Wednesday Weigh-In

Just before the Indy Mini, I got brave. And by brave, I mean that I stepped on the scale. 

No matter how much I exercise or how many days I track my food (I currently have a 374-day streak on MyFitnessPal) or how many times I've actually stood on the scale, it's always a nerve-wracking moment. It was no different that day albeit probably worse as I knew that the indulgences were many in April as I celebrated my PR at the Carmel half marathon and my birthday, as well as ate my way through Chicago with my girlfriends.

Just as I suspected, I didn't like the number I saw – especially because it displayed my weight in stones, not pounds, no matter how many times I fiddled with the settings. (And it still does. It might be a sign to get a new scale and have a legitimate reason to go after this one with a sledgehammer.)

But before I could beat myself up too much, the universe gifted me with a near 10-day stomach virus that left me 6 pounds lighter.

Please note: I'm not advocating illness as a means to weight loss. It just is what it is what it is.

While some of the loss was water, I have been able to stay under my pre-baby weight, which is still not to say I'm happy. Ideally, I'd like to lose another seven to 10 pounds to feel like I look lean – especially in pictures – but also so I enter training for the Indianapolis Monumental Marathon at a fighting weight. 

Goals should be SMART – specific, measurable, achievable, relevant and time-bound – and I'm approaching my post-partum, post-nursing weight loss in the same way. While I would never advocate that someone lose weight for something, I'm using our family vacation in July as a benchmark to keep me accountable.

Also: I really want a reason to spend more money than necessary on an Athleta bathing suit. I'm using the purchase as a reward for reaching my Weight Watchers goal weight, which would mean I need to lose 4 pounds. Four pounds is specific, measurable and achievable and the weight-loss is relevant as marathoners can often gain weight during training. Time-bound – well I have six-week goal.  

It's not good enough to have a goal, though. Not even a SMART one. You have to have a plan and a plan I have.

The stomach bug didn't just jump start my weight loss, though. It helped me reset my palate, which had been far too sugar hungry before May 7. Using that as a springboard, I'm focusing on vegetables (boring) and increasing my protein intake. I'm not going to be slamming protein pancakes and protein shakes and a dozen hard-boiled eggs but I am going to add in a shake and skip the night-time ice cream in lieu of cheese and meats with a couple crackers or homemade popcorn.

I'm also, at least this week, sharing my meals on Instagram (follow me HERE) to keep me accountable. Partly, it's because I'm copying a friend who is doing Whole30 but it's also because I have a short attention span when it comes to focusing on food.

Anyone have tips to stay motivated? I almost think it's harder to keep at it when the weight loss goal is smaller and the weight is more stubborn.

Back at Square One

"It takes nine months to put on the way so it's only right that it should take nine months to lose the weight."

I've always loathed that phrase. It seemed like a way to justify not losing the baby weight or a way to rationalize poor eating decisions when caring for a newborn.

But I found myself clinging to that phrase more and more as the months ticked by after Si's birth. I had lost some of the 35-ish pounds I gained but stalled with about 15 to go. I had lots of things to blame – lack of sleep, stress (that of caring for a newborn and outside sources) and hormones, all of which are scientifically proven to hinder weight loss.

It was frustrating to say the least and, I'm sure as I've written here, I had resigned myself to the fact that I wouldn't have a fighting chance until breastfeeding was over. Nursing Si and maintaining my supply came first, and my body second.

The holidays arrived, though. The season of indulgence came in like a lion, and I found myself engaging in eating behaviors that not only negatively affected my waistline but my self esteem as well.

So on Jan. 4, the first Monday of the new year, I said enough. It was time to get into gear. It wasn't a resolution or a "new year, new you" effort. It was a "get your head out of your ass" kind of thing. The first step was getting on the scale and acknowledging the number, whatever it may be. Second was packing my lunch, mostly vegetables and lean protein. Third was avoiding all of the sugar at work.

It was tough – each step – but I stayed the course (am still staying the course). All of the things I thought I couldn't do, all of the obstacles in front of me, whether I had put them there or other things had, seemed to be inching away from my path.

This morning, I stepped on the scale. And then I stepped off. And then I stepped on again. Both times, the display showed a number I haven't see in nearly 18 months. It's a number that I've been waiting for, one that puts me in the healthy weight range (according to the BMI chart). It was a number, according my doctor's chart, that was 1 pound less than I weighed in at the first prenatal appointment.

Yahoo for eating a crap ton of vegetables and having a bit of a wonky stomach yesterday!

Excited as I was, I didn't think much about the timing. It just seemed long overdue. But then, I started going over the day with Mark.

Iron Miles' uniform shirt. I need to pack his lunch. I'll drop him off at school and then head to the doctor. Si has his 9-month check up today.

Si. He's 9 months. NINE MONTHS. The length of time it took me to gain 35 pounds and grow a baby. And the time, it seems, it took me to lose the weight.

I would like to lose more. I plan to lose more as even though I'm getting to a happy place with the scale, I'd like to be closer to my Weight Watchers goal weight; I want to fit into my summer clothes; and I want to feel a bit fitter than I do now.

Today, though, I will celebrate. With a giant ass mother effin' burger ... hold the bun, add the veggies with a tall glass of water on the side.

Learn to Hate Yourself In 6 Easy Steps

I don't like my body.

I could try to write around it, wax poetic about things with baby No. 2 being different ... harder. In the end, though, it would all boil down to the fact that I am not happy with the way I look.

I feel round ... soft ... heavy. I look in the mirror and see thick legs, a double chin and arms that flap in the wind. I feel a spillage when I squeeze (rather than slide) into pants.

I've tried to do things to improve the situation. I track my intake as best I can on MyFitnessPal. I exercise regularly. And I've given myself plenty of challenges – no sugar for a month, no sugars and no grains for a month, one dessert a day, drink 5 bajillion jugs of water before every meal. But in the end, I'm still 5 pounds above my official starting weight at the doctor and 15 pounds above where I would like to be.

The worst part? According to the BMI chart, I am overweight. I am unhealthy by this standard.

To add insult to injury, there have been a few things to really hammer that sentiment home. So if you are feeling as if you want to take your self esteem down a notch – or 5 – here are my tips.

1. Give yourself permission to give up. When I really tried to rein in my diet, more than my weight dropped. My milk supply did, too. And I'm not one of those magic milk unicorns who lose 30 pounds and pump 500 ounces. So instead of getting neurotic about every ounce I wasn't pumping, I decided to give up any real weight loss effort until the shop closes down. Of course, that doesn't necessarily translate into eat all the sugar ... but I let it. You know, because the weight will fall off when I stop nursing. #sodelusional

2. Stop weighing yourself. The number on the scale is just a number ... blah, blah, blah. While I know that's true – to an extent – I'd really like to see a certain number. By not weighing myself, I don't have to be reminded that I'm not there yet. Genius! But, I also lose sight of what I'm working toward and hence allow myself to eat all the sugar.

The only shot from our anniversary. Full-length photos were not allowed.

3. Don't try clothes on; just buy the size you want. I wanted to look hot for my anniversary night out with Mark. I originally looked at slinky dresses then lacy skirts and finally settled on a cute top and black skinny jeans. I went to Old Navy, armed with a $35 reward and sweet coupon, ready to find something sassy. Except the available sizes were 0, 4, 10, 16 and 18. I am not those sizes. My ego told me to try on the 4 (though my gut should have said 10). The mid-rise curvy style fit. Sort of. Well, I could pull them up with a shimmy, shimmy shake and zip them. So, yeah. A win. I decided that I would do myself a favor and dig for a 6. As luck would have it, I found a pair. Petites, 25 percent off because they don't carry that size in store. I grabbed them and headed to the register. I went to put them on Saturday night and barely got them buttoned. The jeans were not the vanity-sized, forgiving-cut, full-of-stretch pair I had tried on. I felt like a stuffed sausage – just the way I pictured a night out on the town to Mark seven years of marriage.

4. Gather photo evidence. Si was doing this really funny thing the other night. He would get super excited, rocking in his Bumbo, every time I gave him a bite of turkey rice soup. When I gave him a bite of Gerber pureed peas, he'd scrunch up his face and shiver. I told Mark to take a video for posterity. While he failed to get the action (Si got camera shy), he managed to capture the black circles under my eyes, frizzy hair, bloated cheeks and double chin. I instantly deleted it. Even if Si had given an Oscar-worthy performance, it still would have went to the trash can.

5. Wear sassy pants. And by sassy pants, I mean patterned workout tights. I was already into them when I joined the AMR challenge but my participation took it to a ridiculous level. I bought two pairs from Kohl's during Black Friday week. Though cute, they do my legs no favors. I look shorter, heavier and what should be stars look like Miles colored on my leggings.

6. Book it. My company receives media review copies and promotional materials but our ethics policy prevents us from keeping anything we've been sent. At the end of the year, the items are priced at a fraction of the MSRP and sold to benefit charity. This year, I bought "The 17-Day Diet" and "Bikini Fit: The Four-Week Plan" under the guise that they might refresh my memory or provide inspiration re: planning group fitness classes. Instead, they were just ways to make me feel bad about myself. According to "The 17-Day Diet," my plan to lose 15 pounds (at some point) is a bit conservative. I need to lose 25 to 30 pounds. Just when I thought its chart was a bit unrealistic, my co-worker said she fell in the range.

So 25 pounds it is. #passthecelery

After the holidays.

When I'm done nursing.

And all the cereal is gone.

NSV: Finding Success Where I Can

The scale and I have a mutual agreement: I hate it, and it hates me. It's not the ideal relationship but it's not messy or dirty. Simple. Clear cut.

The relationship has become more defined as I try to navigate this whole post-baby body bull shit. I workout, I track my food, I try to eat things I should and avoid the crap. I try to trust in the process. Yet, when I step on the scale it gives me a big middle finger and displays the same number time after time after time. Or, when it's feeling especially sassy, the number goes up.

I hate it. It hates me.

On the rare occasion, after a few weeks of unacceptable numbers from the scale and me on the verge of going all "Office Space" on it, the number jumps down 2 pounds.

"Ha, ha, lady. Just playing. You can put the Tiger Tail away now."

The challenge of losing the weight would be enough to drive even the sanest of people crazy but add in sleep deprivation and hormones and ... well ... it's been tough.

Thankfully, I've found solace in the NSV – non-scale victory to those who haven't spent hours in a Weight Watchers meeting room.

Like finally fitting into one of my favorite pre-baby dresses. I'm not talking like "OK, I can sort of slide this down over my taco pooch" but "Hey, you can't see the rolls." I was very happy and, appropriately, took a bathroom selfie to celebrate. Note: Aren't you glad there's a biohazard box on the wall? Just in case we need to do a rogue appy after lunch.*

And then there's the fact that I can wear a couple pairs of running shorts that were too strained against my hips and too snug on the legs that my thighs ate them and I looked like I was running in a bikini ala the Bugaboo ad. To those in Fort Wayne who witnessed that sight, I am sorry.

There have been some ever satisfying comments from friends who compliment me and tell me they can notice a change – even if the scale is still on my bad side.

Maybe, though, the most rewarding has been checking myself out in the mirror when I teach class. I can see my muscles – the definition in my shoulders, the biceps pop when I curl. I might not ever be skinny-skinny the way I was at my lowest weight two kids ago but damn if I won't be strong.

So the scale can suck it. I might be losing weight at a snail's pace but I'm taking back my old self piece-by-piece.

*Obviously, I have been watching far too much "Grey's Anatomy" while I nurse.

Training Again: Ready ... Or Not?

July 1.

That was going to be the day – the day I began training and the day I documented it my Believe journal.

I bought my journal way back in January when Lauren Fleshman, one of the co-authors, was speaking at the Fort Wayne Track Club banquet. I had her sign my copy, going ridiculously fangirl as I told her that I was saving it for my post-baby comeback.

The one, I had decided, would begin July 1. It was a date that seemed far enough removed from Silas' birth that I would be ready to put my nose to the grindstone and ready to do it safely. I was excited to think about the workouts I would document, the successes and challenges I would face. Words like tempo and repeats made me giddy. I had visions of shedding time (and pounds).

But now that go time is eight days away, I'm not feeling butterflies in my stomach. Rather, it's more like a pit.

I've been running consistently over the past 5 weeks, and I'm getting comfortable at shorter distances. My runs are at least 3 miles, sometimes 4, but they are almost all at the same pace – start strong and fizzle. I'm adding a "long" run, too, on the weekends – shooting for 5 or 6 miles. I did this for the first time Saturday and made it 5 but the struggle was real for that last half-mile.

I have no pressing need to push the distance or the pace. Even though I declared this summer the season of the 5K, I am not registered for a single event at that distance. I'll be toeing the line at Fort4Fitness on Sept. 26 but I haven't handed over my credit card yet for the 10K or 4-mile race (or both). The only thing I really have to worry about is the Bourbon Chase and that is in mid-October.

And so I keep thinking, do I really need to start worrying about training? My fitness and average pace will improve with time, and I feel confident that I will run regularly without a schedule or journal to keep me accountable. I just had a baby (and C-section) 10 weeks ago, after all, and there's no need to put undue pressure on myself.

But.

The big but. I have to ask myself if my hesitation to use the Believe journal is because, well, I'm not ready to believe in myself yet. Am I questioning my physical ability to put in the work? Am I scared that I won't be able to push myself like I did last year? Do I not feel worthy of the journal?

I don't know. I just don't. But, I guess, I have eight days to figure it out.

You've Got The Look {A Three Things Thursday Post}

"To me, you've got the perfect body."

I had to keep my mouth from dropping when one of my group fit participants gave me the compliment. Me? The perfect body? I am not sure that phrase has been ever been assigned to me. And, to be honest, I just didn't see it.

I see arms that flap in the wind. I see a belly that jiggles. I see thighs that touch. I have legs with bumps and wrinkles. And the number on the scale? Well, it hasn't been so nice to me this week*.

But that's not what she saw. She saw someone who was healthy but not emaciated. She saw someone with muscle tone but not muscles. I also think she saw someone who was approachable, realistic and aspirational**.

The idea of how a personal trainer or group fitness instructor has been something I've been thinking about a lot lately.

1. It's my job to not just give people a good workout but give them something to work toward. I am supposed to be a role model. It's hard to feel deserving of the responsibility when  I am very much in the same place they are – trying to rein in the diet, lose weight and improve my health. But, I am finding my participants' dedication and journeys to be great motivation. I want to be better for them!

2. Thanks to Beachbody and Advocare, there seems to be an explosion of fitness and health "coaches" – a title that comes with a credit card transaction and a desire to sell. Via Facebook, I've seen people of all shapes and sizes seek to motivate and inspire people to get healthy, lose weight and gain a sense of community ... at the price of their particular program. It's great to see so many people take a chance on exercise thanks to these programs and be introduced to them by friends.

I hate to admit it but I have found myself questioning these folks, often allowing myself to feel (maybe wrongly so) more entitled to lead others on a fitness journey.

3. On a superficial level, I think there is a look clothing-wise to being a trainer. You can't just show up in ratty shorts and a cotton T-shirt. I feel like I need some more workout clothes as I've noticed many of my capris are older and starting to show some wear.

I'm super in love with the Fila Sport Maui Skimmer. I bought a pair about a month ago, and I love the wide waist band. I just saw a floral pattern and, well, it made my heart stop. I'm also anticipating some major rewards from my Old Navy card, and it's tempting to splurge on the Quest Metro Slouch Capri from Athleta. I think they'd be perfect for Piloxing. And though I'm not sure what a tennis capri is, I like what Nike has out.

I'm going to try to wait on the capris – at least a bit. New clothes are always a good reward for reaching health goals!

* Note: Dear Kim, Stop eating like an asshole. Sugar is not good for you. Also, drink more water.

** I don't think this is a word, and I'm OK with that.

Back on my feet

The discharge instructions from the hospital in regards to my C-section are fairly standard. No driving for 10 to 14 days. If I have increased pain or swelling at the site of the incision, seek medical attention. Follow up with the doctor in six weeks.

But what struck me as vague, at best, and problematic, at worst, was the plan of care for activity.

"Activity as tolerated. ... Return to regular diet and activity as tolerated."

Well, then, it's time to bust out the running shoes.

Ha! Just kidding.

Even though running has taught me to tolerate a lot of things, including discomfort and reasonable amounts of pain, it has also instilled a valuable lesson: Don't be stupid with your body. I would love to go for a run right now but I wouldn't deem it prudent.

However, I have been feeling the itch to be active again as my pain levels drop each day. I'm 19 days post partum, and I have little discomfort around the incision at rest or during activities of daily life. Any troubles seem to be internal and more than likely related to the uterus shrinking down to size (according to my very non-expert personal opinion).

I decided to test the road on Monday with a short walk to see how everything felt. I got Silas settled in the stroller and headed out for a mile loop that I did a lot during my run streak – also with Silas. Sort of.

It was windier, cloudier and chillier than I had hoped but it felt good to move. So good. I didn't have any pain – dull or jabbing – at the incision site during the walk. The only awareness was muscular in nature. Like, holy hell, woman. Your body was cut open 17 days ago and you want to do this. It quieted down, though, within minutes of arriving home.

Baby neck rolls! Note: I had a hat on him and had his head covered for the walk. It just didn't work for the selfie :)

Feeling confident and a wee bit bored on Tuesday, I strapped Silas into the carrier to see how we would fare on a longer jaunt. And by longer, I mean 1.5 miles total. I didn't want to push my body or him, as we're still establishing a nursing schedule. (*Refer to the part about not being stupid.) It was warmer, sunnier and lovelier. He napped, I listened to a podcast on speaker and enjoyed the day.

Even though I'm out for 30 minutes or less, it's amazing what the walks do for me. I feel bright, alert and enthusiastic. I rang my grandma during another 1.5 miles this morning and she noted that I sounded back to normal.

"Not yet," I replied. "But soon."

Strong is the new sexy

I was post-BODYPUMP and post-shower and in a big ole hurry to get dressed so I could meet my friend for a little shopping/girl-time. I threw on a long navy blue sweater and grabbed my skinny jeans. I put one foot in and tugged. And tugged. And tugged. I put the second foot in and pulled. And pulled. And thanked God I only have two legs. After what seemed like 10 minutes, my jeans were on.

Painted on.

I threw the pair off in disgust, swapping them for a more forgiving bootcut, and stomped down the stairs.

"I think my calves are too big for my skinny jeans," I lamented to Mark.

In his sassiest voice, he said, "Girl, there ain't nothing skinny about your legs."

And then I told him that we were seeing "Twilight" and not Oscar-worthy "Lincoln." I might have also told him that he was a jerk. (Note: He has assured me that he never meant to offend.)

I remember the day I was able to buy those Old Navy skinny jeans. It seemed like such a huge victory - not only did I like the size on the tag but I was wearing a style I never thought I could. I wore them every chance I got, feeling skinny and confident, until my pregnant belly could no longer squeeze into them.

It was a celebration-worthy event post-partum, as you can imagine, when I was able to pull them on again and wear them with my favorite J.Crew riding boots. It was as if I was back. The me I had worked so hard for.

You can imagine then the disappointment I felt on Saturday when it was apparent that they no longer fit the way I liked, and Mark's facetious comment stung. I tried to chock up the ill-fitting pants to swollen legs from a hot shower and hard workout but I knew, deep down, that I couldn't deny the fact that my legs are bigger. I've noticed it when I wear my cords, my calves straining the fabric. My riding boots don't seem as loose.

But I also can't deny that they are bigger, in part, because they are stronger.

Regular BODYPUMP classes, "extracurricular" strength workouts and high mileage from marathon training, left my legs lean (with the exception of extra skin and stubborn cellulite that serves as a reminder of my obese days). I can squat more than 45 pounds for an entire BP track. I can see my quads with a little flexing. I have a bit of definition between the hamstring and gluteus maximus. Oh, how I love that curve.

When I lost weight, I surprised everyone by getting rid of a rather, well, voluptuous bottom. I was looking in the mirror recently, and I noticed that it seems to have returned.

With a  (bit of) vengeance. And, to be honest, I think I rather like.

I might not be as slender as I used to be pre-baby but I feel like I look healthier, fitter and stronger. I am not sure if I've ever felt prouder of the body - not only because of the way it looks but because I can see the fruits of my labor. And the results only motivate me to work harder. Become stronger.

It might mean that I might have to abandon slim cut styles or wear a size bigger. It might mean my ego might get a bit deflated when shopping for clothes. It might mean that things will hug me differently than before.

I refuse to be self-conscious. No tantrums (from now on) will be thrown and tears will not be shed. Why? Because strong is the new sexy.

Starting over

It was an undeclared goal, if you will. It was one I had in the back of my head (sometimes in the front) but just never managed to share with anyone. Not even you.

For the month of April, I wanted my average pace for every run to look like this: 9:xx. A 9-something pace may be nothing to some of you and, for others, it might be a big deal. I am somewhere in between.

And I'm pleased to report, with the exception of the Wallaby 5K I ran with Heather, I met my goal.

Note: This assumes that I do not run this weekend while attending Body Pump training and take Monday as a rest day.

Before I had Miles, I had worked myself up to a respectable pace and most runs were in the mid- to high 8's. I set a 10K PR in 53:06 (8:34) and a half-marathon PR of 1:54:12 (8:43).

I maintained some of that speed during my pregnancy but eventually stopped tracking pace when I started to see more 10's than 9's. When I came back, I knew I might be slower but I had also read of female runners who not only came back from pregnancy strong but stronger than before.

My first run, with a 12:43 pace, made it evident that I would not be one of those women.

I'd be lying if I said it wasn't hard to accept that fact. It is. Every day, when I think of the running goals I want to accomplish and realize just how far I am and how close I once was, I get frustrated. I want it all back. The speed, the endurance, the confidence.

It's true that I'm slowly getting there but it hasn't been without some effort.

Here's what I have done, from a mental standpoint:

1. Accept that I was starting over. I took off eight weeks, had major surgery and lost all semblance of normal life. It would be silly to think that things would just snap back.

2. Fall into the comparison trap. I didn't become an avid runner, so to speak, until 2010. That year, I ran three halfs (spring/May, summer/August, fall/September) and a longer trail run in November. 2012 is the year of the post-partum comeback, with me running a spring half, summer half and fall full. The nearly identical training cycles between the two years allow me to look at the numbers, I can see where I've been and where I'm (hopefully) going.

While I feel like I've been at the starting line these past few months, I can see that I'm much stronger and faster than I was when I was training for my first half-marathon.

3. Set goals. I can sit there and focus on who I used to be or I could occupy my mind with things that I can actually work on. Since my return to running, I have been training for a race - Fort-4-Fitness 4-miler, the HUFF, Martian half-marathon. Next up: a half-marathon that happens to be on Miles' first birthday. (Yes, I plan to get up early, run 13.1 miles and then throw a party.) I've done all of these without a time goal, instead focusing on accomplishing the week's training plan.

4. Remember that I am not doing this alone - literally. It was easier to work toward getting faster because I had freedom to do what I wanted in the morning. There were no bottles to make, no diapers to change, no child to dress in four layers because it's still 30 degrees at the end of April.

Oh, and there's the whole fact that during 75 percent of my runs I'm pushing 40+ pounds. Yes. Forty. Four-Zero. And that's not counting the energy spent wrangling my dog.

5. Attack it. I want to be faster. And, yes, there are things that make it harder. However, I'm not going to give up. I have arranged "Mommy needs alone time" nights so I can get in mid-week long runs. I am continuing to focus on strength and building lean muscle. I am enlisting the ever-motivating Mark this summer to push me through some tougher runs to get me back in form.

Maybe I won't get there. Maybe I will. Maybe, eventually, I'll be one of those women who get faster after baby.  I don't know. I guess I'll keep running to find out.

Table for pity, party of 1, and a plan

I don't quit. Not ever. Not in life and certainly not in running.

That was, until last night.

I had 5x800 on the plan, and I spent the entire day oddly excited to go home and get working. I was going to run alone - alone alone. The sun was shining. And, I had a genius plan: I mapped a 0.85-mile loop in my neighborhood so that I could leave my water in the driveway and make a pit stop after each repeat.

I managed to get off work early and I bounded into the house, throwing on a pair of shorts and a tank, my sassy new Brooks hat and my MOTOACTV. Finally, I was going to get to do it.

I started off with a slow half-mile warmup before getting into the workout. The warmup was a bit heavy but that was to be expected. I was sure that my legs would loosen up by the time I got going. Even though I could set up a workout, I opted to just keep an eye on my watch. When it said 0.50 mile, I was off.

Sort of.

It was hard. Harder than I expected. After a quarter-mile, I just wanted to be done. When I reached my house a bit earlier than anticipated, I took a break for water/caught my breath. I finished the repeat and followed it with a quarter-mile recovery jog. I tried to pump myself up, thinking that I just needed one repeat to get going.  And before I knew it, I was off on repeat two.

For the sake of brevity, I am going to interrupt this post to tell you that repeats two and three didn't go any better and repeats four and five never happened. I quit. Quit, quit, quit. Instead, I opted to just do five miles (I was at 2.5). The remainder of the run was a battle of mind and body, and no one won.

When I got home, I couldn't stop myself from being upset, frustrated and a bit melodramatic. I have become so jealous of other mother-runners who blog about PRs and marathons, and I can't even do a track workout. I am not making significant gains in speed and my base doesn't feel strong. "What am I doing wrong?" I asked myself over and over as I cleaned up. "All I want to do is become a better runner."

Ding, ding, ding!

"The only way to get better at running is to run," a wise man told me just after my first half marathon. I was working on an article for work, and I had inquired whether second-time half marathoners should incorporate speed work. He was a bit hesitant and instead suggested adding mileage. I was a bit deflated - I wanted to go to the track - but I listened to what he said. I switched up my schedule, making my "bonus" run a mid-week long run. It went from 3 miles to a 10K and my weekly mileage went from 20 to 25+ miles. In three months (not even), I ran a 5K PR and cut 15+ minutes off my half time. With no speedwork.

So that's what I'm going to do. I am going to quit the defeating repeats and tempo runs, and I am going to add more miles. Instead of doing strength work on "Mommy needs alone time" night, I'll be doing longer runs with the dog. (Don't worry - I'm still going to do strength but more than likely it will be a Jillian DVD after Miles goes to bed.) I am going to focus on 25-mile weeks (as life permits), getting strong and see where it takes me.

While the plan isn't magic, I feel refreshed that I will be making strides (hah! strides!) in what I think will be the right direction.

Do you re-evaluate training plans? When do you incorporate speed work?

Body after baby: A wrap up, of sorts

I was 39 weeks pregnant when I had Miles, and I knew I was pregnant for about 34 of those weeks. Miles is now almost 37 weeks old, making him 9 months old according to the books but we still have a couple weeks on the calendar until he’s officially 9 months old.

So that means …

Fig, I don’t know. There’s too many numbers for me to deal with. Let’s just say that I’ve had enough time to get my back my pre-baby body.

And the verdict?

Not so much.

My last Weight Watchers weigh-in pre-pregnancy was 122.8 and the last time I stepped on the scale, I weighed 128.4. If you need some help with math, I’m 5.6 pounds away from my “starting weight” and 3.4 pounds from my arbitrarily determined happy weight of 125.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed as I see my “grace period” come to an end. I really wanted to be one of those people who miraculously snapped back after pregnancy. I wanted to be one of those women who see the pounds melt off while they are nursing. I wanted to be one of those mother runners who come back faster and stronger than before.

But I’m not. And I have to be OK with that.

The truth is, after all:

*That I fit into 99 percent of my pre-pregnancy clothes, including my skinny jeans from the photo above.

*I have remained committed to running and been consistent with strength training, and I’m seeing the results.

 

The first set of photos were taken Sept. 13 and the second set were taken March 17. I’m only about 10 pounds lighter but I feel like I look leaner and narrower, as well as a bit more toned in the arms.

*While I’m still making an effort to lose weight (tracking on MyFitnessPal), I am learning to live and maintain a weight. I had gotten so obsessive and controlling with my diet that I had a hard time enjoying myself. I think I’m learning (note: I did not say “discovered”) the balance between eating, exercise, life and weight.

*Beating myself up will do no good. I am doing what I can, when I can.

*Falling into the comparison trap also won’t do me any favors. I can only be me and this is who I am.

For now.

Looking forward: I want to be a stronger, faster runner. Period. Of course, I hope that my training will help me lose those last pesky few pounds but if not, I’ll live.

After all, he might just be worth those pesky 5 pounds.

WIAW: A brief return

I felt like I had finally made my peace with the scale. After nearly eight months of trying to get my pre-baby body back, I resigned myself to the idea that maybe, just maybe, my post-baby happy weight would be more like 129-130 than the 125 I wanted it to be and definitely not the 122 I saw on the scale just shortly before the big news.

Then something happened. I lost two pounds. To say I was excited would be an understatement. I was filled with new energy and new hope that the number 125 would be in my future. My resolve to eat well was renewed, and I recorded my first 20-mile week.

But just as the excitement set in, something happened. This time, not so good. I stepped on the scale yesterday morning and I was up 3 pounds. I know there is no way I gained 3 pounds and it's likely a fluke but it didn't do much for my mood, which was already dampened because my run got rained out.

In an effort to not let the scale (or Fat Tuesday) set me back, I thought I would bring back What I Ate Wednesday just for fun. 

Breakfast



Grits with cheese and dippy egg

Unpictured: Pre-breakfast snack of Fiber One 90-cal bar

Mid-morning snack



Fat-free hot chocolate spiked with instant coffee

Lunch



"Sushi" salad - Bibb lettuce topped with diced cucumbers, matchstick carrots, cubed avocado, faux crab and a brown rice mixture made with brown rice (duh!), 1 tablespoon light mayonnaise, 1/2 teaspoon wasabi and a couple drops of Sriracha.

Afternoon snacks

 

Apple, Chips Ahoy 100-calorie pack, 1 ounce cashews and Weight Watchers smoked mozzarella string cheese

Dinner



The Deen Brothers Lighter Slow Cooked Stuffed Pepper (On a side note, this recipe was good but not great. I loved the ease of preparation and nutritional stats but it was definitely lacking in flavor. I would add more salt or even better, season salt, black pepper and maybe some Italian herbs.)

Unpictured: Post-run fat-free fudge pop

How did you fare on Fat Tuesday? I would like to note that I passed up King Cake, brownies, pasta leftover from a luncheon in another department and french bread. Go me!

Friday musings

Terrible. Just terrible. That was basically the forecast for this winter and yet, on Dec. 30, it was 37 degrees when I headed out for a 4-mile run this morning. It was glorious. The weather, that is. The run ... not so much. Two middle of the night feedings and a 4:45 a.m. wake-up call will do that to a girl.

By the way, if the late start to the terrible weather means that it is going to be cold for my April birthday, I may have to kill someone.

***

I got a Kindle Fire for Christmas, and I'm currently reading "Such a Pretty Fat: One Narcissist's Quest to Discover If Her Life Makes Her Ass Look Big, or Why Pie Is Not the Answer." It's a weight loss memoir of sorts by one of my favorite authors, Jen Lancaster. I'm about 49 percent in (thanks, Kindle) and I'm loving it. It's snarky and relate-able all at the same time.

 "But ever since I made the decision to drop a few pounds-way less easy than it sounds, by the way-I've become obsessed with my size and in so doing I've inadvertently allowed my inner critic to have a voice. And you know what? She's a bitch. Like now when I see my underpants in the laundry, I no longer think Soft! Cotton! Sensible! Instead I hear her say, 'Damn, girl, these panties be huge.'”

Of course, it's not all laughs. There are some inspiring moments in there, too.

“As I paddle along, I slowly become aware that it's been fear keeping me out of this pool for so many years. I never came here before because I was afraid I'd make a fool of myself by not having the endurance to complete a lap. The swimming wasn't what scared me; failure was. My fear locked me in a state of arrested development for so many years. Fear kept me from tackling my weight, which I understand has simply been symptomatic of my greater fear, growing up. I glide down the lane on my back and reflect on how good I feel right now. It's not because I've lost more than thirty pounds. I feel incredible because I've stopped being afraid.”

***

Salt and vinegar almonds are delicious. As is popcorn, grapes and my Unstuffed Green Pepper Soup. All of which I've nibbled on in the past hour. If I didn't know any better, I would think I was pregnant again.

***

Last night, I did week one of Jillian Michaels' "Ripped in 30" in my my sweet new workout space. Sure, it's in the basement, which happens to be unfinished, and it smelled vaguely of dog urine because Denali thinks it's his new toilet. Oh, and the concrete is a bit tough on the feet but it beats doing butt kicks in front of Mark as he plays Angry Birds on his iPad.

***

It's my Monday morning ritual: After I've finished nursing Miles, I plod upstairs to the bathroom and weigh myself. It's been a relatively pleasant experience since I've quit Weight Watchers but I was a bit nervous this week. You know, having eaten a pound of cheese and four 10 million Triscuits on Christmas. I was so nervous that it took me five days to finally step on the scale.

You know what? I lost a half-pound! Huzzah! I guess it goes to show that staying active is key to avoiding holiday bloat.

Now to just get through this weekend ...

Who has exciting plans to share with me? Really. Share. I beg you because this girl is certain to be in bed when the ball drops unless Miles decides it's time for a snack.

Breaking up is hard to do

I have a confession to make.

I haven’t counted a single Weight Watchers PointsPlus in more than a month and it’s been at least twice that long since I’ve weighed in.

And you know what? I’ve lost 5 pounds.

I had been struggling with the PointsPlus program since I returned to Weight Watchers after having Miles. Some of my go-to foods on the WW program were worth more and others were worth fewer. I didn’t know how to plan meals to fit in the program, and I struggled with eating to keep up milk supply. It just seemed that no matter what I did, no matter how closely I thought I was following the plan, the scale would not budge. I knew if I was going to meet my post-baby weight-loss goals that I was going to have to make a commitment to attend meetings or switch things up.

It was a tough decision. I felt a loyalty to the program as it provided me with the tools, support and inspiration I needed to be successful. However, I found it difficult to fit in the meetings near my house now that I’m back to work and I lacked the motivation to scout out times on the weekends. It became clearer and clearer that I couldn’t continue doing something that so obviously wasn’t working for me.

I began tracking my food choices and exercise on MyFitnessPal.com, a site I used while I was pregnant to make sure I wasn’t giving in to the “eating for two” line. The site “gives” me 1,250 calories a day, and I am able to make an adjustment to account for breast feeding bringing me to 1,750 calories. Any exercise I complete gives me more calories for my eating pleasure.

I set up my account to lose 1 pound a week and, with the exception of Thanksgiving week, I have done just that. My post-partum weight loss stands at 14.4, bringing me 2.2 pounds below my WW goal and just 5.8 pounds from my happy weight.

I have no timetable to lose those 5.8 pounds – I merely want to see the scale to go in the right direction and feel in control of the process.

Have you ever made a drastic change in an effort to lose weight?

Weighing in: So long, sucka

Move that body: 2-point-something mile run and 20 minutes pilates

I said good bye to my friend, today.

I was not sad.

I was glad to see her go, actually.

After all, I spent what seems like 3 months trying to get rid of her.

I think I should celebrate … with some ice cream. Or, better yet, a pedicure. My feet are looking crazy now that I’m running more miles. Probably how I kicked that friend to the curb, anyway.

Blogger’s note: Be glad I’m not like other bloggers and thus too lazy to get off the couch and grab the camera to take a picture of my feet.

Weighing-in rundown

Weight loss this week: 0.8 pound

Pounds till WW goal: 1

Pounds till pre-baby weight: 11

Pounds till I can fit into my cords that are now required as it SNOWED today: ??

What’s working this week: Miles. More miles. I think the week’s total was 18.

What’s not working: I already told you – snacking. Carb-heavy snacking.

Goals for the week: Pick up some snacks that don’t involve carbs when I go to the grocery. You know, things like vegetables and salsa.

Viva la resistance

My goal is two resistance workouts a week and, well, I sort of accomplished that. I did an intermittent upper body workout. By intermittent I mean doing weights for about a minute at a time at which point Miles screamed forcing me to stop and pop that God send of a pacifier back in his mouth. This morning, I did do 20 minutes of pilates – 10 minutes focusing on the abs and 10 minutes on the butt.

How are you doing with your resistance training? Did it snow where you live?

Weighing in: My new BFF and Viva La Resistance

Move that body: Scheduled 4-mile run (keep me to this, mmkay)

I lost a pound this week - the same pound I've been losing and gaining for the past six weeks.

Yeah, I'm pretty awesome. At least that's what I'm assuming as this pound does not want to leave for good. Nothing, not even weight, apparently, wants to leave a good thing.

::shrugs::


What's working. Um, yeah ... exercise ... I guess. The eating was a bit testy this week. I like sugar. A lot.I did, however, plan for and bring my lunch. I made these sushi bowls and they are awesome. (Note: I subbed brown jasmine rice for the white rice because that's what I had on hand and completely skipped the sriracha because I didn't think I'd need it with the wasabi.) Oh, and even though my mini workout seemed sort of lame the other day - just me and 3-pound weights - I was totally feeling it the next day ... and the day after that.

What's not working. I have been secretly hoping to go on walks during my lunch break but I've had to leave work early almost every day this week and have been eating at my desk.

Goals for the week. Drink more water - I've been totally slacking - and rock it out at the W.O.O.F.

Viva La Resistance. It's only Nov. 3 and I've already fit in two sessions. Well, if you count Halloween's workout. I'm really happy thus far that I'm finding a bit of motivation to get stronger. And since I made my goal this week, I thought I'd sweeten the prize pot for you participants out there.

Say hello to my little friend.

Oh, you know, he's just the trainer extraordinaire from "The Biggest Loser." I picked up a copy of the DVD for me and, since it was on sale, one for you. It will keep us motivated once the challenge is through.

For my comrades in the Resistance, how has your week been going? Have you found a workout you love?

If you haven't joined in, this post will be your last chance. Simply comment with your commitment here or on the initial challenge post and get pumping!

Lucky number seven

Move that body: 2.27-mile run

I always have the best of intentions. Respond to e-mails. Answer questions. Brush my teeth. Respond to blogger awards. And then I get caught up trying to compile the best Christmas wish list ever ... well, you know the rest of the story.

But I'm up for redemption. The effervescent Megan and Kerry both tagged me to write seven random things about myself. So here I am, ready to tell you some things. First, though, a word of warning: Megan did hers in a super-awesome Halloween theme, and Kerry is from England. I am not cool like them. Not even going to try. Instead, I'm going to talk about running. Novel, right? Right!

1. I ran 59 miles in October. Yeah, I'm such a bad ass. ::cue eye rolling:: While it's about half the mileage I ran last October, it is 15 miles more than last month and double what I ran in August. Slowly but surely I'm making progress.

2. I have a race this weekend! It's the W.O.O.F., a trail race with a 5.3-mile loop. You can run one loop, three loops or do it as a three-person relay. Since I'm all about the threesomes, I'm doing it as a relay with bloggy (and real-life) bud L and her partner C. Our team name? Victorious Secret.

3. OK, this one isn't related to running but it is related to No. 2. One of the Google search terms used to find my blog has been "are threesomes fun." I know there's a joke there but I like to keep things classy over here. I am a mom after all. Other searches that led to Healthy Strides: figging, sweat bands in movies, rubs my feet and Kara Goucher.


Unrelated note: I really want to see "Happy Feet Two." Can I use Miles as an excuse to go?
4. As I've mentioned before, I have big plans for next year in terms of racing. I have a racecation planned with my BFF in March, the Flying Pig half-marathon in May, my favorite 5K in July, top secret plans for Fort-4-Fitness in September and the Columbus marathon in October. I might have to sell autographed photos of Miles to pay for it all but dangit, I'll make it work.

5. Even though I plan to do the Columbus marathon, I am absolutely terrified of the distance. Well, not so much the distance but balancing the training with motherhood. 

6. Running post-pregnancy has been much harder than I thought it would be. I knew I'd lack speed or endurance during the comeback but it seems I lack both. Every distance, every run seems like a challenge - even after 10 weeks of consistent running. The only thing that gets me through is comparing 2011 me to 2009 me. At this time in 2009, I had just finished C25K and was building a base for the 2010 Flying Pig half. As long as I'm beating my 2009 self, pace wise, I'll be OK because I know I went from running 13-minute miles to 8:30 miles. Do it once, do it again is my motto. (I wonder what kind of hits that will get me ;))

Unrelated note: There is a giant St. Bernard on "Good Morning America." He is so cute and I want to steal him but I'm fairly certain he weighs more than me. And Denali. Combined.

7. As difficult as running post-pregnancy has been, I don't miss running during pregnancy. I don't miss going the bathroom 573 times before leaving the house. I don't miss wearing cotton shirts because it was the only thing that fit over my belly. I don't miss not being able to see my shoes to tell whether they were untied. And I certainly don't miss Miles backing that @ss up into my rib cage/lungs, making it hard to breathe.

What's your unrelated note of the day? Anyone want to dog share a St. Bernard?

Weighing in: Stopping by Wendie’s

Anyone miss last week’s weigh in?

Yeah, I did, too.

Actually, I didn’t miss it – I just wish I had. I was up nearly a half-pound at Weight Watchers and, to be honest, I wasn’t surprised. Mark and I ate out a lot while we were in Cincinnati – like every meal – when we were there for my brother’s wedding.

This week there seems to be no change, which is a bit disappointing. I felt pretty good about my efforts, getting in my four Huff training runs and having taken a stab at the Wendie plan to jumpstart things. The Wendie plan “uses your extra weekly points in a certain distribution to help increase your metabolism so you can start losing that weight again.” [source]

What’s working: The Huff training schedule. Last night, I went down to the basement at 9 p.m. for a treadmill run. It wasn’t necessarily because I felt exercise guilt but because I didn’t want to skip a run so early in the plan. The Huff will help me exercise for a purpose other than weight loss, which I find reduces stress and makes it more fun.

What’s not working: My recent re-discovery of the fabulousness that is the McDonald’s ice cream cone.

While I will tell nearly anyone that the McDonald’s cone is a reasonable indulgence, it is NOT a reason to makeup an errand in order to leave the office and get one. 

Plan of action: Different version of the Wendie Plan and do Jillian Michaels once this weekend.

Now, with all of that said, I’m beginning to realize, more and more every day, that 9+ months pregnant = 9+ months to lose weight. And you know what?

Seeing this guy smile is worth it.I think.

How has exercise changed your perspective on weight loss?

Weekly weigh in: Slowly but surely?

Irritated. Frustrated. Pissed, even.

That's how I felt when I saw the number on the scale at Weight Watchers this morning. 138.4. I lost a whopping four-tenths of a pound. And while I'm the first person to tell someone that a loss is a loss, a move in the right direction, I was unhappy. I had been expecting better as I lost nothing last week and saw 136 on my bathroom scale on Tuesday.

I know this is how it goes, though. You have a couple good weeks and then a couple less than stellar weeks. You just kind of have to stay vigilant and ride it out. You definitely don't want to wallow. Or get the gun out of the safe.

If I'm feeling particularly desperate, I'll take a look - a good look - at the good ole tracker and see what's up. Am I underestimating the Points Plus values of food? Overestimating? Am I using my points for filler foods or filling foods?

What do you do when your weight loss slows?

The week in numbers

Weight this week: 138.4 pounds
Weight last week: 138.8 pounds
Weight loss this week: 0.4 pound
Total post-partum weight loss: 6.8 pounds

What's working

I've started tracking poor food choices in red pen so that they pop out from the good stuff. Instances when I write in red: when I eat foods lacking nutritional value; when I choose something despite a better choice being available; and when I eat just to eat.

What's not working

I think I need to get in a few more walks. I've done well with getting in three runs a week, and I've added in Jillian Michaels' "Ripped in 30." However, I haven't been doing much else. Cardio = calories burned. Calories burned = weight loss. Mark and I have discussed carving out an hour of me time for each of us each day, and I hope that focus will get me out of the door.

Note: I understand that me complaining that I weigh 138.4 (and not 122) might irritate some people. After all, at 5-foot-3, 138 is a healthy weight. However, 138 is not my happy weight and living a healthy lifestyle will always be a work in progress for me. I think it is important that those losing weight choose a goal that is not only attainable but for them and them alone. I do not believe that one weight fits all and only seek to encourage people to carve out their own happiness through a healthy lifestyle, regardless of a number. 

Numbers game

I’m not sure if you knew this but I had a baby 10 weeks ago.

A cute, adorable little baby who stole my body.



It was a body I worked really hard to get.

And now it’s time to get it back. Actually, it was time to get it back about 4 weeks ago (when I got the official OK to run) but now I’m going to share the journey – and the numbers – with you.
Every week, after my Weight Watchers meeting, I’ll share my weight, what worked – and what didn’t – and my goals for the week. I’ll also snap some photos each month to document the physical changes.

But before we get into all that, we need to see where we – I mean I – started.

122 pounds: Pre-pregnancy weight (My Weight Watchers goal weight is 133.)



160 pounds: Weight on birth day

Going out for my second to last preggo walk the night before Miles was born.

38: Total pounds gained during pregnancy weight gain



145.2 pounds: Weight three weeks post-partum
 


138.8: Current weight

Pounds to goal: 5.8

Pounds till I fit in my pre-preggo skinny jeans: 16 or less

Have you ever embarked on a weight loss journey? Were you successful?