So, I'm finally home. Oh my hell. I've never experienced such pure orgasmic bliss as when I first stepped into the co-op roughly 20 minutes after my flight landed.
Screw going to get gas or seeing my family, I needed some cherries dammit!
So I've been eating SO much better, in turn I feel so much better.
Remind me to tell you later about how I measured out and purchased all sorts of non-refridgerated items before my time away and then remind me to tell you what happened to those four bananas.
Also, I'm going back. To day 21.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Friday, July 24, 2009
Day 24 - So this isn't good
I'm on a 9 day trip from Philly to Chicago and then finally home for two straight months. It hasn't been going as well as I had hoped. It's the total road to hell is paved with good intentions and I had the best of intentions. I brought fruit on the train. I brought chicken and quinoa perfectly proportioned for lunch and then...and then...conferency things happen. I end up snacking and not eating well. But working out counts for something, right? I didn't schlep all of my workout gear through two states to give up. And so I'm not. But I cannot wait to get home and get back to my routine. My body is even rebelling wondering why I'm not doing what I was doing before. Once again I feel like a bit of a failure yet I know that Sunday cannot come soon enough.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Day 14 - Mad
I brought my stuff to workout. Mat, resistance band thingies, jump rope. Only to be presented with a room that isn't large enough and then a gym meant for people with a wingspan of less than 5 feet.
I went back to my room and cried.
A few sniffles later I realized that I'm glad this happened semi-early on and now I know how to prepare for my next trip. To make sure I find a place to work out. Open space. Anything.
Next week it's Philly. While dripping tears onto my iPhone I mapped out the route to the Whole Foods from my hotel.
That gives me a little bit of hope.
I went back to my room and cried.
A few sniffles later I realized that I'm glad this happened semi-early on and now I know how to prepare for my next trip. To make sure I find a place to work out. Open space. Anything.
Next week it's Philly. While dripping tears onto my iPhone I mapped out the route to the Whole Foods from my hotel.
That gives me a little bit of hope.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Day 13 - Aunt Flo and other exciting things
1) (Men look away if you must) I'm totally PMSing. Every time I eat a cherry I imagine it's a crispy french fry dipped in ranch dressing. It's strange but anger over hemorrhaging for a f*cking week kind of makes me better at working out. It gets out all of my frustration towards being a woman. Which, as of right now, SUCKS.
2) I cheated last night. I had a quarter of a mini-pizza and a beer and then walked around sullen for the rest of the night. Because I'm a CHEATER.
3) I have 9 count 'em NINE solid days of travel coming up. I'm less concerned about exercise seeing as how a jump rope can be easily transferred from one city to another but a bag of boiled eggs? My precious half gallon of milk? The veggies I so lovingly steamed? Not so much. I have no clue how I'm going to eat. The good thing is that on the second leg of my trip, I'm travelling with a good friend who cannot eat gluten, eggs, or anything for that matter. So whenever we travel we end up eating healthy and at healthy places anyway. I think I'll be fine. Also fellow PCPer Gwen Bell will be there. I'm sure she won't let me shove my face with french fries.
a) I'm really going to miss my ultra pasteurized organic milk
b) Also my cherries
4) I'm going to DC for work for two days. I've packed my cherries for this afternoon during the flight. Four plums. Two bananas. I'm equally impressed and disgusted by the amount of produce I go through in a week.
a) It's a lot better when I used to be a shit load of veggies and waste almost all of them.
2) I cheated last night. I had a quarter of a mini-pizza and a beer and then walked around sullen for the rest of the night. Because I'm a CHEATER.
3) I have 9 count 'em NINE solid days of travel coming up. I'm less concerned about exercise seeing as how a jump rope can be easily transferred from one city to another but a bag of boiled eggs? My precious half gallon of milk? The veggies I so lovingly steamed? Not so much. I have no clue how I'm going to eat. The good thing is that on the second leg of my trip, I'm travelling with a good friend who cannot eat gluten, eggs, or anything for that matter. So whenever we travel we end up eating healthy and at healthy places anyway. I think I'll be fine. Also fellow PCPer Gwen Bell will be there. I'm sure she won't let me shove my face with french fries.
a) I'm really going to miss my ultra pasteurized organic milk
b) Also my cherries
4) I'm going to DC for work for two days. I've packed my cherries for this afternoon during the flight. Four plums. Two bananas. I'm equally impressed and disgusted by the amount of produce I go through in a week.
a) It's a lot better when I used to be a shit load of veggies and waste almost all of them.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Day 8 - Wine counts as a fruit, right?
So, Joe Biden is coming tomorrow. Whee. Who doesn't live Joe Biden? He'd probably be a great grandpa what with the purchasing of cute puppies just because and all.
Because he is arriving and he's the biggest celebrity to come to Upstate NY since...EVER...there was a whole tickets debacle. I'll spare you the boring details and the part where I get slightly annoyed and just go straight to the point where I get really annoyed.
Apparently Joe Biden is like Bruce Springsteen so there was this mile long line and rain and freezing cold temperatures and slow moving people. Once I got to the (almost) front of the line lo, there were no more tickets. Of course not!
I go back to the office and make several rounds of phone calls and find out that tickets had been procured while I was out in the rain with icicles forming on my eyelashes. But no one told me about the tickets while I was in the arctic circle and so I return wet after three hours to a bunch of warm and happy people.
And I missed my perfectly measured lunch.
Irritated would be the word I'm looking for. Sometimes my work stresses me out and so I reward myself - many nights a week - with a glass of wine. But tonight I can't have wine. I can look longingly at the stored bottles - always keep bottles around just in case you have unexpected guests - and then walk away with my glass of milk and a metric ton of cherries.
This is a really long winded way of saying that I need to find a new way to cope with my stress. Something that didn't go through fermentation.
This is going to be harder than I thought.
Because he is arriving and he's the biggest celebrity to come to Upstate NY since...EVER...there was a whole tickets debacle. I'll spare you the boring details and the part where I get slightly annoyed and just go straight to the point where I get really annoyed.
Apparently Joe Biden is like Bruce Springsteen so there was this mile long line and rain and freezing cold temperatures and slow moving people. Once I got to the (almost) front of the line lo, there were no more tickets. Of course not!
I go back to the office and make several rounds of phone calls and find out that tickets had been procured while I was out in the rain with icicles forming on my eyelashes. But no one told me about the tickets while I was in the arctic circle and so I return wet after three hours to a bunch of warm and happy people.
And I missed my perfectly measured lunch.
Irritated would be the word I'm looking for. Sometimes my work stresses me out and so I reward myself - many nights a week - with a glass of wine. But tonight I can't have wine. I can look longingly at the stored bottles - always keep bottles around just in case you have unexpected guests - and then walk away with my glass of milk and a metric ton of cherries.
This is a really long winded way of saying that I need to find a new way to cope with my stress. Something that didn't go through fermentation.
This is going to be harder than I thought.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Day 7 - Me against the jump rope
Last month I ran three 5Ks in three weeks and ended up shaving six minutes off of my 5K time. Nowhere near my personal record and light years away from any time I wanted to see flashing in public. Regardless, three down.
At the end of each race someone would say to me "Oh, you make it look so effortless..." and I would give a closed mouth smile and shrug to prevent my lungs from catapulting out of my mouth mid-conversation. Little did they know the huffing and puffing that went on between miles one and two. Or the way I wanted to tell someone to go f*ck themselves mid-run because I was tired. Or the time I was in the middle of a 5K and thought screw it, I'm quitting. But I never did and by the end I would just smoothly run through the finish like it was nothing and promptly get home to pass out. In the shower later, I'd be all, I can't WAIT for the next one. You kind of forget all the pain during the actual process and at the end you feel all bad ass and want to rock out. Which is why I always ended with a smile on my face a swift stride.
That's how I felt during my jump ropes the other day; f*ck this. Day 2 I think it was, when I tripped and almost fell over my cat. At the end, I again felt all bad ass and like I could do that 470 more times. Today seemed to be my lucky day as I did 500 (WTF?!) jumps. Never mind the anxiety that went into my trying to figure out how to count that high while jumping and the cat - seriously, this cat is like permanently attached to my right leg - and how long it would take but mostly the counting.
So I went into the jumps and did 100 at a time and took a quick break to catch myself and re-group and then go back at it. Of course in the middle I was all, "eff this and eff the horse you rode in on" but that's only natural right? But at the end it felt awesome. Perhaps it was the sweat and the adrenaline and the general feeling that if I can get through the next 83 days, I can get through anything.
I briefly flirted with doing 500 more.
At the end of each race someone would say to me "Oh, you make it look so effortless..." and I would give a closed mouth smile and shrug to prevent my lungs from catapulting out of my mouth mid-conversation. Little did they know the huffing and puffing that went on between miles one and two. Or the way I wanted to tell someone to go f*ck themselves mid-run because I was tired. Or the time I was in the middle of a 5K and thought screw it, I'm quitting. But I never did and by the end I would just smoothly run through the finish like it was nothing and promptly get home to pass out. In the shower later, I'd be all, I can't WAIT for the next one. You kind of forget all the pain during the actual process and at the end you feel all bad ass and want to rock out. Which is why I always ended with a smile on my face a swift stride.
That's how I felt during my jump ropes the other day; f*ck this. Day 2 I think it was, when I tripped and almost fell over my cat. At the end, I again felt all bad ass and like I could do that 470 more times. Today seemed to be my lucky day as I did 500 (WTF?!) jumps. Never mind the anxiety that went into my trying to figure out how to count that high while jumping and the cat - seriously, this cat is like permanently attached to my right leg - and how long it would take but mostly the counting.
So I went into the jumps and did 100 at a time and took a quick break to catch myself and re-group and then go back at it. Of course in the middle I was all, "eff this and eff the horse you rode in on" but that's only natural right? But at the end it felt awesome. Perhaps it was the sweat and the adrenaline and the general feeling that if I can get through the next 83 days, I can get through anything.
I briefly flirted with doing 500 more.
Friday, July 3, 2009
Day 3
Once upon a time I had this boring life where I never went anywhere. I lived in DC. I had a schedule and everything had its place in my life. Two years ago I moved back to Upstate NY for my career and was suddenly thrust from not going anywhere ever to never being home ever. In a conversation with coworkers with the same hectic schedule as I we women hemmed and hawed over the pounds gained since taking our positions. The men lose weight and we women suddenly found ourselves with an extra 20 lbs.
Except I found myself with an extra 50 lbs. (and several gray hairs, but whatever). In two years of traveling around the country to the point where I can recite my frequent flier number faster than my social security number. I was explaining to Patrick aka Fearless Leader that I have this job - this life - where I'm always on the go. Never home. Always have my carry-on bag strapped to my hip. That sort of thing.
There are a lot of events and receptions in between. Room service beckons me when I'm on the ground. I don't eat mindfully, it's usually on the run.
I remember when it was fun. It's not anymore.
So the short answer for starting PCP is that who gives a damn if I'm busy. Everyone is busy. And I can't use "busy" as my excuse for being lackadaisical with my health anymore.
Like I told Patrick when he asked if I was sure: "It's do or die. Shit or get off the pot time". But between you and me, I don't want to know what might happen if I don't get in control soon. I'm doing this because I'm starting to get a little terrified for me.
Except I found myself with an extra 50 lbs. (and several gray hairs, but whatever). In two years of traveling around the country to the point where I can recite my frequent flier number faster than my social security number. I was explaining to Patrick aka Fearless Leader that I have this job - this life - where I'm always on the go. Never home. Always have my carry-on bag strapped to my hip. That sort of thing.
There are a lot of events and receptions in between. Room service beckons me when I'm on the ground. I don't eat mindfully, it's usually on the run.
I remember when it was fun. It's not anymore.
So the short answer for starting PCP is that who gives a damn if I'm busy. Everyone is busy. And I can't use "busy" as my excuse for being lackadaisical with my health anymore.
Like I told Patrick when he asked if I was sure: "It's do or die. Shit or get off the pot time". But between you and me, I don't want to know what might happen if I don't get in control soon. I'm doing this because I'm starting to get a little terrified for me.
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