The Wild and Absolutely True Adventures of Meg

Then Meg and Now Meg

2012-02-13T16:15:00.000-08:00

As I worked out with M. the Reasonable this morning, it hit me that I'm approaching a very important anniversary. It was three years ago this week that I made a very important, life-changing decision, then set out to get over years of pride and defensiveness about my body to sit down at a trainer's desk in my gym and say three little words that are so very, very difficult to say sometimes:

"I need help."

Then Meg, as I'm calling that lady, weighed 221.8 pounds, had very little idea how to exercise, and had never uttered the words "athlete" and "I am an" in the same sentence. I knew I was tired of being tired all the time, tired of being overweight, tired of having a hard time finding clothes I felt good in.

Me in 2007, near San Francisco, CA.

I had always vaguely thought that yes, I could lose weight. I just never did it, and B. the Sadist would be my ticket to finding my way to a better body. I signed up for training on February 19, 2009, and had my first appointment on February 20. I've already told the whole story of my Wild and Absolutely True Adventure through three years of weight lifting, habit-changing, you-want-me-to-WHAT?-ing and whining about Sadists and Meanies and what do you mean, you want me to run?! I don't run! This post is to reflect on how happy I am that Then Meg decided to tell the little devil on her shoulder to piss off so she could try out this whole lifestyle change thing.

When I think back on it, I'm not sure I really, truly believed back then that I could do this. Then Meg had no idea just what she was getting into...but she was, as the Facebook status posted above shows, willing to try. And for that, Now Meg is very grateful.

Nothing about my "odyssey" has been easy. There is no miracle diet trick (no matter how many people ask me, the answer never changes). There is no miracle exercise that blasts fat off my abs or makes my butt look great. It's a process, and it's a long one. It's a hard process. I often laugh and tell people, "I'm on the Complete Lifestyle Overhaul Plan" when they ask me what my secret is.

A year or so ago, I noticed some new signs around my gym, coyly telling me that I should ask the personnel within what "The Truth About Fitness" is. As I checked in that morning, I asked the kid at the front desk, "So, what is the truth about fitness, then?" He laughed and said, "I don't even know." I laughed at his frank reply and whispered to him, "I can tell you. The truth about fitness? It's fucking difficult!"

We laughed, but honestly? What I said that morning is 100% truth.

There has been pain. I have dropped a 25-pound weight on my ankle, and I have thrown up from running hard. I have had sciatica from stretching too hard and more mornings where I wake up half-frozen from the soreness than I can count. I have had days where walking is difficult, or sitting down to go to the bathroom downright painful. I have suffered shin splints, cramps, and various pains and blisters and bruises that have left me wondering just why I put myself through this. And then I step on the scale, or look at a new picture of myself, or walk into a Lane Bryant and realize that nothing there fits me anymore--it's all too big--and I realize, "Yes. There is a reason."

I stave off a panic attack by going for a run, or I help lift something heavy while the burly-men around me clutch their backs and groan, and I remember that for every moment of pain, there have been so many more moments in which Then Meg has quietly crumbled and from her has emerged Now Meg. Now Meg is capable, strong, and confident.

This morning, M. hauled a 70-pound dumbbell off the rack and brought it to me for some dead lifts. We had just been discussing my recent weight loss success--I weighed in at 153.2 this morning, which puts me one pound shy of being down 70 pounds since February 2009. Now I'm dead lifting the weight I've lost, and M. is looking forward to getting me to lift 100 pounds one of these days. I gazed at the dumbbell this morning and thought about how far I've come. I looked straight at M. and said, "I've decided I'm the person who keeps the weight off. There is no going backwards for me."

M. just smiled. "Nope. You are a changed person now." He believes in me.

And more important than that, I believe in me.

Getting there! Loving my curves (and the cat butt) in this picture.

Monday Music: Whitney Houston

2012-02-13T10:00:00.000-08:00

In light of the passing of an icon this weekend, I thought it appropriate to feature a favorite from my childhood this morning.

"Learning to love yourself...it is the greatest love of all."

Whitney Houston

2012-02-12T12:07:00.000-08:00

As any other self-respecting Child Of the Eighties, I grew up playing the crap out of my Whitney Houston cassette tape, lip-syncing along and wishing I could be as incredible as she was. My middle school self in the early 90s loved "The Bodyguard" and longed to slow-dance to "I Will Always Love You" at school dances. How romantic!

The news of Houston's death last night made me sad--while I had heard of her personal struggles in recent years, and hadn't listened to some of that magical music she put out in the 80s and 90s in a long time, it was the passing of another icon of my childhood that got me feeling nostalgic and firing up good ole YouTube.

You can't read the coverage of her passing without coming across inevitable mentions of the time she sang the National Anthem at the Super Bowl. I gave it a listen last night, and here's the thing:

I am notoriously rough on female singers, especially female singers performing "The Star-Spangled Banner." Kelly Clarkson at this year's Super Bowl? Meh. Christina Aguilera last year? Oh, puh-lease. She forgot the words! These are not legends, these are little girls playing at being singers. But Whitney? She nailed it, and even though I don't love a slow-tempo anthem, and I normally scoff at singers who do the show-off jump-up-the-fourth on "free," I really can't fault Whitney's anthem from 1991...it was spectacular, powerful, and I couldn't pull that off, even though I am a fair singer myself. I only wish our current crop of diva-wannabes could learn something from it.

Rest in peace, Ms. Houston. I am sorry you struggled in these later years. Something tells me the choir in heaven is sounding really good this morning.

Facing Forward

2012-02-11T21:05:00.000-08:00

For years, I was the master of the self-portrait. I hated having full-length pictures of myself, as my overweight body made me ashamed. I hated facing cold, hard evidence that I was big. So I only shared pictures of my face. Though round, it was cute enough. I had pretty eyes and a nice smile and good hair. It would have to be enough.

As the weight has come off, I've been less worried about that--I'm proud of my emerging muscles and my slimmed-down hourglass figure.But the most noticeable weight loss really seems to be in my face. I present a ton of self-portraits as evidence.

With all of these self-portraits of my face lined up, side-by-side, it's amazing to see how much progress I've made since February 2009.

This was 2007, on a trip to San Francisco with Shae. I was at my heaviest.

This was taken sometime in 2005, on one of my many rambling river
walks in my beloved Burnham-on-Crouch in England.

June 2009--I had lost about 20, 25 pounds and was feeling good.
Yes, my eyes are naturally that color.

This was taken in 2006, when I was living in Washington. It was a
long-time favorite.

Round face, blonde hair. This is probably in 2008 (that's definitely my
Stockton apartment).

Going for the sexy hair in...2007?

So those are my "before" pics. Now, take a look at my face.

May 2011. Darker hair, slimmer face.

Tonight. Lowest weight since...college? High school? Probably high
school.

From here on out, every pound loss is a new low weight. I'm super-excited and feeling very good about my progress!

Victory!!!

2012-02-09T13:47:00.000-08:00

After a week filled with shin splints and frustration, I was excited, yesterday, to get out and try out my new Mizuno running shoes, and very hopeful that they would make a big difference. Imagine my disappointment when I continued to have shin splints, which shortened my run considerably. The good news was that they were nowhere near as severe as they had been on Sunday, the last time I attempted to run. I figured my sore hamstrings might be contributing to the problem and vowed to get up today and give it another go.

This morning, I spent considerable time getting down and dirty with my foam roller on the floor, focusing on my legs and shoulders (thanks to yesterday's bear crawls, my shoulders/biceps/triceps are needing some extra love and tenderness today). By the time I set off for my walking warm-up (almost a mile), I was feeling a lot looser.

When I began my running route, I was cautious at first, running slowly and feeling my legs out for any sign of pain or distress. As I got moving, I was pleased to note a complete lack of shin pain. So I pushed a little harder...and a little harder. In case of pain, I had planned to push myself for the first mile-and-a-quarter, then reassess how I was feeling and whether I'd stop there or keep going. I reached that halfway point of my run with nary a problem, so onwards I ran. The sweat was flowing, my breathing was focused, and I was in that wonderful mid-run mindset where everything is focused on how good my body felt. My mind was clear. I felt great.

I reached the two-mile mark and turned onto a main street, facing what is always the most difficult part of my run--the last half-mile. I struggled here, walking a tiny bit and sternly muttering to myself to quit being a pansy and to keep running. Finally, I reached the stoplight that marks the end of my course in a burst of exhausted glory. I checked my stopwatch: 28:35. A new best time!

Panting and laughing, I started my long cool-down walk back towards home (M. the Reasonable once excitedly called it an "active recovery"--I walk a mile-and-a-half after my run so that by the time I get home my breathing and heart rate are back to normal. I love my long walk home--after a good run, the endorphins have me feeling like I can conquer the world, and I get some great ideas in that time). After a week of pain and being away from running, it was so good to get back out there, pounding the pavement--free from pain, enjoying the sunshine, and feeling good.

Digging Deeper

2012-02-08T17:03:00.000-08:00

This week, I've started a new repertoire of exercises with M. the Reasonable. He has a detailed plan he follows--customized to my needs and abilities, of course--and every few weeks he changes it up. We'll do the same workouts for three or four weeks, increasing resistance each week and watching in delight as the exercises get easier for me and my body gets stronger.

So Monday found me getting an introduction to dead lifts, and today, the bench press. The dead lifts left my hamstrings incredibly sore (M. greeted this news with a big grin) and I know that tomorrow, my arms and shoulders will be feeling it from today.

Also on the agenda today was an exercise M. called "bear crawls." I tried this a few weeks ago with little success, but now my back is getting stronger and today I was able to hold the walk and get through it--but not without some drama.

I have gotten to a point where Burpees don't bother me, and I've even stopped whining about running. But the bear crawl was really difficult for me today, and it tested me in a way that I haven't really been tested in a while.

I dropped to my knees a few times during my first go across the aerobics room and back. I called out, "I'm sorry!" to my trainer each time. Sweat was dripping down my face and my already-sore hamstrings were screaming with the effort. My biceps and triceps were not faring much better--after bench pressing earlier, they, too, were tired.

After a brief rest, I started my second set. M. assured me that as soon as I got through this set, I was finished for the day. I started off across the room on hands and tiptoes, breathing hard and willing myself on--remembering M.'s words of a month ago, "You're going to have to dig deeper for this one." At the halfway point, I turned around and started back across the room, feeling exhausted and wretched but determined to prove to M. and myself both that I could do this. Halfway across the room, my knees hit the ground again. Instead of apologizing to M. for stopping, I half-shouted, "God damn it, Megan! You can do this!" M.'s voice came from a few feet away: "Yes, you can! Come on, make it to the end in one go. You can do it!"

Pulling every ounce of stubborn willpower I had in me, I burst across the last half of the aerobics room, to the sound of M. encouraging me.

A few minutes later, I admitted to him that I used to have moments like this all the time with my previous trainers--those times when it seems so easy to just give up and tell myself I can't do something. How I've come too far to give in to those urges.

M. is proud of me--every week, I'm getting stronger, and more confident. More than that, I am proud of myself.

A Shoe Thing

2012-02-07T20:16:00.000-08:00

Facebook status from today.

When I started running two years ago (two years?! Yes, two years. Damn.), I was advised by G. the Meanie to get to the local Fleet Feet to be fitted for a proper running shoe. My $25 clearance shoes were not going to cut it for running, so off I went to walk barefoot in a store, worrying all the while if my feet were stinky and how silly I might look.

It paid off, big-time. I was matched up with the New Balance 850...and I happily destroyed my way through four pairs until December, when I was introduced to the "upgrade." And the "upgrade" just didn't work for me.

First, there was the hard-to-explain soreness in the tiny muscles on the top of my left foot. Just my left foot. M. the Reasonable gave me some stretches to do to combat that, and I noticed that the pain only occurred when I was walking--I didn't notice it at all when running.

But then came the blisters. Again, my left foot got the brunt of this, though I'm sporting some tiny, not-painful blisters on my right toes, and there was the mysterious incident of bleeding on my right foot a few weeks ago.

Needless to say, I was starting to get a little frustrated. Then came the shin splints.

Last Tuesday, I noticed them, in the last half mile of my 2.5-mile run. I have had a blessed absence of shin splints in recent months--they used to plague me in a big way in my earliest running days--so when I get them, I notice them and I'm particularly unhappy to see them again. Welcome old friends, they are not. On Wednesday, I mentioned them to M. ("Holy shin splints, Batman!!") and his immediate reply was, "Take a couple days off of running." (G. the Meanie would have told me to push through the pain, but M. takes a more let's-not-hurt-ourselves approach to this.)

I didn't run on Wednesday, and I didn't run on Thursday. I nearly chewed through my running socks in frustration (okay, not really). On Friday I had my regular gym assignment, which included some short, high-incline sprints on the treadmill. I did a bit of treadmill running to warm up, and noticed that my shins still hurt. My sprints were downright excruciating.

Frustrated, I sent a whiny text to my ever-so-patient trainer, and the following conversation ensued:

Meg: Still having shin splints today even though I didn't run yesterday. Is this a shoe thing? A tired thing?

MtR (he replied on Saturday): ...How you feeling today? I was thinking it was a tired thing but the shoes are contributing.

Meg: Today is my rest day so I went for a walk, but on the treadmill yesterday noticed my shins still hurt after a day off...

MtR: Did you get the new shoes?

Meg: Not yet. Maybe later this week.

MtR: Ok let's see how they feel after another rest day.

Meg: I will kick a little bum tomorrow!

And then I went out there on Sunday...and instead of kicking bum, I had mine roundly kicked. The first quarter-mile wasn't so bad, but before long, my shins were whining...then yelling...then screaming. I mean screaming bloody murder. I powered through the first half of my course, and then gave in and walked for a minute. In the second half, I alternated between forcing myself to run and allowing myself to walk, and I finished my run almost 4 minutes slower than my usual average time. Needless to say, I didn't feel great, though I was proud of myself for pushing. (Only to be told, on Monday, by M., "This is my fault--I should have told you not to run if you were in pain.")

On Monday morning, M. immediately asked how Sunday's run went. "It was really, really painful," I told him. We agreed it must be my shoes (how tired could I really be with all those rest days?) and I was instructed to stick to the cycle for my cardio until I could get to Fleet Feet for a new pair of shoes. I searched all over Google for the NB 850 old model that I loved so well, but alas, none of the clearance outlets had it in my size.

So today, armed with a little help from Mom and Dad (thank you, guys, you're awesome!!), I set off for Fleet Feet to walk barefoot and not worry one bit about the smell of my feet (after two years, you really do stop caring) and I was fitted for new running shoes. The gal who helped me brought out three possibilities. The first pair felt nice. The second pair, not so much. The arch support was so noticeable, I knew it would bug me when running. Then came the third pair of shoes...the Mizuno Wave Alchemy 11. They are super-light, and they hug my feet, whereas my NB shoes sort of rattled around more on my foot. I admit to being a wee bit reluctant to change a good thing sometimes, and I was unsure about starting over with a new type of running shoe...but these ones feel so lovely on my feet that I can't wait to get out there tomorrow and give them a good run.

I just used the words "can't wait to" and "run" in the same sentence. Meanwhile, the devil just bought a pair of ice skates.

You have to admit, they're pretty!

Monday Music: Travis

2012-02-06T10:00:00.000-08:00

I saw the lead singer for Travis, Fran Healy, open for Keane in July 2010, and have been meaning to check out Travis' music ever since. A year-and-a-half later, I finally did, and some of it is really, really good! I really like this one in particular.

And just for grins, here's a pic of ol' Fran himself, at the Fox Theater in Oakland. I enjoyed him, but frankly, I was so excited to see Keane, I didn't take much notice of him.

He came out after the show. I didn't meet him (I was anxiously looking
out for any Keane guys who might come out--and Tim and Richard
both did) but I did snap this picture.

Ladies Who Lunch

2012-02-03T16:27:00.000-08:00

In our effort to have a mini-adventure on the first Friday of every month in 2012, today Summer and I met in Dixon, California, to try out a tea shop. Dixon is a farming community off of Interstate 80, about halfway between Summer's home in Oakland and my home in Lincoln. After a good workout at the gym this morning, I showered and then set off to meet Summer.

Linde Lane Tea Room is absolutely darling. We had a marvelous time, sitting for a couple of hours, chatting, sipping tea. I took pictures, of course, because everything was done beautifully and the food was delicious. So without further ado, here are my pictures...

They don't do "matchy-matchy" tea services, which I found charming.

Our table.

Across from us, a chess table.

I had caramel tea--and I love the idea of using dog ID tags to ID the flavor!

Italian Wedding Soup...so yummy.

Sorbet and a cookie.

I had the Duchess Tea--less food than the Queen Tea, which is great for a
woman who is watching calories (guess who's going LIGHT for dinner
tonight?).

Triple Berry Jam and clotted cream.

Summer

Yours Truly being cheesy.

Is this fabulous, or what?

I kind of want to make something like this now.

Linde Lane was absolutely charming, and I love this, from their web site:

You will notice that at Linde Lane, we DO leave our crust on our tea sandwiches. We do this to conserve waste out of respect for those who are less fortunate.

We had a marvelous time and I'd love to go back someday.

A Big Pink Stink

2012-02-02T18:39:00.000-08:00

When I laid out a plan to run a 5K every month this year, I included the Susan G. Komen Race For the Cure in Sacramento as my May race. "Why not?" I thought. "It's a great cause and another opportunity for me to run."

I will not be participating.

In light of Tuesday's bombshell news that the Komen foundation had cut its grant funding to Planned Parenthood to help with costs for breast cancer screening for the women PP serves, I have decided that I can no longer, in good conscience, support an organization that arbitrarily makes up new rules, and so obviously panders to the extreme religious right.

Since Tuesday, I've done my share of figurative banging-my-head-against-my-desk reading comments all over the Internet from people who think that abortion and breast cancer have a link. (God, how I wish I was making this shit up.) This is not science, people, this is fear-mongering. Also, Planned Parenthood is not, for the love of all that is holy, an "abortion factory." I've been to one. Actually, I'm going back next week. I'm not pregnant, I assure you. I'm getting my blood pressure checked as a follow-up to the physical exam I had in November.

What? Going to Planned Parenthood for blood pressure?

Yes, my friends. Because Planned Parenthood will not charge my unemployed ass for care--they just ask that I give any donation I can. And I will, because I am grateful to them, and because I believe in their mission. Their mission, by the way, is not "Free abortions for all!! Everyone go have sex all the time!! Who cares about killing babies?!!" Their mission is simply to provide accessible, affordable healthcare to women and families in this great nation of ours...and to provide choice. In the end, all I ask of my country is that I have a choice when it comes to my body and whether or not it ever has children...and if I do decide to have any, how many and when I have them.

I am sad that Komen has politicized itself and cut ties with Planned Parenthood. This shows that the people running it are not for women's health, they are for making money. I've learned in the last few days that the organization has bullied other nonprofits for using the term "for the cure." This is not what I want to support! The increasing commercialization of the organization makes a joke out of the very real women I know who have fought breast cancer--women who, even though they are in remission, continue to deal with the ramifications of cancer on their day-to-day lives.

I want to support cancer research and to do what I can to eradicate it from our lives. Increasingly, I am deciding that this will come with better understanding on my part of environmental factors and early screening--screening Planned Parenthood is happy to provide to people like me, who can't afford healthcare at the moment.

So no more support for Komen, until they get back to their original mission of helping women. I still stand with Planned Parenthood.

You can donate to Planned Parenthood--it's easy!

Wordless Wednesday -- Gratuitous Cat Pictures

2012-02-01T07:00:00.000-08:00

My 5K Picture

2012-01-31T17:52:00.000-08:00

Yay! The digital copy of my 5K picture that I ordered arrived tonight, so I can finally share it here.

This photo was taken by and is owned by Facchino Photography. It was taken at the finish line, and the smile on my face is one of pride, exhaustion, and happiness. And yes...that is a rubber duck strapped to my right wrist.

Hardcore

2012-01-31T14:37:00.000-08:00

A couple of weeks ago, in one of my typical, rambling conversations with M. the Reasonable, it somehow came up that earlier this month, I came home from a run and removed my running shoes, only to find that I had a blood stain on one sock. My fourth toe was bleeding around the toenail, and I never did figure out why.

As I said to M. at that appointment, "I didn't feel a thing while I was running!"

His response was to slightly widen his eyes, smile slowly, and say, "That...is savage."

Laughing, I told him, "Hey, I'm hardcore."

"Yes, yes, you are!"

Fast forward to Sunday. I went on my run and felt just fine--it was a very good run, actually. I arrived home to find that--oh, gah--I have a fresh blister on my left heel. It's a recurring thing these days. I had bled through my sock onto the inside of my fancy running shoe. And I didn't feel a thing while I was running.

It's a badge of honor.

It's savage. It's hardcore. I am a rock star. I am a runner.

Sacramento Choral Society Sing-A-Thon

2012-01-30T16:32:00.000-08:00

Okay, I don't normally do this, but I'm throwing this out there.

It's time for Sac Choral's annual Sing-A-Thon fundraiser. This is our biggest fundraiser of the year and it helps us to pay for all the stuff that a community choir has to pay for--musicians, conductor, rehearsal space, you name it. Let's face it--in these crazy economic times, it's hard for community music groups to stay afloat. Sac Choral has done a pretty darned good job with ticket sales, but that doesn't offset all of our operating costs. So...we fundraise.

Here's the deal. Read this page about what the fundraiser is about. Decide whether or not you want to donate--even just five bucks would be great! It's a tax deduction! If you decide to donate, you can make a secure online payment here. In the little info box, tell Sac Choral that you're doing it because Megan Cooper asked you to. And Megan Cooper will be your best friend for life. Because you see, she loves to sing, and when she moved back to the Sacramento area in the fall, she was really, really happy to have a place to sing.

Right, out of third person, back into first person. I understand that most of you don't have the means or the desire to donate, and that's okay. I'm just throwing this out there on the off chance that someone who reads this blog will find a few extra dollars to give to a fantastic organization that is dear to my heart. I'll be at Sunrise Mall on February 9th, singing Broadway tunes for a couple of hours, surrounded by 170 other singers--a group of people I'm proud to sing with.

And if you'd rather give money and get something in return, consider our spring concert schedule. We'll be "coming home" to the Sacramento Community Center on April 14th, presenting a truly amazing concert that we are calling English Grandeur. There will be two pieces by Ralph Vaughn Williams, followed by the truly epic, incredibly difficult "Belshazzar's Feast" by William Walton. It's not for the faint of heart--full of dissonance, driving rhythms and the story of the king Belshazzar and the fall of Babylon. It took me three rehearsals to finally decide that I'm going to really love singing it--I held out so long because honestly, it is the most difficult piece of choral music I've ever sunk my teeth into. I leave choir every Monday feeling wrung out and exhausted...and I love it.

Obviously, music is very important to me. It has been one of the driving forces of my life since I was seven years old and my parents were dragging my whiny self to piano lessons each week. I hope to generate at least $20 of donations for this year's Sing-A-Thon...so if you have a few bucks that you're willing to give, I'd be very, very grateful.

And I'll tell you what...if I can get a few donations out of you all...I will record myself singing and post it here. I might even take requests!

Cheers!

I [Heart] the Internet

2012-01-26T19:52:00.000-08:00

Last night, I was participating in a Twitter chat for fitness buffs, and made a point of posting the link to this post, to share my story.

A little while later, Jennifer Ehle, the lovely English actress who played Lizzie Bennett to Colin Firth's Mr Darcy, responded to me. She follows me on Twitter, you see, ever since she asked people to share old games/toys from the 70s and 80s that we all used to play with. She followed everyone who responded to her that evening, saying she'd love to have a big play date with all of us. : )

Anyway, she complimented me on the success I've had losing weight, and I replied that I'd been in a Twitter chat, hence all the talking about weight loss and running. She came back with, "I read your blog!"

Jennifer Ehle read my blog.

I LOVE the Internet!

Fangirling over here.

A Hairy Situation

2012-01-25T20:28:00.000-08:00

In April 2010, I embarked on a bit of an experiment. The question: How long can I get my hair to grow before A) it's either too long to take care of, B) I'm completely sick of it? or C) It just stops and won't get any longer?

The answer has come in the last few weeks, as I decided that getting about six inches of my almost waist-length hair cut off would be great. Taking care of it has become a pain, and the ends were fried from all those years of bleaching.

So today, I was happy to get to the salon. I told the lady to cut six inches off, and touch up the layers, figuring I'd still have lots of length, but I'd get rid of the nasty ends, and it would be so much easier to wash, comb and style.

I even showed her, with my hands, what I thought six inches should look like.

No problem, right? The hairdresser took me to the sink to wash my hair, and we walked back to her station, where she combed it out, then pulled out her scissors, and...

Chopped off TEN inches.

I stared at the mirror, unable to comprehend what was happening.

She kept merrily trimming, shortening it even more. I just sat there like a moron, wanting to cry. There wasn't much I could do now.

She finally started to blow-dry it, and I reached up and said, shakily, "It's...it's really short."

She insisted she did what I told her to do, cutting six inches off. I said, "No...no, that's more than six inches."

"Well, the bad stuff is gone!" She was smiling reassuringly at my bleak face in the mirror. I wasn't drinking her Kool-Aid.

I was getting a little angry, actually.

Finally, she picked up some of my discarded hair and showed me. "See? Six inches!"

"That's...a lot...more...than...six...inches..." I said in a measured tone. She made some half-hearted protests about it being six inches and I just stared at her and said, "Whatever."

She started to style it. "No, please, this is fine. I'm just going home." She took the cape off and I fingered my hair, which was almost to my waist and now just brushes my shoulder blades.

I was close to tears, incredibly angry, and I just wanted to get the hell out of there, never to return. (For the record, the salon is Papillion Salon in Lincoln, CA, if you're looking to avoid having this happen to you.) I said to her, "I just hope I can still wear it in a ponytail when I work out." I took my scrunchie out of my purse and put it in a messy ponytail (after she had blown it dry, which was probably rude but I wanted her to know I was unhappy so maybe, in future, she won't do this to someone else) before paying her.

And here's the thing--it's a good cut. It looks great. Mom loves it. Dad was complimentary. My duck lady friends think it looks adorable.

But I'm shell-shocked. I wanted six inches cut off. Not ten (more, actually, once you factor in the additional trimming she did after quickly lopping off that initial ten inches).

Yes, it's cute. Yes, it will grow--and quickly because of my good nutrition and frequent exercise. But I'm so angry that someone can blatantly go against a customer's wishes and then act like it's what I asked for.

Anyway, for the record:

That's how long it is all around. And yes, I was pissed when I took this
picture.

Yeah, more than six inches.

Anyway, yes, it's a cute cut, blah, blah, blah. I can wear it in a ponytail without needing seventeen clips to hold it in place, which is good news for running and working out. I'm still a little angry, though. And I will NOT go back to this woman, if this is how she treats customers.

Conversations With My Trainer

2012-01-25T19:57:00.000-08:00

Two months in to my training with M. the Reasonable, things are moving along quite nicely. I'm losing weight every week, he's never had to get angry with me, and he once even told me he wishes he could transfer some of my "great" attitude to his other clients. We have a great rapport, so my appointments with him fly by in a flurry of hard exercising (he's nice, yes, but he still makes me work hard) and easygoing chatter.

We have none of the acidity that I could sometimes throw at G. the [long-suffering] Meanie (make no mistake, he gave me my share in return). I admit, I was a brat to the kid. With M., there's the occasional hint of sarcasm:

MtR: Okay, you're going to do [insert name of exercise I'm not crazy about] now.

Meg: Oh, GOODIE!!

He usually just greets this with a slightly evil smile, and possibly, "Your favorite!!"

Today, the following exchange occurred while I was completing an exercise I struggle with:

Meg: I can do this!

MtR: Yes, you can!

Meg: That was more for me than it was for you.

MtR: I know, I just wanted to let you know I'm on your side.

Meg: I appreciate that! Actually, I do that a lot. I mutter to myself as I'm working out. It's like I need to hear it, not just think it. People must think I'm crazy when I'm running.

MtR: I do that, too!

We went on to discuss that we talk to ourselves, basically. How it's not enough to simply think, "Come on, you candy ass, don't give up!" (yes, the term "candy ass" was used by both of us, and it was agreed that it's a great descriptive term). Sometimes, you have to hear it. So muttering it out loud to yourself just makes sense. In our minds, anyway.

All of my trainers have been great at motivating me, but it just seems like M. is constantly positive and upbeat about all of the successes I'm achieving, and also when I have bad days. He does not let me get down on myself.

I didn't see him as usual on Monday because he was ill, so at today's appointment, I was excited to tell him that 1) I weighed in at 158 the other day, and 2) I've signed up for my next 5K (roll on, February 26th). He was, of course, very pleased, and then he pointed something out.

MtR: So, February 26th...hmm, we'll be staring at the 140s by then!

Meg: Yeah...[thinking about just what this means] yeah...Wow, yeah!!!

MtR: [laughing as he watches light dawn on Marble Head]

Meg: I've gotten in the habit of focusing on the immediate goals. I've been thinking, "Yay, I'm getting close to 150! But you're absolutely right, I'm not far away from the 140s!

By far the best conversation we had today, however, was the one I thought might make him think I'm a complete moron.

Meg: Yeah, so...it's a little crazy. But...I ran my 5K on Sunday with a rubber duck strapped to my wrist.

MtR: [initially looking confused] A rubber duck?

Meg: Yes, I have a lucky rubber duck.

MtR: [motioning with his hands] Like a full-sized rubber duck?

Meg: No, he's just a small duck. [motioning with my own hands to show him how little Cali Swimmy is] It's kind of a long story, but he's got four friends. There are five of us--me here in California, Lindsay in Detroit, Maayan in New York, Amanda in Holland and Sarah in England. We all have ducks. We take random pictures of our ducks in random places.

MtR: That's awesome!

Meg: It's ridiculous, really, but--

Mtr: It's not ridiculous. I think it's awesome.

Meg: Well, we have fun, anyway!

MtR: So you take it everywhere?

Meg: Yeah, I take it on trips and adventures. My friends here have gotten used to me pulling the duck out of my purse for photo ops. Like when my friend Summer and I had our little trip a couple weekends ago, I took some duck pictures. I love it when I find a fountain, so he can swim in it.

MtR: [full-out laughing by now] I love it!

We discussed how there are people with traveling garden gnomes and other funny things, and he said, "It's not even weird, anymore, really, to do stuff like that. People have their strange little things, but no one really cares of thinks its strange anymore. This is your strange little thing, but I like it!"

Cali Swimmy approves. And yes, he'll be running that next 5K with me.

I've enjoyed working with all of my trainers--all of them have been easy to talk to, and though this blog would make you think that it was all sarcasm and acid with G., we actually had laid-back and friendly conversations all the time. It makes the workout more fun--I actually enjoy working hard at the gym, as it feels great to sweat and know I'm doing something great for my body, but having someone to talk and laugh with does make it even more fun. So it's nice when a trainer and trainee can get along as well as I do with M.

Going Down!

2012-01-24T19:13:00.000-08:00

When I finished my training with G. the Meanie in July 2010, I weighed in at 158 pounds. In two months with M. the Reasonable, I've lost the 15 I gained back in a year-and-a-half and I am now back at my "fighting weight." I have more to lose, of course, but when I weighed in yesterday and the scale said 158.6, believe me, I was feeling good.

Last night I had choir rehearsal, and I always try to dress well for that. Mom thought I looked really cute last night, in my Steve Madden boots (LOVE THEM) and a top that was, when I bought it in October, too tight to wear in public. My skinny jeans are baggy.

Always, always, followed around by my cats...

So here I am, at 158. I've got three appointments left with M., so I'll be buying more. He'll help me get to my next mini-goal of 150 pounds, and even beyond that. I'm within 20 pounds of 140, which is fantastic.

People have been asking me what my goal weight is, and I'm still loosely thinking 130, but honestly, both M. and I agree that a specific number is unnecessary, and that I should really just focus on having a healthy lifestyle and achieving my optimal fitness level. I'm hoping to get to a size 6 (right now I'm a size 10) in the next few months, and I have a feeling that's where my body will be most comfortable. I'm always going to be curvy--I have hips and booty and bust--and I'm fine with this. I also have muscle and strength, and that's improving every day.

Roll on, 2012. I'm off to a great start!

Monday Music: Aqualung

2012-01-23T10:00:00.000-08:00

Aqualung was recommended to me by iTunes, of all things. iTunes figured I'd enjoy it because I bought some other artists' music. I've been keeping a list of bands to "try out" on YouTube and so I set off to listen to Aqualung.

Unfortunately, iTunes didn't really get it right. Most of what I heard was just so-so. However, I did really love this song, and it's worth sharing.

My First 5K

2012-01-22T14:42:00.000-08:00

Today I ran the Whole Foods Running School Family Fun Run in Roseville, CA. Three or four months ago, I found a flyer for it while shopping at Whole Foods (gah, I love that store) and took it home, thinking, "Hmm. Maybe." Since then, I started training with M. the Reasonable, and as he encouraged my daily running, I started to think about making this 5K a goal for January. Right after New Year's, I signed up.

Here's the thing with me and running: I'm a lot better at it than I think I am. My biggest battle these days isn't shin splints and huge discomfort. I rarely (knock on wood) even have pain. My biggest battle is that stupid little voice in my head that keeps telling me, "You're not a runner." The devil on one shoulder keeps telling me that, while the angel on the other shoulder protests.

You know, like this.

So, yeah. I don't always believe in myself. The good news is, that's starting to change. Still, I approached today's "fun run" race with some trepidation.

My usual daily run course takes me about two-and-a-half miles. Most days, I can run it without stopping or walking. I haven't pushed myself to three miles in more than a year, and the last time I ran a sub-10-minute mile was July 2010. But since going back to training, I've been gaining confidence and even some speed, in small increments.

Anyway, I'm getting away from the original point of this post, which is to talk about today's race!

Last night, I asked my fellow runners on Twitter for advice about running a 5K in the rain. I got some great responses, including:

I also made a great 5K playlist on my iPod, using some of my favorite "running anthems" to inspire me along the route:

Yep, two songs with copious use of the f-word. I actually use "F*** You" to
tell that little devil in my head to go away and leave me alone.

This morning, I donned my red shirt (Why red? In honor of The Bloggess and her Traveling Red Dress Project.), but ended up abandoning the hat.

The 5K started at 8:50, so I arrived at Whole Foods at about 7:30, wanting a good parking spot and an easy registration. I've walked some untimed 5Ks in the past, but today was the first time I've ever had a timing chip. I collected my race bib (#759) and promptly...went back to my car to get warm.

And to take random pictures.

My race bib, my timing chip, my iPod, and my lucky rubber ducky. Also, my
new Nike shoe wallet to hold my car key and Chapstick.

Of COURSE Cali Swimmy had to come along! I used a couple of hair ties
to tether him to my wrist.

At 8:30, I went to the starting line to watch the 13-milers start their race. It was fun to cheer them on, and, ten minutes later, the 10K runners. Then I lined up near the start and walked in place and jumped around a bit to get warm. Finally, it was time for the 5K runners to go.

I started off at a reasonable pace--I am not a fast runner, but I knew I'd beat the walkers, anyway! I had to laugh when a lady passed me with her three-legged dog and it occurred to me that even a dog that's missing a leg is faster than I am. After that, I decided not to worry about how I ran compared to others, and to just enjoy the run as much as possible. (Some people enjoy running. I tolerate running and enjoy how I feel when I'm finished.)

I'm not gonna lie--I walked more of today's race than I intended to. There were some small hills that did me in (I run in a hilly neighborhood every day but I've got a route that goes mostly downhill and leaves the uphill parts for my cool-down walk back home). And my biggest complaint about "fun run" races like this one remains--dogs (except, of course, service dogs) should not be allowed. Not because a three-legged dog passed me, but because a little yappy dog almost tripped me by darting out in front of me with a taught leash.

But overall, I did very well, and just treated it like my normal Sunday morning run. As I approached the finish line, I felt like I'd accomplished something good, and very, very proud of myself. The clock said 37:03 as I crossed the line, but I'll have to wait to see what my official time was. I'm also waiting for the photographers who were there to get the pics up online, so I can see myself in action.

I went into today's race with what some might call low expectations. I didn't want to set a best time. I didn't expect--at all--to place within my age group. All I wanted was to go out there and prove--to myself--that I can get out there and do a 5K. I wanted to finish in less than 40 minutes.

Mission accomplished.

When I got back to my car, I dug my cell phone and wallet out from under the seat and saw a text message waiting for me. It was from M. the Reasonable, just before the race started, wishing me luck. I texted a simple reply: "I did it!"

Within a few minutes, I had his response: "I knew you would! Great job!" He's very supportive, is M.

I'm pleased with myself. I'm looking for more races to do, to keep challenging myself, and in the mean time, I'll continue running my daily neighborhood jaunt (well, not daily, I run it five days a week) and improving my time, my form, and most importantly, my confidence.

Quiet

2012-01-21T19:24:00.000-08:00

I've been quiet the last few days--I guess I just haven't had much inspiration to blog, and I've been busy with my normal working out and job-hunting duties.

Tomorrow I run my first 5K of 2012, and my first timed 5K ever. I'm nervous and excited and ready to get out there and get it done. M. the Reasonable has been encouraging me all week and told me to send him a text when I finish. He's really awesome about giving kudos when I need them.

Today was my rest day, so I've mostly just sat around. I watched a whole movie without getting up from the bed (since I've adopted a more active lifestyle, I sometimes find it hard to sit still for long periods of time) and cuddled with the cats.

It's supposed to be rainy and windy tomorrow, which isn't ideal for running a whole 5K (my normal running route these days is 2.5 miles, and a 5K is 3.1--I can do it but it's going to feel a lot longer in comparison, especially in rain and wind). I'll survive, though! I've got my red shirt ready to go, and I've devised a "leash" for Cali Swimmy so he can ride along on my wrist. It won't just be Cali going on a run with me tomorrow, but also my friends in ducky madness!

So it's off to bed early for me tonight--I have to be up early to eat a healthy breakfast and get ready. I want to get to the race venue early so I don't have to fight too hard for parking, and so I can walk and stretch a bit. I'll probably do the foam roller at home before I go.

Wish me luck!

Wordless Wednesday -- I Hope Sanity Prevails

2012-01-18T06:00:00.000-08:00

SOPA/PIPA

2012-01-17T22:20:00.000-08:00

I've been paying behind-the-scenes attention to the bills coming up in Congress that have many, many people worried about Internet censorship and our ability to freely blog, use Facebook, Twitter, and many other popular web sites.

Tomorrow, a large-scale online protest is happening--you may have heard about Wikipedia "going dark" for a day. The goal is to encourage everyone who uses the Internet for anything to contact their representatives (if you click on THIS LINK, it's super-easy to fill in your info and contact them within about thirty seconds). Use your voice, people--the elected officials don't run this country, WE do. Tell them you won't stand for Internet censorship!

This video does a pretty good job explaining how SOPA and PIPA would affect us all:

In support of this strike, I will not be blogging tomorrow (the Wordless Wednesday post you will see was scheduled tonight, to make a point). I will be using the Internet--I have daily job-hunting tasks that have to be done, after all--but my blog will be silent. If I have some sort of inspiration to post, it will have to wait 'til Thursday, and as I am the type to write blog posts as they come to me, this pains me. I can't imagine my right to this blog--which I've kept for over seven years--ever being taken from me. It would break my heart.

Monday Music: Beck

2012-01-16T10:00:00.000-08:00

Here's the thing about Beck--I was aware of him in the 1990s, but I was so immersed in my love of pop music that I didn't pay a whole lot of attention (though I always giggled at the song "Loser").

Fast forward to 2011, and Meg, who is hopeless when it comes to knowledge of the truly good music from the 1990s, has a chance to see Beck live at the Bridge School Benefit concert. And she likes what she hears.

Determined to hear more and form an opinion, once and for all, about Beck, she files away the idea that she needs to do some YouTube research. And then promptly forgets.

Fast forward again to a couple of months later. I was talking to M. the Reasonable about music during a workout in December and he made an off-hand mention of Beck (M. and I are of the same generation and also in very close agreement about what makes for good music). That evening, at home, I finally gave Beck a good, serious listen on YouTube and I walked away amazed. After all these years, I'm finally one of the cool kids who knows just how awesome Beck is.

Anyway, here's one of my favorites from his playlist.

Running For Another...And For Myself

2012-01-15T18:06:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, Beth of Shut Up And Run asked us all to remember her cousin and friend, Sherry Arnold, in our runs this weekend. Yesterday was my rest day, but I strapped on my running shoes this morning and went out for my run, and yes, I thought of Sherry. People like Sherry should not be forgotten...she is all of us.

It was windy outside when I got up this morning. I was not looking forward to going outside in the cold, but an hour or so after my breakfast, I dutifully strapped on my running shoes and set off with my iPod in hand.

I walk a fairly long warm-up route most days, listening to music and getting my legs primed for the run ahead:

At the corner of Spring Valley and Longspur Loop, I begin my run. Today, I was apprehensive--after having yesterday off, short drills on Friday, and a lame attempt on the treadmill on Thursday, I didn't know how I'd do out on the pavement today--especially with the wind as high as it was. But I started off at a fairly confident trot and settled into an easy rhythm.

At about the first mile, I thought of Sherry, and the joy she got from running. I still run because I have to for weight loss, and not so much because of joy, though I can feel a change slowly happening in me the more I run. I thought of how happy she would have been to be out on a sunny Sunday morning, battling the wind and watching hawks fly overhead. Maybe some of her joy, or her confidence, seeped into me. I kept running.

At Mile 2, I turned onto Twelve Bridges Drive, and the hard part began. This is always the hardest part of my run--I'm so near to the finish, and yet I can't rest. It is ever-so-slightly uphill at this point, and that is taxing on my legs and lungs. Today, I was running straight into heavy wind. My body was instantly fatigued. I put my head down and pounded harder. My arms were swinging, almost punching the air.

I let myself walk for about thirty seconds--the wind was just so intense. But I finished my route on a run, checking my stopwatch to see how I'd done.

Twenty-nine minutes, seven seconds.

Last week, I set a personal best on this route of 29:48. So today, battling wind, I bested my best time by forty-one seconds...and this with that thirty seconds of walking!

Elated, I began my mile-and-a-half cool-down walk home (uphill).

All told, I put in about five miles when I go out for a run--half walking, half running. Today, I burst through my best time, and I did it while running in difficult conditions. I feel very good about that.

Did You See THAT, Grandma Bean?

2012-01-14T21:21:00.000-08:00

On January 10, 1982, when Joe Montana connected to Dwight Clark for The Catch, I was three years old. There's a chance (I'll have to ask Mom) that I was "watching" the game with her, and Grandma and Grandpa Bean, who were devoted fans of the San Francisco teams--the 49ers for football and the Giants for baseball.

As I grew up and understood a little better, I came to love the 49ers as much as my grandparents and Mom did, and I can remember some fantastic moments played out by great athletes: Joe Montana, Jerry Rice, Ronnie Lott, Roger Craig...so many. I knew the starting players of the offense and defense--I still have great respect for guys like Harris Barton and Tom Rathman. I loved George Siefert's stern demeanor, and I watched my share of great 49er moments in the 80s, and into the 90s. (Also, for the record: I never referred to the stadium as anything but Candlestick Park or "The Stick." Because...no. Just no.)

I was, of course, a huge fan of Steve Young and the guys who took the team into the 90s. Jerry Rice continued to be a star (greatest wide receiver ever? You'll never convince me otherwise!), and new guys like Terrell Owens came in and kept the tradition of excellent offense alive.

I remember very well The Catch II from 1998, when Steve Young connected to Terrell Owens with eight--EIGHT!!--seconds left in a playoff game against the Green Bay Packers. Mom had left the room. We both figured the Packers had it, but I stayed in the living room, determined to support my guys 'til the bitter end. The crazed screaming that issued from my mouth brought Mom running back in time to see the replays, and I remember hugging her and doing a victory jig around the living room.

By 1998, both Grandma and Grandpa Bean were gone--Grandpa for seven years and Grandma for four. It was just Mom and I celebrating a fantastic sports moment. By this time, I was in college, and my own football viewing was way down. Turns out studying, being a music major and having a social life takes away from Sunday afternoon NFL viewing. It wasn't that I didn't care about the 49ers anymore, it was just that I had other things going on.

Fast forward fourteen years (how time flies!) and I haven't paid a tremendous amount of attention to football or the 49ers over the years. As my heroes retired and my favorite team floundered, I paid some attention...but I also allowed my new found interest in NASCAR (now, amazingly, going on eleven years) to take over my Sunday afternoons. Shouts of "GO JUNIOR!!!" replaced my excited shouts of "DE-FENSE! DE-FENSE!" I still considered myself a "49er fan," and would let anyone know that I had some serious fan credentials--I watched all of those five Super Bowls, thankyouverymuch (even if I don't necessarily remember one or two!). But really, I was a fan in name only for a long time.

I vaguely noticed this season that the 49ers seemed to be doing well, but again, I didn't pay a lot of attention. I had NASCAR, and my own running, and time with friends and family. You know, other stuff.

Then this morning, I noticed the 49ers were in the playoffs, and today's game would pit them against the Saints. Feeling a bit bored and listless this weekend (after last weekend's marvelous adventure with Summer, now I've got pretty much nothing going on), I decided to tune into the game.

Well, WOW.

It was a great game, though there were some sloppy defensive moments from the 49ers that allowed the Saints to first, catch up and second, take the lead. Then, the Saints pulled ahead in a stunning play with two minutes left, and the hearts of San Francisco's fans bled red and gold all over the place as they started breaking.

Here's the thing, though. One doesn't grow up a 49er fan without having a little bit of faith in sports miracles. I was spoon-fed replays of The Catch and I have watched this team come from behind in the face of crazy odds more than once. I never turn away from a 49er game until the last second has ticked off that play clock.

I believe...I think!! Yes, I believe! Maybe. Oh, hell. GO NINERS!!

My faith in the team may seem a little misguided--after all, this is a team of guys I know nothing about. Long retired are the incredible athletes I cheered for in my youth, and I was frantically learning names as I watched today's game. The coach is new this year? I didn't know that. But like any long-time fan of the San Francisco 49ers, I crossed my fingers, and I willed them to pull that miracle play out of their hats.

And what do you know...with the Saints ahead by three and only nine seconds left on the clock, Alex Smith threw a pass, and Vernon Davis caught it...and landed in the end zone. People are already calling it The Catch III or The Catch 3.0.

Thirty-three years old, and I can still scream like an eleven-year-old. And believe me, I did.

What a game. I can't wait to see what happens next week.

What 160 Looks Like

2012-01-14T07:00:00.000-08:00

I snapped this picture of myself yesterday. This is Meg, at approximately 160 pounds. Getting slimmer, getting stronger!

Meg, sweaty and feeling gooood after a workout.

The off-the-shoulder thing was a joke for my fellow ladies in ducky madness, though the shirt does have a tendency to move off one shoulder. Many things do. I have narrow shoulders, or so I've discovered through this whole weight loss adventure.

I'm hoping to be in the 150s on Monday (even if it's just 159.9!!) and forever out of the 160s. We'll see!

A Sobering Reminder

2012-01-13T13:48:00.000-08:00

I recently started following a blog, Shut Up and Run, for inspiration and humor. However, a week ago, the woman who writes it, Beth, posted that her cousin and friend, Sherry Arnold, had gone missing while out for her Saturday morning run in rural Montana. The only trace of her was a single running shoe.

Since then, I've checked in daily for updates. Today, the sad news came: Sherry Arnold is not coming home. The 43-year-old runner, wife, mother, and teacher leaves a small community of people shocked and saddened, but beyond that, she leaves a much larger community--of runners, of people who understand what it is to go out there and pound the pavement--desperately trying to understand why terrible things like this happen.

I didn't know Sherry, but she is me. She is every woman who constantly looks over her shoulder while running, calling herself paranoid. She is every woman who skips a day's run because it's too dark out, or she doesn't feel safe running alone. She is every woman who has been harassed, assaulted--or worse, abducted and/or killed while exercising that wonderful, oh-so-human right to go out and find joy in being healthy.

It's such a sobering reminder to all of us. It makes me sad, and it makes me angry. I hope whoever did this is found and appropriately locked up for life. I hold out hope that our world will get safer for women, that we will continue to watch out for each other.

My sincerest condolences go out to Sherry's family, friends and community. Her husband and children are in my thoughts as they come to terms with their horrible loss. Rest in peace, Sherry.

If My Glutes Could Talk...

2012-01-12T20:43:00.000-08:00

It's been a week or so since I've blogged about the ole fitness adventure, so tonight, let's talk about my booty.

Just what you all wanted!

I bring up my glutes because, OY! They are hurting today. Yesterday, M. the Reasonable had me do a new exercise, in which he put a 60-pound barbell on the floor and I had to move it across the room by squatting, picking up one end, rotating it, and then squatting again to gently set it down. Back up, rinse, repeat. Across the room and back. It was intense--in a good way.

My workouts with M. are going very well. He makes me work, and he does not let good form slide. During yesterday's glute-a-thon exercise (we also did some heavy-duty work on my back, shoulders and triceps), I looked at the weight I was moving, smiled and said, "Sixty pounds. That's how much I've lost, you know." He grinned back at me. "I can't believe I was carrying this around on my heart, my ankles, my...everything. And now I have to work to lift it off the ground."

This week, I've been less plagued by anxiety (actually, I've been quite chipper), and I've had some good runs, though on Tuesday, my left foot started to hurt. Paranoid about injury, I immediately sought M.'s advice on Wednesday, and he showed me some stretches I can do. It's still giving me some issues, but when I ran on the treadmill today, I notice the pain lessened when I ran (but was worse when I walked, go figure). Either the running motion helps stretch the sore muscles, or my foot was going numb.

Not exactly what I want to deal with a week shy of my first 5K, but I refuse to let it get me down.

Overall, I've lost about twelve pounds since I've started working with M., bringing me back to 161.6 pounds (as of Monday, anyway) and closer to getting back to the 150s. I got to 158 with G. the Meanie and I'm looking forward to forever bidding adieu to the 160s over the next couple of weeks.

Tomorrow, it's back to the gym for my weekly assignment. It involves lots of squats and lunges, as well as some intervals on the treadmill. My glutes are weeping just thinking about it, but I did it twice last week and know I can power through tomorrow, too. Saturday is my rest day and then it's back to the running on Sunday.

So we're plugging along. I'm seeing huge differences in my body--slightly leaner, muscles coming back, and even my Burpees are getting better, miracle of miracles (I did 12 yesterday with M. and I could actually jump back, instead of having to step back. Yay me!). My skinny jeans are baggy, my size 10s fit comfortably again, and my pajamas are falling down on me.

Honestly, training is the best thing I've ever done for myself--it seems to be the motivation I need to stay healthy and strong, and the guidance is great. I've been really lucky, first with G. and now with M., having trainers with styles that I work well with.

Monday Music: Ben Folds

2012-01-09T10:00:00.000-08:00

For all the time I've known Summer, I've known she's a huge fan of Ben Folds. I always meant to get to know his music, but it wasn't until July, when I saw him in concert, that I really started to understand what a flippin' brilliant musician he is. I've been slowly buying up as much of his music as I can justify spending my money on at a time, and I'll probably feature him a few times more on Monday Music. It's too difficult to pick just one good song to share.

This one is great live--there's an audience sing-along (on those Ahh-ahhs in the chorus) that is a lot of fun. He can get a large crowd harmonizing!

Here's a great video of him singing it with the Dartmouth Aires on "The Sing-Off," complete with audience participation.

Running In Red

2012-01-08T18:39:00.000-08:00

If you read this blog with any regularity, you know that over the last two years, I've had my share of ups and downs when it comes to running. The biggest problem I have with the sport does not come from shin splints or sore knees but rather good, old-fashioned fear. Fear of injury, fear of failure, fear of believing in myself.

In the last couple of months, I've started following The Bloggess, a hysterically funny blogger who writes irreverent musings on life and Wil Wheaton. She buys giant metal chickens named Beyonce, and her long-suffering husband puts up with her shenanigans. I have been known to sit here at my computer, near tears from laughing at her blog. And then, last week, I was in real tears, reading this post, and later, this one, about her depression and self-harm...and the incredible, moving response the first post got from her readers all over the world. People who get it. People who relate. People who have been saved by finding out, from The Bloggess, that they are not alone.

Today, I found out about a project she's been doing for over a year now, The Traveling Red Dress. The gist of it is that she decided, a while back, to stop worrying about how impractical it was to buy a flashy red evening gown, having no place to wear it...and to just buy the dress and enjoy it. To give herself permission to live. Because, as she said, "I am worth it." The dress, after she enjoyed it, began a journey, traveling from woman to woman to woman, bringing joy, freedom, and LIFE wherever it stopped.

Where am I going with all this?

I have decided that I am sick and tired of letting the bad days get me down. On Thursday, I had my second bad run of the week and texted M. the So-Kind-To-Put-Up-With-Me about my frustration. I was tired. My shins hurt. My confidence was in the gutter. It was my 2nd bad day in one week after the previous week was so great. With two-and-a-half weeks left until my first 5K, I was feeling like I'd never be able to run the whole race, or even half.

Tonight, I've made the decision to let go of all that. I am going to stop caring about times, personal records, and my own always-fluctuating confidence. Two weeks from today I will line up for my first true 5K. I will run. I may not run the whole way. I may run slower than ever. I may set a best time. But I will cross that finish line with a smile on my face, and I will enjoy every minute of that race because every step will bring me closer to realizing my goal of truly believing, deep in that dark inner place, that I am a runner.

I've decided to wear red. All of my workout gear is black for convenience, so I'll have to find red running gear. If I can't, I'll make some sort of sign I can wear pinned to my back. But in honor of Jenny the Bloggess, and more importantly, in my own honor, I will be wearing red--literally and figuratively--as I run my first 5K.

Wish me luck!

The First Mini-Adventure of 2012, Part 2: On a Mission

2012-01-07T19:33:00.000-08:00

After finding and purchasing Biggie Swimmy last night, there was nothing else that could be done but to go back to the hotel, watch a rented movie on Summer's laptop, and then crash in happy exhaustion.We woke up this morning ready for more adventures, and after leisurely getting ready and having some breakfast, we checked out of the hotel and got on our way.

I'm lucky that I have two very good friends who are also interested in seeing the California Missions. Today I saw my 11th and 12th missions with Summer (only nine to go!): Mission Santa Clara and Mission San Jose.

The first stop was Mission Santa Clara, which is on the small campus of Santa Clara College, a Catholic university. The mission is lovely, and beautifully maintained.

Fantastic sign that Summer spotted as we drove to the mission.

Mission Santa Clara.

A very old adobe wall.

Curiously, there was a bowl of water and a bowl of
cat kibble...as well as some pictures of a cat.

Inside the church itself. I love the bright colors used in the mission church
interiors.

The ceiling.

Mission Santa Clara was the first mission named
for a female saint.

After Santa Clara, we set off for Mission San Jose (which is actually in the city of Fremont), stopping along the way for Greek salads.

We had to drive down Benton Street (Benton is Summer's maiden name).

Mission San Jose

It took both of us a moment to be comfortable pronouncing "Gloriosisimo."
He must have been very glorious indeed.

Short doorways, or Meg on stilts? Either way, look how skinny I'm
getting in my middle!!

With 12 missions under my belt, I've seen a lot of this
guy, Fr. Junipero Sera, the founder of the missions.

All pictures in the church are blurry because no flashes were allowed.
But you get the basic idea.

As I muttered to Summer, "Funny that they have all these pagan
Christmas trees all over the place..."

An experimentation...taking a pic through the keyhole of a very, very
old door.

I changed the setting on my camera and accidentally
got one picture with the flash. oops.

One last look at Mission San Jose.

After Mission San Jose, we drove back to Oakland, where I transferred my gloriosisimo new rubber duck, my overnight bag, favorite pillow, and cooler (M. the Reasonable is going to be quite proud of me for taking wise food choices and protein smoothies along with me this weekend) to Rosie Pro and hit the road for the two-hour drive back to Lincoln.

I had a wonderful weekend with Summer, filled with laughter, chatter, catching up, and some fun adventures. I got to see three great tourist stops I hadn't seen before. Summer and I agreed that we need to have mini-adventures more often, and we have plans to find something fun to do the first weekend of February.

The First Mini-Adventure of 2012, Part 1: It's a Mystery

2012-01-07T18:06:00.000-08:00

Anxiety! Stress! Bad running! What a week it's been (about fifteen minutes ago, I went outside to get something from my car and saw that it's a full moon, which explains a lot).

My last post dealt with my bit of anxiety this week, and how it affected my running. On Wednesday, I had a decent enough run (slow, tired, but I made it), and then on Thursday, it was back to being tired, sore, short of breath and generally miserable. I felt fifteen different kinds of awful after that horrible attempt, but at least it would be my last run until Sunday.

Friday morning finally came--I've had fun plans cooking with Summer for a good month now, and I'd been zeroing in on Friday as the day I got to just relax and do fun stuff with a good friend. I managed to power through my Friday assignment workout, and then after a quick shower at the gym, I was zooming down I-80 to Oakland. Once there, I left Rosie Pro in Summer's driveway, and we were off to San Jose and a long-overdue mini-adventure.

Before I get into the what-we-dids and where-we-wents and pictures, I just have to say that we both really, really needed this weekend. Summer, the last several months, has had a lot on her plate and has never truly been able to relax and have a good time. It was awesome, for both of us, to just do silly things and make stupid jokes and laugh a lot...what a fantastic time.

We started at the Winchester Mystery House, home to an eccentric woman, Sarah Winchester, who was convinced by a psychic that if she ever stopped construction on the house, the spirits of people killed by Winchester rifles would haunt her. She held regular seances, had the contractors build stairways to nowhere, doors to nowhere, and all kinds of architectural oddities as the house expanded from an eight-room farmhouse to a huge mansion with more twists and turns than a maze.

The tour was quite entertaining, and something I had never done (though I grew up in Northern California).

Of course, the house is on Winchester Road.

And there has to be a Winchester Shopping Center.

I did NOT buy any rifle cartridges.

Cali Swimmy had a quick paddle in the fountain.

Highway robbery!!

No Sarah and Lindsay, they did not have a Turducken sandwich. Yes,
I checked the menu!

In the courtyard before our tour.

I had Summer take a picture of me next to a tiny door, only for us to be
told, "Sorry, no pictures inside on the tour!" Duly chastised, Summer
turned the camera down and got a shot of her feet.

The tour took us on a walk that was about a mile long--the house is huge, and we certainly didn't see all of it. The grounds were not all that exciting after walking up crazy stairs and peering through doors to nowhere, but we gamely walked around.

Pics were allowed outside, after the tour of the house.

Sarah Winchester liked spider webs in her designs.

This looks like an ordinary, half-dead topiary bush...its significance is
that it points to the room in which Sarah Winchester died.

A gingerbread replica of the mansion.

We had to walk out onto the main street to get a pic of the front of the
house. This was taken by me, standing on tip-toe, with my arm extended
as high as it could go.

After the tour, we crossed the street to Santana Row, a ritzy-type shopping center, where we browsed in some shops and had PinkBerry frozen yogurt as a treat.

Great movie theater sign near Santana Row.

Santana Row, and Summer, not knowing I got her in the pic!

No, I did not buy them. Not even *I* am going to run around with ducks
sticking out of my ears.

Chocolate and Peanut Butter swirl with dark chocolate bites. So yummy!

Giant chess game.

I had Summer take this pic, inspired by an Elton John lyric. "Just a
pawn outplayed by a dominating queen." Though I am hardly very
dominating with that ridiculous flower brooch.

Yesterday's adventure didn't end there. We checked into our hotel and decided to walk to a nearby shopping center for dinner. The center was predominantly Asian restaurants and shops, and as Asian cuisine sounded good to both of us, we happily wandered around looking for just the right place. After dinner, we went to the supermarket to look around, and then back to our hotel.

Broccoli beef and a potato dish that set my mouth on fire.

Cali Swimmy does NOT approve.

Shrimp at the market.

Ugh.

Blue crabs.

Summer's iPhone was getting low on juice so we decided to find a Rite Aid to buy a charger.We were both relaxed, enjoying ourselves, feeling great having had a fun afternoon as we wandered up and down the aisles. I wandered into some Christmas clearance and found...

It's just too wonderful.

I busted out laughing, grabbed the box off the shelf, and marveled that it was 50% off, and only five bucks.

"You have to buy it," Summer laughed.

"I...Yes. Yes, I do," was my reply.

So I did. Cali Swimmy has a new friend, dear readers.

Meet Biggie Swimmy. He's...the most wonderful clearance item
I've ever found.

Yes. Friday was a fantastic day.

Anxiety

2012-01-04T14:57:00.000-08:00

I don't talk about it a lot, but I don't hide the fact that I suffer from anxiety on occasion, either. I don't believe in staying quiet. Part of what has helped me get better and learn coping skills has been talking about it, knowing that others in the world have the same challenges.

When I look back at College Meg, I often wonder how I functioned sometimes. When things got really stressful, I got hysterical. The crying jags, the feeling of everything being impossible. My dad would tell me, "There's no crying in baseball!" and I'd bravely try to push through...but sometimes, it was just too much. It wasn't until 2007, when I was having a really rough time of it in Antioch, that I talked to my doctor and realized that I had been dealing with anxiety for several years. The catalyst was when I woke up one morning, completely stressed about everything that was going on at work, feeling that if I went to work that day, I might not make it through the day without completely losing control of my emotions. I called an advice nurse, who told me, "You sound like you're having a panic attack. Let me get you in to see your doctor."

Me? Panic attacks? What?

I suppose anxiety manifests itself in different ways for different people. For me, it's a feeling of dread, nervous energy and a strong belief that I simply cannot do what needs to be done. My heart rate accelerates and I have to focus on taking deep breaths to stay calm. After my doctor visit in 2007, I got Xanax to take on an as-needed basis, and that helped stave off the panic attacks.

What has really helped me in the long run (and I'm not saying this would help everyone, but it has worked a lot for me, personally) has been getting into better physical shape. Not just losing the weight, but actually being able to get up and move. In the past couple of years, as I've lost my medical coverage and had to go a lot of things on my own, I've noticed that I can rein myself in from having an all-out panic attack by exercising. When Mom landed in the emergency room this past August with chest pains, I sat in my dining room feeling the shortness of breath and pounding heart coming...but I got up and went to the gym and before long, I wasn't having the symptoms anymore.

I am still the same hyper, emotional Meg I've always been--maybe somewhat reactionary sometimes, even--but since I've achieved a higher fitness level, I'm ever-so-slightly more Zen in how I react to life as it comes at me. Maybe all this running makes me too tired to be bothered getting stressed. Whatever it is, it's a great thing, but I'm always, always aware that being prone to anxiety is just part of who I am and that I have to be ready for it.

Yesterday, I woke up at 3:30 in the morning, after only three or so hours of sleep. I didn't sleep well again before my alarm went off at 6:30 and spent most of the early morning feeling listless and unable to focus on my normal daily tasks. As I drove to the gym to go to yoga class, I felt like crying--I have no idea what I was so upset about, to be honest--and my heart rate started getting faster. I took a few deep breaths, and realized I was near to having a panic attack. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, I don't really know, but I was bothered and out of sorts about it.

Yoga class helped, as did running, to a point. I had a rough day, running-wise. The fatigue and the state of near-panic I was still in made breathing difficult and I started cramping. When my shoelace came untied at the twenty-minute mark, I threw my hands up and said, "That's it." Then I guilted and grumped the whole two miles home, wondering how I'd explain to M. the Reasonable that I hadn't met my goal of thirty minutes.

Today, I'm better. I don't feel like crying, and my breath and my heart rate are normal. I ran on the treadmill to warm up before my appointment, and felt really good. While working with M., I told him about yesterday's bad run. To my relief, he just smiled at me and said, "There will be bad days. Not every day can be a good day." He went on to tell me that he doesn't worry about me because whenever I have a bad day, I go out the next day and push harder to have a great day. I don't have strings of bad days in a row (excepting, of course, the several days of back pain that kept me from running in December) and I don't make excuses.

"You'll go out there today and kick butt."

"I will certainly do my best. I don't quit."

I went on to explain to him that part of the problem yesterday was really just my anxiety. And here's the thing about telling people about anxiety: some people just don't get it. If you haven't had a panic attack, or held one at bay by the sheer force of your stubbornness, it's hard to know exactly what it's like. It's not something that can be fixed with a "Just calm down!" or a hug. But as I told M. what I was going through yesterday, he simply nodded, and then he amazed me by saying, "I suffer from anxiety, too."

He gets it, and that makes all the difference. Yesterday was a rough day--not a day I was going to go out there and kick butt while running. I tried--for myself, for my health--and trying, getting that physical activity, helped me in a lot of ways. I was able to calm down a little. I slept like a log last night. And any worry I had about M.'s reaction to my having a bad run (he did say, "Twenty minutes is actually not bad, you know.") due to anxiety was stamped out by his simple, I've-been-there-too understanding. And for that, I'm so very grateful.

It reminds me that I'm not the only one on this big revolving planet who deals with this stuff. None of us are ever really alone.

My Story

2012-01-02T21:28:00.000-08:00

In the last week-and-a-half, I've really hit my stride (pun intended) with this running deal. I Tweet about my running a lot, and I noticed a couple of running-types had started following me, so I followed back. Before I knew it, in a matter of a couple of days, I was following all kinds of runners and fitness types and participating in Twitter chats with hashtags like #workingoutsucks and #fitfluential.

A lot of these people blog, so I'm following some new blogs on my Google Reader. And suddenly, I'm part of this community of runners (or runnerds, ha ha). Part of me felt, at first, like a complete wannabe, but all these thirty-minute runs (and I'm getting faster, slowly but surely) don't lie. I am a runner because I get out there and run. I run at midnight on New Year's Eve (M. the Reasonable loved this) and I am thinking of getting a Kindle subscription to Runner's World. As I said to M. this morning, "Oh, my God, who am I becoming?!" He just laughed.

Anyway, with commenting on other blogs and hoping to get new people reading my own blog, I thought I'd write a post telling my story--the story I've been telling over hundreds of posts, starting in 2009, when I worked up some nerve and walked up to one of my gym's super-fit trainers and said those three words that are so hard to say sometimes: "I need help."

So on February 20, 2009, I had my first appointment with my first trainer, who would later be dubbed, for purposes of anonymity, B. the Sadist. I weighed 220 pounds (I'm 5'2") and carried 45% body fat. I had problems with high blood pressure and anxiety. I wanted to be healthy. I wanted to be thinner, cuter, everything else-r. I had no idea how crazy, difficult, exciting and wonderful the road ahead of me would be.

B. the Sadist kicked my butt in the workouts, but my time with him is sort of blurred now. He moved in April that year, and transferred my remaining sessions to another trainer, a woman I dubbed C. the Sweetie. I worked with her until late August, and then went on my own for a while.

The overall theme from my first to trainers when I look back on those six months is that while I got off to a decent start, they weren't the greatest fits for me. B. didn't want me eating any fats--not even healthy ones. No feta cheese on that Greek salad, no avocado, no olive oil. The diet was so restrictive, I really couldn't make it work. C. was really great to work with, but she never held me accountable for any of the cardio I was supposed to be doing on my own, like running. I loathed running, and didn't believe for one minute that I could do it. (This post, the first time she made me run, is hilarious, looking back at it over two-and-a-half years later.)

In December 2009, frustrated by my inability to keep the motivation going, and sensing that the twenty-five pounds I'd lost while working with B. and C. were creeping back on, I signed up for five half-sessions of training for "a kick in the butt." C. had left the gym, so I was paired up with my third trainer...G. the Meanie.

What can I say about G.? Five half-sessions turned into I-don't-know-how-many sessions. Over the next seven months, he would challenge me, piss me off, believe in me, make me believe in myself, and make me laugh with his vain and cocky (his words, not mine!) nature--sometimes all of these things in one appointment! He was the first of my trainers to take a complete interest in making me healthier and helping me meet my goals. B. and C. both cared during an appointment, but when I wasn't working with them on the clock, I was on my own. G. had a completely different approach. On non-appointment days, he would see me in the gym after work and he would find a few minutes to quiz me. "What's your cardio today? Just elliptical? I think you should..." I'd roll my eyes and brace myself for the coming lecture. Then I'd gamely give it a try, while glaring at his back as he sauntered off to work with another client. I can't tell you how many times I gave him the finger behind his back.

Then, one day, he made me run a mile-and-a-half. This is the only time in my life I've ever told someone, "I hate you." (Followed, a few minutes later by, "I didn't mean that," from me and, "I know" from him). From the post linked above:

I can't tell you how happy I was as we approached the end of our course. I wanted to cry--because I hurt, because I was angry that he made me do it, because I was frustrated at not losing weight this week...but also because I made it.

This was another first--the first time I ever ran a mile-and-a-half. In thirty one years, no one had ever made me try.

So I started running. It was, by far, one of the biggest challenges I've ever faced in my life--and people, I've taught middle school. But a theme started to emerge as I got to know G.--I refused to quit. I refused to bend and break. Even when I threw up in front of him while running one day, I never quit. Before long, he would goad me: "Are you gonna quit?" I would get so angry, and I'd half-screech at him, "Have I ever quit on you?!" And I never did--Coopers aren't quitters.

In my time with G., I had my first war wound (it was a beaut!), became a Gymbo, showed G. the worst side of my personality on a regular basis, used sarcasm to great effect, and insulted him (I once called him a meathead, which I think honestly made him feel bad). I learned to kick a little booty in the Boot Camp class, wore a size 10 (and then a size 8!) for the first time since high school, and at the end of it all, in July 2010, I had G. (outed in this post) to thank for my grand total of 60 pounds lost, a ton of new confidence in my ability to work out and run, and for pushing me--sometimes literally--to become an athlete.

I wasn't finished, but I felt I could keep going on my own, and for a while, I did, despite being laid off from my teaching position. But this year, in August, I moved back to my parents' place for a while and the weight was creeping back up. Some back pain in October stopped me from running and I was having some serious lack of motivation. So in November, I signed up for more training at my new club, and the manager paired me with M. the Reasonable, who has proven to be just what I need. We've discussed the differences between him and G., and determined that they're not really that different (though M. is far less cocky than G.--and again, G. owned his cockiness with pride). No, the difference this time around is me. I'm not a 200-pound non-athlete anymore, I'm someone who knows just how far she can go. I whine a lot less with M. and have met everything he's thrown at me so far with a chipper, "Bring it on!"

Since November, I've lost 10 pounds, and I'm just about back to where I ended with G. My running is really starting to take off, even though I have had some lingering back issues in recent weeks (M. has truly been a rock star as I've worked through this, helping me stretch and keeping the workouts appropriate for what I can do when my back hurts). I've started going to yoga at least once a week, and the weight is starting to melt off again. As of today, I'm back to 163. My most recent blog posts detail how I'm finally starting to make it thirty minutes, six days a week, running, without stopping or walking.

So, if you've made it through this novel of a post, well, thank you. And hello. My name is Megan--you can call me Meg. I am a thirty-something California Girl music nerd, and I...yeah, I'm a runner. : )

I don't blog exclusively about fitness and running--this blog was created when I moved to England to teach for a year, and I share my adventures. I just happen to look at being fit as a huge adventure. One I'm happy to keep having. But you'll also see pictures from trips I take, posts about my two very spoiled cats, rants about things that annoy me, and other random things.

So let's close this off with some pictures. I'm tremendously proud of these pictures. You can see just how far I've come. At my first appointment with M., I showed him my before picture. He stared at it for a moment, then turned to look at me for a moment. A grin spread across his face, and he said, "You've worked so hard."

2007 Size 18 (That's my brother in the pic with me.)

Size 16 here...in my classroom.

Sagging my jeans like my middle school kids!

I'm melting!!

I was so excited when I found I could wrap my bath towel around my
body without having a HUGE gap on one side.

Forty-five pounds GONE! I could barely hold up that disc weight,
and yet, I'd been carrying that around for years.

Finally sick of my pants falling down as I ran, I started wearing leggings,
and I haven't looked back.

Shortly before I stopped working with G., I got this pic of myself feeling
all kinds of hottie in my size 10 jeans.

Body: size 10. Jeans: size 18. I still have those jeans, as a reminder.

I'm a Success Story at the Stockton, CA club. : )

G. the Meanie (Gershom) -- my "vain and cocky" third trainer, who
helped me learn to believe in myself.

May 2010, attempting the climbing wall on a field trip with my 8th graders.
First time I wasn't ashamed of how my backside looks in a picture!

A more recent picture--the choir dress does nothing to flatter my figure
but oh, well. And the duck? That's a whole story of it's own...

Monday Music: The Civil Wars

2012-01-02T10:00:00.000-08:00

It's back! I considered not doing Monday Music posts anymore, but I figured, what the heck, I'll keep doing them. I've recently come across some artists that I'm really digging, and I want to share them.

My friend Meghan got me into The Civil Wars a few months ago; they have a lovely sound and I'm anxious to buy some of their stuff on iTunes.

Hello, 2012!

2012-01-01T00:33:00.000-08:00

Forty-five minutes ago, I was blogging about how I must be going off the deep end, choosing to run at midnight. And then I went out there and ran.

It was just a mile. It's cold out, and I'm tired. I'm aware that running alone at night isn't the greatest idea even in a safe neighborhood like ours. I stuck to the residential streets and watched out for people driving (I saw exactly one car on the road the whole time I was out there).

The most amazing thing happened--you're going to think I'm just being maudlin, but everything I'm about to type is absolutely true (my blog promises Wild and Absolutely True, and that's what you get from me).

I enjoyed myself.

No, really.

I was pounding the pavement, feeling the little creaks and groans that come from a sleepy body doing its second run in less than 24 hours, but I was smiling. It felt good to be out there, moving. It felt right to start off 2012 by running--even just a little bitty one-miler--and I felt this deep sense of peace and joy. I've never felt that way when running. Sure, I get the standard runner's high of endorphins and "I can now commence taking over the world!!!" energy but never that all-out joy. I was smiling--laughing even. When the clock on my cell phone switched from 11:59 to 12:00, I took out my iPod headphones and listened to the fireworks going off all over the place and the loud cheers and laughter coming from nearby homes. I was alone out there but I felt so happy, so peaceful, and so not lonely. And deep in me, I felt like this year is going to be a good one. This year, I'll get my career back on track. This year, I'll overcome all of my confidence issues with running (I'm off to a good start!) and run some 5Ks.

So welcome, 2012. Let's see what we can do, shall we?

I Am Insane

2011-12-31T23:05:00.000-08:00

It's official. I'm off my rocker.

I am determined to run at midnight. Never mind that it's bloomin' COLD out there (in the 30s, and my friends in colder climates can stop laughing, I'm a California Girl and 36 degrees is freezing, as far as I'm concerned). Never mind that I haven't stayed up this late in a good couple of months because of all the getting up early to cook my eggs, make a smoothie and rush off to the gym to work out with M. the Reasonable. Never mind that I ran two-and-a-half miles this morning...another thirty-minute run, and people, I think it's messing with my brain because I actually want to--am determined to--go for a midnight run so I can "start off 2012 right."

Not a long run--I can't stand another thirty minutes. I'm thinking a mile or so. Just to be running when the clock strikes midnight and 2012 begins in California.

Let's keep in mind that I'm pretty much the World's Most Reluctant Runner EVER and that even this morning, before a particularly good run (minimal shin splints, decent speed), I was whining and groaning to myself as I laced up my trainers and geared up for the long haul. I'm volunteering to get out of my pajamas, leave the warm house, and run in the middle of the night, all because I feel like I need to send myself a message that 2012 is the year I finally run a whole 5K, and maybe even aim for a 10K and good grief, this is why I have never experimented with drugs--if a runner's high can send me out the door running when I should be curled up in bed surrounded by cats then we can be assured that anything illegal would mess me up in ways that are too scary to contemplate.

Honestly, something has happened to me this week. I really thought that Christmas Eve's thirty-minutes-no-stopping-no-walking run was a fluke caused by lingering anger from an argument I'd just had with Dad. But then, on Monday, I got out there and did it again. And again on Tuesday. Wednesday. Thursday. I took Friday off and then managed another thirty minute run today. It's like a switch has flipped in my head and suddenly I really, truly believe that I'm a runner. It's a little scary, really.

I've started following all these similar fitness-crazy types on Twitter. There's actually a term for us: runnerds. Get it? Runner and nerd! I'm becoming a runnerd, in addition to being a Singing Fool and a Duck Lady and every other unique and wonderful and weird thing that makes me Meg of the L.P.B.

Running at midnight, people. What have I become?

Presenting...

2011-12-31T18:12:00.000-08:00

My parents.

This was taken about 15 minutes ago, in my Batcave.

Happy New Year!

Intentions for 2012

2011-12-31T10:00:00.000-08:00

I have not read The Secret, but a recent blog post by my friend Lindsay about intentions for 2012 referenced it, and I like the idea of using visualization to make 2012 be a happy, successful year for myself. She listed her own intentions in her blog post, and I would like to list mine here, instead of the usual New Year's Resolutions.

Without further ado, I present my intentions here:

I intend to continue focusing on good health and fitness habits.
I intend to continue growing as a runner, improving my time and my stamina.
I intend to find a new beginning in my career, whether it's back to teaching or moving on to something else.
I intend to make an effort to see my friends as often as possible and continue making new ones as I pursue new hobbies.
I intend to continue on the path I've started since moving back with Mom and Dad, and to eliminate the burden of debt from my life.
I intend to believe in myself more--that I am worthy of being hired, of being liked, and of being happy.

What are your intentions for 2012?

Moments

2011-12-30T16:27:00.000-08:00

Inspired by Alana over at Sunshine and Bones, I am creating a post of moments from 2011--those moments that hold so much meaning when you look back at them. 2011 wasn't a bad year. I'm still jobless, but I'm making things happen for myself. Thinking back over 2011, there were so many moments that meant so much in hindsight. Here they are...

Possibilities: I took this picture from a rest stop along Interstate 5, which runs down the center of California from the Oregon border to somewhere in SoCal. I was driving to King City, south of Monterey, for a job interview. I didn't get the job, but sometimes, just getting an interview is heartening.

I rarely experience sunrises--even when I'm awake in time, I'm usually holed up indoors, not paying attention. So seeing this one reminded me that every day is a fresh start, with new possibilities. I try not to forget that.

At the capitol building in Sacramento

Speaking up: With my background in teaching, I've always been careful about sharing political opinions in forums that might be found by students. This year, I've let go of that a little, especially because of this case--the Troy Davis case resonated with me. My initial knowledge of it came from Richard Hughes of Keane, but once I read some of the history, I was appalled that a case filled with so much doubt could result in execution.

It wasn't about innocence or guilt for me, but rather the idea that in order to tell people, "Thou shalt not kill," we use killing as an accepted punishment. I'm not comfortable with this idea, even in clear-cut cases where guilt is known with one hundred percent certainty. This year, I spoke up--in a very small way, but I spoke up, and I'm proud of that.

Joy: It's one thing to become friends with someone on the Internet and another when that friendship comes crashing into real life. I was so very fortunate to meet Maayan in person this year, and her friendship has come to mean a great deal to me. One of the most joyful moments I can remember this year was singing along with Mumford and Sons at the Railroad Revival Tour, arm-in-arm with a loud, crazy actress from New York who doesn't mind a loud, crazy musician from California and all of her various quirks.

Comfort: Summer and I have been friends for over eleven years now, and she has seen me through the highs and lows of finishing college, starting a career, traveling, moving (a lot) and everything that comes with becoming an adult. I'm sincerely happy that we are still friends, and that she is doing so well in her own life--a good career, a great husband, and yet, still time to go on adventures, big and small, with her duck-toting friend. She listens to me when I need an understanding ear, and I try to do the same for her.

Taken while on a walk in my Stockton neighborhood,
a few months before moving.

Victory: Off in the distance, as seen from one of many waterways in the San Joaquin Valley, is Mt. Diablo, which for a few years, was a symbol of stress and anxiety. I vanquished it in 2010, and now, it is merely a symbol of how much I have overcome in my personal life. What used to defeat me now makes me stronger. I could see the devil mountain from Stockton, and on a clear day, I can see it from a certain hillside here in Lincoln. Whenever I see it, I think to myself, "You are so much stronger than you can even know." And I smile.

Bliss: Maybe it's because I'm a fiery Leo, but something about the ocean calms me, helping my normally racing imagination slow down and be peaceful when I'm near it. And there is no ocean like the Pacific. The greatest joy of living in California is being near it--and having opportunities, whenever I can make them happen, to sink my toes into the sand and feel the water rush over them. Even an overcast day in Carmel does nothing to diminish the bliss of having my feet in the ocean.

This is not a complete list, of course. I've had so many moments this year--happy, sad, angry, anxious, victorious, and everything in between. It's been a good year...and something tells me 2012 is going to be even better.

What are some of your best moments from 2011?

Sleepy

2011-12-29T19:51:00.000-08:00

I went out for my daily run this morning, as usual. When I got home, Mom asked, "Did you do thirty?"

"Yup!"

Then I...

Made my protein smoothies for the day
Took all of my Snoopy ornaments off the mini tree in the kitchen
Packed up the tree
Loaded my Christmas stuff into Rosie Pro
Helped Mom take apart the big Christmas tree and put her Christmas stuff away in the garage
Washed my bed linens
Vacuumed and dusted my bedroom
Cleaned my bathroom
Showered
Put my freshly laundered bed linens back on the bed
Drove over to my storage unit to put my Christmas stuff back and pay the rent
Went to Target
Went to Safeway
Came home HUNGRY because notice I haven't mentioned LUNCH in this list
Drank my second smoothie
Helped Mom make dinner

This is all to explain why I'm going to bed at 8:00 tonight.

A Regular Thing

2011-12-28T17:21:00.000-08:00

I thought about putting a question mark at the end of the title to this blog post, but decided against it.

Here's why:

I am not going to fall victim to the same lack of confidence that has held me back in my running for so long. M. the Reasonable today, upon hearing that yesterday saw me complete yet another thirty-minute run--no stopping, no walking--said, "Well, I guess this is a regular thing now." The devil in my brain immediately started thinking of reasons it can't be possible for me to run thirty minutes, six days a week, without massive amounts of drama. Shin splints, exhaustion, twinges in the knees, headache, hunger, and a whole list of other things that might hinder me. And then the little angel in my conscience told the devil to shut up already, this crap is getting old.

Whaddaya know, I think the angel is winning. I did my thirty minutes again today--that would be the fourth run in a row, thankyouverymuch--even though I was tired from waking up at 4:45 this morning (not on purpose), and tired from my workout with M. today, and hungry because I'm always hungry at this time of the month, and...insert all those annoying little reasons here. So many things that even a week ago would have stopped me ten minutes in. Somehow, I've found the strength in myself to shove those reasons aside and just...keep...running.

So yeah. This thirty minutes of non-stop running is going to be a regular thing. No question marks, no doubts. I'm finding that the more I do it, the less I mind doing it. As far as I'm concerned the little devil in my brain can go play in the traffic.

I Love My Friends

2011-12-27T20:06:00.000-08:00

And yes, third 30-minute run in a row. I can't wait to brag to M. the Reasonable tomorrow!

Breaking Through

2011-12-26T19:29:00.000-08:00

Thirty minutes isn't really a lot of time, when you think about it.

A thirty-minute commute isn't too bad. Thirty minutes for lunch seems way too short (ask any teacher). Getting to a movie theater thirty minutes before the movie starts is a good idea. We all, routinely, throw thirty minutes away without really even blinking.

But when told to run for thirty minutes by M. the Reasonable in November, my brain immediately said, "That's way too long."

Logically, I know that I am more than capable of running for thirty minutes without stopping, walking, dropping to the sidewalk in a twitching heap...but somewhere, in my brain, came this very loud voice saying, "You can't." And since I started working with M., I haven't. Oh, I've put in thirty minutes every day--I might run a ten-minute interval, walk for a few minutes, run for ten, walk, then run for ten more minutes to finish off. Sometimes I could get away with two fifteen-minute intervals. As long as I was pushing myself and completing the required amount of running, M. didn't seem to care how I went about it--much. The goal, of course, was to push towards a full thirty minutes of just running.

I got close. The day after my adventure with sciatica, I went out the very next day and ran 26 minutes before stopping. Close, but not quite that full thirty minutes. And since then, I've had more bad or mediocre running days than I've had great ones. A lot of intervals. More back problems forcing me to walk. Shin splints last week. I took a few days off at M.'s recommendation to use the cycle at the gym instead of running. I kept up with yoga. On Christmas Eve, I went out for a run...and I made it thirty whole minutes.

By about the twenty-sixth minute, I was gasping for air, dripping sweat, and wanting to stop. But I was also determined--I'd had a fantastic workout at the gym on Friday and was looking forward to bragging to M. today about it. I wanted to be able to add, "And I ran the full 30 minutes on Saturday!" So I pushed myself. And I made it.

I wrote in my food journal (I also keep track of my activity), "I am so a rock star!" M. saw that today, grinned at me and replied, "No. You are a rock legend."

After today's workout, in which he increased the weight I'm lifting on several exercises, I was tired. I drove home, sipping my protein smoothie (mixed berries, spinach, protein supplement, flax seed and green tea) and thinking, "Ugh. I don't really want to run."

But I went out there and started my walking warm-up (about 3/4 of a mile). I got to my normal start spot for the run and moved to turn the stopwatch on my iPod on. Then I had a thought--what if instead, I just run as far as I did on Saturday, without worrying about time? Whenever I use the stopwatch, I end up looking at it every thirty seconds, wishing I had less time. I drive myself bananas thinking, "Ugh, only 12 minutes done?" So I didn't time myself today and instead just got lost in my running music. I pushed myself through the difficult parts of my run--the little uphill bits, the parts where my breathing is especially labored and my legs especially tired. And what do you know, I made it to the same place I ran to on Saturday--and even pushed myself a little further, just to make sure I'd run a full half hour.

So that's two awesome runs in a row. I feel really good about it, and like I can keep this trend going. There's a local 5K I want to run at the end of January. Here's hoping I continue to have no back pain (I'm stretching regularly and using my foam roller for that), and that I can keep sailing over the mental hurdle that holds me back. I hope to get faster (I'm averaging an 11:30 mile, and while speed doesn't really matter as much as just getting out there and having some endurance, I want a faster average time). I hope to enjoy running a little more--today wasn't so bad.

When I think back to the earliest days, when I was convinced I'd never be a runner, I look at how far I've come and I'm proud.

Christmas At the Cooper's

2011-12-24T20:34:00.000-08:00

I've been taking a lot of random pictures yesterday and today, and thought I'd share them here. I hope everyone is having a very happy holiday, filled with family and good cheer. Ours here has been quiet. I ran for thirty straight minutes this morning--no walking, no stopping, no intervals, just thirty straight minutes of running. After that, I've just stayed at home, playing around on my Kindle, helping Mom make our lovely Christmas Eve dinner, and enjoying some quiet time with Mom and Dad.

Without further ado, here are my pictures...

Yes, I bought a dumbbell ornament at the gym!

I also bought this one this year. Too cute!

One of my favorite Hallmark ornaments. Push the button and it
does the trombone "wah-wah" teacher voice!

My ridiculous tree on the kitchen table.

"Harassing the tree? Me? Never! If you're going to
accuse me, I'm going to have to call my apurrrney."

Mom's magazine-worthy tree.

The official White House ornament--given to Mom and Dad by some
friends.

Last night, Santa Swimmy (yes, I bought a Santa duck) and I watched
"A Charlie Brown Christmas."

People assume I watch this every year, but in fact, it had been a few years
since I last watched. This is my favorite part. : )

A Christmas gift from Dad--his interview for the
Veteran's History Project on DVD. There is a copy of
this interview in the Library of Congress.

Millie and Duchess sharing the bed and some Christmas cheer.

Yummy! Pumpkin pie...

There's a Swimmy in the tree!

It's often impossible to get a clear pic of my constantly-moving cat.

Harley reacts to learning that Santa Paws will be leaving him dog food
in his stocking for unrolling the toilet paper two days in a row this week
and harassing Bella.

Cheers! Mom and I had some sparkling wine.

Bella and Duchess enjoying some sister time.

Me and my girl...

Dinner. I have printed this picture to show M. the Reasonable on Monday
that I, too, can be reasonable when it comes to eating holiday dinner!

Pumpkin soup.

Sweet Spot Sweeties

I got up to help Mom serve up the pumpkin pie...didn't take him long to
move right on in.

We wish you a Swimmy Christmas and a Happy New Year.

I hope you are enjoying your Christmas Eve as much as I am! Merry Christmas, friends!

A Christmas Poem For Runners

2011-12-24T08:15:00.000-08:00

'Twas the day before Christmas
And all through Lincoln
People were eating,
Making merry and drinkin'.

But I had a goal
And it couldn't have been plainer
As I pulled on my socks
And laced up my trainers.

While everyone,
Warm in their homes, had some fun
I plugged in my iPod
And went for a run.

My muscles protested
(They usually do)
And my brain thought of
All yummy holiday foods.

"On quadriceps, hamstrings!
On calves and Achilles!"
I shouted, "No shin splits!
Just run, if you please!"

First left foot, then right foot
My arms started swinging
The sweat dripped down
And my clothes started clinging.

While others stayed inside
Watching the telly
I pounded the pavement
'Til my legs turned to jelly.

Then finally I had
Reached the day's goal
I'm a good girl, Santa
So for me, no coal!

So for all the good runners
Who do this for fun...

Merry Christmas to all
And to all, a good run!

It's A SHOE

2011-12-23T17:54:00.000-08:00

A month ago, I spent $120 on a pair of shoes.

The shoes are, of course, special running shoes, and I wear them every day for running, walking, and working out at the gym. In a few months, I'll need another pair as I notice the support fading away when I run. In every way, these shoes are an investment in my health and well-being.

Maybe I shouldn't judge...oh, to hell with it, Judgey McJudgerson here is going to judge the crap out of the nincompoops in the news today. People are getting violent and unruly over the latest Air Jordan shoe. A SHOE. Gunshots, muggings, near-riots as mall personnel stare, wide-eyed with fear at the frothing-at-the-mouth masses pushing into the stores. Over an extremely ugly shoe that is distantly endorsed by a former NBA legend...and also, according to my trainer, not a great athletic shoe to begin with.

But then, no one who rushed out, or who fought over, these shoes is really looking to land more jump shots or whatever it is basketball wannabes want to do--if they wanted that, they'd be on the court in their ratty old sneakers, practicing endless jump shots. No, what people want is the status of walking down the street with a shiny new pair of the latest Air Jordans on their feet--the envy of all in the neighborhood.

With tomorrow being Christmas Eve, it makes me a little bit bitter to think that this is where American priorities lie. Having spent a little time this week shopping, seeing people with shopping carts overflowing with stuff, stuff and more stuff, it's made me so grateful that my family doesn't really go in on the whole buy-buy-OMG BUY!!! mentality of the season anymore. Dad asked for no presents (so I have offered to archive some of his military documents and certificates in a scrapbook for safekeeping as my gift to him) and his big Christmas gesture this year was to go shopping at the base commissary for toilet paper, tissue, and food staples to give to a local rehabilitation home for women in our community. They were overjoyed to get the donation, and Dad felt good giving it. I bought a tiny little something for my niece and nephew, and a little something for my Mom.

I hope the people who pushed, shoved, and created chaos enjoy their shoes.

Ennui

2011-12-22T17:52:00.000-08:00

"Well if you're bored then you're boring..."

Harvey Danger, "Flagpole Sitta"

The last couple of days, I've been...bored. Well, that's not entirely true. But then, neither is "lazy," or "listless," or "out of sorts." I'm in a perfectly pleasant mood, and quite happy with how things are going in life right now. But when I'm at home, I've been prone to feeling sleepy (that could just be all the working out) and wanting to go to bed at 8:00 each night.

I'm not sick. I'm not depressed. Just, perhaps, needing a little adventure. So I haven't been blogging, and I haven't even been feeling very "Yay, Christmas!!" either...not as I normally do, anyway.

It's the funniest thing, because really, everything is going very nicely right now. I've lost eight pounds, found a great outfit for New Year's (my friend Meghan and I are going to celebrate the British New Year at 4:00 because she has to work the night shift at the hospital that night), and I've been quite productive in my working out and job hunting, etc.

The weather has been sun-sun-sunny, so it's not Seasonal Affective Disorder. And I wouldn't even call it sadness--I'm just...bored. And suffering from Blogger's Block.

With all this in mind, I think I'll find something to do tomorrow--perhaps, after my workout in the morning (my weekly assignment from M. the Still Very Reasonable), I'll drive to Sacramento and wander around, or explore some area I haven't explored yet. Take my camera and find more good signs. Take Cali Swimmy and have some fun with him. Anything to break out of this work out-come home-shower-sit around wondering, "what's next?" routine I've been in all week.

2011 In Pictures

2011-12-18T18:20:00.000-08:00

I'm a little early posting this this year, but what the heck.

Last year, I got the idea to use Windows Movie Maker to consolidate my favorite pictures from 2010, instead of making a big, long blog post. I think that will be my tradition from now on--it's easy enough to do, and this year, I took some time to add captions in just the right places and make it a little special.

When I finished uploading the pictures I wanted to use into Movie Maker, I found that...ooops...the video was almost ten minutes long! I thought about making it last that long and using two songs, but figured most of you wouldn't really want to sit through that.

I had to weed out some pictures, but I left in my very favorites--some are favorites for artistic merit and some because of the people in them, and the happy memories. I had a lot of mini-adventures this year, and I always, always had my Nikon along for the ride (and a certain little duck, of course).

So without further ado, I present my favorite pictures of 2011. Almost all of them are mine, except for three or so that were taken by Maayan when she visited in April.

Enjoy, and thanks for watching!

Victorian Christmas

2011-12-18T16:22:00.000-08:00

It's been ages since Mom, Dad and I have been on a day trip, and Dad mentioned a few days ago that he would like to try to get out a bit over the next few weeks. I'm always game, so today we hopped in the van and drove to Grass Valley and Nevada City to have a look around. Nevada City's historic district was closed off for a Victorian Christmas celebration, so we stopped to have a look around.

As ever, I'll let my pictures speak for themselves!

Fabulous theater in Grass Valley

I love these old Gold Rush era buildings.

Would've been a better picture without the Jeep. Oh, well.


Between Grass Valley and Nevada City. Never heard of a road linking Idaho and Maryland...

The local firemen were selling burgers out of the old
firehouse.

It was quite crowded.

Nothing says "Victorian Christmas" like a person in a
red-nosed squirrel costume.

For all the people running around in fabulous Victorian costumes, I didn't get any great pics. I was mostly focusing on buildings and signs, anyway.

It was a lovely day--sunny, not at all cold (I was in a light sweater and scarf and perfectly comfortable). We had lunch and now we're cozy and comfy at home. Another busy week starts tomorrow, leading up to Christmas.

Pictures and Stuff

2011-12-16T18:19:00.000-08:00

Whew, another busy week!

I feel like the last couple of weeks have been GO-GO-GO!! and now I'm finally seeing more time to relax. Yesterday I spent most of the afternoon watching a movie, lounging on my bed, playing Angry Birds on my new Kindle. I just needed to slow down for a day after all the choir concerts, back pain, training, running, family stuff, etc.

Speaking of training, it's going very well. My back is pretty much back to normal, and I finally bought a foam roller today so I can use it at home--every day. M. the Reasonable has me doing some assigned stretches that help me loosen my back and hips, and I'm also working on my legs (I think the source of last week's lower back pain was actually my super-tight calves and hamstrings, believe it or not). Today I did my solo workout--a series of only four exercises (a row, a squat, a push-up, and a "push car"), but I had to do five sets of 20 reps each, and time myself. I will do this every Friday for the next few weeks and try to improve my time each week. I have to start when I start the first row, and let the stopwatch go until I complete the last step of push cars (this is the one where I power the treadmill with my feet, rather than good ole electricity). Today, I did it all in 25 minutes, 21 seconds, with a slight delay when one guy continually pestered me for the Cybex machine I was using. I finally let him have it while rolling my eyes and muttering, "Impatient, much?" under my breath.

Anyway, my hard work is paying off. I was down another couple of pounds today. The scale settled on 165.8, which is a grand total of almost 8 pounds in one month. Not bad, not bad. Especially considering the recent back pain and the affect it had on my running.

In other news, I've got a few random pics to share, so I'll get on that and then sign off. I see some relaxing in my immediate future!

There I am (not the most flattering shot, but this was on Friday when
my back was at its worst) with Mom, Dad, and my brother, Aaron.

Santa!!! Actually, it's Dad, dressed up for a luncheon
he was attending.

Who needs a sleigh, anyway?

This pic is NOT mine--it was taken by Ronnie Johnson, but I wanted to
share it here. There's one of my fellow singers in his traditional elf ears.

Who is that lady in the green scarf behind the clarinets?
(Pic: Ronnie Johnson)


Why, it's ME! (Pic: Ronnie Johnson)

Pictures Of Sacramento

2011-12-14T18:39:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I went to Sacramento to attend a job fair. It was a small one, but worth going, I suppose.

While down there, I took a few random pictures, including a few of Occupy Sacramento. Whatever you think of the Occupy movement, you have to admire their commitment to their cause. I'm sort of in the middle--I'm not entirely sure I agree with everything they're about, but I certainly think they have a First Amendment right to peaceful protest and some of the actions taken against the various occupy movements have been atrocious. Our right to free speech must be protected!

Anyway, enough about that. Sacramento was looking lovely on a crisp late fall day.

From the parking garage.

Another from the parking garage (I had to park on the 5th floor).

Along J Street

The Masonic Hall where the job fair was held.

A peek at the capitol building.

Cesar Chavez Park

Occupy headquarters--there was one man there. I guess they work in shifts.

The trees, the way the light is falling, the building in the background...I quite
like this shot.

An Update From the Gymbo

2011-12-14T18:14:00.000-08:00

Well, for starters, my back is much better. So much better.

I was still sore and a bit twisty on Monday morning when I met with M. the Reasonable, so we started with our standard stretching, in which I lie on the mat feeling fifteen different kinds of broken and he helps me stretch out my incredibly tight leg muscles. I've decided to stop feeling embarrassed about my complete lack of flexibility and just accept his help because stretching actually feels good and, you know, it helps the back pain go away.

One thing I got out of my crazy-busy weekend was that my legs--calves, quads, hamstrings--were super-tight and it occurred to me, with everything being connected, that this is what caused my back pain, rather than an actual back injury.

Anyway, after stretching and working out with M. on Monday I attempted a run and found that my legs were still a bit pissy with me. Every time my foot hit the ground, a spasm would descend from my hip, down my thigh. I ended up walking and grumbling a lot. (To M. today: "You know, for someone who doesn't like running, I really get frustrated when my body won't let me do it.")

But then, yesterday, things got even better. I ran in short intervals, but the point is, I ran. I was so happy that I almost forgot that I actually hate running.

Today, I met with my rock star trainer again, and he was very pleased to hear that the pain is gone and I'm running again. Still, we started our session with our usual stretching (nothing like lying on the floor with one knee stretched up over your chest and your trainer using his chest to help you deepen the stretch--how we must look!) before getting down to a good workout.

We've reached that comfortable stage where we can talk and laugh while I'm exercising. Today:

"So, am I still M. the Reasonable on your blog?"

"Yep!"

"Oh, good!"

"Well, sometimes you're M. the Rock Star because of all the help you've given me with my back."

While he is nowhere near as cocky as G. the Meanie was, he still liked that one. I told him how, after I stopped working with G., I sent him the blog post in which I revealed that over the months I'd worked with him, I'd referred to him as "the little shit" and other not-so-nice names when I was mad at him.

This led to us discussing comparisons between him and G., and how the biggest difference is me and the attitude I'm bringing to the table. "You have a great attitude!" M. told me. "I wish I could transfer some of your attitude about working out to my other clients." It was a nice compliment--while I had a fighting spirit and a never-quit approach to working out with G., I wouldn't say that I necessarily had a great attitude. As I pointed out to M. today, I had a big hill I had to get over in those days, and now, no matter what he throws at me, I know I can do it.

So it's going well. I have a stretching assignment to do at home twice a day, and I'm planning to go back to yoga tomorrow (Sunday was too hectic, and I overslept yesterday). I'm getting right back to my old Gymbo ways, and it feels good.

You know I'm a gymbo when I actually miss running.

Fa La La La...Eeeeeee....

2011-12-11T11:48:00.000-08:00

What a weekend it's been...and it's not over yet!

For starters, my brother visited last week--he came in Wednesday evening and left yesterday morning. It was good to see Aaron and catch up. We even got to have dinner, just the two of us, on Thursday night. We mostly keep in touch by post card these days--he collects them and loves getting them from the various adventures I go on.

Then, of course, came the back pain. I spent much of Friday afternoon walking around with a slight hunch in my back from that. In the evening, the family went to dinner, then I departed for Sacramento and a two-and-a-half-hour choir rehearsal.

Yesterday, I woke up early to help see Aaron off, had an hour-long walk, then did a few things here at home before leaving, at about 2:00, for Davis. Davis is about 40 miles from Lincoln, so it would be hours and hours before I returned. We had another two-and-a-half hour rehearsal with the orchestra, followed by a dinner break, and then our first of two "Home For the Holidays" concerts. A lot of standing, a lot of singing.

My back held up pretty well. I stretched whenever I had the chance and tried to do whatever my body seemed to need as I could, whether walking around or sitting. The diciest moment came at the very beginning of a very quiet, very beautiful piece called "Infant Holy, Infant Lowly," when I had a small muscle spasm in my lower back/upper glute/hip area and stood there lip-synching for a few bars, one foot off the ground and my eyebrows raised in perpetual "engaged singing face" mode. I sincerely hope I wasn't grimacing there in the front row.

But overall, everything went well--it was a gorgeous concert and I had a gorgeous moment at one point when it occurred to me that despite my physical discomfort, I was really in the moment musically and having a wonderful time making music with this huge group of singers and instrumentalists. It took some of the focus away from my back.

Of course, by the end of the concert, I was nearly drooping in exhaustion. I made it back to Lincoln at about 11:00, had a shower and a cup of tea, then passed out at about midnight.

This morning, I've finished some grading for a friend and now I'm just off to shower in a few minutes so I can drive back to Davis and do it again--just the concert this time, no rehearsal beforehand (thank God!!). Mom and Dad are going to this concert, so we'll all just drive together, saving me from being behind the wheel. Divine.

I'll close this off with a pic from last night. I call it "A Lady, A Choir Dress, and a Lucky Rubber Ducky."

The BEST thing about SCSO? We get to be festive for our holiday concert!
Everyone else wore red, so I decided to be different in green.

Not Weak

2011-12-10T12:55:00.000-08:00

I couldn't run this morning.

Gah, how I tried. I gave it a go for a couple of minutes, and my body just protested every step. Even after a long walking warm-up and some stretching, my legs were tight and my back was unhappy. So I settled for an hour of walking instead of my usual thirty-minute run.

Whaddaya gonna do?

All that walking gave me some time to think, and at first, my thoughts veered towards my frustration and anxiety about the back pain I've been having. It feels like a weakness, having an injury, and in my training so far, I've never had this kind of setback. I keep thinking that maybe M. the Reasonable will think I'm not upholding my end of this training deal.

But as I kept walking, it occurred to me that I am lucky. In almost three years of working with trainers, I've never been injured before now. Sure, there's been soreness and the war wound I got dropping a 25-pound weight only to have it ricochet off my ankle, but there has been nothing that has set me back physically--only mentally. I've powered through all of those mental blocks as I've met them, but powering through a physical injury isn't possible--I have to work with my body, and my body is calling all the shots right now.

It's unbelievably frustrating.

Anyway, as I walked, I thought back to my Wednesday appointment with M. and how he told me of a shoulder injury he's been dealing with for a while now. He also recently had some foot issues after running a 10K. Here's a guy who trains for a living, who is in terrific shape, also having injuries. It makes me feel better to know that I'm actually quite normal having some back pain. I'm not weak; I'm strong...I'm just having a setback. I don't particularly need a setback right now, but I have to deal with these things as they come, and I can. And my trainer won't see me as weak--he just wants to help me get better.

So I stretch. And I walk. I eat well, stretch some more, and take extra-long hot showers because damn, my back loves those. When my body lets me, I run. I do the exercises I can, and follow M.'s advice (except for his advice to not buy Angry Birds on my new Kindle, but that's another story for another blog post...as soon as I've completed level 4). Maybe I whine a little here and there, but then I tell myself to shut up...and stretch again.

I'm so much stronger than I give myself credit for.

Baby Got Back...Pain

2011-12-09T14:49:00.000-08:00

AGAIN.

After my adventure with sciatica a couple of weeks ago, things started looking up, and I've been back to my mostly-normal self. Then, today, after warming up (walking on the treadmill) and doing a few standard stretches that my body is used to by now, my lower back started to hurt again. It felt like something that could turn into sciatica, so after a few more minutes walking the treadmill, I found M. the Reasonable (maybe I'll change that to M. the Rock Star) and told him. Bless him--this is where he proves he's a rock star--he spent a few minutes helping me stretch. This helped a lot, so I carefully completed some of my assigned workout, doing three sets of 15 push-ups, pull-ups and back-step lunges. I was slow and deliberate, and while my back was a wee bit sore, I completed all three sets with no drama.

I did ten more minutes on the treadmill because walking really seems to help, then decided that was enough for now (M. had told me to complete my workout as I can, not all in one go). I got in my car--carefully--and drove to the grocery store on my way home. Where I proceeded to walk around stiffly, with my hand on my back, grumpily wishing everyone else in the store would just get out of my way. By the time I got home, my back was hurting again.

I don't know what I did--I'm so frustrated with my body and wishing I could figure out how to make it better. M. told me to keep stretching at home, and I suppose I'll do a lot of walking, too. I've given up on the idea of even trying to run today, and hope tomorrow I'll be able to go out and pound the pavement. In the meantime, I've got ice on my back and a lot of ibuprofen in my system...oh, and a two-and-a-half hour choir rehearsal I have to get through tonight...and two concerts this weekend. And a drive to Davis for both of those concerts tomorrow and Sunday.

My timing is impeccable.

So keep your fingers crossed that I figure out what's going on and start getting stronger soon. In all the time I've trained over the last three years, I've never been injured--how lucky is that? I guess it was bound to happen sometime, so let's just hope my body heals quickly, because this really, really sucks.

Vocal Point

2011-12-09T08:34:00.000-08:00

This is the last post related to "The Sing-Off" that I want to do...but I couldn't not feature the fifth-place group, Vocal Point.

In the first episode, when I first "met" them, I was surprised to learn they were from Brigham Young University in Utah--in other words, a group of nine Mormon guys. How in the world would they fit in this show? Well, it turns out the show is family-friendly, and also, these guys are not afraid to have fun on stage. They had me from their first performance (and their dramatic side-story of poor Ben, who had to miss the first few weeks because of his father's illness and death).

Their Elvis medley was a lot of fun:

And I loved their "You've Really Got Me Going" by the Kinks:

Their arrangement of "Life Is A Highway" on country night was fantastic (love the ignition at the beginning).

In the end, Vocal Point wasn't quite as strong as some of the other groups, but they were always fun to watch and listen to, and they maintained the same sense of humility and class all of the other groups.

So, thank you, Summer, for getting me hooked on "The Sing-Off!" Can't wait for another season!

The Technophobe Meets the Kindle

2011-12-06T21:11:00.000-08:00

A couple of months ago, I was looking for something-or-other on Amazon when I noticed some big brouhaha about the new Kindle Fire.

I am notoriously un-tech-savvy. I didn't get an iPod until 2006 (but note, when I did, I loved it as much as the next person and now can't live with out it, especially when running). I still use a desktop computer, because the flat laptop keyboards drive me insane. My cell phone is not smart. It's average. According to some of my previous students, it was a "cool" phone, but I wouldn't know (it's an LG Shine. I just liked it 'cause unlike my last phone, it doesn't randomly dial numbers in my pocket). I've broken the battery compartments on not one but two Nikon Coolpix cameras this year (but that's more clumsiness than not being tech-savvy).

I am just not the lady with the latest toys. Until today.

Like I mentioned...I noticed the ads for the new Kindle Fire and I thought it looked kinda cool. "Hmm," I thought to myself, sticking the gadget on my Wish List, "Maybe I can swing $199 for one of those puppies in a few months."

A week or two ago, Mom and Dad were talking about them, and asked if I might like to have one as a Christmas present. I said, "Sure!" and we left it at that. Then today, Mom and Dad went grocery shopping. Grocery shopping! They came home with two new Kindle Fires, one for Mom, one for me.

The verdict?

I flippin' LOVE it. It's so easy to use (though we had some angst getting it connected to our Wi-Fi because Dad couldn't find the password but it's all good now) and I've already bought a book and some apps. I will never give up paper books completely--I can't see myself curling up with the Kindle at bedtime, really--but for trips it will be awesome because I can read, watch TV shows and movies I've streamed off of Amazon, and play around on the Internet, even. Seriously, I will never again painstakingly update my Facebook status from my intrepid little LG Shine, because my Kindle makes that so much easier.

For once, this technophobe has the COOL toy!

Six Pounds and Brussels Sprouts

2011-12-05T23:17:00.000-08:00

Six pounds lost in three weeks working with M. the Reasonable. Not bad for having awakened this morning feeling bloated and slightly nauseous from those Brussels sprouts I ate last night...

So we're averaging two pounds a week, which is fantastic. My goal of being 159 by New Year's is right on track, provided I'm able to stay away from holiday temptations. I had some dark chocolate on Saturday, and even M. thinks it is more than okay to indulge in dark chocolate now and then (he so earned his nickname, this one).

Today was a good workout. We met later than usual, which threw off my normal routine, but I kept up and did my best on the exercises. For my push-up exercise today, instead of bracing on a stable bar, I was holding the handles for a pull-down machine--quite a bit more wobbly than I'm used to. "So you're taking the training wheels off, then?" I asked.

"Yes."

I just shrugged. "Bring it on."

I didn't even whine (much) through the Burpees he made me do today. We talked about a book I'm reading after he mentioned it last week (it's called Born To Run and it's fascinating, informative, and not about Bruce Springsteen) and how it's changing my outlook on running overall, but also form and just how necessary fancy-schmancy running shoes are. He's mentioned plans to eventually run with me so he can get a look at my stride, my impact, and possibly help me find a way to make running even better for me. There's a whole blog post coming as soon as I finish the book.

As for the Brussels sprouts. Gah, I'm still shuddering. It started a few weeks ago, when Mom bought a new magazine. On the front was this wonderful-looking dish containing Brussels sprouts, grapes, and walnuts. I found the recipe and it was so healthy and it looked delicious. Suddenly, I couldn't wait to try it. Yesterday, I excitedly bought some Brussels sprouts and got to work. I oven-roasted the sprouts and grapes in olive oil with fresh thyme, adding the toasted walnuts at the very end. It was supposed to be marvelous...and it was merely "meh." The grapes lost their rich color and got really bloated, and the sprouts just couldn't be anything but boring. I ate a serving, but I wasn't all that excited. The rest, I tucked in the fridge and figured I'd either warm up to them the second time or foist them off on Mom and Dad.

This morning, I woke up and my first conscious thought was of the container of sprouts and grapes in the fridge--and my first conscious feeling was queasiness and this sudden complete distaste for Brussels sprouts in any shape or form. I think I've ruined them for myself--not that they were my favorite vegetable or anything. In the past, I've mostly just tolerated them.

Later this morning, I dumped the whole lot of sprouts and grapes in the trash. Their very presence in the fridge was making me feel slightly ill.

I've more to blog about--I went to Lodi on Saturday to see Stockton Chorale sing (marvelous) and I've got SCSO stuff coming out of my ears this week. My brother is visiting, too. But for now, it's after 11:00 and I really must get to bed if I'm going to haul my gymbo self off to yoga tomorrow morning.

Pentatonix

2011-12-04T08:49:00.000-08:00

A week ago, I wrote a post about the Dartmouth Aires, the runner-up group on NBC's "The Sing-Off." They were runners up to this group, Pentatonix, and it's really no surprise that Pentatonix won it. All season, they brought an incredible sound to the stage with only five voices.

They started out really strong:

But they stayed under my radar until this performance of "Video Killed the Radio Star."

From there, I continued to take notice of them, and it was almost as though they could do no wrong--they were consistently in the pocket. Their bass, Avi, and their beat-boxer, Kevin, were their strongest components, and that's saying something when you listen to Scott, Kirstie and Mitch singing beautifully and in tune.

Let me just add here that Scott, Kirstie and Mitch are all nineteen years old. What am I doing with my life?!

While their strength was always contemporary pop and electronic music styles, they proved they could do amazing arrangements of other genres, for example, old-school R&B, or country:

This group went from strength to strength to strength all season long, and I couldn't help but cry along with Kirstie when they were revealed as the winners of the whole competition. I hope they have a long and successful career ahead of them.

The Back

2011-12-02T20:47:00.000-08:00

Well, I'm pleased to report that since Wednesday's adventure with sciatica, things are looking up. I was sore the rest of the day, but that was to be expected. I woke up yesterday feeling pretty good, and I had a fantastic run (26 minutes without stopping, go me!!) that made me loosen up and feel even better. The rest of the day I felt fine except for occasional twinges in my beleaguered nerve that had me gasping in fear and then relaxing as a mere two seconds later, they subsided.

Today, things are even better, though I didn't have such a great run. I claim exhaustion--I worked out at the gym on my own this morning, doing many of the exercises M. the Reasonable has shown me recently: elevated push-ups, hanging rows, step-back lunges, sideways lunges with a 10-pound medicine ball. M. made a point of checking up on me to see how my back was. He was delighted yesterday when I texted him that I was feeling much better, but he's still concerned about ongoing issues, as am I. Still, I completed all of my exercises today without pain, and M. even took some of his own personal workout time (off the clock) to help me stretch again, which was very nice of him.

So tomorrow, I run again, and on Sunday, I get a day off from pounding the pavement. I don't want to be completely lazy, so I'm planning to go to another yoga class at the gym. We both agreed today that getting more stretching in my life isn't a bad thing.

On Monday, it's back to working with M....and also our monthly weigh-in and measurement-taking. I was weighed yesterday at Planned Parenthood and I was two pounds down. I was disappointed until I figured out that hey, they weighed me wearing jeans and boots, whereas when I weigh at the gym, I'm in running leggings and no shoes. Plus, I had pasta for dinner on Wednesday night.

So I'm hoping I'll be below 170 on Monday, though Auntie Flo is on her way and she does have an annoying tendency to turn me into a camel each month...even G. never bothered weighing me when I said the magic words ("I have my period.").

The most important thing is that I feel good--my muscles are starting to come back to form. Today in the shower I leaned down to soap up one calf (my foot was propped on the edge of the tub) and nearly swooned in delight at my own muscles. I even discovered tonight that under my belly fat are some pretty nice little ab muscles coming into their own. Mom notices a difference in my overall silhouette, and I know that the number on the scale is really only a superficial indicator of how I'm doing.

I'm enjoying working with a trainer again--I think I need the interaction and guidance sometimes. And M. knows what he's doing and has been really great about helping me through the back issues this week. I think once the nerve recovers from it's recent pinching (I'm pretty sure it was a muscle spasm that caused all this, but then, I'm not a doctor, nor have I talked to any about this), I'll be back on form and I look forward to kicking some more ass at the gym. Namely, my own.

A Visit To Planned Parenthood

2011-12-02T09:19:00.000-08:00

Editor's note: This blog is a little more TMI than my usual fare, but I've left out the goriest details.

When my job ended in May 2010, so, of course, did my medical benefits. I am among the many people in this country who cannot afford health insurance. I am also among the many who are ineligible for Medi-Cal, because my income is "too large" (because living off of $1,800 a month is so easy when you're single).

For a while now, I've been wanting to make an appointment at Planned Parenthood for my annual physical and to talk about options for getting on the pill. The pill regulates my periods and keeps the monthly acne breakouts at bay, and I miss being on it. I finally got proactive this week and called to make an appointment.

I arrived at the Roseville Planned Parenthood yesterday, about half an hour before my appointment was scheduled. I had no idea what to expect--would they be brusque and all-business? After all, Planned Parenthood is a busy place. Would they help me with the forms I had to fill out?

From the moment I walked in, the ladies at the registration desk were all smiles and friendliness. I was given a medical history form and a couple of forms that asked about my ability to pay, my current financial and living situation, and, of course, questions about my sexual history and if there is any current abuse happening in my life. After last year's emergency room adventure, I was not expecting to be eligible for any kind of assistance, but I filled out the forms anyway, just in case.

Right at the time of my appointment, I was called back by a nurse, who did the standard weighing, blood pressure taking, and questions about medical history. She was very friendly, and even though she seemed to be bustling around an busy, she was happy to talk to me and make me feel at ease.

Imagine my total surprise when she handed me a small plastic card and told me that I am eligible for state assistance that covers the cost of my pap smear and some of my birth control! Having been denied Medi-Cal, and stuck with paying off that $2,500 hospital bill from last year, I could have cried when I learned that all they were asking from me yesterday was a donation, if I could afford it. There was never any pressure to give.

Next came the nerve-wracking part involving taking all of my clothes off and putting on a paper gown and lap drape. I've yet to meet any woman who feels totally comfortable at an appointment with the gynecologist! I waited a few minutes and before long, the doctor knocked on the door and came in.

We started with the standard health questions, and for my reasons for being there that day, my history with the pill, etc. At first I thought she might be a bit brusque but within five minutes, the doctor turned away from the computer, smiled at me, and proved to be as nice and friendly as everyone else I'd dealt with so far. I was immediately more at ease.

The good news is that everything looks and feels healthy and of course, I bragged to her about my weight loss and fitness victories in the last two years, which she agreed must be a huge part of my overall health and freedom from major anxiety. Finally, I was getting dressed again and wondering what where I would have to go to get my pills.

As soon as I stepped outside, my question was answered. The nurse was back, with a small paper bag. I walked out with a three month supply and thorough instructions about when to start and how to use it. After settling my account (I made a donation because I had set aside some money in anticipation of having to pay for everything already and I fully believe in Planned Parenthood's mission to promote women's health and provide essential services) I left the office, amazed at how smoothly everything had run--I never had any major complaints about Kaiser, but my experiences there were never so easy as this one, either. Every person I encountered in Planned Parenthood was friendly--and this is so important for putting someone at ease. Any medical appointment comes with a little bit of anxiety and stress, but especially one that involves being naked. It's an extremely vulnerable position to be in, and everyone there seemed well-trained in making the whole deal less awkward.

I follow Planned Parenthood on Facebook and Twitter--in the last several months, some major attacks against this organization have been launched, and it breaks my heart to think that Planned Parenthood has to spend so much time and energy on fighting for their organization. It takes away from their most important mission--to promote healthy women and families. It's not about abortion, it's not even about birth control. It's about protecting people from health problems ranging from STIs to cancer. It's about helping women who are not in a position to help themselves--whether they are living in deep poverty, or are in an abusive situation, or, like me, between jobs and just need some help keeping up with their health.

Will I continue to support Planned Parenthood? Absolutely.

The Adventure Continues

2011-11-30T13:38:00.000-08:00

So far, my training with M. the Reasonable has been smooth sailing. He makes me work, yes, but really, after the exertion comes this wonderful feeling of accomplishment and endorphin high, so I hardly mind. And, as mentioned before, he's so reasonable. It's really been a good match for me, trainer-wise, and I'm already feeling my muscles respond again. I know I've lost weight (though we haven't weighed since my first appointment) and I feel really good.

Then, today, my body let me down.

I arrived at the gym early, as usual, to warm up on the StairMaster and do some stretching. Everything was going well, and I was feeling great...until my back started to twinge. Recognizing the same twinge that cause me some grief in October, I stopped stretching, stood up and started walking back to the locker room. My back hurt a little, but I wasn't overly concerned. I was to meet with M. in a few minutes and figured he'd be fine with helping me stretch and limber up before we attempted anything more difficult.

I made a stop in the ladies room (tea with breakfast and all that), and once I sat down, the real trouble began. Pain started shooting down my right hip and leg. I was breathing heavily. Standing up again once I'd finished was excruciating, and it took at least a minute for me to be able to pull my pants back up. I was leaning on the partition, taking deep breaths. My stomach started to feel queasy and I was sweating profusely. My right foot couldn't touch the floor without shooting more pain up and down my leg.

The last time I had sciatica was in 2007, when I was at my heaviest--it's one of the things that prompted me to resume my gym membership, and, two years later, get a trainer. I've always been glad not to have it again, and I assumed--wrongly, it turns out--that being lighter and more in shape would mean I wouldn't get sciatica anymore.

I managed, somehow, to limp into the main part of the locker room and wash up, then grab my things and limp out to the front area where I was to meet with M. Sweat was dripping down my face. Another trainer saw me and said, "Hard workout?" I said, "No. Pain...sciatica." She was very nice to me and actually stood and talked to me until M. was finished with the client before me (I think she might have been afraid I would collapse or something, the way I was gripping the partition by the trainers' desks). When he came over, it was all I could do to tell him, between clenched teeth, "I'm in a lot of pain...sciatica." Immediately concerned, he said, "We're stretching," and led me over to the stretching mats.

We started with me on my back, with M. gently helping me move my legs and stretch. The more we worked, the less I could feel the pain shooting down my leg. The stretching started to work and my muscles, instead of seizing, relaxed and took the pressure off the sciatic nerve. Still, my back was sore and I was moving slowly. M. assured me this was normal and okay.

After working on the floor, he had me sit on a bench and put my right ankle up on my left knee. Then I was to lean forward and put pressure on my right knee to press down and stretch the hip and glutes. I was having trouble holding this, so he had me grab his hands so he could pull me forward. To help push down on my knee, he put his leg across mine. I was sitting there thinking about how absurd we must look, and also, oh, man, this stretch actually feels really good, when M. laughed and said, "People are probably thinking, 'What is he doing to her?'"

"I don't care how we look or what they're thinking...this is helping me!" But we both laughed and acknowledged that yes, we must look ridiculous.

The rest of my hour with him was spent doing easy weight-bearing exercises that required no sitting. I did some squats holding onto handles so I could easily pull back up, which is not something I normally need. M. was just glad to be able to help me, and also that I didn't try to push through it. He has clients, I guess, who think it is a sign of weakness to admit they're in pain, and they therefore injure themselves even worse. I told him I'm not ever going to do that--I'm so paranoid about injuring my knees and back that I will always stop and double check before proceeding.

Today I found myself in a very vulnerable position--flat on the floor, in pain, feeling frustrated and let down by my body. It's not an easy place for me to be, especially in front of someone else. It's not the first time I've been vulnerable in a training session--throwing up while running with G., or that time I fell in front of him--but it's the first time I've felt so exposed in front of M. He was fantastic. ("Oh, G. used to tell me, 'Hey, you'll have something to blog about tonight...' all the time." This got a big laugh and, "Hey, you'll have something to blog about tonight, too!") I tend to use humor as a way to make myself feel more comfortable, and he played right along with me today, all while actually physically helping me, too.

So now I'm sore--I've been given orders to not run today and attempt my run tomorrow after sending him a text message in the morning letting him know how I feel. If the shooting pain returns, he might even try to get me back to the gym tomorrow for more stretching. My hope is that this won't be necessary. For now, my back is sore, but my sciatic nerve is not under pressure (knock on wood). I will continue the gentle stretching today and I might even go for a slow walk later because I'm noticing that walking eases the soreness while sitting makes it worse.

"Today, you can call me M. the Helpful!" was my trainer's suggestion at one point in our workout. I just laughed and replied, "More like M. the Life-Saver!" If I have to have sciatica...isn't it lucky he was around to help me?

The Dartmouth Aires

2011-11-29T21:40:00.000-08:00

Summer got me hooked on NBC's "The Sing-Off" a couple of months ago. I've been recording it every Monday evenings while I'm at choir and eagerly looking forward to watching it on Tuesday so we could rehash the performances and share our thoughts.

"The Sing-Off" is a talent competition for a capella singing groups. Everything they do is completely without instrumental accompaniment, so the percussion you hear is entirely vocal (it's called beat-boxing).

The finale was last night, and while I was not surprised the Aires (featured in this post) came in 2nd to Pentatonix, I thought they were wonderful all season.

They had me with their first performance:

But it was their Queen Medley a few weeks ago that had both Summer and I both nearly crying with joy:

It was this performance that prompted me to say to Summer, "If Michael doesn't become a total superstar, there is no justice in this world." That kid has pipes, but more than that, he has the ability to totally captivate an audience.

And this gorgeous version of "Midnight Train to Georgia" could give anyone chills:

But more than being great performers and so much fun to watch, these guys showed true class--they really, really wanted to win the competition, but when Pentatonix took it, the guys of The Dartmouth Aires cheered as loud as anyone in the crowd, and surrounded the winners in a huge group hug right there on the stage. They were sad for themselves--of course--but they were happy for their friends, too. It proved that though music can be competitive, there is also a deep respect among artists for the incredible sounds that can be made, and the huge joy that music can inspire in others.

Some other awesome performances by the Aires:

The Wild and Absolutely True Adventures of a Gymbo

2011-11-29T19:14:00.000-08:00

Maybe I should rename my blog...as all I seem to blog about anymore is training, running, and more training. Or, I could, instead, write a post about what else is going on in my life when I'm not training, running, or attending yoga classes (or, you know, passed out in exhaustion from any and all of the above).

Singing Fool

Yep, still singing with SCSO. We have our "Home For the Holidays" concerts coming in just under two weeks (you should go!). Which reminds me that I ought to spend a few minutes this evening memorizing the words to our processional song--it's in Latin, which is hard to memorize for some reason.

I've settled in quite well and started getting to know some more people--everyone is quite friendly, but it's hard to know everyone in such a large group.

This weekend, I'm driving to Lodi (just north of Stockton) to hear my friends in Stockton Chorale sing their holiday concert.

Productivity

I've been quite busy when I'm at home--I've been listing some of Mom's back issues of magazines on eBay (if you or someone you know love craft/hobby/home decor magazines, please, please, please refer to my eBay shop!) and that is a time-consuming process. I'm listing them individually, which means photographing each magazine, then creating a new listing with the right month and year, issue number, etc.

When I'm not doing that, I'm job hunting, helping out around the house and making smoothies. Because I'm drinking a lot of smoothies these days (but no more about fitness/weight loss/trainer's orders in this post!).

Then That Whole "Christmas" Deal

I can't believe it's almost December. Where September, October and November went, I've no idea. But here we are, and I've bought my Christmas cards and they'll be done and in the mail by the end of the week. I don't have a lot to buy, gift-wise, so there won't be a lot of rushing about the mall for me (which is good, as I've been really snotty and snarky when shopping recently. I have embarrassed poor Mom a few times).

We've put up our trees--yes, trees, as in two. Mom put hers up in the living room and it's all Better Homes and Gardens-worthy. She graciously allowed me to put a 3' tree on the kitchen table we never eat at (what?) and mine is covered in Snoopy and ornaments I've picked up in my travels. Mine is utterly ridiculous, not at all elegant, and I love it. I love Mom's tree, too, of course...and I will post pictures soon.

And That's About It

Honestly, my brain is taken up by training so much these days. There's a lot of "M. says..." and "I'll have to ask M. what he thinks about..." coming out of my mouth, and I'm sure Mom and Dad feel that they, too, are training with him by extension. It was like this with G., and so it goes with M.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some stretching to do before I go to bed.

Yo--GUH

2011-11-29T18:33:00.000-08:00

In 7th grade, a horrible truth was driven home to me in PE class: I can't touch my toes.

Well, I can, but I have to bend my knees ~~a little~~ a lot. Thing is, in 7th grade PE, whenever they tested us, someone held your knees down so you couldn't "cheat." I was always embarrassed by my inability to stretch very far forward--while I could do other stretches with some ease, this one was impossible.

I still can't touch my toes, twenty years later.

I've never been the most flexible, bendy person. Part of that was the extra weight, and part of that is that my muscles are tight as guitar strings. It's something I'm working on, and I admit that I took some time off from the whole stretching and foam roller routine that I got pretty good at while working with G. the Meanie. Fortunately, it's M. the Reasonable to the rescue. He's given me some good new stretches and working with him (and waking up the next day sore from working with him) reminds me that I need to stretch pretty much every day.

Yesterday, we struck a deal that I would not have to run today if I instead attended the gym's 10:00 yoga class, with a 10-minute warm-up on the StairMaster beforehand. Running is hard on Tuesdays--I'm up late on Mondays with SCSO rehearsal and completely wired when I get home--so I was happy to do something a little different...and, yes, a little nervous.

The last time I attempted yoga was in 2004 sometime, and it was always difficult. I liked it, but it could get a little embarrassing, not being as flexible as others, or not being able to balance for as long. However, Meg of 2011 is very much not the same as Meg of 2004 and today I walked in with an attitude of "I will do what I can and give 100% on the things I can't yet do."

Still, yoga is a little intimidating. My balance is leaps and bounds better than it used to be (thank you, strong muscles!) but I'm still very inflexible and some of the positions started to get a bit painful.

What I liked, however, was the focus on clearing your mind and focusing on the breath. I also got some very good stretching from it and walked out feeling really good--while I had walked into class feeling sore and tight from the workout* I did with M. yesterday.

I think I'll make yoga a once or even twice-a-week part of my routine from now on. I won't replace running; I can certainly do both all in one day. I just liked how I felt afterwards and would like to keep doing it and seeing some improvement in my overall flexibility. M. can also help with that from time to time (he did one stretch with me a week-and-a-half ago that was fantastic for my shoulders and chest, which tend to be really, really tight.

He has also recommended I make stretching the last thing I do before bed each night--after brushing my teeth and all that other running-around stuff. Apparently, stretching and then sleeping is ideal, as it gives the body lots of time to stay in that stretched-out position. I'll be starting that tonight.

*Yesterday's workout: One minute intervals of the following:

Squats in which I had to lightly touch my bottom to the edge of a treadmill (which is less than one foot off the ground) and bounce back up. After the first couple of sets he put a stability ball out and held it for me, prompting me to say, "Right. You're not Lucy. You won't pull the ball away!"
Elevated push-ups with my feet on either side of the belt on the treadmill and hands placed on the bar.
A simple row, using a resistance band anchored to the treadmill
"Push Cars," an exercise M. got from "The Biggest Loser" in which I hold on to the treadmill bar and run...by powering the treadmill with my body rather than good ole electricity. Yes, it's hard work. Not only on the legs, but on the shoulders, because to get any traction, I basically have to go into a push-up and squeeze my shoulder blades together.

I did this whole routine five times (so yes, five minutes of each exercise) and then we spent the last bit of our appointment on the rowing machine. Did my shoulders hurt this morning? Yes, yes, they did.

Another Blog About Running

2011-11-27T21:12:00.000-08:00

Here she goes again, blogging about running!

I can't help it, I've had such a great breakthrough weekend. Of course, I shared on Friday that I'd had a good run that evening--not fantastic, but I made it through and it wasn't pain and agony with every step. Saturday morning, I had an even better run--I made one 20-minute interval and I was quite proud of this, even though it was a very slow pace.

The bottom line is, I'm getting back into fighting form, which is great news. It will be fun to brag to M. the Reasonable tomorrow (by the way, Maayan says this nickname is not "badass" enough compared to my former trainers' nicknames, but I think that M. himself was kind of apprehensive about me dreaming up a nickname that was along the same lines as Sadist and Meanie). He will be pleased with my running...we'll see what he thinks of the nickname!

I went back through my old Diary of a Fat Girl tag tonight, to the earliest days of my training. I can barely remember what it was like to work with B. the Sadist and C. the Sweetie--it's all been drowned out by seven rigorous months with G. the Meanie. So going back, I found the post in which I first whined about running. C. the Sweetie made me run a two-minute interval on the treadmill one day and I absolutely wanted to expire right then and there. I laugh, now. How far I've come!

This weekend felt like a breakthrough for me because I actually didn't mind being out there, pounding the pavement. I went back to my best running days of June/July/August 2010, when I found that running, while not the most pleasant thing I can think to do (there is always going to be the chance of shin splints), at least helped me clear my head and feel that I'd accomplished something. Even M. admitted--at our first appointment--that he hates to run. He does it, though, because it's the best way to burn calories--better than any machine in the gym. (G. didn't even want me looking at the elliptical--he insisted I was not working on it and that was that.)

The best result of all this running is, well, feeling good, yes, but also sleeping well. Every night this weekend, I have had no trouble falling asleep, staying asleep, and waking up early feeling refreshed and ready to face the day.

In other words, I'd better keep this up.

It Keeps You Running

2011-11-25T18:07:00.000-08:00

Glory, glory, hallelujah.

After Tuesday's absolute disaster of a run, M. the Reasonable gave me a day off from running on Wednesday and a 45-minute walk on Thursday (I did almost an hour. In the rain. Okay, mist.) Today, it was back to the gym, to do a resistance training workout on my own, and 30 minutes of running again. I went to the gym this morning and got through the workout just fine. When I got home, I helped Mom get all the Christmas stuff out, so it wasn't until about 4:00 this afternoon that I went on my run.

I was apprehensive. Tuesday's attempt was so bad, so painful, that I was very nervous to try again today. Even with my new running shoes (which believe me, make a HUGE difference). But I bravely set out and started trotting along. Lo and behold, today was downright easy.

Don't get me wrong--I worked. I ran 30 minutes and my shins were starting to splint a bit at the very end, but overall, this run was so easy compared to Tuesday. I'm sure it was 50% shoe and 50% not being exhausted.

I love it when things go my way.

Happy Thanksgiving!

2011-11-24T06:00:00.000-08:00

May your food be plentiful...

This and the next two images via TV Guide.

May you be surrounded by the people you love...

May you be free from drama...

May your Thanksgiving be filled with laughter and good memories.

I am thankful for so many things, but the most important among these is YOU. Yes, you! Happy Thanksgiving, Friend.

M. the Reasonable

2011-11-23T20:05:00.000-08:00

There. We have a nickname at last! Every time I've blogged about my new trainer over the last week, I've wracked my brain for a good adjective. On Monday he said, "Well, it seems your three previous trainers all had sort of negative nicknames..." and I told him about the blog post I'd written about my attitude adjustment since starting this whole adventure. It hardly seemed fair to give him a mean nickname--though he pointed out that if I don't hold up my end of the deal, he will give me consequences, as Gershom used to. Fair enough.

Then yesterday, I had the run from hell. I was in bed at 7:00 last night (I watched TV for a few hours, but still, I was tucked in, lights out, in bed at 7:00) and still tired today. My body is getting used to being back in training mode. I had an appointment with M. at 10:00, so off to the gym I went, tired but excited to kick a little butt (believe it or not, I actually always look forward to my workouts with my trainers because I like having the guidance and motivation). I did a ten-minute warmup on the StairMaster, then some easy stretching, before meeting M.

I showed him my food journal, and he was quite pleased. I've learned excellent eating habits and I'm living with two people who are on Weight Watchers, so my diet is 75% fruits and vegetables, with lots of lean protein and light on the bread and dairy. He was pleased with the planks I did on my own yesterday. I told him of my horrible run, fearing with every word that he would be disappointed. He wasn't--he simply told me, "I'm not surprised. Your body is getting used to training again." His bottom line is that as long as I am giving 100%, and trying, he's not going to penalize me for being tired, or for having a bad run.

Still, I have some lingering frustration. These days I just expect so much more from my body than that.

Anyway, my workout today was good--but not great. I was so flippin' tired, I couldn't balance as well as usual and kept wobbling in the step-back lunges and balance exercises. My rows were downright painful. I was sweating even more than usual.

During the last exercise, I plaintively asked him over my shoulder, "So...should I run today?" Imagine my delight and relief when he said, "No. Rest. And tomorrow, I want you to just walk."

I could have wept. Or hugged him.

So with those words, M. earned himself the nickname M. the Reasonable. This does not mean I expect him to let anything slide--he won't. He will push me--he just won't push me past that point where my body can't take anymore, and he trusts me to tell him when that point is without being dishonest or lazy.

Also, as far as eating for Thanksgiving, he told me to live my life. I am at a point now where I don't feel the need to gorge, but I do want to enjoy my meal. Mom, Dad and I are eating out to avoid leftovers, so once I've eaten, I'm done.

I had figured we'd weigh today, but he said he doesn't check weight weekly--he's also less concerned with the number on the scale and more concerned with how my clothes fit, how I'm eating, and how my fitness is. So no weigh-in today. See? Dude is so reasonable.

OMG, My Body Hates Me

2011-11-22T17:20:00.000-08:00

Today had to be the worst run I've ever done.

My running successes come in waves. I'll go through a period of great running, where I don't exactly love doing it but I do it and it's fine and relatively painless. Go me! I always feel great afterwards. Not great enough to do it again, but satisfied and healthy and like I've accomplished something. Then life gets in the way and I take a couple days off and that next run is hard and maybe I let my brain talk me into quitting too soon...

Almost exactly one month ago, I was cleaning the whole house in anticipation of Mom and Dad's return from their three-week cruise. I hadn't trashed the place, but I wanted it to be fresh and welcoming for them when they got home. In the midst of cleaning, suddenly, my back was hurting. Really hurting. I hobbled into my bedroom and sat down, thinking, "Oh, God, just what I don't need." I noticed, that day and the next, that I was at my most uncomfortable when I sat for long periods of time, and walking around the house seemed to help it. Still, I wanted to be cautious, so I stopped all working out for a few days...which turned into a week.

The next week, I felt a cold coming on. A little tickle in the throat. Nose plugged up. I was nearing my first concert with SCSO, so I stopped all activity and spent that week resting so as not to get sick. It worked...but now I'd had two weeks without a good workout.

I have all these excuses, and really, it all just amounts to me being lazy.

I started getting back to working out, trying to get to the gym more, trying to run. But running, after two weeks off, was a disaster. I was not pushing myself, and occasionally, my back would twinge enough to make me turn around and walk home. My biggest fear is hurting myself to a point where I can't work out, and gaining the weight back.

So I signed up to work with M. I'm glad I did, as it is giving me the motivation I need, but damn, my body is really hurting today.

Before I hurt my back a month ago, I was running pretty well--not as long as I should, but I was getting closer and closer to a ten-minute mile and feeling pretty good. Now, my last few runs have been completely miserable.

Over the last few years, I've gotten in the habit of doing my cardio before an appointment with a trainer, simply because I'm often wiped out after working with someone who has more muscles in his left calf than I have in my whole body. M., however, wants me to do my cardio after my appointments with him.

Monday's appointment was great. I worked up a sweat, the exercises were doable but still worked my body, and M. and I are establishing a great rapport already. (I told him my theory about him getting Nice Confident Megan, while Gershom was stuck, two years ago, with Bratty I-Can't-Do-This Megan. He laughed and said, "I have a lot to thank him for--you have great form and are easy to work with because you know what you can do.") When I left, I felt good. I was slurping down my smoothie (this is a new, twice-a-day, trainer-mandated addition to my diet) and assuring him that though I was tired, I'd run 30 minutes that afternoon and again today.

Yesterday's run was hard. I had a hard time running for five minutes, let alone thirty. So I pushed myself for 5 minute intervals, walking between. Not great, but it was the best I could muster. Today, I couldn't even do that.

I can run for 15-20 minutes, usually, before the major fatigue starts setting in. Getting to two minutes and wanting to collapse is not a good feeling. I can't describe how painful today's run was--my legs didn't want to move forward. My arms didn't want to propel me along. My back and hips were all over the place--I could feel my hips swaying as I ran--not good. When I got home, I was gasping, and it took a lot longer for me to recover than usual. I could barely muster the energy to make my smoothie.

But like I mentioned above--my running success comes in waves. I'm making up for lost time, I'm back to training for the first time in a year-and-a-half, and I have to be patient. Today sucked, but tomorrow could very well be a great running day.

I doubt it can be worse than today, anyway.

Attitude

2011-11-21T09:04:00.000-08:00

Last night, I went through some of my old "Diary of a Hot" girl posts. Some of the things I wrote in the seven months I worked with Gershom are hysterical. We really did have quite acidic conversations at times. But in the end, I always trusted him and I am forever grateful that he helped me get as far as I did before my sessions ran out and unemployment set in.

I'm still struggling to come up with a nickname for M. for the blog, because, to be honest, he's so much nicer than Gershom. Well, wait, that sounds awful. Gershom is a perfectly nice person, he's just very demanding as a trainer and he always held me to his sky-high expectations. Sometimes I thought that was rather mean. So I blogged accordingly.

I had a revelation last night--my inability to figure out a nickname for M. doesn't really have much to do with M. himself, and I doubt he's actually nicer than Gershom. The difference, this time around, is me. Perhaps M. seems nicer than Gershom because M. has a nicer Megan to deal with.

Gershom met me when I was 200 pounds and not a runner--not even a little bit. I had zero confidence in my athletic abilities and I was facing a long, long road of weight loss and lifestyle overhaul. It was daunting and flat-out frightening--and I was never sure I could actually pull it off. In my fear, I retreated into sarcasm and defensiveness. So Gershom responded in kind, because that is exactly what I needed from him. I think, in our earliest sessions, he didn't know whether or not he could believe in me, but he believed in his abilities as a trainer enough to give it a try. I rose to the occasion.

Now, after my first two appointments with M., I continue to have this positive, I-can-do-this attitude. Sure, some of the exercises he will make me do will be difficult, but I come to him with this completely different attitude. I know I'm strong. I know I am capable. I know that an exercise that is really difficult today will be a little bit easier tomorrow, and easier the next day, and the next, etc, until finally, one day, the exercise is doable.

So M., the lucky guy, gets Positive Meg, whereas Gershom had Desperate and Scared Meg. My attitude is the biggest deciding factor in how I perceive my trainers.

Some of the funniest blurbs from my past blogs are below. I laughed out loud reading them--not because I think I'm particularly funny but because it shows just how the dynamic between Gershom and I changed over time, as I started to believe in myself.

The other day, I blogged that I was referring to my trainer as G. the Meanie less and less. Well, we're back to Meanie status. He's going to make me run THREE miles on Friday. Non-stop. With him pushing me along. In public. We're going to do a big loop that I often run through my neighborhood. I hope it rains.

Another one--I was really hating him this day:

We started, as usual, at his desk. He picked up a medicine ball and said, "We have a teammate today." A medicine ball is basically a basketball, except that it only bounces about a foot off the ground because it weighs 10 pounds.

"This ball is not allowed to touch the ground AT ALL during our workout today. We'll take turns holding it."

"Okay..." I replied with a growing sense of forboding.

"We're going to do 20 minutes stairs, some Versa Climber, some sprints and some skips and see what time it is when we've done all that."

"Right." Oh, shit.

He walked briskly to the row of Stair Masters as I trudged behind. We had a new rule today--no holding on. He didn't seem to care that I have a near-constant feeling that I'm going to fall backwards off the damn machine to my certain death three feet below. "No excuses, Megan!"

Honestly. M. the [TBD] is lucky to get me at this point in my training. : )

A Week of Thankfulness, Day 2

2011-11-21T07:00:00.000-08:00

Today, I am thankful for my friends. I have a fantastic group of people who support me, listen to me, hang out with me, and put up with my rubber duck.

Summer is always happy to lend her shoulder when I need it, and she is my partner in crime on many an adventure. She has a lot of dirt on me (and I on her!).

Meghan and I go back to middle school. She is always great for a fun day out or an evening of dinner and wine. I'm glad to be living nearer to her now, so we can get together more often.

Maayan and I have what we call the crazy mind share, and meeting her in person in April was a definite highlight this year. I can't wait to visit her in New York.

Lindsay is one of the most inspiring people I've ever met, and understanding, too. In a few short months she'll be welcoming wee Thomas Liam, and I couldn't be more excited for her.

Sarah is my hilarious English side-kick in the duck group who is happy to have completely silly back-and-forth conversations with me throughout the day on Facebook. I can't wait for the day I meet both Sarah and Lindsay in person (though the world might implode from the crazy).

There are so many other people I'm thankful to have...friends all over the world who brighten my days and who appreciate me for who I am--often silly, but always happy to share a laugh with a friend.

Meghan, Cali, and I at Sutter Club in Folsom.

Summer and I at the Bridge School Benefit Concert.

Summer and I on the 4th of July.

Maayan and I, with Izzy and Cali, at the Railroad Revival Tour.

Another one of Maayan and I (and another with me in that hoodie).

Meghan and I at the Mumford and Sons concert in Santa Barbara.

A Week of Thankfulness, Day 1

2011-11-20T18:00:00.000-08:00

Mom, Dad, what can I say?

In the last few months, I have turned their house upside down. Mom's tiny craft room--with barely enough space for her stuff--now also accommodates my Etsy shop and all that entails. She moved all of her fabric and yarn out of the guest room so I could put my stuff in and make it my Batcave. I get to park my car in the garage, while Dad parks on the driveway. My eBay stuff lines one wall of the garage so I can continue selling. They hauled a piano into my room so I wouldn't have to put it in storage.

Now, they're even putting up with me making a smoothie every day--the noise of the blender and me using up all the spinach. I can afford training right now because I'm living here, instead of paying rent.

Beyond all of this, they've really just let me do my thing. Dad does ask that I make my bed every day and of course it's expected that I help keep the house clean. When Mom has company I clean my bathroom and de-Meg it so that it's ready for guests. Mom and I take turns doing Litter Box Duty and I try to pitch in with unloading the dishwasher from time to time (though often Dad does that before I'm even awake in the morning).

They'd rather I put my food needs on the grocery list than buy things myself, and they are happy that I'm volunteering with the cats and singing in the choir and working out at the gym. They don't pester me with "how's the job hunt going?" questions and therefore I do my best to keep them informed about what I'm doing to procure employment.

I know it's hard for them, changing their life around for me, but they've been happy to do it because they know they're helping me. For that, I'm forever thankful.

P.S. They're both looking WAY slimmer now, thanks to Weight Watchers. I'm
very proud of them!

Ow.

2011-11-19T13:35:00.000-08:00

Yeah, I'm hurting today.

Still managed a good run, though. I ran a couple of miles, walked a couple. I think I'll spend the bulk of the afternoon sitting. I do need to catch up on NaNoWriMo and get a few other things done.

But for the moment, I really just need to whine.

Day Two

2011-11-18T21:43:00.000-08:00

This morning, I made my way to the gym by the unholy hour of 8:00 for my first full workout appointment with M. the [To Be Determined]. From now on, we'll meet at a more reasonable hour (10:00) but he wanted to get a workout in this week after yesterday's first appointment.

To begin with, I was sore in the shoulders and triceps from the push-ups and pull-ups from yesterday, and now I know I'm going to be hurting tomorrow (if the difficulty I'm having pulling my pants up this afternoon/evening is any indication). But otherwise, I feel good. He has me doing full-body exercises like a squat-row hybrid. I'm working my body and feeling the burn. M. pays a lot of attention to my form and is also showing me new stretches (I've always been very tight and had a hard time stretching--it's gotten better but I still have work to do). We chatted easily and I told him some of my previous training adventures--like the time I threw up.

When I signed up for the training, the gym manager told me his trainers often make their clients get on the treadmill--and power it themselves. Yep. M. made me do this today. It's actually easier than it sounds, though yes, it is tiring.

What I like most about M. so far is that instead of saying, "You'll do a plank for 1 minute," he has me hold the position as long as I can, with the instruction that if my form starts going to hell, to stop. I held the plank for almost a full minute the first couple of times, but on the third try, my back was starting to bow, so I said so. "Then stop," M. told me. His reasoning: if the muscles I'm exercising are not doing the exercise properly anymore because they're tired, it's best to stop and rest rather than risk injury.

My assignment for this weekend is to run 30 minutes each day, and then I meet with M. again on Monday. I have a feeling the workouts are going to be harder and harder every time I see him.

Bring it on.

Now, if only I could think of a nickname for him.

M. the [To Be Determined]

2011-11-17T12:32:00.000-08:00

I'm just back from my first appointment with M., my new trainer. My fourth trainer. Heh. If you had told me four years ago that I'd go through all of this weight-loss stuff with four different personal trainers, I wouldn't have believed you. And yet, here I am.

The verdict after one hour with him: I like him. He seems nice, and he's reasonable ("Of course you can have a piece of pie on Thanksgiving. I let myself have a cheeseburger every Friday as a reward for working hard and eating well the rest of the week!"). He is a stickler for form, which is good. Today we spent the majority of the appointment taking measurements (it's always interesting having a guy measuring your neck, bust, waist, hips, legs and arms upon first meeting you) and discussing diet regime.

From now on, my morning bowl of Kashi is out and eggs are in. I can scramble them with veggies and all that good stuff. And from now on, I need to make a protein shake and drink it twice a day. Fruit, veggies, protein powder and flax seed. This is to be consumed between my three daily meals. I'm also adding fish oil pills to each meal.

The most important thing we agree on, however, is my ultimate goal. He asked me what my overall goal is and I told him that originally, it had been 130 pounds, but after seven months of working with Gershom, it had changed to "wherever my body tells me to stop." If that is 140, that's fine, but I want to ultimately determine my goal weight by getting to a point where I'm at peak fitness and my healthiest habits; that point where my body levels off at a certain weight and seems content to stay there. M. said, "Good!" and admitted that he hates setting goal weights because it is such a hard number to calculate, and different for everyone. He told me I have the right attitude about approaching working out and eating (thank you Gershom, that's all on you, buddy).

My workout today was just a series of basic, simple moves--a pull-up, a squat, a push-up and a lunge. He wanted to watch my form and see what I'm capable of. He seemed impressed with my form overall, and only made some minor corrections here and there. Tomorrow, we'll meet again and do a full workout. I will definitely be sweating then.

I told him that I have a blog, and that I blog about my weight loss adventures regularly. "I never use the full name of my trainers in it, just their initial and a nickname. I've had B. the Sadist, C. the Sweetie, and Gershom was G. the Meanie. You, I haven't determined yet." He laughed out loud and said, "Give it some time, you'll figure something out for me."

I think we'll be a good match. He will make me work, he will monitor my eating habits, and he will be honest with me when I need blunt honesty.

Now, the admission: I weighed in at 173.4 today. Compared to the 160 pounds I weighed at my last appointment with Gershom a year-and-a-half ago, this is bad (though I still fit in the clothes I was wearing then, for the most part). Compared to the 180+ I was secretly dreading, it's good. Either way, it was the first time in ages I've weighed and it's good to know where I'm at and what I need to do. That weight is coming off, my friends, and it will not come back.