On My Mind

I was going to write this post as a "Three Things Thursday" but I think I have more than three random things to share. Because I have thoughts. Lots of them.

• On Saturday, in the midst of prepping a dinner/early birthday for Mark party, I had the brilliant idea to clean out the cabinet above my stove. Good or bad, wrong or right, it's the place I store vinegars, some spices, baking ingredients and other seasonings that don't seem to have a place. It was a good clean as I uncovered many things that I had bought for a single recipe and totally forgot about – vanilla sugar, unflavored gelatin, pumpkin spice pudding mix. All of it was expired. But the best thing about the effort was not a clean cabinet, albeit nice, was that I found the bladder to my Nathan hydration vest.

::cue chorus of angels::

I had placed the pack in the basement to wash (where it's still waiting) and placed the bladder somewhere for safe keeping. The problem was that I didn't remember where that safe place was. I had looked for it in vain before the HUFF and was quite close to buying a replacement on Amazon. It was not ridiculously expensive, in the $25 range, but it seemed unnecessary if there was one in my house.

As it turns out, it was in the drawer with the kitchen towels buried underneath the linens. I'm not sure I want to use it quite yet – there's a year of drawer funk to contend with . I just need to pick up a cleaning kit and actually do it ... before I lose the bladder again.

• Now, back to the party. I like to have a theme for get-togethers so that, if anything, the menu is cohesive. For Saturday night, I set my sights on a grown-up pizza party. I made two batches of homemade crust and four pies. We had a traditional sausage and mushroom to suit the less adventurous and for the rest, there was a Philly chicken pie, a jalapeno popper version and a pear and gorgonzola variety. I had the latter three and they were amazing. To round it out, I served one of those chopped salads from the produce section.

• Mark's actual birthday is Friday, and I am tasked with making his favorite treat – a chocolate raspberry cake. It's a process. Not a difficult one but just enough work that I only do it once a year. As for his gift, I'm really excited about it. He reads here so I won't share just yet but there is a story, and I plan to divulge it next week.

• This morning, I had the lovely pleasure of going to the dentist. I'm lying. It wasn't a pleasure. I hate it. I have terrible teeth, and they always want me to do something. Two years ago, it was fill the gap between my front teeth. Last year, I had to have old silver fillings replaced. Anyway. When the hygienist called me back, I had that nagging feeling I knew her. I hadn't seen her there before but elsewhere. As it turns out, she used to take my Piloxing classes. When I made the connection, the first thing I thought was: Thank goodness, I waxed my mustache.

• At my appointment, I got dinged for not flossing the right way. I don't get to my back teeth well enough, and the picks apparently are inferior to actual floss. Actual floss hugs the teeth as you floss. You want to hug your teeth.When the hygienist told me this, I felt rather defensive. I wanted to shout, "Well, you really should squat like this." Except she wasn't doing squats and her form could very well be good.

Excuse me now. My molars asked for an embrace.

Curing obesity? Thoughts on long-term weight loss

remission (reh-MIH-shun). A decrease in or disappearance of signs and symptoms of a disease. In partial remission, some, but not all, signs and symptoms have disappeared. In complete remission, all signs and symptoms of disease have disappeared, although it still may be in the body.

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I've been thinking about this idea of remission lately - what it means to be rid of a disease, what it means to be cured. I've been thinking about when the condition not only ceases to exist but stops defining you.

It was by great luck and hospitality that I happened to find myself out with four lovely ladies on Saturday night in Napa. We were seated at the bar of Oxbow Cheese & Wine Merchant in Oxbow Public Market, enjoying the most amazing burrata as we laughed, sipped wine and chatted. The topic of the race - which all of us had run - and how we decided to run it came up, leading into a conversation about my blog.

"What do you write about?" Anne asked.

Fitness, running, life, weight loss, I told her. Well, how I keep the weight off, I clarified.

And so began the story - the telling of my story. It's one I'm used to sharing, so much so that I've almost become detached from it.

It's also one I feel almost silly telling for a number of reasons. A) It took me a long time to lose weight. Like 5 years, and it wasn't a straight 5 years. B) I don't have magic tricks to lose weight. And, C) it's been a long time since I've been that girl. I don't remember much about what it was like, physically, to carry that weight. I don't remember how I spent my time when I wasn't logging six hours of workouts a week.

The girl in my before pictures is not me and she hasn't been in 5 years. Five years - the same amount of time it takes for a person to stop being in remission and be cured of a disease.

While this definition/classification in most circumstances applies to cancer, obesity is a disease,* according to the American Heart Association, American College of Cardiology and The Obesity Society. As such, it should be treated, the agencies say, with doctors becoming proactive about weight loss, prescribing medically supervised weight loss programs and possibly suggesting surgery.

With the definition of obesity as a disease, comes the possibility of it being cured. The cure - permanent, maintainable weight loss. But when does that happen? The American Heart Association article suggests people participate in a weight loss maintenance program for a year. A year, though - the weight can easily come back. Would a "cure" designation be more appropriate at 5 years ... 10 years ... never?

I wonder, should such a thing exist, does there come a point, too, where you stop being the fat girl or stop being the weight loss success. Do you stop telling the story?

*Editor's note: I am, in no way, implying that being obese is like having cancer. The correlation was only drawn because of the timeline. Please do not take offense.

Three Things Thursday: Mother runner approved

Once upon a time, I was a mother runner. I was a mother runner who tossed her kid in the jogging stroller, secured him (obviously) and logged whatever miles I had on the plan.

Once upon a time, I was a mother runner. I was a mother runner who planned her runs on a baby's schedule, hoping he'd wake up in time to do what we needed to do.

Once upon a time, I was a mother runner who grew stronger as her baby grew, pushing more and more weight around the neighborhood.

And then winter came.

It was too cold to run with a toddler in tow. The toddler was sleeping later, eating real food and taking longer to start the day. The toddler definitely wasn't sleeping in the stroller and had a reduced attention span.

So the stroller runs slowed until they stopped. For a long time. So long that I had to look in my log to see when I last pushed the BOB.

But I'm happy to report that in five days, Miles has been in that stroller three times and I've been behind the handlebars for two.

1. Mark was camping, my in-laws vacationing and I was flying solo with Miles this past weekend. It's definitely not the ideal situation for a mother runner in the midst of marathon training but it was good. I hopped ahead in the plan and rescheduled workouts so that all I had to do on Sunday was a 3-miler. After breakfast, I filled a bottle with nuun, grabbed a cup of toddler trail mix (Goldfish, raisins and peanuts) and made sure Miles had his new friend, Tiggy. The run was nice -cooler weather and a decent pace - but I forgot just how hard it is to run with the stroller. I felt like I was sprinting a 5K rather than going for an easy run around the neighborhood.

2. On double days, I normally ship Miles off to daycare and squeeze my run in before work. Yesterday, though, I realized we were all sort of hanging around, waiting for the clock to strike 9. And it was 8:35. It seemed like such a waste to sit around so I asked Mark if he was interested in joining me for 3 miles. The run was hard as I had 6 miles already in the books, and we were forced to extend it by a 0.5-mile because of tree removal. Thankfully, Mark was a gentleman and pushed little man the whole way.

3. No matter the miles on tap, I've been getting up early to log them but after two successful stroller runs, I asked Mark whether he wanted to try it again since I had only 3 miles today. I pushed for half, answered repeated questions of "Where we going?" and stopped too many times for traffic, dog poop, lollipop retrieval and chats.

The stroller runs have been a nice change pace of this week but I'd be lying if I wasn't looking forward to some quiet time on Saturday morning. Seriously, you can only answer the same question 139 times before wanting to go find a binky.

What are your three things for Thursday?

Guts and glory

The air was thick. With humidity. With noise.

I was tired. I wanted to sleep. But all I could do was toss, turn as the booms of nearby fireworks filled the air. Frustrated, I quietly trotted downstairs.

I opened the door to the entertainment cabinet and put a DVD in the PS3. The sound of familiar friends was sure to put me to sleep.

Once upon a time, I lived and died (so to speak) according to the edicts of "Sex and the City." I was Carrie. Obviously. A lover of shoes and wrong men, a girl who wanted it all but had yet to find it. I routinely quoted the show the way Mark recites "The Big Lebowski," and I found myself relating nearly every situation to the series.

On this night, I had a chicken on the roof next door. Sorry, a rooster.

But rather than fall asleep to the first part of season six, I once again found myself sucked in. I watched episode after episode until my eyes could no longer stay open, the fireworks finally muffled by fatigue. The last words I remember hearing were:

"Now is the time for guts and guile."

The quote belongs to Elizabeth Taylor, and it motivated a grieving Charlotte to attend the birthday party for Brady. Not that it matters. I'm not here to write about the birthday party.

Rather, the quote reminded me of a comment Marcia left in my Firecracker 4-miler recap. I had bemoaned a too quick start, a mental battle and poor finish but she said that while those may be true, at least I had the guts to go for it.

I had never really thought of it that way. I am so quick to point out what I did wrong, to think about what I could do better and never think about the tenacity it takes to at least try to get it. We all do.

But sometimes you have to have guts. To lay it out on the line. Because you'll never know what's possible if you don't.

Seven (not so) deadly truths

Sometimes you have to be OK with the fact that your toddler's dinner is raisins, frozen-yogurt and a cereal bar. After two failed attempts to redeem a Living Social deal for a Mexican restaurant, Mark and I were finally able to sit down for some chips, salsa and burritos. Well ... sort of. Miles had no interest in the chips except to say "chip" and pick them up, crumbling them in his hand and tossing them on the floor. (Yes, we were those people.) I made him a plate of foods I know he likes - guacamole, chicken, beans - but nothing held his interest. While it would have behooved us to go straight home, I had a $5 reward at Menchie's and I was going to be damned if Miles' bad behavior was going to ruin my dessert.

The best laid plans are just that: Plans. I had this great idea that Mark could attend a cycling class at the YMCA while I taught BODYPUMP, as Mark would be able to put Miles in the Y child care. However, Miles woke up at 6, went down for a nap at 7 and slept till 9. Right when the class started.

Sometimes you can't deny what God gives you, even if your body says otherwise. Saturday was a beautiful day - sunny and in the 50s - and the fact that it was mid-January made the day that much more of a gift. As Mark missed his cycling class, I thought we could squeeze in a run. Sure, my legs were toast from RAW and teaching BP but I couldn't let a day like that slip by. We ran 4 miles around the park and though they didn't feel so great, I was happy to see a 9:07 pace, perfect negative splits and two miles that began with an 8.

A haircut can make you feel like a new woman. In keeping with a New Year's promise to take care of myself, I tried a new to me, more affordable salon. The stylist was great - experienced, patient and an exercise enthusiast who is planning on getting her personal training certificate. We had a great chat about mountain climbers, and I have clean ends and refreshed layers.

You can go to the movies with your husband and not see the same movie. I'e been wanting to see "Silver Linings Playbook" since I read the book in early November but it didn't come to Fort Wayne until Christmas. And then there was other stuff to see, namely "Les Mis." When my in-laws requested to baby-sit (no joke), I pitched seeing a movie. One thing: Mark wanted to see "Zero Dark Thirty." As luck would have it, the movies start times were within 15 minutes and we were both happy to arrive together but see our own thing.

I always take big purses to the movies for one reason: Sneaking in my own snacks. For "Silver Linings Playbook," I took a mix of cashews, raisins, dried figs and chocolate-covered peanuts.

White bread tastes really, really good. I made a lemon basil chicken salad, and my stomach was set on a melt. The only problem was that I didn't have wheat bread thawed and didn't feel like spending 240 calories on the slices I had in the freezer. And so I had some of the white bread I keep on hand for Mark. Let me tell you, it was good. So good.

What's your truth?

Love muffin

Have you entered my Yoplait Greek 100 giveaway? Time's a tickin' ...

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I'm in a bit of a lull right now. Training is over and the holidays are a few weeks away. The weekends are quiet and time is seemingly plentiful. Well, unless of course it's nap time, and then there's never enough of that.

{insert mental image of nap time here. actual nap time image not Web appropriate since someone learned to take off a diaper.}

On Sunday, I tried to make the most of the 2.5 hours Miles gave me and went on a tear in the kitchen. I made Hungarian Goulash (later served over potato gnocchi), freezer breakfast burritos and Banana Coconut Muffins.

I might not have any holiday shopping done but damn if I can't be productive in the kitchen. Not only did the goulash make enough for dinner last night but there are leftovers for later in the week; Mark gave the burritos two thumbs up, saying they were better than McDonald's; and Miles actually ate the muffin. The whole darn thing.

Making muffins might not be a feat of greatness but given that I totally winged them (and almost forgot the egg), I think I deserve some points. Preferably in the form of a brownie.

Many of the recipes I found were not what I wanted or required ingredients (butter, coconut oil) that I didn't have. With two very ripe bananas, though, I was determined to make something. Not only for me but to take to my grandma next week. The sweet thing had a nasty fall last week, and there's nothing she needs more than a basket of tasty, easy to grab goodies.

She loves coconut, and I love the combination of coconut and bananas. Even better: Coconut, bananas and pineapple. I think there's a drink like that somewhere ... Anyway, what came out of the oven was a moist, flavorful muffin that's just sweet enough.

Like my grandma.

Banana Coconut Muffins

1 cup whole wheat flour
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1.5 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup coconut
2 very ripe bananas, mashed
1/3 cup pineapple juice (from can of pineapple tidbits)
1/2 cup canola oil
1 egg
1/4 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1/2 cup pineapple tidbits

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Spray muffin tin with non-stick spray or line with muffin papers.

In a bowl, whisk together flours, baking powder, salt and coconut. In a separate bowl, combine mashed bananas, pineapple juice, oil, egg and extract. Add wet ingredients to dry, whisking to just combine. Fold in pineapple bits.

Fill muffin cups 2/3 full with batter and bake for 20-25 minutes, or until a tester comes out barely clean. Cool. Makes 13 muffins.

Girl's day out

There's no better gift you can give a friend than your time.

Well, that and a copy of "Run Like a Mother." Duh.

Note: I did not give my friend a back ho though that fine piece of construction equipment could come in handy when ... well, for something. I'm sure of it.

My gorgeous friend Heather celebrated her birthday on Friday, and today we got the chance to celebrate together. Without kids. Without husbands. Just us. And if you think it's no big deal, we could not remember the last time we hung out just the two of us. I'm thinking it's the 30-some minutes we spent on a 5K course in April.

Pretty sad, if I do say so myself.

As luck would have it, my name was picked in a Beauty Bar drawing at the Aveda experience store, helping us to mark the occasion. I wasn't quite sure what a Beauty Bar was but when I hear the words "neck and shoulder massage," I don't ask questions.

The Beauty Bar experience is much more than a massage. Greeted with a cup of Aveda Comforting Tea, we were treated to an aromatherapy journey, a stress-relieving hand massage, makeup finishing touch and a hair consultation.

For more than an hour and a half, we were scrubbed and rubbed, primped and pampered.

My hands were smoothed, my eyes were de-puffed.

A tinted moisturizer evened out my skin tone, and beautiful green shadows was swept across my eyelid. My locks, still wet from a post-run, shower were deftly braided into a chic style that I'm antsy to re-create.

More than getting dolled up, it was a learning experience. It was incredibly interesting to learn more about my favorite hair care and beauty company and the science behind the products. The consultant, Alisha, who helped me was incredibly knowledgeable and was quick to point out that health and wellness isn't just about eating right and exercising. It's about taking care of you, as a person. 

And today, Heather and I took care of us. Our friendship. And a couple little plastic cards.

Hello, new Mosscara (in Earth). I will wear you tomorrow.

Week(end) spot

Lazy days of summer.

I'm not exactly sure who coined that phrase but I'd like to meet him. Mostly, so I can tell him he's a liar.

Our summer has been anything but lazy - traveling, training, BODYPUMP certification, Miles' birthday and generally fulfilling life's obligations has left our summer weekends full and exhausting. I felt so out of sorts as August rolled in that if someone offered me a free trip, I might have turned it down. Well, unless it was by myself and involved seeing my best girlfriend.

The start of the school year, always the unofficial end to summer, has seemed to bring a close to the non-stop social engagements. For the past few weeks, Mark and I have found ourselves with pockets of leisure time. I finally made it to the farmers market and had the chance to catch up with girlfriends.

We've been to the zoo, maximizing our membership, and wandered the aisles of Target with no time constrictions or worry. It was like we didn't have a care in the world only to find out what that really feels like this weekend.

My in-laws are kind enough to take Miles, overnight, one evening a month. Mark and I asked to cash in our August "voucher" on Saturday so that we could go to Taste of the Arts. It seemed like the kind of event we always talk about going to but never actually attend. There was live music, art displays and more than 30 food vendors offering tasting-size treats.

None of which I tasted. Because it was 900 degrees. I'm all about the arts and definitely about the tasting but neither Mark nor I thought we'd have a lot of fun trying tamales with sweat dripping down our backs. I'd save that for my long run. The sweat - not the tamales.

Instead, we found ourselves at a nearby bar (where no one knew our name), ordering burgers and downing fried pickles. I was a bit bummed that we didn't do the cool thing but this place had the best burger. It was on a pretzel bun, which was soft and chewy, and it was juicy and flavorful.

We finished up dinner at, oh, 6:30. Yeah, a night without baby doesn't mean you suddenly adopt a more respectable dinner hour. We figured that we could grab a redbox and still get me to bed on time.

Here's the thing about redox, though. No matter what you do - whether you reserve online or go to one in the middle of nowhere - you will have to wait at least five minutes as two people who have no idea what movie they want to see suddenly decide to select five. I became rather agitated and insisted that Mark take pictures of me until it was our turn. The photos were unremarkable but they did show off my $1 Gap shorts.

Just another good thing to happen this weekend.

How was your weekend?

Wild time

I'm not sure where I got the idea that doing things with my child would be fun. My grandma would say that it's because I watched too many soap operas as a teenager. I would like to argue that I'm a hopeless optimist ... even though I know that's a crack of bull.

Last night, Mark and Miles picked me up from work so that we could head to the Fort Wayne Children’s Zoo’s annual Zooau. The postcard advertised picnic fare, games, free rides and family fun.

Read: It advertised a meal that I did not have to cook and entertainment for my child that did not involve Elmo and his goldfish and his crayon.

The picnic fare turned out to be hot dogs and chips, which is great for families with children older than 2 but how the heck am I supposed to give Miles a bag of chips. Seriously.

My child did manage to take down the hot dog and part of his bun. He might have been holding out. Seeing as he is the brightest child this side of the Mississippi, he was able to read that we had frozen treat tickets.

Push-Ups are delicious. Because I said so.

After destroying Miles’ faith in humanity by taking away said deliciousness, we tried to navigate our way through the zoo to the log ride. Mark has been wanting to take our child on this ride since we got the membership and it was free. Free trumps rational thought when taking a tired, more than likely hungry baby on a ride that requires him to sit still.

The picture says it all. I’m tired, he’s irritated and we’re both wondering when the damn thing will end.

I praised grilled cheesus when it was over only to be frustrated by the throngs of folks wandering around like zombies in search of the nearest relief. Determined-to-leave moms be damned! We want misters!

As we walked to the car, I lamented to Mark that the Zooau was supposed to be this great thing we did as a family. It was supposed to be fun. We were supposed to be making memories. Instead, I was daring my husband to run over misguided youths with the stroller and kick people who stepped in our way. I wanted to toss the child in the trunk and see whether my Mazda lived up to the Zoom-Zoom hype.

I, of course, would never do the latter. Safety all the way. It is possible that I might “accidentally” clip a 10-year-old with a stroller if he was walking unaware around the zoo as he played with a PSP.

Notes for next year:

Only go to the Zooau if it is not 900 degrees.

Go at a weird time when there will be less people.

Bring actual sustenance, such as carrot sticks, fruit and Diet Coke.

Ride the ride first before anyone gets cranky.

Do not let apprehensive child touch blow-up hockey mascot as it will result in uncontrollable screaming.

Give the tickets (and the child) to the grandparents and meet girlfriends for margaritas.

Editor’s note: I guess it didn’t help my attitude toward people that I was suffering from painful bloat, which I’m attributing to an overpriced nutrition bar I purchased at the coffee shop in the morning. Shakelee’s Cinch, my stomach does not like you.

Sunday bliss

Sunday was the best kind of day.

There was no long long run on the schedule. There was no laundry list of errands to run. We didn't have anywhere to be or have anyone to see. For the first weekend day in a long time, Mark, Miles and I could just be.

And, I'm not gonna lie, it was glorious.

We started our day with breakfast at Spyro's, our favorite Greek spot in Fort Wayne. After my Olympic skillet settled, we went for a decent 5.4-mile run and came home for showers, snacks and more. While I did have to run to Target for diapers, a trip to Tarjay never really qualifies as an errand :)

While that might seem like enough to make a day good, the best was yet to come.

Miles and I took a much needed nap (!!) and then it was off to the library.

Mark took Miles to the library when I was Indianapolis, and he has spent the entire week raving about the experience. The children's section has a play room, with a specified area just for non-walkers.

There are tactile toys, board books, tummy time mats with mirrors and a giant rocking chair. There's even a mother's room with changing area and a rocker and Boppy for nursing. Seriously fantastic.

Miles' favorite part was playing with the beads with a close second being chasing the 7-year-old trying to play trains with his dad.

We did read a little bit and even thought it was a Sesame Street pop-up book, Miles was less interested in Elmo and more interested in getting into things he shouldn't.

Side note: He did spend enough time with Elmo to rip off his hand. Yeah, that was a fun trip to the service desk.

Afterward, we stopped at Dunkin Donuts for an iced coffee.

Wait, maybe that was my favorite part.

How was your weekend? Low key or busy?

And a big congrats to every one who raced this weekend!