You Were Right

I had no desire to go running, but Vicki said I would be psyched afterwards. You were right, Vic. It was a beautiful day. Upped my ratio to 5&1 and did my 3.0-mile route. Turns out that I achieved my fastest pace yet -- 12:07 minutes per mile. Hooray!

My First 100 Miles

On April 14th I crossed over into my 100th mile since I began running again. This is a rather large victory for me. A small victory is that I had to tighten my running watch. It's now on the 6th hole from the end, whereas it always was on the 5th hole before. My wrist must be getting smaller. Another small victory: 3 unsolicited compliments regarding my changing physique. Halleluja that my hard work is beginning to be visible to the naked eye.


Today was my last run with a 4&1 ratio. On Saturday, I'll have to up it to 5&1. It'll also be a 3-miler. Hoping not to have the dogs or kid in tow for that double whammy!



On an unrelated note, here I am with the Poop Queen on Easter morning:

My First Ten Pounds

Well, this morning was my weigh-in as usual, and I am pleased to report I am down a full ten pounds, from 173 to 163. Now I have fewer than ten pounds to lose to get to my first goal (155.7).

Another milestone achieved today: my 25th Firm workout. I am addicted to collecting certain workout videos. I had my yoga video phase, my t-tapp video phase, and then came the Firm. I bought the Transfirmer Series from collagevideo and then started collecting all the other DVDs from Ebay. When I got back into exercising in January I decided that I would make myself do every Firm video in my arsenal once before I was allowed to repeat. Well, it took me over three months, but I did it. So now I get to start the rotation all over again! I will have to up my weights, though. With this first 25-video rotation I used 2, 3, and 5 lb weights. Now I need to ditch the twos and use 3, 5, and 8 lb-ers as my light, medium, and heavy weights.

On a completely unrelated note, I was excited this morning to hear the hausmeister outside mowing. Knowing he wouldn't mow our backyard if there was dog poopy there, I ran downstairs, nestled Jillson amongst her toys, and flew out the backdoor in my pjs to de-poop. Thirty minutes later, as I fed Jills her breakfast, we listened to the dulcet tones of the hausmeister mowing our yard for us. My husband is going to be excited about that when he gets back.

I discovered today that if I help Jillson stand up, and prop her arms on top of something (the piano bench, the sofa) she can stand there for quite some time holding herself up. She wiggles and bounces and slaps her hands and eventually falls backwards onto her cute little tushy. She cannot pull up on her own, nor does she crawl or walk, but it is nice to know she is becoming more stable on her feet.

Those are all the good things. I should stop there. I am so mad about the bad news that came out from my husband's uber-boss yesterday that I can't even write about it. Suffice to say that if and when my hubby goes on another business trip, it will be for an even longer time. I want to scream every swear word known to mankind. So much for the family values my husband's corporation pretends to support.

The Gutsy Dog

Meet Zephyr. I love her, probably more than a person ought to love a dog, because she is our first "child." I am angry with her because, for the last hour and half, she has run me through the ringer.


I am a woman of routines. If I find a schedule that works and makes my household happy, I stick to it. Thus, in the mornings, I tend to run on autopilot. Before I get Jillsie from her crib, I go downstairs with the dogs (Zephyr and her sidekick Tiller), put them outside on their lines, and flick on my espresso maker.


After sharing some time with Jillsie, nursing and snuggling, it is time for the high chair and Jillsie's breakfast. Afterwards, the doggies are usually asking to come in for their breakfast, Jillson starts playing with her toys, and I make my own breakfast. This morning I was feeling like a horrible dog mom since we were so low on food I had to augment the dogs' breakfasts with broken up dog bones. When I went to the back to let the dogs in, there was Tilly waiting to come in, but no sign of Zephyr. Her line was there, trailing off into the yard, with no dog on the end. It wasn't busted or cut or ripped out or anything. Simply missing a dog.


What's a woman in her pajamas to do? After a brief panic, I got dressed (sans bra since times a wastin'), stuffed Jillsie into a snow suit (frost on the grass=cold), tossed her into the backpack, hooked Tilly up to her leash, and traipsed out into the fields.


Have I mentioned how stinky the fields are right now? The Eau de Manure was so strong that it cut our family walk short last evening. Now I was in it up to my ankles. Tiller was delighted.

I thought Tilly might lead us to Zephie. After hobbling through the fields for nearly an hour, calling for Zephyr, cursing myself for not putting on a bra, and trying not to cry or envision Zephie on the side of the road, I gave up. I had to go home. Jillsie was getting restless in the backpack (it was also naptime, of course), my back was hurting (did I mention yesterday's rather zealous weight-lifting workout?), and I had to come up with a new plan of attack for finding my wayward dog.


I called my husband; no answer. I texted him; no answer. I decided to leave Tilly at home, and Jillsie and I headed out the front door to look for Zephie in the streets. Jillson was so tired that she kept leaning her head into my neck to gum my hair, blow raspberries, or say "eye-ya-ya-ya," which means "Mommy, can't you tell that I am sleepy, so why are we headed away from the house?" Luckily, when we got to the end of the front drive, around the corner came Zephie, doot-d'-doo, just walking along with a big old grin on her face.


I love her so much for coming home and putting me out of my misery. However.


I have since removed not one, not two, but ELEVEN ticks from her hide, and I am sure there are more to come.


I am going to have to bathe her once again, since she reeks of manure. You can practically see the odor wafting off of her. And I am not going to be able to do this until this evening, as I have to leave to go to a meeting in about a half an hour. This means whatever ticks are left on her, along with the incredible stink, will be awaiting my return, on or off Zephyr.


Here's to nightly familial tick-checks for the rest of the week.


And here's to a dog who is smart enough to come home before the Gutsy Mom reached total meltdown.

New Running Rules

I realized on my run today that I am not at all following any sort of plan, let alone Hal Higdon's. I seem to just be following my own internal sense of what to do next. This is not always a great idea. So here are the guidelines I am laying down to help me stay focused on days when I just don't feel like hitting the road.

1. Exercise occurs six days a week. Three days of running, three days of something else, one day of nothing.
2. I run on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays.
3. I do something else on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.
4. I do nothing on Sundays.
5. Each run/walk ratio will be done on at least three runs and on no more than six runs before I must increase the run/walk ration.
6. From here on out, increases occur by the full minute, until I reach 8&1.
7. Every run shall last at least 30 minutes.
8. For now, that means that each run is at least 2.4 miles in length.
9. I cannot run the same route twice in a week.
10. All prior rules remain in effect! (See original postings.)

There. Now let me just share some happies about today's run. I upped my ratio to 4&1. This was particularly exciting for me because I realized afterwards that I ran for a total of 17+ minutes and only walked for a total of 14 minutes. The running now lasts longer (total) than the walking. Yippee! That aside, the run kinda kicked my butt. The odor of fresh manure was quite overwhelming, and I had asthma almost the whole way. Na ja. These things happen. It was still a good run with my full entourage. And as I used to say quite often:

Run hard, live easy.

Bathing Beauties!

What's the only thing cuter than my daughter in the bathtub? My daughter in the bathtub with her best friend! My computer is being ridiculously slow and untrustworthy, so I cannot manage to get these pics in the proper order, but here they are nonetheless. Some day, Jillson is going to be awfully embarrassed, I'm afraid, by my obsession with her cute, naked self! I used to get so upset when my mother would pat me on the bottom, but now I completely understand the irresistable urge every mother has to pat her little girl on the bum... I digress. Back to bathtime!

Numbers

I said I would, so now I have to. A gutsy mom does not go back on her word. Not to get too Bridget-Jonesy, but here are my numbers. Skip over this post if numbers embarrass you.

140's: My weight throughout high school, college, grad school, and when I met my husband.

148: The weight I was when I decided to diet down for our wedding.

125: My wedding weight. Beautiful, but hard to maintain.

130: My marathon weight. A weight that looks good on me and is easier to maintain.

150: My pre-pregnancy weight. How did I get there? Sometime I'll write about the job I had during the three years it took me to put on 20 pounds.

188: My highest pregnancy weight.

168: My post-partum weight.

173: What I weighed when I started this blog. You know how all the books say the fat just melts off of nursing mothers? NOT SO MUCH FOR ME!!! I was delighted that while my daughter's birthweight was 8.5 lbs, the fluid and everything else added up to a post-partum weight-loss of twenty pounds. Super! I only had to lose 18 pounds by myself to get back to my pre-pregnancy weight. Since I was breastfeeding like a maniac, I figured the weight would just fall off, right? Wrong. Lemme tell ya: the lowest I got was 167. ONE POUND. This was so discouraging that I began to gain weight. I got up to 173, had an emotional meltdown, and then began to get serious.

So, I weighed in on Friday to discover I am down to 167 again, which means 6 pounds lost since I started to apply myself, and back below my post-partum weight. Yeehaw.

My first goal is to get to 155.7 pounds or less, which would mean a loss of 10% of me.

My second goal will be to get to 150, my pre-pregnancy weight. I'd like to get there by July 15th, so that, as I always say, the baby fat is gone before I lose the right to call it that. This means losing 17 pounds in 3 and a half months. Should be doable if I stay focussed.

My third and final goal will be to reach 135 pounds, which would put me at the top of the "healthy weight range" for a person my height and age. (The range is 113-135, according to both my doctor and Weight Watchers. They must use the same chart.)

Anything below that is gravy.

So there it is. Here's the summary:

Start weight: 173
Current weight: 167
First goal: 155.7