Thanks, and goodbye

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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...