What is Up?

Did you expect me to say, "my weight"? I'm not even going there. Last week I kept track of my calories and exercise on The Daily Plate. While I did not eat and exercise like a champ, I did expect some sort of return on my investment. And instead I was rewarded with a half pound gain. You might think this would lead me to eat lots of holiday goodies to punish myself. And you would be right. But I felt really bad about it. And yes, I do realize how unhealthy it is to 1. punish yourself for gaining weight and 2. to do it with food, which makes absolutely no sense. I am back to searching for a blog or website to tell me exactly what I should do, even though I know what I should do. And it probably does not include Sonic. I read something recently that said the decision making part of our brain is in the same section with the willpower part so every decision we make lowers our willpower threshold. And I am clinging to that reasoning. I am also going to the doctor to have my thyroid checked (again). I have had my thyroid levels checked at least three times in the past couple years because I swear there is something wrong with me. My OB/GYN seems to think it's the natural byproduct of three children. I know my life is sometimes crazy and exhausting but I wake up tired and I actually fell asleep watching a movie last week. I have been reading a lot of information about hypothyroid and it seems some doctors are more aggressive about the levels than others. I plan to bring a list of my symptoms (hello, my blood pressure is a tad above zombie level and my temperature is consistently under 98) and I will insist that something is wrong and I want it to be fixed. Now. How awesome would it be to finally feel "normal" after three years of feeling like a different person. Maybe I'm not just lazy and hungry, maybe it's a "condition."

That is It!

When I stepped on the scale this week I was unpleasantly surprised to see I had gained even more weight. Maybe it's water. Maybe it's the ten hundred almond toffee bites from Costco. I don't know. I was all, "No you di-int," (or however you spell that) and the scale just sat there in stony silence. Lucky for me or we would be discussing my psychotic hallucinations instead of my insufferable struggle with the almighty pound. I said, "No more," to myself because everyone else was asleep. I fooled myself for a while and said I would focus on exercise and let the food thing follow. HA. Then I developed an excruciating case of sciatica and apparently I am growing older and my spine is collapsing. Or possibly something less dramatic. That's what it sounded like. I'm not usually one to avoid the doctor but for some reason I was cool with having a numb streak running down my leg and into my toes. Until I started thinking it might not be such a great thing to have for an extended period of time. So I had to bother my PT friend (I'm sure she's been mentioned on more than a few blog posts between me and Sara). She hooked me up with some sweet PT type things and she even rubbed my back for a little while. I feel bad I can only pay her with chocolate and hand me downs. At least it's not hand me down chocolate. Oh God, I just realized why I don't post at night. My mind is not as sharp a tack as it is in the morning fueled by three cups of coffee. So I'll end now. I sent in my registration for the Tri for the Cure. Hope it motivates me. I am the rare breed that is not entirely motivated by paying money for things. I figure it's already spent so... Must find Eye of the Tiger. Duh Duh Duh.

The Scale is Moving...

...in the wrong direction! OK perhaps the trip to Trader Joe's didn't help. I did eat a box of Candy Cane Joe-Joe's in two days. But waaahhh they're so good. I only bought one box though. One box per year. I call that moderation. I am beginning to feel angry and depressed about my weight and lack of motivation though. You would think walking 60 miles (and training to walk 60 miles) would burn off some weight. No, I added weight. Partially because I wasn't doing any other exercise during that time because I could barely walk after the long weekend walks. I had been training for a mini triathlon and when I stopped that the weight came back. I guess it requires constant vigilance. I have a lot of excuses for why but no solutions other than just starting back again. Starting back from scratch. I have a new training partner. He's a little hairy and slobbery but he enjoys going for walks (and no it's not my husband). We adopted a dog this weekend and he definitely requires walks to burn off some of his abundant puppy energy. So I figure I'll ease back into it with the walking. And I will say it here for all to see:

I am signing up for the Tri for the Cure sprint triathlon in April. I don't have to do it well, I just have to do it.

OK

I will not give up on this blog, since that seems like I'm giving up on my fitness efforts. And while it may look like that to the outside world, I have been working on my mental fitness. OK even I couldn't keep a straight face on that one. Seriously, walking 60 miles is hard. Training to walk 60 miles is hard. Trying to train for two events at once, not possible (for me). I have not been on Ruby (my beautiful road bike) for months. Mostly because I have pains in my back or hip. And because I'm a wiener baby. I plan to ask for a new bike for Christmas, yes another one, so I can ride comfortably on hard packed trails. I still have Ruby for speed and street cred. I just think it would help to actually ride. In other news, my friend (and co-conspirator on fitness projects big and small) is starting the Couch to 5K. I don't want to be left behind so I'm totally copying. I just hope we can jog one day like those skinny little biotches who breeze by gossiping and laughing while completing a 10 mile "fun" run. And just to make things really exciting, I am going to post my weight stats on the sidebar every week. Because I love public humiliation! If it's right there staring me in the face hopefully I won't be tempted to lose and then regain these 15 pounds. 15 pounds. That is a small child. On my ass. Not working for me.