Saturday, November 24, 2012
My grandchildren's first run on sliding hill this season
Friday, November 23, 2012
It was a last day decision, and I recruited one of my daughters and her family to run with me It was an awesome time. The little one in the stroller ran the kiddie run and really impressed the crowd.
The kiddie race was an out and back; my grandson was the youngest so when the "big kids" turned around, I turned him around too and the crowd was cheering him on. He was huffing and puffing. He ran so well; I see a future running buddy.
My son-in-law pushed the stroller and came in 28:?? (This was his first run after knee surgery), I came in at 34:19, my daughter 34:54 and granddaughter 34:55. On the way home, I heard "I can see this becoming a family tradition."
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
I had a really bad eating day yesterday. I was traveling and being in the car seems to be a trigger for junk food. Yes, junk food called my name and I answered. I know better and yet I continue to eat the foods that I know are not good for me. But, come on, we stopped at the Chocolate shop, you know the place where the "good stuff" is.
Fortunately, they did not have my favorites so I settled for something else, which means I did not buy as much as I normally would have. I would not have stopped if I was traveling solo, but my husband wanted to stop. OK, so I could place the blame on my husband; if it weren't for him I would not have stopped and purchased the goodies and then ate them on the way home.
But the reality is, I knew better and I did it anyway. I am responsible for my own actions and my choices that I make. Every time I eat something that I know I shouldn't it is because I had a thought, then I made a decision and then I decided to take an action. I know this, I understand this and I have to live with the decision I made and now it is time to move forward. Today is a new day, a new beginning, new choices.
I wish my husband could accept this also. My husband needs to lose weight, a lot of weight; but he seems to think that I am responsible for his diet. He has some physical issues and has a lot of pain so it is difficult for him to move. But since we have different starting times, I usually let him make his own breakfast.
I have discussed both McDougall's Program and Furhman's Eat to Live with him and he keeps telling me he wants to do that style of eating. But his actions do not follow his words. The other morning he was frying bacon and eggs for his breakfast and telling me at the same time how he wants to go on a diet like the one we did a few years ago (Jonny Bowden Bootcamp [similar to the first 2 weeks of Atkins]) but substitute beans for the animal products.
Really? He wants to do this while frying bacon and eggs? I asked him why he isn't he doing it? He told me it was because I do not make all of his meals so he will eat whatever. I told him not to lay it on me and he responded with the same words, Well, don't lay it on me."
What? Is he trying to guilt me into dieting for him? This is not the first time he has told me that he does not eat well because I do not prepare all of his meals for him. If he was 5 years old I could accept that responsibility, but he is not and so I do not.
This reminds me of an incident that happened many years ago: We were living an a single wide mobile home and the master bedroom was just past a small hallway where the washer and dryer were kept. I had just cleaned the floor with Mop 'n Glo so the floor was sticky wet. He wanted to come to the bedroom and was going to jump, as in "take a flying leap" .
~~OMG!!!~~~~ I am laughing so hard right now. I have not thought of this for years and it is just as funny now as it was then.
Back to the story... I told him that the distance was too far and he'd never make it. He was confident that he could ... So, he jumped, hit the wet floor, his feet went out from underneath him and he slid into the bedroom, taking the door frame with him. He is laying on the floor, eyes wide open and he looked at me and said, "I can't believe you let me do that."
The part of this story that is not funny is that he blamed me for his decision to jump. What makes a person not accept responsibility for their actions?
Thursday, November 15, 2012
I decided to go to the gym first thing this morning. First, that is, after I had my coffee and breakfast. As I was deciding what to wear, I pulled out my Nike 2009 Human Race T-shirt. 2009! - That was the year I first started seriously running or jogging, whatever you want to call it.
That is 3 years I stuck with something for more than a month. Sometimes I get frustrated because I cannot seem to get with an eating program that will be health supporting. I feel like a failure in this area. But, just looking at the date on that shirt tells me that I do stick with something. I have just been more motivated with my running than I have with my eating.
But even with running I have had my ups and downs. There are times when I just do not get out there for a run, but I always seem to get back to doing it. I was encouraged by the fact that I am still sticking with it even though I am not perfect with my routines. I just keep plodding along and if I have a set back, when I get back into it and recognize that I may have lost some speed and endurance then make a plan to work my way back to the level that I was at before the break.
I wish my eating was more like my running because I seem to be off more than on with my food plan. I get so frustrated sometimes with my lack of self-control. It seems I cannot make that commitment to just do it. However, having just returned from the gym and an hour on the treadmill, I realize that it is not over yet. If I want to be a better runner, I have to be a better eater.
I have been tracking my food intake these past few days and boy, do I eat a lot, bread especially. Oh, I love bread. At least I can see where I need to make improvements. If it is not too late, to make a long story short, I am so glad that I was given that Nike T-shirt, because it serves as a visual reminder of what I have accomplished these past three years.
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