Trying to fix the me on the inside too...

Meg's post today got me thinking.

I think it's almost impossible to grow up with parents who were weird about what food they let you eat (like mine) and not be sneaky about food. For example, Mr. E's parents never gave a shit what he ate (and as far as I know he NEVER sneaks food, why would he?), while my parents were always watching what I ate, always checking up on me. I was very aware of what food was forbidden and I snuck it and I still do.

For me I think it has to do with a sense of shame, a sense of failure. At least now that I am a "grown up", for me it's not that I do or don't deserve to eat certain things in other people's minds, it's that I have failed at following a strict diet plan. I have given in, I have fucked up. I was less than perfect, I ate cookies, and I don't want anyone else to know.

I often make grandiose statements to Mr. E that I can't keep (like "I'm not going to bake anymore" or "I'm not eating any more crap") and then sometimes if he's feeling brave he will call me on it when my intentions fade and I cave and make cookies or want to go to the store to get ice cream. And I don't WANT to be called on it!

Really, it's not his fault, I set myself up for failure when I say things out loud like "I'm not baking any more". And I know he thinks he is trying to help me and that I want him to motivate me, but the reality is that I don't. Or maybe the reality is that being called on something you know you shouldn't do isn't motivating?

For example last night I pretty much tried to hide the fact from Mr. E that I was going to make chocolate cookies. Why can't I just say "Oh, ha, I know I said I wasn't making any more cookies or eating any more crap and I know that I'm going to be mad at myself come Friday morning but right now I want to eat cookies more than I care about losing weight".

I guess because then I would have admit out loud that I am being "bad", that I am failing, that I am NOT in control, that I am not following the rules, that I am fucking up and that I care more about eating than I do about being thin, and that when I have gained weight on friday it's my fault, and it's because I couldn't control myself, and it's not some random blip on the scale, it's because I fucked up.

Although it's interesting that I am so concerned with justifying it. Is it a self fulfulling prophecy? Did I make Mr. E feel like he had to say something because I was being sneaky? Why couldn't I just say "Hey, I'm craving cookies, and I have the points for them, I think I'll make some?"

Meg has me pegged. I don't believe I deserve treats. I think like a fat girl who deserves nothing more than to be castigated and punished, who can only have cookies if she justifies them or sneaks them, because everyone knows fat girls shouldn't eat cookies. More self loathing.

In my mind I need to lose ten pounds, so I don't deserve cookies, or anything really. When the reality is that I don't actually need to lose ten pouunds to be healthy, it's purely a personal thing at this point, and I could eat a cookie or two and it won't make a damn bit of difference. I want to have to lose ten pounds so I have an excuse to hate myself. I want to have to lose ten pounds so I never deserve the cookie. I want to have to lose ten pounds so I never have a normal cookie eating experience. Because not having to lose weight and not having to castigate yourself for eating cookies and not feeling guilty and terrible about eating treats means only one thing. The thing that scares me more than anything in the world.

Gaining weight.

Sigh.

Please, eat cookies in front of me, have I mentioned how good this water is?

I was working on a long post all about how losing weight and being mini skinny and a diet nazi wasn't going to get me what I wanted, wasn't going to make me any happier, how I need to learn to love myself and to accept what I've been given and blah blah blah. And then I hurt my ankle and I gained three pounds in a week where I tried so hard not to eat too much that I sat at my desk and STARVED for hours every day and had to press on my stomach so that people didn't hear my stomach growl and now I just feel hopeless. Like it was all for nothing. Now I just feel like my only choice is to not eat and to be unhealthy and I feel panicky and so afraid. I know that somehow there has to be a choice in between anorexia and marathon running but I'm having a hard time seeing it right now.
In the meantime, I'm hungry and my ankle hurts and honestly, I just want to lie in bed and cry. I can't explain how I feel. It feels like failure.

Priorities

Well, I insisted on running on my fucked up ankle last night, and now it's more fucked up than ever. The reality of is that I'm just trying not to think about it because I don't want to have realize how fucked up my priorities are. Because then I'd have to try to fix them, and I just don't want to right now. They SHOULD be:

1. Love Myself no matter what
2. Don't permanently fuck up my ankle
3. Run a half marathon
4. Don't get fat

but they ARE:

1. Don't get fat
2. Run a half marathon
3. Don't permanently fuck up ankle.

You'll notice love myself no matter what isn't even on the real list. I know that's not right, but I don't want to fix it if it means I'll gain weight. And I'm terrified of gaining weight but I'm just not in the fucking mood to freak out about this right now so for the next few days it's going to be a contest of my iron will over food.

I never thought I would be saying this but the idea of not exercising every night has me freaking the fuck out. It's my safety net. Without it I am lost. I am stressed out, crabby, and getting fatter by the minute (in my mind). I need my nightly run like I need a drug.

Bitchy Ankle

I could never be an elite runner, because I fucking hate icing shit. Right now I'm sitting at work with my space heater blasting on me and an ice bag rubber banded to my ankle at the same time. Having something icy and frozen attached to your sore ankle when you are already freezing your ass off bites. I hate being cold. I almost subscribed to Runner's World once and then I read this article about some woman who had run over 200 marathons and took two ice baths a day and "didn't even like hot baths anymore" and I almost started hyperventilating at the horribleness of it all and then Mr. E gently suggested that maybe one magazine a month (Martha Stewart Living) that drives me to panic attacks and tortured feelings of inadequacy was enough.

I refuse to be injured, I refuse. So far it's going well for me, as you can tell.

Lessons Learned, Eleven Miles Later

1. My official night before run meal needs to be spaghetti and meatballs. Rice doesn’t work, bread doesn’t work. Mr. E can get all up in my mix with his science talk about how all carbs are the same blah blah blah, but spaghetti and chicken meatballs works better than anything else at giving me energy the next day.
2. After much experimentation, I’ve now set my official before run breakfast at half a Carrot Cake Clif Bar, oranges, yogurt, and oatmeal with brown sugar and coffee with sugar. As much of it as I can eat. (I had about half or 1/3 of my oatmeal, three orange slices, and half the yogurt).
3. I officially love my Camel bak. SO much better than carrying a water bottle. I love love love it. I’m mad at myself that I waited so long to get it. Best 29.95 I ever spent. And no shoulder aching! Yeah!
4. The extra one hundred calories for an extra Gu are so worth it (I used two total). When I get that weird “hmmm” in the back of my head, I need to eat my Gu RIGHT THEN, rather than waiting for a preset mile marker to go past. And don’t make fun of me, but something about running along eating a Gu makes me feel like SUCH AN OFFICIAL RUNNER! I am hard core, ya’all! I am eating energy gel cuz I am running so damn far!!! I am a loser, I know it. But when that voice in the back of your head says “You can barely run four miles! You’ll never be able to run ten miles” and then work and work and work and lo and behold, one day you run eleven miles, well, you feel like you achieved something incredible and pulled some sort of con, all at the same time. And somehow the Gu thing makes me feel more like a real runner and less like a poser. I feel…proud of me. That is a rare feeling.
5. I need to run on a smooth (non gravel surface). My hip joints did hurt this week, but not so bad I couldn’t keep going. The pea gravel I ran on last week is deadly.
6. If something doesn’t work right, even if other people swear by it, keep trying other options. My best friend swears by Wrightsocks to prevent blisters, and they just don’t work for me. However, the Asics Kayano Extreme socks recommended by Runner’s World are the bomb! 11 miles and no blisters. Usually I have blisters from four miles. Love love love these socks. They are expensive, but totally worth it. Also, just in general, I really really really like Asics products. I have an Asics long sleeved running shirt that wicks and is the softest thing ever, and I love it.
7. Number One Lesson Learned? I had a terrible 10 miles last week. My worst run, ever, practically. I got so freaked out and depressed and stressed out after it that I didn’t even want to blog about it or think about it. Now I’m 99.99% certain it was because I went out running too fast. It didn’t even occur to me, for some reason, that I was just running too fast, especially at the beginning of my run. Maybe I am out of practice at this because I do so much speed work during the week and so much of it is on the treadmill and I am used to trying to make myself go faster, but that’s not the point of the long run. Even if it were, I’m not a fast runner, esp since I’m so short, and the only way I can get through long runs, especially ones I do outside, is to remind myself every 30 seconds to slow down. Yesterday I had my IPOD but I was really running to a constant mental soundtrack that went “slow down, slow down, slow down”. And it was awesome. I had a great great run. I felt tired afterwards, but a good tired. Like I could have run 2 more miles. Like I could run a half marathon if I wanted to.

13 miles, I’ll see you in two weeks. Full of spaghetti and ready to kick ass.

So True, IMHO

My experience is there's no way you can manufacture events and find the truth," Ms. Karr says. "Great memoirs don't take bizarre experiences and make them more bizarre and outrageous. They take bizarre experiences and make them familiar. That's the power."

Mocha Rewards

I'm having a really hard time focusing right now. I have ten pounds left to go. Part of me thinks maybe trying to lose weight while training for a half marathon is just too hard. Part of me is scared shitless that I'll never be happy at any weight. Part of me is scared shitless that I'm still fat and I just don't know it. And another part of just wants to be done with this and is terrified that I'll be doing this stupid diet forever and also part of my is very very tired of being hungry and thinking about food all the time. And the final part of me worries that my boring boring job is making me fat because I just sit here all the time and think about how much I want a mocha with whipped cream from Starbucks. Mostly I know that I could be trying harder. I've been cheating a lot and bullshitting myself about it and I haven't been counting points AT ALL.

I started ww two years ago on Valentine's Day. Always good to start things on holidays, then you are more likely to remember them. I'd really like to be done, or damn near done, on February 14th of this year. Depending on the scale, and on any given day, that's about eight pounds in five weeks. Which is totally doable, I think, if I can just get on a roll.

So my new goal is to not cheat, to not have any treats, to not have any extras I don't count, and to count EVERYTHING, ALL DAY LONG. If I do this for one week, from today until next Tuesday, I can have my tall nonfat mocha with whipped cream.

The problem is I really want my mocha right now.

Am bitter.

However, so far it's working. I have tracked every point today and I didn't cheat by not tracking my stupid clementine like I usually do. What can I say, I am going to be a star at maintenance. However I just have to make sure I don't think maintenance is easier than THIS because THIS IS MAINTENANCE. Clementines for a treat. How depressing is that?

E

Forever and Ever, Amen

I just ate chinese buffet for lunch. To which I can only say "blech." I don't consider it a fuck up, because I only had one plateful, and most of it was veggies, and I ate clean all morning and will all afternoon, and will eat a low points dinner, AND run five miles. And I didn't eat my egg roll because it was gross, etc.
AND it was a work thing that I simply could not get out of. And honestly, I can't do any diet or lifestyle where I can't eat at certain places everyone once in a awhile. Sometimes the chinese buffet is unavoidable and you have to use your mojo on it and not eat all of your egg roll.
But at the same time, I know it wasn't healthy, at all, and that sucks.

This weekend Mr. E was talking to his mom and she started to tell him her latest diet fad, which is to not eat any refined sugar or flour.
And Mr. E (good for him!) actually said "Mom, not to be mean, but that isn't going to work!" And she asked why not and he said "because the only thing that works is eating less and exercising more."

But it got me thinking. The real Number 1 diet secret ever? The real reason why the "no sugar" diet never works? And I really believe this. Before you start anything, ask yourself "Could I do this for the rest of my life?" If the answer is no, then it's not going to work! It might work temporarily, but it won't work forever. That's why so many Atkins or South Beach Diet people fail in the long run. You can't do something so extreme permanently.

So yes, I ate at the Chinese buffet, but NOT eating at the Chinese Buffet isn't something I could do for the rest of my life. It's not realistic.

It's too late to turn back now

I just bought my ticket to San Francisco for the half marathon weekend. I need to send in my registration, since it's due by the 19th, but even so, I have to go through with it now! I've never backed out of race before, and I don't REALLY want to now, but for some reason the finality of actually having a plane ticket is making me really nervous and stressed out.

The half is less than a month away, and my long runs are getting LONG (9 miles last weekend which SUCKED, every one of them), and I am getting NERVOUS. I actually started repeating "I think I can, I think I can" over and over again this weekend while I was running.

And also? Nine miles, people. I ran NINE MILES!!!! I have to turn it over and over in my mind to believe that it really happened, that I really did it. I RAN NINE MILES. Will wonders never cease?

I am trying to think positive. I know I can do it. And I will be running with my best friend of eighteen years and thinking about us crossing the finish line together puts a smile on my face every time :)

Cooking Light Review

Last night we had the Lemon Chicken Pita Burgers, and the Honey Glazed Carrots

The chicken was ok, but a tad bland. I think it would be good with some tzaziki sauce, or however you spell that, but as of right now I prefer Martha's turkey burgers and her chicken meatballs. The carrots, on the other hand, were HORRIBLE. As in, inedible. They just tasted like mushy carrots with honey. Very sad :( It could have been the honey, as the stuff we have is some rather strongly flavored french chestnut honey, but I've got to warn you, not good.
We also had the Chicken Paprikash on Tuesday night and it was also eh. I wanted it to be saucier and creamier.

Update on not gaining over Christmas plan: Failed. Gained five pounds. Am back on track now though. Have between 9-15 pounds to goal weight. Am slamming water in anticipation of Friday's weigh in, hoping to get back to 120. 125 is v. v. bad and has undone MONTHS of work in 12 days. Am sick and tired of dieting, must figure out how to make it go faster.