Monday, February 27, 2012


Color me kerflummoxed.

Outside of scale weight, I've been using the "Navy formula" -- a circumference-based method -- to determine my body fat percentage. And according to the Navy formula, I've been right around 27% for the past six months or so. It's not awesome, but it's within the range of healthy. It gives me room to try to improve my fitness level, certainly, but it's not a terrible number all things considered.

Out of rank curiosity (and apparently no small amount of masochism), I thought I'd go for a different type of body fat percentage analysis, so I booked an appointment to have my body composition tested in a "Bod Pod". The Bod Pod deals with air displacement rather than water displacement, but is considered to be fairly accurate.

Since my numbers have been consistent with the Navy formula, I figured I'd probably hit around what I'd been calculating. Nope. According to the Bod Pod, I'm at 33.6% body fat, which means I'm officially "skinny obese".

At least I am by that measurement.

After sleeping on it and fretting far more than I would have thought, I can't see how this is accurate because honestly there is nowhere on me for 46 pounds of fat to be lurking. My waist is right at 30 inches, well below the 35" threshold for abdominal measurements that indicate "skinny obesity". I exercise, including resistance training as well as cardio. I'm not one of those people who is just genetically gifted and never has to pay attention to food or activity level... so the results are really counter-intuitive to me and contrary to much of the reading I've done on the subject (most of which, admittedly, took place last night -- nothing inspires like hearing you're still out of shape, apparently).

After reading more about the Bod Pod I did see that the system operator is a factor in testing as well as is the clothing worn. It's possible the readings were artificially inflated because my ginormous hair (humidity is not my friend) refused to compress itself neatly in the "swim cap" which was really more of a flexible nylon cloth cap and ended up holding my hair more in the style of a shower cap than a tight swim cap, and the non-underwire sports bra I was wearing certainly wasn't as compressive as I'd have liked (no other option at that time). So it's possible if I go back with a real swim cap purchased on my own as opposed to the one supplied with the testing and work to find a sports bra without underwires that does a better job with compression (unfortunately very challenging due to my specific shape), that I will get a different result.

Or maybe not. I don't know. I did get a two-analysis package so I'll likely go back again in a few months, making the corrections I've mentioned. But since time will have passed, it will be difficult to determine what specifically will account for any improvement.

Skinny obese my happy ass...

Thursday, February 23, 2012

I Am Officially the Mother of a Teenager

The child has always tried to bite off more than he can chew. Happy 13th birthday, Elder :)

In other news, 5:00 AM, 40 minutes, 10.7 miles WITH Tabata intervals, thankyouverymuch. And I'm having my body fat percentage tested on Sunday, which should be entertaining.

Have a great weekend, everyone!

Coming to Terms

5:00 AM, 40 minutes, 10.5 miles

Well, at least I'm getting pretty good at hopping back on the old "wake up at 5" train. And this whole posting almost daily thing gives me some accountability which doesn't suck either.

Norma had a great post yesterday about exercise, and it's one I need to nail firmly into my brain (in fact, when I went back to grab that link I saw she's emailed me but I'm going to post this before reading the email, just for intellectual honesty's sake). She opened with an awesome quote from The Angry Trainer that I'm also going to hijack here:

"...there’s a fine line between exercising to improve your health and fitness and working out too much which then becomes detrimental. The simple truth is that exercise is a replacement for the natural activity we should be getting. But we’ve turned exercise into a way of changing how our bodies look when truthfully it should be about improving how we function." Alfonso Moretti, The Angry Trainer

Doh!! You know, I kind of knew this, but I didn't know it until I saw it put right out there put it together with what Norma was saying too.

I think I just had a "click" moment. I love those. Read her entry. Go now, do it. Then come back.

Now my big thing is I need to let go of my goal weight. For years and years, my goal weight has been 130. It's not the bottom of my healthy weight range (that's between 121 and 123, depending on the chart you read), it's not at the top (159), it's just a nice, lower-middle ground. Gives me some wiggle-room, so to speak. Plus, being able to say I've lost 70 pounds = awesome. Yes, there was definitely some ego tied up in there.

But looking at the past several months, it's just not realistic. I may see 135 again, but I don't think I'll ever see 130, and I'm... getting okay with that. I wouldn't say I'm fine with it yet, but I'm getting there. I don't need to have lost seventy pounds to have been successful at losing weight. I'm at a healthy weight and have been at one for years. I've been working to find the right place, and I think I'm there food and exercise-wise.

I like what I eat. It's easy, it's mostly healthy (you will pry my Breyers out of my cold, dead, vanilla-scented fingers), and I don't spend the day gnawing my desk in frustration and starvation. As for the exercise, I can't say I'm in love with it yet, but I'm finding more to appreciate about it. Since moving to the mornings I get it done and out of the way. I start my days with a feeling of accomplishment, rather than going home wondering just how I'm going to fit everything in. That's a good thing. Plus I also have some rather obnoxious genetic predispositions to arthritis and so forth that, with care, I can structure my workouts to somewhat mitigate the impact of heredity.

So. Right now, I hereby declare that I'm done. I'm not "dieting" in the sense that I'm restricting my calories in order to lose weight. I'm not working out to the point of injury (remember those awesome bilateral stress fractures a couple of years back? Yeah, that was fun!), I've got cardio my body can function with and even with the limitations of my Stupid Knee I've got a decent resistance program going as well.

I'm also declaring my official weight as "139-ish". And that's... okay-ish.

For now, it'll do.

Wednesday, February 22, 2012


I was so exhausted last night that I climbed into bed about 8:30. Now granted, I didn't fall asleep until a bit after 9:00 because the boys needed me to stay up to put them to bed, but still... it was early. My body hurt, my eyes were heavy, it was time.

So why-oh-why, please tell me, did I wake up at one-freaking-forty-five this morning? And then proceed to not fall back to sleep until about 2:55, just five minutes before Choreboy got home from closing shift? And then I stayed awake again until sometime after 4:00!

Topping off all this joy, I was having the mother of all night sweat sessions. That plus the mind racing, you know, where you're stressing about things you can't possibly fix a three o'clock in the damn morning, but you're too tired to tell your brain to just shut up already?

Good times, only not so much.

No, I didn't get up at 5:00 this morning, I was busy trying to catch a few more Zzzz's. My plan is to do my circuits this evening. I've talked to the boys and let them know my plan for the evening, and assuming no one's homework is too daunting I think it'll work out. Then Thursday morning I can scrape myself out of bed for some nice, meandering solid-state cardio.

On tap for this weekend: survive the Elder's 13th birthday, and buy myself a new bed. This one has had it.

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

I'd Like 26 Hours in a Day, Please

Monday, 5:00 AM, 40 minutes, 10.5 miles
Tuesday, 5:00 AM, 40 minutes, 10.3 miles (2 Tabata sets within solid state cardio)

I really do need another two hours per day. Minimum.

I'm up at 5, brush teeth, etc, get on workout gear, get the coffee pot going, take out the dog, head to the computer room, get on the bike for 40 minutes (by now it's 5:20-ish), off the bike, record time and mileage, into the shower, out, toss on basics (not work clothes, but not back to jammies), cook breakfast (currently 1 egg, 1/4 cup egg whites), throw treats at cats to keep them out from under me, eat, fold laundry (there is ALWAYS damned laundry), wake up boys, get on makeup, put on work clothes, do hair, make sure offspring are vertical, jewelry on, kiss husband, banana in the car, kids in the car, dog in the car, cat treats flung to keep cats inside, and we're off by about 7:03.

Drop off the Gum Zombie at his school, drop off the Elder at his before/ after school care center, drop the dog off at Doggy Daycare (i.e., my parents' house), eat bowl of fruit and suck down cup of coffee while hopefully not scalding the inside of my mouth, get to work by 8:00.


5:00 PM, leave work, pick up dog, pick up Elder, pick up Gum Zombie, arrive home anywhere between 5:40 and 6:00 PM, depending on traffic. Feed offspring, throw laundry into washer (always, always freaking laundry), get shower, blow out hair (this one doesn't always happen -- I have my limits), eat dinner, wash dishes if Choreboy's working late, help children with homework.

8:00 PM, collapse. If I'm lucky. Spend time with husband. Ditto. And somewhere between 9:00 and 10:00 PM? Bed.

Next day, start it all over again. It's not hell by any means (I know from hell), just tiring. Plus my schedule severely cuts into my reading time :P

Yes, I live for weekends.

Sunday, February 19, 2012

Things You Forget

Edited to add: things you forget... like putting a TITLE on the entry, yipes!

Things you forget when you're working back up to a decent fitness level: circuit training will Kick. Your. Ass.

Rather than my standard biking for 40 minutes, instead I did 12 reps of several resistance exercises, a minute of planking (I thought I couldn't plank because of my wrists then I saw someone doing a forearm-supported plank, and that works), and then a four-minute set of Tabata intervals on the recumbent bike. Repeat x3, took about 40 minutes, done.

And so was I. Holy cow. Bad thing about planks? When you're already beat and trying to hold yourself up even using your forearms you can start to drool. It really isn't very attractive.

After I was no longer dripping my plan was to start dinner after I'd cleaned up. So, shower, done, exit bedroom and...

... what's this on my carpet?

[The weak of stomach should leave now until after the little dotted line thingie.]

"Mommy, I threw up on the carpet and on my hands and the toilet," came a rather sad little voice. The Gum Zombie had done it again, bless his poor little heart.

Remember that "Best Laid Plans" stuff? Pretty much sums it up.

I wonder how many calories scrubbing puke out of carpet burned...


Regarding my whining about The Evil That is My Scale, I know. I know the scale isn't a good measure of overall fitness and so forth. It's just the one I'm most used to, and right now it's reading higher than it did about six months ago. Not atrociously so, maybe 5 pounds depending on the day? So I'm getting readings of 138 - 142 regularly, rather than 134-138. And it annoys. Ever since I had the endometrial ablation it's been reading higher save one day for about five minutes it said maybe 136. Maybe. So I'm just frustrated I can't knock off a few more pounds that I believe should be able to come off.

Then that frustration ties in with the fact that I do know I'm eating well, and I'm exercising well, and if I keep at it I will get results. They may not be numbers on a scale, but there will be results. I read a quote by Jack Dixon recently: "If you focus on results you will never change. If you focus on change you will get results." So I'm trying to remember that, and not focus on the stupid scale or other things so much and just buy into the process.

And I like being fit. It cracks me up when I'm putting on my mascara in the morning and do a double-take because I catch the cut between my deltiod and biceps. Or when I'm turning while driving and I can make out separate muscles in my forearms. I just need to chill when the results in my lower half aren't as visible. I'm a classic pear with the added joy of those fat collection deposits known as "saddle bags," and nothing short of plastic surgery will make those suckers go away. But they do get smaller with less fat on my body, so that's what I'd like to see.

Besides, being honest with myself, it's not as if I've been able to be that active on a cardio level lately (thank you Stupid Knee!) until I got the bike at the end of January, so really, three weeks isn't going to throw some magic switch or anything even though I've got months and years of decent activity behind me. I just need to be consistent going forward, know that exercise is always going to be a part of my life, and stay away from the damned Quarter Pounders with Cheese.

Oh, and on the plus side, I can't eat chips for a year. Or at least the gum surgery I had won't permit it. I'm sure I could, physically, but then again the spectre of losing my teeth or having my gum tissue flee my mouth is a pretty impressive one. So no nachos, no sea salt and cracked pepper kettle chips, no baked sour cream and cheddar chips, no Terra chips... nada. I'm really not that bummed about it (most of the time). Since I started watching my sodium too, I have a feeling that next January chips are going to taste horrifically salty anyway. Sometimes a hiatus from a specific junk food is a very good thing.

Friday, February 17, 2012

Evenings Work Too!

5:40 PM, 40 minutes, 10.4 miles (2 sets Tabatas mixed with solid-state cardio)

Since I knew I wouldn't have The Homework Monster breathing down my neck tonight, I decided to sleep in this morning and instead get on my bike after work. Then I tossed and turned until 6:00 AM because I kept second-guessing myself. ARRRGH!!

Oh well, regardless of the time, I did it.

A dress I wore yesterday showed me that although the scale is being a bitch, exercise does a body good.

Tomorrow for dinner: turkey burgers! I'm going to grab some whole wheat buns at the grocery store in the morning, some swiss cheese, and some sweet potatoes. Maybe a tomato or two if they have anything besides those sad, pale, mealy excuses I usually find. I figure I'll cut the sweet potato into strips and roast those as oven "fries", steam some broccoli, cook the turkey burgers and we're set.

Have a good one, y'all!

Thursday, February 16, 2012

Better Late than Never

5:00 AM, 40 minutes, 10.6 miles

Okay, actually when 5:00 hit I had an argument with myself. I was so tired it seemed like my body was saying "No! No! Stay in bed and sleep. You can always exercise later..."

Yeah, sometimes my body is a lying liar that lies. So I ignored it, got up, and did my cardio.

And now I'm beat. I'll be up in less than 8 hours anyway. Nite!

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

Playing Catch-up

Saturday, sometime in the afternoon, 40 minutes, 10.5 miles (2 sets Tabatas mixed with solid-state cardio)
Tuesday, 5:00 AM, 40 minutes, 10.5 miles
Wednesday, 5:00 AM, 40 minutes, 10.4 miles (2 sets Tabatas mixed with solid-state cardio)

Whew. So yes, I've been at it, even though I haven't reported in. It's been absolute lunacy the past few days what with the pipe bursting and some refrigerator dramatics. But whatever, we're through it. I think I need to sacrifice a weekday solid-state cardio session or two to resistance training instead. Or mix in some circuits. Planning to do those on weekends is all well and good, but I like to have a bit more variety during the week rather than have clumps here and there. And with weights and circuit training, I definitely need a few days in between. Maybe even just trading out one cardio session for a circuit day, then do the other one on Saturday. That could work. So then I'd have two solid-state cardio days, two 2 sets Tabatas mixed with solid-state cardio days, and two circuit days.


Oh, and we just had our first major adolescent meltdown*. Poor Elder. I can't say anything to make him feel better either. All I can do is listen, and I'd be happy to if the child would just freaking talk to me. He won't, though, because I am his mother and therefore I am the epitome of clueless. Or dense. Or whatever word they're using these days to describe parental stupidity.

Sheesh. My appreciation for my own parents grows daily. The fact that they let me live past fifteen is still something of a marvel.

Anyway, have a good one folks! Here's hoping I don't go home to curdled milk.

*I'd describe it but then the child would find my blog, read it, and we would have the meltdown to end all meltdowns.

Monday, February 13, 2012

Best Laid Plans (I think I've used this title before...)

So yesterday there I was, in my workout gear, ready to hop on the bike for 10+ miles or so. The Season 3 premiere of Swamp People was replaying and since I'd fallen asleep halfway through it on Thursday, the actual premiere night, I was tickled pink. Figured I'd pedal away, watch Troy & Co. choot 'em some gators, and life would be good, right?

Yeah, it didn't happen.

I was just tying my shoes when Choreboy came in with a serious look on his face. "You need to come see this."

Water. Dripping out of the side of my house. And it was steaming.


Nothing like the hot water supply line breaking to put a crimp in your day. Goodbye, cycling; hello, Lowe's.

Thankfully I am married to Mr. Fixit. In fact, I'm rapidly starting to believe if Choreboy can't fix it then it's broken for good.* All it took was a trip to the store to pick up some emery cloth, a length of copper pipe, and this new ball valve thingie he wanted to put on the water heater. He already had everything else he needed at home. In fact, if you'd like a detailed version of events, here's his blog entry about it, in glorious technicolor detail.

So now the hot water is as it should be, happily contained in its pipes and no longer spewing everywhere, and Choreboy once again wins Best!Husband!Ever!

*That said, he's actually very straightforward about things that are beyond his abilities, like the garage door spring when it broke. That definitely merited a call to the garage door repair folks.

Saturday, February 11, 2012

Who Knew?

I upped the resistance on the bike yesterday and came in at 10.8 miles, which is a new all-time high for me. Holy crap. Who knew?

Nothing is sore either, which is actually a bit of a bummer. It's definitely time to get more intense about things. I don't want to hobble around in pain by any means, but I do want to push myself a bit more. I think I need to do circuits on the weekend, a couple days of Tabatas during the week, and a couple days of just straight cardio. Variety is a good thing, and I know I need more.

Food-wise I had to rethink things at the grocery store. My plan was to get a turkey breast and roast it, but because I don't make turkey that often I forgot that turkey breast tends to be frozen this time of year, and I'd need to give that sucker some decent thaw time which I just don't have this weekend. So instead I'm making my lentil soup for the week, which involves a pound of lentils, about 4-6 organic carrots, a full bag of baby organic spinach, chopped onion, two ribs chopped celery, tomatoes, chicken or vegetable broth, and whatever spices I feel called to toss in at any given moment. Sometimes I feel like Middle Eastern and throw in a boatload of curry powder; other times I forego the curry and instead use a heavier hand with the basil and oregano.

There is always garlic, just because.

Anyway, time to hit the kitchen -- have a great Saturday, everyone!

Friday, February 10, 2012

What a Week

Out of the past six workdays, counting today, I have worked a full day exactly twice. That's it. Last Friday was getting the Gum Zombie to urgent care, Monday was a full workday, Tuesday was the Gum Zombie's trip to the orthopedist, Wednesday was Taking the Elder to the Dentist day, Thursday was Subject the Children to Dental Procedures day, and today, blessedly, I am once again planted at my desk for a full eight hours.

I have precisely 2 days and 1.5 hours of sick leave left. Until 2013.

It hasn't been a banner week for eating either, but I have managed to stay within my 1300 - 1350 calorie range by juggling food items here and there. It's not ideal, but at least I'm through it. And after work today I get to go home to my very nice Slow Cooker Provencal Chicken and Beans, fix the boys their food, then climb onto the bike again since I ended up taking my cardio rest day yesterday. Thank you, scheduling insanity!

I think I'm going to up my resistance on the bike. I won't say that 10 miles in 40 minutes is at all effortless (I absolutely sweat buckets), but a bit more effort would be a good thing. Or maybe I'll work on my Tabata intervals. Eh, I'll figure it out. Regardless, this evening there will be movement of the deliberate and fitness-enhancing type.

Now I just need to figure out what I'm cooking for next week, get the list made, and make sure I eat breakfast before tomorrow morning's grocery store run. We all have our limits, and mine snap when I'm confronted with endless food on an empty stomach.

Have a great weekend, all!

Wednesday, February 08, 2012

Broken Pattern

Tuesday, 3:30 PM, 40 minutes, 10.3 miles
Wednesday, 6:00 PM, 40 minutes, 10.1 miles

Well, at least I got it done.

I hate it when I mess up a good pattern of behavior. After not waking up on time yesterday you can bet your bottom dollar that I had my alarm set this morning to drag myself out of bed. I woke up at 4:45, stayed in bed until the alarm went off, then proceeded to beat that sucker into a pulp until 6:00 AM. When I lose my rhythm with something, it's murder getting it back.

On the plus side, it wasn't hard to get in my workout this evening. Choreboy is closing the restaurant the rest of this week and into the beginning of next, so making the best of a somewhat bummerish situation, I'll just snooze in a bit and work out at night instead.

It'll do.

Tuesday, February 07, 2012

It's Not a Tumor!

5:00 AM, Zzzzzzzzzz

That would be the sound of me sleeping through when I should have awakened, due to my failure to turn on my alarm. I only woke up half an hour late, but that was too late to get in the early-morning workout. Drat.

On the "Cue the Hallelujah Chorus" side of things, however, I am pleased to announce that the Gum Zombie's foot is not, I repeat not broken! The orthopedist says he's just got a bad sprain, so the boy is in an air cast for three weeks with no jumping, running, leaping, or otherwise sproinging about, but outside of that we're fine. Hooray!

And because it took so long to get everything done for the child this morning, I'm out of work for the remainder of the day so it looks like I have a little extra time to park my happy self on that recumbent bike anyway.

Sometimes it all just works out. Whew.

Monday, February 06, 2012

Monday Monday

4:45, awake. 5:00 alarm. 10.2 miles, life is good.

I took Friday as a cardio rest day, did my weights and resistance training that night, then went an hour on the bike on Saturday (average 15.1 MPH, but covered only 14.9 miles, no I don't know how that works), and 40 minutes on it yesterday. Getting up this morning was evil in spite of the fact that I now wake up well in advance of the alarm, but setting my mind that I will do this and report back has some good accountability going.

The Gum Zombie is hanging out at home today with Choreboy, bless both their hearts. We finally have an appointment with an orthopedist, but that's not until tomorrow morning so until then we're still doing the splint/ ACE bandage combo. It's actually kind of a good thing because I can make sure the child is clean this way, as I can take off the splint for him to soak in the tub for a little. Once we have a cast on (I'm praying they'll decide on a boot instead of a cast -- please!!) it's going to be a whole 'nother ball game.

Oh well, it's part and parcel of the parental package. And at least he waited until he was older to break his first bone. The Elder managed to break his arm when he was 3. That child is a talent.


In other news, I finally managed to bake a decent banana bread yesterday. Hooray! I don't understand why, but for some reason baking anything with bananas was just giving me fits. They'd be raw in the middle, or dried out, or the last instance the loaves turned out more like... banana bread pudding? Which wasn't awful or anything, just not bread-like.

And I wanted banana bread. Dammit.

In order to dispose of the loaves efficiently (i.e., not strap them to my ass with duct tape), I brought one in to the office and also cut a generous slice from the "home" loaf to take to my parents this morning. My hope is that Choreboy and the Gum Zombie will consume mass quantities of the remaining loaf while I'm at work, and by the time I get home it will be all gone.

Wishful thinking, perhaps, but a girl can dream.

Friday, February 03, 2012

Hey, Bring That Back!

They're carting away my Mother of the Year trophy. Again.

You know how there are some children who, frankly, veer toward the dramatic? And every injury down to a paper cut demands the care of an entire surgical suite? Yeah, I have one of those.

So yesterday when the Gum Zombie hurt his ankle at his after school care center, I looked at it, saw it was neither bruised nor swollen, and figured it would be better in the morning just like countless similar injuries have been. Instead, this morning he couldn't put any weight on it and as luck would have it, the doctor at the urgent care center said the X-rays appear to show a small fracture.

I was horrified. He has been positively gleeful and has gloried in telling me (repeatedly) "And YOU kept telling me to put weight on it! No trophy for you!"

The kid is true to his genetics, what can I say?

So at any rate, we have a child who is tickled with his crutches, is nearly as enthralled with his splint/ ACE bandage combo, and who will be going in to the orthopedist as quickly as can be managed next week.

I'll be the mom in the corner wearing the dunce cap. Oy.

Thursday, February 02, 2012

Wake-Up Call

Actually, I don't need one. A wake-up call, that is. After a couple of days of this whole "getting up at 5:00 AM" thing, my body has adjusted and since yesterday I've been waking up at 4:45 without the alarm.

I don't know whether to celebrate or scream. It's probably going to be a little of both.

Anyway, 5:00 AM! 40 minutes, 10 miles again. Okay, more accurately it was 10.28 miles, but right now I'm happy with sticking at 10-ish miles per day for the next week. I'll worry about building more speed maybe around the end of next week.

I also need to figure out how to work in my intervals. I can't really watch the display to see how fast I'm going on a steady basis because it isn't lit, and I work out in the dark due to Choreboy's desire to continue sleeping. When I want to check my miles to make sure I'm on track for 10, I turn the iPad around and shine the light from its screen onto the bike display.

Pitiful, but effective.

So I'm thinking that I may reserve my interval training for the weekends. That mostly works for me, but part of my brain is still saying I need to spread those out a little more, so I'm going to need to give it a little more thought. I do have that Tabata MP3 playlist I put together, and I can definitely do that without seeing my display... so that could be an option.

My only concern with adding intervals to my early-morning workouts is that I'm kind of liking the alone time I have, snoozing husband notwithstanding. I'm reading a new series I'm really enjoying (the Jennifer Scales books co-written by Mary Janice Davidson -- she of the "Undead" vampire series fame -- and her husband, Anthony Alongi), and although the biking slows me down reading-wise, I'm still able to focus on it. That would change if I tossed Tabatas into the mix. I don't do change well.

We'll see.

Speaking of snoozing husbands, Choreboy let me know later yesterday morning that he'd actually been awake most of the time I'd been out there on the bike, and that he in fact witnessed Roach Fest 2012. Excuse me? I'm squeaking and freaking out over a damn bug and he can't even bestir himself to make it dead? Topping off his perfidity*, he failed to pitch the poisoned monster and it escaped. It's probably now going to develop a resistance to the lemon-scented Raid I doused it with and hunt us down in our sleep to stuff lemons in our ears or something.

When it does, it'll be all Choreboy's fault. And I'll be telling him about it. Repeatedly. And at great volume.

*Note: the dictionary says the word is "perfidy" rather than "perfidity". The dictionary is an ass.

Wednesday, February 01, 2012

Victory is Mine!

5:00 AM. 40 minutes. 10.1 miles today. Yes!

I managed that along with kicking over the dog's food, cleaning up same, shrieking because a freaking roach appeared behind my shoulder (ew, ew, EW!!!), killing same... you get the picture.

Oh, and one of the cats left a rather pungent gift for me this morning in the litter box. Better in than out, certainly; but still. It almost killed my appetite.


One interesting effect of morning exercise appears to be that I am flat-out starved for the rest of the day, and I'm trying to mitigate that. My breakfast has been rather light (as in 1/2 cup egg whites plus 1 TBSP Parmesan "light"), so I added a little bowl of oatmeal. That didn't do much for me so I tossed in a banana yesterday. Still no luck, so this morning I upped my egg whites to a shade over 3/4 cup (because that's how much was left in the carton). We'll see how that works out. So far so good, at this point. I haven't eaten my Emergency Backup Banana yet, nor have I dipped into the This is Really Really an Emergency Peanut Butter Stash, which gives me hope that I may have hit on the right combination.

Tomorrow I'm just going to shoot for 10 miles again. 15 MPH sounds pretty good to me, but I need to watch my bike display to see what that is in RPM, then I'll have a better idea of where I am on the whole effective exercise continuum. I'm reading this article from Livestrong, and it's giving me some ideas... should be entertaining at least. Or give me something new to obsess over. Either way, it works.