I wonder if Fatty realized he get 701 responses (and counting) on his Lose 10 pounds Christmas offer?
Tomorrow marks the end of Courtney’s 100 day challenge. I joined the challenge and set my goals as:
1. Lose 12 pounds -Status gained 1
2. Complete 500 miles – Status unknown. I quit keeping track.
3. Improve my good eating consistency. Status – I was eating well???
I feel like Bridget Jones.
Right, here we go. A new challenge, a new me. Resolution #1 ugg- will obviously lose 20 lbs. I just hope Mark Darcy doesn’t mind the new arse.
“I like a woman with an arse that you can park a bike in and balance a pint of beer on.” -Mark Darcy
And men wonder what we see in Mr. Darcy.
There are times when you just push through the run. There are times when you get on the treadmill and run till Biggest Loser is over. Then there are the runs that make you get up everyday just to run again.
Not only do I like to run but I like to travel too. I love when I get a chance to combine the two together. It’s like multi-tasking in the best way possible. Who wouldn’t strive to be a better multi-tasker if involved your favorite activities?
I woke up with a free morning in the quaint town of Winchester, VA. My feet were restless after 6 hours of travel related sitting the night before. I needed to bring an end to a two day running draught. A few months previously, I had stopped for lunch in Winchester so I knew that I wanted to see more.
Eagle Heights Presbyterian Church
Winchester provided quite the scenery. My only complaint would be the brick surfaced sidewalks. Many decades of earth settlement created rolling surfaces. Really, it wasn’t a problem for my VFFs other than I spent more time watching the ground than I would have liked. My barefoot strengthened ankles handled it just fine.
I live in the mid-west because it is close to family. If I could live anywhere and be able to visit family frequently by flue powder or a port key then I would live somewhere on the east coast. I love the connection to history and structures that have stood the test of time. I enjoy the coziness of close-knit quarters. (which in the mid-west just feels like overcrowded, over-developed land)
Civil War Court House and Museum
On paper, my run was nothing to brag about. I ran short of 3 miles in 40 some minutes but, when my rabbit jumped out with his pocket watch, I was disappointed to have to head back. A friend recently completed her first marathon and said afterward that she thought runner’s high was a bunch of horse hockey. I have to disagree. I was slow; it was short; but that son of a run had me floating on air. I’m practically getting a contact high just writing about it.
-Get on your feet and fly.
They went from here
Then ended up here
Actually, those fries didn’t end there. They ended up on my thighs. Those Five Guys hanging out on the east coast are interferring with my 100 day challenge. But, I didn’t seem to mind so much. Can you tell from the picture that those fries are ACTUALLY cooked? Yep, crispy as you get without being burnt. Those Five Guys (http://www.fiveguys.com/home.aspx) are onto something.
Last night I had dinner with some people I may be doing business with. They were telling me a story about a woman they work with who is 60ish and has beaten cancer three times.
Three times and she’s only 60. Which led me to think anybody’s time could come today, my time could come today. Which led me to remember how my dad said after my mom passed away from Pancreatic cancer that he felt like he was living on borrowed time. I feel like I am too. Which led me to think about how it has been ten years since she fought that super sucky cancer. I hate that it has been almost ten years since I last spoke to my mom. I hate all the things that we have missed out on and will miss out on because of fricken cancer.
It makes me mad. It makes me sad.
When Jeanne would make you a card it would almost always include a roses are red poem. Like this:
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Yes, I said
Happy Birthday to you
(not an actual Jeanne poem)
Professor’s Weight Loss Secret:Junk Food
The Key? Moderation.
Moderation: 1. The state of being moderate. 2. Action of making something moderate: the limiting, controlling, or restricting of something so that it becomes or remains moderate.
Synonyms: restraint, control, self-control, temperance, fairness, balance, reasonableness, equability.
I can eat junk food, I just have to have control?
Really? No kidding? (Actually, I’m leading you astray because I know that moderation is THE KEY. It’s like a silver bullet.)
A silver bullet that blows a gigantic hole right in my sanity. I start out moderately eating out of the vending machine only once a day for four days in a row. When the fifth day creeps into my psyche. Hot diggity dog! What do I get to eat today?! Next you’ll find me licking the selection buttons for any crumbs left behind by the previous addict. I’ll stand in line at McDonald’s for a hot chicken sandwich right before going into a free lunch. Then I’ll go home and slam every cupboard until I find the last hidden piece of chocolate with the white “chocolate gone bad” crust on it. I’ll wake up the next day gleeful knowing I’ll get another chance at “moderate” junk food. I’ll justify it because all I have to do is learn moderation!
Truthfully, the only foods I eat in moderation are VEGETABLES!
Professor, you can keep your silver bullet and your key. I bet you wonder why people eat when they are no longer hungry too.
Saturday morning was a beautiful day for a VFF run through the town. I haven’t done that in months. I was really looking forward to it until a half mile into the run when I realized that I might not be quite over strep yet. Only ran 2 miles plus a block or two with several walking breaks. I’ll be on the road tomorrow, only not literally.
What a delight to find it is Thesaurus Thursday again already. Over use of the Thesaurus can make a passage overwhelming to read but, hey, it’s my bloggy writing fun.
I want to be fast.
I want to be expeditious.
I desiderate to soar without leaving the loam.
I will amble only if it dénouements in a run.
Every treadmill run starts with the perpetual debate. Should I or should I not go for the distance? (is it just me or does everyone hear the Field of Dreams voice whispering “Go the Distance”?) Going the distance is not the problem. Going the distance in the amount of time I have because I couldn’t get my depressed ass out of bed is the problem. Stepping on the treadmill initiates deliberation over the merits of incline work and tempo runs.
Truth is, I’m a distance hog. Trying to get as far as I can in the little time I leave myself usually wins out. Of course, it usually backfires as well.
This morning, my time was constrained more than typical, resulting in a speed interval decision to get distance rapidly. My “recovery” rate was 7 mph. Crazy, full tilt intervals of 8 mph for a minute and 9 mph for a minute. Only, after the first high speed intervals, I had to punch 3 mph because I nearly got razed when the plastic magazine holder broke as I leaned heavily on it while frenziedly reducing the speed to recovery. My resulting speed average for that interval was 6.6 mph. Hmmm, guess I should have stuck with a tempo run? Needless to say, the rest of my speed intervals were not that aggressive.
Sophie attempted to stare out the window but was blocked by a fog. She pressed the outside of her fist against the glass wiping the fog away with a circular motion. She was not surprised to see that it was gloomy. She was gloomy too.
Sophie tried to find the source of her gloominess. She had trouble deciphering if it stemmed from one large thing or a bunch of little things blended together resembling one thing.
With the fog temporarily replaced by trailing water droplets, Sophie could see her reflection in the glass. She was confused about what she saw in the glass. People she knew described her using phrases and characteristics that were foreign to her own thinking. Did that mean that these people didn’t know her or did that mean that she didn’t know herself?