Week 2 Results

This week was just. . .bad.

But it's over and as Anne of Green Gables says, "Tomorrow is fresh with no mistakes in it."

Despite my poor choices this week (if you check out the food and exercise tabs they are glaringly full of blankness) and icky sinus issues, I did make progress. I set a goal for myself to be down to 200 lb by the end of January. With just a few more days left, if I work hard and make better decisions this week, I think I can do it.

I'm also hoping that by the end of next week I should have a treadmill, which will be a godsend in this grody-bitterly-cold-poison air. And I can start some real Ragnar training! One of the things that pulled me out of my slump was an email from W with our leg assignments and a to-do list. I'm a planner and to-do lister. Details and lists keep me focused and remind me what I'm working for. And then the best part of all: the check off!!!! Fellow listers will know exactly what I'm talking about.

A shout out to all of you who take the time to comment: THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!!! I know I've got many silent supporters and you are very appreciated, but those comments remind me that I am not alone in my struggles, I have options, and I am accountable. So, please keep them coming!

Ready for the results?

202.8

Down 1 pound this week.

Down 7.2 pounds total.

Need to lose 2.8 pounds to make my goal.

I commit to 30 minutes of exercise Monday-Friday this coming week. No matter how crappy I feel. No matter how much I don't want to do it.

Hold me to it, friends.

Saboteurs, Nemeses, and Archenemies! Oh, My!

In the coming days, weeks, and months there will be things that come up that could potentially derail my success. Scratch that. Not "potentially." It is inevitible.

In no particular order, here are a few:

Saboteur #1: My job. I teach, and anyone who spends long periods of time with children knows a few things, and don't get me wrong- I absolutely ADORE my class this year- best group I've had in years. However. Children are frustrating at times. Children are delightful most of the time. Children are exhausting energy-suckers ALL THE TIME.

I love the children. The children love me. Because the children love me, they want to share everything with me. EVERYTHING. Stories, cute drawings, handfuls of sweaty-palmed skittles from their lunches, "jokes" that they start over five times and end in unintelligible giggles, family secrets/plots/intrigues. . .

And the germs. SO MANY GERMS!!!!!!!! The children make me sick. Literally. I think I'm allergic to one or all of them. Seriously. But it's okay. I still love the children.

Then there are all the non-teaching duties: grading, meetings, parent communication, committee assignments.

And the 45-minute commute. An hour and a half of my day stuck in the car.

By the time I get home I am physically, emotionally, and mentally depleted. The desire to cook a healthy dinner or exercise is somewhat lacking.

Saboteur #2: Foooooooooooooooooooood. I love delicious food. I hate non-delicious food. I am a convenience junkie. The good thing is, there are so many delicious foods that I love that are also healthy for me. But they take time. Forethought. Trips to the grocery store. So many times convenience trumps the health and deliciocity factors. Much to the detriment to my waistline and general well-being. If I choose something delicious and convenient, it's usually not healthy. If I choose something healthy and convenient, it's usually not delicious. And if it's not delicious I go in search of more food to satisfy my discriminating palate. <--- I jest. By "discriminating" palate I simply mean that my tastebuds must dance a happy dance. A flavor-full happy dance. Then there is the brain-washing voodoo aspect of food. I've worked hard to recognize and manage my emotional eating over the past several years. I only occaisionally stress or sad or happy eat. But I mindlessly zombie eat. And portion control? Webster's defines control as the following: a restraining or directing influence over. Oh, yeah. I definitely have control. I restrain the non-delicious food from gathering on my plate and directly influence large amounts of deliciousness on to it instead.

Saboteur #3:

This is my BKF (Best Kitten Friend), Professor Minerva McGonagall. She's nothing like her namesake. Maybe I should have named her Lady Voldemort. No, that wouldn't really fit. Because I'm sure that she did what she did out of some misguided sense of love. I think.

She Tonya Harding-ed my toe. With a mug.

This little piggy went, "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!!!!! &@#$@!!!!!! FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY!!!"

She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named became The Cat Who Lived, only because she could run faster than. . .well, because she could run.

Of course it could have been just an accident. Or maybe she thought I could use some extra rest and decided to force the issue by incapacitating me. Or perhaps it was a cry for help, a need for more bonding time. With me laid up we were definitely getting in more snuggle time.

However, as the days of recovery wore on, I began to suspect an ulterior, even more self-serving motive. This happened just as I was about to launch my exercise campaign. Coincidence? No.

Suddenly, the realization dawned on me.

Kitten loves my fat rolls.

The squishy softness is perfect for optimal kneading of the claws. The perfect venue for napping, complete with cushiony headrests.

Kitten wants me fat.

Kitten will go to any lengths.

But forewarned is forearmed. Vigilance is my watchword, kitten.

Prepare to say goodbye to the fat rolls, BKF. Their days are numbered.

Drum Roll Please. . .

Keeping it short and sweet tonight:

So, after a week of healthier eating and getting off my butt, the results are in.

Last Saturday my starting weight was at my personal all-time high of 210.

This Saturday I am down to 203.8.

That would be a loss of 6.2 pounds.

While I am VERY happy about these results, I am aware of a few things:

1) These first ten pounds are going to go the fastest, because they were put on the fastest and by things I did in excess that I normally don't do: drink gallons of diet coke, eat large quantities of sugary, fatty Christmas treats, lay in my bed sleeping the day away and watching hour after hour after hour of Netflix.

2) A good percentage of the weight lost this week is probably water weight.

3) Because of 1 and 2, I need to keep perspective as I weigh myself as the weeks go on. I need to feel just as good about a 1 pound or 1/2 pound loss. Or no loss, but no gain.

On a separate note:

In case you were wondering where I've been tracking my food and exercise, there are tabs at the top of the blog. Nothing fancy.

Help! I'm on the floor exercising and I can't get up. . .

Today was one of those days.

I didn't sleep well. Woke up at 2:30 a.m. and couldn't get back to sleep until 4:30. 5:30 came waaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyy too soon. Stuffy head. Felt groggy all day. Kids were stir-crazy and irritible. Everything was just harder and took longer. I was dreading exercise time. I just wanted to crawl into bed and Netflix the night away.

I got home and ate half my healthy dinner. I put on my exercise clothes. Grudgingly. Good thing, because I had an unexpected visitor. During my exercise time. Dang it? But my unexpected visitor was kind of awesome and restored some of my good humor. So I went downstairs to start my video. Then I realized I forgot to put on my shoes. I went back upstairs and put them on. It took forever, because the kitten thought it would be fun to Tarzan-swing on the laces. I got back downstairs and then realized I had taken the video upstairs with me when I went to go get my shoes (don't even ask me why). Back up the stairs. Back down the stairs. Good humor gone, but I was determined to finish what I had started. The dog followed me down.

I start the exercise video with the warm up. This is good. I can do this. I can do hard things.

Then the floor exercises began. I'm mid-crunch when a MASSIVE Golden Retriever is suddenly nose-to-nose with me.

"Go away, Charlie."

Instead, Charlie starts pawing at me and whining.

"Go AWAY, Charlie."

More pawing and whining and then. . .my arm is in his mouth and he's trying to drag me to safety.

Apparently he thought I had collapsed and was dying. I don't know, maybe he sensed how evil crunches truly are. . .

Here's my fat arm with purple Charlie rescue marks:

Here's to a better tomorrow. Goodnight.

Monday's Are Dumb

I purposely didn't start my journey on a Monday.

Because Monday's are dumb. You see, I suffer from crippling Weekend Seperation Anxiety. And it's always at its worst on Mondays. Monday morning = weekend mourning. I keep thinking of all the sleep I slept, and the quality time with the fur children, and the whole not working thing. They were good times. . .and suddenly. . .it's all over.

And if I screw up on a Monday it seems like the whole week is shot, so I might as well wait until next Monday.

I know, I know. . .Monday has an irrational psychological hold on me. But I know I'm not alone.

So, my brilliant plan is to start on Tuesday. You know, because Tuesdays are okay. Because I've had time to go through the first 4 stages of grief, denial, anger, bargaining, depression and by the time Tuesday rolls around, I've reached the final stage: acceptance.

AND Tuesday means there are only 3 more days till Friday.

So here's the plan for this week:

1) I've already been working on the food end of things. I'll be tracking my food/nutrition here, but more on that later.

2)What I struggle with THE MOST is the exercise part and this is where I need your help/support/encouragement/nagging/threatening.

Due to illness and a fondness for extreme lounging, the past six weeks have been rather. . .sedentary. I need to get my body ready to get in shape. So I'm going to start with strengthening my core and working on my balance. Seriously people, I've got the body of an 80-year old right now.

For the rest of the week my goal is to log at least 30 minutes of exercise.I've got a great video I'll do Tuesday-Saturday. I always get good results from it and I know it will prep my body for more intense workouts. For enquiring minds, it's Kathy Ireland Body Specifics. She's not annoying and it's broken into 12 minute segments. I can do anything for 12 minutes. Well, except run. YET.

Here's what I need from you:

If I haven't logged my exercise by 8:30 each night, please flood my FB page/blog comments with concerned queries such as, "Are you dead?! Because if you're not, why haven't you logged your exercise?"

Thank you and good night. :)

Hello.

Hi, my name is Amanda and I am obese.

Obese. Such an ugly word. But I chose it on purpose. It makes me uncomfortable. There is no postive association with the word. I no longer want this label. So out it goes.

I stepped on the scale this morning and the number made me sick.

210

In my best WWF voice (and in my head because talking out loud to yourself is just crazy) I yelled, "YOU ARE GOING DOOOOOOOOWWWWNNN!!!!!"

My awesome friend, W, has invited me to be a part of her Wasatch Back Ragnar Relay team in June. Perfect. I can use this as my kickstart to greatness. You see, it includes all the things that motivate me:

1) Peer pressure. I don't want to let W down. Not that she would ever, ever, ever pass judgement. It's just that she's kind of a hero of mine. I've followed her journey as a runner and she inspires me. (W, if you're reading this, I totally blog stalked you for, like, a year and a half. I hope you're not too creeped out and we can still be friends).

2) Cool stuff. I want that cool Ragnar sticker to put on my car window as a status symbol. Call me shallow. Actually, don't. This is my journey, so shut it.

3) I had to fork over $124. As God as my witness, I cannot throw that kind of money away. I am committed. There is no way I am backing out. I will get my money's worth and complete this race or die trying. Which brings me to my next motivator:

4) I don't want to die. Since I'm not backing out, I've got to train for this baby. Really train. I've done 5ks, 10ks, and even an accidental 13k. However, you know you're not a serious runner when you have to open your jacket and flash your race bib to fellow runners who ask, "Uhh. . .are you guys in this race?" Just because my sister and I were stopping to take awesome posed pictures. . .of us running.

The truth is, I typically don't run for extended periods unless I am being chased. And that just really doesn't happen often. Or at all. Hence the fact I'm in horrible shape right now.


And that leads me to why I've started this blog.

I need a forum to log my training, chart my progress, whine, complain, and shout from the rooftops when I only eat one chocolate chip cookie instead of six. Because this is not about giving up the things I love. It's about making better choices. And if you want to follow along and cheer me on or tell me to stop whining and take the dog for a walk, consider yourself invited.

So, here I go. . .