So, I had it all planned out. I would drop my daughters off at their respective schools and I’d have the morning to workout and write at a coffee shop, by myself.
Oh, bless you who invented preschool.
Of course, it didn’t work that way. My older woke me at 3am with stomach pain and I was up with her for a good hour. She woke at 645a with the same problems and as I watched her sit in her chair, her legs drawn up to her stomach, I thought, “Well, so much for my day of being alone.” Then I wanted to do nothing but eat my stress away with a good donut (or two or a dozen) and a venti mocha, but I’m proud to say I didn’t. Honestly, I didn’t think it was appropriate to take my sick daughter through the drive through at Krispy Kreme when she’s had stomach cramps for the past seven hours and tell her she can’t have anything. Plus, I told myself I really didn’t need it or even want it. The want for those things was simply a reaction to my day being changed, to the stressor of the alteration of the schedule.
Instead, I still got work done, had my own coffee, and took care of my daughter at home.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my children and I know they would prefer not to be sick, but it’s frustrating when they are sick and I’ve got so many things to get done. I didn’t have any grand illusions that motherhood would be a cakewalk or that if I fed my kids spinach everyday by the time they were eight months they would never get sick, but I’m amazed how often they get sick on days I’ve got deadlines. It’s like they some sort of radar or something. It’s that or it’s the “Mommy is lonely at home so I think I’ll get the stomach flu or pink eye or a fever so she’ll feel better.” Of course I know that’s complete crap, they’d rather be playing at school with their friends and doing art work. 
None the less, I stayed on track and now, I’m very glad for it. I’ve started with the symptoms of stomach flu as well.
How fun for all of us!

Okay, like a million other women on the planet, I’ve gone to see Eat Pray Love. I’m half way through the book and I keep reading about Italy because of the food entries and I’ve come to a conclusion. 
I love food, I love preparing it, feeding my family, the gatherings around a table or at a coffee shop. I love everything about the process of food and all associated with it.
I love food and after watching the movie, I’ve discovered that loving it is a good thing.

Here’s a clip of Liz (Julia Roberts) and Sophie (Tuva Novotny) are talking about eating and guilt associated with it:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JsfuieyrJNc]

And they’re right. Why are we pushed to eat when we’re young, as we’re growing, and expected to clear our plates as a sign of appreciation, only to be told “not too much” or “you shouldn’t eat that” when we get to the marrying ages? It’s as though our grandmothers, mothers, aunts, and anyone else who cooks pushes food at you and tries to pull it away at the same time. No wonder people are confused about food. No wonder so many are obese (including myself) because it’s seen as an all or nothing thing. Since when is eating, enjoying a meal supposed to be all or nothing?
Are we supposed to eat or not? Are we supposed to enjoy it or not? No matter what we like to eat versus what we eat to stay healthy (or not), why can’t we simply enjoy, love it? Savor the flavors and the company, embrace the memories of all of it without this constant floating of guilt all around us? That little voice whispering “you shouldn’t eat that, you’ll get (stay) fat” or “you should order the side salad with lemon and bowl of tree bark.”
AHHHHHH! It’s all so frustrating because I do enjoy a healthy meal even more than an unhealthy one, but let me specify what I mean by healthy. One where I didn’t glutton myself, where I ate and actually tasted the food, I didn’t shovel it into my mouth. I have great conversation–this could be with a group of friends or my daughter over a PB&J–but the time I spent was well worth the food. Yes, I have eaten to be gracious, to be grateful, and to be gluttonous. I’ve eaten because I’m bored, scared, excited, or it’s a day that ends in “y”, but I can’t honestly say, there are probably no more than a handful of times I’ve eaten and actually enjoyed the food alone.
Does this mean I’m done with watching what I eat or am planning on throwing the healthy plan out the window? Not at all. In fact, I think it’s helped me realize that there’s nothing wrong with enjoying the moment where you actually taste the food. Just know the difference between eating something for the sake of eating it and enjoying it.
I think enjoying it will help me eat slower and take more pleasure from the entire process of feeding my body.
Well, it sure sounds good. I’m hoping some of this philosophy actually sticks past today.

I’m excited! I’ve not hit the exercise hard yet and I’ve dropped 5 pounds and 2% body fat. To think what’s going to happen when I start up the marathon training tomorrow. The possibilities are huge (excuse the pun).
I’m so ready to be a good 20 pounds less. I think I could really move so much better and I’m ready not to be the heaviest one in the room. Last week, my girls and I were walking and my older said “hey look mommy, we’re walking from biggest to smallest. And if Daddy were here, we could walk from bigg…tallest to smallest.” Since Steve and I have been together, I’ve always weighed more than he does. What a difference it would be if I weighed less. I’m not sure how to even wrap my head around it, but what a great possibility.
Now, I just have to keep doing the work, keep the momentum going and that’s always been the hard part.

Tonight at Kung Fu, I really felt so much better about my technique and form. I’m actually looking forward to it more and more and hopefully, I’ll get to test for my belt here soon. My goal would be to test by my birthday, which is a mear seven weeks away. Even though I am by far, the largest female in class, I know I won’t be come six months from now. My reflection can be quite distracting, but I have to keep telling myself to inch forward everyday. Standing on the scale tonight, sooner than I promised myself, but thankfully, the results came back happy.

I can’t believe I’ve done this. I signed up to run in the Rock N Roll Marathon– the Alamo in November. In 12.5 weeks, I’m supposed to be able to finish 13.1 miles in one day, preferably in less than 5 hours. I got caught up in the free t-shirt that was offered if you signed up through John Bingham‘s runner’s site.
What does MacBeth say “What’s done is done?” And now I’ve gone and done it (not meaning to quote Shaina Twain) and I’m officially freaking out.
To calm my nerves, I’ve done the math. If I walk 4 mph, I can finish it in less than 4h. That’s comforting, but what’s not is after walking 2 miles right now in quick time (4mph right now for me) isn’t all that enjoyable, but it could be in 12.5 weeks.
Still, it’s a very scary place to be, the jumping off point.
But what do they say? One way to learn is to jump in the deep end of the pool?
No matter if the pool is shallow or deep, you’re leaving yourself to chance when you jump. Being out of control, flying through the air, not sure where you’ll land is exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.
To help, I’ve got an incredibly patient friend, Sarah, who’s been encouraging me along in this. I crapped out on her a couple of weeks ago, feeling too overwhelmed to get up at 545a and walk for an hour. I was annoyed I was so behind (literally and mentally) than everyone else who was meeting up. The beginning runners and walkers are far faster than I am. I’d finish, but I’d feel like the third wheel, the one everyone was waiting on to catch up.
I can’t blame my dogs, whom I brought with me, because they trot along faster than I was running. It’s simply a mass issue. I weigh too much and it’s slowing me down. Getting even 5% of the weight off will help, it’s just getting there without feeling deprived for food or insane from exercise and no sugar.
My best friend, Seana, is also working her ass off, literally. She’s one of my accountability buddies and although she lives 3000 miles away, she’s working hard to get healthy. She encourages me, I her. We applaud each other’s accomplishments, tell each other the world won’t end when we screw up and eat a bar (or two) of chocolate.
To confess, I’ve not really worked out since the 90 challenge began. I told myself I would start as soon as I got the workout sheets and printed the half marathon training out.
That was this morning and I’ve not yet sweat, but I have eaten well and stayed well within my healthy choices. It’s a start, but tomorrow, the sweating (and pain) begins.
I’m ready to jump now.

Well, after watching Melissa and Rick Lawson’s Tony Robbins Breakthrough on Hulu last night, things began to make sense to me. I spent a good part of my night realizing a few things.
When did I become afraid of succeeding? Was it when I knew I’d be financially okay, when I stopped worrying about job security, or when I met the man of my dreams? Maybe being afraid of success is harsh, maybe I simply got lazy or comfortable. Whatever the reason, I’ve found that I’ve done a very good job of keeping myself from making progress. How easy it’s been to simply pile on more and more things to do, things that may not make any difference in my life or help move my life forward. These obligations have hindered me from doing many things, specifically being present.
Something that kept being said repeatedly on the show last night is Melissa had trouble being present, both physically and spiritually. She’d focused on the dream of music when her family fell apart. She lost the focus and things became too out of balance.
Makes sense. It seems as mothers we’re expected to keep everything in check and when we do that and have a career, we’re superwomen. Anything less, we’ve got more work to do.
I realized I’d make very little true attempt to get control of my eating. That I’d used the lack of will power to justify my eating/weight problems. I’d not been present enough to myself because I’d allowed myself to be distracted by all this other crap.
What an eye opener–in only 42 minutes (length of the show), I’d realized how wrong I’d approached my health for so many years.
As I fell asleep last night, I started to trim my obligations and woke this morning feeling more focused and refreshed.
It’s a great start.

I’m fat, 40, and frustrated. I’ve interviewed many people who have been successful in their transformations. They are inspirational, but it didn’t keep me motivated enough to stay on track. 

I’ve met Bob Greene, twice. Certainly, one of the biggest fitness gurus in the world could offer me enough incentive to completely resist the urge to eat sugar ever again after talking with him. No such luck. This was after he told me that only 10-15% of people who begin a workout routine or start a path to wellness actually finish it. I decided I’d be part of the elite 10-15% of people–Nope, didn’t happen. In fact, the second time I met him, I weighed more.
I’ve read too many books on how to lose weight, how to work out, and how to succeed in trimming my waist not doing crunches. What is the problem with me because I know I can achieve the unachievable.
I’ve worked my way out of $20K debt brought on by a crap-filled boyfriend (another day’s entry), I’ve worked 50 hour weeks and done to full-time LVN school, I earned my RN while working 60 hour weeks, and I’ve earned my journalism/communications bachelor’s from an Ivy League School. I didn’t fall (completely) apart when my daughter had surgery at 7 weeks and I’ve been a stay at home mom to two beautiful girls for the past seven years. So, why can’t I lose the weight? What’s the problem? Honestly, I have no idea.
Problem is, I like to eat, well, I like the camaraderie that goes with eating. I love sitting around with friends, sharing some wine (or margaritas) and having a great meal. The looks on the faces of my family when I cook/bake something amazing, I relish (sorry for the food reference) the accolades of “Thanks Mom. This is really good” or in mom speak “Mom, you really love us to feed us such great food. You’re the best mom in the universe.”
I love the memories that are established around a table because all the senses are in high gear, the memories are vivid and truly unforgettable. I guess part of me doesn’t want to lose that, doesn’t think I can make more memories over lettuce and a carrot stick, but I’ve moved well into the obese range and I might be shortening my chances for memories if I don’t do something about it.
So, I’ve joined the Lifetime Fitness 90-Day Challenge. My hope is in 90 days, I am well on my journey to fit, 40, and fabulous.
Today, I didn’t scream when I stepped on the scale. That’s a good start for me. I even worked out afterwards, hauled it on the elliptical and took my dogs for a walk.
I’ve begun on a journey that will probably be more difficult that any other I’ve started. Getting a grip on why I eat the way I do.
For years, I’ve fought with myself, my guilt on eating. I eat, then I feel guilty for eating…anything.
So will this journey be any different? God, I hope so.