Where is the ice cream?

You might remember me proclaiming I’m quitting ice cream a while back.

Wondering how I’m doing on that?

For the most part, really good.  The beginning was rough.  I still had ice cream here and my thoughts reminded me of what I said to myself when I attempted  to quit smoking ages ago…”Well, I’ll finish after this pack is gone, no sense in wasting money.”

And so it became “I’ll finish when this ice cream is gone, no sense in wasting money.”

The thing is, the real moment which matters isn’t at home, it’s at the grocery store.  Being able to NOT put the ice cream into my cart is all that matters.  If I don’t have ice cream at home, then I won’t eat it very often.

So I didn’t buy any.  I instead chose a mango sorbet which is lovely and which doesn’t cause me to enter some sort of eating contest mode where I shove as much into my mouth as possible.  The sorbet took the edge off, but it wasn’t ice cream and boy oh boy did my body know it!

I swear to you I went through a sort of withdrawal.  I didn’t get the shakes, but I certainly went through a period where my mind tried to convince me I NEEDED it.

And then one day I just forgot about it.  Magically.  I even forgot to eat the mango sorbet.  I even forgot to walk longingly past the ice creams in the grocery store.  I forgot to replenish my  mango sorbet.

All this has happened in the past three weeks and I’m quite pleased with the progress.  I have eaten ice cream while out (a scoop comes free with my meal at a restaurant I frequent nearby which is literally the best deal around, soup, salad and a meal and ice cream for like 6 bucks.  I eat the soup and salad and box up the meal for the next night…. anyway).  I ate that scoop and it was ok.  I didn’t have any more ice cream available to me so it wasn’t a major issue, but I did crave more and that tells me ice cream at home is likely a no-no for the foreseeable future.

I will always wonder what it is about ice cream that makes my body go crazy with cravings, but I’m totally going to work at maintaining a distant (but loving) relationship with the stuff.

Pumpkins…pumpkins everywhere!

Seriously, I’ve been dying to get my hands on some pumpkin.

Everyone seems to be talking about pumpkin overnight oats, which just about makes me shiver with glee.  I mean, I love pumpkin… or at least, I love pumpkin pie.  Hmm, maybe that’s not quite the same thing.

I’ve tried for two weeks in a row now to get my hands on some canned pumpkin at the grocery store.  No luck.  I swear.  I’ve searched the entire store from top to bottom.  I can find pumpkin pie filling (you know, it’s got loads of goop already in it and is sky high in calories I certainly don’t need) but not actual pumpkin.  I know they make it, I’ve bought it before!  It’s simply nowhere.

As I walked through the produce aisle this week I saw some baking pumpkins.  They’re so small and adorable that I couldn’t help but pick one up… and doing so jogged a memory of reading a blog post somewhere (the danger of reading so many blogs) about making your own pumpkin puree.  And this is how I walked out of the store with a $0.99 baking pumpkin.

It turns out, making your own puree is just as easy as it sounds.  You bake the thing, take the baked pieces and put them through your food processor.  (There was a lot of babble about taking out excess water from the pumpkin and I worried about this as it’s totally the type of step I usually omit because it’s tedious work… Some may want to do so if they’re using it for pies or something but for my purposes, it wasn’t ridiculously watery or anything.)

You know how some people can effortlessly cut open a huge object like a pumpkin or spaghetti squash without it being a huge production?  I am not one of those people.  I think those people have better knives than I do.

Scraping out the innards…. not as fun as I remember it being when carving pumpkins as a child… though the goo is just as slimy and squishy as I remember.

See how little this cutie is?  Seriously.  Soo cute.  Into the oven at 350 for an hour.

I didn’t even check on them at all.  I just baked them for the entire hour and then took them out when the timer went off.  They’d turned this gorgeous deep orange color and I had to taste a bit of baked pumpkin as I couldn’t remember if I’d ever had it before… and it turns out… I genuinely enjoy pumpkin; just plain pumpkin, nothing on it, no sugar or spices… it’s good stuff!

After the pumpkin cools enough (naturally I refused to wait) you peel the skin off, using a knife to aid the process (I now have burnt fingertips  because of my impatience).  Then you chunk it up and put it through a food processor.

And then you have pumpkin.  It’s not as dense as in the can (mostly due to the water issue) and apparently the water issue isn’t hard to resolve.  Simply place some coffee filters in the bottom of a strainer, put the strainer in a bowl, put the pumpkin in the strainer and leave in the fridge overnight.  As I’m not making pie, I’m skipping this step.

First thing I did?  I made up some pumpkin overnight oats complete with pumpkin pie spice, extra cinnamon and a tiny bit of maple syrup.  I’m pretty sure it’s going to be epic.

I also decided to roast the pumpkin seeds, fishing them out of the goop is… interesting.  I’d never done it before.  I felt like a kid playing in slime.  🙂

All in all I got 5 cups of puree from one tiny pumpkin for $0.99.  If I like the pumpkin overnight oats, I may buy quite a few more, do them up and freeze them…. no more searching for canned pumpkin.

Me. I did that.

I ran 5 miles Saturday.

Prior to starting I’d say it was 50% nerves/fear I couldn’t do it and 50% excitement because I was pretty sure I could.  I don’t know why but the concept of running 5 miles has been stuck in my head since I started running.  Why this number? I couldn’t tell you.  I honestly don’t know.  But, for whatever reason, my mind has linked the ability to run 5 miles with being a “real runner”.

So I guess I became a real runner on Saturday.

It’s still incredibly surreal, made worse by the fact that the Garmin ate the work out in some strange freak accident.  I’m not sure what happened.  I mean, it tracked my entire work out, it put me through my paces the entire time.  It yelled at me when I went above my target heart rate zone in the final mile (which I did because I gave it my all on that final mile).

And then I got home and it was all like “What 5 miles?”

I would have liked to have seen the results.  I would love to have a chart to show you my five miles, displayed proudly for everyone to see.  I just don’t have that though and it’s sort of a crushing blow.  I’m trying not to be too upset about it but… yeah, I’m sort of upset.

Some details I can tell you about the run:  My pace varied between 12:00/mile and 13:00/mile.  The pace started out around 12:00/mile and then slowly rose upwards towards 13:00/mile the further I ran.  The final mile I pushed myself and even sprinted towards the end!  I burned 634 calories.  I didn’t catch my total time.  Bummer.

Another detail about the run?  I cried.  I cried and then it totally reminded me of this post by Angela at Oh She Glows.  When I originally read it I nodded solemnly at the part where she states her question “Have you ever cried during a run?”

I mean… I HAVE cried.  I cried during my 5k.  I cried because I was there doing something I never thought I’d do.  I cried because I was so proud of myself for being there, for having the courage, for starting this entire journey at all.

Today I cried for many of the same reasons.  It didn’t happen until about 1/4 mile into my last mile.  As I rounded a small bend I suddenly realized:  Hey, I’m going to run 5 miles today.  And then it hit me.. BLAMO… right solidly in the chest.  I was going to run 5 miles.  Me.  The girl who can’t run, who could never run.  Me, the girl who just used to wish to be able to run a single mile because it just seemed like something everyone should be able to do without feeling like they were going to die.

Me.

And once I started crying, the tears kept coming as I realized I hadn’t yet run 5 miles but there was absolutely nothing which would stop me from doing it.  I knew I could push myself to the finish.  I knew there was no way I’d quit.  I knew I’d go all the way.

Me.

And so I cried through so many emotions.  I cried through the pain of years spent hating my body.  I cried through the pain of years of people’s snide comments and thoughtless remarks.  I cried through the pain of so many past fitness failures.

And you know something?  The crying didn’t even slow me down.  I kept on going.  I pushed harder, made myself go faster, and eventually sprinted to the finish.

Me.  I did that.  I still sorta can’t believe it.

Steppin outta my shell

Yesterday I woke up 20 minutes early entirely to ensure I’d have that much extra time to fuss over my outfit.

I’ve never been what anyone would call a “girly girl”.  The tricks of doing hair have usually eluded me, makeup makes me nervous, and for most of my life I’ve bought clothes to hide my body.  Ok, maybe not my ENTIRE body, but to hide my belly, or mask my chubby thighs, or even to cover more of my huge arms.  Heck, it’s not like I even have boobs enough to wear a low cut top and feel like I’m baring something.

So anyway, the whole concept of enjoying clothes shopping is pretty new for me.  I’m loving it, I really am (in moderation, mind you, I am not made of money).  A couple weeks ago I went shopping and bought a dress.  It’s cute.  A sweater dress with a tiny sleeve, beaded around the collar and which falls nicely just above the knee.  I love it from the moment I put it on over my jeans (a definite outfit sometime, seriously).

Yesterday, I woke up 20 minutes early so I could wear that dress to work.  It’s the first time I’ve worn a dress to work and the third time I’ve worn a dress in 5 years.  (Totally counting my wedding day in there.)   I was scared to death.  See, I knew the dress would attract attention and suddenly all my insecurities came flying out of the box I’ve stuffed them in.  What if the dress isn’t in style?  What if I’m not wearing it the right way?  What if it doesn’t look as good as I think it does?

You know, those insecurities can be summed up by this:  They’re all gonna laugh at you!

It took all 20 of those extra minutes to get ready yesterday morning, plus another 5.  (oops)  And you know something?  No one laughed.  About 20 people said I looked “soooo cute” and most people didn’t even look at me twice.  You know, because I am just a person in a dress… it’s nothing special.

So yeah… it was a cool day.

Tonight I’ve got my gathering.  There have been a few people who can’t make it but those who are coming are totally excited.  Again, inviting people over…hosting anything at all…. not usually my thing so I’m nervous.

And I guess what all this means is… I’m stepping out of my shell.

It feels good, too.  I mean, all these years I’ve held myself back a lot; always afraid of not being good enough or not being able.  In the past year I’ve decided I am good enough and I’ve also decided I will make myself able.  So here I am, wearing dresses and hosting gatherings… donning makeup more often too.

I wouldn’t call myself a butterfly or anything, but I’m definitely stepping out of who I used to be, molting if you will… I like the changes.  I like the new me.  I like knowing I’m good enough.  I like knowing that, just because I can’t do something right now, it doesn’t mean I won’t ever be able to.

Woah, I joined Twitter

You know how you think you know something and then it turns out you had no real clue?

Twitter is kinda like that for me.  I thought I knew all about Twitter.  I even joined once, eons ago, with the idea of keeping up with other Biology teachers across the nation.  As it turns out, Biology teachers in general are incredibly boring.  I soon abandoned Twitter after realizing I have nothing to say and those Biology teachers weren’t saying anything I couldn’t live without.

Fast forward a year an a half or two years, insert a blog… then insert blogging friends… then insert the idea that everyone is on Twitter… and… Let’s just say I got curious.

I joined Twitter.  You can follow me if you like.  I cannot promise I have anything of interest to say (apparently that Biology teacher affliction affects me as well) but I can say I’ve been having a great time so far and it’s likely hilarious just watching me stumble around in Twitter.

Some things I’ve learned so far:

1. Most people have better access to Twitter than I do.  Whether it’s through fancy phones or not having every website in the world blocked while at work – most people seem to be able to Tweet, follow Tweets, and do other stuff on Twitter far more often than me.
2. Twitter has it’s own language of symbols.  People are NOT swearing at you when you see symbols like @#!  These are even likely good things.
3. RT is not a person with those initials.  If this were a person, they’d be the most popular person in the world.
4. There is a Tuesday night at 9pm EST chat which is fantastic (and super busy and super bewildering for a newbie like myself) called #fitblog which uses one of those symbols, but is an incredibly friendly and informative place where many people go.

Yeah, that’s about all I’ve learned.  Last night, while in the midst of the #fitblog discussion, I had to laugh at myself for being so totally clueless.  I felt like one of those people who find themselves mystified by the internet and technology and that just usually isn’t me.

Fun times, fun times.

And, while I’m here I’ll give you the update from Monday’s run.  This was 30 minutes at a higher intensity level than Sunday.  I didn’t want to go.  At all.  It was 80 degrees out and that usually is a recipe for misery for me.

I won’t say it ended up not being miserable… because I quickly became dehydrated but I’ve gotten over my avoidance of stopping to take a drink… So, I merely ran by the car and took a drink, stopping the time when I did so.

I will say I am pleased with my average time during the 30 minutes.  Did you check out that high speed?  Avg being 5.1 mph isn’t too shabby for me, either.  I’m sure I could have gone faster on a better day as it was hot AND stupidly windy but I’ve begun ignoring the wind as a factor which could make me not run.  I mean, I run outside, the wind will happen… am I going to back out of an event because it’s a windy day?  I think not.

So, be that as it may.. the day was windy and hot and I still averaged 5.1 mph which makes me happy.  🙂

Fewer Choices = Staying on Track

Every once in a while I actually glance over the hot posts on the wordpress.com page.

There’s usually some good stuff there and even if I don’t necessarily read the entire post (I skim, I skim) it’s fun to get outside of the weight loss/healthy living blog world in which I’ve immersed myself and take a gander at what the rest of the planet is blathering on about.

This led me to read this post. And while it may not initially seem relevant to what I talk about here… it totally is!  Allow me to quote the pertinent bit:

Dr.  Haltzman shared some research with me about the negative effects in our consumer society of having too many choices—which may lead to increased expectations and lower satisfaction. A book called The Choice Paradox by Barry Schwartz shares research that flies in the face of conventional wisdom. (I will have another post about this topic soon, because there is much insight to glean.) I’ll cut to the chase and reveal that people are happier with the choices they make when there are relatively few choices from which to choose.

This reminded me of something my sister once said to me which went along the lines of (and I loosely quote) “I just do much better with my food when I don’t have a lot of choices.”

So the two of these things together got me thinking and I totally do the same thing with my food choices.  I limit myself as to my options, and as a result, I’m pretty happy with the way I eat… most of the time.

I literally eat the same thing for breakfast every day.  I also eat the same thing for lunch every day.  It’s a nice routine and I’m definitely not the sort of person who gets tired of things easily (obviously).

Plus, when I do want to switch things up a bit… I can.  I do actually have a couple of options of what to eat for breakfast.  Similarly, I have a couple of options as to what to eat for lunch.

The key word there is couple.

The key result there is this:  I rarely, if ever, feel dissatisfied with my breakfast or lunch.  In fact, I am unable to think of an incidence where I actually found myself dissatisfied with either.

What do I find myself dissatisfied with?  Dinner.  Hands down.  Dinner is where I change it up.  Dinner is where I try to be creative.  Dinner is where I usually slip up calorie-wise.  Dinner is where I could claim to be unhappy after a meal.

When I have fewer choices, I stay more on track and I feel happier/more content with what I’ve got.  Apparently it works with relationships too.

Who knew?  There apparently IS a recipe for success in life…. and it’s not a complex equation.. it’s simple subtraction.

Running is a strange beast

It might have been the coffee, the cool weather, the massage I had this past week or heck, even the alignment of the moon….

But, I had a fantastic four mile run yesterday.  Four miles.  This is farther than I’ve ever gone before.  Four miles.

It even felt easy… easier than it should have.

I’d originally programmed a workout into my Garmin but when I got to the park, it had mysteriously disappeared and I’m not sure what’s up with that.  After 30 seconds of trying to program one in using only the watch bit (you can totally do this if you have the patience of a saint) I decided I could watch the 5 minute warm-up time myself, monitor my heart rate myself and press the lap button on the thingy myself.

See how self-sufficient I am?

So lap 1 is my 5 minute warm up (note my slow walking pace, this is proof I am just a slow person by nature).

After I ran my first mile and as I realized I should be hitting my lap button, I realized I’d forgotten to take note of the distance when I’d started running and so I guesstimated where I’d started and so Lap 2 is just short of a mile.  In my opinion, that’s damn good for guessing.

I tried for negative splits.  You can see miles 2 and 3 are the same time so that sucks, but otherwise…woohoo!

Now here is the really cool bit.  I made sure to keep my heart rate in the same range as I ran last week’s 3 miler… but this time I wound up much faster… and you all know how much I love to be speedy!

I just can’t get over how easy it was to run 4 miles.  Right now I’m totally in love with my Garmin and the Marathoning for Mortals training plan because otherwise I’d have been killing myself to run those four miles.

Instead it was an incredibly enjoyable experience and I feel like a million bucks.

What’s Crack-a-lakin

Amidst oodles of fanfare (read: squeals of delight and me punching the shipping box to get it open – in my defense, the tape was being a pain) my Garmin Forerunner 305 came on FRIDAY.

THE BOX!!!!

There’s actually a camelbak in there too, it’s not that big of a box for just the Garmin, I swear.

The bags of air!!

Yes.  I was excited enough to take a photo of the air bags.  Yes indeed.

BEHOLD!  The Garmin!

My excitement was short lived as I found out I was supposed to charge the damn thing for 3 hours before turning it on.  Talk about a buzz kill.

So… I’ve been reading that Marathoning for Mortals book and I’ve decided to follow the plan for running a half marathon.  It’ll be a great way to get my mileage up and it’s a plan I think I can do.  And…who knows… maybe my 5K in November will be like a walk in the park.  Maybe I’ll blow my old time out of the water.  Maybe!!

Here’s the deal:  I have no idea what my maximum heart rate is.  Half the point of buying a Garmin was to be able to do my runs at a specific percentage range of my maximum heart rate.  The old calculation of 220 minus my age is bogus, too… at least for me.  I went out on Saturday for a 3 mile run which the book said to run at 60% – 75% of my maximum.  I calculated it out and programmed it into my Garmin which screamed at me the entire time because I was above my target heart rate even though the amount of effort I was putting into the run was minimal.  It was so easy.  Seriously easy.

My plan is to take the heart rate I had during that run at set that as my 60%.

Today’s run was 30 minutes at 65% – 75% of my maximum.

Dude.

I sorta kicked ass.  I mean…. I was really worried I wasn’t improving on speed at all but my average pace was right at 12 m/m which is totally fine by me… especially when I see I was running at 10 m/m for about half a mile!  I mean, seriously… I never had any idea I was running that fast.  Ever.  The only time I’ve run at that speed was on the treadmill and I hated the entire duration.

So yeah, I’ve got a nice smile on my face.  I know exactly when I was at 10 m/m because it kicked my butt but… whatever.

Don't make fun of my hairy arms.

So there you have  it… my current training plan, my new Garmin, my joy at my running pace… all in one little blog post.

Happy Labor Day!

Rumor has it…

Oh the joys of working in a high school.

Seriously.  The kids are great and I have a lot of fun teaching… but sometimes… sometimes it can be annoying.

For one, you’re always in the public eye.  I say it’s like being a pseudo-celebrity.  Everyone is watching.  Everyone is judging.  Only, I don’t have the wardrobe, money, or coolness factor which actually comes from being famous.

Oh, and people aren’t going out of their way to get my photograph (unless the yearbook staff counts).

So anyway.  Yesterday, being Friday and a Friday before a 3 day weekend (these long weekends have magical powers, yo) everyone was in high spirits.  I walked around the cafeteria during lunch to talk with students I had last year and to make some connections with students I currently have.  This isn’t something I do often… just in the beginning of the year when I still have a small amount of time which isn’t taken up by grading papers or modifying lessons.

I’m smiling.  I’m laughing.  I’m having a great time.  I really do love those teenagers…. and then… BLAM!

I heard she got liposuction.

Mmmhmm.  You read that right.

That’s what I hear.

That’s what I hear directly behind me.

That’s what I hear directly behind me ABOUT me.

My first response?  Absolute laughter.  I mean, lipo may work some miracles and stuff but what, did they think they hooked a suction tube up to my big toe and took a bit out of ….. everywhere?  And…. did they not see me gradually shrinking last year?  Really?  (This is actually a nice rumor compared with the one which said I was pregnant back when I gained weight.)

My second response?  HOT DAMN I must look goooooooood.  I mean.  People are noticing and talking about it and stuff.  I must look fiiiiiiiiine.

My third response?  What the %$&#!!  I worked hard for this dammit.  This didn’t happen surgically.  I worked my ass off, literally.  I’m still working my ass off.  I’ve been working my ass off for over a year now.  Now step back and respect my work!

And then I came here and told you guys all about it.

I mean… that kind of a rumor is just something you share.

I’m over the whole annoyed thing.  They’re kids and honestly, it’s a fairly nice rumor.  I even sort of like the idea of a little suction tube which could evenly suck fat out of my whole body and not just one area.

Liposuction:  Occurs gradually apparently.

I Scream… You Scream….We All…Say Goodbye?

I knew this day would come.

My love affair with ice cream has lasted a long time.  My first day at Curves, when asked what food I couldn’t live without… my answer, immediate and decisive was “ice cream.”

And the look on Ms. Size Zero’s face when she peered over her chart at me said “Hmm I hope you don’t wonder why you’re overweight.”

Ice cream and I go way back.  I remember college pity parties spent with a friend and a couple of pints of Ben & Jerry’s.  I remember celebrating fantastic events with blizzards or sundaes from Dairy Queen.

What’s not to like about ice cream?  It’s been so controlled during my diet.  My 150 calories of ice cream a day… the thing I claimed “kept me sane” and on the straight and narrow.  I eat my ice cream every day and then I don’t have the urge to binge on it.  (You know, like I did after Atkins when all I wanted in the world were some sugary goodness carbs?)

Only… ice cream is currently betraying me.  My little cone after dinner?  My 150 calories of super yummy goodness?  It’s begun to turn on me.  What once satiated my need for the creamy goodness now causes something a bit more sinister to occur.  Lately, I’ve been having my ice cream and then feeling something like this: omgomgIwantmore!  MORE!  Iwantanother!  Gimme Another!  I need more!  I deserve more!  I. Must. Have. More!

And, you see, I’ve given in a couple of times.  And, well, I know that’s not right.  And so, I’m beginning to wonder if maybe my ice cream isn’t triggering some sort of over-eating mechanism inside of me.  Or perhaps it’s making me crave stupid stuff (like more ice cream).

I don’t know precisely what it is.

I just know it’s got to stop.

And so I’m saying it right now… the words I never thought I’d utter (willingly, anyway).

I think I’m going to try to take a month off ice cream.

I just can’t justify eating something which makes me go so crazy.  There are alternatives.  I’ve got mango sorbet which makes me squeal with delight and which I seem to have self control around.  There’s chocolate, of which I have gobs in my freezer and seem to go days without thinking of touching.

And then of course, there’s the notion of having no sweets after dinner and breaking that stupid habit.

Whatever the case, there are alternatives and I know it.

I feel a bit like I did when I decided to quit smoking.  Something about it was making me feel dissatisfied and so I went with the feeling and maneuvered myself into quitting.  I may be far more addicted to ice cream than I ever was to cigarettes, but I think the concept is the same.  I need to run with this feeling of “woah, this isn’t right and I should do something about it” while I still can.

Besides, it’s just a month.  It’s not forever.  It’s a month.  If after a month I decide to eat ice cream again, that’s fine.  Hopefully I’ll be a less frequent ice cream connoisseur but if it’s daily again, well I hope I’ll at least have freed myself of the crazy craving for more which suddenly seems to be coming with it.

I can do this.

I can do this.

I can do this.

I can do this.

Screw you ice cream!