What's a Girl Gotta Do?

If I were to simply list the stats for the past two weeks, you might think I am a fairly avid athlete.  I have run about 27 miles, walked close to 10 miles, biked 23 miles and participated in 3 sessions of water aerobics and lap swim.  Impressive for a 52 year old woman who believes beaches are for lolling, not volleyball.  

I began the whole run thing last September in an attempt to shore up my heart.  My family heart history errs to the side of weak and I wanted to beat the odds. . .and drop some weight.  I have been successful at both.  My resting heart rate is in the mid 40s, I've lost a significant amount of weight and in the process have become addicted to running.  Bravo.

So, here is the problem.  My resting heart rate (which I already mentioned) is at the same level as a Lance Armstrong type. . .which would be great if I was in the same physical shape.  I'm not and I've had that heart rate for several years, so really there has been no change.  I still have high blood pressure and always will (thanks, Dad, Grandpa, etc.). I have high cholesterol (same family). I have made a concerted effort to accurately and honestly write down everything I eat and drink (and yes, that includes the 2-3 glasses of wine on Fridays with my friends).  I literally cut most restaurant meals in half and take the other half home.  That being said on MOST days (sometimes you have to live a little) I stay between 12-1500 calories a day.  You would think I would be completely transformed.  Yeah, you would think.

So, I look in the mirror and assess.  What do I see?  I don't cast as large a shadow (credit to Ralph for that phrase), but it's still the same body.  Still round, still fat.  This is where I will tell you that it's ok.  I am happy with the achievement, accepting of a body that carries genetics beyond my control.  I am at peace.

But, that would be a lie.  


I can't leave on that sour note so I will let you in on a secret.  It is my summer cocktail-- low calorie, yummy and effective.

Hole in One

If you enjoy an Arnold Palmer (lemonade and ice tea sweet). . .this will kick it up.

1 packet Crystal Light lemonade
2 oz Seagrams Sweet Tea Vodka
1 large tumbler

Mix the Crystal Light (I like mine stronger so I use about 2/3 C. water to mix) with water.  Add ice.  Pour vodka over the top, mix and enjoy.  132 calories.


If you would like to receive my newsletter,  leave me your email in the email box on the left. I will not spam you.

Tape a Cheetah to My Back

My Inner Athlete used to be very active: skiing, kickboxing, biking, weights, you name it she was doing it until sometime in the early 2000s.  Then, she saw the light and instead of attempting to shame me into joining her (it didn't work. . .I know my place-- it's
 on the beach. . .in a chair), she joined me.  Together we'd hit the sand, lie back and relax, sip wine.  It was a happy union.
I'm not sure what Inner Athlete has been spiking my wine with, but our relationship has changed without my even realizing it.  I have been duped.  Last August I started "running" using the Couch to 5K program; a program that turns you into a runner in spite of yourself and I have surpassed the 5K mark - heading toward 10K.  All of this has happened while IA stood on the sidelines with her back to me, glass in hand, pretending she didn't even notice.  She didn't say a word about it, just continued to sip wine with me, lamenting the winter months and yearning for sun.  DIDN'T SAY A WORD. . .until I needed new running shoes and then she started peppering my speech with words like "pressure sensors" and "mid-strike", whispering in my ear to buy the "good" running shoes because my feet would thank me (and they have).

Inner Athlete re-emerged in full force last weekend while in California. She grabbed my hand and dragged me full speed down the road to watch a triathalon.  The participants swim through the local lake, bike through a 14 mile course and run 3 miles to finish.  I stood on the corner as these athletes came riding by in all ages, shapes and sizes and the thought that I can do this quietly presented itself.  IA whispered in my ear, "Yessss, you caaannn."  I pondered the idea, concerned about my speed. . .or lack thereof.  I wouldn't do it to win, that's never gonna happen, but I would do it just to do it.  I am a strong swimmer, I love to bike and I can run 3 miles now.  I could do this.

And so I am.  Next year's Desert Triathalon has another participant.  I turned to IA and sneered, "This is all your fault."  She laughed.  I said, "What if I am so slow that they pack up before I am finished?"

She laughed again,"We could always tape a cheetah to your back."

IA is such a smart ass.

Run Along!

About a week ago, my Boston BFF called me.  Thanks to caller ID, I answered the phone, dismissing the traditional ‘Hello” and simply asking, “What’s up?”  Without feeling the need to identify herself, she replied, “So, I hear you are running these days.”  I pondered the statement.  Running.  I guess that’s the term although, I really think “shuffling” or even “tripping” is a much better descriptor.  

The truth is, I have spent the last 9 weeks following the Couch to 5K program.  It is a completely do-able program in that it only asks for 3 days a week and ups the running time in teeny tiny increments.  

I began the program on a lonely, quiet road where very few people could see me, figuring if I failed only a few people would take notice.  Much to my own shock, I didn’t fail.  In fact, I haven’t missed a day.  So, in this second day of my 9th week, I just “ran” for 30 straight minutes.  Ideally this is supposed to be approximately 5K.  Yeaaahhhh.  For me it is almost exactly 2 miles.  That’s right, I shuffle a 15 minute mile.  Just call me Flash.  

Moreover, my running form, or lack thereof, is comical.  I know it and I expect people to laugh.  I laugh.  My shadow, which often passes me out of shear frustration, is fairly honest with the round belly in front and the butt waddling dutifully behind.  I am sure that young people who see me run are dumbfounded at the sight and purists have burned their retinas watching me run by.  

I’m ok with that.  After 3 surgeries on my right foot and knee, I never thought running would be an option.  But it is, and I am doing it.  I feel pretty good about that.  If you see a blue or gray mass stumbling by. . . it’s me.  I still can’t call myself a runner and keep a straight face, but that is my goal!