Tuesday, September 16, 2014
I did pretty good on my diet yesterday. Breakfast was bacon, homemade sourdough pancakes, and homemade blackberry jam (I don't use much sugar in my jam). I had a ridiculously large apple for a morning snack, and I noshed on figs and almonds most of the day. Lunch was a serving of home-canned chicken (unsalted). Dinner was mashed turnips with 1/4 cup of plain yogurt and about 1/4 cup of blue cheese crumbles, with home-grown beans. (The yogurt is similar enough in flavor to sour cream, and the blue cheese nicely compliments the turnips' tang.) I had half of one of The Hubs' beers, and treated myself to a small serving of shortbread. The shortbread was the only thing on the list that's on my "danger" list, but a couple of small cookies is okay for a treat.
That put me at just over 2000 calories for the day, 262 gm of carbohydrate (a little low), 76 gm of protein (right on target), and 33% of my calories from fat - that's too high. But I'm not going to stress of having too much fat when most of the fat came from the almonds I ate.
Yesterday there was a donut box in the break room. It was from The Daily Donut. I'm not a big fan of donuts, but The Daily Donut makes an incredible donut. The best I've ever eaten. I was very pleased that I was not tempted to nibble on any of the donuts. Today, there was a strawberry-rhubarb pie - apparently homemade - in the break room. It hasn't called my name.
I'm kind of on the same track today. Breakfast was pretty much the same, except that I had an egg instead of the jam. (My egg had two yolks. The Hubs insisted that's lucky.) The figs are gone, but I had an apple and another big handful of almonds. Lunch was ham (relatively low in fat) and swiss cheese made with 2% milk on homemade bread. I did indulge in a Zone Perfect bar (I'm not into the low-carb thing - I eat those because they're TASTY!). My afternoon snack was a up of fat-free yogurt with a half-cup of granola. And 3/4 of an ounce of dark chocolate.
If I can keep my calorie intake around 2000 calories a day, I'm doing pretty good. I know a lot of women stick with less that 1500 calories a day, but I can't imagine that. It happens - usually when I'm sick or too busy to eat - but I cannot maintain that. And I'd lose weight quicker, but it would most likely come right back.
The most curious thing is that I'm not craving things I normally do. I'm not sure why my mind is suddenly content to eat clean, but I'm going to embrace it as long as it lasts. I'm hopeful this is a good start. I'm ready to start Matt Fitzgerald's Racing Weight Quick Start. I haven't been to the gym in weeks - close to a month! - but it's time.
So I'm cheering myself. Climbing a mountain starts by taking one step, and then another, and then another. So get walking!
Thursday, September 11, 2014
I'm a gardener and an outdoor-activity enthusiast. While a lot of people view the coming winter with sadness, I revel in it. Fall sliding into winter means the nature is slowing down and preparing to rest. It means my garden stops producing more cucumbers than we can eat and soon we don't have to worry about mowing the lawn. The change of seasons is just that: not a death, not an end, but a chance to rest and reflect.
So it occurred to me that perhaps my recent crabby mood is an emotional winter. I've been too busy to do things I want to do. I can't run, and the pool was closed for annual maintenance the last few weeks. Maybe I need a little down time and rest. Like the ground that rests and absorbs the winter's snow in preparation for the crazy bust of life come spring, my body and spirit will heal. My foot will forgive me the horrendous abuses I subjected it to over the spring and summer.
I'm hopeful that's what this is, and I'm equally hopeful that I'll spring back to life after a few weeks' (and for my foot, months) rest. I'd planned to not run until the new year. Once we're back from our hiking trip in early October, I'll get back to a structured training schedule. For now though, I will relax. I will walk in the woods and enjoy it rather than watching my heart rate. I will ride with the joy a child who's received her first bike rather than stressing over intervals. The swim will still make me miserable, but I'm going to lower my expectations and just do laps until I'm done rather than counting and quantifying.
So I embrace you, Winter. I will welcome your slower pace and un-frantic nature. I will appreciate you for what you are, rather than trying to impose my will upon you.
Just one thing I ask - don't let make me fat like you usually do. K Thx Bai.
Tuesday, September 02, 2014
Few readers would guess this, but I was a punk rocker in my youth. One of my favorite bands - and these guys are still touring - was Stiff Little Fingers. One of their songs was directly aimed at "star culture" and fans' tendency to view their idols as, well, idols. The lyric that comes to mind quickest is "You think you're nobody, and we have all the fun, but no one's a nobody - everyone is someone. Be what you are."
Through social media, I know a lot of triathletes and multi-sport people, like a lot my SparkPeeps. And I am very aware of what so many of them have accomplished. And I can't help it: I'm jealous. I see women who outweigh me by 50+ pounds getting podium spots at triathlons. They can actually run. They swim with ease. They crush me on the bike, my favorite event. And I hate them.
Not really. But I am ashamed that my reaction is to whine, to avoid social media, to snark (silently).
I think this stems from the very thing that keeps me going: I am a good beginner, and I rarely continue doing something I suck at. I am enjoying the challenge of multi-sport, because it is that rare thing I've continued to do even though I suck. But the fact that I suck means I'm going to have to continue to be content just to finish.
I keep telling myself that I'll get on that podium. I'll come in third in an event in which there are more than three women in my age group. I'll climb up from the bottom of the leaderboard. But I might not. I might just have to accept that I'm always going to suck.
And I know how dumb, how selfish, how childish it is to resent others' successes. What I'm doing is not remarkable. I haven't overcome hellish abuse, or a physical disability, or an eating disorder. I'm just a fat, middle-aged woman.
I'm kind of searching for a point in this downer of a blog post. Maybe it's that we each have our own reasons for putting ourselves through the insanity of being a multi-sport athlete. I have to accept I won't get any accolades for what I'm doing beyond the "Good for you!" my friends and colleagues gift me with. So many of my SparkPeeps have told me I inspire them, which surprises me because of how unremarkable I am; I appreciate that, because it's a kind of gift, too. But what it all comes down to is that my motivation has to reside entirely within me: I'm not getting fitter to save my life, or to set a good example for my non-existent children, or to honor a fallen comrade. I'm just doing it because I refuse to let this beast beat me.
Be what you are.
Tuesday, August 26, 2014
About nine miles into my ride home, I was suddenly HUNGRY. As in /bold font HUNGRY\. Not the usual I-can-smell-what-people-are-cooking-and-it
ing-nearly-1000-calories-on-this-ride hungry, but a deep, gnawing hunger. I carry a couple of energy gel packets with me as emergencies for myself or others, but I didn't want to eat one because I was headed straight home rather than going out on a long training ride.
Then the Inner Coach pointed out that I was five miles from home, with one little climb (just up to the interstate bridge deck over the Columbia River - not much of a climb, but it's more fun going down it than up!) and then the little grade from the river to the house. That's twenty minutes worth or riding. Eat the damned gel, moron. So I did.
I must have really needed it, because the last time I ate that flavor I thought "ew - not my favorite." This time I thought, "OMG this is the most delicious thing I've ever tasted!" And although the climb from the river to the house is a 1-2% - still a lot more fun to go down than up! - given how "fresh" my legs felt when I got there, I suspect I would have been in misery if I hadn't eaten that gel.
The reason I'm glad it happened is that I now know what my body feels like when it's fixing to bonk. And it shows me the importance of eating something 60-90 minutes before I ride home unless I'm headed straight home (that's only about ten miles).
I normally plan that snack, but my plan got derailed today. A woman who works in another office but with whom I work frequently was chatting with my legal assistant. She'd made some cake, and she was very proud of how it turned out. My legal assistant says, "Bring us some - Kim and I love cake." Kim does not love cake. Apparently this cake is called "better than sex" cake. My legal assistant asked her if it was. The young woman who made the cake is an observant LDS, and she's not married; she replied, "I wouldn't know." (I didn't overhear the conversation, but I can picture her laughing when she said it. Like most LDS I've known, she doesn't get too worked up about stupid things we "gentiles" say.)
So she delivers this cake to me, and I could kill my legal assistant. Hi, remember me, the person who is training for an Olympic-distance triathlon? The person who wants to drop another ten pounds of fat before spring so she can run Bloomsday next May? I really am not that crazy about cake, but I kind of have to eat some because this woman, who I like and really enjoy working with, is really proud of this cake (even if she doesn't know if it can live up to its name). And my legal assistant has chronic pancreatitis, so eating a piece of this cake could put her in the hospital, and I have a trial to prep for. (I'm not that selfish; I can tell when she's in a lot of pain and I feel bad for her when it happens. Someone else can assist with trial prep.) So I eat the cake.
Eating this cake at 2:30 means I am not thinking about food at 3:30, which is when I need to have my pre-ride snack. So I don't, and then I nearly bonk on my ride home. Lesson learned. Next time, I will thank the person, and let them know I will eat it later, when it will fit into my snack time. And then I will remind my legal assistant that I am not that fond of cake.
Oh, and the cake was pretty good, but it was not better than sex.
Tuesday, August 26, 2014
So, here it is. No edits. Not photo-shopping out my flabby upper arms. I'm pretty happy with this one, because it was a "grit-your-teeth-and-never-say-die" race. I'm proud of myself for not quitting when I wanted to, for pushing through the suckiness.
I cannot express how grateful I am that I have yet to get a DNF. That day will come. I hope I will be as feisty and determined when that happens - and I hope The Hubs is prepared for the full-on emotional meltdown that will come when I have to make the decision to abandon. But for now - touch wood - that day has not come.
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