong with me? Why do I keep doing this?

As I was losing weight, I forced myself to watch shows like Big Medicine, Inside Brookhaven Obesity Clinic, and I Eat 33,000 Calories a Day. These are the people I could have been. People don't believe me, but I firmly believe I could have reached 400, 500, or even 600+ pounds if I didn't make a change.

My addiction to food never went away when I lost weight. It was dormant most of the time, only making an appearance when I was in an unfamiliar food situation, like a party or a buffet. I never kept unhealthy food in the house, so it was difficult for the addiction to come out. But lately, I've been seeking it out. McDonald's here, pizza there. As you already know, I've regained a few pounds.

I now feel like another person named Morgan...Morgan Spurlock from Supersize Me. Addicted to fast food all over again, hating myself for it, and feeling powerless to stop it. I'm happy while I'm eating it, then depressed when it's over.

The fact that I'm in marathon training is the only thing saving me from ballooning to my old size. If these eating habits continue after the race is over, I'll regain it all, and them some. I could wind up like the people on those shows. That can't happen.

I quit smoking cigarettes, so why is kicking fast food so difficult?

High fructose corn syrup ads

2008-09-15T16:28:00.003-05:00

Have you guys seen these ads? The corn people are now trying to convince us that high fructose corn syrup (HFCS) isn't any worse than sugar. It is corn, after all:

I love it. They're in such a panic that they have to make commercials urging us to buy HFCS products, as if it's easy to avoid. On Sunday, I spent 15 minutes in the bread aisle, in search of a loaf without the stuff. Finally, I remembered that Bob from The Biggest Loser is always talking about Ezekiel bread. I couldn't find it anywhere, then I finally located it in the frozen food aisle. When I checked the ingredients, I was pleased to find that HFCS was conspicuously absent.

Although there's no definitive proof in the matter, most health experts seem to believe that HFCS is largely responsible for the rise in obesity over the last few years/decades. The stuff is in everything. I was recently enjoying a delicious Fiber One snack bar, and I noticed HFCS in the ingredient list. Unbelievable.

Is nothing sacred?

TBL, how I've missed you

2008-09-15T15:18:00.003-05:00

The Biggest Loser (TBL) is back! Tuesday, September 16th, we'll see an all new season of extreme weight loss. There will be laughter, tears, sweat, and man-boobs.

I can't wait!

I was checking out the site today, and the first hour of the premiere is available to watch now. You can go here to view it. I checked out the first 5 minutes while I was on my lunch break, and was already crying.

What do you all think of TBL? Personally, I think it's incredibly inspiring. When TBL is on, I'm not on the couch while I'm watching it... I'm on the treadmill. It's the ultimate "if they can, then I can" kind of thing.

The rainiest weekend ever

2008-09-15T10:58:00.003-05:00

After running 20 miles, running 12 seems like it should be easy. That theory was proven wrong for a multitude of people this past weekend, including myself. The stars were apparently not lined up properly for good running conditions.

For me, a lot went wrong. Since the girls I normally run with were in St. Charles, Missouri, for the Lewis & Clark Half Marathon, I decided I'd do my training run alone, rather than try to run with another group. I wanted to experience a long distance run by myself, since much of my marathon run will likely be solo. I still went to the designated running group location, but started early.

It was still dark when I arrived at the course and took off. The first 2 miles were good. I was enjoying the solitude, darkness, and cool morning air. Our running coach marks the turns in the course with little flags. I saw a flag and took the turn. Then, quite a bit of time passed before I realized I should have hit a mile marker or an aid station. I started to get worried I'd taken a wrong turn. Then, I saw a some people running back the other way. "Are you with the running group? We're going the wrong way! We need to turn around!" Oh, joy. According to someone's GPS, we'd gotten about 1.5 miles off course.

Rather than keep my own pace and get back on my own time, I stupidly decided to keep up with the group until we got back to the marked course. Like many of the decisions I make while running, it was a bad one. I was pretty worn out, and I wasn't even halfway done.

Then, like some cruel joke, it started pouring. We're not talking a light drizzle, or a pleasant sprinkle. This could easily be characterized as a deluge. I just looked up "deluge" to make sure I'm using it appropriately, and yeah, it was definitely a deluge. I was pitifully soaked. I could feel blisters forming on my toes. Ouch.

By mile 9 (which was really mile 10 for me), my blisters were so painful I couldn't run anymore, and I opted to walk the last 3.

Yeah, not fun at all...but at least it was long.

And still, it could have been worse. I could have been one of the many people from our group who did the Lewis & Clark half marathon. They had gale-force winds (40-50 mph), torrential rain, and flooding. The race was cut short and they weren't able to complete the distance. They had to settle for 10 miles, and from what I hear, they had a pretty miserable time doing it.

Or, I could have been like Topher over at I'll Run for Donuts. He opted to avoid the rain all together, and spent his scheduled 18-miler on the treadmill. Can you imagine? I'm not sure whether to admire him or to smack some sense into him.

I don't know about you folks, but I'm ready to see the sun again.

Running up my tab

2008-09-12T11:24:00.005-05:00

Running is often touted as an inexpensive sport...as the exercise you can do anywhere with no special equipment. All you need is a good pair of shoes, right?

Whatever. Perhaps when I started running, it was inexpensive. At that point, I was still wearing my 5 year old tennis shoes, cotton t-shirts, a regular bra, and pajama bottoms while running on the treadmill. Then, when I got more serious, running became more expensive.

When I got my first pair of real running shoes, the pair I selected came in at a very cheap (or so I'm told) $95. One hundred bucks is not "chump change" to me, so when I learned that some of these shoes go for $150 or more, I was a little stunned. I was more stunned to hear I'd need to replace the shoes at least once before my marathon.

Marathon training escalated things even more. I joined a local running club so I wouldn't have to log 20-mile Saturday runs by myself, which wasn't cheap. Actually, it cost more than my car payment. As my weekly mileage increased, so did my need for sweat-wicking garments. Wanna keep the sweat and sun out of your face? Try a running hat! But you can't just get a regular hat. You have to get one with all these little ventilation holes so the heat from your head can escape. Wanna prevent chafing? Try a stick of Bodyglide...only $10 for a something that looks like a stick of deodorant. Want some running shorts with plenty of pockets? They're yours for only $35. Want to listen to music during your solo runs? Let me show you this lovely iPod Nano.

Then, there's the race itself. At $60, an entry for the Kansas City Marathon was very inexpensive, when compared to other entry fees I've seen. If you're one of those runners who likes to do a 5K every weekend, that could be $100 a month right there. After I finish the marathon, I'll probably need to buy one of those "26.2" bumper stickers, and maybe a KC Marathon hat, or a sweatshirt, windbreaker, etc. The whole damn world will know I ran that marathon.

Obviously, I realize I don't have to buy all this stuff. The truth is, I enjoy purchasing products. I'm a whore for merchandise. The local running store is a mecca for me. When I walk in and smell the synthetic fibers all around me, I feel happy. Even as I'm forking over half my rent money for shoes, shorts, and some chocolate-flavored GU, I know that these things will make me more comfortable during my workouts. I need all the comfort I can get for that marathon, because let me tell you... after doing that 20-miler, I can vouch for the fact that there's not much comfort to go around.

Here's a fun commercial that helps me illustrate my point.

Life is not a drill

2008-09-11T06:55:00.006-05:00

Seven years ago, when those planes crashed and the world changed forever, I was just a college student in Kansas. The moment I found out about the attacks, I was sitting in my school's breakfast cafeteria. I was eating fried eggs, sausage, and fried potatoes. I remember that because that's what I ate every single day.

It affected me, of course. Like most people, I spent the day glued to the television, completely shocked, not believing what I was seeing. It became real when I saw the people jumping from the towers. It was then that I started crying, and didn't stop until I fell asleep that night.

There are no really tall buildings in Kansas City, but I work in one of the taller ones. I also happen to work in a set of "twin towers," which is always strange this time of year. A few months ago, we had a fire drill. As I walked down a few flights of stairs, I got behind an obese woman who seemed to be having problems. Her knees were hurting her and each stair was getting more painful for her to descend. Because of her size, she occupied most of the width of the stairway. A traffic jam in the stairwell was forming because she was moving so slowly. She finally stopped, moved to one side, and waved us all by. I felt bad for her, but was happy I was no longer obese myself.

As I reached the bottom floor and walked outside, I marveled at the perfect weather and the storybook blue sky- much like that day in 2001. I also thought of that woman, and wondered if she was okay. I should have stopped and helped her. I should have made sure she could make it on her own. Then I thought of the disabled and severely overweight people who worked in the World Trade Center. They didn't make it. That wasn't a drill.

Life isn't a drill, either. My life has improved so much since I lost the weight, but even still, I often treat life like a dress rehearsal...as if the real thing hasn't started yet.

Sometimes it takes a traumatic event to shock us back into reality. For my dad, it was triple bypass surgery. Even though he was already thin, he made his diet even healthier. For my mom, and Angie's dad, it was when Angie's mom was dying from lung cancer. They both quit smoking. For much of America, it was September 11, 2001. We can't wait for our lives to start, because guess what- they already have. Now is the time to act. So do it- whatever it is. If you want to get healthy and lose weight, do it. It can be done.

Don't be like that woman on the staircase, letting everyone pass you by.

The number / Running with Shena

2008-09-09T14:43:00.003-05:00

I weighed myself this morning. I knew the number would be higher than last time, and I knew it would probably shock me. It did.

The number is 171.

I had serious reservations about making the number public. I've thought about whether or not to post it all day. Gaining 11 pounds in a few short weeks is obviously not something I'm proud of. Revealing to the blogosphere that the author of "Morgan Gets Thin" is getting fatter is embarrassing, to put it mildly. Still, I decided to just go ahead and tell you, because there's no sense in sugar-coating the world of weight loss and weight maintenance. For a few select people out there, maintaining an extreme weight loss seems nearly effortless. I'm not one of those people. My goal with this blog is to tell the honest, difficult, roller-coastery truth about my daily struggle. And it is just that- a struggle. Sadly, it always will be, but that's the way it is.

I'm not as concerned with the number as the way my clothes are fitting. It's a snug, snug world that I live in. A snug world, indeed.

So, here's the new plan. I'm going back to weighing in every day. Studies show that people who get on the scale daily are better able to maintain their weight loss. I'll post my weight on the site on Saturdays. I've also gone back through my logs to see what I was doing differently during my days as a 160 lb. person. The big difference was that I did a mini-workout in the morning, and ate 2 mini-breakfasts instead of one big one. Oh, another glaring detail was that I wasn't eating CRAP.

So there you go. I've gained 11 lbs. I've gone through denial, bargaining, and now acceptance. Time to move on and make the number go down!

Subject change...

Yesterday I did a 4-mile run with my friend and coworker, Shena. Let me give you a little background on her. She's funny and smart, graduated high school at age 16, ran track, weighs roughly the same number of pounds I lost, and has absolutely perfect hair. I find her intimidating, because I'm insecure like that. After work, we went to the park by our office. She said she'd let me set the pace. In an effort to not seem like the slow-poke I am, I set off at a much faster pace than normal. While I was huffing and puffing, Shena was effortlessly and gracefully bobbing along like a gazelle, her perfect hair blowing in the breeze. During our conversations, I'd manage to get out 2 or 3 words per gasp, while she could have recited a sonnet without pausing for breath.

I can't be sure exactly how fast we were going, but judging from the time elapsed, it was a sub-10 minute mile pace. That's fast for me. Afterward, I tried to pretend I wasn't hyperventilating, until Shena disappeared around the corner, at which time I puked behind my car. Just kidding...it wasn't that bad. In fact, I really enjoyed running with her and hope to make it a regular thing. Next time, maybe I'll even be able to complete a sentence all in one breath. Baby steps...

Yay for the ability to walk

2008-09-08T16:28:00.003-05:00

Saturday's 20-miler left me with two things:

1) an insatiable craving for ice cream
2) a total inability to walk like a normal person

I must confess that Saturday (and part of Sunday) was a total calorie-fest. Lockdown shmockdown. It was all about sugar and salt. I'm going to say it...just get it out, Morgan...

I consumed an entire half gallon of mint chocolate chip ice cream the day of my run.

In my defense, I will say that it was the slow-churned stuff. The entire container was 1200 calories, and I burned roughly 2500 calories during my run. So, I didn't beat myself up too much over it. Really, I was too beat up already to feel any worse.

When going from a seated position to standing, I was reminded of my 97 year old grandmother. Getting out of a chair was a step-by-step process. I actually had to think about where to put my hands, how to gain some momentum, then manage to get upright. Walking was...not pretty. My hips were locked in one position, so when I'd take a step, that entire side of my body would move with me. I walked like Robocop.

I woke up this morning and was pretty much back to normal. I'm running with a friend from work tonight, and hopefully I won't slow her down too much!

The 20-miler (aka- Children of the Corn)

2008-09-06T13:59:00.010-05:00

You may have noticed I don't use profanity much in my writing. This is for two reasons. First, I'd rather not offend people. Although I cuss like a sailor in my private life, I usually don't feel the need to assail the ears (or eyes, in this case) of my blog readers with my bad language. Secondly, if I'm going to drop an f-bomb on you guys, I want it to really mean something. I want it to be special. With that said, I can sum up yesterday's 20-mile run in two words:

Holy fuckballs.

Ah, that was cathartic. Now, for my report.

I woke up at 5 a.m. and got way too familiar with a stick of Bodyglide, then I hit the road. The run was in Lawrence, Kansas, which is where I started (but not where I finished) college many moons ago. The 4-mile warm up was basically one big hill- it's known as The Hill, actually. Seeing some of my old haunts was wonderful in some cases, and surreal in others. It brought back both happy and painful memories being there. Once we got out of the city and onto the levee trail, I was feeling better about being back in Larryville.

The trail was surrounded by cornfields. Corn, corn, and more corn. Some soybeans, then more corn. I was ready for an Amish-looking kid to pop out of one of the rows and yell "Outlander!" at me, just like in the Children of the Corn movie that I used to love (don't ask me why).

I was running with 4 girls who I've come to know pretty well. When you run miles and miles with people, you learn a lot. There's something about running long distances that brings out total frankness and honesty. It seems like nothing is off limits. We usually start off talking about everyday stuff, like politics, work, marriage/boyfriends/girlfriends, kids, etc. Then things move on. Every week, without fail, we talk about personal bowel habits at least once. After mile 10 or so, we're all tired and semi-delirious. We're not shy at that point.

It was shaping up to be a great run. I was in no pain and had plenty of energy. Then, a problem presented itself. As we approached the later aid stations, I expected there to be GU. Typically on these long runs, GU is provided, but there was none to be found. I should have brought my own, so it was really my own fault. But, this now meant I wouldn't have my usual calorie source during my run. I think that directly contributed to the events that followed.

At mile 14, I was struggling big time. My hips and butt were crackling and grinding with every step, I had a mild headache, and my sweat was becoming grainy and extra salty. I was dehydrated and I needed salt. At the aid station we found some pretzels and I grabbed as many as I could and scarfed them down. It helped a bit, but the next few miles were pretty damn miserable for me. I was getting really emotional. At only 16 miles, I was hitting the wall.

Those last 4 miles were the hardest miles I've ever run. My feet were barely lifting off the ground. It was more of a quick shuffle than a run, really. I was in a lot of pain, and all I wanted was for it to be over. If my group-mates hadn't been with me, I would have given up. So, I'd like to say thank you to my "running ladies," Ellen, Mandy, Marcela, and Pritha. You carried me through yesterday, and I can't thank you enough!

When I was done, I was in pretty bad shape. I was freezing cold, achy, emotional, and just totally spent. We all walked to a nearby restaurant to have a very late breakfast. Out of the 5 of us, I seemed to be the only one doing the "zombie walk." As we walked down Mass street, I felt people looking at me. I'm sure they were wondering how big of a stick I had up my butt. After a nourishing salmon sandwich I was feeling much better.

When I arrived home 40 minutes later, I was so stiff that it literally took me 5 attempts to get out of my car. I then ate a bowl of ice cream the size of my head and took the best shower of my life. I sounded like the girl from the Herbal Essences commercial.

I'm really proud of myself for finishing 20 miles. I've been apprehensive about this for months, and it's finally over. I got a small glimpse of the physical and mental anguish I'll experience on October 18th. Of course, I'm not done yet. I have a 22-miler in two weeks, and then I'll taper down until the marathon itself.

It won't be pretty. It will hurt like hell, but now I know I can do it. I can finish the marathon. All I have to do is get to the starting line.

Sweet Potato and Lentil Curry

2008-09-05T13:24:00.002-05:00

I've made this recipe so many times that I now have it memorized. It's full of carbs, which is great for me because I'm doing my 20-miler TOMORROW!!!

Ingredients:

2 tbsp. butter
1 large onion, diced
1 tbsp. curry powder
2 tbsp. all purpose flour
1 can vegetable broth
3/4 cup (6 oz.) dried lentils, sorted and rinsed
1/2 cup apple juice
1/4 -1/2 cup water, depending how soupy you want it
3 cups peeled and diced sweet potatoes (1 inch dice)
1 cup frozen green beans
1/2 tsp salt
fat free sour cream

Instructions:
Melt butter over medium-high heat in large saucepan. Add onion and cook about 5 minutes. Add curry powder and stir for 1 minute. Add flour and stir 1 minute. Gradually add vegetable broth, stirring continuously. Bring to a boil and stir until slightly thickened. Stir in lentils, reduce heat to medium-low, and cover. Cook lentils for 15-20 minutes, stirring a couple times, until much of the liquid is absorbed. Stir in apple juice, water, sweet potatoes, green beans, and salt. Bring to a boil, the cover and simmer 25-30 minutes, until sweet potatoes are tender. Divide into 4 portions. Put a 2-tbsp. dollop of sour cream on each portion.

I know this is roughly 325 calories per serving. You're getting lots of carbs from the sweet potatoes, and protein from the lentils. Fiber abounds! Leftovers are great the next day.

Ouch

2008-09-04T19:01:00.004-05:00

My legs hurt. I did strength training two days in a row this week, which was clearly a mistake. As I hobbled around the office today, my legs were in more pain than they'd been in after my 18 mile run two weeks ago. This is probably because I took so much time off from exercise and then pretended I could pick it back up with full force. It doesn't work that way.

I'm supposed to run 6 miles tonight. And, for the first time in a long while, the weather is really pleasant. It's in the high 50s and overcast...perfect weather for an outdoor run...and here I am in a buttload of pain. What to do, what to do...

I just took a couple Tylenol, and I hope to at least walk/run my 6 miles after my lovely dinner of Sweet Potato and Lentil Curry (yum-o). With the ominous 20-miler coming up this Saturday, I have no room to skip workouts.

In other news, it is day 3 of the Lockdown. Angie successfully navigated her way through the "hot dog extravaganza" at her workplace today, and I turned down Nutter Butters from my grandmother not one, not two, but THREE times. That's dedication. Those things are freaking delicious.

The best way to learn

2008-09-02T21:57:00.003-05:00

One of my very first college classes was Math 002. Most people called this "Math-oh-oh-DUH" because it was a remedial course for math idiots like me. Here I was, 18 years old, trying for the umpteenth time to determine the value of the dreaded x.

The instructor of the class was a teaching assistant who looked younger than me. In fact, he probably was. He was nerdy. He seemed like the kind of guy who liked magic. Or, maybe it was Magic: The Gathering. Hell, it was probably both. No offense meant to nerds who like these things. I'm proud to call myself a nerd. I don't like Magic, though. But I digress.

So, the 12-year-old teaching assistant told us the best way to learn is to teach others. While I understood this concept in theory, it didn't make much practical sense at the time. I was the girl who squeaked by with a D in high school geometry. How was I going to teach anyone else about the distributive property?

While I never utilized this principle in math class, it's served me well in other areas of my life- especially in this little weight loss endeavor of mine. I love talking about it and sharing my story, which is why this blog was born in the first place. People who ask me how I lost the weight are rarely prepared for the speech they get from me in return. When a friend came to me and asked me to be her trainer, I was all over it. I came up with an exercise plan for her and did a little evaluation, then we did a strength training workout together. As I was telling her where to put her heels during a lunge, or where to put her butt while doing the plank position, it was like I was going through it for the first time. Her goals became mine. My success seems dependent on hers.

Even if you're at the beginning of your weight loss journey, it's helpful to have a partner in crime. If you can find someone to pair up with- a person both to teach and to be taught by- your chances of success can only improve.

A good day

2008-09-02T11:05:00.003-05:00

Lockdown: Day 1. So far, so good. Last night I sat down and planned out my meals for today, and I stuck to it. I drank a ton of water and spent the greater part of the day in the restroom (too much information, anyone?).

Thanks to my friend Laura, I made it through a 6 mile run. It was my first run in 10 days. Honestly, had I been by myself, I probably would have found some excuse not to complete the mileage. Since I had a buddy, quitting was not an option. Even though I had to walk a few times, I made it through. It was steamy and pouring rain through most of it, too. Having a running buddy is so nice. Thanks, Laura!

I still have to do some strength training after dinner tonight, but I have deemed this day a success. It's amazing what a psychological lift I get after just one day of good choices. Even though it doesn't erase all the poison I've pumped into myself, my resolve and motivation have returned. It was the boost I needed.

Someone made a comment that I need to update my weight. Yeah, I know. When I build enough courage to even find out what that number is, I'll get right on top of that. I want to be on the wagon a few more days before I even think about getting on the scale. When I know the number, so will you. Thanks for being interested, though.

Lockdown

2008-08-30T19:11:00.005-05:00

Right after my 18-mile run last Saturday, I was a bit hazy. I don't remember exactly how it happened, but I got a visit from my nemesis- the one person who I've lived in fear of and tried to avoid for over a year. I got a visit from myself. Or, I should say, my old self.

She moved into my body and psyche and completely took over. For the old me, exercise is something reserved for self-righteous zealots. In her world, there is only one god: food, and lots of it. So, there has been no exercise for 9 days. No healthy eating choices for 9 days. It's been a fun visit, but she's got to get the hell out. I want my body back.

So, I'm starting over. I'm looking deep within myself to remember the reasons I started a healthier life in the first place. It's lockdown time. I'm ready to get back to the roots of this whole journey.

I'm back!

My poor lawn

2008-08-26T08:28:00.006-05:00

When I made the decision to train for this marathon, I knew it was a huge commitment. I was aware of the hours it would take out of my week, and that priorities may shift a little.

What I didn't anticipate was how many things would get neglected. For example- I enjoy having a clean household and a mowed lawn. These days, I'm embarrassed to make eye contact with the neighbors for fear of retribution over the jungle that is our front yard. Angie and I rotate the mowing responsibility, and right now it's my turn. I had an opportunity to get it done over the weekend, but I was still hobbling around like a zombie from my 18-miler. So, the grass remains ridiculously tall. The living room carpet remains unvacuumed, the bathroom floor is unmopped, the garage is cluttered...I could go on and on.

Every morning, Angie and I wake up around 6 to sit around, watch the news, and complain about having to go to work. Mostly we just sit on the couch and grunt at each other, until we're properly awake and ready to have a civilized conversation. We discuss the things we'd love to do, vacations we'd like to take, etc. This morning, I was daydreaming about post-marathon autumn, when there will be time and (hopefully) energy on Saturdays for me to rake leaves and clean out the garage. Oh- and sleep beyond 4:30 a.m. That will be most wonderful.

I never thought I'd see the day when I'd actually want to do yard work and clean the house, but that day is here. October 18th can't come soon enough.

18 miler

2008-08-25T16:03:00.002-05:00

I awoke at 4:30 on Saturday morning to the sound of crashing thunder. "Oh, f***," I thought. It was the day for my 18-mile training run, the longest distance I'd ever gone. The idea that it might be canceled due to lightening (thereby postponing the inevitable) was worse than the idea of actually doing the run. As I slathered Body Glide all over my usual chafing spots, I muttered profanity to the dog about the thunderstorm. He tilted his head from side to side and wondered what the hell I was talking about.

My dad, who is training for a hiking trip in Wyoming, accompanied me to the meeting place and strapped on 40 lbs. of hiking gear. As our coach was making announcements on his bullhorn, he introduced my dad and said "he's a big lightening rod with that backpack on, so stay away from him."

I took off with my usual pace group and witnessed one of the most beautiful sunrises ever. The lightening was still there, but it was far in the distance and no longer a danger to us runners. Gentle raindrops created a refreshing reprieve from the usual heat and humidity we've experienced the past few weeks. The first 5 miles were unnervingly easy, but my confidence was soon shaken when I started having unpredictable spasms in my hip/butt every few steps. I was only at mile 6, and the prospect of having to conquer the 18-mile distance at a later time was something I didn't want to think about. To my great relief, the spasms stopped as abruptly as they began. I chatted with the other people in my group as much as possible, trying to keep my mind off the fact that I was running 18 freaking miles.

A few hours later, when it was all over, I was in a fair amount of pain. I popped a couple Tylenol, had a hot shower, and tried to drink as much water as possible. Just like when I ran 16 miles three weeks earlier, I was feeling mentally out-of-sorts...kind of loopy and emotional. I'm not sure why that happens to me, but it's a side effect I'm not too fond of.

Even though I've gotten used to the fact that I've lost all this weight and can actually run, sometimes it hits me just how nutty it is that I can run long distances. During those awful fitness tests in high school, I couldn't run even half a mile without stopping to cough and wheeze. Now I know I can run 18 miles. Yeah, it hurts like hell, but I can do it.

The Golden Arches of doom

2008-08-21T08:49:00.003-05:00

So I ate McDonald's last night. After my regular dinner. Right before bed, too. This morning I'm feeling marginally guilty, but more than that, there are physical manifestations of my trip to the Golden Arches. Headache, fatigue, bad mood... I could go on.

I always feel this way after eating junk with no nutritional value. So, why do I continue to do it? Why is it so difficult to think "Oh, I probably shouldn't eat McDonald's because it will make me a zombie tomorrow" prior to the act? Because I want fries, that's why. The anticipation of salty, starchy goodness outweighs any common sense that makes an appearance in my brain.

Also, I should mention that when I get a craving for junk, Angie is usually close behind me. In this case, she actually was the one who went and picked up the food. So not only am I subjecting my own body to this artery-clogging crap, but a loved one's as well. That's a pretty terrible thing for me to do. So, this morning, I told Angie that McDonald's is on the "banned" list for now.

On a brighter note, the binge eating is starting to subside a bit. While I had my disgusting cold last week, I allowed myself to make terrible choices at mealtimes, thereby cutting off any sense of deprivation. I guess that's the reason I haven't had a binge in a while. Now, if I can just stay on the common-sense-wagon for a few days, I'll be in better shape.

Back from the couch

2008-08-18T08:25:00.003-05:00

It's been a foggy-headed, snot-filled week. I've been sick with a nasty cold. Six days have passed since my last run...I didn't even go to my group run on Saturday. I felt really guilty about that, but I was feeling so run down that I knew a rest was in order. The prospect of running 4 miles this evening fills me with both relief and dread. Here's the thing- the past few days of sitting on my butt and eating anything I want has been kind of nice. I'm getting way too used to it. Dangerously so.

At the same time, however, I've felt like total crap, and not because of my cold. I've had a headache for almost 48 hours because I'm dehydrated. Water? What's that? Oh yeah, it's that stuff you're supposed to drink instead of diet soda. My body is signaling to me to get back to my routine, so I'm going to start listening.

It makes me wonder how many people's diets have been derailed because of an illness. How many of you have fallen off the wagon because you've gotten sick? How did you bounce back?

Running on empty

2008-08-11T16:10:00.002-05:00

I have a hard time sleeping on Friday nights. My group workouts on Saturday mornings tend to make me nervous, so it's often a struggle for me to fall asleep the night before. This past Friday was no exception. In fact, I didn't sleep at all. Not one wink, not one minute. Sleep never came.

At 10:30 p.m. that evening, I got under the covers and was not surprised that I didn't feel tired. I did my best to clear my head and relax my body. Sometimes just laying quietly is enough to bring on the snoozing. Forcing yourself to yawn sometimes helps, too. After a while, I checked the clock...after midnight. "If I fall asleep soon, I'll still get about 5 hours," I told myself. Every position was comfortable for only about 30 seconds. Stomach. Right side. Left side. Back. Stomach again. After enough tossing and turning to wake the dead, I was still wide awake, while Angie snored softly beside me. It was 2:30 a.m.

I asked Angie to spoon me, hoping a little human warmth would take me to Sleepytown, USA. It was working...my breathing was slowing and I could feel sleep washing over me. Then, Angie apparently had a nightmare, and I felt her arms tightening around my neck. I love it when my girlfriend tries to kill me in her sleep. Nothing says love like strangling your significant other during a REM cycle. Taking my near-death experience as a sign that I should just get up already, I shuffled into the living room and turned on the TV.

I hate staying up all night. Everything seems to have a strange nighttime haze over it. Time stands still, and loneliness looms. You're surrounded by people, yet you're all alone in the universe. After flipping through the channels, I settled into Lifetime's Intimate Portrait of Ava Gardner. What an interesting lady she was. My grandmother and I used to watch Showboat all the time while I was growing up. Every so often, I still find myself humming the tune of "Cant' Help Lovin' Dat Man of Mine." It was 4:00 a.m.

By 5:00 a.m., I had my running clothes on and I was on my way to the meeting place. I couldn't tell if the fog I was seeing was real, or just a hallucinatory manifestation of the fog in my head.

Running 10 miles on zero sleep was...unpleasant. Each mile seemed to get progressively longer. If it hadn't been for the distracting conversation of the group, I probably would have given up. After the run was over, I headed home, showered, and ate a second breakfast. Then, I finally got some sleep.

Another good reason to start running

2008-08-07T10:37:00.004-05:00

Some pics

2008-08-06T20:13:00.011-05:00

A couple of people asked for more pictures, so here we go!

This is about the biggest I ever got. Those are my size 26 jeans, and my XXL hoodie that barely covered me. It was about a year later that I started trying to lose weight.

I remember when this was being taken. I tried to stand sideways in an effort to appear thinner. Worked really well, eh? This is the final picture I have of myself when I was obese. I never allowed myself to be photographed after I saw this.

On my way down on the scale, and feeling better about being in front of the camera. I was maybe 200 lbs. in this picture.

Here I am at 185 lbs. Feeling great!

Angie and I ringing in 2008. We drank our champagne by 6:30 p.m. and passed out at 9. Clearly, we're the life of the party.

161 lbs! This was taken before a 5K race. See how happy I look? After the race was over...not so much. I totally wore myself out and thought I was going to faint after I crossed the finish line. However, I beat my previous 5K time, so who cares about a little wooziness?

At the St. Louis Zoo. I'm the one in the foreground.

Sweet 16 / Q&A: Fat talk

2008-08-03T16:08:00.004-05:00

I spent most of Saturday morning in pain. Body parts that I was blissfully unaware of previously were screaming at me. It was hot and humid. It was my first 16 mile run, and although I was hurting, I was (mostly) loving it. I once heard the coach of my running group say that if you can run 16 miles, you can probably finish a marathon. If my body hurt that much during Saturday's run, I don't want to imagine what 26.2 will do to me. Afterward, I walked around like I had a redwood tree up my butt, and my mind wasn't quite right. I felt confused and emotionally fragile, like I could break down in tears at any moment, though nothing was wrong. After a couple Tylenol, a hot shower, and plenty of water, I was back to normal. The upcoming week will be a recovery week, so I'll back off a bit on the running and try to keep my eating in check.

Subject change...

One of the questions I received from a reader was this:

I've got a question - I read an article not too long ago that had been written by a woman who had lost over 100 lbs. She said that a few times she's had weird conversations with people who didn't know her when she was at her heaviest. They'll make derogatory comments about fat people, and expect her to join in...when really, she's horrified by what they just said. At the time she wrote the article, she said that she still hadn't figured out how to respond to these people. Has something like that ever happened to you?

Fortunately for the people out there who have a problem with overweight individuals, this has never happened to me. Because if someone were to make a rude comment like that, I'd get angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry, because...I'd...um, I'd tell you you were mean. Yeah, that's right. Don't f*** with me.

Seriously, though, most of the people I interact with know my story. So far, I've avoided this kind of talk. Sometimes, when I'm daydreaming, I imagine what I'd say if I were ever in that situation. I'd like to think I'd stand up for the fat people of America. In reality, I hate confrontation and I'm kind of a weenie. Hopefully I'll never have to find out.

50/50/50

2008-08-01T20:35:00.004-05:00

Last night, we went to see Dean Karnazes's new movie, UltraMarathon Man. It played only one night, one time, in only one theater in town. It felt pretty great to be seeing a movie that was all about running, inspiration, and perseverance. In an effort to raise money to combat the childhood obesity epidemic in America, he ran 50 marathons in 50 states, in 50 consecutive days.

Angie and I met up with a running friend of mine and we found seats toward the back. The theater was full. Some people were clearly runners; all one had to do was look at some of the leg muscles on these folks to know they'd logged a few miles in their day. Others were clearly not runners. Maybe they came to be inspired by Dean's message, or maybe they were dragged, kicking and screaming, by a friend. Either way, they made the right decision.

The film showed little snippets of all 50 marathons, and spent additional time covering the more interesting ones. He started his journey in St. Charles, Missouri, at the Lewis and Clark Marathon. Before the race began, he and his wife renewed their wedding vows near the starting line. It was sweet. In Kansas, my home state, Dean ran in Wichita during gale-force winds and pounding rain. He definitely was having a bad time, and it was only the second day.

I shed a tear or two (big surprise), and laughed a lot as well. But mostly, it filled me with excitement, knowing my marathon is not too far off. At a time when my training is wearing on me, the film reaffirmed why I'm doing what I'm doing.

Dean touched a lot of people during his 50/50/50 challenge. He seems like a very humble, approachable, likable guy, and I really hope I get the opportunity to meet him one day...maybe even run with him, if only for a minute.

Q&A: How it began

2008-07-28T14:36:00.003-05:00

Last week, plagued by boredom over the same old topics, I asked for help from you, my readers. I wanted your questions, and you asked them. Thanks for doing that, by the way. Just so you know- I love comments. Keep them coming, please!

One of the first people to respond asked me how my struggle with binge eating began, and if there's any advice I can offer for people stuck in binge mode.

As I'm sitting here, formulating what to say, the answer becomes longer and more detailed every time I rethink it. This post may get long.

I can't remember the first time I binged, but I couldn't have been more than 10 or 11 years old. Do you remember when you were in grade school, how you'd eat lunch at a ridiculously early hour? Like, 10:45 a.m.? I'd get home from school around 3:30, feeling like I was starving. Sometimes my mom let me have a snack, but not always. She often made me wait for dinner. By the time dinner rolled around, I was so hungry that I'd wolf down my food in a few short minutes, then have seconds. I'd wind up eating more than my parents, and still want more.

When I was old enough to be left home alone, I'd sneak cookies, ice cream, and ham sandwiches into my room after school and savor the fact that I could eat as much as I wanted, and in private. I'd eat and eat, sometimes devouring a half gallon of ice cream in a single afternoon. When my mom would ask what happened to the ice cream she just bought the day before, I'd shrug my shoulders. Mom would then blame Dad for the missing sweets. I felt guilty, but not guilty enough to confess or stop. Or, maybe I felt so guilty that I couldn't stop. It's a coin toss.

I was a pudgy kid- overweight to be sure- but I wasn't what many would call "fat." I was tall for my age and somewhat athletic. I spent a lot of time riding my bike and shooting hoops with the kid next door. I suppose it's that small bit of exercise that kept me from looking like the Michelin Man as I entered adolescence. I was on the tennis team my first two years of high school. Then, at age 16, I quit the tennis team and started smoking cigarettes. I got a car, which was my ticket to a whole new world of caloric possibility. Taco Bell became a second home. On my way home from school, I'd often hit the drive through and get 2 bean burritos and 2 tacos. Then I'd go home and eat dinner with my parents. In an attempt to hide my visits to fast food joints, I'd avoid bringing the empty paper bags and wrappers into the house to be thrown away. Eventually the trash would pile up in my car. Under the cover of night I'd find a dumpster somewhere and throw it all out.

As the years passed, this kind of behavior would ebb and flow, depending on what was going on in my life. For example, at the beginning of a romantic relationship, the binge eating would stop because I was so euphoric. Then, as the novelty wore off, the binging would increase. Again, I was technically overweight, but still very average-looking. I was about a size 14 until my mid-20s. I'm not sure when exactly I totally lost control. From what I remember, nothing too traumatic happened to me. I quit smoking, which certainly didn't help curb my appetite. I also went through a difficult break-up, but it wasn't life shattering.

At some point, though, there was a flip of a switch, and any amount of food I consumed was never enough. The part of my brain that said "Stop, I'm full," totally stopped working. The volume of food I ate combined with my lack of exercise, was a recipe for disaster. At age 29, I found myself wearing size 26 jeans and weighing 264 lbs.

You know the rest of the story. For those of you who are starting a healthier life, I wish I could tell you that I don't binge anymore. Yeah, I lost the weight, but that girl- the one who cruises the drive-through on her way home, then eats a second dinner- is still very much a part of me. In fact, now that I'm in training for a marathon, my appetite is more voracious than ever. I still think about food all the time. Some days are great, others suck. You know how it is.

If, after reading all this, you still want advice from me... well, I'll have to assume you're a little crazy. The fact is, I need to be getting advice, not giving it. That's why I started seeing a therapist. One of the biggest pearls of wisdom she's given me is this: even when you're in the trance of a deep binge, when you think you've lost all control, you still have a choice. Every time you go back to the kitchen for just one more bite, you're making a decision.

It's advice that's as true as it is difficult to follow. I think there have been only a handful of occasions when I've been able to pull myself out of a binge before it's run its course. I know how hard it is. But, the fact that I've been able to "snap out of it" leads me to believe that I could do it again. Maybe you can too.

Crash landing

2008-07-25T08:30:00.003-05:00

Thanks for all your questions. I'm excited to answer them all in upcoming posts.

Today, though, I'd like to discuss the past week of intuitive eating. In one of my earlier posts, I equated the concept of eating whatever you want, whenever you want, to jumping out of an airplane without a parachute. Well, I jumped, and my chute most certainly did NOT open. I crash landed in a town called All You Can Eat, U.S.A., and now I'm trying to find my wagon and hitch a ride home.

According to the book, a person needs a lot more than a week to fully understand the concepts and techniques. In this short time, however, I know this method isn't something I'm ready to practice yet. My goal is to think less about food, and with all the freedom that intuitive eating affords, food became the only thing on my mind. Additionally, I allowed myself to eat so much that I missed workouts on two occasions. One of the missed workouts was a 5 mile run.

So, it's back to the old system for me. I'm going eat on a schedule so I won't get hungry in the first place, and limit my choices to a few things for each meal. There will still be a cheat meal (ideally only one) on the weekend, but I'll no longer eat "whatever sounds good" at any given moment. Peanut butter is back at the top of the list of foods that can no longer reside in our house. Those ice cream drumstick things are a close second.

Any questions?

2008-07-23T16:21:00.003-05:00

I'm sitting here trying to decide what to write about today. Should I talk about how difficult my run was last night? The fact that my air conditioning was out for 2 days when it was 90 degrees outside? The fact that I'm trying to avoid a buffet of sweets which exists just a few feet from my desk?

Nope, I don't feel like talking about that stuff right now. So, if there's anything you'd like to know, or if there's a topic you'd like to see covered on Morgan Gets Thin, let me know!

Intuition FAIL

2008-07-21T15:41:00.003-05:00

The title of today's post is a shout-out to one of my favorite sites, the FAIL Blog. It has nothing to do with weight loss or fitness, but it makes me laugh. Be warned, it's not always safe for work.

I finished the Intuitive Eating book over the weekend, and now I find myself conflicted and confused on so many levels. I get the basic premise- by depriving ourselves and adopting the "diet mentality," we set ourselves up for binge eating and failure. Because of that, we should reject the diet mentality and allow ourselves to eat whatever we want. In theory, it makes perfect sense. In practice (at least for me), it's like skydiving without a parachute.

Here's the thing- as I was losing my excess weight, I really wasn't depriving myself. Sure, I ate less than the average person, and I often felt slightly hungry. I often craved things but didn't eat them immediately. I'd save it for my weekly cheat meal. Some may call that deprivation; I call it delayed gratification.

The book also assumes that the average person can eat just one cookie. Yeah, right. In what world does a person go to the store, buy some Pepperidge Farm Milanos, and then only eat one? Not in my world, that's for damn sure. Over the weekend, my Intuition told me I wanted Milanos, so I took its advice and bought some. Actually, Angie bought them for me, but that's not the point. I took one out of the container and savored it, then assessed my hunger. "More cookies, please," my Intuition said. Needless to say, the container was empty by the following day.

My Intuition also told me I wanted a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Up until now, peanut butter was on my short list of foods that were banned from our kitchen due to their knack for triggering my binges. According to the book, however, there should be no forbidden foods. Foods don't have inherent values like "good" or "bad," but we assign them values and make them more powerful than they should be. Yeah, that makes sense. So I got some and...well, you probably know where this is going.

For now, I need to find some kind of happy medium or compromise. I'm not trying to belittle myself by saying this, but if there's a box of cookies or a jar of peanut butter in my house, I'm going to eat the whole thing very rapidly. That's just something I know about myself. It's reality. So, I think I need to keep that stuff out of the house. However, if I'm out at Panera and really want a PB&J sandwich, I'll totally order one.

Like anything else, it's a learning process. I'm working on it!

Oops / 14 miler

2008-07-19T10:49:00.002-05:00

Yup, I gained 4 pounds this week. I was expecting a gain from all the fast food binges, but 4 pounds?! Oh well. I feel like this intuitive eating thing will lead me down a better road. The weight will normalize where it's meant to be. Maybe I'm not meant to be 150 pounds; perhaps 160 is my natural weight. As I go through the process of making peace with food and my body, the weight will work itself out.

In other news, I ran 14 miles this morning. That's the farthest I've ever gone. The course was mostly on hilly country roads. The hills were intense. My hips, butt, legs, knees, and feet are on fire. I'm in a lot of pain, but I'm also elated and exhilarated for my accomplishment. I'm pretty damn proud of myself, I must say. The people I run with are amazing, and they kept me going when I wanted to stop.

Screw the plan!

2008-07-18T10:10:00.004-05:00

Last night at the library, I picked up a book called Intuitive Eating, which discusses the ways in which so many of us are imprisoned by our attitudes towards food and our bodies. This is a topic I'm no stranger to. For over a year now, I've scrutinized almost every bite I've taken. Everything has been about being "on my plan." This scenario served its purpose, in that I lost my excess weight.

Losing weight has been an amazing, crazy, whirlwind experience. As the pounds came off, many of my problems also melted away. I got more energy, a new wardrobe, and self confidence. I can run and do push-ups. I look people in the eyes now.

I developed a whole new set of problems, too. I have a gripping, intense fear of gaining the weight back, which leads me to feel guilty when I eat something unhealthy. I've assigned so much value to food that I derive little enjoyment from eating, yet I think about food 24/7. Cookies, bad. Vegetables, good. I feel guilty for eating one cookie, so I eat four more. Even though I've lost 100 pounds, I still look in the mirror and see the things that are considered undesirable, rather than the awesome improvements.

I'm ready to have a positive opinion of my body for the first time in my life. I ready to think about something other than food for a change! I know a book won't have all the answers, but it's a start. As I was reading the first few chapters last night, many of the passages seemed as though they were written just for me.

So, I'm throwing "the plan" out the window. No more counting calories, no more cheat meals, no more guilt. I'll still log everything I eat so I can make sure I'm getting the basic nutrients I need for my training, but I'll leave the calories out of it. If I really want something unhealthy, I'll eat it without guilt. It's time to change.

Sequels suck

2008-07-17T09:53:00.004-05:00

I've fallen off the wagon so much this week that the wagon seems to no longer exist. There is the idea of the wagon, but its physical manifestation is nowhere to be found. It's so far gone in the distance that I can hardly see it.

Today I feel sick and disgusted with the way things are going. My pants are getting tighter. The size 10 jeans that I fit into for a fleeting and glorious two weeks now bring only two words to mind: muffin and top. I need to turn this around right now. Right this minute. This is not because I want to see a certain number on the scale, or a particular clothing size. It's because I feel terrible.

Last night I had a dream- a nightmare, really- that I was attending a family gathering. Everyone kept staring at me with a look of pity in their eyes. I'd see them whispering, then they'd abruptly stop when I'd get within earshot. Was my zipper down? Did I have bird shit on my forehead? Why were they looking at me like that?! I frantically searched for a mirror, and when I found one, I saw my former, fat self looking back at me. Every pound I'd worked so hard to get rid of was back- strapped to my belly in three massive rolls. My fingers looked like sausages, and the jawline that I'd once admired was obscured once again.

In horror movies, when you think the monster (or serial killer, or whatever) is finally dead, it always has to open its eyes for that one final scare. In my dream, Fat Morgan was the monster, and she was trying to kill me once again, because the damn bitch just won't seem to die.

Die, fat Morgan, die!

Thinking in the grey

2008-07-15T15:55:00.003-05:00

Two different people brought treats to work yesterday. Both of these individuals are very skilled bakers. One brought cookies, and the other made brownies. I did everything in my power to abstain. I concentrated so hard on avoiding the treats that I wound up stressing about it. By the time I got home, I just wanted to stuff myself. And I did.

However, there's a silver lining to this cloud. In the past, if I "messed up" at some point during the day, I'd think the whole day was screwed and it would be pointless to exercise. This time, I knew I had 4 miles to run. It wasn't just about burning the calories; it was more about getting the mileage in for my marathon training. So, I made myself get on the treadmill. I had such acid reflux from the crap I'd eaten earlier that I wanted to quit after 5 minutes, but I stuck it out and finished all 4 miles of the workout.

I know I didn't burn off the extra 1300 calories I ate after dinner last night, but I did feel very proud of myself for not succumbing to all-or-nothing thinking.

Hospital Hill, revisited

2008-07-12T13:33:00.002-05:00

When my alarm went off at 4:45 this morning, I wasn't exactly thrilled to get out of bed, but I also wasn't grumpy about it. After all, I only had to run 8 miles. No big deal when compared to what I've done recently, or what I'll be doing in the future.

I weighed in (down 1 lb. from last week!), ate a banana, and put on my Hospital Hill sweat-wicking t-shirt. I chose that particular shirt because today's route started and ended in the same area as the Hospital Hill run. Eerily, the temperature and humidity were about the same as they were that day, too.

When I got to the meet-up area, I noticed every bench in the park was occupied by a homeless person. When the coach of our group got out his bullhorn at 6:00 a.m. and started talking about the route, the folks on the benches stirred, angrily looking around for the source of the noise.

I started running with the 12 minute mile pace group. At one point, we saw a group of runners ahead, and all of them were standing around another runner. Something was wrong, and as we approached, I noticed there was a LOT of blood on the sidewalk. The poor guy had stepped on a nail or some glass, and was bleeding profusely. Someone was already on the phone with 911, and there were plenty of people staying with him, so our pace group continued on.

It's become clear that the 12 minute pace group is not fast enough for me, which makes me sad because I really like the people in the group. Still, I don't want to sell myself short and train too slowly. If I can finish faster without burning myself out, I definitely want to do that. Today, I ran ahead and caught up with the 11:40 group, then later I caught the 11:20 group. Next week, I may try to stay with them the whole time.

By the time it was all over, my face was the color of a tomato and I was dripping sweat. I felt great, though. This coming week, my mileage will be increasing. Bring it on, I say!

Caffeine

2008-07-11T08:34:00.002-05:00

For some unknown reason, I haven't had any caffeine this week. When I get to the office in the morning, it's typical for me to grab a cup of the swill that they keep on tap here and chug it down at my desk before I start dealing with customers. It gives me a nice little buzz and helps me get my "guard" up, or my defenses, or whatever it is that keeps me from crying when I talk to mean people.

On Monday, though, I didn't get any coffee. There was never a moment when I said to myself "I think I'll quit caffeine." It just sort of happened. Yeah, I'm a little tired, and I've gotten a headache or two, but there have been some good side effects as well. For one thing, I've been sleeping better. The big thing I've noticed is that my desire to binge at night has subsided a bit. It's still there sometimes, like Wednesday when I ate 3 bowls of cereal before bed, but overall it's been better this week. Is that because of the lack of caffeine? Maybe, maybe not.

This morning, a cup of coffee sounds really good, but I think I'll ride the caffeine-free wave a while longer and see where it takes me.

Memory lanes and new possibilities

2008-07-09T16:37:00.004-05:00

I took the afternoon off work today so I could go see a career counselor at the local community college I attended many years ago. As I drove by the various buildings I'd once occupied as a student, the memories came flooding back. I finally found a parking space and walked toward the student center. When I walked across the circle drive in front of the building, I realized that very spot had been the starting line of my very first 5K race, which made me smile.

I was 20 minutes early, so I wandered around the campus and reminisced a bit. Oh, there's the microbiology lab room where I spilled a vial of e. Coli all over my hands! And there's the classroom where I tried very hard to understand physics, and failed miserably. I was sitting at that cafeteria table when I learned a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. I aced a Western civilization final in that chair.

Lots of memories. It felt good to be there. After a while, I went to the career center and met with a counselor. I wasn't there long- maybe 20 minutes. Upon leaving, I wasn't any more confident about my future than I was before I arrived, but at least now I know where to start. My next project is to research a Master's degree in dietetics and nutrition.

UltraMarathon Man

2008-07-08T18:33:00.003-05:00

I wrote a little bit about Dean Karnazes in another post about ultra-endurance. In 2006, he ran 50 marathons in 50 states, in 50 consecutive days. Apparently, a documentary was made about it, and it's coming to a theater near you. Click here for the movie's web site and show times. There's a showing in the Kansas City area on Thursday, July 31st. I'll be there!

Here's the preview, if you're interested. Be sure to watch until the end.

Only 8 miles

2008-07-08T14:15:00.003-05:00

Before I say anything else, I'd like to apologize for the melodramatic and depressed nature of some of my recent posts. If you couldn't already tell, I've been struggling lately, and sometimes I feel like this blog is the best place to vent and organize my thoughts. However, I want to be an inspiration to those of you who also struggle with weight loss and weight maintenance. Despite my recent bummer posts, losing weight is a wonderful, life-enhancing, and healthy thing you can do for yourself. Please don't let my occasional negativity bring you down or deter you from your goals. I'm so incredibly happy I lost the amount of weight I did; so happy, in fact, that I sometimes freak out and worry it's all going to come back.

Enough about that. Moving on...

When I checked my training schedule for this week, I noticed that I'll be running substantially less than in the weeks before. I guess every 4 weeks, they throw in a "recovery week," in which you back off your mileage to let your body bounce back from all the wear-and-tear. When I was explaining it to someone at work, I actually heard these words come out of my mouth: "I only have to run 8 miles this Saturday." Um, excuse me? Only 8 miles? My inner couch potato wanted to punch my inner athlete for saying something so ludicrous, but then thought the better of it and continued eating cupcakes and watching reruns of The Golden Girls.

I don't get it

2008-07-05T20:41:00.005-05:00

When I was growing up, bedtime was an ordeal in our household. Every night, I'd put up a fight when it was time to separate from the world and be alone in my room. I wasn't afraid of the dark, and I wasn't scared of the Boogeyman. I just didn't want to be alone because it terrified me.

I almost didn't weigh myself on Saturday morning. Why? I guess I should confess I fell off the wagon multiple times last week. I got all my scheduled workouts in, but I ate more unhealthy food than I did during an average week when I was "fat Morgan." On Friday, I was so depressed that I spent most of the day in bed, which is something I haven't done in years. I tried to keep my thoughts neutral, so I pondered the spider webs in the corners of the room, and noticed the repetitive clicking of the ceiling fan. Every time I let my mind wander to food, or my slip-ups during the preceding days, I'd completely lose it. I was so scared.

I'm not sure what I'm so afraid of. Obviously, the idea of gaining weight freaks me out beyond belief. But why, exactly? Maybe I'm afraid of being judged by strangers and acquaintances. Or, perhaps I don't want to disappoint my parents, especially since it took so long to feel like they approved of me. Maybe I think that if I regain the weight, no one will love me and I'll be alone.

If my best friend were saying all this to me right now, I'd tell her she was being absolutely ridiculous, and she'd be loved whether she weighed 160 lbs. or 264 lbs. So why am I having such a hard time saying those very things to myself?

After much debate, I decided to go ahead and weigh myself. After all, there was no sense in ignoring the problem. I took a deep breath and prepared myself for a gain of at least 3 pounds, maybe more.

I'd lost a pound. I stepped on the scale a second, third, and fourth time, just to be sure. Still the same.

Currently, weight maintenance is a total enigma to me. I don't get it at all. I don't understand my body. I suppose part of this journey is getting to know myself again. I'm trying.

You will suffer intensely

2008-07-03T08:48:00.002-05:00

mas·och·ism - gratification gained from pain, deprivation, degradation, etc., inflicted or imposed on oneself, either as a result of one's own actions or the actions of others, esp. the tendency to seek this form of gratification.

Last night, the coach of my running group held a clinic for marathoner wannabes like myself. I arrived at the meeting place (a running store) early, a habit that I both pride myself on, and am annoyed by all at the same time. I milled around the store and looked at various GUs and shoes. I bumped into some ladies from my group and we chatted a bit.

When it was time for the meeting to start, the coach asked us all to say our names, the race we were training for, and any specific questions we had. One guy wanted to know what we would mentally and physically experience during the race. When it came time for the coach to answer this question, he said "You will suffer intensely." Rather than becoming afraid or apprehensive, I became giddy with excitement and anticipation. I can't wait for October 18th.

The idea of intense suffering, followed by glorious, raw emotion, is very appealing to me. I picture myself hitting mile 24, and the systems in my body start rebelling one by one. My stomach cramps up and my leg muscles start to numb. I hobble along like some zombie from a George Romero film. The simple distance to the next tree seems like miles. Eventually, I see the finish line in the distance and I'm instantly reanimated. I run, as gracefully as a first-time marathoner can, through the finish area, my arms raised in triumph, tears streaming down my face.

That's how I imagine it will be. That's how I hope it will be. I even hope for a little intense suffering. I'm not a masochist, or at least I don't think I am. I just think the light at the end of the tunnel will be even brighter if the tunnel is full of pain and feelings of insanity.

Yeah, maybe I'm a masochist.

Fighting, Part II

2008-06-30T22:00:00.003-05:00

When we last left our heroine, she was precariously perched at the edge of a potential chocolate chip cookie catastrophe. Did she do her planned workouts? Did she go to McDonald's and buy massive quantities of cookies?

DUH DUH DUH!

I did my weights and the 3 mile run, and I didn't get cookies. I thought about them the entire time I was on the treadmill and debated whether or not one cookie was worth the trip. The more I debated, the hungrier I got. I wound up eating two bowls of cereal and a sandwich- more calories than if I'd eaten the damn cookies in the first place. At least they were useful calories; there was fiber and protein and all that good stuff, and not just sugar and butter. But it was still irksome that I blew it like that.

In other news, I have a 5 mile run scheduled for tonight. Tomorrow, my running group is holding an informational meeting for first-time marathoners. Hopefully I'll get some new tips.

Fighting

2008-06-30T19:47:00.003-05:00

It's 7:47 pm. I finished my dinner over an hour ago. All I can think about right now is getting 3 chocolate chip cookies and a chocolate milk from McDonald's. Have you guys tried those things? The cookies aren't warm, but they somehow figured out a way to make the chocolate chips melty and gooey anyway. Pure evil.

When the craving hit me, I just said, "Oh no, not again." I stared at Angie with that look that I get. She knows exactly what the look means and doesn't need me to tell her that I want something decadent. I sat there and pouted for a bit, angry that the craving entered my mind in the first place, and wondering what would happen. I honestly didn't know if I would succumb to the craving or ride it out. I still don't know.

Angie informed me that the McDonald's cookies are 160 calories each. "That's not that bad," I replied.

It's now 8:06 pm and I still want to cruise through the drive through. However, I decided to put on my workout clothes and do a weight training video. After that, I'll see how I feel about running 3 miles. If that goes well, maybe I'll go to McDonald's and get one cookie. Maybe.

To be continued...

Happy Monday

2008-06-30T08:29:00.002-05:00

It's Monday again. Mondays are normally a day I dread for the obvious reasons. The joy of the weekend is over, and I have to go back to work. I look forward to the day when I can say "I get to go to work" rather than "I have to." I realize very few people really love their jobs, but I want to be among those who do.

My food choices weren't quite as bad as they normally are on weekends. I definitely over-indulged at dinner both Saturday and Sunday nights. I ate frozen yogurt both days, as well as peanut MNMs and popcorn at the movies. Still, there were no real binges.

You may have noticed I'm up 2 pounds from last week. My clothes are getting a little snug and I'm not feeling as energetic as I have in the past. I'm sure this is due to a combination of factors. I've obviously been eating more on the weekends than I should, but I'm baby-stepping my way back to reality. It seems like each weekend is progressively less destructive. Also, I increased my caloric intake by a couple hundred calories in an effort to better fuel myself for all this running, as well as to stave off binges. I think it's helping, but it's really too soon to tell. If I continue to gain weight (or, more importantly, feel like my clothes are getting tighter) I'll have to reevaluate my diet.

I had my second group run on Saturday, and I ran 12 miles instead of the 10 I'd planned. That's almost half the distance of a marathon! My feet, legs, and butt were on fire by the time I was done, but it was good pain. It was pain that told me I'd worked hard. I still can't believe how much faster the time goes by when you're running with a group. It's amazing.

Ultra Endurance

2008-06-27T10:23:00.004-05:00

Every year in July, up to 90 people gather in Death Valley to run what is frequently described as the world's most difficult footrace, the Badwater Ultramarathon. If you're crazy enough to want to run this 135-mile race in 120+ degree heat, you can't just fill out a registration form and expect to be signed up. Potential participants must be veterans of ultra-endurance racing. Every applicant is scrutinized to see if he or she has what it takes to compete. And, if you do get in, the rules require that you bring a support crew with you to make sure you don't die somewhere along the way.

The notion of the ultra athleticism is something that I only recently became aware of. While "normal" running events like marathons get tons of media attention, many people have never heard of ultra marathons. I was at the local discount bookstore a few weeks ago when I came across a book called Ultramarathon Man: Confessions of an All-Night Runner. I bought the book and read it at every opportunity. I only put it down when I had to work, sleep, or run. Its author, Dean Karnazes, is apparently human, although one might argue that after reading about his exploits. This guy frequently runs 50-100 mile races, and has won Badwater. His most recent stunt was to complete 50 marathons in 50 states, in 50 consecutive days. The man has 6% body fat. Yup, I think he might be a cyborg.

My little 26.2 mile jaunt in October is chump change compared to what these athletes go through. The world of ultra endurance is so intriguing to me that I can't stop learning about it. I rented a documentary about Badwater called Running on the Sun, and was blown away. One runner had so many problems with his toenails that he just decided to get them surgically removed. Another runner started having hallucinations of other runners that weren't really there. I covered my eyes more than once. I also cried a lot (big shocker, I know).

The more I learn about these events, the more crazy and masochistic I think these people are- and the more I want to do an ultra marathon myself. For now, however, I'll have to settle for running 10 miles with my training group tomorrow. Hopefully my toenails and mental acumen will remain intact.

Decisions, decisions

2008-06-26T10:43:00.004-05:00

Thanks to all your comments, I'm now convinced I need a new driver's license. As soon as I have the money (I'm broke from paying my shrink), I'll be in line at the DMV.

Today I also decided to increase my caloric intake. The last time I did this, which was in February, I was extremely reluctant and nervous. I was worried I'd stop losing- or worse- gain. Still, the pounds kept coming off, albeit very slowly.

Ideally, I'd love to lose another 10 pounds to get to 150. With marathon training, however, that probably won't happen. I've decided it's okay for me to go into maintenance mode until late October. I've gone to countless web sites and entered my information into their calculators, and I'm definitely not eating enough. This could explain why I binge every few days. I've felt really hungry lately, but sadly, I'm never 100% sure if my hunger is real or imagined.

My hope is that my desire to binge will subside if I give my body a little more fuel each day. Just like last time, I'm nervous. I'll probably see a gain on the scale for a week or two, then it should even out.

Expensive healing / driver's license

2008-06-25T13:44:00.004-05:00

As you may already know, I've been seeing a therapist for my issues with food and weight. After only three sessions, I know it's helping. I'm having fewer binges than before, which is great. Getting the bill, however... not so great. I've happily been paying my $25 copay each visit, knowing that the remainder of the fee would be submitted to my insurance. I knew I'd have to pay out-of-pocket to satisfy my deductible, but I was shocked to open my bill and see that I owe almost $300.00. Eeeesh.

I really like my therapist and want to continue, but I may have to start going once a month rather than every two weeks.

On a completely different note, I lost my driver's license the other day. I looked in my wallet and the spot where it normally sits was empty. I got really panicky, because I had no idea where I'd left it. The day they took my photo for it, I probably weighed at least 260 lbs. Of course, at the time I lied and said I was 200, so that's the weight that appears on my license. As I thought more about that, I was kind of glad I'd misplaced it. What a great excuse to go get a new one! And, this time, I could proudly say I weigh 160 lbs. and have it be the truth for once. Then I started pondering what outfit I could wear and practicing my smile, which I think always looks strange in photos.

At that very moment, I got a phone call from my bank. Apparently I'd left my license in the tube at the drive through. Crap.

Routine

2008-06-23T13:49:00.002-05:00

In my opinion, having a routine is one of the essential ingredients in a weight loss success story. Honestly, the fewer choices I have to make about food on any given day, the better. Monday through Friday is very routine for me. Even though I'm not exactly happy at my job, I can pretty much expect the same things to occur each day I spend in my cubicle, which is a good thing:

8:00-10:30: Reply to mean emails, avoid treat table
10:30: Eat a snack
10:35-12:00: Reply to mean emails, avoid treat table
12:00-1:00: Go home, eat lunch
1:00-2:30: Reply to mean emails, avoid treat table
2:30: Eat a snack
2:35 -4:00: Reply to mean emails, avoid treat table
4:00: Eat a snack
4:05-5:00: Reply to mean emails, avoid treat table

Weekends throw me off. Although we make tentative plans, there is no set schedule to tell me when and what to eat. Everything seems haphazard and spur of the moment, even though it's not. It's just because I'm out of my routine that things seem crazy. As you may guess, this poses a problem.

On Saturdays, I do a long run, which makes me feel ravenous the rest of the day. Out of a sense of entitlement and also real, physical hunger, I allow myself to eat more on Saturdays. This usually means we'll go get a huge salad and the world's best cupcake at The Mixx. It never ends there, though. Saturday night there was the Chinese buffet. Sunday, we went to our favorite Indian buffet. Oh, and let's not forget two trips to TCBY, the bag of Reese's Pieces at the movies, and the spicy Italian sub and giant cookie I ate for dinner last night.

Needless to say, I spent much of the weekend in a self-induced calorie coma. It doesn't feel good when I do this. I enjoyed the salad and cupcake, but after that, everything was a blur. As we drove to the Chinese buffet on Saturday night, I felt like I was about to steal money from my grandma to buy drugs or something. It was a feeling of pre-regret, like I knew I was about to do something really, really wrong. I did it anyway.

Today, my body is trying to rid itself of all the toxins I fed it. "Monday Detox" is becoming a regular occurrence. This can't continue. While I understand the need to have an occasional indulgence, this doesn't mean I need to go completely nuts all weekend long. My goal for next weekend will be to avoid buffets. Baby steps.

This is a learning process, and even though I've screwed up countless times, I bounce back and start again. I haven't binged in a week, which is a pretty long time for me. The "it's not in here" note on the refrigerator is still working its magic.

It's not in here

2008-06-19T16:42:00.003-05:00

A few days ago, I taped a big sign to the refrigerator door that reads "It's not in here." The sign is large and bold, and it catches my eye the moment I walk in the kitchen. Since I put that sign up, I haven't had a binge. Granted, that was only Monday, but given my track record lately, I'm pretty happy. There have been moments, especially in the evenings when I'm packing snacks for the following day, that I've wanted to get out the cereal and yogurt and go to town. "It's not in here" has stopped me, time and time again.

Delaying gratification is something I've never been good at. I'm an only child, and although I'd like to think I wasn't a brat growing up (some may disagree), I will be the first to admit I was spoiled. I'm not trying to blame my parents for my problems, but I do think this played a role in my present eating dilemma. When there's something delicious to eat in my general vicinity (like today someone brought PIE to work- dammit), it's a constant argument between two selves. The rational part of me says it's not the last pie that will ever cross my path. The primal, instinctual part of me kicks in and tells me I must inhale said pie until the pie is no more. Whichever "self" wins the battle is dependent upon my stress level and whatever else is going on that day.

Today, the pie remained safe from my grasp. Sure, I wanted a piece pretty damn badly, but the rational part of me won. There will be other pies. I can wait.

The 411

2008-06-18T14:04:00.003-05:00

It's official. I just registered for the Kansas City Marathon. According to the confirmation email I just received, my bib number will be 411. Clearly, they understand that I have all the information everyone wants to know, so they just went ahead and bestowed that very appropriate bib number. Good for them for recognizing the obvious.

Now, back to the real world...

Holy crap. I just signed up for a freaking marathon. Am I insane? Not only am I planning on running 26.2 miles without being chased by a bear or a policeman, but I'm paying to do it?! Obviously, I'm mentally ill. Now that there's been an exchange of currency and they know my name and address, I must admit I'm a little apprehensive. Will I be ready? Will I hit the Wall? Will it hurt?

All I can do is my best. There is a lot of work to do between now and October. I'm glad I have the support of my loved ones, the guidance of a renowned running group, and a lighter body to carry me through. I can do this!

Be my Dorothy Boyd

2008-06-17T15:07:00.005-05:00

It's only Tuesday, and I'm already planning next week's menu. Bored of our usual selections, I looked through my food journal to see what I was eating one year ago.

As I scrolled through the food logs of diet past, I noticed how disciplined I was back then. We hardly did any cheat meals, for fear of totally falling off the wagon and going back to the old lifestyle. Even when we did eat at a restaurant, we meticulously researched the calories and worked the meal into our plan. My binges occurred maybe once a month; these days, it's 2-3 times per week. Granted, my workouts back then were tamer. I also had the tenacity, resolve, and empowerment that comes with a brand new decision to change one's life.

My food logs in recent months tell a different tale.

Sure, I still count my calories and log all my food and exercise, but my logs are littered with cheat meals and binges. That tenacity to eat as healthfully as possible seems to be waning. Everything's good in the exercise department, so that's something. Still, I'm a believer that diet is 80% of weight loss.

I need to rekindle that spark and drive that got me to this point. If there's ever a time I've needed a kick in the pants, it's now. Now is the moment to reaffirm my goals and recommit to evolving into a healthier person. My new mission statement: I WILL FIGURE THIS OUT!

So, in the words of Jerry Maguire:

Who's coming with me? Who's coming with me?

Mourning fat Morgan

2008-06-16T15:08:00.004-05:00

After running 10 miles on Saturday, I hobbled into my therapist's office for a head shrinking session. There was one incident I was particularly motivated to discuss with her, and that incident was the total and utter binge that occurred on Wednesday, June 11th. This was a binge that left me physically ill, morally wasted, and questioning the worth of my life. It was a bad day, as you may remember from my earlier post. By the way, that post brought in more comments than I'd ever gotten, and I'd like to thank you all for your support. It truly helps to hear from you, so please keep the comments coming.

My therapist asked me how I felt emotionally after the binge. I think she expected me to say I felt guilty and angry for having no self control. I really felt none of that, though. The feeling I had most was total despair.

"You're grieving the death of your former self," she told me, without missing a beat.

I'll be the first to admit that sounds pretty cheesy and psycho-babble-y. Still, a light bulb went off brighter than ever before. The old me is gone, and I miss her. I miss being able to eat a half gallon of ice cream and not feel bad about it. I miss the days when I didn't have to worry about getting a workout in, or how I'd cope with a pizza party at my office.

She explained that many people who go through dramatic weight loss experience a mourning period, in which they grieve the loss of their former fat selves. There's no quick way through it. Just as though a family member has died, I need to go through the gamut of emotions and deal with it.

Angie suggested having a funeral in which I bury my old fat pants and play Taps. A good idea in theory, but I don't have a shovel or a bugle. So, I guess I'll just have to say goodbye to fat Morgan in my own way- the occasional binge, followed by blogging and crying in my cubicle.

In other news, I've opted to run the Lewis & Clark Half Marathon on September 14th as a warm-up to the KC Marathon. After successfully running 10 miles the other day, the idea of running 13.1 miles seems a lot less daunting.

My first 10-miler!

2008-06-14T09:36:00.002-05:00

I just ran 10 miles. That's just crazy to me. The craziest part is that it was fun and it went by in no time at all.

Today was my first run with my new training group. When embarking on my marathon training quest, at first I was resigned to run mile after mile in solitude. Then, one day it dawned on me that would really suck. Also, I didn't want to carry a water bottle around on these long weekend runs. The local group I joined has about 400 members, but they are broken down into smaller pace groups. Each week, there's a new route with aid stations set up every 2 miles.

I arrived at today's location at about 6:45 a.m. I was nervous on multiple levels, but that quickly evaporated because the second I walked up to the starting area, the 12 minute mile group was about to head out. I decided to go with that pace group. Yeah, I'm a much faster runner than that, but the coach said to start out conservatively. The goal of these long runs is to increase your endurance, not your speed.

Normally, I'm not a very outgoing person. I'm not the type to walk up to a stranger and say "Hi, my name's Morgan. What's yours?" But today, I thought it would be in my best interest to put myself out there, so I did. I introduced myself to another new member, and the two of us wound up running the next 10 miles together. We talked the entire way, about family, running, life, and cooking. She asked me how I'd gotten into running, and I gave her some background on my weight loss. When you're not paying very much attention to how much running can suck, the time really flies by.

After the run, there was a pancake breakfast where I met even more people. As we ate our pancakes and sausage, we dished about last weekend's Hospital Hill run and how difficult it was. When I shared my finish time with the group, they quickly informed me I was running in the wrong pace group and I needed to be with the 11 minute mile folks, so I'll give that a try next time.

So, yay for running 10 miles AND enjoying myself simultaneously. Woot! Oh, and double woot for getting back down to 159 lbs. today.