Before 99% of you so kindly suggest I throw the scale away and use my clothing as a measuring stick, I should mention the fact that a pair of pants I have worn on a semi-regular basis not more than a month ago do not fit me. I was going to wear them to a cookout last night until I almost ripped the GD waistband off trying to pull them up over my ass. Yeah. All of the mother effin’ Crisco in the world wouldn’t be enough to fit me into those things right now.

Needless to say, it was an eye-opening experience.

I’ve always wondered how something like this could possibly happen to someone who has spent the last x-amount of time counting calories, busting ass at the gym and doing the ‘inside work’ required to lose weight consistently. I’ve always wondered how it seems so easy for some just to trade it all in for a free-pass and two-month sugar coma.

Then it happened to me.

Just goes to show that you can’t out-run, out-squat, and/or out-plyo shitty food choices. Even when you’re working out six days a week.

Making it real is the first step toward fixing it.

Post from: Body By Pizza

Riddle Me This

They’re kind of tight.

I’m not freaking out yet.

Okay, I’m freaking out in moderation (or slightly above).

But it’s all good.

I’m getting to the bottom of it. You know how it goes. Two pounds from goal = freak out, etc., etc. I’ve been losing weight steadily for almost two years. Doing so has sort of defined me (however sad that may seem). This ‘backlash’ all very new to me, but I suppose it’s all part of the ‘game’ (whatever that means).

On the upside, I’ve been sticking to my workout schedule despite how annoying it has been to wake up ass-early during my weeklong staycation just to ‘fit’ it in. Still, one hour of exercise cannot save me from twenty-three hours of shitty eating. It’s obvious that my body is aching for normalcy and consistency, but lack of structure is making it difficult to switch gears even though I’ve wanted to vom for a week straight.

I kind of miss my salads. And my grilled chicken. And my balsamic vinegar. And my egg whites with roast beef hash and Chipotle salsa. And the energy said foods provide.

S’mores just aren’t cutting it.

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Shuffling the Deck

In other news, The Girl secretly snagged this video of me and The Niece getting our Ab Ripper X on. Note its crippling effects just twenty seconds in. It was quite possibly the most hilarious thing I’ve seen in a while.

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A Few Things:

I drank a lot.

Like vegan Jell-o shots and other silliness.

And ate a lot.

Like chicken sausage at 2:30a while playing rummy with my darling friend Chris as we waited for the tow truck to rescue him from a flat tire. I lost. Terribly.

I never lose.

P.S. – I have to run 5.5 miles tomorrow.

And it’s 3a.

And I’m blogging from my pillow.

Normal can blow me.

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Keeping It Classy

For one week, I ate what everyone else ate. I drank what everyone else drank. I thought, ‘I am doing normal things like eating without scrutinizing every fucking calorie that enters my mouth. I can get used to this!’ For the first time in a long time, I felt kind of normal.

Until I climbed on that scale.

Normal people don’t gain 5-6lbs in a week.

In fact, normal people don’t make a bee line to their computer to log what they have just eaten. Normal people don’t eat ‘according to schedule’. Normal people don’t scour over menus for an hour before heading to a restaurant. Normal people don’t spend forty-five minutes in the bread aisle pouring over every single package of hamburger rolls looking for one that doesn’t contain high fructose corn syrup. Normal people don’t stop eating their mother’s meatloaf because she doesn’t use organic hamburger. Normal people don’t medicate themselves with food after a stressful day. Or a headache. Or a car payment. Or to avoid work. Or to procrastinate while blogging. Or because they have nothing better to do. Normal people can sit still for more than five minutes without thinking it’s the end of the world. Normal people don’t look at the clock every five minutes wondering when they can eat again just to ‘pass the time’.

Normal people don’t punish themselves with food for feeling abnormal.

In the end, it’s not really about the scale or the weight, but rather the destructive and abusive behaviors that I have been experiencing ever since my failed attempt to ‘ease back into normalcy’.

It’s a lot to process. A lot.

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Not Normal

Why won’t you stop eating? You’re starting to freak me out.

Big time.

Kind regards,
A Concerned Citizen

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Mother &@$%!!

Good thing it only took me three days of sitting on my ass and a total food-for-all to get to the bottom of It. I’m still feeling experiencing periods of absolute shittiness (I literally thought I was going to die yesterday), but I feel better knowing why giving It a name. My coffee/caffeine habits are way too sporadic for up-keep and I would be a total moron to continue ingesting random (but very concentrated) bouts of caffeine with zero intention of doing so on a constant basis.

DO NOT WANT.

In other news…

I’m repeating Week 5 of P90X after taking two (unplanned) days (full of sadness) off.

I’m eating more carbs because I like them.

And I have hockey tonight.

I will score goals.

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And the Winner Is…

I’ve felt this way off and on for the past few week, but I can’t really put my finger on why. All I know is that I don’t feel like my spritely self and it’s a very alien and uncomfortable feeling. Let’s consider the ‘usual’ suspects, shall we?

Am I getting sick?
I developed a cold last week, but it has since dissipated. I think.

Am I over-training and/or spreading myself too thin?
I’m always doing something. Last week was full post-work activities and a double workout in the shape of a five-mile run and an eleven-mile bike ride on Sunday (although the bike ride was pure leisure). I also worked out every single day last week and doubled up on a workout or two a few weeks ago. I never lost the bounce in my step during three months of half training so what the dilly, yo?

Am I not eating enough?
Pretty sure I just heard the scale burst into a fit of laughter. Please see below.

Am I eating too much crapola?
Sometimes I feel lethargic after eating 1/2 of a cheese pizza, but it’s been a while since I’ve done such a ridiculous thing (a month, perhaps?). I did, however, consume a ton of crap during the month of July that I otherwise wouldn’t normally consume. Items include but are not limited to: 1/2 slice of chocolate cheesecake, a juicy hamburger on a toasted Brioche roll, a handful of Heath Klondike bars, a half slice of Carvel cake, 3/4 slice of chocolate cake, a few bites of Butterscotch Bread Pudding, seven gallons of alcohol, three hamburgers during a single cookout, a pound of potato salad (OK, not a pound, but you get the idea…). Not great, but I’ve done worse in a week.

Am I eating too much protein?
I’ve been eating almost twice the amount of protein I’m used to and almost half the carbs despite some of my off-the-beaten path food choices. Historically speaking, I’ve never had much luck going ‘low carb’, and although doing so has not been my intent, I’m definitely consuming way fewer grams than I normally would (and I’ve got the post-workout-ammonia-stench to prove it). The worst part? I’m practically forcing myself to OD on the protein. Gross.

Am I showing signs of caffeine withdrawal?
I’ve been hitting the sauce pretty hard lately partly due to last weekend’s run in with Red Bull and my need to tap into external energy resources just to keep my eyes open. Otherwise, I tend to stay away from the Caffeine (truth be told: it screws with my poop shoot).

Am I not getting enough sleep?
I slept for nine glorious hours last night and try to get at least seven each night, but I’ve been cutting into my precious Sleepy Time with two-hour drives to/from The-Middle-of-Nowhere-New-Hampshire for concerts that don’t end until 11pm and a plethora of morning workouts due to post-work activities.

Do multi-vitamins really make a difference?
Something tells me I might need to take more than two vitamins a month to reap the benefits.

The problem with being incredibly out-of-touch with your body is that it’s hard to determine what your body is trying to tell you. Sure, I’ve lost a shit load of weight. I’ve jogged a half marathon, began playing ice hockey again, and am currently five weeks into the P90X Classic program, but I’m still learning how to listen to my body.

In fact, I’ve just begun.

I have a lot to say on this subject, buuuut I just got home from hockey and I smell like a wet sock.

Sexy.

Post from: Body By Pizza

Just the Beginning

‘Ah, well. I guess it just wasn’t meant to be.’

I figured my bunk DVD was the Universe’s way of throwing me a bone. Instead of working out, I fixed myself a good ‘ole cup of Joe, plucked two spongy powered donuts from the assortment I picked up from the grocery store last night after convincing myself that I have finally entered the ‘beginning of the end’ phase of my weight-loss journey, and settled on a classic episode of Spongebob to help pass the time. When I was done with my two donuts, I went back for two more.

And then two more.

Before I knew it, the box was empty.

If this is reading like something straight out of a horror movie, you’re right.

What actually happened was a lot less dramatic.

I did ‘Chest & Back’ instead.

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In the Driver’s Seat

Do you know how many calories I would have actually needed to consume to gain 6 lbs of Fatty Fat McFatterson? A lot. Sure, there have been umpteen birthday celebrations. A mini slice of Carvel cake, a Klondike bar or twenty, 1/2 slice of cheesecake with a two-inch fudge crust, a damn good hamburger, a few bites of the most wonderful dessert I have ever tasted, some tasteless Mexicrap, 3/4 of a slice of chocolate cake and a few glasses of sangria, etc., but definitely not 11,500 calories per day’s worth. That’s just obscene.

I may have finally given into the Red Bull Vodka Gods this evening and I may be writing this totally sloshed, but I am present enough to know that I need to stop tweaking out just because I’ve stepped out of my comfort zone for a brief moment in time. This week has been an exception to the rule, not the culmination of my efforts. It does not and will not define me, but I can certainly see how such a jump can send anyone straight WTFsville (especially if you’re looking for some kind of validation).

Even though I ended up being covered in honey mustard by the end of tonight, at least I had the decency to order grilled chicken instead of crispy chicken. Right?

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All Hail New Habits

Eh, who am I kidding? Hopefully I’ll find the time to stuff my face with an utterly delicious and calorie/sodium-friendly tuna crepe before heading over to the Factory where I am sure the the food will be flowing freely at the expense of the Birthday Girl’s boss (after all, it is National Cheesecake day!). As much as I love the occasional treat, these back-to-back-to-back birthday celebrations and lunch/dinner dates are really starting to wear on me. To put it simply: I’m pretty sure I’ve consumed enough sodium in the last few days to send a baby elephant into cardiac arrest and me no likey.

My plan was to eat a ‘lil something-something before heading out for Janice’s birthday on Wednesday, but I just couldn’t find the time between my lunch break run and my endless workload. I ended up ordering a plain hamburger with salad instead of fries, snacked on a handful of calamari, tried my first raw oyster (weirdness in a half shell), and my alcohol consumption was maxed at two due to self-imposed budget constraints (woo, car loan!). I also enjoyed a three bites of the most delicious dessert that I have ever encountered in my twenty-six year on this earth — butterscotch bread pudding with praline ice cream and salted caramel. It was quite amazing.

Last night’s Mexican-infused birthday excursion was a little different. I offered to be the designated driver for two reasons: 1. so The Girl could enjoy a Margarita for once instead of escorting me to the car in a wheelchair and 2. to save myself from ingesting a bunch of calories through a plastic tube and instead, put those calories toward a meal that would otherwise be a little uncharacteristic of me to order.

That was my game plan until I took a look at the nutritional information:

• 5,180 mg of sodium for one serving of nachos
• 2,290 mg of sodium for a chicken burrito without sauce, rice, or beans
• 2,740 mg of sodium for a chicken quesadilla

Get the fuck out of here! It literally took me twenty minutes to ‘build’ a meal that 1. didn’t contain an obscene amount of sodium, and 2. wasn’t predominantly salad. I ended up ordering a chicken enchilada (490 mg sodium) with grilled veggies (20 mg sodium) instead of rice and beans (1350 mg sodium) and a side salad without dressing (260 sodium). The salad seemed a little high for a bowl of lettuce with a few tomatoes and .2 feta crumbles, but it was a no-brainer. Still, the whole meal came to about 500 calories and 770 mg of sodium (which, by the way, is only 10 mg more than a side of Smoked Jalapeno Vinaigrette dressing). I also had a few tortilla chips (an entire basket = 440 mg).

In the beginning, I was all about trying to get the ‘most bang for my calorie buck’ when it came to food choices. Nowadays, I am much more concerned with quality over quantity. I don’t have a problem consuming what some people deem ‘poor calorie value foods’ so long as they are made with real ingredients (eg. fresh and/or authentic foods including but not limited to my most favorite ‘mom & pop’ pizza). I tend to stay away from foods that contain bleached and/or enriched flour, HFCS, hydrogenated oils, artificial sweeteners, and high sodium content, but I also don’t consider any foods truly ‘off limits’ (it’s a mental thing).

I know too much and have worked too hard to piss it all away at the mercy of some corporation’s bottom line. Besides, I’ve put my body through some pretty rough stuff over the course of the last two years. The least I can do is respect it by providing it with good, whole nutrients most of the time. There is a big difference between ingesting a 300 mg sodium bomb in the shape of cottage cheese or some organic beef jerky compared to a chicken soft taco containing 830 mg of BS that has been trucked across the great plains of this nation before succumbing to its fate on my dinner plate. That’s not to say that I do not partake in processed food items from time to time (Heath Klondike bar, anyone?) but I cannot and will not consume a day’s worth of sodium in one freaking meal. I just can’t.

Hence pre-gaming before tonight’s Cheesecake Factory romp.

Lucky for me, cheesecake contains very little sodium.

As for vodka? It contains none!

How do you feel about sodium?

Post from: Body By Pizza

Bombs Away!

- 1 Banana Almond Flax protein muffin
- 2 97% fat free National Hebrew hot dogs
- 1 Arnold’s Fill’ Ems
- 2 tbsp organic ketchup
- 2 Trader Joe’s Chicken Tenderloins
- 1 oz unsalted organic tortilla chips
- 4 oz Trader Joe’s sparkling lemonade
- 3 cups organic marshmallow oaties
- 2 cups unsweetened almond milk

You’d think I’d be sick to my stomach after eating three breakfasts, a lunch, a dinner, and a snack within an hour’s time, but I wasn’t. I was full, but I wasn’t pleading for mercy in the fetal position and/or burping up chunks as per usual. I quietly settled into the couch, flipped on ‘Julie & Julia’ (?!) and fell asleep for an hour. When I woke up, I stayed horizontal for another thirty minutes before dragging myself off the couch and into my workout ensemble for some quality Tony Time. I knew there was a small chance I’d blow chunks during my hour-long Legs & Back workout, but I made my bed and I was going to lie in it — projectile vomit and all. Yep. I’m a big girl, now.

I completed my workout vurp-free and eventually added two more Trader Joe’s chicken tenderloins, two ounces of organic low-fat mozzarella cheese, and two tablespoons of no-salt added marinara sauce to my laundry-list of food stuffs and thought about what had transpired earlier. Why did I binge? Was it stress? Was it self-sabotage? Was I just super-fucking-hungry from doubling up on workouts the day before (p.s., I scored two goals that night)? Or was it because I had wanted those damn Marshmallow Oaties for days but resisted? Did I eat all of that other shit in some lame attempt to dampen my Oatie lust only to eventually give in super hardcore-ninja style by eating three bowls of it?

I really think so.

Whether Oatie Denial is the true reason behind my binge or not, one thing’s for sure: what is done is done. I did not and do not feel guilt, remorse, shame, or any other mind-numbing and/or self-deprecating emotions over consuming a shitload of food in a short period of time. Self-loathing is what lead me to and ultimately kept me at 271 lbs in the first place — it’s sure as hell not going to save me from going back there. Plus, I know way too much now. I know that one calorie-heavy day and/or binge is virtually meaningless in a sea of moderation so long as I make the effort to acknowledge the possible reason(s) behind said excess. Maybe next time I’ll just have a bowl (or two or three) of those Marshmallow Oaties instead of trying to downplay and/or ignore my cravings in the first place.

Lesson learned.

In other news, I’m about to embark on a crazy week littered with food-related activities including dinner with a co-worker from a past last life tonight, Janice’s birthday shin-dig Wednesday night, and yet another birthday dinner Thursday night (which totally trumps my workplace Summer Party held the same evening). If that isn’t enough, I have been invited to a ‘Summer Casual Drinking Festival’ on Friday, but I’ll probably pass due to said pending cold and fear that I may end up dead in a ditch if I don’t make it home at least one night after work this week. I also have a Carvel cake to contend with on Wednesday and a lunch date at an Indian buffet with some girls from work on Thursday. Aaaand it’s ‘recovery week’ in P90Xville which means no strength training and lots of cardio in the form of jogging instead of Kenpo X and Yoga X.

More on that later.

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Lesson #27475906

And I’m kind of loving it.

What I’m not-so-much loving is a certain split second decision I made this afternoon: I’m filling in for the unfortunate soul who cannot make tomorrow night’s hockey game. Attempting to skate the day after a plyometric workout = lots of flailing around the ice atop two cylinders of Jell-o for approximately one hour.

If that’s not enough, I will also be completing my scheduled Arms/Shoulders/Ab workout at some point tomorrow as well. Why? Because volunteering to skate in someone’s place does not give me a free pass to miss a scheduled workout — especially a workout that is part of a program I am fully committed to effectuating from start to finish. If anything, maybe doing such a thing will teach me not to over-extend myself.

Eh, I won’t hold my breath.

Have you ever fallen victim to self-imposed over-extension?

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No Free Passes Here

Nutritional info is somewhat brand specific, but feel free to switch things up and recalculate as desired. I’m going to include the 0% Greek yogurt rather than 2% because that’s what I will normally use.

Ingredients

• 1/2 cup whole wheat pastry flour (365 Organic)
• 2/3 cups rolled oats (Bob’s Organic)
• 1/4 cup protein powder (Naturade Organic Soy-free Veg Protein Powder)
• 2 tsp baking powder
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 2 tbsp brown flax seed (365 Organic)
• 1/8 cup chopped + 12 whole almonds (Trader Joe’s Organic Unsalted)
• 1 cup 0% Greek yogurt (Fage)
• 3 egg whites (Crystal Farm’s)
• 1 egg (Pete & Gerry’s Organic Cage-Free)
• 1 medium banana
• 1-2 tsp almond extract

Directions

• Showing some love!

Nutritional Info

• Cals: 92
• Fat: 2.17 g
• Carbs: 11.6 g
• Protein: 6.5 g
• Fiber: 1.77 g
• Sodium: 59 mg

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Muffins Revisited!

» Spending my entire Saturday driving between car dealerships before falling head over heels for and later welcoming Scarlet into the family (…partially planned, partially random, entirely draining). We just love her!

» Eventually making it over to my darling friend Lindsay’s place much later than expected but just in time to enjoy the most amazing yellow tomato, mozzarella, spinach, and scallop salad of my life at some random bar just because they had patio seating (…raging hunger > photo shoot).

» Hashing out future business ideas/plans with Lindsay and my new buddy Dave until 1a while the two of them mowed on Grade D crab Rangoon, chicken fingers, and fried rice from the only Chinese food restaurant open within walking distance (…I might have joined in if the place didn’t have a 2-star rating on Yelp).

» Netting a full eight hours of sleep on Sunday (…excluding the thirty minutes I spent staring at the ceiling having an absolute panic attack over the acquisition of Scarlet).

» Wrapping up the painting project I started eons ago at my parents’ house (…the more I paint, the more I loathe it) and rushing home from said project to squeeze in a five-mile run before the gym closed (…excuses are lame!).

» Food shopping at Trader Joe’s covered in sweat and gross from said five-mile run (…keepin’ it classy).

» Taking a stab at Janetha’s Almond Chiaseed Protein Muffins and failing horribly at my first attempt due to adding waaaay too much protein powder, but somewhat succeeding at my second attempt (…thank God because baking past 11:30p on a Sunday for little to no reason is borderline insane).

I used 1/4 cup of Soy-free Veg Protein (down from 2/3 cups during my first attempt) in place of the EAS whey protein and substituted cinnamon for chia seeds. I’ll be experimenting with some banana and flax seed for a flavorful fiber bump when I reattempt these puppies this weekend. Bananas make everything better! As is — cals: 92, fat: 3.1 g, carbs: 9.1 g, fiber: .77 g, protein: 6.8 g, sodium: 39.7 mg (per muffin, makes twelve)

Note: the only other time I have ever really ‘baked’ (in my entire life) was two years ago when Lindsay and I had a ‘cookie bake-off’ contest (…she made no-bake cookies). I hope to continue this baking/cooking trend by trying out one new recipe each week.

For longer than a week.

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Baker’s Dozen

I may have done so knowing full well that I will not be switching gears from my P90X program to train for said half marathon. Instead, I will stick to my current schedule (which happens to include a single long run each week) rather than making the switch to a combo training plan such as this. My goal from the beginning has been to eventually add at least one shorter run that can be completed during my lunch hour. It might be time to make that goal a reality.

Race: Boston Athletic Association Half Marathon
Date: October 10, 2010

This is going to be nuts.

Hilariously, insanely, death-defyingly nuts.

And to think, I started this journey by exercising five minutes per day on an elliptical machine that sat collecting dust in my spare room for God knows how long before I decided it was time to make piece of equipment my Bitch. When I told a friend of my new exercise regimen, she seemed kind of appalled.

‘Five minutes? Um, that’s not going to do anything…’

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Yes, I’m Trying to Kill Myself

What made this week different from the last 10+ weeks?

I can’t help but wonder if it has something to do with the X Factor. Don’t get me wrong. I know this program isn’t the Eighth Wonder of the World. I know not expect drastic improvements to my fitness levels so soon. However, there has been a noticeable shift within and I’d be a damn fool to deny it (placebo effect included). I have pushed myself in ways last week that I have not pushed myself over the course of my weight-loss journey thus far. In fact, I have pushed myself in ways last week that I have not pushed myself over the course of my entire life.

When most people were quietly stuffing their face with Independence Day leftovers, I was completing set after set of half push-ups, faux pull-ups, and ab exercises on Monday. When my hockey game rolled around on Tuesday, I laced up my skates even though I could barely tie them after exhausting every possible muscle in my chest and back the night before. When I promised my friend I’d attend her friend’s CD release show after work on Thursday, I got up early to complete my workout. Despite not being able to walk, twist, lift, or bend, I completed Friday’s workout between running errands in preparation for Saturday’s cookout (which included a second trip to the grocery store at 10:45pm). I got up early on Saturday to finish prepping and to give myself enough time to fit in Plyometrics before guests started to arrive (um, I was still getting ready when the doorbell rang…) And when my ‘rest day’ finally rolled around on Sunday, I took my hungover ass to the gym and busted out a glorious 5-mile run.

I realized this week that making it through these workouts isn’t the problem. The biggest challenge is not letting ‘life’ get in the way of completing said workouts. Better yet, the Grand Daddy Challenge of Them All is having the strength, courage, and drive to hit that play button even though your entire body is begging (screaming, pleading, bribing, etc., etc.) you not to.

I brought it last week and I can’t help but feel absolutely incredible — improved fitness levels or not. Granted, I’m also beyond fucking exhausted, but I feel incredible nonetheless!

Sometimes feeling great doesn’t originate from the number of reps you can do or the number of miles you can run. Sometimes feeling great originates from the simple act of committing to something — anything — and doing your best to get it done. It’s less about what you’re doing and more about uncovering your hidden potential by pressing that play button no matter what.

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The Placebo Effect

Stop getting in the way of blogging! Okay, don’t stop, but seriously. Can’t you just slow down for a hot minute? I have so much to say about my first week of Project Push-up.

Eh, at least I can walk again.

For the most part.

(I was getting concerned…)

Love,
Me

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Note

Seriously. The sheer thought of having to lower and/or hover myself over that Portal of Death is giving me heart palpitations. In fact, the thought of taking part in any action outside the realm of ‘sitting’ is absolutely terrifying. Think I’m over-exaggerating? I can’t even tell you how many times I woke up in the middle of night trying to roll over. Exaggeration? I think not.

With that said, I have no idea how I’m going to get through Kenpo tonight. And then go food shopping immediately after. And then do Plyometrics bright and early tomorrow (…I screwed up the schedule this week) before prepping for our cookout and later spending the day in the company of some great people. As it stands, I’m already shuffling around the office like I’ve got a load in my pants.

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Dead Legs

“Are you okay?”

“My chest hurts!”

“Do you have heart burn?”

“Um, more like muscle burn…”

That pretty much sums up how I feel approximately twenty-four hours after completing my first P90X chest/back/ab workout. I’ll write more when I can safely raise my arms and/or twist my body without wincing.

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Let the Games Begin