G.I. Jane

A million years and at least 100 pounds ago, I pushed myself out of my comfort zone. I signed up for a boot camp.

I was terrible.

I guess you could argue that the very fact that I got up for this 5:30 a.m. boot camp made me not so terrible. At least I tried. For a little while, anyway.

I had such high expectations for that boot camp. I thought it would change my life. I pictured losing 50 pounds in a month. Becoming strong and invincible. Of course, none of that happened. My first day, I remember the instructor just yelling "Run!" I honest-to-God thought there might be danger of some sort. I mean, where was the easing into the program? Just run? No, thank you. I ambled up the hill, out of breath and miserable. By the time everyone finished, I was dead last.

There were a few of us who were in the back of the pack. Little by little each one dropped out. I was the last hold out, and eventually I quit, too. Hundreds of dollars and several early mornings down the drain.

 Fast forward from 2004 to 2012. This past weekend, I got an email from Groupon offering a month of fitness boot camp for $39. I don't know what came over me, but I bought it. Yay spontaneity.

I signed up for the 5:30 a.m. class and was thrilled when my best friend's fiancé decided to sign up, too. It's always best to go to these things with a buddy. Today was our first day.

When my alarm went off at 5 a.m., I seriously questioned what I had gotten myself into. I'm so not a morning person, and in my nervousness about today, I hadn't slept super well. Thanks to tips from my friend, Laura I laid out my clothes the night before, so getting ready, at least, was a breeze.

We meet at a local high school's football field. I walked tentatively from my car to the crowd gathered on the track, terrified that I would be least in shape person there, like I was last time.

After a brief orientation, we began our pre-assessment test. This consisted of push-ups, sit-ups, tricep dips, planks, and the scariest of all--running a mile.

Full disclosure--though I started running not long ago, I've kind of gotten off track (surprise, surprise). I got sick, went out of town and just kind of slacked off on my couch to 5K program. So I was freaking out about the run. The last time I ran a mile around a high school track, I WAS in high school. And that was a long time ago.

I set a goal for myself. A mile was four laps around the track. I committed to running at least one full lap. And for my personal satisfaction, I just wanted to not be last. Even if I were second to last, I'd be OK. Just not last. 

I'm happy to say I did much better than I thought I would. I did run an entire lap. After that, I'd walk half a lap and run half. I finished my mile in 12:54. By far the fastest mile I've ever completed. Here were my other stats:

In a minute: 

Assisted push-ups (on my knees. I didn't even try for the regular ones): 33

Tricep dips: 15 regular (legs straight out) and 20 assisted (legs bent)

Sit-ups: 22 (eh)

Bows and toes (holding a plank position): 47 seconds

Not too terribly bad. At the end of the four weeks, they'll test us again to see how we've improved. And unlike the last boot camp I tried? I plan to actually be there.

Scale or nonscale?

Every Tuesday, our leader Dee opens our Weight Watchers meetings the same way:

"Do we have any scale or nonscale victories to celebrate?"

Scale victories are obvious. My fellow members will say "I got rid of 2.5 pounds this week." And we all cheer and clap. Scale victories are awesome.

Nonscale victories take on a wide range. "I worked out every day last week." "I avoided the tortilla chips when I ate at a Mexican restaurant." "I got into a smaller size." Nonscale victories can be awesome, too.

Quite frankly, it's been a while since I've had a scale victory. And lately, it's been difficult to find my nonscale victories, too. So when I'm feeling like this, I try to remember how far I've come. Here's something that recently reminded me of that.

The best part about my older apartment complex is the pool. It's a lovely, two-story, lagoon-style pool with waterfalls and a little island in the middle. I remember when I first moved in, thinking how nice it would be if I felt comfortable enough to hang out there during the summer.

I spent a little time there last summer, always on the lookout for the place where I'd be most hidden. I'd certainly never get chatty with anyone. And I'm a chatty person.

This year, though, as soon as the weather was warm enough, I was out there. Talking to people, meeting my neighbors. A few weeks ago, I spent two hours talking to a guy and we exchanged numbers to hang out for future pool time. No, it wasn't like THAT (don't get excited), but it made me think of how much I tried to hide myself before. And how much more true to myself I am by not hiding.

On the beach during Memorial Day weekend. Yeah, I'm posting a bathing suit picture. I'm calling that a nonscale victory.

It isn't so much that I look any different than last year, but I think I've come to a place of acceptance with where I am right now. It's not where I want to be forever. But it's also not where I was. 

And I'd say that's a nonscale victory. Right?

I know I've been sporadic at best. Thank you to those of you who have checked in on me. While I know I've said it before, I promise to be better about blogging. From now on, twice a week. No exceptions. Hold me to that, OK?

Juicy juice makes me less than 100 percent

Hi all. So I know I keep apologizing for slacking. I really need to figure out a schedule of blogging and stick to it. Every Tuesday and Thursday, perhaps? I'll work on that.

Today is a good day. Why? Because I'm eating food. And food is good.

It turns out I'm a bit of a masochist. Sunday morning, I started the Arden's Garden two-day juice detox. Did I mention that Sunday I was at the Ronald? Yeah. See? Masochist.

I did this detox two other times--both years ago, when I was desperate to lose weight and hoping for something to kick-start me into being serious about it. This time, I did it less for the weight loss and more for the mental aspects of it.

Because I've been feeling a little out of control lately, I thought that doing the juice fast would remind me that I do, in fact, have self-control. Two days of juice and water only is a mental test I needed.

I brought my trusty gallon of juice to the Ronald and started drinking it Sunday morning. The juice is just distilled water with fresh grapefruit, lemons and oranges. There's no sweetness to that stuff. But it's not terrible. I went downstairs and someone was cooking bacon. I went back upstairs.

The first day wasn't bad. I was not tempted to eat any of the goodies at the House, though I did stay out of the kitchen for the most part. Sunday night, our meal donors brought way too much pizza. I had to put it all away, storing the slices in freezer bags. I stayed strong.

I slept super hard Sunday night and woke up with a monster headache Monday morning. I remember the first time I did this fast, at about 2 p.m. the second day, I got this total feeling of euphoria. I never wanted food again. I felt so good.

I didn't get that feeling this time. I had a perpetual headache and felt overall pretty tired. I woke up this morning feeling much better, though. Maybe because I knew I could eat real food. Plus, I did lose a few pounds, so that's something.

I'm hoping to take the effects of the detox and stretch them out for the next few weeks. I'm hoping this is the jump-start I so desperately need. As always, I'll keep you guys posted.

Quizzical

I'm sorry I've been MIA for a bit. I've been swamped and a bit under the weather. Today, I thought I'd do something fun--a little food quiz. I hope you'll play along in the comments.

1. What do you purchase during every trip to the grocery store?
Laughing cow cheese, Diet Coke, chicken breasts and, duh, cauliflower

2. What is one food you can't keep in your house for fear of overeating?
Crackers, bread and chips (OK, that's more than one, but...)

3. What would be your last meal if you were on death row?
Grilled cheese and tomato soup

4. What's a food you hated as a kid but love as an adult?
Asparagus

5. What's a food you loved as a kid but wouldn't touch as an adult?
Bologna, liverwurst (seriously) and sardines


6. What's a food you hated then and still hate now?
Cooked carrots

7. What's a food you loved then and still love?
Mashed potatoes (sadly) with corn

8. What's the one food you wish had no calories so you could eat as much as you wanted?
Pizza

9. What is the dish you make when you try to impress people?
Pork tenderloin

10. What was the meal your mom made you for special occasions (birthdays, etc.)?
Chicken Kiev

Your turn! Post your answers in the comment section. 

Service hours

Last weekend I was at the Ronald.

Should I even talk about it? Sigh.

Apparently students at some of the local private schools had to turn in their service hours Monday. And what's an easier last-minute service project than making baked goods for the families of the Ronald McDonald House? (Did I mention the sigh?)

I was already feeling a little down last weekend. Though I tried as hard as I could to avoid the cupcakes, brownies, cookies and muffins, I...well, just didn't.

Here's a picture of the counter on Saturday afternoon (we got even more donations Sunday).

I mean, seriously?

If the kids called to ask if they could drop stuff off, I told them no. But there wasn't much I could do about the ones who just showed up.

I'm not proud of how I acted. BUT. I did get up Monday morning and do my first day of my third week of Couch to 5K. This week, I have to run for three minutes at a time. I never thought I'd make it. But I made sure to ignore the countdown clock and just run until I was beeped at to stop. And I made it! I'm not sure I've ever been so proud as when I finished my initial three minutes.

So, as usual, I'm up and down. Weight-wise, emotion-wise and food-wise. But I'm still hanging in there. And sometimes that's all I can do.

The distraction of running

So, as I told you last week, my Weight Watchers weigh-in was less than ideal. Three weeks of overeating took its toll and I was up 6.8 pounds.

Last week I tried to take on a new outlook. I've been running (more on that in a second) and trying to stay within my allotted WW points every day.

Today I weighed in with a little success. I was down 3.6 pounds from last week. I'm feeling better.

Now. About that running thing. As I mentioned, I've been working the Couch to 5K program, which gradually trains you to run a 5K. I'm now almost finished with my second week, which consists of a 5-minute warm-up walk, followed by cycles of 90 seconds of running, then 2 minutes of walking.

For someone who is not a runner, 90 seconds of running is hard. Hard. But the great thing I discovered is that my time on the treadmill or outside is the only time I'm able to get out of my own head and forget the things that have been dragging me down.

Because the whole time, all I can think of is how much I hate running. There are no thoughts of broken hearts, work stress, to-do lists or other worries. I'm just driven by hate. That's kind of working for me.

But something else follows that hate--an unbridled sense of accomplishment. As soon as that little app beeps at me and tells me I'm done running, I'm proud--fiercely proud. I just ran a full minute and a half! I RAN!

As it continues to get harder (I think next week I have to run for three minutes straight), I'm determined to just try my best.

It's all I can do, right?

For now, here's a super attractive picture of me post-Silver Comet trail. Proof that I'm trying. Yay for German-Irish pink skin!

Damage control

The damage has been done.

Today, I tucked my tail between my legs and headed back to Weight Watchers. It's been three weeks since I showed my face in a meeting. Three weeks of terrible eating. Three weeks of old Erika rearing her ugly, sad head.

I knew it would be bad. I was right. I gained 6.8 pounds.

There it is. The number in black and white, now written for all eternity in my Weight Watchers weight log.

But things are looking up--at least a little. I'm trying to climb my way out of the dark. Saturday I went to the Silver Comet Trail and started (in earnest this time) the Couch to 5K program. I did my second day yesterday and faced one of my biggest fears--running on the treadmill (I can walk on a treadmill all day long, but with running, I have a fear of  tripping and flying off the back--I managed to stay upright, at least).

For the past two days, I've tracked my food diligently. So, I'm trying.

I was saying today in my Weight Watchers meeting--and I may have blogged about this before--that there was a time in my life where food served its purpose. Maybe my compulsive overeating protected me in some ways when my mom died. Maybe it stopped me from doing other things to harm myself. I don't know.

What I do know is that overeating no longer makes me feel better. It no longer comforts me. It makes me feel worse--physically and emotionally. And right now, I just don't need anything to make me feel worse.

I'm trying to remember that when I want to swing by Zaxby's, or pick up a Big Mac. Those things will not help me feel less sad.

And this too shall pass.