I only have one long sleeve shirt on today. This, and the promise of above 70 temperatures for the weekend, gives me great hope that spring might finally be here to stay.

My columbines also serve as kindling for that hope.

I could stare at these beauties all day.

Here are three things I think everyone who is working to improve their health should do:

Make a really good chart. If you’re a big nerd and you love excel, I’ll send you mine (Justin’s in-house tech support not included). If not, write down your weight every week, or your measurements every couple of months, or how far you walk, or what you eat every day. Whatever is important to you, whatever you are trying to improve, write it down. Looking at those numbers and watching them change over time is incredibly encouraging.

Take pictures. I have been putting this off for over a year. You don’t have to show them to anyone, just take them every few months (I’m going to take mine every 10 weeks) and tuck them away somewhere. Wear approximately the same thing in each picture (ladies, a sports bra and shorts works really well, guys, shorts with no shirt) so that you won’t die if they happen to pop up on your computer but you can still see your body as it is, not hidden under loose clothing. Remember, the after picture means nothing without a before shot.

Get a physical with full labs. Most insurance plans cover an annual physical. You need to find out where you stand. Getting a baseline for blood pressure, weight, cholesterol, blood sugar and all that other good stuff is very helpful. My last physical was in June 2005, six months after Andrew was born. At that time my weight was recorded at 253.3, I didn’t have full blood work done so I don’t know how those numbers have changed, but I’m sure they have. In addition to establishing a baseline, it is important to make sure that everything is working the way it should be.

That’s my advice, now it’s up to you to do something with it.

I spent the better part of the last two days in bed. Fever. Chills. Headache. Sore throat. Coughing. I’ve got it all.

It may be impossible to overstate how much I hate being sick. I realize that everyone else hates it too, but I’m enough of a drama queen to believe that I hate it most.

I stayed home from my meeting last night so I don’t know what the official scale said, my new scale (new scale! yay!) said 197.6 which seems reasonably close to what I would expect.

I think I’m feeling a little better today. I made it to Fred Meyer and the library without falling over, so there must be hope.

Now, since Andrew is sleeping, I am going to take a nap.

From my

Coffee-Grinding

Fire-Truck-Driving

Flower-Gathering

Wheel-Washing

Goofy-Grinning

Garden-Helping

Little Buggy.

It’s good to be the Mommy.

I finally finished The Emotionally Healthy Church by Peter Scazzaro.

This book was well-described, here and here, by my friend, Jen.

Head over to the book list to read some of my thoughts.

I just finished Mayflower by Nathaniel Philbrick. Head over to the book list to find out more.

We didn’t have our weigh-in last night, the group was canceled due to a scheduling conflict.

I can’t say I am too disappointed. I’ve been to four large parties in the past two weeks, and while there were many healthy options available and I did okay at all of them, it was a lot of food that I didn’t have control over.

And then there is the Cinnamon Toast Crunch that was on sale which I do have control over and I should have exerted that control by not buying it. But I didn’t. Damn you, little bits of cinnamon goodness! Damn you sweet tooth!

The scale at the gym is up a couple of pounds, which may or may not mean anything.

This is a low mileage training week, so it’s a good time to get back on track with the food. Parenthetically, those long runs are not actually all that helpful. I have to eat a lot on those days so that I don’t keel over and it is hard to get back on track after a 2500+ calorie day.

Also, I’m feeling better about the whole running thing after yesterday’s post. Maybe I just needed to let a bit of The Crazy out in a controlled setting.

There’s a danger in locker rooms, and it’s not just athlete’s foot.

A falsely intimate community is created by sweating next to a person for 45 minutes every morning and then changing next to that same person. Guards are let down. Trust is given too freely. Things that should stay hidden are revealed.

Last week my locker room buddy (I truthfully don’t know her name) dropped a bomb in the midst of our morning small talk, “This is the first time I’ve been a member of a gym in years. I forgot how obsessive I can get. I don’t think my family is very happy with me, but I can’t stop.”

“Yeah,” I laughed, “you should try distance running.”

And, standing there in the locker room, I told her everything - how tired I was, how much I miss my friends, how I felt trapped by my goals and intentions. I told her that I was counting the days to the marathon, not out of excitement but because then I could stop without feeling like a failure. I told her about how my knee hurts and how scared I am of being injured because, as much as I hate it sometimes, I don’t know what I would do if I couldn’t run. I told her how I feel like running is just another addiction and how I tired I am of being addicted to things.

I told her things that I hadn’t told Justin, things that I hadn’t told my best friend, things that I hadn’t really told myself.

It scared the crap out of me.

I don’t know what I’m going to do. I haven’t made any decisions yet. Finishing what I start is something vitally important to me, and I’m not sure that I am mentally strong enough to deal with failing to meet my goals. Sometimes feats of physical strength are easier than feats of mental strength.

I don’t know what I’m going to do. I love to run. I love who I am as a runner. I don’t want to reinvent myself again. I’m hoping that this is just the pendulum swinging to the other extreme and if I can just hold on long enough it will settle in the middle and I can run, sanely.

I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I think I’ll keep my mouth shut in the locker room.

It’s too dangerous.

Today was my longest run in preparation for the 1/2 marathon (five weeks from tomorrow!).

After a week of Seattle-level nice weather, today started out cloudy and cold. We decided to do a point-to-point run from Kent to Tukwila. If you’re not from around here and those names mean nothing to you, picture two suburbs that used to be some of the most fertile farmland in the world, spread them about 12-miles apart and connect them with a meandering river and flat trail. As runs go, this one is pretty sweet.

I was decked out in my race-day clothes, including my lucky underwear. We parked one car at the north end and drove south to the start.

I wasn’t looking forward to this run at all. I’ve been tired and stressed all week. I’m having twinges of knee pain that worry me - a lot. I didn’t sleep well last night and the return of the cold weather makes me want to curl up and die. This is where having a running buddy helps immensely. If I didn’t know that someone was waiting for me, there is no way I would have left the house this morning.

But leave the house I did, and, like every other time I lace up my shoes and go running, I’m glad for it after the first ten minutes.

We ended up running just over 11 miles in just under two hours. We ran, talking about how far we’d come on this run and as runners in general. We talked about everyday life, Lance Armstrong and our plans for the future. We ran quietly, without music, and listened to our breathing and the sounds of our feet, and then we talked some more. Towards the end we decided we needed that music so we started singing, Eminem and then Queen. It was goofy, but it helped.

It was a hard run, but a good one.

I’ve heard that the last section, three miles in a 1/2 marathon and 6 miles in the full marathon are the hardest. It’s when your body is done and your mind must make the decision to keep going. It’s why, when training for those races, you rarely run those miles. They are not about your body, they are about your will.

I feel ready for the race. Ready to see the fruits of my training. Ready to push my body to the edge and then let go, trusting my will to carry me through. These next few weeks are going to be tough. I have one more 10-mile training run and then I really start to taper back. I have to discipline myself to stay strong while allowing my body to rest, heal and prepare. I have to cast myself as my friend, not my enemy, and make choices that are good for my body. I have to listen to myself and take the time to take good care.

I’m nervous. I’m excited. I’m scared. I’m ready.

Anyone who has been in the same room with Justin or myself for any period of time knows that we often cross the line between well-informed and insufferable know-it-all.

Whether by nature or nurture, Andrew has become quite the expert on a variety of topics.

Fortunately, he doesn’t get nearly so offended when we laugh at his mistakes.

For example, this conversation about Filmore -

“Mommy, did you know that Filmore is a bookswagon van?”

“A Volkswagon van?”

“No Mommy. You are a little bit confused. Filmore is a bookswagon because he is full of little, tiny books.”

196.9.*

During my many stints on Weight Watchers, I always mocked the people who called the one hundred pound range one-derland. I told myself that I hated cheesy word-plays and that I, as a sophisticated and refined adult, was far above such tacky behavior.

Upon further review, I find that, like the Mariners ball girls, high school cheerleaders and homecoming royalty, one-derland is something that I mocked in hopes of convincing myself, and those around me, that I could care less. Funny how much we care about those silly things.

So, yeah, I’m calling it one-derland. Being tacky never felt so right.

In other news, and this may be the single greatest sentence I have ever written, it seems I am losing weight a little too quickly (my goal is 1-2 lbs per week) which means that I get to up my calories a tiny bit. Woo Hooo!

*Assuming the scale is accurate, which I’m trying not to think about too much.

I just got Eat This, Not That! from the library.

Head over to the book page to see what I thought.

One of the more entertaining parts of my OCD occurs when I fixate on something that seems wrong when I know it should be right. When I had to inventory all the greeting cards at the bookstore one night, I became convinced that Dad was spelled wrong on some of the cards. I ended up staying at the store until 3am, trying to figure out which ones were right and which ones were wrong. At various times in my life, I become obsessed with clocks, making sure they are all set to the same time and completely freaking out when I came across a clock that differs from the ones that I thought were right. Even now, after medication and therapy, I can get myself pretty worked up if I think too hard about the clock issue.

The point? I get a little crazy when I believe there is a RIGHT answer and I can’t find it.

Enter, the scale.

The one at my house is utterly useless. It is at least 8 lbs off. I avoid standing on it as much as I can. The one at the doctor’s office? I know it should be right, but I’m not there very often, so I can’t be sure. The one at the gym? It balances at zero, but both Justin and I have noticed random unexplainable fluctuations. And the one at my weight loss meeting last night? Well, I stood on it three times in a row and got three different numbers.

(The middle number was 200.4, so that’s what is going on my graph. Yay for me!)

It’s enough to bring out The Crazy in anyone, and more than enough to drive me over the edge.

Using some of the coping skills developed over the years, I am trying to talk myself down from complete insanity. All the scales show change. It’s just a number. With the exception of the one at home, they are within 2-3lbs of each other and that could be explained by the clothes you are wearing or the time of day at which you weighed yourself.

I get it, and I’ll be okay.

I’m just going to go lie down and wait for my nervous twitch to stop.

After handing out the lunch endorsement a few months ago, I am ready to stamp my approval on something else: Mortality.

Not so much in the sense of death (to which I remain unequivocally opposed) but in the sense of knowing yourself and your limits, understanding your humanity and walking that fine line between a breakthrough and a breakdown.*

Marathoning For Mortals by John “The Penguin” Bingham and Coach Jenny Hadfield. I’ve read it cover to cover twice now in preparation for Seattle (and in hopes of actually enjoying training for NODM - June 8 is approaching fast). Each time I come away inspired and motivated, not only to run more but to see the changes that running can bring in other parts of my life.

“You already have everything you need to be a long-distance athlete. It’s mind-set - not miles - that separates those who do from those who dream. … You see, once you decide to run or walk further than the 10k (6.2 miles), your quest centers much more on tenacity than talent.”

Running not only strengthens my body, it strengthens my mind. I used to have an unending list of things that I can not do. Many of those things seem ludicrous now, a change I attribute directly to overcoming my mental blocks about running.

“The recipe for success includes equal amounts of physical and mental strength. In every long-distance race, your body eventually gets tired and your mind must take over.
At that moment when your body begins to tire, you must make the conscious decision to think your way to the finish. Mental strength is the ability to focus on the task at hand and move your body as efficiently as possible to the final destination. Mental fitness is what will carry you past your training miles in to the physical unknown.”

The first time I read this book, I agreed with some of the critics. I felt like this program was lowering the bar or taking some of the mystique away from distance running. Then I realized that was my pride talking. I didn’t want to be a mortal, I wanted to be superwoman. I didn’t want to believe that anyone could run a marathon, in truth, I wanted running to be unaccessible so that I could chalk it up as something I can do that most people I know can’t. Throughout the book, they convinced me that, for mortals, the joy of competing is not beating other people but competing against yourself, your assumptions, your expectations, your best efforts. This book pushed me to be a better pusher, to encourage everyone I know to go out and do the thing you think you cannot do.

“We believe that excellence is not a relative term. What is excellent for you has nothing to do with what is excellent for someone else. There may be absolute standards of measurement to determine finishing order. In that setting, it’s true that someone crosses the finish line first and someone crosses it last. But that doesn’t mean that second place is the first loser.
You are going to discover your personal best somewhere during the training or during the race. There will come a point when you know that you are accomplishing the most that your body, your mind and your will have to offer. There will come a point when what you believe about yourself equals what is true about yourself.”

I think that some of the dissolution I was feeling before I read this book was due to losing perspective. I was disappointed because I couldn’t run as fast as person X or as long as person Y. Frustration blinded me to the reality that I am not competing against them, I am competing against myself, my demons, my hang-ups and, as long as I keep going, that is a competition I can win.

*Shamelessly copied that phrase from the book. It’s so true.

April 19, 2008, endurance run on the schedule. As the endurance runs get longer, they get harder on many levels. Not only am I running for a long time, I am concentrating on keeping my heart rate in the lower range and working to develop better control, pacing myself and making sure that I am running slower at the beginning and faster at the end.

Thinking about numbers and negative splits is mentally draining, I can’t just zone out and run, I have to keep focused. I was fine for the first six miles. And then, at almost the same moment, my ipod battery ran out and La Nina - that saucy minx - reared her ugly head and started dumping sleet on me.

Sleet! In April!

It was bad enough to read 37 degrees on the thermometer, but the sleet and the abrupt end of my soundtrack was too much. I spent the remaining 3.5 miles raging against weather patterns and my inability to remember to plug in the charger.

It was cold. It was wet. These April showers better be worth it.

It’s not that I haven’t been reading lately, it’s just that I haven’t been adding books to the book list.

I’ve got them now though:
London by Edward Rutherfurd
Marathoning For Mortals by John “The Penguin” Bingham and Coach Jenny Hadfield
Runner’s World: Complete Book of Woman’s Running by Dagney Scott
Marathon Training for Dummies by Tere Stouffer Drenth.

Go over to the Book List and find out more.

I love chili.

I got the base of this fantastic recipe years ago and have stuck with it through a variety of changes - substituting lentils for the meat works well, using ketchup instead of tomato sauce does not. (It was late at night, in Bellingham. I couldn’t get to the store.) The original recipe calls for equal parts ground beef and ground sausage, I made it this time with turkey.

It’s good. It’s good for you. It’s major comfort food that really works.

Check out My Favorite Chili!

… that I did not expect to do on April 15, 2008.

1. Scrape ice. Enough is enough. Winter is done. Spring is here. I should not need a coat anymore.

2. Clean up poop. Why can’t it go in the toilet? Pee goes in the toilet all day, every day. Why not poop?

3. Report that I weighed in at 205.1 last night. I knew last week was bad. I knew I had been slacking. I knew that a good weekend doesn’t make up for a bad week. But, still, I hoped…

These things may seem unrelated; they are, to an extent. But, they are connected through my desire to control all things, thus ensuring my comfort and ease.

I want to control my world rather than controlling myself.

I want to control my son rather than controlling myself.

I want to control my food rather than controlling myself.

Think about that - it’s the key to the connection between these three things. I want to control the things around me. I do not want to engage in the hard work of controlling me. My goal is to control the circumstances of my life so that I can create the comfort/ease/pseudo-freedom I believe I deserve.

Self-control. It comes in many forms - maturity, obedience, discipline, humility, submission - but they all boil down to one thing. What do you do when left to your own devices? Elisabeth Elliot says it well, “Whose are you?” she asks. Do I live for my own ease or something greater? Do I live for my own comfort or for something more? Am I willing to give up my own rights for the rights of another? Am I willing to give up my own perception of freedom for the promise of something better?

Too often I am not.

For all my success, I continue to fight this battle. And just so there is no misrepresentation (amidst all the running joy) let me say this: I’m good at running and working out. I’m good at gardening and playing outside. I’m good at reading. I’m good at charts and graphs and all things nerdy. But, when all is said and done, I am not good at doing anything that doesn’t serve my interests of comfort and convenience, including walking away from the refrigerator.

I am always one for making extravagant new plans.

I like anticipating, charting and projecting. I like plans because they make me feel like I am in control.

The problem is that I am, often, not in control. Add to that an almost extraordinary measure of inflexibility and you have a stellar recipe for complete failure - at least, that’s how I used to see it.

As I grow up, I am learning to allow for more changes. I am learning that even the best plans can get better, and that a change in plans does not mean that the whole thing needs to get crumpled up and tossed away.

This year, I planned to be superwoman. I was going to get strong and lean and fast and fit, all in 6-10 hours a week.

My fitness plan for this year started out with training for a half-marathon and grew to include a full marathon - because I am nothing if not compulsive - as well as mastering a very difficult strength-training workout and still walking around and playing with Andrew for the rest of the day.

It has come to my attention that my body can not do this.

I have spent the better part of the last few months in some stage of sickness, ache, and general, unrelenting, pervasive fatigue. I’m not injured - I’m just tired. I have tried to push through it and now I am going to step back and re-evaluate my plan.

John Bingham and Jenny Hadfield, in Marathoning For Mortals, explain it this way:

You’ll learn that sometimes enthusiasm is your biggest asset, and at other times it is your greatest liability. You’ll learn that sometimes less is more, and often less is plenty. You’ll learn that your mind can trick your body and that your body is limited more by your imagination than by your biomechanics.

They go on to say:

Your greatest danger is not the course of the distance. Your greatest danger may be your unwillingness both to accept the difficulty of the challenge before you and, as a result, to refuse to adjust your strategy, goals, objectives, and even your definition of success.

I’m hard-headed, but I’m learning. Right now, I’m learning that I can’t do it all. The running is hurting my strength training and the strength training is killing my runs.

Right now I want to be a runner. I want to run my 1/2 marathon and my fun races this summer and then I want to train my ass off for Seattle.

This means taking better care of my body, laying off the weights and adding another day of rest to my schedule. As of right now, the plan is to focus more on upper body and core weights two times a week and let the running take care of my legs. I am going to add a yoga class once a week to get some more dedicated stretching time and I am going to learn to actually rest when the schedule says rest.

This means taking my nutrition to the next level, making sure I am taking in the right ratio of protein, fat and carbs. Justin built a lovely addition to my excel sheet that calculates the percentages of these things in my daily food intake. Turns out that the percentage of carbs and fat that pass my lips each day, even in the context of the right amount of calories, is obscene. This will change.

This means focus and discipline. I need to learn how to pace myself. I need to slow down out of the gate so that I have the energy to go longer distances. One of my biggest fears is starting a race strong and not finishing. I need to practice better control when I run.

All of these goals are counter-intuitive for me, but all of them will leave lasting positive changes on my life.

After the marathon (c’mon, you know you want to!), I am going to take 2-3 months off from distance running. I will still run, for fun and sanity, but I will run shorter distances and running days will be the easy ones. During this time I will focus on strength training, both because I want to and in preparation for next year’s races. During this time I will learn to do push-ups the right way, I will attempt to do a pull up, I will do a ridiculous amount of squats and burpees and mountain climbers and inverted rows. I will leave a pool of sweat at the gym. I will be sore, but I will be strong.

It seems like a long way off, but I need to have a plan. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some running to do.

We rewarded ourselves for all of Justin’s overtime by buying a new camera.

Justin took this picture at the park last night, convincing me that this was a good investment.