A Running Start

Update on the missing clothes

2010-05-14T09:27:00.003-03:00

I found them. I found them on Sunday. Five weeks after they went missing. FIVE WEEKS. They were in the bottom of drawer of my dresser. Not a drawer I open much, obviously. So during those five weeks, I haven't run at all. Not even once. Not even when I was in Orillia, where I love running because the trails are flat and purty.

I am considering going for a run this weekend. If I do, I'll let you know how it goes. (Or maybe I won't, who am I kidding?!?)

Update on the missing running clothes.

2010-04-13T12:05:00.001-03:00

They are still missing.

This one's for Tracey.

2010-04-11T11:29:00.004-03:00

So, I lose things. A lot. Way more than the average person. And my co-workers think that it's pretty funny. For example, when I told this story, Tracey could hardly breathe for laughing at me so hard. Some background - in the five months I've been working at Quest, I've lost my purse twice - once for a week, and once Tracey found in the lunch room. I've lost my card pass twice. Once forever, once I found it in a coffee shop.

A couple of weeks ago, I went to my Monday fitness class. It's a tight squeeze - both the kids' jujitsu class and the fitness class are 6-7, so it's a race to get there on time, and I leave even earlier. This time I had to leave class early because (this is embarrassing) I had recently lost a book. A book that my manager bought for me, and was looking forward to reading. I knew I had been reading it at the pool, and thought maybe I'd left it there. So I left class early, and went to the reception desk to check. She didn't have it, but told me to check the lost and found. The lost and found is through one of the change rooms, so I made my way there. I dug through through the bins. No book.

I knew my friend S would be on the pool deck, watching her kids swim, and I had a few minutes, so I went and chatted with her for a bit. As I started to wrap the chat up, a feeling of foreboding swept over me. I had been casually gathering up my stuff, when I became aware that I didn't have my keys. I didn't have my purse with me because... (this is embarrassing) I left it at work that day, so I just had my coat, a water bottle, my MP3 player, and my keys with me. My search became a bit more serious, and then I had to admit to S that I couldn't find my keys.

So, now what? They were the only keys to my van, since (this is embarrassing) we lost the other set. Lucky me - I got to go back to the front desk - and say: Remember me? I think when I was looking for my lost book, I may have lost my keys here. Nope. No keys. So I went out to check the van, to see I might have left them there - I had been in a hurry when I ran into class. No keys. Back to the front desk, where the girl was telling her coworker about this poor woman who lost a book, and then lost her keys while looking for the book. Back to the pool deck. No keys. In the meantime, Dexter was finishing class, and would soon wonder where I was. I called Tony to go pick him, and he then picked me up. The van remained at the gym. For two days. Until finally, the cleaners found my keys, tucked into a locker by someone who found them when after I dropped them in the change room on the way to the lost and found. So the point of this story - is that I lose things.

Today, when I was getting ready to go for a run, I couldn't find my running clothes. I have lost them. How you can lose clothes in your own home, I have no idea. I know I have seen them. I have the running bra that I wore the last time I wore my the pants and shirt that are missing. But the pants and shirt - they are gone. After I dug out some other clothes to wear, not the right weight for the weather, so I had to improvise, I couldn't find my shoes. I did eventually find them, on my daughter's bed with a pile of clean laundry I had put there.

But I'm not a total loser - 5K today! I did walk a bit of all three of the last hills, which are back to back at the end of my run. And I really couldn't have run much farther. But 5K is good - I don't like not being able to run 5K.

I still don't know where my clothes are though.

Fake it 'til you make it

2010-04-09T09:44:00.005-03:00

I ran four times this week. I committed to four workouts, one of which had to be a run, so I did well this week. (I hit a fitness class as well, so I actually did more than I committed to - a rarity in all parts of my life these days). I have branched out since I first started running - probably because my life has branched out. I ran four different routes, in three different parts of town:

Run 1 was my old "flat route", running for about 4K. I found this route when I was upping distance, and exhausted by the hills in my neighbourhood. I ran part of my old 8K route. Sigh.
Run 2 was at the track, with my friend K. Sadly, I ran 8 laps in the same time she ran 9. (She does have really long legs, though. And "special" size feet. I'm sure that's why she's faster.) That's a measly 3.2K.
Run 3 was a lunchtime run on the lovely Halifax waterfront. Tons of runners out and about, nice sunny day; I like running on the boardwalk with the ocean views (although the smells, I could do with out). I could have run a bit further, but it was my first run with this particular starting point, and I messed up my route planning a bit (ie I didn't have one), and ended up a bit on the short side. Don't know the distance, but I ran for 24:48.
Run 4 was one of my normal routes, through my neighbourhood, including the hills. It's about a 4K route.

Here's what three of the four runs had in common:

They were on flat ground
They sucked
They were hard
My legs weighed a thousand pounds each
I ran very slowly
They were hard
I was glad when they were over
I hurt after

Did I mention they were hard? Like, every step required will power - I had to fight the urge to walk, which I never do. I cannot believe a short run like that can make me hurt again. And when it's not fun for at least a couple minutes of a run, you gotta wonder why you would ever do it again. But, being the trooper I am, I headed out for the fourth run, which.... didn't suck as badly. Want to know the secret? I started composing this blog post when I set out - thinking about how I would write that my last run of the week was an improvement. You know, fake it 'till you make it. Part way through my run, I started recomposing the post to how running really sucks, and I don't think I'm going to do it ever again. But somewhere in there, a tiny tiny good feeling crept in. I'll admit, it was during a downhill portion of the run. But, it was enough to think that I might just run again.

It's the triathlon's fault.

2010-04-03T16:06:00.000-03:00

So I fell off the wagon. Not as hard as it may look from posting history - I fell harder off the blogging wagon than I did the running wagon. But I have fallen.

I still run. I do. But somehow, it's not the same. Remember how I started out as a "runner"", and then finally graduated to being a runner? Well, now it's like I'm the person formerly known as a runner. I started running on March 15, 2004. 2004! That means five years later, I'm still reaping the benefits of the journey I started. Reading over my old entries (you should try it - it's pretty amusing if I do say so myself), I can see the love I once had for it. But somehow, somewhere along the way, it's become much more of a chore.

I think it was gaining some of the weight back that made it harder. I stopped running for a bit, and spent the time eating cookies instead. (I never have gone back to real Coke, I've replaced it with the much healthier Diet Coke. Hey - it's caffeine free Diet Coke!) Then, when I started again, there was more of me to haul around, I couldn't run as far, and it just seemed - impossible - to get back to where I was. Plus, there was the hills. Hills just aren't as friendly as they used to be.

Actually, maybe that's not it. I know when it happened. It was training for the triathlon that did me in. I got really burnt out, and have never really recovered. The fact that the triathlon was almost three years ago is not relevant, right? Three years isn't long enough to recover from burnout, it takes much longer than that. Right?

Oh, no, it was actually before that. It was the plantar fasciitis. Sometime in the past (maybe in 2006? 2007?), I developed a problem with my heel. I think it was due to some poorly fitting shoes - curing me of buying shoes from people who know not of which they speak. It persists to this day - sometimes more, sometimes less. So when the spirit moves me, and I run more than a couple of times in a week - I can be sure that my heel will start hurting again.

Or maybe I'm just making excuses. And I should stop. Fat, burnt out, broken down... does it really matter? Running is good for me, and makes me happy. I should run more. I really should.

Making strides

2005-06-14T18:10:00.000-03:00

Close your eyes and imagine this. A runner, passing by you. There is bounce in her step, and her long legs reach out and attack the pavement. Her thighs power her forward, and as she passes you, you turn and see a nice firm butt that barely jiggles.

Sounds nice, doesn't it? It's kind of how I imagine people reacting to me as I run by them (well, on the very rare occasion that it is warm enough to wear shorts so you can actually see my legs). Well, it turns out the reality is quite different.

Close your eyes and imagine this. A runner passing you by. Strangely, her thighs are hardly moving at all. Instead, her legs kick back from her calves, as though she is trying to kick her own ass. Although she appears to be working hard, and her arms are pumping, she isn't covering much ground - almost like she is running in place. As she passes you, you turn and see that her butt is bouncing in time to her little mincing steps, and you marvel that someone who works so hard still has such a flabby butt.

Apparently, that is the reality. After my race on Sunday, Tony (who managed to drag himself there, in spite of getting forty five minutes of sleep the night before) was telling me about my running style, compared to someone who looks like a runner. He said that some runners look like their legs are in charge, and that I wasn't one of them. He suggested that I should take advantage of my long legs, and make my strides longer. What he was saying actually resonated with me, as I have been thinking that my stride was off - as a matter of fact, Gingah and I touched on that on Saturday night at Donna's.

So, when I was running yesterday (10.5K!!), I examined my stride. It was short. Most of the movement was from the knee down. There is no bounce, all the motion is forward. So, I tried changing my stride. I lengthened it. I stretched my legs out to meet the pavement. I let my quads do the work, instead of my calf muscles. I covered more ground! I felt strong! I felt fast! This was what I have been missing! It was really freakin' hard! I couldn't maintain it! I had to go back to my short choppy stride!

And it explained a lot. First of all, I really feel that I was getting to be as fast as I was going to - obviously I could improve, but getting to that 25/26 minute mark where the bulk of the runners are really seemed out of my poor non-athletic reach. I've also been having a tough time with my calves. They seem to cramp and tighten a lot, particularly for the first three or four kilometres of a run, and in a 5K run, they don't ever get feeling fluid. As soon as I lengthened my stride, and let my legs push me forward, instead of just keeping them under me, I felt the difference in speed. And it makes sense. Why wouldn't you use those large muscles, instead of making the poor little calf muscles do it all? I could feel my quads and glutes working, and my calf muscles were relieved. I guess I have finished sculpting my calves, and am now ready to move on and tighten and build those other muscles. I think it will be hard though - it took a lot more energy per stride, and even though each stride was taking me further, I felt much more tired. I think I will start building time using my new stride - maybe 5 minutes at a time at first. And maybe, just maybe, I can be the runner I thought I was.

And the winner is....

2005-06-12T19:24:00.000-03:00

Well, okay, not me, but another personal best. I ran in the Lunenburg 5K race today. It was cold (10 degrees!), it was foggy, and it was the hilliest race course I have done. This was the first race that I actually ran, not just finished. It was fun finding my place in the pack - usually people pass me as they settle in, this time, I'm happy to say, I passed probably 30 people getting to the right place.

After that, I pretty much settled in, and although people passed me, it was because they were faster, not because I slowed down too much. Many many people finished behind me. I was still at the back of the pack, but I think I've moved to the front of the back. My time, you ask? Another personal best: 28:26 minutes. Although I secretly hoped to come in under 28 minutes, it is more than a minute faster than my last race, and this course was much hillier and less familiar. So, I'm okay with that. And I did run pretty hard (for me, the non-athlete, anyway!).

So, five weeks of training = 1.5 minutes less. Well worth it, right?

Waaaaaahhhhh!

2005-06-07T18:32:00.000-03:00

It was only 9.5K. I thought it seemed too fast (although not too short!). But I am confused, because I ran every single road I have ever run on, and I know I measured out a full 10K run before. It gets time and gas consuming to tweak the longer distances. I don't have a .5K route extender, so I'll probably just use my 1K route extender and run 10.5K. That way, I'll be SURE, and won't have to suffer this crushing disappointment again. So, I have to take back my mental high fives, and hope that no one saw my little victory dance as I slapped my end of run lamppost. (Speaking of slightly embarassing mannerisms, there's this one song on my MP3 player that goes: "Clap your hands to the rhythm one time", and I actually clap.)

And then, to add insult to injury, it was raining cats and dogs, and blowing like crazy this morning. I didn't realize how bad it was. So, after waiting from 5:30 'til 6:30 for Dexter to go back to sleep, I got up to put on my gear only to realize - I wasn't going anywhere. So, no run this morning. Waaaaaaahhh!

Not to worry though. I had a chocolate danish from Tim Horton's, and KFC for supper. I feel much better now. Uh, uh. I do. Yup. Waaaaaaaahhhhh!

I kicked ass this week.

2005-06-05T12:01:00.000-03:00

I am on week four of the Taft's 10K training program now. I did not miss a run. I did an extra run. Just for fun. Yep, just for fun. How is that for bizarre? I love it!

Okay, so here is what I did:

Monday: Tempo run - 10 minute warmup run, 22 minutes hard run, 10 minute cooldown run. I hired a babysitter for this one - running is getting to be more expensive these days, I'll tell ya. The only disappointment was that I actually timed the first 5K, and I am not any faster. Oh, well.

Tuesday: off

Wednesday: bonus run. Ran 5K to my fitness class, then did the class. In spite of Karen stopping her car twice beside me along the way, and trying to convince me that I was going to be late for class, I wasn't. And sheesh, you'd think if you were going to stop beside me, you could at least hand me a cup of water. Next time, 'kay?

Thursday: off. The only time I could have run was first thing in the morning, and I figured I needed more recovery time than 10 hours after my big workout of the day before. Plus I didn't want to get out of bed.

Friday: the dreaded intervals. I almost bailed, but after trying on several excuses, none of them fit, and off we went. I did what I supposed to - 3 half mile sprints, alternating with a short recovery period, plus a ten minute warm up and cool down. It was very hard, but it felt good to actually do what I had planned. It's the first time I have succeeded with the interval run. Now, as long as I pretend not to notice that I should already have added a fourth sprint, and be moving to a fifth this week, I can continue to glow with pride over this.

Saturday: early morning distance run. 9K. Felt great. Sun good.

Sunday: mid morning distance run. 10 KILOMETERS! I'm there! And it was just fine. I definitely could have run farther. The only thing that is nagging at me is that I did it in 1:07, and that is a few minutes faster than I would have predicted, based on my other runs. I'm going to measure today to confirm, but assuming my memory is correct, it really was 10K. A whole lot of hills, too.

Grand total for the week: 36 kilometers.

Run to the hills

2005-06-01T10:41:00.000-03:00

As I am running longer and harder, I am growing to hate the hills. There are just too many of them. Extending my route from 8K to 9K added two more uphill segments! Could some one please come by with a big hill squasher, and flatten them all down? Or, maybe someone could volunteer to be my route planner? I know there are probably places close by that I could run to that would be flat, but the time and gas it would take me to develop the routes I would need (6K, 7K, 8K, 9K, etc) is daunting. Or maybe someone could just give me some really good legs, and a pair of super lungs.

I finally tackled the big giant hill that comes up to my subdivision. It is about 2K of running uphill, which I did at the end of my 8K run. I was just barely moving by the time I hit the top - but I was filled with pride at finally conquering my fear of this hill. The next day, I was running down the same hill ('cause there was no way I was crazy enough to try that again), and there was a man running up the hill. He was running. Up the hill. He looked like he didn't even notice that he had just run up hill for more than a kilometer. He smiled, and mouthed something - I assume it was "Hello", although it could have been "You wish you were as good as me" - that I couldn't hear because I had the music cranked.

I was trying to decide what was the differenct between him and me. Well, aside from the penis, of course. Was it conditioning? Am I lacking some kind of athletic gene? If I keep on the path I am on, and actually go up that hill over and over again, will I be able to act like it's nothing, too? I finally decided it probably is conditioning mostly. As to the rest - I am pretty sure it's attitude. And mine needs an adjustment.

But I still hate them.

Playing catch up

2005-05-31T08:01:00.000-03:00

Oy vey. Too much to post about. First: here is a post I started at the beginning of May:

I am a fraud. Part 1

You probably all think that what you have just experienced is me not blogging. It's happened before. It wouldn't be the first time. But, unfortunately, that is not the case. What you are experiencing is me not running.

I thought I had things set up well to go on a tear. I finished my first goal of the season, researched training programs for a 10K race to start working on my second goal. I had Pam here for a week and a half, and then, after two days of sitting on my butt driving, I would be at my parents for a few days. I thought between Pam and everyone at my parents, I could run at will. Nope. Not me. I ran twice while Pam was here, and two shorties in Ontario. Then, I got back here, and nope. No running. So, I feel like a fraud. All those people who have started running since I have - Karen, Alena, Julia, Sue - they're all running. Me, I am a fraud. I think I need the title of runner taken away. I might have to go back to being called a "runner". I might have to start going on "runs". I am

And there the entry ends. Which brings us to the next blog entry I should have made:

I am a fraud. Part 2

Now, you probably think that you are continuing to experience me not running. Not so. I have dropped the quotes, and reclaimed the title runner - no quotes. I have implemented this training plan. And I am currently about to start my fourth week. So, obviously, I am a blogging fraud. I am sure you would have all loved to have shared in my growth as a runner over the past three weeks.

You've missed out on my first run with another person - Julia, of the strong mind. You've missed out on the distance increases - I am running 9K now on my long runs. You've missed out on my speed increases - my tempo runs have really surprised me. I can carry on a pretty speedy pace for the allotted time (20 minutes last week) - as long as you don't put any hills in my way. You've missed out on how hard I have worked to avoid doing intervals - man, they suck. The last set (okay, really the second set), I did at the track, and with reasonable success, I thought. But nope, I just looked at the training plan, and I only did 1/4 mile intervals, not 1/2 mile intervals. And man, they sucked. You've missed out on all of the bitching I would have done about the weather - almost everyday it has rained, poured, misted, fogged, and been cold. And man, that's sucked. However, I have only missed one run due to the weather. I bet you can guess which one. So in summary: distance and tempo runs - great! Intervals and weather - sucky. That's what you've missed.

Which brings me to the next blog entry:

I am a fraud. Part 3

Just kidding. You'll probably have to wait a day or two for a real entry. And really. I have already admitted to being a fraudulent runner, and a fraudulent writer. What else do you think I could possibly have to admit to?

Ah, the irony

2005-04-20T10:06:00.000-03:00

I had the interesting experience of running home last night. We were out for the girls' recital dress rehearsal, discussing when I would be able to squeeze a run in (it was about 7:00). Cam suggested that I just run home from where we were. Since I had put my running clothes on hours ago, waiting for that right moment, I was actually dressed for the occasion. My MP3 player was in the car, so I had everything I needed.

It was kind of cool running as a mode of transportation, rather than just for recreation. I started to imagine doing it regularly. Going to the library - returning home with a backpack full of books and DVDs. Okay, maybe not so practical. Going to the grocery store - oh, wait, same problem. Where else do I go? School? Nope, not unless I want to run pulling a wagon, pushing a stoller, or carrying several children. Fitness class? Well, if I ran there, Karen would never make it, since I think the only reason she goes is because she has to drive me. ;) I came to the realization that my life was not suited to running as transportation, however enticing it was. And perhaps that I should get out more.

And where did I run home from you ask? The ice cream parlour. Ah, the irony.

And, the results are in!

2005-04-19T09:19:00.000-03:00

I have run my first race of the season. It went well.

On Friday, I headed myself over to Halifax to run the race course. I had printed out the map of the course, written the directions on my hand, and was ready to go. I drove the course first, then parked my car, walked for a while, went to where I thought the race would start. I ran down South Street, turned left on Inglis, and started watching for Young Street. I kept watching for Young. No Young. I got to the next set of light. Not Young. I turned in circles, trying to figure out why this was not South, and where I was supposed to be running. I started running back towards South, and then when I reached the corner of South and Inglis. Except that there is no such thing as the corner of South and Inglis. It was South and Robie. What the hell did I do? And what was this going to do to my timed trial? Well, what I had done was skip the first instruction on my hand, and not looked at the street names as I turned the first corner. So, after studying the map, driving the route, and writing the directions on my hand - I still screwed up. You can see why I need to run the route first. I could be the first person in the history of the race to run the wrong route, I know I could.

Anyway, after that I had a crappy run - slow pace, tired, not really into it. That screw up, combined with the fact that I wanted to get home to see the kids for a few minutes before they left for the rest of the day, combined with the fact that I had had a tired run the day before, and thought maybe I wasn't doing the best thing for myself by running again gave Mind the edge. I was a little disappointed - I wanted to leave good energy on the route to pick up on Sunday.

Sunday dawned bright and clear (okay, I was in bed when it dawned, but I'm assuming). I got up early, had some toast and coffee, took a shower, got dressed. I got the kids' breakfast ready, and then hauled Cam out of bed and dressed her unwilling self. Dexter woke up in a pissy mood. Bailey didn't want to get out of bed. Then Dexter didn't want me to leave. Do you think competitive runners have to deal with this before they run a race? I think not. Although I was supposed to be leaving with no kids, I ended up leaving with one kid who wanted desperately to come, and one kid who wanted desperately to stay. Luckily, my mother-in-law Pam graciously stepped up, and took over the kids once we arrived.

When we got to the university, I was expecting to be able to tell where I was supposed to go to register. I figured I would see the start line. I figured I would see runners streaming into the building I was supposed to go to. A band maybe. A banner. Anything. Instead, I couldn't tell anything, so we parked, and I went in search of the gym. Amazingly, we parked perfectly on the start line, and the building was the first place I found. Everything went smoothly until race time.

I stood behind the chalked startline, politely near the back, listening to the other runners chat. They all knew each other, it seemed, and I knew no one. I did enjoy eavesdropping though. I was surprised to see people running with kids in strollers, and envious to see a few couples racing together. Or at least in the same race. The gun went - people around me saying "was that the gun?" - not the most formal race in the world - and we were off. As I rounded the first corner, my own personal cheering section yelled loudly, and I felt good. I turned all the right corners, and at the 1 mile mark I was just over 8 minutes, so I knew my pace was good. Back of the pack, yep. But not the very back this time.

Near the end of the race, a heavily breathing older man wanted to pass me. I had already been passed several times, and learned that I HATE it. You say to yourself "Self, keep up with them. They were behind you up until now, they can't be that much better, just keep up." But for some reason, it is impossible. Anyhow, I ran with him for quite a while, but ended up fading a bit going up the last small slope, and he did come in ahead of me. It was a bit of mental victory to at least have staved off the passing for a bit - next time, I will keep up! As the runners went through the finish line, they were calling out times. I thought I heard someone say 34 minutes, and I was so disappointed. I felt that I had run the pace I was working towards, and that I should have been really close to my goal of 30 minutes. It flickered through my mind that it was 24 minutes, but I knew that was impossible.

When I got close enough to see the timer - it was at just 29 minutes! I crossed the finish line at 29:37. A personal best. And another goal met.

Speedy like a turtle

2005-04-13T08:10:00.000-03:00

Since I started running, I have been concentrating on building distance. I can't ever see running a marathon - as I've said, I can't think of anything I like to do for five hours straight. Nothing. And I'm not starting with running. I think I'll top out at around 10 miles/15 kilometers, somewhere in that range.

Which leaves speed as the other challenge. And I have to tell you - I am slow. When my distance was at its peak in the fall, it took me an hour to run 9K. The freakish 10K run that I did three weeks ago (out of the blue, my feet just took me one street further than my planned 7K route - but that worked out to an extra 3K to get home!) took me 80 minutes. 80 minutes of running, three weeks of recovery. Not the smartest thing I have ever done.

I am a plodder. My arms, while they do move, are really just flopping around uselessly. My heart rate holds steady, my breathing is easy. It's good. It's enjoyable. But you see, I have my heart set on running some races this summer. Last summer, I ran one 5K race, with the goal of finishing without stopping. Well, it turned out it was really a 4K race, and while I did finish, I was near the very back of the pack. Old ladies running with fanny packs passed me. The course cheerleaders (you're almost there! Only 3.5 more kilometers!) gave me looks of pity. The only person I passed slowed to a walk. My competitive nature is not too cool with that.

So, it is clear that if I am to do these races, I need to do some speedwork. I know the term - I see it in Runner's World magazine. But I am always to humbled by the performance and dedication of all of the hardbodied, eat sleep and breathe runners that are featured in there, so while I do read the articles, I never feel like they apply to casual runners like myself. They make me feel like running 5K is really just a warmup - almost a waste of time - not the fabulous accomplishment I know it to be. And that running 5K in 40 minutes is not something you should be talking about in public. Especially in such a widely read blog as this one.

So for the past two weeks, my runs have centered around speed. Which really means I just try to run faster. I'm sure you were expecting a more formal plan from someone like myself, but that's really it. I try to run faster. It feels funny to run harder - my plodding pace is very natural to me, and the effort I have to expend to run faster shocks me every time. If I start out running fast, I actually get out of breath within a few minutes. If I build up to it, I feel good. But when I really hit my new speedy stride, I feel awesome. I feel strong. My arms have purpose! My legs propel me forward! I fly downhill! I chew up the hills! I don't feel like a loser runner when I see people I know! It is a feeling worth cultivating, I tells ya.

If you want to see the pace I am shooting for, listen to Eminem's Lose Yourself. No, not the slow beginning. The beat of that song is the pace my feet like. Of course, I can only keep that pace for about the length of song. I run like a drunk runner now - my pace is erratic - I speed up, I slow down, I speed up again. All at random. Sometimes I slow down on purpose, just to check and make sure that I really was running faster.

So last weekend, I timed myself, expecting great things. I walked for three minutes, and than ran most of the rest of the way, finishing with another three or so minutes of walking (ending at the previously mentioned corner - I find my hip to be less sore with a longer cooldown, unfortunately). I figure I actually ran for 4.5K. That took me 30 minutes. So, I went and looked up times for the 5K runs here last year. And guess what? I am still going to be at the back of the pack. Speedy like a turtle.

My race is Sunday. Wish me luck. And speed.

For posterity

2005-04-12T10:03:00.000-03:00

5 donuts

late night english muffin with butter and pb

big pack of red licorice

movie popcorn

fabulous peanut butter chocolate cheesecake

9 mint chocolate covered oreos

chocolate easter eggs

Ugh. Don't even want to talk about it. Can you say "sabotage"?

Mind vs. Body

2005-04-11T09:30:00.000-03:00

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the show. Tonight we are featuring the war for Cathy's fitness, in a matchup between two strong foes - Mind and Body. So - let's get ready to rumble!!

In the left corner, we have Mind. Weighing in at around 3 pounds, this master of manipulation has one goal: to take things easy.

In the right corner, we have Body. Body weighs in at around 137 pounds (exclusive of Mind), and would you look at that outfit! Just fabulous. Body is strong, but wants to be stronger - fit, but wants to be more fit. So, lets see how Body matches up against brain!

And here we go.... the warmup walk has started. Brain is trying to extend the warmup walk - it's chanting that warm ups are good for people with hip problems. Body is fighting back, contending that this weekend's race is a FIVE kilometer run, not a ONE kilometer walk combined with a FOUR kilometer run. And it looks like Body will win this one - it's running.

And Mind is taking a beating - Body is running, down the hill, around the corner, and back up the hill. You can see that Body is not happy with the pace. Mind is whispering that a slow start is better, reminding Body of how out of breath it got last time. Mind is doing a good job, Body is running pretty slowly. And around the next corner they go - and, would you look at that! Body has picked up the pace - she's really moving now!

Oooohh - look at the move Mind is making. Mind is making the case for a shorter run. Let's listen!
" Turn left at the next corner, and you can be home in 10 minutes, instead of 25, Body. It'll be easier, but you'll still be getting a run in. You'll still be maintaining your fitness level. And it's all downhill - you can avoid that big giant awful hill at the end of the run. Come on, turn left, turn left."

What is Body going to do? Is it strong enough to withstand this barrage? It is! Body goes straight! This is big! What a victory for Body - no turning back now, 5K it is! And look at that pace! As Body hits the downhill, her stride picks up, her arms are pumping, and she is flying!

Okay, the downhill portion of the course is over, and we are on flat road again. Mind has not recovered from the beating it took - the music is drowning the only sounds Mind has been able to make. But it looks like Mind is getting ready to make its move! It wants to stop! Mind wants to stop. Mind remembers that last week, along this very stretch, for the first time it was able to make Body stop. Last week, Body had a cramp, and Mind was able to exploit that, but today Mind will have to work harder to win this battle. Mind is reminding Body that it is getting tired - that fast pace has slowed a bit, and that the big giant awful hill is coming. Body seems to be holding up, but Mind isn't giving up..... now Mind is saying that Body doesn't have to stop for long! Jus t a little stop. That Mind is clever, it knows that once Body stops, it is really hard to get going again. OH! Body just told Mind to fuck off! And look at Body go! Around the corner, and Body is just kicking that hill!

Almost to the home stretch, and Mind is at it again! Last time, Body told Mind that the end of the run would be the top of the hill, not the corner. Body wanted to run as much of the route as possible, while still having a healthy cooldown. Mind is trying to get Body to stop at the corner, like the last couple of times. Mind is saying it's only a few hundred feet, but it is a really frickin' hard few hundred feet. Body is rounding the corner! But she is slowing - is she going to stop? She's stopping! No! NO! She is keeping going. Can you believe this? She is keeping going and she is kicking up the hill, look at that! She is cresting the hill! And she is slowing to a walk. Body has beat the crap out of Mind on this run.

Congratulations, Body.

Move along

2005-04-08T13:55:00.000-03:00

Nothing to see here. Didn't want to break my posting streak, but, sad to say, I didn't run yesterday. The day got away on me, and it just didn't happen. Won't happen today either, or tomorrow, unless I can drag myself out of bed before Tony goes to bed. So, please, drop by on Monday.... when there could actually be a post with some content.

The transformation is complete. For now.

2005-04-07T07:58:00.000-03:00

I spent most of yesterday looking for some pants to run in. My giant pants got me through the winter, but without the layers, they are practically falling off. Luckily, Dex and Cam just love watching me try on clothes, and going in and out of every Zellers and Walmart in the vicinity. Not. I did go and ogle the pants at the sport's store, but they really are frickin' expensive.

I actually got lucky this time - Dex didn't crawl under the door of the change room and take off just after I finished stripping down, as he often does. And the bench in the changeroom was actually big enough for both of them for once, so Cam didn't push him off like she often does. Cam offered her fashion advice, and eventually, I bought a pair of shiny black yoga pants, with blue stripes down the side.

Which means, that from the outside - I now look like a runner. Finally. I have the jacket. I have the shoes. And now, I have the pants. Unfortunately, no one saw my fabulous new look, because I didn't get running until 10:30 last night. I had planned to go at 6:30, then out for coffee with my nameless friend Karen, but Tony gave me a movie pass to go see the premiere of Sahara. I haven't been to a grown up movie for a year; any movie would have been fun. It was good for a few laughs, and, while highly unbelievable, it was enjoyable. By the time I got home and psyched myself up for a run, it was dark and late, but I really wanted to justify my pants purchase, so off I went. 5K, really good pace for the first two-thirds, not bad on the last third. I was running with my MP3 player - perhaps not the best thing to do at night, although I am very careful - and a car coming up behind me honked at me, at a point when I was concentrating on not wiping out while running hard down a hill. Scared the piss out of me. I actually jumped, and my heart, which was already going at a good pace, nearly jumped out of my chest. My hip is very sore - must go and get that x-ray.

Hopefully today I will get out during the daylight, so everyone will get a chance to see how good I look. Because I only have a few weeks of looking like a runner. When the jacket comes off - the truth will revealed. It's only on the surface. Inappropriate shirts abound under that lovely jacket.

And on the ninth day,

2005-04-06T08:42:00.000-03:00

she rose from the couch. And she put on her giant pants, and her nice new running bra, and searched for a shirt to wear of a weight befitting the spring weather. The search being fruitless, she put on an inappropriate shirt - a nice mock-neck, long sleeved light purple shirt, with an uneven textured stripe, in case anyone wants to know. She laced her fancy running shoes, she put on her fancy running jacket, thus covering up her fashion faux pas, she retrieved her MP3 player from he who borrowed it, and didn't return it. Again. For the third time.

And she ran.

And it was hard.

And after the fourth minute, she noticed she was feeling the pain more than usual. After the fifth minute her giant pants were riding so low that her inappropriate shirt would not stay tucked in, allowing a steady draft of the cool ("spring") air to flow up her shirt. She decided she would just go home. Then she thought of how couch bound she had been, and how it had been nine days since her last run, and was only 13 days until her first race of the season. And she decided to do a shorter run, instead of going home.

Thus, after 15 minutes of running, she was still running. And she was finding that although it was easier, she was forced to slow her pace from the faster pace she has been working on, and lean a bit more toward the plodding pace she was used to. And she was so engrossed in running, she forgot to take the shortcut, and she ran the full 5K, which is all her hip will let her run at this point. And it was good. And she was thankful.

And she is going shopping for new running pants today.

Excuses, excuses

2005-04-04T09:39:00.000-03:00

I'm in a bit of a slump right now. I was doing very fabulously, eating well, exercising lots, looking good. And then something happened. I'd like to say that I know what it was, but unfortunately, I don't seem to be that self-enlightened. Whatever it was, its aftermath has left me lying on the couch, scarfing donuts, surfing channels, and ignoring the big piles of laundry that are threatening to take over my living room. And suddenly, my size fives are a little too snug.

So what is it that I think happened? Well, I think it was the weather. Very Canadian of me, I know. But really. It is supposed to be spring, and it's just not. Alright, it is, but it isn't the kind of spring I like. I like my spring served with a side of sunshine, and an order of tulips. Instead, it's all doused with neverending rain. And, I'm ashamed to admit it - but I am a weather wimp. I pretty much never talk myself out of a run on a nice, sunny day. But give me sub-zero temps, or wind, or snow, or rain, or sleet, or drizzle, or even a good fog, and the excuses start coming. Bed is too cozy. I'll do it later. I probably should take another day off for the good of my hip anyway. It's supposed to clear up later in the day. Running's not really good for you anyway. This problem is much worse in the morning - I have been completely unable to get up lately for my morning workouts. Must be because of Daylight Savings. Yep, that's it, Daylight Savings.

Goals set, goals met

2005-04-02T09:16:00.000-04:00

A friend of mine, who shall remain nameless, has decided to take a stab at running. We were talking about what I had done, when a little thought poked itself into my head. Didn't I write about my early running experiences? Didn't I a have a - what's it called, now - a blog? So I told Karen about my blog - I had to do some work to remember where it was - no thanks to Google, btw, in case anyone reading this works there - and I emailed her the link.

But then I started reading. And hot damn, I was pretty funny. I'm not even sure why I stopped - I guess it was because I was so busy running, I just didn't have time to write about it. Actually, the real reason is that it is exhausting being this funny, and I just couldn't keep it up. So this post is actually going to be a very serious post.

It's about goals. When I wrote my first post, these were the goals that I posted:

I want to be in better shape
I want to be thinner
I want to do things for me
I want to have really nice legs and a nice butt
I want to have goals, and accomplish them

So, let's examine them.

I want to be in better shape.
I am in fantastic shape. I can run 10K, and even walk the next day. Okay, I did that once, and didn't walk until the next day. But really - if I have to run somewhere quickly, like in and out of the liquor store, I don't even change my breathing. I can run from the basement to the tippy top (six flights of stairs) without even noticing. And in my fitness class that I go to with my nameless friend Karen, I kick ass. Karen has actually pushed me because my bounciness has so irritated her. Goal accomplished.

I want to be thinner.
While currently my weight is in flux, I am down to around 140 - highschool range for me. I am wearing somewhere between a size 5 and 7, after a lifetime of somewhere between size 14 and 16. I would like to be thinner still, but nevertheless, I would have to say - Goal accomplished.

I want to do things for me
Running really changed my outlook in this area. Where before I felt a bit guilty carving out time for myself, and would pretty much never leave it was causing anyone distress, I now know that the small negatives in this area are vastly outweighed by the positive benefits. Not just to me, but to those in distress. The kids get a happier, healthier mother. Tony gets a happier, healthier wife, who has a lot more endurance, if ya know what I mean. The kids are really used to it now too - they recognize my running clothes (slightly improved since my early runs, although still lacking), and are mostly pretty accepting. I go to the aforementioned fitness class, and even out for coffee after. It's all good. Goal accomplished.

I want to have really nice legs and a nice butt
Blush. Goal accomplished.

I want to have goals, and accomplish them
Obviously, Goal accomplished.

I actually have some new goals, but I'll save them for another day. And in case you forgot to mark it on your calendars.....my blog turned one on Thursday. I'm sure your cards and presents were just delayed. And I have now been running for one year and two weeks. Goal accomplished.

Forgive me Father, for I have sinned....

2004-08-09T11:08:00.000-03:00

It has been many weeks since my last blog entry (well, not counting the last one.) In the time since my last entry, a sister that was not a doctor now is. A brother who had a home is now homeless. New friends have been made. Family has moved from the west to the east. And baby - the pounds are going south!

Yet another book has influenced my life. This time, aside from finally clarifying in my mind much of the nutritional information that was kind of floating aimlessly up there, I had a weight loss light bulb. The only time I have ever tried to lose weight was after Dexter. Okay, I did go on a diet in grade eight, but it probably wasn't necessary. Since I was skinny back then. Unlike the first two pregnancies, the weight did not exit politely - nine months on, nine months off. In fact, it rudely stuck around, clinging for dear life to hips and belly. I lost my mind for a bit, and actually tried the low carb thing. Luckily, I regained my sanity, and slowly the weight came off. I am actually thirty pounds lighter now than at that point.

Which is great, right? Well, maybe not so great as I think it is. Maybe I have been tricking myself all along about how overweight I was. And maybe when study after study shows that even a slight amount of extra weight can be hazardous to your health, maybe an ideal weight of twenty pounds over what the experts say is not actually ideal. In fact, maybe my ideal weight is what the experts would say, not what my own excuse-laden mind wants it to be (I mean, look at the size of my wrists. My breasts. I'm just big boned, that's all. Those weight guidelines aren't for people built like me, they are for those other, more normal people). Maybe, for once, just this once, the experts are right. So, I'm trying that on for size. Size 10, actually. I figure that's what I would be if I actually got in the middle of my BMI range. And since I haven't worn size 10 since maybe - oh, grade 10 - it was a big mind shift.

So, I now have weight goals as well as running goals. And I suppose, shopping goals. Since none of my clothes will fit by Christmas.

Just dropping by to say.....

2004-08-02T14:54:00.000-03:00

Yesterday, I did something I never ever thought I would do. No, not that, whatever you dirty minds are thinking. I ran in the Natal Day 5K race here. Yep. And I didn't even finish last.

Music to my ears.

2004-05-20T08:21:00.000-03:00

I've had several experiences with music and running now. The first one was in April, when I was running 3/walking 3. Now, this is probably not cool, but I borrowed a player from the ten year old across the road. Like she would say no, even if she desperately didn't want to lend it.

So, I slapped in my (burned, clean version) Eminem Show CD, and off I went. Oh wonder, oh joy - the sound of that boy in my ears was distracting, it was motivating, and it was somehow.... not quite right. It was one of the first beautiful sunny days, a day off from school for the kids. People were out everywhere, playing, talking, laughing. Somehow, the not so gentle lyrics I was singing in my head were out of sync. I wasn't as aware of the sun shining on me, so much as the beat of rap music. I was oblivious to the smiles people gave me, because I was concentrating on messages of hate. You see the imbalance? However, I will say, I kicked up the hills thanks to Mr. Mathers. Bottom line - although I enjoyed it, I am not sure that I want to listen to music all the time. Which was good, since at this point it wasn't an option.

Fast forward a couple of weeks. Again, I uncoolly borrow a player - this time from the teenage babysitter. Our normal weather had returned, so it was a foggy day, and I didn't think it would feel as out of sync. I wanted the same CD, so off Slim Shady and I went. Although she had warned of the problem with her player, I was unaware of how terribly annoying it was going to be. The headphones only worked in one ear. Do you know what it sounds like to have someone yelling at you in one ear only? I tell you, if you are going to yell at me, you need to yell in both ears. Or else. But. But, every once in a while, for no apparent reason, the other ear would kick in. Just for a couple of seconds. But, those seconds were enough to convince me that if I just wiggled the end enough, or shook the player enough, or chanted the right spell, it would work. So, I listened it to it the whole way. 26 minutes and 50 seconds of yelling in one ear. All because of 10 seconds of yelling in two ears.

Then, on Mother's Day, I received my own player, the cheapest of the cheap. It was as skippy as could be - the only thing worse than a rapper yelling in one ear, is one skipping repeatedly. I took it back (I was apprehensive, because I knew I was missing a part of the cardboard from the packaging, and I thought they might try to arrest me for that.) Then, I took my money, went to Walmart, added 20 bucks, and got me a CD player that says right on it "Jogging". I figured if it was okay for jogging, it was probably OK for running - it was 45s skip protection, RCA - $40.

Now, I knew I didn't want anyone yelling at me, so I decided to take a different tack. So, last Thursday, I put in Tori Amos' Little Earthquakes, one of my all time favourite CDs. I thought knowing the lyrics would be distracting, and make the time fly by. I thought the softer CD would be less jarring, more compatible with the feeling of peace I seek when running. I was so so wrong. I did a quick test to make sure I wanted to listen to it before I left. The first track, Crucify, is fairly upbeat, and tricked me. Here are a sampling of what I was listening to:

"Snow can wait, I forgot my mittens
Wipe my nose, get my new boots on"
(Really, I don't want to think about winter any more. Or snot.)

"And if I die today I'll be the happy phantom
And I'll go chasin' the nuns out in the yard "
(What does that mean?)

"China, all the way to New York
I can feel the distance, getting close "
(Okay, lyrically it ain't awful, but this is a really whiny song. Did NOT make me want to run, but instead to crawl into bed. With a bag of cookies)

"Look I'm standing naked before you
Don't you want more than my sex "
(This was actually a good one - the thought of standing naked before anyone was enough to get me up the hill)

"Oh, God, could it be the weather
Oh, God, why am I here "
(This could have been my theme song for the first couple of weeks, but now, really, I'm sure you can see how this might be demotivating for someone running 22 minutes)

Finally, I just stopped the CD player, and put the headphones around my neck, and just ran. I was at one with nature. I was aware of everything around me. I was a little depressed, after all the Tori. But, at least she didn't skip.

Food, glorious food!

2004-05-19T11:57:00.000-03:00

Today is a good day. I got up, had a shower, meditated a bit, made coffee, did a load of laundry, all before the kids got up. Then I went and got my new watch (more on that another post), and did my fitness class (more than three thousand steps - more on that in another post, too). I actually enjoyed the post-class coffee today - I guess I am finally losing my new person status, and am more able to join in different conversations than before. A quick by myself grocery pickup, and then home.

Although I am sure you can see how lovely my morning was (okay, well, maybe only if you have small children can you see the beauty in uninterrupted laundry and groceries), that isn't the real reason that today is a good day. Today is a good day because today marks the end of the challenge. I have completed six weeks without chocolate, including anything chocolate flavoured, cookies or real coke. And while it absolutely got easier, it was definitely a challenge right through to the end of yesterday.

Examples: I bravely bought a bag of Oreos for the kids last week. Not surprisingly, when I am not eating cookies, a bag lasts for days, not hours! Now, Oreos are such a favourite of mine, people have actually given them to me as gifts. Yep, gift wrapped and everything. Not only did I not eat any, but someone left one out in the open on the top of the microwave for hours, and I didn't touch. Oh, I wanted it. Bad. Real bad. And no one was around. No one would ever know. But, I didn't. I just asked someone if they were trying to play a cruel joke on me by leaving it there.

A couple of weeks ago, I opened a huge bar of chocolate to use for cheesecake garnish. (I made a fudge truffle cheesecake for Bailey's school fundraiser.) Not one morsel of that cake passed my lips. Since I needed to be sure it tasted good, I had Tony taste it before I gave it away. True story about my cheesecake - someone bought it for $15, even though it was supposed to be a prize. So that gives you an idea of how irresistible the cake itself was. Now, back to the bar of chocolate. It is huge. Milk chocolate. There is drool on the package. But, I have successfully resisted this open bar of chocolate for almost two weeks.

I could go on and on and on listing all the tough times I faced... but I'll spare you. Suffice it to say - it's over! I made it! I can eat my beautiful chocolate and cookies. I considered staying up past midnight to indulge myself, or perhaps bathing in melted chocolate (I told you it was a big bar), but have held off still. There is something romantic about stretching out the moment, both the chocolate and I knowing that we will be together soon. I do plan to talk to the chocolate about how we won't be spending so much time together in the future. I hope the chocolate handles it okay, although I am actually more worried about what the cookies are going to say.

So, thanks for your words of support. I am off for my rendezvous with a giant bar of chocolate. Wish us well.

Altered consciousness. At last.

2004-05-15T10:34:00.000-03:00

In my last post, I referred to "feeling good". I want to be truthful here. I think I was high.

I have been wondering at what point I would experience this thing called "runner's high". Although the running has become much easier - the first five minutes are almost not painful at all - I still never have felt really good doing it. Now, I don't have a lot of experience getting high, so I wondered if maybe I had already experienced it, and not known what it was.

I had all the big hills behind me, and was still pretty full of energy. As I rounded a corner, I found myself admiring the way the streetlights caught the fog. Then I realized, that I felt pretty good. So good. So good. That I burst into song....

"I feel good. Doo doo doo doo doo doo do.
I knew that I would. Doo doo doo doo doo doo do.
So good. Doo doo.
So fine. Doo doo.
'Cause I got you! Doo doo doo."

Yep. Sang the "doo doo"s. Gave a little hip wiggle. It must be the drugs right? Endorphins, I mean.

2 true stories involving fat

2004-05-15T09:31:00.000-03:00

A few weeks ago (April 11th, to be exact), I went for a "run". This was before I got sick, I was at the end of the second week of three minute intervals, and I was feeling pretty good. It was one of the first days I wore shorts. As it turned out, it was premature - I had to pull my bandana over my ears, and stick my hands up my sleeves, even at the height of my heartbeat, but it provides context to this story.

You see, I have pretty good legs. Through all of the baby bearing, and years of neglect, they didn't really get fat. The thickness of the tops of my thighs had spread down towards my knees, and for a while there, I had that awful uncomfortable thigh rubbing thing going on, but they always looked pretty good. Especially my calves. Now remember, I was wearing shorts, so my legs were on display. As I "ran" along a fairly flat section of road, early in my "run", so I still had some spring in my step, I heard: "Hey Fat woman!". Since there was a teenager in front of me, I assumed that it was my insecurity showing, and that someone was paging that person. But again: "Hey fat woman." And then to make it perfectly clear: "You, in the sweatshirt!"

Can you believe that? I kind of laughed to myself, and kept on "running", but really it wasn't that funny. Maybe I should have turned around and ran my fat self right over the insulting bastard. Then he'd know fat.

To add to my embarrassment, I had big splatter of cake batter on my arm. Since my normal reaction to stressful situations is to eat sugar, I did consider licking my arm. I restrained myself - but to avoid looking at that big splotch, I refrained from looking at my watch as often as normal, and ended up frequently checking at exactly three minutes, mending my relationship with time, and ending the long stream of 1:40s I have endured.

The second fat story happened this week. After my successful 16 minute runs, I was really excited to run when Tony got home on Tuesday. However, after a long evening of trying to get everyone to sleep, I was quite happy to stay in bed for the rest of the evening. Tony came in from playing basketball, all self-righteously glowing, and told me to "Get my fat ass out of bed, and get running." Now you would think I would be angry, upset, insulted - but I realized it was his version of a motivational speech. It worked.

I got my fat ass out of bed, put on my shoes, and headed out. I did the loop to Bailey's school, and ran TWENTY TWO CONSECUTIVE MINUTES - the entire time, except for a three minute warm up walk. Not only did I run for all that time, I felt good. At the very end, there is a fairly gentle incline (relative to some of the hills around here), and I SPRINTED UP IT. Did you get that that was at the end?! I felt like a million bucks when I got home, and completely forgave the fat ass. Comment I mean.

The chocolate ban

2004-05-13T09:40:00.000-03:00

Here is this week's list:

FV Cappuccino

2 butter tarts

peanut brittle (3 pieces)

3 pieces (small) carrot cake

2 pieces coconut pie

So did you notice that the list is much shorter this week? And there is only one week left in the chocolate/coke/cookie ban. Obviously there has been a positive effect from the ban, but I still crave all of them a lot. Not the Coke, since I have simply replaced that with Caffeine Free Diet Coke (which, although not ideal, as Tony says is probably not a bad vice as vices go), but the chocolate and cookies. And just sugar in general.

I thought that once I blocked myself from eating those things, the cravings would die down. And they are less. But no where near gone. I am worried that once the ban is lifted, I will just go back to eating whatever I want. I really want to go sugar free for a week, and see if that helps, but I am afraid. Of failure. And of intense cravings. And of beating someone up because of the intense cravings. I actually told myself that the last week of the ban, I would drop all sugar. But I didn't plan on the last week coinciding with PMS. So I am weak, and I can't do it. Maybe next week.

Mother's Day

2004-05-13T09:09:00.000-03:00

(Blogging in real time again. You know, I heard the end of a whole story on CBC yesterday about the blogosphere - anyone hear it? I was waiting for them to mention my blog, but I must have missed it at the beginning!)

You would think that on a day such as Mother's Day, a day of pampering and leisure, I would not even think about running. After being brought coffee in bed - well, actually, it was a coffee-like beverage, since Tony just "guessed at how many beans and how much water", coffee virgin that he is. And actually, I wasn't in bed, I was on my way down the stairs. So after being brought a coffee-like beverage on the stairs, and while waiting to be served a yummy french toast breakfast with two kinds of bacon - all runners need bacon, right? - I opened my presents.

My presents were wrapped to my liking (in pillowcases) and piled on the table. There were three of them, plus a big hanging basket of flowers, which I shall enjoy killing slowly over the next month or two. I just have to decide whether I want to use sun-deprivation or dehydration as my modus operandi. Now, I am sure that in the past few weeks, I have dropped enough hints that I wanted new running shoes. The question was, did anyone (read: Tony) pick up on them, or, like so many things I say, did it just pass from one ear to the other?

After a brief argument about whose present I would open first, Cam passed me hers. Bailey told me that all my presents were for "R", so I figured I was in good shape. Yep, felt like a box. I opened it, and lo and behold, new running shoes. New Balance ones, like all the cool kids have. Aren't you thrilled for me? Well, actually, they didn't fit, but the future bodes well. The other presents were a CD player for "R" and batteries for the CD player - the good kind, not the dollar store kind.

Although Tony kindly left the price tag on for me, I have decided not to count the cost of these items as running costs. They are Mother's Day costs.

After brunch, me and my CD player went out for a run (no quotes!). I decided to try to repeat my performance of Thursday, and see if it was just a fluke or not. In the back of my mind, I thought maybe I would do a third loop and run for 23 or 24 minutes. Since Tony bought the CD player he knew I wanted (the cheapest one), it was completely useless for running. It skipped like crazy. If you want to be really irritated, listen to Obie Trice skipping like crazy. Rappers are skippy enough - they don't need help. So, I will have to upgrade the player, but at least I know that I tried to be cheap.

I was too irritated (well, honestly, I was too tired) to run the third loop. But I did do the full 16 minutes of running again. It wasn't a fluke. I am relieved.

I. am. a runner.

2004-05-07T10:52:00.000-03:00

This is a post in real time, because I am too excited. And any faithful reader who has hung in through all my butt picking, breast bouncing, uphill plodding "runs" deserves a little lightness from me.

As you might know, my running has been splotchy of late, in some part because Tony's grandmother is engaged in dying right now. (That's not the light part). So last night (for real), by the time we got home and had dinner, I had only time for a twenty minute outing. I decided that I must make the most of it. I didn't want to drop the amount of running I was doing (fifteen minutes), so I crunched the numbers, and came up with a 3 minute warm up, 8 minute run, 2 minute walk, 7 minute run. Since I took the two weeks off, I knew this was ambitious, but ya know, I am just that kind of woman.

I have learned that if I assign myself a topic to think about, the time passes easily. Some of the things I have considered: I have built some characters for a book I am thinking on, written amazing blog entries, planned all the baking I needed to do for the Spring Fair at B's school, and listed all the things I like about Tony. Brown. Just kidding. I knew that I when I said I was thinking interesting thoughts, you all wondered what I was thinking - well wonder no more, now you know. So I assigned my topic (should I stop watching TV/using the computer recreationally), and the first five minutes went by fairly easily.

When I looked at my trusty timepiece, and saw that five minutes had already gone by, I decided I would run as long as I felt okay - thinking maybe ten minutes. I finished my first loop, started round my second, which was downhill. That gave me my spirit back, and I set a goal of running the entire time. Near the end, I hit the steepest uphill. Although various body parts were complaining, I actually felt okay. I told my body to quit its whining, and just keep going. And here's the best part - it did! As I rounded the corner to my street, I slowed to a walk. I have come full circle. For the first time since the initial week, I ran the short loop by house. At that time, I ran six one minute sessions. Last night, I ran the entire time, for a total of sixteen minutes.

What does this mean for you, you ask? Well, it means that whenever I refer to a run that happens after today - I will no longer use quotes. I think that is deserving of being called a real run. Don't you?

Time Passages

2004-05-04T09:34:00.000-03:00

I've been really enjoying my watch. Compared to the tiny timepiece I was using before, this is accurate, and now that I have the beeps under control, it's easy to use.

But I just can't resist playing games with it. My favourite game is to try to keep from looking at my watch until it is time to switch my activity - to start walking, or to stop running, my two favourite times. But the weirdest thing is happening. I have lost my touch with time. I am pretty good with the passage of time. I have that sixth sense that my oven timer is about to go. I can calculate with pretty good accuracy how much I can get done in a certain amount of time. Others in my family (who shall remain nameless) think that they can do four times as much as is reasonable in a given amount of time. For example, they might think that they can cook breakfast, play a game of Playstation football, and it will only be 11:00. Even though said nameless person didn't get into the kitchen until 11:15.

I'm still on the three minute cycle, so the game is to try to look at my watch as close to three minutes as possible (and if I am running, without going over). I do my thing, and when I hear the siren call of my watch, I ignore it. I know time well enough to know that when you are waiting for it to pass, it pokes fun at you by passing as slowly as it can. And when you are running uphill, you are definitely open for poking. When I think the time is right, I boldly take a peek. One minute, forty seconds. That means I was one minute and twenty seconds off - not a lot if you are trying to guess how long it takes to drive to Toronto, but come on - in a three minute window? That's just pathetic.

Perhaps I will do better walking. After all, there is nothing hard or painful about walking. I just have to resist the call, that's all. So, I think interesting thoughts - let me tell you, if I could blog while I was running, you would all be amazed at my talents. And I look. One minute forty seconds. I kid you not. In the course of my three minute runs, I am bizarrely in tune with this time. Sometimes it is 39 seconds, sometimes 42 - but almost always in this range. Even when I tell myself to wait, so that at least if I'm not at three minutes, I won't be at the same number.... I am. And I have no hypothesis as to why that is. Even though I have spent one minute and forty seconds thinking about it.

She's baaaack......

2004-05-03T15:23:00.000-03:00

Well. Sorry about that. I had an unexpected, unplanned, undesirable fall off the wagon. I'd like to thank you all for your calls and letters, the flowers, the support. I apologize for not being here to amuse and motivate you. I haven't run for a couple of weeks, and it seems that if I am not running, I can't blog (even though I have a backlog of runs to write about). The children were sick. I was sick. And then, (the horror) I was unmotivated. I just didn't feel like it. The thought of running was as appealing as the thought of eating my own snot. And I had lots of it.

So what did I do with my lack of motivation? I wallowed in it. I felt sorry for myself about how hard it is to find the time to go running. I wondered why I ever thought I would be able to stick this out, given my historic lack of attention span. I learned more about how to eat around the chocolate/coke/cookie moratorium. For example, did you know that gummy bears contain no chocolate, bear no resemblance to cookies, and are not drinkable?

And I lost weight. CAN YOU FUCKING BELIEVE THAT? I lost weight. I finally fell under the 160 mark, a number I have not seen since I was on the way up the dial. Which means early university, probably. Good thing I don't live by the scale, because I would be done with this exercising thing. As it is, I am reasonable enough to understand that it is probably a loss of muscle that caused the weight loss. And that it isn't relevant - it is more healthy to exercise than not to exercise. But somehow, that just doesn't seem - right.

Anyway, I ran yesterday. It was good. Someday I hope to blog about it. For now, I shall go and have a caffeine free Diet Coke, munch a few carrots, and plan my next run. Thanks for coming back, and I hope to see you again.

Things are getting serious.

2004-04-22T10:07:00.000-03:00

It's been more than six years since I had my first baby. Aside from the obvious life changes that a baby brings (stretch marks, sleepless nights, sniffing butts - just to give you a few that start with the letter "s"), babies have kept me at home. Most of the time. And when I'm away from home, they are almost always with me. They are with me when I sleep. They are with me when I shower. They are with me when I sh..... okay, you get the picture, right?

Today, I hired a babysitter to watch the kids while I went running. And not just any babysitter. A teenage babysitter (who I have in the past used as a mother's helper). I have never done this before. I use babysitters so rarely that Bailey has been known to ask us to go out, so she can get a break from us. And the babysitters have either been family, or my friend Tara, child-care provider extraordinaire. This is a big deal. And while I was mildly stressed about it, I felt OK. It's only thirty minutes, right? Really, what can go wrong in thirty minutes? They can't starve. They don't need to go to sleep. They can't get to like her better than me in that short of a time, can they?

So, off I went. The time of day was completely different than my normal time. I have mostly been running in the morning, but today it was after school, since I was at the mercy of teenage scheduling. I had to run by a lot of teenagers, all on their way home from school. I try to avoid people in general when I am running, partly because I am sort of concentrating, or timing, or thinking interesting thoughts. And partly because I don't want to see their looks of pity as I struggle up a hill, or of laughter at my goofy exercising walk. I avoid teenagers in particular, because they, more than anyone, would be aware of how uncool my clothes are. However, they were all polite, and if they were laughing at me, they kept it to themselves 'til I was past.

And finally, to further demonstrate the seriousness that I place on my "running", I got thoroughly rained on. It was slightly raining when I left, and raining in earnest by the time I was done. Iwore my tights, and let me tell you, I was pining for my water resistant polyester track pants. And for a hat that didn't climb my head.

When I got back, Cam and Dex were sitting in the front door with the babysitter, waiting for me. But they were happy, and there had been no crying. Bailey was still downstairs, playing with her friend. Not only did she not notice I was gone, I don't think she noticed she had a babysitter. I'm not sure if I want to do that again - it seems like they might forget that I am the center of their universe. And if I am not that, what am I?

I guess I don't embarrass easily enough.

2004-04-19T09:07:00.001-03:00

Here is this week's list:

fairy gingerbread
1/2 pan, (2 pieces with whipped cream)

Big Xtra, medium fries

4 pieces of Domino's Pepperoni Feast pizza, several pieces of Chicken Kickers

2 TH FV Cappuccinos

4 too many pancakes with butter and syrup

Harvey's Grilled Chicken Pita, a few onion rings, a few fries

Small bag of BBQ Lay's potato chips

I have always thought of myself as someone who embarrasses easily. I hate saying the wrong thing, I hate putting myself out there if there is any risk that someone doesn't want me to, and I generally don't do goofy things. I'm the one who never does the bird dance, and who won't participate in the funny face making contests. I don't play practical jokes (in case someone doesn't think they're funny), and sometimes I can't give gifts I have bought (in case the recipient doesn't like it). All because I am afraid of being embarrassed. In my family, I am considered to be a party pooper. (Not that I would EVER poop at a party. Far too embarrassing.)

I guess I have to rethink this. Who in their right mind would continue to eat the amount of junk I do, knowing that it would be posted on the web for all to see and judge? Wouldn't a person with a low tolerance for embarrassment maybe stop eating so much crap? Or at least lie about the crap said person was eating? I think so. So, I guess I no longer embarrass easily.

The next time you see me, I'll probably be doing the bird dance, while making a funny face and holding an Ultimate Burger.

Wardrobe Malfunction

2004-04-17T16:16:00.000-03:00

No, my breast wasn't exposed by Justin Timberlake - he hasn't been around for awhile. Justin - if you're reading - call me.

This one is about my hat. My toque, as I have been calling it; I like the Canadian ring to the word "toque". Hat can mean so many things, but a toque can only be a toque. And mine, borrowed from Tony, is a Rangers toque. It's much tougher than I am.

When I leave the house, with my toque pulled snugly down over my ears, I feel warm and cozy. During my goofy warm up walk, everything is good, ears protected, forehead nice and dry (since it is usually raining or snowing - miracle of miracles it is sunny and around two degrees today). The problem starts when I "run". With every step I take, my toque starts to climb my head. My ears get uncovered, and I can feel an unbecoming puffing up of the toque on the top of my head. You know, between the outdated wardrobe, the inappropriate footwear, the weather, and the constant battle with my munchy bum, you'd think I didn't need this hat problem. And I don't get it - why does it happen?

Does my head swell when I start running? Does the increased heart rate shake my skin so much that it pounds my hat off? When I pound the pavement, do little puffs of air push the hat off my head? Do I "run" so fast that it blows my hat off? Does the toque hate the "running" part so much that it is trying to escape? Whatever the reason, it makes me crazy. If anyone knows the cause of this phenomenon, please let me know. It would be most helpful.

My "run" was good today. I added a little side street that made it exactly the right length. I had been having to run past my street and then backtrack in order to fulfill my contractual obligations with regards to number of minutes of running. Something about backtracking is just so unappealing, so I am glad that little road is in my route now. It altered things a bit though, so that two of the five runs are basically completely uphill. But, I am getting used to plodding, so that's just fine with me. And my toque.

A post in real time - strange things are a happenin'

2004-04-16T10:15:00.000-03:00

Most of my posts actually did not happen the day I posted. I really want to record the whole story, and didn't start blogging right away. The result is that I have "blog time" and "real time". A bit of clarification then:

All "running" posts happen in blog time.

Food posts happen in real time, unless they are incorporated into a running post, in which the above takes precedence.

The sidebar is in real time, with the exception of the money. It was too confusing for Rob, so it will be updated in blog time.

Real time is currently about three weeks ahead of blog time.

According to section 1 of the Act governing this blog, this post should wait. Or at least half of this post should wait, since half pertains to food, and half pertains to running. So, I must add a fifth section to keep order here:

The writer of this blog may do whatever the hell she damn well pleases, no matter how confusing it is the readers of this blog.

The happenings of yesterday, while unfortunate, show that this project is now officially affecting my brain.

Here's my first story. Since I can't eat cookies, I have not been offering them to the kids at all. I bravely drive my cart past the cookie aisle at the grocery store. The last bag of Quattro cookies is safely closed, and stored in the garage. When the bag is closed, the voice of the cookies is muffled, and much easier to tune out. The four batches of chocolate chip cookie dough are still in the freezer. A couple of days ago, I took a batch out to cook for the kids. As it thawed, its voice thawed with it. And the dough started calling to me. "Cathy" in a whisper. "Cathy, don't you love me any more?" a bit louder. As soon as I realized what was happening, I stuffed it back in the freezer, and as the freezer-caused laryngitis developed, it elimated their pull.

Yesterday, I decided I would tough it out. I thawed the dough, the girls got them in the pan, and I baked them. I took them off the pan, served them up, and didn't even eat the teeniest crumb. As a matter of fact, Dexter is sitting on my lap rignt now, eating one. It wasn't even that hard (although I did ask Tony to put them somewhere, in case they started calling again. I was hoping he would put them somewhere sneaky, so it would be hard for me to find them, even if they did call, but I don't really think the cookie jar is sneaky, do you?)

The second bit of weirdness is the running. It is very hard for me to get out as much as I want. Tony has two days off, but on one of them I have a fitness class, so I don't run. The other day is my only guaranteed easy time to run. A couple of times I have thought I could run after one of his "short" days - when he is done at six, and it hasn't worked out. Last night was a short day, and I was feeling unmotivated, it was rainy, but Tony pumped me up, and gave me the motivation I needed to get out there. But here is what happened.

6:45 Tony should be home soon, so I get the kids in the bath, so he can just finish them up, and I can get them to sleep before Survivor, the highlight of my TV watching week, starts. Get my running duds on.
7:10 Get Bailey and Dexter out of the bath, start the grooming process.
7:30 Get Cam out, send them down to watch TV while I nurse Dexter to sleep.
7:50 Get Cam in bed, start nursing her to sleep. Getting anxious about running, wondering where Tony is.
7:55 Tony comes home
8:10 Cam almost asleep. Dexter wakes up.
8:40 Finally get Dexter back to sleep. While up there, discover that Cam has shit in the tub, and not told me. Leave it, and go back down to Cam, hoping she has fallen asleep. Nope. Tony is reading her a story. Wreck their quiet peaceful mood with my frustration, get back to putting Cam to sleep. Decide that I will miss the first part of Survivor to run.
8:58 Cam asleep. Tony read Bailey her chapter so I could catch the beginning of Survivor.
8:59 Look outside. It is very very dark. It is raining. I am pissed off that I have to make this choice. Decide to put on comfy fat clothes, and eat pizza in front of Survivor instead. Maybe I'll run when the Apprentice starts instead.
9:20 Have eaten three pieces of pizza. Dexter wakes up. Bring him down with me. Proceeds to nurse and sleep fitfully until 11:00, when I take him to bed.

So, it was a crappy night in some ways, but here is the kicker. I really really wanted to get out to run. In fact, I was so pissed off and frustrated that I couldn't, that I was practically in tears. If I was a less controlled person, I would have bawled like a baby. How's that for progress?

I am not so enlightened that I didn't really enjoy my pizza, my flannels, and my Survivor though. Someone better kick me if I get that enlightened.

Promotion - denied.

2004-04-15T09:47:00.000-03:00

It's Monday morning, the day I am supposed to get my promotion to running three minutes. I am nervous though, because the boss has called me into her office.

"Good morning, Cathy", she says. "Or, should I say, good afternoon. You haven't even thought about running, yet, have you?"

"Well," I stammer. "It's not really my fault. Tony is working all day, and Nanny is in the hospital. I'm trying."

"Really? You call two runs in 8 days "trying". Look, if you ever want to remove the quotes from around the word running on your blog, you are going to have to get out 3 to 4 times a week. You need to come up with solutions."

"You're right. Do you think the kids would be okay home alone for half an hour?"

She raises her eyebrows at me. "Realistic solutions. Hire a babysitter. Get up in the morning before the kids. You have to figure out how to get what you want."

"I thought I was. I haven't done anything for me in more than six years - I think running even twice a week is huge for me." I am trying to stay calm. The last time I was reamed out by a boss like this was almost four years ago. I won't let her make me cry.

"It is progress. But if you want what you say you want - step it up. Now, look, I know you think you are getting your promotion today. But you haven't earned it. You'll have to stay at two minutes this week. Come see me next week, and we'll talk. That is all."

I start to argue, then think the better of it. I do think she's taking this a tad too seriously, but there's just no point when she's in that kind of mood. I'll run the two minutes again for this week. But, man, I better get promoted next week.

Enter real life.....

2004-04-14T14:30:00.000-03:00

It's been five days since I last "ran". But why, Cathy?, I can hear you all asking. You have been doing so amazingly fantastically unpredictably well. Real life is why. Pam was busy with her mom for the first couple of days, and now she has gone home. So, I have to figure out how to fit in running without a live in childcare provider. I knew the day would come, but I didn't think it would be so hard. Hopefully this won't be the derailment of this project. Tony is very supportive, it's just hard squeezing out the time.

So, this was my second day doing the two minute "runs", and it was both good and bad. The theme of today's run is "It was freakin' windy". It was good when the wind was behind me. Then, I just flew along. Of course, that was during the downhill portion of the run - the part I really can manage quite well without the wind, thankyouverymuch. Once I turned up Dorothea (hill from hell), the wind was in my face. And oh. my. goddess. I think I have explained before how I just plod going up hill - and this is the worst hill there is. The force of the wind almost outweighed the force my legs were able to exert. Plodding would be an exaggeration - as a matter of fact, I should probably say I "plodded" up that hill.

In addition to blowing directly into my face, chest, and in one ear and out the other, the wind apparently was blowing straight down as well. I was very heavy today - my legs seemed to weigh much more than normal on my second, third, fourth, and fifth runs. However, I did successfully complete the task, and when I blew back into the house, I was quite pleased with myself.

I also picked up my eating habits this week. I have been eating mostly bread, cookies, a regular supper, and coke for a long time now - although everyone else in my family gets carefully planned and prepared nutritious meals, somehow I fail to extend that courtesy to myself. So, in honour of myself, I have used Dr. Phil's rapid start menu plans as a basis for this week's meal planning, and included a column for myself in the meal plans.

And finally, I have discovered the cure for munchy bum while running. Wear fat underwear. I generally don't, but have three pairs of Fruit of the Loom, really ugly, big underwear. I bought them in a fit of pique early post partum, when I felt about as sexy as those underwear. They didn't creep up at all - not even once. I knew I was saving them for something!

I got a promotion!

2004-04-13T11:13:00.000-03:00

Today, instead of run 1 minute, walk 1 minute (6x), I ran 2 minutes, then walked 2-3 minutes (5x). The pressing question is, of course, was it twice as hard?

The answer, happily, is no! And I think there are two reasons why:

My wardrobe change. A few months back, I picked up a pair of leggings at a thrift store. I used to love wearing leggings with a long sweater - I have good legs, so it showed my assets to their best advantage. I was thrilled to find them, and I just couldn't understand why they were only $1 - didn't everybody want to wear leggings? You just can't find them any more! However, the first time I wore them out in public, I could tell I was just screaming "I wish it were still the '90s!!!". Since I am trying really hard to learn how to dress more fashionably - I take this course once a week - I resolutely stuffed them to the back of my cupboard.

Now, when I see people running, I always evaluate what they are wearing, preparing for the inevitable day when I will update my wardrobe. You can imagine how excited I was when I noticed a few women wearing running tights - which look just like leggings! I ran to my cupboard, freed the leggings (I mean running tights), and voila - a new, more aerodynamic look. Look better, feel better, run faster.

I didn't run twice as far. I was so happy that it wasn't twice as hard - but when I did the math I realized: I was out for a total of 26 minutes, instead of 17 - a gain of 9 minutes. I ran for a total of 10 minutes - a gain of 4 minutes. Working the percentages, it should have been about 67% harder, not 100% harder. And that sounds just about right.

A little less chocolate, a lot more fat.....

2004-04-13T09:33:00.000-03:00

So here are last week's indulgences. You can see a pattern, can't you? The challenge from Julia came right after I made chocolate chip cookies. I did not consume any chocolate, cookies or real Coke after that day. Yeah me! I did, however switch to fatty foods. Wings. Pizza. KFC. Somebody better talk to my food pleasure centre - it just won't give up! Coincidentally, I am still not losing weight. So somebody better talk to my weight loss centre, 'cause it's going to get a beatin' if it doesn't step up soon. Hmmmm... maybe my weight loss centre should beat up my food pleasure centre.......

18 chocolate creme cookies

3 glasses of Coke

6 chocolate chip cookies

2 tablespoons cookie dough

late night chicken wings

late night pizza (homemade)

KFC - chicken, fries, gravy, coleslaw

1 piece white birthday cake

2 pieces fairy gingerbread with whipped cream

And Julia, congratulations on one week without popcorn. You have saved yourself more than 1650 calories and 93 grams of fat. Plus your nasty butter habit.

A Mother's role at Easter...

2004-04-11T15:23:00.000-03:00

is to give her children chocolate, which makes them happy. Then, once they are out of sight, she is to slowly pick at their chocolate, thereby protecting her children from overconsumption of chocolate.

Due to a challenge I am currently doing my best to meet, I can't do this. AND IT's KILLING ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Beep. Beep. Beep.

2004-04-10T14:08:00.000-03:00

Hey! Guess what? It was snowing today. I think that makes for three out of five runs in the snow. I just love running in the snow. The feel of the cold wet splats in your face (today's brand of snowflakes were about two inches in diameter), your thighs getting colder and colder (luckily my polyester jogging pants seem to repel the water), and most especially that exciting feeling of "Am I going to slip and fall on my face as I "run" down this hill?" Just think - someone could watch me run, yank my underwear out of my butt, and then fall on said butt. How much more entertaining could I be? Why oh why did I not wait until real spring arrived? Oh. Wait. That's because here in Nova Scotia that could be July - and even then, I'll just be running in the rain instead of the snow. Obviously my extreme love of this place has to do with things other than the weather.

I added another, more subtle level to the entertainment level of my runs today - my watch. Like I said before, I have never owned a digital watch. This thing has five buttons, measures time in hundreths of a second, keeps track of the date, the day of the week, the time, when I want to wake up, and what I am having for supper. My plan is to use it to tell me when my one minute of running is up, and then when to start running again. I decided I would use the timer feature, and reset it every time I switched between walking and running. Simple? You'd think. You'd also think I would try it out before I left the house. Not so. Instead, I was trying to walk/"run" while figuring it out - somewhat akin to rubbing your belly and patting your head at the same time. It can be done - but it requires a silly amount of concentration. Ideally, the timer should run for one minute, and then - beep - stop, beep - reset, beep - restart, and repeat. Not so! It was more like one minute, then beep - what did that do? Oh, okay, maybe that button. Beep - okay it stopped. Beep - why is it running again?! Beep - okay got it stopped. Beep - hey, that didn't reset, it's telling me that I am having chicken for supper. Beep - okay, reset. Beep - whew, get running would ya? It was not good.

However, it was absorbing, and my time on the streets seemed to pass quickly. As a matter of fact, it was so quick, I think I might have only run five times, not six. I don't see how this could be, since I went the exact same distance I always do... perhaps I have increased in speediness so much that I covered the distance so much more quickly? Perhaps since my warm up walk was so exactly five minutes (not 5.01 minutes), I warmed up for longer than I have been? Or perhaps, just perhaps, I spent too long beeping my beeping watch? I'll never know, I guess.

And, one more thing - note to self: pink bikinis no good either.

It's no longer free.

2004-04-10T10:49:00.000-03:00

I didn't run yesterday. Instead, I spent the day searching out the ideal timepiece to accompany me on my "runs". This is what I know I need so far:

digital - able to track my time to the hundredths of seconds (you never know when you might need to know whether it took me 32.14 or 32.15 minutes)

waterproof - I live in Nova Scotia - no more needs to be said.

easy to read - this shoving my wrist in my face thing needs to go. I'd like to be able to see it with a minimum of extra movement - I think I'm doing enough already, you know?

not unattractive - digital watches, by their nature, are unattractive. But as this watch will spend a lot of time on my wrist (I am thinking I could also use it to prevent lateness, something that plagues me), I would prefer if it either made some kind of fashion statement (hmmmmm..... maybe I should rethink this - I don't hear fashion statements very well, they always sound like they are spoken in a different language) - so maybe it just should be not very noticeable.

cheap. free would be nice, but cheap will have to do. Of course, this probably means a trip to my favourite store. Walmart. With three children. I'm sure you've seen me there.

So, off I sailed to Walmart, where I got to choose from about five models at two price levels. In Walmart's defense (like it needs any!), they had more, they were just over my $20 budget. After eliminating the cheapest one, which looked - well, cheap - I eliminated the remaining ones for ugliness, hugeness, intimidatingness, and ugliness. That of course, eliminated all of them (I guess my dislike of digital watches is bigger than I thought), so I chose between the two ugly ones, and came home with a watch that is not too big, has a velcro strap, is black and silver, and will keep track of things to the one hundredth of a second. So, I have spent my first money on this endeavour - $14.91. About as much as a pizza, come to think of it. But less calories.

Munchy bum

2004-04-07T14:19:00.000-03:00

24 hours later, and I'm out again. In case you aren't keeping track - that's three "runs" now. In four days. In March. In Nova Scotia. Pretty freakin' impressive. And here is a piece of advice for you - March in Nova Scotia is not the best time to take up a sport such as running. It is cold and damp. C-c-c-cold. If you are thinking of doing this - wait 'til April.

The running is going quite well. My route is the smallest block I can access from my house, and I am going around it twice. Going the same route for three days (so six loops, for the mathematically challenged) makes everything more predictable, and since my body is now a bit forewarned, it is also a bit forearmed. In other words, my brain is finding somewhere pleasant to go while my body deals with pounding the pavement. It was actually on this run that I decided I would follow through with my intention to write about this experience. I daydreamed about how witty I would be, and how my fame would spread slowly over the internet, until some bigwig at a big time publishing company read it, and made me an extremely lucrative book offer. So, bigwig, if you are out there reading this - I knew you'd like it! And sure, we can do lunch. But only if there is no coke, cookies or chocolate there.

I developed a problem shortly after I left home this time. My underwear decided that they were cold too, and crawled up my butt to keep warm. I tend to have a problem that Tony has affectionately dubbed "munchy bum", and my bum was definitely munchy today. So every ten or fifteen steps I had to yank them out - I am sure it was very entertaining for any one who happened to be watching. So, note to self - do not wear the black bikinis when "running".

I accept.

2004-04-07T08:08:00.000-03:00

Julia, I believe, is concerned about the amount of sugar I consume. I am concerned by the fact that my jeans are no looser than they were before I started all of this. Julia challenged me to give up cookies, chocolate and real coke for six weeks.

I accept that challenge, starting today.

Should anyone else have a vice they need to give up, and wishes to do this along with me, it would be very very helpful, and I will be eternally grateful. Post in the comments if you're riding the deprivation train with me.

I am not sure what I am going to do about the plethora of homemade cookies around right now, and the last bag of Leclerc Quattro cookies, though. Maybe I should start in a couple of days??

Blah. Just blah.

2004-04-06T09:44:00.000-03:00

I took yesterday off, fooling myself into thinking I would do some weights with Tony. He didn't, so I didn't. Guess I shouldn't have taken the day off....

Because today, it just doesn't seem real. It must be someone else who is supposed to lace up those shoes and head out the door. It can't be me who is going to ask these legs to run - uphill - in the cold. However, I just looked in the mirror, and it turns out it is me, dressed and ready to go, right down to the borrowed too delicate watch, and the borrowed Rangers toque.

I went anyway, you'll be pleased to know. My performance was less than stellar. I had troubles with time keeping today - this watch is not a delicate digital watch, in case you hadn't figured that out - it is a delicate, small, difficult to read analog, with a second hand so feathery I have to put the watch right up to my face to see it. Since this involves pushing my gloves back every time, as it is also not a waterproof not digital watch, it is a pain. I screwed up on the times all over the place - even running too long once! And that strange slow down happened on the last run again - it really felt like that one minute was never ever going to end.

Of course it did, and now I am home, cozy and showered, and ready to do it again!

The girl can eat

2004-04-05T09:05:00.000-03:00

6 gingerbread cookies (at once)

A&W mozza burger combo with rings and real coke

2 small coffee crisp chocolate bars

half cup cream cheese icing, straight from bowl

many more gingerbread cookies, "dipped" in icing

several caramel filled chocolate bunnies

a large tablespoon of peanut butter studded with chocolate chips

12 Leclerc PeanutButter Quattro cookies

3 chocolate easter eggs

1 (bag of) Leclerc Maple Quattro cookies

That was what I posted in my food confessional for the past week, and it is pretty (embarassingly) accurate. I roughed out the calories, and it is close to 5000... since it takes about 3500 to lose a pound, by simply avoiding these foods, I could have shed another pound! Yikes!

And, in the spirit of honesty, let me just say that I decided not to count the five pieces of home made pizza with pepperoni and bacon on it that I had for supper last night. After all - it was a planned supper, not an indulgence. And I did have a big green salad first. And most of the Coke I drank was diet! That's gotta count for something.......

24 hours later......

2004-04-05T08:51:00.000-03:00

and I'm at it again. Today it's sunny and 0 degrees, which feels a lot more civilized then yesterday.

My body feels ok - minor stiffness here and there, but nothing to speak of. My shoes on the other hand, are whining about going out again. (You have to remember that they have gone from not being used at all, to being used once a week, and now twice in a row!). I told them to suck it up, it will only be hard at first, and that if they didn't stop whining, I would retire them. (An empty threat, because new shoes aren't in the budget for a bit, so nobody tell my shoes that.)

Mentally, I am kind of psyched. Going once - well, after all my talk, I could hardly be expected no to. Going twice - well, surely that puts me in the category of serious runner.

Same wardrobe as yesterday. Same route as yesterday. On my second one minute run, though, it became apparent that someone had somehow slipped a couple of ten pound weights into my shoes. I'm serious! I could hardly lift those suckers, they were so heavy. They stayed there into my third run, but miraculously disappeared for my fourth (which, coincidentally, I'm sure, was downhill.) And then, on my sixth and final run, someone slowed the clock down. And I mean waaaay down - that last run took forever.

So, summary of day two: Sun = good. Heavy legs = not good. Last run = very long. Me = happy.

My maiden voyage

2004-04-02T22:37:00.000-04:00

This is it. The post you've all been waiting for.... where the talking stops and the "running" starts. The Breasts strapped down? Check. Outdated, not cool clothes on? Check. Children looked after? Check. Toque and gloves? Check.

Toque and gloves? Yep. It's freakin' snowing out. It's not like the blizzard, but it is definitely snowing - a lot. I finally decide to get this adventure underway, and the weather is not even on my side. It is coming down thick and fast, it's windy, it's freezing. Okay, it's actually only about -2, but I am sure that the speed at which I will be "running" will result in a wind chill adjusted temperature of at least -3. It is beautiful though, the flakes are fat and jolly, and the white coating over the grime of the old snow seems suitable for the fresh start I am about to make.

Before I tell the story of my first "run", I have to clarify something. I started running on March 15. I started blogging on March 30. That means I have two weeks of catch-up to do, and am writing things that happened in the past as though are the present. Hope that's cool with you. Eventually my entries will be in sync with their posting dates. So if the discrepency bothers you - stop reading for a week or so. I just didn't want anyone to think it was snowing here today - or worse, to check the local weather and think I was delusional.

After donning all my gear, and kissing the kids goodbye, I stepped out into the (not really a) blizzard. I walked to the end of my driveway (uphill), and did a few stretches. I had borrowed Pam's watch, and it was kind of dainty and kind of not really hers, so I had a bit of stress about how I was going to keep track of time in this weather, but I figured if that the worst problem I had on my maiden voyage, I would be doing well.

And then - I set off. My plan was a brisk five minute warm up walk. You know the one - you've seen it. It's always a woman performing this act. Legs pumping, arms swinging. That look on the face that says "Out of my way, I'm EXERCISING, can't you tell?". To be honest, I've always thought it looked a bit odd - in fact, I have said to myself that I would be embarassed to be seen walking like that. But, let me tell you - when your arms are swinging like that, and you are moving as swiftly as your shadow - you feel - well, odd. And kind of embarassed. However, I know that I am out for a "run", so I have nothing to be embarassed about. I do think though, that next time I might carry a sign that says "This is just a warm up. Drive by me in five minutes if you want to see how good an athlete I really am."

I walked uphill, then downhill. After five minutes, the plan was to run for one minute, walk for two minutes, and repeat this sequence six times. When my watch said that five minutes had passed, I broke into a "run". This was it! This was the moment I had been planning for! And it felt - it felt - well, it didn't feel like much of anything. It was downhill, so it was easy. It was one minute long, so it was short. Short and easy, that's how it felt. I can do this! What was I worried about?! I walked for the planned two minutes, which was mostly flat and when my watch said that two minutes had passed, I broke into a "run" again, filled with confidence. My legs were feeling the burn a bit, but the minute passed fairly easily.

The next two minute walk marked the end of the flat road. I started uphill. At that inconvenient moment, my (oops, a little wet) watch said the two minutes had passed. I broke into a "run". Oh. Oh, dear. I don't know if it was the hill, or the stress of the two minutes of running I had accumulated thus far, but my legs did not like this minute. It was hard. I wanted to stop. I needed more air. I needed..... oh, thank god, the minute was up. The best thing about that minute was that it was over.

I repeated this three more times. I never stopped, although I thought about it. Though the wind whipped my face, the snow covered my tracks as soon as I made them, and my legs screamed in protest, I finished out my planned "run". I returned home, feeling full of self-righteous good health, and yes, just a little bit of pride that I had completed my maiden voyage. After all, I had just run for a whopping six minutes.

It's all in the planning

2004-04-01T12:35:00.000-04:00

It has been several weeks since I read the book that really got me thinking about "running". I took it out of the library because I was searching for a way to fit more physical activity into my life, particularly that of the fat burning sort. I have a fancy shmancy weight set in my basement, which I do use on occasion (mostly just because Tony is, and I don't want to look like a lazy bum), and I do a weekly fitness class, but I wanted more. Well, I guess, if I'm being honest here, I wanted more results - not necessarily to do more work. However, after a couple of months of my current routine, I seem to have gotten all the results I'm gonna get. Which is pretty much - well, none. After reading the book, I decided I would try this whole thing, and then when Pam came (the previously mentioned mother in law), the timing just seemed right.

I couldn't remember the plan of attack outlined in the book (the old me probably would still have the book laying around the house, with $82 in late fines attached to it, the new library addicted me returned it before it was due), so I googled a while, and ended up at Cool Running. I am keeping a running log there, and it shall remain private to me, since it is dry and humorless. However, the kilometer tracking takes place there, and I am going to post that number here on a regular basis. It also outlined a plan of attack. I have actually tried "running" in the past. (As a side note, the book made a big point of calling it "running" and yourself a "runner". But really, I do not "run". I plod. I jog. I bounce up and down a lot. But "running" - not yet. Thus the quotes.) I would set out to run for a given amount of time - say 20 minutes. I would run until I thought I was going to die - say one minute, and then start setting stupid goals. I'll just run till the next phone pole. I'll just run until I count to 100. I'll just stop right now, so I don't keel over. And I would. Stop that is. Then I'd walk - really slowly - until I could breathe again. And repeat. After about five minutes, I would return home, wondering who the hell liked running, and what the hell a "runner's high" was.

I know that if I am to make it a success this time, I have to do it differently. So, here is my plan: t a k e i t s l o w l y. Walk to warm up. Alternate walking and "running" at planned intervals. Plan my route. Keep track. Make myself accountable (and what better way than by writing about it on the web, and then telling everyone you know to read it - there's a method to my madness). And then, to quote Starsky, "Just do it".

WARNING: This post refers to parts of the female anatomy which cannot be shown at Superbowl Halftime. It is intended for mature readers only.

2004-03-31T19:04:00.000-04:00

In detailing the clothes I put on for my first run, I forgot the very most important garment of all. Julia's comment reminded me. It is of course, the sports bra.

Normal women need sports bras. I need a suit of armor. In an F cup. If there is anything that will keep me from running, it is the Breasts. The Breasts must be controlled. Under normal circumstances, in a normal (read: nursing) bra, if I have to run or jog for a few steps - like say if one of my children is running away from me, something that happens all too often - I have to do the cross, squeeze and run. Or, if I am comfortable with the people around me, I just do the grab and run.

The cross, squeeze and run, for you smaller breasted women who are lucky enough to not know what I am talking about (all you large breasted women can stop nodding in sympathy and just feel free to skip to the next paragraph), is when you cross your arms over your chest, pull them in tight, and then run, with the Breasts now under control. I don't know what it is about the sensation of the Breasts rising up to your chin and then flopping down on your belly button, but it just irritates the crap out of me. The grab and run, which can only be done around people who know you (since you look foolish, but kind of sexy, instead of just plain foolish) is when you just grab onto a breast with each hand, and run.

Obviously neither of these techniques is appropriate for more than a few steps. Enter the sports bra. In my LBK (life before kids), I tried all of your regular department store type sports bras, and was sadly disappointed. I eventually ended up at a specialty store, where I bought the sports bra for women with my condition. I spent enough to buy a small car.

Now, this was LBK remember. In my LAK (you with me?), the Breasts have migrated south, stretched, and grown. So the question was, would this bra still hold the girls down? Would it be adequate for the "running" I was about to take on? Can you bear the suspense? The answer, I am pleased to say, is a definite yes. In fact, because the Breasts have actually grown, it kind of works better. They are so squished down in there, that they don't move. At all. This is quite impressive 'cause I'll tell ya - I have big breasts. You know that pencil test? In case you aren't familiar, the following taken from here will fill you in....

"One simple way to determine whether your breasts may be in need of a lift is the pencil test. To perform this test, simply stand upright in front of a mirror with your shoulders back in a proper posture position. Without a bra on, take a pencil and slide it into the under crease of your breast. When you stand up straight does the pencil stay in place under your breast? If so, you may be a candidate for a breast lift."

Well, I have yet to find a small object that won't fall out from under there - up to and including my TV remote. If you don't believe me, I'm taking challenges.

So, I've got the Breasts covered. As to the underwear, well - don't worry. You will be hearing plenty about my underwear as this story unfolds.

Getting Ready

2004-03-30T21:44:00.000-04:00

Since my mother in law is visiting, I am able to dive in to the challenge. She can stay with the kids, while I "run". I have almost two weeks, so I should be able to get enough of a start to see whether this is something I really want to do, sort of want to do, don't really want to do, or will never attempt again, even on pain of death.

The whole "what to wear" thing is something I never thought of. Not being a runner, I have no clothes for running. Not being a fashion guru, I don't know what is cool to wear running. OK, let's be honest, I have little fashion sense, and an even littler wardrobe. So, for my first day, I picked out the following:

My navy blue sweatpants (the old fashioned kind, with cuff, made worse by the fact that they are some sort of poly blend, and have little pilly things all over them. I figure I'll be running so fast, no one will notice them.) Circa 1996.

My Lilith Fair t-shirt. My only concert t-shirt. No particular reason, it was just at the top of the pile. Circa 1999.

My Bulldogs sweatshirt. Chosen for its weight, not its sentimental value (Tony gave it to me, in first year university - it was his floor mascot sweatshirt). Circa 1988.

Non-descript socks. Nothing more to say, move along now.

My Nike super futuristic aerobic shoes. Circa 1995.

My almost name brand windbreaker - if I could just remember the brand, you might recognize it. Anyway, it's grey and sort of a teal colour, just the right complement for my pilly navy pants, and my white(ish) running shoes.

So, my entire wardrobe is at least 5 years old. Huh. Maybe I need another blog to journal my journey from fashion don't to fashion do. Maybe I could go shopping instead of running.........

And so it begins.

2004-03-30T21:05:00.000-04:00

I want a lot of things in life. Some of them I think I can attain, others, not so much. Some of them I have thought about for a long long time. Others, not so much.

This site is about one of the things I want - I want to be a runner. Oh wait - it's about two things I want. I also want to be a writer. This site makes me one of those two things. As to the running - well, we'll see. Together. All of us. Oh wait again - I have no readers. Well, luckily, I amuse myself.

Yes, I want to be a runner. Anyone who knows me - who truly knows me - will be shocked by this. I, myself, am somewhat shocked by this. Really, I am not sure that I want to be a runner, but I am sure of the following:

I want to be in better shape
I want to be thinner
I want to do things for me
I want to have really nice legs and a nice butt
I want to have goals, and accomplish them

Running just seems to fit. Not to mention that the equipment needs are minimal, I can do it at a moments notice, and ... well, that's really all the good things I can think about running.

Bad things, though, I can think of lots of bad things about running. Like the way it hurts. And the way it doesn't feel so good sometimes. And the way it makes you feel. But, this is supposed to be a good thing, so I am trying not to think of those things.

So, come with me, and see if I can turn this slightly overweight underused undervalued body of mine in to a lean, mean running machine.