I Can't Complain

I Think That Wizard Kid Lives Up the Street

You know the one... he has that funny scar on his forehead....

I know what you're saying.... "Why would a British wizard be living in Columbia, South Carolina?  And if he did live in Columbia, why on earth would he live in YOUR crazy neighborhood?  And why I am I even reading this crazy blog?!"

But I KNOW it's true.  This morning when I was out running in the dark of night, in the inferno that is a Columbia summer, all of the street lights on the block went out simultaneously. Then a few minutes later, they came back on, one by one, as if someone had used a Deluminator on them. 

See....?  What else could it be? It's Occam's razor, folks... the presence of a British wizard living in the southeastern United States is clearly a far more simple explanation than a power brown-out (or running-in-the-heat-related demential)? Right?

I know, it's so cool. Try not to be envious, mkay?

On Five O'Clock in the Morning

This morning I got up and did something different - I ran. Without anyone even chasing me.  Okay, to be fair, I ran for 30 seconds, walked for 90 seconds, ran for 30 seconds, walked for 90 seconds until I'd been in motion for 20 minutes and circled the block half a dozen times.  Those of you who actually run for fun (though frankly,, right at this moment I'm having a hard time believing anyone finds this fun) may recognize this as the first week's intervals in a couch to 5K program. 

Honestly, I don't think I really qualify as "couch" material (but if I were, I'd be a nice chintz, I think).  I work out pretty regularly and rigorously, and my cardio health is quite good.  But I was getting a little bored with the same old, same old every morning, and a nagging shoulder injury has sort of sidelined me from my usual stuff, so I decided to give running a try.

Let me just say, I am so not a runner. I am possibly the least graceful person on the face of the earth.  I trip over lines painted on the sidewalk and have been known to fall over while standing still. And we won't count the number of times I've hit the corner of my desk, despite the two-and-a-half feet of clearance between it and the wall.

But this isn't about my running or my lack of grace. It's about 5:00 AM.  Now, I am no stranger to 5:00 AM - I get up most weekday mornings at 5:00 AM and work out.  In the comfort and safety of my living room. Five AM out in the mean streets of my 'hood is completely different. 

First off, it's dark. No, really...I mean, yes, it's always dark when I get up to work out, but in my living room, I have a lamp and a TV on. Oh sure, there's street lights, and an inordinate number of my neighbors leave their porch lights on all night, but still... it's nighttime. It's dark.

Also, apparently 5:15 AM is the time to run your automatic sprinklers in my neighborhood.  I didn't even realize so many of my neighbors HAD sprinklers. On the bright side, hearing that telltale sputtering, just before you get nailed with a shot of cold water certainly does get your adrenaline going.

And spider webs! Don't those damn spiders have anything better to do than build webs across the sidewalks in the middle of the night? Shouldn't they be asleep or something? Geez.

The sidewalk is also completely different in the middle of the night.  When you're walking along it on the way to the park, all those cracks and bumps are insignificant. When you're running in the dark while being pelted with water and fighting off giant spiders, they seem like Mt. Everest and the Grand Canyon.

Finally, and this has nothing whatsoever to do with the time of day, but I really need to get a better playlist if i'm going to keep doing this running thing. This morning I just set it to my 25 most played, and found myself running to selections from Whaddaya Think of That?  Which is a fine album, for sure, but not what I want to be running to at 5:00 in the morning.

 

I Can't Complain (But Sometimes I'm Still Blue)

I've been feeling pretty blue lately, for a variety of reasons, but as my husband has pointed out, I really have very little to be unhappy about. Which isn't to say I think that only people with "real" problems are allowed to be sad or unhappy, but I do think it's good to remind one's self of the good things once in awhile, just to keep everything in perspective. With that in mind, in no particular order, I bring you a few things that make me happy:

1. A sleeping Bomber.  Aside from the fact that he doesn't talk (much) while he's asleep, when he's asleep, I can still see the tiny infant he once was - in the expression on his face, the way he still holds his hands in his Han-Solo-Meets-Carbonite pose, and the tiny bit of drool running down his chin. Awake, he's all little boy who knows everything, but asleep, he's still my baby. 

2. Larry. He's all kinds of awesome. I don't know what I can say that doesn't sound ridiculously sappy, but I got seriously lucky when I met him.  He's cute, funny, understanding, thoughtful, a good father, an awesome partner, and the only person I can even imagine spending the rest of my life with.  He puts up with me when I'm moody and unpleasant, and tries to make me smile when I'm down. Yeah, he's a keeper.

3. Donuts. I really like donuts. I used to be fairly apathetic toward them.  I mean, I'd eat one and enjoy it, but I didn't have any particular love for them.  When I was pregnant, though, I craved them all the time, and the craving stayed with me afterwards.  Since almost five years has now passed, I figure the craving's not going away, so I might as well just embrace them. Figuratively, of course, since embracing donuts literally would be kind of sticky. But actually, it might also be kind of nice...mmm.... donuts...mmmm.... wait, what was I saying? *ahem*

4. The Money Eating House.  Not only am I grateful to have a roof over my head and the means to afford it, but I am especially grateful for the MEH in particular.  Yes, it eats money. A lot of money.  But there's nothing like walking on floors  that have been there for 106 years and wondering who else's feet have walked there, or shoving open a window and thinking about someone throwing the same window open in the spring of 1906 or so, and  taking in a deep breath of sweet-smelling southern air. So even though the walls aren't plumb, the windows aren't level, and nothing is either a standard size, nor the same size from one room to the next, I wouldn't choose to live anywhere else. 

5. Exercise.  Yeah, I have to get up at 5 AM to do it, but there's nothing like a great workout (or really, even a bad workout) to give your day a boost - even if you do nothing else that day, you've already accomplished something at the end of your workout.  And it can be motivation for eating healthy (why ruin all that work you dragged your butt out of bed at the crack of dawn for) or justification for eating something "bad" (hey, I worked out! I can have a donut! mmm....donuts....mmmmmm.....wait, what was I saying?)

6. Margaritas. Larry makes really good ones. I mean, REALLY good ones.  I could tell you the recipe, but then I'd have to kill you.  They're that good. He mixed up a post-rapture-five-year-old-birthday-party recovery batch this weekend, and they were TAY. STEE. And there's still some in the 'fridge...

So, there you go. Half a dozen things that make life pretty great. A lot of the stuff that's got me down is still there and getting me down, but I truly do have nothing to complain about (though I reserve the right to continue to do so), and lots of stuff to be happy about.

Wordless Wednesday: Five in the Morning

Bless Me Father, For I Have Dieted

I have a small confession to make. I've been on a diet. Okay, okay, it's not a diet. It's a "lifestyle."  Or so sayeth the nice people at Weight Watchers. But regardless of what you call it, I've lost 17.5 lbs since May 4. I was originally only shooting for 15 lbs., but I've decided to go for 20, which will put me at my lightest weight since college. More importantly, I feel better and I'm in much better physical shape. Plus, I'm down two clothes sizes.

People that know in me real life have been very surprised when I tell them. (Not that I've been running around announcing it, but people have started to notice.) I wasn't what anyone would call overweight, and I've always tried to dress to flatter whatever shape I am.  But I could feel myself slowly creeping up to a size and shape I didn't want to be. When I started this journey back in April, I was the heaviest I'd ever been, other than while pregnant, and the largest size I'd ever worn, and even that was starting to be tight.  So when a friend started doing Weight Watchers with her mom, and then another started doing it with her husband, I decided that was a sign I couldn't ignore, and I jumped on board, too.

And while I was kind of making a joke of the WW "it's not a diet, it's a lifestyle" thing, there really is a lot of truth to it. The counting points kind of appeals to my inner geek, especially since I can do it on the computer, but more importantly, I've definitely developed a feel for how much a portion of food should be (as opposed to how much a restaurant serves you, for example), realized that there's lots of simple changes I can make for my family that will make a huge difference in our overall health (swapping regular pasta for whole wheat, for example), and learned that sometimes when you think you're hungry, you're really just thirsty (or bored).

The most important thing, though, is that it got me motivated to start working out again regularly. Earning those activity points, even though I've never used them, alway makes me feel like I've really accomplished something for the day. Plus, after 6 weeks of the 30 Day Shred, I'm starting to see definition in my arms, legs and abs. In short, I like the way I look again. And so does my husband. *nudge nudge, wink wink*

Anyway, if a picture's worth a thousand words, these should be worth at least 17.5 lbs...

Back in April, these were my favorite, most comfortable pair of work pants. They were also the largest size I've ever worn, and fit just right, drifting toward a teeny bit snug.

 

 

Now I can pull them down over my hips without unbuttoning them. I'm still wearing them, but I'm running out of holes on my belt, and they're really starting to bunch up oddly in the back. It might be time for a new pair, huh?

These pants are a size smaller and fit me a little tightly when I bought them, but got progressively tighter and tighter until by April I could only wear them with a jacket that covered them to below my hips:

 

It's a shame I couldn't get a better picture, because these pants were insanely tight across the hips when I started WW, and now they won't stay up (and sadly, have no belt loops). Right now I wear them with safety pins, but even that's becoming difficult.

These next pants are a size smaller than the previous ones, and two sizes smaller than the first ones, and they haven't fit me in years. (You can see by the pleats how old they are.)  They belong to a suit I couldn't bring myself to toss out or give away, so they've been hanging forlornly in the closet, hoping to see the light of day again:

 

I don't know that I'll ever wear them again (they are, after all, pleated), but I totally could. They're completely comfortable, the pleats lay flat like they're supposed to, the pockets don't bulge and the button buttons no problem. 

So there it is. Not very exciting as confessions go, I realize. I'll try to think up something more prurient for the next one, okay?

Party Like It's 1983

Since the new year started, I've been getting up pretty much every weekday morning and working out.  I have a couple of old favorite videos I do, but this morning I decided since it was Friday I'd do something fun.  With that in mind, I loaded up my Roku with a video called "Fat Burning Dance Party."  That sounds fun, right? It's a workout! It's a party! Really, what could be MORE fun?

Well, tooth extraction without anesthesia comes to mind...  Seriously, I have been doing aerobics in various forms, at home and in gyms for 15 years, and I was completely flummoxed by the steps in this workout. I get that it was supposed to be dance moves modified to be exercise, but I still thought I'd be able to do at least SOME of this on the first try.  When the little bit of a thing leading the class finally said "grapevine" about 20 minutes into it, I almost wept with joy. Grapevine! I know this one! I can do it!

Unfortunately, the grapevine quickly morphed into some funk move my feet refused to do. And we won't even discuss trying to get my arms to the cutesy moves she insisted went along with it. The only explanation I can come up with is that immediately before I started this video, I had some sort of minor stroke which damaged the Fat Burning Dance Party Moves pathway between my brain and my feet. Luckily, I can't see that I'll be needing that portion of my brain again anytime soon.

And while I'm on the subject of exercise videos... who dresses the people in these videos? Earlier this week I did a new kickboxing video, and woman assigned to do the easier modifications was dressed in capri-length khaki cargo pants with a brown braided leather belt, and a cropped t-shirt. I guess she got the easier moves because she wasn't actually part of the crew making the video. She'd just wandered in off the street on her way back to the 80s. In today's dance party debacle, there was one woman dressed in bell-bottom jeans and a vest. Perhaps she was hoping they might do a quick round of YMCA between the Latin section and the funk.  Another woman in the same video was wearing camouflage pants.

Actually, maybe camo isn't such a bad idea. Then the next time I do this video, at least I'll be sure no can see me while I'm tripping over myself trying to get my mambo on.

Well Pass the Fried Twinkies, Then!

I recently had a bunch of blood work done for a life insurance application, and I have to admit I was a teensy bit worried about my cholesterol levels.  I mean, I work out semi-regularly and I generally eat pretty healthy stuff, but I have been know to have a couple scoops of Haagen-Dazs Dulce de Leche now and again.  And the occasional meal of chicken strips and french fries.  And we can't forget (as much as I'd like to) my recent real (as opposed to baked) potato chip thing. (By the way, Wonder Twin, I blame you for that one.). And maybe some other stuff I shouldn't be eating *might* have found its way into my mouth...

Apparently I was worried for nothing.  My serum cholesterol came back as 149, my HDL level (that's the good stuff) was 78, my LDL level was 69 and my triglyceride level was 98.  It must the French Paradox - I knew we were drinking all that red wine for a good reason. Vive la France!

Is It Possible to Have Three Left Feet?

This morning I decided I was finally bored with kickboxing, so I pulled out a video that never got much use, even during my exercise heyday, when I got up every morning and did something different every day.  Halfway through the workout I remembered why I didn't do this one much - it requires WAY too much coordination for 5 AM, especially for someone who is not exactly grace personified.  There is one spot in the workout where I can either do the arms or the legs, but not both, at least without risking serious bodily injury.  Honestly, I'm not sure anyone who isn't either an aerobics instructor or a green bendy guy with a slanted head could do both. 

On the bright side, this workout does include my most favorite of exercise moves.... GRAPEVINE!

Turn Me Loose

One of the more annoying things about getting up at 5 AM to work out (aside from the obvious "getting up before dawn has even considered cracking" thing) is that in order to avoid waking H prematurely, I have to bring all my workout stuff down to the downstairs bathroom the night before.  My hair is currently long enough to be annoying without being long enough to put in a ponytail, so I normally put this 80's Loverboy headband on to keep it out of my face while I exercise. 

This morning I realized I'd forgotten the headband in my pile of gear and there was nothing on the first floor of the house that would hold my hair out of my face. (And for anyone who might be considering it, chip clips with magnets attached DO NOT make good hair clips.) So I did my entire workout with my hair flopping annoyingly in my eyes.  I tried holding it back a couple of times, but you really can't do kickboxing and hold your hair at the same time. Because that would more like kickholding. Which isn't nearly as good a workout.

And while I'm on the subject, I think I'm allergic to exercise.  This morning I got all itchy while I was working out, and then when I was finished I sneezed about 20 times in a row.  Maybe I should just get a doctor's note giving me permission to never exercise again.  If only I could also get a doctor's note telling my butt not to increase any further.

Jab, Jab, Cross!

This morning I worked out for the first time since I was 20 weeks pregnant and was admitted to the hospital.  I literally think the last time I worked out was that morning.  After that episode the OB told me no more exercising, and then H was here and waking up every three hours, and then he slept in our room until he was 8 months old, and then... well, then I ran out of excuses but I still didn't get my lazy butt out of bed.  Last Monday I tried to do it, but I woke H up and seemingly touched off four days of horrible sleep for him.  But this morning, I finally did it.  And man, I am OUT of SHAPE.  I did what used to be my easy workout (Kathy Smith Kickboxing), and I was dragging and huffing by the end of it.   I feel great now, though, and I was WAY more efficient in my morning routine, since I'd already been up for an hour.