Gravity

Someone pinned this the other day, and I love it.

And today, I kinda need that reminder. I'm having a bit of a war with my scale these days.

I am committed to weighing in every Monday. I used to weigh on the scale at Schaumburg LTF, but now that I've been going to Bloomingdale on Mondays, I'm using theirs. Back in the beginning of Monday weigh-in, I used the home unit, but then I thought maybe it was malfunctioning, which is why I relied on the one at the gym. But now and then, just to get an idea of where I'm at, I'll step on the one at home.

So let's look at recent history.

Last Monday, the home unit weighed me in at 212. The Bloomindale scale read 213.2. Mind you, I weigh at home in the morning, and at the gym at night, so it's somewhat logical that I would be a bit heavier at night. So I logged the 213.2 as the weight of record.

Yesterday, the home unit weighed me at 210.8. I accepted this as an awesome victory, and expected a similar - within a pound or so - result from the gym scale. Instead, I was greeted with ...

213.8.

Really? Fuck you.

I didn't freak out (much). Because here's the thing: I feel 211. I trust 211. So this morning I hopped on the home unit (again. Shut up.) and it said 211.8. I am taking that as the number of record. That might mean that next Monday blows beyond belief, but that's the number this week.

I think I'm going to buy a new scale - one that doesn't suck - and just start relying on that. There's too much possibility for fluctuation among my other choices, and I just really don't want to freak out. But for the time being, I'm just going to remember that picture up there. My weight is just a number, explaining how I fit in amongst gravitational pull. The work, and the dedication to my health, can't be measured by anything except how I feel.

And I'm feeling pretty awesome.

A friendly stampede

Last year, I spent 4th of July weekend in Lake Geneva, so I missed what was purported to be a great race - the Frontier Days Stampede Run, right in my town. So I vowed that this year, I would not miss it. And I didn't; I ran the 5K yesterday morning.

Although race day dawned sunny and warm, the 81 degrees at the start was a far cry from the previous day's 111, so it actually felt like a weird cold snap. Kristen, Linda and I walked the mile from my place to the race site, and I had a twinge of melancholy. This was my last race here as an Arlington Heights resident, and I wasn't expecting it to hit me. My town really knows how to support and celebrate its runners; it's made me proud to be a runner here. I can't wait to come back and be part of it, either as a runner or a resident, or both.

The run itself was great. I finished in 41:30, at a pace of 13:22 per mile; pretty slow, but pretty good for this girl. I'm still hungering to break the 40-minute mark, but I know one day I'll get there.

At about the halfway point, my left Achilles started to hurt. (It still hurts, which pisses me off, but I'm trying not to panic.) Liberal walk breaks became necessary, and I was starting to really feel the heat. (And seriously, people, when it's 80 degrees, a water station at Mile 2 is not sufficient.) The finish line included great food (Watermelon! Clif bars! Bananas! Bagels! Coconut water!) but no coffee, so we only stuck around long enough to objectify a fireman and scarf down a snack; then, it was off to breakfast (bacado omelet from Egg Harbor, thank you very much).

And as race morning drew to a close, I settled in to enjoy my Sunday. A few chores, a little puttering, and a nap ... ahhh, that's the ticket! I limped around a lot, and I'm gonna have to pay pretty close attention to the Achilles to make sure I haven't done anything more than strain it. Today it hurts a little, but I'm wearing heels, so stretching it out in athletic shoes will tell the true tale ... as will getting on the scale tonight after spin class. As of this morning, I had lost again this week, but that's not on the "official" scale, and you know how I feel about that. So, until tomorrow's update, I'll leave you with this photo from yesterday's race:

Me, in pink (as usual) and ready to run!

Weighing in and stuff

Got on the scale last night - the official weigh-in scale in the locker room at Bloomingdale LTF - and I lost some. Not a lot. Not as much as my home scale said. But I'm down a little more than a pound. As of last night, I'm weighing in at ...

213.2.

Yes, I know. I've been a lot less than that. I think last November I was 206 or something. The week after the half marathon, I hit 204. But that was then; this is now. I know what the horse looks like, and I'm getting back on it.

So, yeah, I'll admit to being a little upset about the uptick in the number over the past few months. But it is what it is. Now it's time to minimize the damage and get on with life.

And I'm still feelin' relatively good. I had a great workout last night - an hour of spin, and about 25 minutes in the outdoor lap pool, which was heavenly. I suppose the best part of all that is that I enjoy it so much. Who would've seen that coming a few years back, huh?

Scratch that; the best part is being able to spend time with incredible people who have encouraged me along on this journey. On my way into the gym, I ran into Donna, who was leaving after her first day as the group fitness department head at the Bloomingdale branch. It was wonderful to see her, even just for a quick conversation. And Pam, who teaches spin, is an incredible instructor and an even better friend. She knows when to push, and I always feel accomplished after I've completed (survived?) one of her classes. Plus, she joined me in the pool, so it was basically Spin & Swim night with Pam. The perfect evening workout!

And here I am, ready for another day of tracking my food and working it off, hoping to continue the (slow) downward trend of the number. I would love to see one-hundred-something by the end of summer. It's been a long time comin'. Not sure what happens when I get close, but when it's within my grasp, I seem to let go.

Not this time.

The switch

You know how it is when you first start a new diet/exercise regimen? Everything is new, and you're raring to go, and it's like someone flipped a switch inside of you that made it possible for you to follow the program to the letter.

Over time, though, you weaken. Real life intervenes and you stray from the path. It happens; we've all been there.

This time, though ... pretty much since I started this blog ... it's been different. I've been bolstered by my faith that even though I may not always be perfect ... even though I stray (sometimes for weeks on end) I know, eventually, I will flip the switch again.

This was a switch-flippin' weekend. Yes, there was good food (ribs, corn, brats, cupcakes). Yes, there were adult beverage. Yes, there were late nights. But there was also balance - balance caused by my own insistance not to obsess, but to allow my best self to run the show. So Thursday night I drove to Wisconsin. First thing Friday morning, I went for a run. I meant to go two miles, but it was so pretty (and damn those hills!)

The people of Wisco refer to us Illinoisians as "flatlanders" ... and this is why. So I found myself out running in this beautiful countryside, and my one mile out/one mile back quick run turned into two out/two back, all of which (I swear) were uphill. Both ways. I thought I was going to die. But it was worth it!

While I was up North of the border, my friends Amber and Jeremiah took the opportunity to visit Northwind Perennial Farm. This place is gorgeous ... and it offered another opportunity to take a little walk.

 Jeremiah and Amber, enjoying the surroundings.

 Goats!

Just one of the many paths we followed through the Farm.

It's such a beautiful place, with litle nooks and crannies (and donkeys and geese) just waiting for you to discover. So pretty!

All too soon my time in Wisconsin was coming to an end. But that didn't mean the workouts ended! On Saturday morning, I attempted to do "the 500". Attempted is the key word here, because it was pretty impossible, but one day I will get there! The 500, as described to me by my friend Ryan, is a pretty simple workout: 100 push-ups, 100 pull-ups (or whatever upper-body move you're capable of), 100 crunches, 100 squats and 100 burpees. I ended up doing the 300, or 60 each of those moves (with bicep curls, shoulder presses and lateral raises instead of pull-ups, because I didn't want to die). By the time I was done, my quads already hurt (dude, it's been years since I've done one burpee, let alone 60) and I knew Sunday wasn't gonna be pretty. But that's okay.

Sunday, I woke up at home, in my own bed, with a full day stretching out before me. Could easily have been a lazy day, but not for this girl. Nope, I chose instead to head out for a bike ride with Kristen through Busse Woods. It was a great day for a ride - 90 degrees and sunny, not a day for running but on the bike, you create your own breeze! Felt good to know that on a three-day weekend, I did not take a single day "off" of working out.

So I feel like the switch remains in the "on" position. If my preliminary weigh-in this morning is any indication, I've taken off a few pounds. We'll weigh in for realzies on the scale at the gym tonight. Full report tomorrow! Until then, remember to move!