Hey, I've Moved

Guess what, I have started a new blog here. Please update your bookmarks!

Really it's not a NEW blog, it's just a continuation of this one, which has become too large and unwieldy. And I have a pretty new background, that I think I might be tired of already. We'll see...

when did Mârla comb the fork over the dry ticket

Oy, yesterday was hard. Another bad night's sleep. I have to break this pattern soon before I get stuck in a downward spiral. Had terrible zombie dreams, and they were the fast kind of zombies, chasing after us as we fled in a car, and breaking through the windows and grabbing at me with their dead fingers. Errr... does that sound like an anxiety dream, or what? First half of the dream (it continued after I woke myself up once and then went back to sleep!) had Steve Carrel in it, playing his character from The Office, so it was really quite hilarious as well as horrible.

So I spent the day dragging along, barely able to function. I'm just running out of reserve; that's what no sleep will do. It was a low-expectation day for me, just do the minimum and survive it. I think this is where the 90% Plan really did help motivate me. I knew I wouldn't be able to work out, not in any meaningful way, so I determined that I wouldn't make it worse by eating crap or missing my steps. As a result, I ended the day with 6 out of a possible 8 Märla Merits™. Not bad for a rubbish day!

Cto5K news: I ran 12 laps today! That's 1.5 miles; 2.4K. A new personal record. I focused on the ChiRunning method; a lot of people have mentioned that before, including Brent some time ago and more recently I saw it on iDiet. I think it's making a difference already. At the end of the 12 laps I was pretty sure that I could run another 2 or 4 or who knows? Unfortunately I had to pee. A lot. Oh well, there's plenty more laps for next time.

Other news: Hey, Yvonne wrote more than 50,000 words this month! Awesome! I hope some of them were about me.

Sue writes a good post about "why was I fat?": "It was much easier to convince myself that I didn't mind being fat. Sure, I was big, but I could afford to dress well, I had a good job and a lovely family. My man loved me, I was popular at work." I can really relate to that; I used to do the same thing, and I counted up the same blessings. Now I realize the weight DOES matter. I certainly believe a person can live a fulfilling and meaningful life at any weight, but for me being not-fat, or being fit, is an aspect that enables and improves everything else. Oscar Wilde wrote something about money being like a sixth sense, without which you cannot appreciate the other five. That's what becoming fit and losing weight has been to me.
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Should Mârla stay gray ? Yes No.

Things I Have Learned Recently. #1. Pedro is not very good at counting steps. I did some experimenting yesterday, because like Sue I thought the numbers seemed off. It turns out that if I clip Pedro to my belt or the top of my pocket, as I did on Sunday, he tends to count only one-third to two-thirds of the steps I take. Apparently there is not enough movement, or definite movement, around my waist to cause him to tick over. But if I wear him loose in my pocket, he counts about one-third more steps than I actually take. My hipz, zhey wriggle like zee snake, you know. He was more reliable—or consistent—with the pocket method, so I figured that my goal of 5000 steps would be 6500 according to Pedro's own unique way of counting. By bedtime I'd accumulated 7142 without great difficulty, but it certainly didn't happen by itself. Being aware of it made me get up from the computer more often, and do whatever little chores I could think of, which is exactly what I wanted. Because it was a computer-intensive day, I was at a loss a few times: I needed to get some work done but I needed to do some walking... eventually I hopped on and off the glider while I was making dinner. A nice long walk after we ate would have been a better solution, but it was a late night for Bucko, and blah blah this and blah blah that, so I knew it wasn't likely. Hence the glider.

I'm going to set 7000 Pedro steps as my goal for now. I can modify that upward when I have more data to go on. These steps are not counting my workouts, btw, they are in addition.

#2. I can't just get up and run, after sitting for hours. I need a loooong warmup, not the 5 minutes brisk walk in the Cto5K program. I get into my workout clothes at least half an hour before I'm going to run, and gradually increase my activity. I guess that's what getting old is all about...

#3. There's no accounting for a BRD. Today was supposed to be 2.25 miles. I ran .75. I don't get it. I am well-rested, hydrated, have been eating great meals, no alcohol last night... Sometimes the effort is mostly mental, and I have to jolly myself along into finishing. Other times the effort is purely physical, and my body doesn't always cooperate. I ran until my legs wouldn't obey my commands anymore, and that was a measly 6 laps. Whatever. There's always another running day coming up.

How salmon and brown rice transmogrify into a cheeseburger. This excellent post describes why I need to get tougher with myself and stick to 90%. My current mantra: No plan = no results.

Märla was aware of the amount of responsibility that this task gave her

Oh my aching body. Yesterday I did Run #2 of Week Six. It's run 1 mile/walk a quarter mile/run 1 mile, or on my path: run 8 laps/ walk two/ run eight. The first few laps weren't too bad, I had tried warming up on my glider and it worked well—got me partway through that burning-pain, muscle-crampy time at the beginning. But at the end of the first interval of 8 laps, I was really, really, REALLY feeling it. I walked for three laps instead of two; I needed more recovery time. Then I told myself, "Well, just do two more laps for the second interval." Because I can almost always do two laps; it's a small enough distance I can spit it up even if I'm very tired. Which is funny, thinking how a few weeks ago running ONE lap at once was so difficult... anyway, before I even started those next two I decided I was giving up too easily. If I could do two more, I could do four more, which would give me a nice mile-and-a-half total for the day, instead of mile-and-a-quarter. But I found that the second interval went so much better than the first—for the first four laps I felt I was practically gliding over the ground (only in comparison!) So I decided to keep going—I wasn't sure whether I really could do another four, so I couldn't jolly myself along with little mental tricks. I just told myself I would take it a lap at a time, and do what I could do.

Which turned out to be 8 laps! I ran two miles yesterday!!!

The last two laps were killer, and the last lap was nearly unendurable. I was going so slowly that Bucko, who was into his cooldown walk, caught up with me. Walking. Bastard! I tried to yell at him, but I had no breath for it. After it was done I told him he wasn't allowed to humiliate me like that; while running he is welcome to pass me, but when walking if he sees he is catching up he has to change his route. That is my rule.

Now, the next workout is to run the same thing, including the rest laps, straight through. 2.25 miles, or 18 laps. Oh, no way. No no no no way. But since I've said that every time, I'll just wait and see. I'll try it, maybe I can do it :-)

"It's all piping hot now guys so be careful" M@rla said.

How to not overeat at Thanksgiving. We have some friends who are a gay couple. We hang out with them a lot, and I love them both, so understand that I'm making fun of them here, not seriously slamming them. Anyway, they invited us over for Thanksgiving, along with four or five other [gay] guys. They would make the turkey, stuffing, gravy, and a couple other things, and people would bring side dishes. We made garlic mashed potatoes with Roquefort cheese and a really pretty mixed salad with walnuts and tomato wedges and a shallot vinaigrette, and of course the fabulous pumpkin cake, which turned out beautifully.

Now, the thing about our friends is, they're not very gay. That is, they are serious man-loving sodomites, okay, but they're not very gay. They don't dress much nicer than straight guys, they have only slightly more interest in decorating, and they don't know much about cooking. In fact, they and their friends are homersexuals.

Which results in a Thanksgiving dinner cooked by the average man. Six of them, in fact. Oh I know I'm saying something terribly sexist, but just imagine it! It was like having that Tool Time guy give you a manicure. The turkey was okay, baked in a cooking bag of some sort. The gravy was a store-bought mix. The stuffing was a store-bought mix. The rolls were store-bought. One person brought a store-bought pumpkin pie with Coolwhïp. To drink along with dinner? Mïller Lïte. No, I'm not lying, light beer for Thanksgiving dinner.

This resulted in my having an enormous salad, a reasonable chunk of turkey, and about a half-tablespoon of each of the side dishes. A perfectly respectable meal: filling and certainly enough, but not the all-out gorging that can happen with a big feast. Then we sat around and watched Love Actually (perhaps that was the gayness coming out?) and it was a wonderful evening with friends. So believe me, I'm not complaining, it was a win-win situation for me! I feel great today.

Sassy and spunky as ever, M@rla sets out to save the day with her usual courage and tenacity

In no particular order:

• The beach house was great, the weather was wonderful, a lovely weekend even though we didn't see a single meteor in the Leonid Meteor Shower, which is why we went there in the first place. Will try to get a couple pictures up this week.


• My eating was absolute rubbish over the weekend. Not so much quantity, which was only slightly crappy, but quality. Chips, crackers, an ice cream, fries, etc. etc.


• However, I drank very little. Two glasses of wine in the afternoon, two drinks after dinner. Very reasonable.


• One night we ate at an Italian restaurant. I ordered Portabella mushroom stuffed with seafood—sounded like a better alternative to cheese ravioli or three-sausage lasagna. Unfortunately it was breaded and fried, and if there was any seafood in there, it was entirely disguised by the gobs and gobs of cheese sauce. All of which I could have lived with, but it was also so salty I couldn't eat more than a couple bites. It was burning my tongue, it was so salty. The manager was not pleased that I sent it back, because she was obligated to take it off our bill, but come on! I rarely kick up any kind of fuss in a restaurant, I'm not picky or unreasonable, but as far as I'm concerned that was not edible food.


• Due to that meal, and all the other salty food I ate, I gained eight pounds in two days. Yes, yes, I know it's temporary, but it's annoying. I have my annual gyn exam today, and I hate to go in and appear to have gained weight. You tell them "oh no, it's just temporary" and you know they're thinking "Oh, sure it is. I've never heard that story before." Feck.


• Not enough exercise over the weekend: I walked on the beach Saturday morning (I was the only one to get up early and do shit like that; kinda funny) though it wasn't far. Later in the day I went on a longer walk of 2-3 miles; everyone came with me for that one. I am a good influence :-)


• I'm going to redo Week Six of Cto5K. Last week I did the first workout, going for distance instead of time (remember how killer that was?), then the second workout was on pavement and I didn't do even a quarter of what I aimed for, then I didn't get to the third workout at all. So I'll try again this week. Entirely on dirt.

So, the rumor I heard was that M@rla was deported

This is so big, I have to make a quick update before we leave. This morning, for the first time, I went to a park and ran in public. (Yes, in my jammie pants*). And, for the first time, I ran on pavement.

First the good news: I ran! In public! Outside, in a park! Not just in my backyard! Whoot! Whoot! Whoot! I am VERY proud of myself; this is a very big deal to me. A few years ago, I was so self-conscious I couldn't even exercise if Bucko was in the house with me, let alone in the same room. Now we regularly exercise together, and here I am exercising in public, where the entire world can watch my shame (we'll get to that part; thank god Bucko was with me).

The bad news: running on asphalt was so much harder than I ever dreamed of. I'd actually been hoping it would be easier than running on my dirt path, which is quite bumpy and rocky and sometimes muddy. I knew within the first five strides that pavement was going to be a problem. The SHOCK each time my foot hit the ground was frightening. I was planning on two intervals of 16 minutes each; I managed only 2.5 minutes before I had to walk. There was a big-ass hill, not steeper than Ass Burner Hill on my path, but oh so much longer. It just took it out of me; halfway up I was completely winded, my legs were rubber, and my shins hurt. I had to walk for a couple minutes. Then I tried to run again. Made it about 2 minutes. Had to walk. Tried running again; managed about 1.5 minutes. And so it went. After I'd accumulated 10 running minutes, I had to give it up. But... we found a grassy field, I think it's usually used for soccer, and we did a few laps around that. The surface felt like I was running on fluffy clouds in comparison, but I was entirely spent energy-wise, so it was only half wonderful.

Well. I am horribly, horribly disappointed that it went so poorly. When I realize how far I am from a 5k, it's... sinister in its implications. But, I am not discouraged. Disappointed, not discouraged, if you see the difference. It doesn't make me want to give up; I just am realizing that this will not be a 9-week program for me. That's OK; there's no reason it can't be an 18-week or 36-week program. There's no deadline. And I am feeling triumphant and pleased that I did it at all. Bucko, in a misguided and unnecessary attempt to "cheer me up," kept saying all these dumb-ass things that were supposed to be motivating, and I finally had to tell him to stop it. I said, "A year ago I never even considered the possibility of running. Period. Today I am complaining and griping because I wasn't able to run as far as I wanted, or as fast as I wanted. I'm happy with that."

And I am. And now I'm off for a weekend vacation. Bye.

*I did put some elastic in the leg cuffs; now they look a lot more like sweatpants. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.