Fitness Faux Pas: Exactly When Was the Last Time You Moisturized?

Did yoga yesterday and during class started staring any my feet and they looked so dry and scaly, they might as well have belonged to Rango. Then I spent a good five minutes (while in downward dog) wondering if my cracking white toes that haven't had a pedicure (even a home one) since summer were offending the poor woman who had set up her mat mere inches behind me.

Today's Exercise: Guess That's Why They Call It a Training Run

So I did another 12 mile run this morning (my second so far) and while I finished in about the same amount of time as the last one.... I learned a lot of valuable lessons. I suppose that if doing a half marathon was just as easy as adding a few miles every week, I could have done it a long time ago (well, I might have crawled through it, but still). So here's what I learned today:

1. It's more fun running with company
The last couple of times I did long runs, my brother came with me and since he's a lot faster than I am, it pushed me to do my physical best to keep up with him. Plus, while fellow runner and walkers were nice and waving or nodding hello, it wasn't the same as having someone to talk to through the huffing and puffing.

2. Location makes a difference
Today I did a run on a beautifully kept multi-use path in Bergen County. It was exactly six miles, so it made a perfect 12 mile loop. Normally, I plan a path using mapmyrun and just head out on streets. There are pros and cons to both, but I think (while this path was scenic and lovely) that part of me prefers the streets. I've got my GPS on to track my distance, but it normally only alerts me every half-mile, just so I can check my pace. But here, on this path today, there were mile markers every 1/10th of a mile. So it was easy to see just how fast/slow I was moving... and how far I had to go. There's something about just doing it, without seeing the visual all the time that is kind of relaxing.

3. Charge your phone
I was keeping up a pretty good pace... until my iPhone died. Seems some moron forgot to charge the battery last night. Yes, that moron was me. I'm used to running with music, and it keeps me pumped up/distracted. So not to have it, was kind of odd. I thought I'd like the silence, but again... without the company I was overly focused on the mile markers, and not anything else. And I didn't get that nice rewarding Nike GPS voice telling me what a good job I did after completing a long run.

4. Once you stop, its hard to get going again
I've been doing Jeff Galloway's run/walk/run program, and it is great. So I was running for 2/10ths of a mile and then walking 1. Not exactly his plan, but vaguely close to it. But when I hit mile 10, I slowed down for a couple tenths of a mile (got distracted by the cute kids on a playground), and at that point, getting going again was near impossible. I tried repeatedly to get back into my stride, but my feet and legs were burning and I just couldn't get in the groove, and I ended up walking most of the last two miles. It was disappointing to myself, because normally I save my energy pretty well and can usually get a little boost at the end. Today, I was just happy to get to the car. I know the esteemed Jeff Galloway says that you can't run too slow on a training run, but after today... I think he might be wrong.

5. Colds and running? Not perfect together
I had a bit of a cold this morning, but just a little stuffy, nothing with a fever or seriously debilitating. I actually thought the run might make me feel better. And it did. But those first few miles were a challenge, trying to keep my breathing right when I couldn't actually breathe out of my nose. But I finally was able to breathe and felt good... just about the time my legs started to feel the strain of running six miles.

6. I still don't really like running
That's actually not entirely true. I like running for about three or four miles. And I really like being outside and in the fresh air. But mostly I started running so I could be better at triathlons, and to get in better shape in general. But around mile 7 today, I kept thinking it would have been really nice to be one of the people who were out riding on their bikes. I'm far more comfortable with wheels underneath me. Still, I appreciate the cardio workout from my run/walks... so I'll keep doing it.

Can't wait for yoga tomorrow to stretch my sore legs out.
I'm slowly improving as a runner

Today's Exercise: The Trifecta of Pain

Technically this was yesterday's exercise at this point, but since my forearms and wrists hurt so much last night... typing was a task far beyond my capability.

I got up yesterday morning before the crack of dawn and went out for a run. There was a light dusting of snow on the ground, but it was so great to be back outside running since I'm the worst treadmill runner on the planet (though my trainer Basil would say it is him). While my GPS was a little haywire and kept saying I was running at a ridiculous pace (I blame the cloud cover and the rain), it still felt like a really good and strong three mile run.

But then last night, I did my new Thursday routine. I almost had the night off thanks to an invite to go out from a friend, but I ended having to skip the outing for personal reasons too numerous to explain in a short blog post (my arms still hurt, people). Anyway, since i was home, figured I'd go get my gym on. Went to Basil at 8:30 and he beat me up. Apparently, he thought I got an easy workout from the cute blonde girl the other day and decided to train me hard as some sort of disturbing lesson. He loaded me up with heavier weights than I'm used to and had me do dead lifts with a little curl up, that just destroyed my forearms and wrists. Then he decided it was fun to have me stand on one leg and do every variation of a one-arm exercise that he could think of, with more reps than I'm used to. He seemed awfully pleased with himself, as I stumbled off to yoga.

At yoga, she again showed no mercy. When I was in full wheel and couldn't hold it, she came right over and told me "we don't go backwards in this class". I explained my wrists hurt from the trainer and she essentially told me to suck it up in a nice way. I'm not the super whiny type, but man, I understand why some people are.

On the plus side, I almost (ALMOST!) made it into a headstand. I've been working on it, and it involves a lot of core strength (which I am severely lacking). I got onto my head and raised my feet up slightly more than an inch off the ground. Headstands don't just let you kick up into them like a handstand (which I can also only sort of do), and just require you to pull your legs up really, really slowly. I didn't quite make it last night, but I can see the light. Now if I could just move my arms.

Five-Boro Bike Tour: Worst Traffic Jam Ever

Last year I did the Five-Boro Bike Tour through New York City and at 40+ miles, it was the first really intense physical test that I put myself through. But I've come to the decision that while I enjoyed most of it, I won't be doing this same ride again again. Driving over the BQE, which is still under construction (and was the worst part of last year's event), this weekend solidified it, but I mostly just feel like I did it and now need to move on to the next big challenge. Maybe a century ride (or at least the 75 mile route of a century ride). If I was limitless in funds, perhaps I would indulge in this early spring ride, but its $75 (not counting the six dollar lottery fee), and I've got plans to do at least two triathlons this year, and perhaps some 5Ks, the aforementioned century ride, a ton of hiking and other adventures as well, so this is just cost prohibitive. And after seeing that BQE construction, I'm not convinced that even with the new "improvements" (of doing a lottery and start time waves) that I won't be stuck in a traffic jam like I was last year.

I signed up for this race, dreaming of riding over the Verrazano Bridge (which normally doesn't allow you to drive straight down the middle of it.) I'd ridden over the Manhattan and Brooklyn the summer before and found the experience quite special. So on the first day of May 2011, I drove my car to Jersey City and hoped on a PATH train with hundreds of other bikers. The only difference? I had my helmet in hand, but no bike on me, as at the time I had no real way to get my bike into the city without riding 15 miles to the PATH train... and then riding 40 miles for the race. Now, I might consider that a viable option, but then, 40 miles seemed utterly daunting.

So I picked up my rental bike (a hybrid, like I use normally) and positioned myself in the mid-back of the line. Well, as close as I could get. There were thousands of people ahead of me and thousands behind, as we all crammed into the tiny streets down by the site of the World Trade Center.

There was a nercous anticipation in the air, as we all stood around for over an hour, anxiously awaiting the race start. And then the time for the race to start passed, and we still had only moved a small amount. That's the problem with a mass start, is that with over 30,000 (yes, I do mean that number) riders (some with children in tow), if you aren't at the head of the pack, you don't get to start anywhere close to the official time.

I made friends with a nice guy who was using the race as a prep run on his new bike, before he headed out on a weeklong cross-state bike ride somewhere out in the Midwest with his friends. He was a very nice man, but of course I didn't think to exchange information with him, I was too worried about when this ride would actually begin.

When we finally got started, it was slow going, but heading through the official start banner (blocks and blocks up from where we'd been waiting) was thrilling. And riding up Sixth Avenue (aka Avenue of the Americas), only having to stop at major intersections like 14th St, 34th, 42nd and 57th was a luxury that most cab drivers would kill for. So with only those momentary delays, I easily traveled up to Central Park (losing my new friend in the masses somewhere after Bryant Park).

But then I got to Central Park, and that's where the problems started. Entering the park was easy enough, people were forced to merge down from the wide Sixth Avenue to the Bike Loop that circles the park, but that worked well until we ran into a dispatcher type person, who was sitting on a perch, and letting people go in small groups. Hadn't the slow trickled out start put us at enough of a disadvantage? Apparently not. So there was a lot more standing around and pushing my bike, before we were finally released.

I actually started picking up a bit of speed (once I figured out how to switch the gears on the rental bike to get up the hill), and heading to the top of Central Park... I dropped my camera. It had been wrapped around my wrist, but it flew off. Perhaps I shouldn't have been biking and trying to grab some snapshots at the same time. But I will say that my poor little Waterproof/Shockproof Canon got put to the test that day, as it flew about 20 feet, landed in the midst of speeding bikers, got run over at least once and still managed to take more pictures (as evidenced in the rest of this post), though it looked like hell and lost its strap. I though had to hop off my bike, wait for a break in riders, run out into the road, and hop back onto my bike before getting taken out by someone speeding by. Bicyclists don't like to slow their momentum, if they can help it.
And at that same time I realized that my back tire was more than a little flat (who knows if I was one of the cyclists that took a roll over my camera. But thankfully, at the north exit of the park in Harlem, there was a bike stand kindly pumping up tires.

And then it was off of Manhattan to the second of the five boros -- The Boogie Down Bronx. Or at least I think it was the Bronx. I might have blinked and missed it for the length of time we spent there on the course. I don't have the exact measurements, but if it was more than a mile, I'd be shocked. And even for my slow self, going through was a super brief experience. Over one tiny bridge and then back to Manhattan before I knew what was happening.

Then it was on to the FDR drive, arguably one of the cooler parts of the ride. There's just something about zipping down a highway, while cars are speeding in the other direction at you, that adds a bit of madness to the whole biking experience. Plus, there were large crowds of people in that section of Manhattan who camped out by the side of the road to cheer people on (even though it was a fun ride and not a timed race).

It was cool, and I particularly liked riding through the tunnel. As all of the riders had a great time shouting and yelling to make echoes. It made the whole thing more of a relaxed group experience. And even though I still less than halfway through the course, I started to feel a sense of confidence as I saw lots of families on bikes and cyclists of all ages just moving right along. At that point, I knew that I'd be able to finish, and stopped stressing about how fast I'd finish it. Good thing, because later on, I had no control over my finishing time at all.


Then it was up and over the Queensboro Bridge. There was a couple minute delay, as people had to be checked to make sure they had their appropriate bibs on, and weren't just bike interlopers trying to take advantage of the closed streets. I think it was a safety issue, because there were a lot of cops, but as someone who had paid a decent amount of money to take part in this, I was glad that there was some sort of notice being taken, as I did see several people just try and hop in to the ride.

But back to the Bridge. Once I got cleared to head on, I kept thinking about how hard it was to get up to the center of the Brooklyn Bridge, and that I wasn't going to get off and walk, no matter how hard it was. And I didn't. I fiddled with my gears (I still really am clueless about that aspect) and found something that I could do, slowly crawled to the top, and enjoyed the ride down and into Queens.

I don't normally spend much time along the Queens waterfront, and I didn't then either. I just kept peddling and before I knew it I was at a small bridge that I never knew existed. It is a tiny overpass that connects the boros of Brooklyn and Queens. Seeing things like this is just one of the reasons I like being out on these sorts of rides, its not the likely route that your GPS would send you on if you were trying to get from Point A to Point B by car.

At this point there was another standstill, but there was also a nice rest area. I'd been plugging along for a few hours (a lot of it standing and waiting), so took some snacks and a bathroom break before powering on. No, I didn't take the banana phone from the guy in the picture. I hadn't been planning on stopping, as I'd packed my own beverages and whatnot, but in my mind I was already going to be near the finish line, so I decided it was OK.

And I'm glad I stopped, because shortly thereafter was where the real trouble started. First we were corralled into a side street in the shade waiting for 30 minutes or so just to get on the BQE. The peppy volunteer there said that they were trying to ease congestion on the highway, and were keeping people back and letting them go in groups. Again, we'd been held and separated at multiple points before, people just ride at all different paces, bunching really is to be expected.

Still, when we were finally let on the BQE, there was congestion like nothing I'd ever seen before. I've been stuck in traffic on that same highway, but never for three hours. And never while standing in the beating sun without air conditioning or extra water or anything of that ilk. More like an hour in my car with the tunes cranked up sitting comfortably in park. If that woman who was trying to stall us from getting on the BQE had told us this was ahead of us, I'd have happily waited in the shade for another hour, because the rays were merciless. Thankfully, I found someone with some extra sunscreen (I'd applied before I left the house, but didn't pack it because I thought I'd be gone for 4 hours at the most. Not closer to 10.

Standing looking at the thousands of bikers ahead of me, I feared that there had been a major accident and someone had been severely injured. I started feeling terrible. But then I found out from a volunteer who worked the earlier part of the race, and joined in for the end, that wasn't the case at all. That there was construction (that the race organizers were aware of), that took the five lane highway down to one very narrow lane. No one ever thought that squeezing 32,000 bikers through a narrow one lane exit ramp was a bad idea? They didn't consider an alternate route (particularly since there was a surface road RIGHT UNDERNEATH US? It was insanely frustrating to discover that. And close to three hours later when it was finally my turn to take the exit ramp down to the Belt Parkway, my legs were like Jello and peddling was a challenge. Gee, standing up on tar after biking close to 30 miles, and then trying to get back on that bike after three hours of standing is hard? Yeah. It is. And painful.

Eventually my legs began to work again, though I was mentally exhausted and was running low on water. But I could see the Verrazano Bridge ahead and knew that soon I'd be peddling over it... though getting up to it was another story. I grabbed some water from the rest center, and very, very, very slowly made my way up the on ramp to the Verrazano. My friend Dom can tell you all of the technicals about this bridge and something about how it had to be adjusted for the curve of the earth because it is so long. But all I know is that when you are peddling up over it, you think you see the top of the hill, but when you get to that point, it is just an illusion and it goes further. Not that I'm complaining, but at Mile 38 (and after the unexpected traffic nightmare) this was a daunting task.

Once over the bridge, I was quickly ushered into the big party. But that was only mile 39. I was very confused. Sure I was in my fifth boro, as we had just entered Staten Island, but I had been promised 42 miles, and didn't know why we were celebrating when there was more to this ride still to come. I looked longingly at the food trucks, but knew if I scarfed down a hamburger, getting back on a bike was going to be painful. Still, I stopped and bought a tee-shirt and listened to music for a few minutes, before realizing I had to get my rental bike back to the ferry (at the REAL end of the race) within the hour. Given the delays... I wasn't going to take any chances.

So I rode through Staten Island extremely slowly (with a lot of people who look like they had partied a bit too hard at the festival) and ended up in yet another mad jam of people trying to get on the ferry back to Manhattan. At this point, I was used to being crushed and prodded and couldn't have been more grateful to see the rental bike drop off. I'd like to say that I didn't throw the bike at them and run to the ferry... but I'd be lying. I got rid of that bike as soon as I could, hopped the ferry and made my way back to Jersey City and then to my house just as quickly as I could. Opting for a PATH train that had seats instead of thousands of bicycles.

I did really enjoy getting to see the sights and pushing myself to my limit, but when I think of a ride, I think of constant movement with only momentary delays for stop lights etc. Not delays that collectively took more time than the actual ride. I do think that it would have been more fun if I were with someone else, to make the frustrating parts a little less dull. Standing on the bridge for three hours twiddling your thumbs desperately trying to make awkward conversation with the people around you who are all pissed off about the situation, isn't exactly the stress relief that I usually seek while on my bike. So now I'm off to find a ride with more cool stuff to see, and not too many hills, and definitely one that is low on the urban traffic.

Fitness Faux Pas: That Awkward Moment When...

You realize in the middle of a group class that you forgot to shave your underarms that morning. Do you try and tuck them in, or just do your tree pose with hairy pride?

Today's Exercise: The New Girl

Went to the gym tonight for a quick training session, but neither of my regular two trainers were available, so I had to pick someone else from their list of trainers. I selected a sweet looking girl named Kristen, petite blonde girl who I've seen smiling nicely when I checked in. Yeah. She's a hardass. I should have known. She had me do circuits of four exercises, doing them for a length of time and then breaking for a few seconds. Standard stuff -- squats with weights, mountain climbers etc... Then she switched to a different four exercises - bench presses, push-ups, bicep curls and then the worst thing she could think of -- dynamic planks. Where you are on your elbow in plan position, then stay in that position while you plant your hands and push up. After 50 bicep curls, 50 bench presses and 35 push-ups, this is quite the challenge. I'm sure I'll feel it tomorrow. But more than a good workout, I learned a valuable lesson -- never underestimate the tiny blonde girls.

Today's Exercise: I Think I Might Be Crazy

I had Isabel today, so I couldn't really get in a full workout (since the gym's daycare was closed). But we did find a power yoga episode on Demand from one of the fitness channels, and I did that, while Isabel tried alongside me griping that warrior 3 was hard. Watching her was quite distracting, so not sure I got the best workout, but it was better than nothing and at least it was fun.

But back to me being crazy. We drove out to Brooklyn to visit some friends and go to a going away party, and along the West Side Highway in Manhattan, and along the Belt Parkway in Brooklyn, there are these gorgeous well-kept bike and walking paths. Despite yesterday's snow storms, these paths were cleared and were getting quite a bit of use. There were plenty of people happily jogging and biking along, and while I may gripe about being in the cold, I experienced a sense of jealousy. All I could think of was how I would love to be bopping along the West Side Highway. I actually WANTED to be running. And was itching to be out on my bike (though my bike is the furthest thing from winterized). I keep saying that I've yet to experience that elusive runner's high that people talk about. But yet, for the first time, I willingly wanted to be out running. Not just because of my training, but because I think while I might actually enjoy it a little bit? Who knew that would ever happen. I still gripe and complain in my head while I'm doing it, but when I'm not out doing it, I wish that I was. So obviously, I've come to the conclusion that I've completely lost my mind.

Today's Exercise: I Was Not The ONLY Idiot at the Gym This Morning

We had a little overnight snowstorm here in Jersey (though I went to bed at 2 AM and it hadn't started yet, so probably more like early morning snowstorm). But I'm trying hard to stick to my running training schedule, so I had to get that Saturday run in somehow. So even though I hate the treadmill with a passion, I trekked to the gym. I was slightly worried that they wouldn't be open (they usually open at 8), but when I got there at 8:15, the place was actually pretty busy with at least 200 people there. Other crazies, so I felt right at home.

I did about 2 miles on the treadmill, before I remembered that I hate the treadmill with a passion. Give me outdoors and hills and random traction, rather than trying not to fall off a piece of machinery, while worrying that the guy behind me is staring at my jiggly butt.

I switched over and did 15 minutes on the rowing machine (as I can actually tolerate), and then headed back out into the snow. Leaving the rest of the crazies to finish their workouts.

Oh, and the best part? I got an amazing parking spot for the first time ever at that gym.

By the Power of Greylock

After my trip to Costa Rica, I felt the urge to start hiking again, something I hadn't done much of since I was a teenager (even then it was a few trips up Mt. Washington, and not much more). My little brother has this fabulous goal to climb the highest peak in each state (also known as "highpointing"). So while I had planned an adventure weekend over Labor Day in 2010, we decided since we were in Western Massachusetts, we might as well cross Mt.
Greylock (3,491 ft.) off his list.

I really hadn't done much in the way of hiking, at least nothing that involved scaling an actual mountain. A hilly walk on Bear Mountain and a rolling non-peak walk in the Shawagunks earlier in the year, but neither of them really required me hoisting my plus-sized body to the top of a mountain. And definitely nothing that involved the terrain that the Appalachian trail offered up. And given that I was hiking with my dad and brother, that meant we couldn't park on one of the easy trails. Nope. We had to start at the trail at the very bottom of the mountain and work our way up.

It didn't take more than twenty minutes for me to realize just how out of shape I was. My poor brother carried the water and snacks, so I didn't even have the excuse that a pack was weighing me down. I had top stop every few yards to catch my breath, and was drinking water like I was in a desert. I was thrilled when my brother spotted the wreckage of an old plane crash, as that meant we could stop while he climbed over the brush to get a closer look.

But that relief was short lived, as there was a stretch towards the summit which was just basically a stone staircase. I was extremely grateful when a drizzle began to fall, as it provided some relief, and propelled me up to the top of the mountain. I somehow even got enough energy to climb the lighthouse-esque building at the top, so I could say that I went all the way up. I'm a sucker for all things lighthouse and waterfall, and will usually go the extra mile for the promise of seeing them (with very few exceptions). For me, they are like dangling a carrot in front of a horse.

And there was a nice little restaurant as a reward/break. I got a nice peanut butter sandwich and it was delicious. Honestly, it could have tasted like dirt and I would have happily wolfed it down. After driving about four hours to get to the mountain and hiking for a couple hours, I was starving and wiped... and yet still had to climb all the way back down. And no, sitting on the top and waiting for my brother and father to come back up the mountain road and get me wasn't an option. I stubbornly like to finish what I start, so we headed back down the mountain to our cars and I felt that wonderful sense of accomplishment when we finally reached our cars. There's just something about saying, "I climbed a mountain", no matter the size of it, that just sounds pretty cool.

That hike rekindled my love for the outdoor activity (or at least my love for seeing the cool sights that you can only see on foot), and made me request hiking poles and a camelback as holiday gifts that year. Me. The girl who a year prior had barely had the energy to walk more than a mile or two if there was the slightest hint of a hill involved. Must have been something about the power of Greylock that propelled me. Just glad we didn't run into Skeletor.

Today's Exercise: I Think My Trainer and Yoga Instructor Are In Cahoots

Last night I did my personal training session with the always crazy Basil. You know, he's the guy who trains my trainer. And the guy who always has my ears ringing by the end of the session because I'm working out so much. That guy. So I'm close to the end of doing this grueling regiment that includes some sort of weight thing called a woodchopper (where you take a 20 lb. weight and swing it like an ax), and then those awful things where you hold two weights in your hands and do pushups (in increasing increments), stand and do pressups, and then some deadlifts for good measure, when my yoga instructor walks by. At first she sees Basil and says a friendly hello, and then she notices me. It's about five minutes before class (and five minutes before my personal training torture ends) and she stares at me and says, "you'd better be coming to class." I grunt that I am but I might not be able to move my arms, as I was in the middle of a series of deadlifts. She and Basil both laugh, and Adrienne assures me that I will be able to do yoga. And I did. After a rough few vinyasas, I actually felt like the room wasn't spinning and made it through class. And, I almost managed to get myself into the <a href="http://www.yogajournal.com/poses/468" target="_blank">crow/crane pose</a> (which I've been working on). I only held it for about three seconds before I actually fell on my ass and Adrienne laughed, but it was a step in the right direction. My arms may be super sore this morning (typing was a taxing proposition last night at 10:30 when I got home) but I can see some muscle definition finally starting to happen. Or at lest that's what I'm telling my self to make the pain all worth it.

The Daily Battle: From Couch Potato to Gym Rat

The biggest challenge for my new lifestyle is that by day I'm a writer/editor for a TV website. As a TV critic, I have to watch upwards of 80 hours of television a week. Yes, 80. And that's probably underestimating by a little bit. I do get to watch a lot of it during the day at work, and thanks to the magic of DVR I can skip through the rehashed moments of The Bachelor and all of the previously ons that exist. But I do love my job, even though it means that my workouts have to happen at some really peculiar hours.

My yoga instructor always jokes on Thursday nights that she wants us to focus and remember why we are there instead of home watching Project Runway (her reality show of choice). I just think about how while I'm at a yoga class that runs from 9-10 PM, I have my DVR (at home and the office) working overtime to grab not only Runway, but multiple other shows. And when I get home, I've got to stay up to watch several shows that I only have room to tape at home, so that I can watch the others the next morning. Could I skip late night yoga and just sit and watch my shows and get to bed before midnight? I could, but I love the way my power yoga class makes me feel, so sacrificing an hour or two of sleep is a small price to pay.

Other days of the week, I watch TV at night, and get out for my morning runs (usually at least two times during the week), its usually about 5:30/6 AM. And yes, all you over protective moms out there, I do have a reflective strap that I wear.

I was always one of those people who said that I didn't have time to workout. I couldn't possibly do it, but I think for me it is all about desire. I really want to be in shape, get healthy and be able to do all of the adventures I want. In order to do those things, I've got to put in some hours doing the work... otherwise my progress will halt to a standstill. So I just keep motoring on, still watching a lot of TV and getting my workouts in at the same time. Do I actually have the time with my work and kid and commute? Probably not, but I've found a way to juggle my craziness.

I'm On the Juice

There haven't been any exercise posts in the last couple of days, and that's because I'm in the middle of my two day juice cleanse. The LA Weight Loss "Take Off" isn't just a liquid diet (thank god), its juice coupled with a small amount of protein and unlimited vegetables of the green variety. And my wonderful consultant advised me to "go easy" on the exercise for the few days while I was doing this. I think she's afraid I might pass out at the gym due to the low calories. So, despite my stubborn nature, I listened, and just opted to do a few crunches and extra flights of stairs for these two days.

The first few times I did this cleanse, I thought I'd barely make it, but I really love the way the detox makes me feel afterwards. I can almost feel myself getting lighter. Sure I stare at the tourists scarfing down Ben & Jerry's cones under my office building like they are rare creatures in a zoo. Sure I looked at my daughter's pizza last night with a distinct longing. Sure I start staring at the Subway sandwich product placements on <I>The Biggest Loser</I> and think they might actually taste good. But it is only a few days. And hopefully, the results will show on the scale on Sunday. Fingers crossed.

Today I Am M

 I got a sweater for the holidays from Ann Taylor Loft, and while it was a size Large, it was enormous. Even though the style was slouchy, it was really like I was swimming in it. So I headed back to the store to exchange it, they didn't have that same sweater, but I had Isabel with me yesterday as we picked out a new sweater. She was so excited that it was an "M", and even happily told my mother that mommy got an "M". I had to explain to my mom that this meant Medium.

I realize that Ann Taylor Loft sizes tend to be cut on the generous side, but still, I can't even remember the last time I had a shirt that was a medium. I thought for me the big milestone was getting a shirt that didn't have an X in front of it, but somehow one that doesn't have an L involved at all is even sweeter than I could have imagined. And it is reassuring that while the scale has been stubborn the last few week's, all this hard work has really been paying off as I'm toning and shrinking.

The Myth That Long Island Is Flat

My friends go out to a lovely spot in Amagansett on Long Island every summer, and at the end of June 2010, I tagged along with them. After taking the swanky jitney out there, they picked me up and showed me where the bike shop was... in case I wanted to rent a bike to go for a lovely little ride the next morning while they were sleeping in. I'm a very early riser, so after getting up, I decide to go exploring. I went down to the bike shop, rented a nice little hybrid, took one of their maps and head out for a ride.

After a few miles of fairly flat terrain, I was feeling awesome and had this thought that I could ride all the way to the Montauk lighthouse. Well, that didn't go so well. I got to a spot called Hither Hills and felt like I was going to die. I always thought that Long Island was one just big flat stretch from Queens to Montauk with gentle hills in between. After seeing the large rolling hills ahead of me, and feeling like I might throw up (at about 12 miles, it was the longest stretch of biking I'd done to that point), I decided to turn around and head back.



But the ride back wasn't totally smooth sailing, the nice seemingly even road I'd traveled out, was actually a slow decline, which meant that the way back was actually uphill. My legs were burning like crazy. So much for the nice easy vacation ride I'd anticipated.

When I got back to the bike shop, the guys there asked me how my ride was and I told them where I went and they had all they could do not to laugh. The problem then? I was still about a mile from the hotel, and had to walk back... and my legs were like jelly. Thankfully, there was a snack shop along the way where I could rest my weary legs, before getting back to the hotel and blissfully sitting on the beach for a few hours.

Today's Exercise: Training By Isabel

When I realized on Saturday that I could squeeze in an extra personal training session today during my day off. So I signed up for one at 3:30 at the gym, thinking I could drop Isabel off at the babysitting kid gym in the front for my 30 minute torture session. Never did it occur to me that the Kids Club at my gym wasn't open all day. It is only open until noon and then it is closed until 4, when it opens up until 8 PM. Who knew? Being home during the day is really a whole new world. 

So when I arrived at the gym, I had to bring Isabel to the training desk with me. She was thrilled to sit and watch me exercise, sadistic little child that she is. She sat by the stack of weights and was fascinated to see me do about a hundred different squats of different varieties. Even counting along to ten while I had to hold the position. Then did dead lifts and bicep curls, followed by some overhead tricep presses. When my trainer Randi mentioned that she was giving me a "light weight" of 20 lbs. to do my curls, Isabel piped up that she should give me more to do so that I could get stronger. 

And after my 30 minute circuit with no real break, that ended in crunches and some core work, Isabel's response, "That was so short. Are you sure you are done?" I had all I could do to stand up and put on my coat, and she just wanted me to workout more. She happily recounted my session to my mom afterwards, particularly liked the "wiggly weight bar" (aka the curl bar) and the "light up weights" (the weights that were in neon colors). Since she recently added personal training to her list of dream occupations (after Fire girl, hair dresser and ballet teacher), I think she might be well on her way. 

Today's Exercise: Does Looking for My Swim Goggles Count?

I got up early for my power yoga class, which was fantastic. She basically apologized for not trying to kill us last week, and then proceeded to be brutal through the whole class. So obviously I loved it a real lot. I can't currently move... which is always a good sign.

I was planning on going back later to the gym for a nice swim, but when I got home I had lunch and started looking around for my swim gear which has been hiding since I finished my triathlon in September. My outdoor pool closed and I've been busy with other activities. So I found my swimsuit, started looking for my goggles, realized they were buried deep in my closet under all the random holiday decorations.

Then the idea of digging through that stuff and having to CLEAN out the close of doom got too overwhelming, and I didn't go back to swim. I know, I try and be inspirational, and today I'm coming off as lazy. HOWEVER, I did find my open water goggles, which were with my slightly more accessible SCUBA stuff, so really, I can wear those to the pool and just look silly.... tomorrow.

The High Price of Privacy

I recently watched a TV show about Million Dollar Rooms, and one of the spaces featured was a gym at Mark Wahlberg's house... that probably has about every weight machine you can imagine, free weights and a full scale boxing ring.... in addition to a full size basketball course with a giants Celtics logo in the middle. But as his housekeeper-type person noted, it was an investment so that he didn't have to go to the gym with real people. And I bet it doesn't have pesky hours to deal with.

And today I read this article in The Hollywood Reporter about super exclusive boutique gyms that are mostly visited by celebrities... as they are the only ones who could possibly afford them. Part of me was jealous that they probably actually have equipment that is cleaned on a fairly regular basis and that they don't have to work out with their trainer in a space that is barely wide enough to swing their arms in, but then I realized that they miss out on some spectacular people-watching. That's half of the highlight of going to the gym for me, since I'm in Jersey and you could safely say that a lot of these men see Ronnie from Jersey Shore as their idol. And I don't have to spend 25,000 a month for the privilege of getting fit.

Today's Exercise: Run/Walk/Strength Train

I woke up this morning thinking that I might got for a swim today. But that didn't happen. Perhaps if my gym was open 24 hours, it might have worked out, but by the time I mustered enough energy after my morning workout, it was about 20 minutes before the gym was going to close.

What I did do was my "long" run for my half-marathon training. After last week's doozy of a 12-mile-run, four miles seemed like nothing... at least until I got out there for running. The first mile was what the Disney coaching calls a Magic Mile. You just try and do your best mile time, without killing yourself and still breathing. I did OK, and shaved a few seconds off the last one I did, which is always the goal. But man, it was mighty windy out today. That cutting wind whipping across the open field where I was doing my track running was cold. I actually willingly went on the uphill loop because it was sheltered by a lot of trees.

But by the last mile, my legs were not quite working the way I wanted, and I ended up walking a lot more than I usually do. Still, I got from point A to point B, which my dad always tell me is the whole point.

Then after that I headed to the gym for my training session with Randi. My inner thighs were still sore from my squat heavy workout with Basil on Thursday night, so I actually laughed out loud when the first thing Randi instructed me to do was jump squats onto a step platform that was about eight inches off the ground. Three sets of 20. And then she had some other step related thing that involved hopping and toe touching, I was just glad I didn't fall on my ass. I think she realized my legs were dead, so she moved on to some nice bi & tricep workout before ending with some arm work.

It was all I could do to lift my laundry into the machine when I got home. How do those Jersey Shore kids handle the gym, tan, laundry routine?

Swimming With Sharks

Most women want to swim with dolphins, and while I'm not against that if it involves being somewhere tropical and preferably in my hard-earned SCUBA gear, but for my birthday, I wanted to swim with sharks. Yes, actual sharks.

While on a duck boat tour of Philadelphia earlier in the year of 2009, the tour guide pointed out Camden's Adventure Aquarium and noted that you could swim with sharks there. My ears perked up, and I told my family that was what I wanted to do for my birthday. I got a few patient head nods and a few quizzical glares. But it stuck in my head and I couldn't stop thinking about it. I mentioned it to my then husband a few times (even sent him the link), but I could tell he thought that I was more than a little bit on the crazy side of things. So, I did what any normal girl would do. I bought it for myself. It's not shoes, but it was definitely an impulse purchase.

My parents happened to be back down visiting again (I'd say for me, but I know they came to see their granddaughter) and wanted to come along to see me actually do this. So we piled into the car, sat in an endless amount of traffic on the Jersey turnpike because of an accident, and I pulled up to the spot with about all of two minutes to spare.

It was just myself and one other woman who had signed up to take a dip in the shark tank (which is actually an awesome tank, that has one of those tunnels you can walk through like in Jaws 3). So we got dressed in our gear (it was a wetsuit nightmare, and I had to sausage myself into one that was probably meant for a guy), got a quick snorkeling lesson, and then stepped down onto the platform, that rims the top of the tank and leaves you submerged about thigh deep (I'm short, so adjust accordingly).

After our guide shooed away the pesky eel that was blocking our path, we were brought around to the far side of the tank, where we were instructed to stay behind the bit of rock and float. This wasn't exactly the "swimming" I had imagined when I thought of swimming with sharks. This was more like floating near sharks. But as a giant nurse shark who was about 12 feet long got within four inches of my face, I felt like I was getting quite the experience. And one of the sharks seemed in a curious mood and kept nudging his pointy snout in our direction, and the guide had to shoo him away with a pole. While it wasn't like I had imagined scuba diving would be, it was still 15 minutes of getting a really special view of these magnificent creatures.

But the best part wasn't even really something I knew was going to happen. We got to go over to a stingray tank, which wasn't accessible or visible to the public, and play with them. As we got into their little lagoon, they immediately started bumping up against us in our legs and just wanted to be pet. Seriously. They were like little puppies who just wanted attention... and food. The thing that got me was how soft they really were. They look very rubbery and unappealing on TV, but really getting to pet them for an extended period of time, I couldn't help but marvel at the fact that their skin was soft like suede. They actually reminded me a lot of my mother's Italian Greyhounds, but without the barking. For someone like me with a host of allergies, they'd make the perfect pet... if only I had room for a giant saltwater tank in my apartment.

After being pried away from the stingrays, we had a chance for some more shark viewing. I was all hyped up and gung ho to spent another 15 minutes marveling at the mammals, but the other guest was less than enthused and quite cold, so she left and the lovely guide had no problem letting me stay floating near the sharks for close to 30 minutes. It was a fantastic and peaceful experience that helped convince me I really needed to get that SCUBA license if I wanted to do more of it. Even though it wasn't exactly what I had imagined, and my then three-year-old was a little freaked out that mommy might get eaten, it was a wonderful way to spend my birthday. And judging by the picture of my kid, it wasn't like she was scarred for life or anything.

Jumping Through Hoops

Actually, not jumping, but that might have actually been easier and far less embarrassing. In the spring of 2010 (shortly after I started on my diet journey in earnest) got a groupon deal for a hula hooping fitness class... in Central Park. It was a great deal and since I had decided to take on new challenges, this one sounded like a great idea. On paper. In my brain I could just magically start hula hooping even though I'd never displayed any aptitude for the hobby before. And in my head I didn't take into account doing it in public, where people could watch. Perhaps I should have invested seven bucks and bought a hoop from Target to try at home before making an idiot out of myself.

But I'm not exactly one to think these things through all that well, so I happily signed up and before you know it I was in the middle of Central Park (right near a very well-trafficked running loop) and given a weighted hoop (taped up with brightly colored electrical tape) and being taught to hula hoop. To say that everyone else caught on more quickly would be an understatement. By 10 minutes into the class most people could do a hoop for at least a few spins around their hips. I couldn't. I spent all of my time spinning it wildly fast and then gyrating like a lunatic until the hoop fell and I had to pick it up.

By the time the very patient instructor started trying to teach the others how to walk and hula at the same time I was out of breath and fairly well exhausted. For a girl who was about 250 lbs. at the time, bending over repeatedly was quite an effort. But, because I'm insanely stubborn like the rest of my family, I stuck with it and then finally he started teaching a skill that didn't involve getting the hoop around my hips. Instead, it involved taking the hoop up and over your head, whipping it around your hand and then taking it behind your back and then back over your head, in one big loop. Now this? This I had a handle on.

All of a sudden, everyone else was struggling and I was a pro. Thank goodness for all that time in high school doing Winter Color Guard, learning how to take a flag and wooden gun up over my head. And the hula hoop was far less of a potential concussion than those metal poles.


The instructor was visibly confused at my ability to somehow do this task, which was tripping everyone else up, and baffled that after 60 minutes I still couldn't manage to hoop for more than six times. But everyone's talented in different ways... and at least being good at some portion of it made me feel slightly less self-concious about looking foolish in front of thousands of people (my friend Jennie, among them). And because I could do the hoop overhead, at least it kept me from passing out from bending over to retrieve my hoop for the entire length of the class.

For the record, though I bought a hoop and occasionally pick it up to give it a whirl.. I'm still awful at it. I've watched youtube videos, practiced and tried changing spinning directions, but to no avail. At least my six-year-old kid is an expert hooper and she gets a lot of use out of all the hoops we have in our house. But I swear, every time she tells me, "Mommy, its so easy!" I start screaming on the inside. But, I tried. And that's the important part... or at least I tell myself that when I see how ridiculous I look in these pictures.

Today's Exercise: Doubled Up

Last week I had this idea that I could do a training session and go straight to my power yoga class. Let's just say that after the insane workout with my trainer's trainer, I was dead. And I had a birthday party to plan. So I didn't make it to yoga. I did go to power yoga with my favorite teacher Adrienne on Sunday, and dragged my brother along, but since the class was packed with a bunch of new people she kind of went easy on us. It's wrong that I was disappointed by that, right?

Anyway, so on to tonight. I decided to do the same thing, and went to my normal trainer's trainer again... and made it until the last minute before feeling so dizzy and nauseous that I wanted to throw up. A mild improvement! Took a 20 minute rest before going to my power yoga class and got my ass kicked by Adrienne, who was back in her regular kick ass form. The trainer mostly had me doing squats, so some of the lovely warrior positions didn't feel exactly what you'd call great, but I totally survived. And I feel slightly badass. Next time, maybe I'm thinking of adding a relaxing swim to the mix... glutton for punishment that I am.

Thankfully, I've got Kelly Clarkson's "What Doesn't Kill You (Stronger)" stuck on repeat to help me through the pain.

Feel the Second Degree Burn

While on my dream vacation in Costa Rica in August 2010, I got it into my head to try as many activities as I could possibly squeeze in. The tour company that I worked with (Adventure Life -- highly recommend them) had planned many excursions, but why not add just add a couple more, right? So after a morning of canyoning (aka rappelling through waterfalls) I asked the front desk asked if they could book me on one of the ATV tours I had seen just down the role. As it was my first real experience with a great concierge desk who would bend over backwards to do anything to make their guests happy, they were delighted and took care of all the details.

I happily took off in a little van to the ATV place, and signed one of those "we're not responsible if you die" waivers that are par for the course for these things. Happily hopped on my very first ATV and realized that maybe I was slightly in over my head. I've never driven anything like that, and am the kind of person who runs into trouble at the kiddie race track, but I paid attention to details and gamely followed after a lovely family from the UK and a handful of other vacationers. We went through a cow farm to see some stunning views of the Arenal volcano. And even though I never quote got the speed of some of the teenagers who recklessly sped through the giants and ditches, I enjoyed myself even when I was getting stuck in knee deep mud. So I felt somewhat confident as we took off down a deserted dirt road towards the Arenal river. I reassured the guide that even though I had some turning troubles, I could handle a very rugged "road". No problemo!


Well, that was until they encouraged everyone to take a whirl through a "puddle". Everyone ahead of me managed to remember the warning about what to do in water, but I was so preoccupied on trying to keep up with the group that I went right through that puddle... leaving my leg next to the engine. Once I went through this two foot puddle and water hit the engine, it turned to steam, which hit my leg and sent billows of smoke up into my helmets mask. At first the smoke overwhelmed me and caused me to panic, before I realized that I had a searing burn on the majority of my left calf. My right leg had a small steam burn, but was apparently quicker to react, so it really didn't suffer much at all.

Once the nice guide fished my ATV out of the water, he assessed that it wasn't a hospital worthy emergency, and told me kindly that the best cure they had for the burn was a nice cool soak in the Arenal river up ahead a mile or so. Given that we were too far from anything resembling a safe place to leave the ATV unattended, and he couldn't leave the whole group with only one guide, there weren't a lot of options. So I put my helmet back on, started up my ATV and cried (a lot) as I drove over a very uneven road that looked like it had been partially washed out.



Trying to put on a brave face so as not to put a damper on the trip for everyone else who had paid to do this trip, so as we pulled up to the river, I wiped away my tears and walked over to the river to soak my legs. It actually did provide a lot of relief, and then the kind guide found his medical kid with some magical burn cream in it, which made was a miracle. The biggest problem I had for the rest of the ride was that the engine was giving off so much heat.

Still, it was tolerable and I managed to get back to the base, play with their parrot, enjoy a lovely dinner (Costa Ricans love to feed you), and enjoyed myself until I got back to my hotel and stepped off the van. Then I broke down crying at the front desk. They so wonderfully helped me to get to my room to get cash, and called a cab to take me to La Farmacia. My cab driver spoke very little English, and I speak mediocre Spanish (at best) and had my handy dandy phrase book. We managed to have actual conversation and I even laughed a few times as he was very funny.



Once at the pharamacy, I had to do a lot of gesturing (showing the pharmacist my blistered and burned leg), but he got the gist of it. While there, I also got some really kick ass sinus drugs... though i'm a little surprised that me pointing at my nose and sniffling didn't land me some coke. Instead, these old school capsules which just rocked. I wish I could get them regularly, because they were infinitely more effective than Aleve.

I rode the 20 minutes back to the hotel with the same nice driver, profusely thanked the front desk clerk, stopped by the hot tub bar for two Imperial beers (which were on the endless two for one happy hour special) and went to my room to take the sinus drugs, slather burn cream on my leg, drink my beers and pass out cold. Self-medicating at its best.

The next morning I was somewhat OK (the right leg was completely fine, mostly equal to a sunburn) and I completed my scheduled activities for the day -- a hanging bridge hike and nighttime ziplining. Sure the giant blisters were gross, but the pharmacist had recommended just leaving it uncovered to breathe, so I did. I might have done my self-medicating ritual that night as well... and then headed back to the airport the day afterwards. The customs officers in Miami were a little freaked out by my limping, (I'm sure they thought I was suffering some awful skin disease) and I told them my saga and they kindly offered me a wheelchair (I declined, I'm made of tougher stuff than that).

It took several weeks for the burn to heal (and let me tell you, Neosporin has nothing on whatever no-name cream I got in Costa Rica) and it left a pretty nasty hamburger sized burn on the back of my calf, which I still have (though right now the discoloring is starting to fade). But the whole thing actually taught me a lot about myself. While I was with a group of people (randomly assigned by the tour company), they were strangers who really didn't want to help out with a girl who had essentially done this to herself. Dealing with an injury on my own (with just the kindness of strangers at the hotel) was a new challenge and in some ways empowering. And not just cancelling everything and sitting in my room the day before we left also made me feel pretty strong. I would have missed out on seeing some really amazing things and pushing myself. It might have been reassuring to have a shoulder to cry on, but it also a friend might have talked me out of going on a several mile hike on an injured leg.

So while I still have the scar, and probably will at least have remnants of it for the rest of my life, that former blistering mess gave me a big boost of confidence, and that's what I see every time I look down at my leg.

Today's Exercise: The 12 Mile Run

According to the half-marathon training that I'm doing (see more on that here), today's run was scheduled to be 12 miles (my longest yet). Does the program from runDisney not care that it falls on the day of my daughter's birthday party? Guess not.

So my brother (who is down here visiting) and I got up extra early and went for a very long run. Nearly 3 hours (I'm slow, remember?), and while there was a lot of walking (since I am still easing back in from my knee injury on Christmas Eve), we totally finished without really pushing it too much. And according to the kind voice on my Nike + app, I clocked my best 10K time (now granted i've only run that far about 5 times... but still! It's something). I was most happy about the fact that I managed to take 10 minutes off my 10 mile time (from Christmas Eve), without even really stretching it. Thinking that the 2:45 far off goal that I have for my 1/2 marathon might not be as out of reach as it seemed a few months ago.

The other great thing about the long run (aside from watching my brother run ahead and do chin ups on any surface and do his little speed drills), was that I didn't really think about the stress of the party. Normally when i'm having people over, I'm panicked about everything being spotless or having everything just perfect. Today I just ran. And if not every detail is perfect, no big deal. There will be Bears built and cupcakes eaten and pizza devoured... everything else is just a bonus and by focusing on my running (and myself) for a few hours, I definitely feel the least stressed I ever have when faced with the prospect of multiple screaming children. Actually, now that i think about it, many small children is WAY more intimidating than running 12 miles.

Today in Exercise: January 5, 2012

I guess technically it was yesterday in exercise, but was busy making goody bags for my daughter's class, as tomorrow is her birthday. So I'm just posting now, and I did just one grueling training session with a trainer at the gym. He's my normal trainer's trainer. And she's always saying that he's tough. She was not exaggerating. I am always gung-ho and am not the kind to beg for a water break, but I honestly thought I was going to pass out at one point. His focus was on shoulders, biceps and triceps, and my favorite drill (also known as the one that nearly left me dead on the gym floor) was one where he gave me hand weights, had me bend over, walk my hands out with the weights (keeping my feet still and hip distance apart), do a push up, walk my hands/weights back in, stand up, do bicep curls while doing a deep squat. 20 times. Yeah. It's the first time in my two months of training that I have not been able to complete something because my body just physically caved at 18. (And yes, I'm sure it has a technical drill, but I'm just going to call it The Killer). I almost went to power yoga afterwards, but I just had too much birthday stuff to do, so next week, I'll give that double whammy combo a whirl.

When Did All My Socks Become Sweat Socks?

As I was getting dressed this morning, I had a random thought while sifting through my sock drawer... the majority of my toasty toe coverings are of the sweat variety. Just a few short years ago that same cluttered drawer of mismatched mayhem was filled with a colorful assortment of novelty socks and a huge amount of dressy black socks for shoes. Now to find those few pairs of dress socks is like finding buried treasure as I've entered the realm of multi-sport chaos and have socks that are for running, socks that are good for hot weather outdoor activities, socks with wicking, socks without wicking, socks that are specifically for hiking, socks that have extra cushions in the toes that I wear while biking. Guess my priorities have shifted (though that doesn't mean I've given up on my fancy shoes, I've just move on from the Mary Jane variety to pretty tall heels and the like)... and it probably also means I need to reorganize this drawer. Stat.

Halfway Through Half Marathon Training

I've never really trained for any physical activity before. Never did any organized sports in high school or college. And marching band didn't exactly have a strict workout regiment. Sure I did a triathlon last fall, but I just came up with my own random plan to do that. I didn't follow a schedule or look for advice on how to do it, just sort of went with it. I know, crazy (and more on that whole thing in another post) but for the half marathon I'm doing at the end of February, I've been seriously following an 18 week plan (just started Week 11) and it's… definitely a unique experience.

When I signed up for this Half Marathon, all I thought about was how I'd be running 13.1 miles on a relatively flat course in warm Florida. It is Disney's Princess Half Marathon (going from Epcot to Cinderella's castle and back) after all. And I mostly started thinking about what I was going to wear (cuteness and tiaras are encouraged). I also just had a goal to complete the race, not to actually set any land speed records, so I thought I'd be totally fine. I didn't think about what the training would actually be like. And that I'd be training during an East Coast winter, and while its been mild on the snow front, it has had some mighty brisk temperatures.

Christmas Eve I was up in Maine and had to do my longest run to date (I've been following the Jeff Galloway plan, and he does a run-walk-run program, so it is actually quite doable) and it was 18 degrees out. One. Eight. (Yes, I realize could have gone on a treadmill, but treadmills give me shin splints and make me feel like I'll die of boredom... especially on longer runs). There were icy spots along the course in Brunswick that my brother likes, but since I had to do 10 miles, this 2.5 mile each way path seemed like the best bet. Just go out and back twice. And not freeze or slip and fall on my ass in the process. Simple!


I did make it, twisted my knee a little in the process and missed a few short training runs in week 10, but have healed up to do my "longer" weekend run. And while my in excellent shape brother was able to briskly walk alongside of me as I ran, my pace on that 10 mile run gave me confidence that I could finish the half marathon well under the 3:30 time limit that this particular race has allotted (well, at least by 15 minutes if there are suddenly appearing hills and the temps drop down to 18 maybe 30 if all goes well). My worst fear about this race has been that I wouldn't finish and get the medal that I've trained so hard for. The idea that the little trucks come around to pick up the stragglers (which I've been joking with my personal ChEARleader that they are driven by Dopey and Goofy) has put a fear really in me.

But along the way I've gained a newfound appreciation for the work that goes into the marathon efforts. Even when you see people walking, they probably pounded the pavement several mornings a week to get to this point. I doubt that most people just wake up and decide to do any lengthy road race. Especially me. And I'm probably the furthest thing from a natural runner that you can find. In high school, I distinctly remember my gym teacher telling me I was the only student he had who could walk a mile faster than she could run one. That's probably still true. I am slightly better now, but my typical13ish minute mile pace isn't exactly going to qualify me for the Olympics. But it might keep Goofy off my tail. And I've still got eight more weeks to train… if I don't freeze before then.

Where the Fun/Pain All Began

My trainer asked me the other day why I was always so upbeat and positive as she was torturing me with yet another series of grueling bicep exercises, and I explained that I used to be a lot fatter, and had changed my life in the past year and a half and had no intention of going back there. I promised to bring her a picture, the one that I keep in my kitchen as a reminder to myself of where I started. I also brought it to my weight loss consultant, and she told me that I looked now like I could do a commercial, with this as my before picture, even though I'm not at my goal weight. Between that and the fact that my email is currently flooded with offers for diets and fitness programs because of the new year, it got me thinking about the fact that it isn't a date on a calendar that makes you want to go to the gym regularly or to stick to a healthy eating plan. It's something bigger. For me, that something bigger really started with this picture.

In this picture from early April 2010, I weighed in at over 250 lbs (scary to admit that in "public"... even to virtual strangers). After my kid I had gone up to about 260, but had lost nearly 40 lbs with the help of a nutritionist, but due to being unhappy and getting divorced and coping with being out on my own for the first time really in my entire life… I had gained it almost entirely back. This trip to the Botanical Gardens in Brooklyn, was one of the first things I did post-splitting up with my husband that was entirely on my own. It seems small, since it was only a trip on a bus and subway, but I'd never been to the park at all... much less alone. The picture was taken by a kind stranger, and I actually thought that I looked very cute that day. But the best part was that once I got out there, walked the gardens, I headed out into Prospect Park and just walked for several hours. Just wandered all around, watching people run, play various sports and enjoy their afternoons. It was eye-opening in a lot of ways, as I'd long been content to let other people make the plans and just follow along with them. Just being outside with no set schedule, wandering with some quiet time to reflect, was fantastic for me.

Going to the park by myself, in an unfamiliar place, gave me the push to book a trip to Costa Rica that I had long wanted to do and had been pondering for a while. Right after this day in Brooklyn, I got my passport (for the first time ever… the only places I'd previously been were Aruba, Mexico and Canada, and at times when you didn't need a passport to travel to them). Yes, it is a leap to go from traveling to a borough 20 miles from my house, to leaving the country on my own, but I had a renewed since of (perhaps misguided) confidence.

But not only did I want to go to Costa Rica, I wanted to go to Costa Rica to trek through the rainforest and ride along a massive zipline. In short, I wanted to have some wild new experiences, but I had to be in better shape to do most of the things I wanted. I joined the new gym that had opened near my house and started taking Zumba classes and walking on the treadmill. And then I got the bright idea to take a kickboxing class. I had received a flyer shortly after I'd moved into my new apartment, offering a cheap trial class with free boxing gloves and it had been stuck to my fridge for months. I was waiting until I was in better shape to try it, but finally just did it. Nearly thought I was going to die/puke during the first session, and felt sympathy for all of those Biggest Loser contestants who had been tortured during their first workouts, but I got quickly got hooked. I even re-learned to jump rope -- something I had loved doing as a kid. It's easy to forget those simple pleasures as you get older.

Before my trip to Costa Rica, I lost about 20 lbs. But really couldn't seem to lose more. And while I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of that trip (even the scary ones when I got a second-degree burn on an ATV ride and had to use my broken Spanish at the pharmacia), some of the hikes really were exhausting to me. I made it, because of my newfound "I can do anything" spirit, but I was for sure the slowest one in the group.

When I came back, I spent all fall challenging myself with more of my outrageous adventures from whitewater rafting to hiking and even snowshoeing, but I didn't really see much of a change on the scale. Apparently, eating a diet of predominantly baby carrots isn't as healthy as one might think. Go figure. It wasn't until I decided that I wanted to live out my dream of scuba diving when things changed for me.

I went to a small dive shop in NJ and signed up for classes and nearly had a breakdown in the dressing room as even the largest women's wetsuits barely fit. And I broke a zipper trying one on. I was so ashamed that I didn't even say anything about the zipper and just I bought the one wetsuit that did fit, and lamented to the owner that I wanted it to be a smaller size. He happened to tell me that his wife had been helping people lose weight for years. I was skeptical, as I'd worked with a nutritionist before and had also tried Atkins, Weight Watchers and a few of the other fads out there. But I left the shop feeling excited about scuba diving, but guilty about the suit. When I got home, I left a very apologetic teary message on the shop answering machine telling the owner that I'd broken the zipper and that I'd be happy to pay for it, but was just too embarrassed to say anything during the store. I got a very understanding phone message back from him, and shortly thereafter got a call from his lovely wife. She's an LA My Way consultant, and was very sweet, and even though the initial cost was out of my budget by a bit, I took the plunge and went along with her.

Since starting with her I've lost about 40 lbs, lost even more than that in inches off my body, gone down about four clothing sizes (from a 20 to a 12) and have really toned up from eating a healthy diet and exercising. Who would have imagined that a person like me who previously lived for French fries and ice cream, would be living happily on a low carb, low salt, low sugar, high protein diet? But it works for my body, without making me feel like I'm missing out. Paired with all of my increasingly ridiculous fitness and adventure quests, I weigh less than I have in well over a decade and am in better shape than I ever have been. My credit card is ridiculously high because I am obsessed living life to the fullest, via traveling adventures and fitness obstacles, but I tell myself that I'm investing in my future... just not in the traditional sense. I regularly do yoga, I've started seeing a personal trainer, have hiked all over the country with my dad and brother and even recently began running. I am most proud of doing my first Sprint Triathlon in September. I'm not the fastest person on the planet, or the skinniest or fittest, but I am doggedly determined to get there eventually. The tortoise won that infamous race eventually, right?

Making the decision to go to Prospect Park to see those cherry blossoms and almost a year later deciding to scuba dive to be the mermaid I'd always wanted to be, were two of the best decisions I've made in the last few years. They seemed so small at the time, practically insignificant in the larger scheme of things, but they really made a major impact on my day-to-day life and my quest to be the best Angel that I can be. My goal is not to be super skinny or hit some unfeasible number on a scale, but instead to be a fit, healthy and fun mom and strong role model to my young daughter for as long as humanly possible.And she's become my strongest cheerleader and motivator on the days when it gets really tough. You try to say no to a bossy 5-year-old (who likes to channel Jillian Michaels) when they are running behind you in the park and tell you to stop and do some jumping jacks before instructing you to keep running even faster. She keeps me smiling and optimistic even as I face challenges with childcare, long-commutes, a busy work schedule, some taxing workouts and my less frequent (but still occasional) desire to eat an entire carton of cookies & cream ice cream.

The pic below is where I'm at now, still a ways to go (and naturally that's taken from my MOST flattering angle… side angle pictures are still my enemy). And while initially reluctant to share my story, I hope that this, and my forthcoming tales of finding adventure in every day life in order to get healthy and challenge myself, may make some other people realize that they can do whatever it is that they put their minds too, be it lose weight or run a marathon or achieve their dream job and be genuinely happy in the skin that they are in.