Celebration of sorts.

So I celebrated reaching my goal yesterday by...what else...running!

I went back to the hike and bike trail and ran 7 miles. I contemplated running 10.5 (three times around), but decided to stick with 7. I'll move up in a few weeks.

Now that I've reached my goal weight, I can't rest on my laurels. Besides continuing to run and training for The Gusher that will be in March (I'm going to run the half) and for the White Rock Marathon in December, I have some mental work to do.

Sometimes, when I look at myself in the mirror, I see what I have done. I see a woman who is a good weight for her size. Yeah, there's some saggy skin, but again, you don't do the weight yo-yoing and childbearing that I've done without some sort of saggy haunting you forever. I see a woman who was wearing a 12/14 who can now wear a 6/8, depending. I see my ribs (not much, but some). I see my well-defined collarbone. I see the muscles in my legs.

I see that I have accomplished my goal.

But sometimes, I look in the mirror and I still see fat. Not just me nit-picking about this or that, but I see myself as I was three months ago.

I need to fix that in my head so that the true picture is always there.

---

Today is my baby's birthday. She is nine.

I look at my children and I am so full of love for them that I feel like I could burst. I want to point to them and yell to everyone, "Look at those two kids! Look at them! Aren't they just the most awesome kids you've ever seen?"

I try not to be that parent who thinks her child could never do any wrong. Believe me, I know each and every last one of my children's bad habits and failings (they're remarkably similar to my own).

But I still think they are the best people in the world and I can't believe that Russ and I are responsible for all that beautifulness, smartness and just general all-around goodness.

They are slices of heaven on Earth.

Happy birthday Katherine Michele. And happy big brother day to Kyle. He's been a good one; I think even Miss K would admit that in her moments of weakness. ;-)

130: Mission Accomplished.

So I jumped on the scale this morning per my usual and the digital scale went right to 130 and stayed there.

Blink.

But I didn't get to run yesterday! And I had a handful of multi-grain pita chips as a snack!

130, still. The skies didn't part and angels didn't sing, and I really didn't get a lot of time to relish it -- Russ and I were getting garbage out for pick-up today.

But still, 130!!!

Of course, it's not like I'm a better person or my life is easier or anything now. I went shopping yesterday and couldn't find a thing I was interested in buying, clothes-wise. I have yet to come up with an idea for my baby girl's birthday which is tomorrow.

And my kitchen is a mess.

Before I started losing weight, I would have added pickiness, messiness and cluelessness to my list that already included "obese."

At least now I have one less thing on my list.

---

I broke my streak of running yesterday. If it had been raining lightly, or if there had been a break in the rain, I would have gotten out there and run.

But there was no break and there was no raining lightly at all. So I did what I could:

• I ate more reasonably than I may have otherwise. I'm to the point where I have been reasonably "cheating" from time to time. Not every day and not every week, but I'll have a Hershey's Kiss or a small cookie if I feel the need. I have more will power to not eat an entire hamburger, but to just eat half. I didn't even tempt myself yesterday.

•  I bought a 7-pound kettlebell and did the 25-minute DVD workout that it came with. It wasn't the same as running at all, but I am feeling it in my thighs this morning.

•  I drank a lot of water.

I still felt panicky. In the evening, I paced between the kitchen and the window, hoping that it would let up enough for me to run a little -- two miles would have been good.

I have some things I have to do this morning around the house, but as soon as I possibly can, I am running, running, running.

Whew.

I weighed this morning. Three days past the last Christmas celebration and I'm back to where I was. The digital scale teased me by slipping down to 130, but then it popped back to 131.0.

Keeping with my extreme personality, I spent part of yesterday convinced that I was never going to lose weight again, that my body was going to rebel and put weight back on, just because, etc., etc., etc.

I'm just a little crazy.

It's supposed to rain today. I'm hoping that I can get a run in before the rains come. It's warm outside, so if it's a light rain, I'll go ahead and get it in. If it's a hard rain...I don't know what I'll do.

A friend of mine recommended a kettlebell workout so I may look into that today while I'm out and about as an addition to running and so I have something in the event of rain.

The weather is supposed to be warm and dry tomorrow, so I'm planning on a nice, long run at the hike and bike trail.

I'm just feeling panicky about the rain right now,  like I will suffocate if I don't run. That's good because it shows how important running has become to me, but bad because...what do I do if it rains?

Running away.

A little more than nine years ago, on Jan. 1, 2002, I woke up really early in the hospital. No need to panic -- I had just had a baby the day before, so it was all good.

The reason why I woke up so early is that my endocrinologist was paying me a visit, doing his rounds so that he could get home, eat some black-eyed peas and watch some football.

I blearily-eyed did a fasting blood sugar draw. Sigh. My sugars were extremely high. He ordered an insulin shot immediately. The nurse gave it to me in my upper arm. Luckily, my blood sugars returned to normal ranges later that day, but my obstetrician told me that he considered me pre-diabetic, meaning that I would likely develop Type II diabetes in the next few years.

I've been there, done that with the various health problems that can crop up because of weight gain. I've had gestational diabetes with both pregnancies (during my pregnancy with Kate, I was insulin-dependent), high blood pressure, high cholesterol (the bad kind) and various aches and pains.

Trust me, getting out there and running every day is much better than giving yourself a shot in the stomach every morning. The hour or so I spend running is nothing compared to the hours I spent in physical therapy trying to strengthen my core so my back wouldn't ache so much, or the hours I spent in waiting rooms at the orthopedist or the imaging center.

I may end up with diabetes in the end; it runs in my family and genetics catches up with you eventually. But I'm going to put it off as long as I possibly can.

---

I got on the scale this morning. Ick.

I'm up a pound from my pre-Christmas low. I keep telling myself that it's only a pound, and I can make it up if I stick to my eating plan and continue to run. I've only had one day to recoup after all the Christmas stuff, and it will be fine. I'm planning on a long run at the hike and bike trail either Wednesday or Thursday.

And if I get to New Year's Day and I'm at 131 or 132 instead of 130, that's a lot better than 161.

The day after the day after.

We're done with Christmas. There were three days of it, all told, and lots of fun and good food.

The hardest part about trying to lose weight during a major holiday isn't the actual days of celebration, I don't think. A little indulgence isn't a bad thing.

It's when the celebration is over and it's time to go back to how you were eating before that's difficult.

I'm not a big sweets eater (neither are my kids, really). But I do love chips and crackers and dips, rolls and dressing -- savory, starchy items that are just as caloric as if I were eating three pieces of cheesecake. I don't keep a lot of sweets around the house, but I do have the chips and crackers around for snacks. Prior to the three days of Christmas, I was able to keep it under control and not have them at all, or have them in moderation.

Now it's time to go back to that. Sigh.

---

One thing I do have going for me is that I ran every single day, just like always. It was colder than usual here, so that was a challenge. But after 15 minutes or so, I warmed up enough to take my gloves and hat off.

I won't step on the scale until tomorrow or Wednesday, though. Once I get back on track with drinking my water and eating my usual meals, whatever weight I took on over the past couple of days will come off. I don't want to get on the scale and see a gain, no matter how small.

Counting.

Three months ago today, I started my 70,000th attempt at losing weight. Some of these attempts have had varying success. Most have been abject failures.

As of this morning, I have lost 30 pounds, and have 1.4 pounds to go to get to my goal of 130. There are no doubts in my mind that this is going to happen, by the way.

And as of 20 minutes ago, I have run 38 miles this week. Next week, I'm going to run even more.

---

I had a great Christmas today. I got a Tassimo from my husband and children and I'm very excited about that. I am serious about my coffee. My kids have both proclaimed this to be the "best Christmas ever," and Rusty was very happy about his fancy-schmancy Texas A&M golf bag.

It's been a great few days, a great year, and next year is going to be even better.

Give me that test now! :-)

The Gulf Terrace Hike and Bike Trail is basically a 2-mile loop with a 1.5 mile spur. (And I have since heard that on the weekends, it is crowded like nobody's business.)

While I was running the loop part on Wednesday, for some reason, I started thinking about 7th-grade P.E.

Let me just get this out of the way: I always hated P.E. when I was in school. For starters, the thought of wearing clothing that others had worn? OMG. There is not enough hot water and bleach in the UNIVERSE to make that OK. Really. And secondly, I pretty much sucked at every single thing we were told to do.

But on Wednesday, I was specifically thinking of 7th-grade P.E. and the Presidential Physical Fitness Test.

I don't believe they do this now, but basically, you were put through a series of tests -- sit-ups, pull-ups, push-ups, etc. -- and rated on how many you could do in a certain amount of time. I never could do enough.

And then there was the mile run. We were supposed to complete it in a set amount of time.

Ha!

I remember the P.E. teacher telling us that if we couldn't run the whole thing, to run the straights and walk the curves.

Double ha!

I couldn't run more than four feet without huffing and puffing, my side aching, and my head pounding.

So I couldn't do that, either.

I routinely failed the Presidential Physical Fitness Test, an irony I find especially delightful now that I'm 38 years old, with two half-marathons, two 10Ks and numerous 5Ks under my belt.

I'm not one to blame my failings on anyone else. My weight and food issues are all mine. I had a wonderful childhood with absolutely no crises, trauma or drama whatsoever.

But way back when I decided to run for the first time, I can honestly tell you that the first thought that went through my mind was the memory of that mile run in the 7th grade, which was probably the last time I had tried to run. And the thought that maybe I can't do this, maybe I can't run and shouldn't even try was there.

I am a research queen. If there's information about something out there, I can find it. So I researched, and figured out that most of my problems from back then stemmed from lack of hydration.

Put very simply: If you don't drink enough water, then you're going to have side pain and a pounding headache.

I drink a lot of water these days -- 100 ounces a day at least -- and I have yet to have side pains as a result of running. The huffing and puffing? That was again, lack of knowledge. I was starting out too fast and not pacing myself.

Now, had I known those things back then, I may not have finished the mile in the allotted time anyway. It would have been nice to have known, though, that my side pains, headaches and heavy breathing weren't because I "wasn't a runner," but were due to some very basic issues that could be easily solved.

Maybe I've been a runner all along, and just didn't know it.

100 minutes.

That's how long it took me to run seven miles at the Gulf Terrace Hike and Bike Trail yesterday afternoon. That's a little more than a 14-minute mile.

I'm not happy with that pace. At that pace, a half-marathon would take me a little more than 3 hours.

Not acceptable.

In 2007, I ran the Houston Half in 2 hours, 24 minutes. In 2010, I ran The Gusher Half in a little more than 3 hours (and that's without a lot of consistent running).

I'm planning on running The Gusher Half in March again, and I want to be back around the 2-hour mark.

So there's that.

The Hike and Bike Trail is a little too far for me to go for everyday, but for once-a-week, long, soul-cleansing runs, it's perfect.

---

Yesterday, I started off my run and about a mile into it, I passed another female runner. She was carrying a can of mace or pepper spray or something.

The trail is secluded. The only people around are other runners, bike-riders or walkers. The soccer fields are right there, but unless it's a Saturday, there aren't going to be too many people there.

I don't think about stuff like that. I feel safe here, where I grew up and where I'm raising my children. Maybe I'm stupid for feeling that way, but I do.

I run at night in my neighborhood. I get asked a lot, "Aren't you scared? Do you carry something with you?"

No. It's my neighborhood, for goodness' sakes. There may be some people who live lives that I don't personally approve of, but they keep to themselves.

I guess a drifter with blood lust could waltz into the neighborhood and take me out one night, but I can't live my life with "coulds." I refuse to do that.

Shakespeare wrote in "Julius Caesar" that

Cowards die many times before their deaths;
The valiant never taste of death but once.
Of all the wonders that I yet have heard.
It seems to me most strange that men should fear;
Seeing that death, a necessary end,
Will come when it will come.

I'm not going to deliberately put myself in situations that are dangerous.

Running on a secluded trail? Yes. Running on a secluded trail with lit dynamite strapped to my back? No.

Do I have a death wish? No. I have lots of plans for my life. I have kids to raise, books to read.

Am I going to stop living my life because I'm afraid? Hell, no.

One extra thing that I often lose when I lose weight is my give-a-damn.

I'm going to run. And I don't give a damn if it's at night or during the day or at a secluded trail.

Time.

I've run five miles every day since Saturday, bettering my time with each run.

When I first started running five miles occasionally a few weeks ago, it seemed like it took so much time. Now, it seems normal.

Time is a BIG thing in my life. When you're trying to corral two kids, get to work on time, get the kids to all their stuff on time, and get food on the table at a reasonable time, you tend to pay attention to it. A lot.

I think back, WAY back, to before I had kids, and wonder what I did with all my free time. We lived in a two-bedroom apartment, we both worked, and Russ was in school finishing up his second degree. But still, we had tons of time.

I'm pretty sure I wasted a lot of it.

When I run, time seems to stand still. It's not that I'm taking time away from things I want/need to do; it's more like I am making time FOR something. Semantics, I know, but you know how I have to trick myself into doing things.

I used to spend my five miles thinking, "I should be inside folding clothes. Those clothes have been in that basket for two days. I need to do that." Then, I realized: THOSE CLOTHES HAD BEEN IN THAT BASKET FOR TWO DAYS; what's another hour?

I try to time my runs for when my children are settling down for bed, or doing something else. I usually go out after supper, while they're doing the showering thing, and then they watch a little TV. They're both older now, and Russ is here to deal with anything that crops up. On the weekends, I go out in mid- to late-afternoon, when they're outside playing.

(It's good, in a way, because the kids are used to coming to me for every single thing. Honestly, if they are sitting on the couch beside their dad, they will get up and find me -- wherever I am in the house -- and ask me if they can have or do whatever. If I'm out running, they have two options: ask Dad or wait until I get back in.)

I am now taking an hour out of my day to do something that I didn't previously do, but everything is still getting done. I am still cooking supper my usual four out of seven nights. I am still getting laundry done and folded. My house is probably cleaner than it's been in a while. I'm up to date on the TV shows I watch, and I've finished two books that I've had lingering for a few months.

Running keeps me centered. It helps me focus. I can get overwhelmed fairly easily. I get over it and get things done, but there is this period of time where I'm internally (and sometimes externally) freaking out. For whatever reason -- endorphins, oxygenation, blood flow, whatever -- running keeps me from feeling overwhelmed.

---

Beginning tomorrow, I'm off until Jan. 3 (the benefits of working in higher education). Since Russ is off until Monday, I think I'm going to go to the Hike and Bike Trail in Beaumont to run a few times before then. I need a change of scenery. I want to up my mileage a bit, and the prospect of running around my neighborhood SIXTEEN TIMES (to get a total of 8 miles in) just bores me.

The trail is 3.5 miles around, so I can make two laps, get 7 miles and call it good.

---

I jumped on the scale this morning on a whim.

131.4.

I'm almost there.

"Buy the ticket. Take the ride."

I was you, almost three months ago.

I was overweight. I knew I was, because my underwear was too tight. That's always my last straw -- underwear is supposed to be stretchy and forgiving, and when it's no longer forgiving, it's time.

I wasn't happy. I mean, I was happy -- I love my husband, kids, family, job -- but I wasn't happy at my core. I wasn't taking joy in LIFE at its core. I was holding back.

If a new adventure presented itself, I refused it. I was too tired. I didn't have anything to wear. I was afraid people would talk about my weight. I was afraid to look at them because I just knew their faces would register shock or disgust at my weight.

And beyond the shallowness of my concern about my weight, I was starting to feel physical effects, too. My joints were aching. I got tired very easily. I didn't have any official bloodwork or tests done, but I'm sure my cholesterol was out of whack and my blood pressure was high.

I am here to tell you that YOU CAN DO THIS.

Let me repeat it:

YOU CAN DO THIS.

If you are holding back from life,  if you are staying home rather getting out there, if you overly tired and achy, YOU CAN DO THIS.

The quote in the title of this entry is from the infamous Gonzo journalist, Hunter S. Thompson. In the context of "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas," it refers to getting into something that could be a lot of trouble, but deciding that the trouble is completely worth it.

I co-opted it, though, to mean that I'm going to throw myself into life, 100-percent. Every day, I am going to stretch myself in different ways. I'm going to take the extra effort to make every second of life as full as I possibly can.

I am going to buy that ticket. I am going to take that ride.

Every single day.

I want you to do the same. If you need encouragement, if you need help, if you need someone to talk to, I am here. I've been there. I've felt that. I promise you. I'm not perfect. I don't have all the answers. But I will listen, listen, listen.

(I mean, come on. My UNDERWEAR was too tight!)

Get in line with me. Buy the ticket.

Take the ride.

Progress by the numbers.

Weight lost (since Sept. 25): 29 pounds (161 to 132 as of this morning).

Clothes sizes down: five (from a 14 to a 6 -- I am wearing a skirt to work today that's a 6!)

Number of days/nights spent running: 52 (That's an estimate. I know for sure I was running on Oct. 31, because I blogged about it, but I'm pretty sure I had been running for a week or so at that point.)

Miles ran: About 170. (Again, an estimate because the miles vary.)

Arguments, stresses that were defused because I ran them out: About 8.

Running tights purchased: 1 pair, although I see more in my future!

Attitude (on a scale from 1-10, with 10 being the best): 10!!

Energy (on a scale from 1-10 with 10 being the best): 10!!

I'll say that's progress!

---

Over the past three days, I ran 14 miles. I have shaved a minute off my 5-mile time, which is just about 12 minutes over my best time back in the day.

A few years ago when I was running steadily, I could run 5K in 23 minutes. I ran the Houston Half Marathon in 2 hours, 24 minutes; I had wanted to beat 2 hours and 30 minutes, so I was happy with that time.

I am not a fast runner, by any means -- I have to WORK for that -- and it frustrates me. I'm built more for long distances, not for short sprints.

To get faster, I play mind games and make rules for my runs. My run is basically broken up into laps, since each lap around my neighborhood is a half-mile.

On the first lap, I have to run slowly and I can think about anything at all. Anything in the universe -- ANYTHING!

On the second lap, I have to clear my mind and run faster. The key is clearing my mind. I think that when it's cluttered with stuff -- work, kids, books, random thoughts -- it slows me down. When you think about it, running is about getting rid of the clutter -- you wear the least amount of clothing you can, and the lightest shoes that work for you. It only makes sense that you'd also get rid of the mental weight, too.

On the third lap, I run faster. The fourth lap, I give myself a break -- I can return to thinking about stuff and back down a bit on the speed, and then I go back to running faster.

And so on until I've finished my mileage.

It seems complicated and I'm some of you are thinking, "Beth, just freaking run faster." I can't do that. Even though I love running and it makes me happy, my mind still thinks that I can't do this, that I shouldn't be out there -- a 38-year-old woman who is not athletic should not be running -- so I have to trick it.

Luckily, I'm an easy mark.

Different people; same feelings

I've been reading "What I Talk About When I Talk About Running" by Haruki Murakami. It's a collection of essays about running. Murakami is a Japanese author. He's written a few novels and does translations of English novels into Japanese.

And he runs.

On every page that I have read, he reveals something that makes me think, "OMG. He's in my head. That's what running does for me!" or "That's exactly how it is."

The fear when he feels a tweak while running. The frustration when a run doesn't go like he had hoped. The need for routine and consistency. The freedom that finishing a lengthy run gives you.

It is so strange that I have so much in common with a 50-something-year-old Asian man whom I never ever have met, all because of running.

---

I fought against running tights for a very long time. For one thing, no matter how much weight I lose, I still have a skewed picture in my head of how my body looks. And running tights are, well, TIGHT.

I also tend to think of running tights as something for Serious Runners. Even though I run every single day/night (including the other night after I got home from work from at 8 p.m.), I don't think of myself as a Serious Runner.

But I'm all about making sure I do this thing, making sure that I don't let up. I knew that cold weather was coming, and I needed something that wouldn't allow me to make excuses. So a few weeks ago, I went to Academy and looked at tights. I bought a pair and now I am hooked. I need more running tights. I want to wear them everywhere.

I bought Under Armour ones, and their slogan, "The only layer you need for cold weather" is 100-percent accurate. Of course, I've only tested them in low-30 temps, but my legs stayed warm.

And if I wear a big shirt over them, I don't really care how I look. :-)

---

I promised an update on the glucosamine I started taking two weeks ago.

Is it working?

Well, my hip flexors aren't aching as I run anymore. But that could be that my old body is getting used to the pounding I'm putting it through more than anything. I ran five miles last night (had to atone for the sin of fudge) -- usually that would mean that I'd be a little sore when I wake up -- and I wasn't even a little bit sore this morning.

So I will keep taking it. Can't hurt, right?

And then there were three...

I kept the pound loss that I saw earlier in the week. I now have three pounds to go to get to my fighting weight.

If I could get there by New Year's Day, that would be incredible. A new year, a totally new me (OK, not totally. I'm still going to be grouchy and stuff, but I'll look really healthy and fit while I'm being grouchy!)

---

One thing I'm looking forward to about this Christmas break -- besides all the family stuff and everything that goes along with that -- is that I'll be able to run as long as I want.

I run 3-4 miles a day, depending on what's going on at my house. If it's a night when a kid has something going on after school and into the evening, I run three. If it's a night where there's not a lot going on (Tuesdays and the weekends), I'll run four.

Christmas holidays means no extracurricular activities for the kidlets, which means more running time for me. :-)

The plan is to up my daily mileage to 5 miles, and run 8-milers on the weekend. I also want to get out to the Hike and Bike Trail in Beaumont. I've heard it's a nice place to run, and well, my neighborhood gets old after a while.

---

I may have mentioned that I am slightly...ahem, obsessive about my running. I am not a numbers kind of girl, but when it comes to running, I am all over them. I want to know my time, mileage and all that.

Time is easy enough -- I have a cheap watch with a stopwatch on it. I may look into something fancier after Christmas.

Mileage is where I enter the realm of the DSM.

One time around my neighborhood is a half-mile. I was told this and I have confirmed it many times. So, six times around is three miles. When I first started running longer distances, I relied on myself to keep track of how many times I had run around the neighborhood.

That didn't work. Once I run about two miles or so, I enter this weird dreamlike state -- the infamous runner's high -- where I am barely aware of my surroundings. All that matters is the run. So I'd lose track, and I'd have to think, "OK, when that red truck pulled out of that driveway, was that the third time around? Or the fifth?"

I tried everything -- pedometers are only good if you use the same measured steps every single time. Same thing for the Nike+ dealie.

So here is my highly accurate, extremely technical solution: Popsicle sticks.

Katie is very much into art, so we have a lot of random craft supplies -- paints, markers, glitter and popsicle (or "craft") sticks.

I decide how many miles I'm going to run, and get that number of sticks. The popsicle sticks start out in my left hand. After the first half-mile, I transfer one to my right hand, and as I complete a mile, I toss it into my driveway as I pass.

Yes, I'm completely sane. Why do you ask? ;-)

My better half.

They say that behind every great man is a great woman, or something like that. I could sit here and analyze that cliche for HOURS, literally, and bore everyone to death -- if the woman is so great, then why isn't she leading? Does a man really need a woman in order to be great? What does "great" really mean?

Blah, blah, blah, etc. (That literary criticism class has come in handy more than I thought it would.)

I am not great by *any* stretch of the imagination, but I do realize that without my husband's support, I could not do what I have done and what I continue to do.

I tell people that even though Russ and I are almost complete opposites, it works. With my "Extreme Girl" personality, if I didn't have him around, I would be like a helium-filled balloon, floating to the heights without any direction. He keeps me tethered, keeps me real, keeps me rational.

But he also knows when to get out of my way.

When I decided to return to graduate school, he was cool with it. He took over with the kids for the one night a week I had class and the multiple nights/afternoons/evenings that I was at the library. He ran interference with the kids while I set myself up in the kitchen to write papers upon papers. He pretended to be interested in all the literary blahblahblahfishcakes I came home with, saying "Yeah, I see what you mean," and "Hmmmm" at the appropriate times.

When I decided that, in addition to working full-time, going to grad school, teaching a twirling class one night a week and volunteering at a women's job center, I wanted to teach developmental writing part-time two nights a week, he spent his afternoons and evenings juggling kids' schedules and driving from one end of Vidor to the other.

I'm done with graduate school, and I decided at the end of the summer that I needed to be home with my family more than I needed to be in a classroom teaching people about adverbs, but he still supports me:

"Go run," he says to me. "You need that."

"Kids, leave your mom alone for five seconds so she can get ready to run."

"How was your run?"

He doesn't pretend to understand my *need* to run. He likes to tell me that the first person to run what is now called a marathon dropped dead at the end. He trips over my running shoes where I leave them in the middle of the kitchen entry way and doesn't comment. He ignores the tangle of sports bras, t-shirts, running shorts, and socks that I leave in a corner in our bedroom for easy picking.

He's not a rah-rah kind of a guy with my running. He's not going to be one of those husbands who goes to every race, video camera in one hand and lawn chair in the other.

But he knows what I need, and selflessly steps to one side so I can get there.

Bunch o'stuff

I had a cookie yesterday. A bigger-than-normal chocolate chip cookie. We had a potluck at work and I managed to eat the meal part sensibly, so I decided to get a dessert.

And, unlike the mouse in the book "If You Give a Mouse a Cookie...," I did not go insane and start demanding things. I also did not go on a wild sugar spree, as I feared.

I ate the cookie, appreciated the cookie, had a slight sugar rush from eating the cookie...and then went back to my usual thing.

I ran three miles last night, and this morning, I was at the same weight I was yesterday (I'm showing a one-pound loss).

I'm hoping this shows that I'm learning how to deal with food. My personality is not one of moderation. I like to call myself "Extreme Girl."

If I'm happy, I'm the happiest person in the universe. If I'm sad, I'm the saddest person in the universe.

And previously, if I were going to eat sweets, then I was going to eat the hell out of those sweets. Maybe yesterday proved I'm moving beyond that.

---

I was in my office yesterday afternoon and an advertising sales rep stopped by to bring me a holiday gift. This is a woman I've talked to three or four times in the past three months. She's always come to my office, sat down in my chairs and we've talked. I've bought advertising in her publication a couple of times and we're friendly.

So yesterday, she peeked into my office and said, "Oh, I'm sorry. This isn't Beth's office anymore? Is she here today?"

Now, obviously, I am Beth, so I was puzzled and asked her to repeat her question. She did, saying just about the same thing.

When I told her that I am Beth, she was shocked. "But you look really different," she said. "Have you changed your hair or something?"

No, I've just dropped the equivalent of a 2- or 3-year-old in weight.

---

Today will be a struggle to get my run in, but I am going to do it. I work for the Lamar Institute of Technology, and tonight is our fall commencement. I have to attend because I am part of the executive administration.

I'll admit that I LOVE attending graduation. I remember all too well those days of working my rear end off and the sweetness of walking across the platform and getting that diploma. Also, I get to wear my academic regalia -- I earned my master's degree a year ago -- and I love that.

Anyway, after graduation, I have a few errands to run, so it will be 9 p.m. or later before I'm home. But I'm still going to run.

I am still going to run.

Reasons why: For my daughter.

My baby girl Katie will be 9 (gasp) in just 16 days.

I remember when she was born. She was about three weeks early and she was so very tiny -- just a little over 6 pounds. She was long, which made her look even skinnier. It seemed like she stayed so tiny for weeks -- there was an outfit that I tried on her single day that was too big and then all of the sudden, it was too small. I should have known that was a harbinger for things to come.

Katie is tall.

She is almost as tall as her older brother and me. She is as tall or taller than her speech therapist at school, her two grandmothers, a co-worker of mine. There is a girl in the neighborhood who is a year older than Katie, and Miss K towers over her.

I know that girls on average have a difficult time with body images. I am only imagining what is to come with Katie, with the height added into the mix.

So I take care of the nomenclature that I use in regards to my body, to my weight loss.

I'm not getting "skinny"; I'm getting "healthy." I'm not dieting; I'm eating foods that are better for my body.

It is difficult because I have my own body image issues, my own demons to battle.

When I tuck Kate into bed every night, after I kiss her goodnight, I whisper into her ear, "You are smart. You are beautiful. You are the most awesome girl I know."

And she always giggles and says, "I know."

I hope she really does know.

My mantra.

So it's the season of giving, and I bought something for myself. I'm awesome that way.

On Etsy, I found someone who makes these bracelets customized with your own quote, within a certain character limit, for about $20.

So I ordered this one. It reads, "I am not afraid. I was born to do this." -- Joan of Arc.

I wear it constantly, especially while I'm running. I typically take off all jewelry, but this, I keep on. The back edges are a little rough, and while I run, I can feel it digging into my wrist slightly.

And it reminds me: I can do this. I can run as far as I want.

And I do.

Swoon.

I bought new running shoes Saturday night, and I ran with them for the first time yesterday.

I. Am. In. Love.

I got the Nike Free Run+. They are *so* light. They're like wearing socks, only with a sole. And, they're NOT pink (one of my main pet peeves about the UNIVERSE is that for women's sports equipment, they just take stuff made for men and make it pink. GAG.).

They didn't magically make me run faster or anything, but that will come.

---

I have a collarbone -- you can see it!

I went into our laundry room to throw something away yesterday. I was wearing a shirt with an open collar and I caught a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror on the door in there.

Even though I know I've lost weight and have all kinds of proof, tangible and otherwise, I still think of myself as heavy. It will take a while to change that picture of myself I keep in my mind. I'm not sure that I want to change that picture. I am afraid that if I get comfortable with my weight, if I get used to being normal, I will get lazy.

That's what happened last time. I cannot let that happen again.

I will not let that happen again.

The downside.

(Disclaimer: I am very happy that I am losing weight. I wanted this. Nevertheless, there are some things that go along with it that are problematic.)

1. You have to buy new clothes.  That, in itself, is not a big problem for me. I love to shop and am thrilled that there are more clothes available to me now that I weigh less. BUT, this is why, at any given time, women have three or more sizes of clothing in their closets. I started out in sizes 12 and 14 (eek). After two or three weeks, those clothes were too big. Not just, hey, they're too big, but hey, I need suspenders and lots of belts to wear these in public. So I bought some new clothes in a size 10. Those are now too big, in the same way. I went last night and bought two new pairs of blue jeans in a size EIGHT (YAY!). I probably should have gotten the 6, but they were just a little tight. Same thing in sweaters and shirts and blouses, although I have continued to wear my too-big shirts and stuff there.

The bad thing about this, about having multiple sizes, is that if I do indulge around the holiday season, I know I have bigger pants. I should toss them, but they're only a month old. Dilemma.

2. Loose skin. You don't carry two people around in your body for 9+ months without there being horrific repercussions down the line. And when you add a weight gain (non-baby-related) of 100 pounds (this is from a few years ago)...it is ugly. I said last time that I was going to get a tummy tuck, but I didn't. It seems silly to go through surgery for such a vain reason. I'm never going to wear a bikini -- I didn't when I was a teen and didn't have massive stretch marks and loose skin -- but I think it would do wonders for how I feel about myself.

3. Weird areas of weight loss. I lose lots of weight in my...chest. I still have these hips that W-I-D-E, but up top, I'm an 11-year-old boy (literally, I can wear Kyle's shirts and if you've seen him, he's skin and bones). I also lose weight (or something) in my feet. My fingers are another one. My wedding ring is *very* loose, and since I've had it sized up and down so much over the past almost-16 years, the jeweler has recommended that I not mess with it again. Sigh.

4. Clothing choices. I'm not there YET, but once you get into small sizes -- 6, 4 and 2 -- it is very difficult to find age-appropriate clothing. Apparently, women who are those sizes only want to party-hearty, and to do that, they must wear very short denim mini skirts and see-through sweaters. Umm...except when they're 38-year-old women who work in a professional/academic setting. Monday through Thursday (most weeks), I'm wearing dresses and skirts and nice pants. Last time, I went through this, I found things at SteinMart, but you can only have so many black and grey and brown skirts. I ended up doing a lot of online ordering, from Anthropologie and J. Crew.

5. People notice. This is a double-edged sword. On one hand, I am thrilled that people are noticing that I've lost weight. Apparently, this week it really started showing, because I had several people comment on it. On the other hand, it makes me very self-conscious that they are noticing, because what if I gain back a few pounds? What if I totally fall off the wagon overnight and go on an Oreo cookie bender? It's not going to happen, but what if?

---

This is how much I've changed from four months ago. Yesterday morning, I had a work thing I needed to briefly attend. We had a busy day planned and I figured I'd run at night. On my way home from the work thing, I noticed very ominous-looking clouds, and decided I wouldn't take any chances. I got home and ran right then. The threat of rain never materialized (at my house anyway), but I didn't want to miss my run!

Intentions.

We are 21 days from the New Year (and 20 days until my BABY is 9!), and I'm starting to think about intentions already.

Not "resolutions." Intentions. For me, "intentions" sounds more forceful and decisive than "resolutions." When I say that I intend to do something, I'm going to do it. "Resolve" to me sounds weak, like, "well, maybe I'll do it or maybe I won't."

So, intentions for the new year. The year I turn, ahem, 39.

Hopefully, I will have reached my goal of 130 by then. If not, then I intend to do that ASAP in 2011.

I intend to run every single day in 2011. Every. Single. Day. As in, not skipping any. I've run every single day since mid-October, so I'm certain I can do this. I do need to come up with contingency plans in the event that there is torrential rain (I'll run in light showers) or snow or, God forbid, a hurricane.

I'm going to run a marathon in 2011. There, I've said it, out loud and in public. I've actually signed up and paid to run in two marathons in the past...and didn't do them. Not this time.

A co-worker of mine ran her first marathon this past weekend, the White Rock Marathon in Dallas. I talked to her about it this past week and she was so full of excitement and accomplishment that I thought,  "I want that. I want to do that."

I'm lucky in that there are five marathons in places not too far from me: There's the Rock N Roll Marathon in San Antonio, the White Rock Marathon in Dallas, the Houston Marathon, the Austin Marathon, and of course, The Gusher Marathon here in Beaumont.

The Gusher is a little too quick for me to be ready for the marathon -- March 12, 2011 -- so I'm just going to run the half. The Houston is in January, and it's done by a lottery system, so I'm not able to do that one in 2011. The Austin Marathon is in February, so again, too quick for me to get ready.

That makes the Rock N Roll one and the White Rock one the only possibilities for 2011. I will be in one of them. Twenty-six-point-two miles here I come.

---

I stepped on the scale this morning to see that I've lost two pounds this week. This was nice surprise; I was expecting a one-pound loss.

I had lots of opportunities to fail this week, but I managed not to do that. So 134 it is.

Consistency.

Every day, there is a five-minute space in time where I seriously think, "I'm not going to run today. I'm tired, I have things to do inside, my favorite show is coming on later. I'll just sit today out."

But I don't.

I know myself too well. I know that if I skip ONE DAY, that will be it for me. If I can justify taking a day off, then I can justify taking a second day and a third and a fourth and next thing I know, it will be weeks since I last ran and I will weigh 200 pounds.

Most running authorities recommend that people not run every day. I have to, though. I cannot let up one day. If it's an evening where we have lots going on, then I may only run 2 miles instead of 3-5.

But still, I run.

I say this to let y'all know that even though I'm passionate about running and feel great, it's not easy for me. Every day, I have to push myself to go from skirt and heels to running tights and running shoes instead of straight to pajamas. Once I get my running clothes on, I know I'm going to run at some point.

And once I get outside and start running, I'm so happy that I did.

Food fight.

My running is only part of the weight loss. The other part is changing the way I thought about food and how I reacted to it.

I like food. I really do. I have some things here and there that I'm not crazy about, but in general, I love food.

But my view of it was (still is) skewed.

I'd say I was on a "diet" or that I was "watching what I ate," and then at lunch, I'd drive down to Sonic and get a cheeseburger with mayo, tots with cheese and a Route 44 Diet Coke.

So what I was watching was myself gaining 10 pounds because of the crap I was eating.

I started off with Weight Watchers Online, and am still basically using that structure, although I'm no longer a formal member. It helped me see the way food works, albeit in their simplified format of "Points," until I could actually see it for myself.

I've done this before; I'm not stupid. But somehow, in the activity of my daily life, the ability to really see what the food I'm eating for what it is just gets lost. And WW is an easy way to figure it out again.

Basically, I've changed a few things:

1. Portion sizes. When I cook supper for the four of us at home, I'm still cooking the same things for the most part, but when we sit down to eat, I take smaller portions. Rusty grilled steaks over the weekend and I had a true portion (3 oz., about the size of the palm of my hand). Before, I would have had half a steak or more. Most vegetables that I prepare are without extra calories anyway -- I don't add butter or oils to them -- and aren't starchy (potatoes, corn, carrots), so I can eat those in unlimited amounts for the most part. We had steamed broccoli on Sunday, and I prepare it without any sauces. So I had a good-sized portion of that.
2. Substitutions. If I'm serving something for supper that I shouldn't eat, I don't. I always offer a salad, so I have that as an extra, or I eat a double serving of the other vegetable. We had macaroni and cheese on Sunday -- the kids' favorite (they don't like mashed potatoes) -- and I didn't have any.
3. Slow eating. I do pretty much EVERYTHING in a rush. And in the past, I've eaten quickly. But that's not a good idea, really. It takes a while for your stomach to register that it's full. So if you eat slowly, that gives you a better idea of when you're full. 
4. Water, water, water. Did I say water? I have increased my water intake to about 90-100 ounces a day. It's not difficult to do, and it is so beneficial. My complexion is improved, I can run without any hydration problems, and it keeps me from eating something just because I think I'm hungry.
5. NO fast food. Seriously. I'm not talking restaurants, because I am able to eat in various establishments without problems, but I'm talking about McDonald's, Burger King, Taco Bell. They're just not healthy for you, period.

I don't use a lot of "typical" diet foods. I do use the Weight Watchers cream cheese -- it's very versatile; for lunch sometimes, I'll bake a small potato, add a tablespoon of WW cream cheese and a little cheese and salsa and have a very filling, nutritious lunch. I do have a supply of Lean Cuisines in the fridge for those nights when we're busy and what I'm cooking for the kids isn't the best thing for me, but I try not to rely on those so much. I want to learn how to eat REAL FOOD in a reasonable fashion.

I don't allow myself "cheats." One bite of ice cream or a piece of candy and it's all over for me. When I reach my goal, I will have to adapt to that, but hopefully the experience and knowledge I've gained will allow me do that intelligently.

The last time I lost a considerable amount of weight, I had an epiphany that this is something I will have to do for the rest of my life. I will never be able to just casually eat whatever. I have to plan and think about it and be reasonable every single day for the rest of my life. That didn't happen last time. I got really busy, stopped running and the rest is 20-30 pounds of history. I'm hoping that I've learned from that.

I am my own worst enemy. I need to stop that.

Last night, I posted on Facebook that the Under Armour running tights are the real deal, as far as battling the SE Texas cold. One of my friends posted something to the effect of "What are you running from?" He meant it as a joke (I accidentally deleted it through Facebook double-post weirdness, sorry 'bout that), but it made me think:

What am I running from?

(Sorry for the Carrie Bradshaw-esque questioning technique. Won't happen again...or often.)

Put simply, I am afraid of a lot of stuff.

I am afraid that I am not good enough. I know in my head that I'm doing a good job with my life. But I always think that I could do better. I want to be the BEST at EVERYTHING.

I am terrified that I am not parenting my children the right way. Yes, I love them with all of my heart and soul and tell them that, often. But is that enough? Does that make up for the times when I'm impatient and yell? Does that make up for the times that I am too tired to cook and I throw together sandwiches or something from the freezer? Does it make up for the fact that I am demanding and expect a lot out of them?

There are more things, but it's a very long, very boring list. Trust me. I'm happy and I enjoy my life, but I always have in the back of my head, in a whisper: "Did I do that right? Was that the best choice?"

Boiled down, in its purest form, I am running away from myself.

Running doesn't judge you.

It doesn't care if you're impatient, busy, tired. It doesn't care if you're sad, happy, whatever. It doesn't care if you completely forget to wash its band t-shirt so that it can wear it on Thursday with everybody else. It doesn't give you pouty puppy-dog eyes if you forget to put 60 cents in its dance bag so it can have a drink during its long afternoon/evening at dancing on Thursdays.

(Hmmm. Thursday seems to be pretty stressful at my house, huh?)

When I'm running, it's just me and the road. That's it. No expectations, just that I'm there.

Overkill.

It's cold here in SE Texas. "Cold," meaning it's 40 degrees or so.

I've been cold all day long -- in my office, in the restaurant where I went to lunch, in the band hall while I was waiting during Kyle's trombone lessons. The thought of actually RUNNING in this weather seemed to be more than I could bear.

But I needed this run today. Needed it. I have been in a crappy mood all day for no particular reason and I needed to run.

So after I fed the kids, I started layering. I had on my new Under Armour running tights (I am an affront to humanity in them, but they are comfy and warm), a long-sleeved shirt, a short-sleeved shirt, a Nike Dri-Fit hoodie and an A&M sweatshirt, then a hat and gloves.

About half of that was unnecessary. I dumped the hat after the first half-mile, and wanted to dump the sweatshirt. But with all the layers and my Ipod in the armband and all that, it was more trouble than it was worth.

I will remember this tomorrow night, dress in less layers and freeze my ass off.

'Cause that's how my life goes.

---

My running shoes are dead. As I was tying them this evening, I noticed a hole in the upper, probably where my big toe rubs against them.

They were just getting good and broken in, too.

Back a few years ago when I was running, I replaced my shoes every three months. I was tallying up a lot of mileage and that was the "rule."

In the interim, I read "Born to Run" by Christopher Macdougall. He discusses that all the padding and stuff in the modern running shoe actually does our feet more harm than good, and that at the point where we toss the running shoes is likely just when they're the best for our feet.

I had planned on keeping these shoes for as long as possible, and apparently six months is that.

Sigh.

The things I'll do to keep from eating...

I've mentioned before that one of my triggers for eating is stress. Stress will send me to the fridge or the cookie jar every single time. But another trigger is boredom.

Now, you'd think with two kids, a husband, an insane dog, a house, a full-time job and 10,000 other things, I wouldn't have time to be bored.

You'd be wrong. Not that there isn't always something I could be doing, but most often than not, what I could be doing is not what I want to do.

So yesterday, midday, after I had done some work stuff in the morning, and had done some home stuff, I was bored. I mean, the good college football games weren't even on yet. I planned on running, but it was still too hot at that point. And yes, I could have wrapped presents, cleaned out Katie's room, mopped the kitchen floor, but I didn't want to do those things.

So I cleaned out this random closet in our dining room. I'm not sure what the original owners of the house intended for this closet to be. It's too far from the kitchen to act as a pantry, and it's in the dining room. For the 11.5 years we've been here, it's housed our video tapes, our DVDs, games, Rusty's engineering textbooks, a space shuttle model as well as 65,000 tons of computer wires.

It took me two hours and I filled up *six* garbage bags, but I didn't eat anything! I also found some Christmas decorations I thought I had lost, and my framed bachelor's degree!

So, win-win.

---

My husband walked into the dining room yesterday morning and remarked that I take more pills than an old person.

He was exaggerating, but I do take a few supplements. I don't take any other daily medications and am overall fairly healthy (or, as I refer to it, too mean to get sick).

Every morning, I take a multi-vitamin for women and two calcium supplements (recommended for women my age). Yesterday, I added two glucosamine tablets.

My left hip has started bothering me on long runs. I'm doing some stretches before and after, but I thought I'd give the glucosamine a try, too. I'll report back in a week or so to let y'all know if it actually works!

There are seven pounds between me and success...but not really.

Today is my official weigh-in day. I usually jump on the scale (after I've peed, before I've eaten) in the morning a couple of times a week, so the 137 (!!!!) I saw this morning wasn't a huge surprise. But still -- knowing that it was 137 a few days ago and I managed to maintain that despite my daughter's sickness and some busy days at work makes me feel great!

My official goal is 130. As stated before, I will go no lower than that. I'm not sure how to maintain 130, so that will be another adventure y'all get to go on with me.

Despite the fact that I still have seven pounds to go, and the holidays are coming up, I still consider myself to be a success, to have done good.

I was a mess 24 pounds ago. A complete and utter mess. Overly cranky and grouchy. Nonchalant about my appearance. Introverted. And overweight.

Now, being those things aren't horrible, if that's how you want to be. But it has been my experience that most people don't want to be those things.

And at 137 pounds, I'm not magically this wonderful mother, wife, employee and citizen who is always happy, always perfectly dressed and always ready for a party. I don't expect I'll be 100-percent wonderful at 130, either.

I get cranky at the kids and my husband if I'm waiting on them to do something so I can run, and they're moving slowly. Most Fridays, I am wearing jeans to work and most likely no make-up, and on Saturdays and Sundays, running shorts or yoga pants, people. And I am looking forward to, after some things I have to do this morning, coming home, going for a run in the late afternoon/early evening, showering and just vegging at home.

What 137 (and later, 130) does for me is it takes away the anger at myself for my weight, my appearance. I no longer feel depressed because I can't find decent clothing in my size. It takes away one aspect of hyper-criticalness. (I, unfortunately, have PLENTY of other things to criticize myself about.) I have more energy. I'm more focused.

And that, in my book, is success.

Road rage (no, not THAT kind)

I sat, in my running clothes, and waited for my husband to get home for three hours yesterday. And when he did, I practically ran him over heading for the road.

I had a fairly stressful day yesterday, starting at 5:40 a.m., when I had to decide whether or not to send my sweet baby girl to school. She had some congestion and didn't feel great, but she didn't have a fever. So I sent her. That was my first mistake.

I left work around 10:30 a.m. to go to her review meeting for the speech therapy she receives at school. After the meeting, I drove right back to work, only to get a phone call from the nurse. Katie had a fever and needed to be picked up.

Then things got crazy: Ten-minute wait on the phone with the pediatrician's office which resulted in an appointment at 1:30 p.m. which meant I had an hour to drive to Kate's school, pick her up, throw some lunch in my face and get to the ped's office, about 20 minutes away.

Then there was more driving, to pick up prescriptions and more ibuprofen and nose spray and, and, and...

Stress used to lead to my eating. Eating whatever I could find -- it didn't even have to be something that I actually liked or enjoyed. I knew that with Katie sick and my failure at mothering and all the driving around I had to do that the time between when we got home and when my husband got home would be ripe for stress eating.

That's why I put on my running shorts, sports bra, shirt, socks and shoes and waited. He was a little late -- he called and everything was fine -- but as soon as he hit the door, pizza boxes in hand, I told him, "Love you. I need to run."

A quick one.

I haven't had the time to update in a while and I apologize for that. A longer post is coming, I promise.

I work all day and then when I get home, it's dealing with kid stuff, supper, more kid stuff and then I head out for a run ASAP! I feel like I need more music, but I can't figure out what.

Other than that, things are going well. I've lost 22 pounds, and three clothing sizes. I just have to keep it up, keep running, keep going...

Skinny isn't what it's about.

It's officially official: I have lost 20 pounds since Sept. 25. I'm going to shed 10 more and then I'm done.

All the weight charts say that the range for my height is 141-113. I'm going to consider myself "good" at 130, though.

A few years ago when I was running, running, running, the lowest weight I got down to was 124.

Yes. 124.

I felt good. I wore a size 4 in some things, a 2 in others. It was difficult to find appropriate clothing, because the world seems to think if you're a size 2, mini skirts are all you want to wear. (Not that I didn't have my fair share of mini skirts, but I do work in a professional setting...)

I had lots of energy. I had lots of everything, except for padding.

I look back at pictures from then, and I think about how I felt -- not mentally, but physically -- and I know that anything less than 130 isn't good for me. Not for my frame.

I'm a small person. Even when I'm overweight, my frame is small. It's not designed to carry around a lot of weight, but 124 was too little for it.

If I sat for a period of time, my rear end hurt. It didn't have to be hours and hours. Sitting at a movie was uncomfortable.

I prefer to sleep on my side. If I managed to stay in that position all night, I'd wake up with sore hips because there was nothing to cushion them. I eventually gravitated to sleeping on my stomach. I didn't have *any* boobs at all, so that didn't interfere with it.

I don't want anyone out there to confuse this with an eating disorder or mental issue. It's just what happens when a person runs a lot, and I was running a LOT. I averaged around 10 miles a day most days, what with running in the morning and then more running during my lunch at work. That's 280 miles a month.

Now you may be asking, does that extra six pounds -- from 124 to 130 -- *really* make a difference? It does for my body. Maybe it will be different this time -- I'm three years older.

And maybe because I'm three years older, the thrill of seeing 124 doesn't outweigh how it feels to be that thin.

I simply want to be *healthy* this time around.

Why running suits me.

I've never been a very athletic person. I would argue that I'm not very athletic now, even though I run every single day.

When I was in junior high, we had to run a mile in P.E. I couldn't do it. I failed the Presidential Physical Fitness test that year and the next, I'm sure.

So why, at the age of 34, did running suddenly become something I wanted (and more amazingly, COULD) do?

I can't really answer that. I am reading a book of essays about running right now, "What I Talk About When I Talk About Running" by Haruki Murakami. I'm not very far into it, but one thing he wrote about hit a chord with me.

He talks about what he thinks about when he runs. His answer? Nothing.

And that, my friends, has to be one of the reasons I like to run.

From the second I get up at 5:15 a.m. to the second I go to bed (and even afterward), I am constantly thinking about something. My kids. My husband. The house. Work. What I'm going to cook for supper tomorrow. What the kids are going to wear tomorrow. What I have to do first-thing when I get to my office. Grocery lists. Gift lists. Problems. Solutions. By the time I get to work in the mornings, I feel like I've worked an entire day sometimes.

Not when I'm running, though. Sometimes, I do think about things -- I come up with my best thoughts and ideas when I'm running. But I don't HAVE to think about things. All I have to do is run.

I've tried other exercises -- weight training, P90x, other cardiac/aerobic activities -- but they don't have the ability to clear my mind like running does. Even yoga -- which I love -- gives me too much time to mull over my life.

Murakami also talks about the solitary nature of running. I think that's another plus for me, too. All day long, I have people around me.

Don't get me wrong -- I love my family and I like my co-workers and those I meet during my day at work. But it's SO nice to be alone.

Just me and the road. Sometimes music, sometimes not. I try to time my runs when no one else is outside because I don't want to be bothered. I know that lots of runners enjoy groups, but not me. I just want to run. I don't want to worry about keeping pace with anyone, or talking to anyone or anything.

I just want to run.

Natural phenomenon.

Running early in the morning, or late at night, you notice weird things...things that other people don't notice.

When I used to run at 5 a.m., I'd see falling stars at least once a week. (And yes, I'd always wish on them.)

I also saw bats. A lady in a red bra in her front yard, waiting for her dog to poop. And we're not talking about a red sports bra; we're talking about an out-and-out RED bra.

Classy.

I've heard a neighbor playing jazz piano in his garage. I watched a woman, lap by lap, place someone's belongings on the front porch.

One weekend afternoon, I saw a neighbor kid toting a dead squirrel around in an ice chest.

And this evening, I FELT the cold front come through.

It's been hot and humid in my part of Texas, and along with that comes mosquitoes. In other words: MISERABLE. But we'd been promised a cold front today; when it would actually show up was a different story.

My son and I ran in the Turkey Trot this morning and it was so freaking HOT. It was so freaking HOT all day long.

When we got home this evening, I decided to run a few more miles in an attempt to counteract the chocolate goodie I had. The first lap, it was the usual: hot and humid with balmy winds. In my second lap, the wind turned ICY, take-my-breath-away ICY.

It was amazing.

Effort.

It seems like every time I tell someone that I run, or that I mention that I've got to get a run in today, or that I was running and that's why I didn't answer the phone, the person to whom I am speaking says, "Man, I can't do that."

Now, some of the times, they have a physical ailment that keeps them from running -- bad knees, ankles, etc. But the majority of the time, they mean that they don't have time.

To that, I say, "Bullshit."

I have two children who still need me to do things for them (not as much as I do for them, I'm sure, but still). I have a full-time job that often extends into the evening hours or weekends. I have a husband, whom I have known for 35 years and still love spending time with. I have hobbies, a house to tend to, laundry to do, a dog to deal with, etc., etc., etc., etc.

Back when I was obsessively running (I'm on the borderline now), I was also in grad school.

You make time for what you want to do. My house is not spotless. For years, I used the excuse of the kids -- "I clean, and then they just mess it up." But let's be honest here: The kids are 11 and almost 9. They're outside playing most of the time, and what messes they do make in common areas of the house are easily contained/picked up/dealt with.

I just don't like cleaning house. I don't want to clean house. I have 10,000 other things that are more exciting/stimulating/interesting that I'd rather be doing. Now, a clean house is something that is relatively necessary, so I do the minimum on most days and do crazy cleaning a few times a month, but it's just not my priority.

And that's OK.

When I became obsessed with running, I assessed my life. First, I made it as easy as possible for me to run -- I've detailed that in another post. Then, I took time away from something that I didn't care for as much as running. That was watching TV and sleeping.

My point is, if you want to do something -- if you REALLY want to do it, if you realize that you can't live without it -- YOU WILL FIND A WAY TO DO IT.

And that goes for everything, from exercising to cleaning your house to going back to school to get that degree that you didn't get when you were younger to learning a new talent or skill.

If you want to do it, you will. It's as simple as that.

An online friend of mine posted a cartoon to our message board the other day. It was a man at his doctor's appointment, and the doctor is telling him, "What fits your busy schedule better, exercising one hour a day or being dead 24 hours a day?"

A bit dramatic, but it's drama I can agree with.

---

My 11-year-old son and I are going to run the local running club's Turkey Trot tomorrow morning. I've run it before, but this is the first year that Kyle will be there with me. The weight loss is great (20 pounds and counting), but this is really what it is all about: Introducing my children to something that no one can ever take away from them.

Update, and a rant...

I had to go out of town for business again. It was another quick trip, driving to Austin on one day and driving back the next. I didn't exactly stay on plan, but I ran, so when I jumped on the scale this morning, it showed a pound lost. I've lost 19 pounds so far.

---

This brings me to a rant. I now weigh 142.6. My goal is 130, so I have 12 pounds to go. Before I started losing weight, I wore a size 12 to 14. I can wear a size 10 now, except for this one FREAKING PAIR OF JEANS FROM OLD NAVY. Why o why oh WHY? I can wear a size 10 at Banana Republic. I can wear a size 10 at J. Crew. I can wear a size 10 at The Gap.

But not at Old Navy. Thanks, Old Navy...FOR NOTHING.

What works for me...

I know when I first started running, the sheer amount of stuff you could buy for running stunned me. And it's grown exponentially over the years. I thought it might be useful for me to list what I personally use, and the reasons why, in the hopes that the puzzling trail of accessories could be demystified...

Disclaimer: This is what worked FOR ME. You may have other priorities, a different budget, a different way of doing things.

I'm going to start at the top and go to the bottom.

TOP: I have very short hair, so I do not typically wear a cap or visor or anything like that. I do have an Adidas stocking cap that I wear, along with a hoodie, when it is cold. I wish I could wear one of those ear/headwrap things, but the small is too small and the medium is too big. I have a weird-shaped head.

TORSO: There are two things that I would tell a beginning runner to invest in. The first would be a good sports bra (the second is socks, but I will get to that in a minute). Once I start running hard-core, I lose my boobs completely. Seriously. Of the 17 pounds I've lost so far, 15 of it have been boobs. I don't know if it's that way for all women runners, but it's almost like my body realizes that I don't *need* the excess up top for running, so it lets it go. So right now, I can get by with $16 C9 cami-style bras from Target.

But when I first started out, and was 230+, I invested in a serious sports bra from Title Nine, a company that specializes in women's athletic clothing. I bought one that hooked in the back like a regular bra; I didn't want to have to struggle out of one of the typical sports bras. If you're out of shape and overweight, the last things you want to worry about are your boobs flopping all over.

I have some "special" running shirts that are dry-tech or cool-dri or whatever, but honestly, I grab the first thing I can find. Regular t-shirts, tank tops in the summer, special running shirts, whatever. I have found some long-sleeved t-shirts from Target (C9 again) that I like. I don't think they're made out of special fabric, but they fit a little tighter than usual and they're great for layering under sweatshirts or jackets. I have three of them.

During the winter, I layer like crazy. I usually start off with long-sleeved T, short-sleeved T, and sweatshirt/hoodie. I strip down as I warm up. Since I'm just running in my neighborhood, it's easy enough for me to toss whatever I've just taken off onto my driveway as I pass.

BOTTOM: I like shorts that have the attached panty. I don't like things getting all bunched up or hiked up, and having the panty attached seems to alleviate that problem. I have a pair that have real pockets (not just some tiny zipper thing) and I like those. I also like running skirts and dresses -- no bunching up at all for those! I usually wear shorts and skirts during the winter, too. I'm not brave enough to wear running tights!

VERY BOTTOM: Socks. There are two brands that I really like: SmartWool and Thorlo. I've tried a gazillion others and they sag and bag and bother the hell out of me. My SmartWools and Thorlos never have. SmartWools I've only found at Sun & Ski Sports and Title Nine. Thorlos can be found at Academy. I like the really low running socks, too.

Shoes. I've had Nikes, Adidas, Asics, Saucony and Reeboks. My favorites were the Adidas and Reeboks. With both the Asics and the Sauconys, my feet would swell after five or so miles, and then my toenails would dig into each other. It was gross. Adidas and Reeboks have a larger toe box, so that doesn't happen. My current pair is Reebok Zigs and I like them a lot. They're very light.

I've never had my feet professionally measured and fit for shoes. I've never had any running injuries (cross my fingers, knock on wood). My feet are pretty normal. If I had trouble finding shoes that worked, I'd go to a specialty store to get measured. But I'm just normal.

OTHER STUFF: I have a sports watch, but it's nothing fancy. I just like knowing my running times. I don't have a Garmin, because I just run in my neighborhood. I know my mileage. If I were running different routes every day or something like that, I might find a Garmin to be useful. I use the over-the-ear-type of headphones with my iPod. The earbuds bother me. During the summer, mosquito spray is a MUST.

---

I ran three miles this evening. I have to go out of town again this week, so I'm hoping to be able to run some while I'm away. This trip will be more of a relaxing trip than the last one. I'm going to do more resting, less shopping. :-)

How I started running and regained my life.

I get asked quite often how I started running. I have never been an athlete, not as a child, not as a teen, not as a young adult. I mean, I got along OK, but I wasn't amazing and to be honest, I hated all physical activity.

In 2005, when I snapped to the fact that the 230+ pounds I was carrying around was damaging both my body and my psyche, I joined Weight Watchers Online. I started walking -- one time around my neighborhood is half a mile, so once the kids were in bed, I'd hit the road.

One night as I walked, I thought to myself, "What if I started running?"

I laughed at myself, because I wasn't a runner. Please. I was never even able to run a mile in school, when I was MUCH younger.

But the thought stuck in my mind and I decided to research it -- I love to do any kind of research. I read stuff online, I looked at books at Barnes & Noble, and I bought two books there.

I bought the cheapest pair of running shoes that I could find, a pair of $35 Nikes that didn't do anything special.

And on February 7, 2005, I ran. The book I had bought recommended that a beginning runner run for two minutes, then walk for two minutes and repeat the cycle five times.

I did that every other night for two weeks. I'll admit that it was difficult. Not the physical part, really. But the mental part. My butt jiggled. The sports bra felt really confining (which is the point, no?). Even though I was running at night, I still felt like people were watching me and laughing. I didn't know what to do with my hands.

But I stuck with it.

After two weeks, I switched to running three minutes, walking one, for five cycles. Then I progressed to running five minutes, walking one. I was in the middle of my two weeks of that when I impulsively decided to try to run the half-mile circuit around my neighborhood.

I did it!

That was pretty much it. I ran three miles three times a week at night, and then I started running every night, and then I started running every morning and at lunchtime, and walking at night. And then I got really obsessed and almost went insane (OK, not really).

---

As of today, I have lost 17 pounds in eight weeks. I feel incredible and people are starting to notice my weight loss.

Tomorrow: My recommendations for running gear: What works for me.

Running saves my soul, every day

I'm sorry I've been away. I went on a business trip and then there was daylight savings time and then some crises, both major and minor. So I haven't been writing.

But I have been running.

I am an emotional eater. If I'm happy, I eat. If I'm sad, I eat. If I'm stressed, I eat. If I happen to be any combination of the two (or three), I am out of control.

I'm not sure why I turn to food in times of extreme emotion. Food wasn't a panacea in my house growing up. We weren't rewarded for good behavior or good grades with food. We had food. We ate it. We had a lot of fresh vegetables; my dad had a garden for most of my growing-up years. It wasn't like we were eating Twinkies and Coke 24-7.

Despite the fact that I have had a busy, trying week, my eating has not gotten out of control. Instead of taking it to the kitchen, I've been taking it to the road.

This past Friday night, I was exhausted and hungry. I had been on the road most of the day, driving to Austin and then once I was there, taking advantage of the stores we don't have locally. One thing led to another and then it was 7:30 p.m., and I hadn't eaten since about 2.

Driving back to the hotel, I saw a Mexican restaurant. Mexican food is my weakness, but I was starving, so I turned into the parking lot.

And I was told they didn't serve parties of one on the weekends. I went to my car and I cried. Everything, all of the sudden, was just TOO MUCH.

I pulled myself together, drove a little ways farther and found a Mexican restaurant that was more than happy to serve me. I ate reasonably and drove back to the hotel.

I was still despondent. You don't go from a busy, loud house to complete silence without feeling ... lost.

I knew where I could find myself again. I put on my running clothes and went down to the fitness room. :-)

I am alive. I promise!

Blog, I have not forsaken you. I've just been very, very, very busy. And I have lots of things to say. LOTS. I hope to do a fairly large catch-up post tonight!

Rain, sunshine, cool weather.

I woke up this morning to rainstorms. When I emerged from my office a few hours later, it was sunny.

And when I finally got to head out to run this evening, it was COLD!

I took advantage of the cooler weather, and an early opportunity to run (I was able to head out at 7) and did four miles.

I am slow, much slower than I was in the past, but I will get back there. I will.

I signed up for the Turkey Trot 5K on Thanksgiving morning. They also do a 10K, but I'm not ready for that yet.

* * *

Five weeks ago, I weighed 161 pounds. I knew I had to do something. I could feel myself slipping back into depression. So I joined Weight Watchers. I'd done it before when I weighed 230+. I know it can work. Once I lost about 7 pounds, I felt so much better about myself, and I started running again.

I've lost 13 pounds so far. I've dropped two sizes. I feel SO MUCH BETTER.

In the shallow end of the pool...

I ran yesterday, despite the fact that I was dead tired and had just spent 2+ hours handing candy out to trick-or-treaters. I knew that if I didn't, I'd regret it. I'd regret it and then I'd beat myself up over it and then I'd decide that I didn't deserve to be healthy or thin and I'd eat 10 Oreos.

Or something like that.

So I ran two miles and I'm glad I did.

I ran two more miles this afternoon. My 11-year-old takes private trombone lessons at the high school near our house. I change into my running clothes before I take him, and I run around the track while he takes lessons.

A win-win.

* * *

So why am I doing this?

It's because I want to be healthy. I want to be a good example to my children. I want to live longer.

Well, that's a bunch of crap.

I want to look good. I want to go shopping and be able to buy cute clothes. I want people to be surprised when I tell them my age.

Even though I am happily married and have no thoughts or desires to stray, I want to be noticed.

Shallow, shallow, shallow.

I typically don't see myself as a shallow person. And really, I do like that running will keep me healthy. I hope that my children grow up to think that exercising is just something you do, like taking out the trash or walking the dog.

But how I feel about myself is really tied up quite a bit in the way I look. I hate it, but it's true.

And if that truth drives me to run a little harder or a little farther, who am I to question it?

Keep it simple; I'm stupid

Way back when, I realized that if I were going to have any success with this running thing, I needed to keep it as simple as possible.

If I had to stop and think about what I was doing -- what I really was doing -- then I'd realize how ludicrous it was -- what, me running? -- and go back to bed or back to sitting on my ass on the couch.

So I wore the same running clothes, all week long, and would wash them on Sunday afternoons. I kept them out where I could find them easily. Again, if I had to stop to look for something, I'd take that as a good excuse not to run.

I ran every single day, even though everything I read said I needed an "off day." No, I didn't need an "off day." If I didn't run one day, then the odds of my running the next day were nonexistent.

This time around, I'm following a similar formula, with some tweaks to accommodate my changing lifestyle.

I don't wear the same sweaty clothes every day, but that's only because my laundry load has increased immensely. My daughter was much younger when I did this the first time, and I guess she didn't change clothes as much or something. I wash a load of clothes every single night, so I just throw in my running clothes while I'm at it.

I don't run in the morning...yet. I used to get up at 5 a.m. and run. I could finish a run (I went from 3 miles to 5 daily) in 30-45 minutes, then I'd shower, eat breakfast and be ready to wake up the kids. Currently, I'm running at night. I don't know if it's because I'm that much older or what, but morning running just isn't my thing anymore. That may change, but right now, I'm sticking with the nighttime runs.

In my heyday, I ran during my lunch hour at work. I am working toward doing that again. I won't be able to do it as much as I did previously. I am now the boss at work, so I do have more responsibilities (meetings) and my day is much choppier than it was. I am going to plan to run twice a week at work. I can manage that. I'll do more when it's possible.

Music. Back then, I HAD to have it. If my iPod wasn't charged or something and I had to run without it, I was a mess. Now...I appreciate the quiet sometimes. I don't need something bombarding my brain constantly. Again, I think this is age-related. I'll be yelling about my kids' music being too loud soon, I'm sure.

Mostly, I just want to run. I want to run like I've never wanted to before. I'm in that "romantic" stage, where all I do is think about the next time I'll be able to run, and if I can fit in a quickie tonight before the Halloween festivities begin.

I think that's a good sign. I remember in my early days the last time around, where I'd literally pace from my cubicle to the window, worried that it was going to rain before I could get home and run.

The yearning is there, so this should be easy... HA.

The Beginning. Again.

Dear Running:

I am so sorry that I have neglected you. You were there for me when I needed you most -- when I was stressed or worried, when I was happy or sad, when I weighed 230+ pounds.

And I used you to lose 120 pounds, run a half-marathon and then I threw you away, like dirty dishwater.

I don't know why I did that. I guess it was more of a feeling that I had done that, so I was moving on to my next adventure. The thing is, my next adventure didn't keep me in shape. My next adventure didn't give those endorphins that I craved. My next adventure was just...meh.

I want you back, if you'll have me. I promise I won't turn my back on you again.

Love, Beth

* * *

Long story short: I weighed a bunch, I started running, then I weighed not-so-much, then I stopped running and I was on my way back to "a bunch." I put a stop to that really quickly.

I'm back to it, though. I plan to run a marathon -- I've signed up for a marathon in February, but I'm not sure if that's going to be a possibility, given my late start. But if not that one, then another one.

I have promised myself.

I'm going to write about running and about weight issues. I'm married and have two kids, so I'm sure there will be some wacky kid stuff working its way in from time to time.

This is a blog to help keep me honest, and you can come along for the ride...er, run... if you're willing.