Clean eating is for the birds...

I've had about enough of this clean eating stuff.  I want a burrito or a sandwich or a piece of cake.  I don't want to deprive myself of gluten or dairy or large amounts of sugar anymore.  I'm eight months into this challenge and I am about to go nutty!  I am sick and tired of eating the same thing over and over and over again.  Variety is the spice of life, right? I know I am nearing the end of this challenge, but I cannot see the finish line.  There is a giant Krispy Kreme doughnut in the way.  I'm feeling defeated... and very hungry.  

Brunswick, Georgia

Let me paint a picture for you.  There is a small town in Georgia where magnolia and oak trees line the streets in front of neatly kept houses. Where springtime has set in, causing an explosion of pink, purple, and white flowers.  Where people drink sweet tea and wave to their neighbors whether they know them or not.  Where young people call their elders ma'am and sir, and it is not taken as an insult.  Where strangers wait a few minutes to hold the door open for you, because it's the nice thing to do. Where the ocean breeze feels cool against your skin on a warm spring day. Where Terry and I chose to live and settle and raise our family.  Where I felt safe, until Thursday.

Thursday morning started out like a normal day.  It was a cool morning; cool enough to require Terry to go outside early to start his car and let it warm up.  When he came back inside, he looked concerned.  There was something strange in the front yard.  I followed him back outside to see what it was.  Low and behold, it was our mailbox.  Someone had completely run it over, smashing it into pieces.  "Great," I thought, "Another thing to add to my to do list."

For some reason our smashed mailbox made me feel uneasy.  I was already feeling uneasy that morning, as I'd decided to take Brady to a MOPS group for the first time.  MOPS is different from the other groups Brady and I attend.  With MOPS, you leave your child in the church nursery and hang out with the other moms in a different part of the church.  I don't leave Brady with people, with anyone really.  My husband affectionately refers to me as a helicopter mom.  The thought terrified me, but everyone is always telling me I have to get over my fears.  "It's good for him," they say.

I left the house earlier than I had planned, so I could drive through Starbucks and get a cup of coffee.  As I left Starbucks and headed downtown, the uneasy feeling overwhelmed me.  I wanted to turn around and head to Lowe's to buy a new mailbox.  "I should use this time more wisely," I thought.  I pushed those thoughts out of my mind, telling myself that going to MOPS was a good thing.  Brady needed to meet other kids and I needed to meet other moms.  As I got closer, I called my friend to tell her she'd be proud of me for taking Brady to the group.  I also thought the phone call would distract me and calm me down.  It did distract me.  My friend was crying, sobbing actually.  I struggled to understand her words. I parked on the street right in front of the church, sat in the car sipping my coffee, and tried to console my friend.

Brady has never been a fan of his car seat; he'd rather be running around. Halfway through my conversation, I realized I wasn't going to be able to sit in the car and talk to my friend.  I knew I couldn't hang up, so I was going to have to take Brady out of the car and let him roam around.  It was a little after 9:00 am, and MOPS didn't start until 9:30.  While talking to my friend, I took Brady out of his car seat, grabbed my purse and his diaper bag, and set them all down on the sidewalk.  I had my back to the church, a phone up to my ear, and my eyes on my sweet baby running between two magnolia trees.  I was distracted.

A little after 9:15 am, one block behind where I stood watching Brady play, two evil, cowardly teenage boys attempted to rob a woman pushing her one-year-old baby in a stroller.  When she told them she had no money, the older of the two boys shot her in both the ear and leg.  As if that wasn't bad enough, he pushed her out of the way, walked around the stroller, and shot her sleeping baby in the head.  Her baby died right there on the sidewalk.

One block behind me.  One block from where my angel ran playing between two trees.  One block from where my Coach purse and Vera Bradley diaper bag sat on the sidewalk unattended.  One block from where a distracted mother was on the phone, making her the perfect target.  I never heard the gunshots, I was distracted.  I heard the sirens.  "I must be near a fire station," I thought. Had they walked one block further, they would have come into contact with me.  I never would've seen them coming.  My life never would've been the same.  I didn't know anything was wrong until I saw uniformed officers walking up and down the street with shotguns.  "Strange," I thought as I hung up the phone and walked into the church.

Although I don't consider myself to be weepy or dramatic, I am taking this very hard. You have to understand, I am a trained law enforcement officer. My husband is a trained law enforcement officer who trains other law enforcement officers for a living.  I know better than to be distracted like that.  I knew I was going into downtown Brunswick.  I knew it had a reputation for being a little unsafe.  I was uneasy as I drove downtown, but I didn't listen to my instincts.  "It's 9:00 in the morning, I'm going to a church, it's good socialization for Brady."  Those were all of the excuses running through my brain.  I'd become complacent because I live in a small town.  This isn't LA or DC, two places I've lived in the past.  This is Brunswick, Georgia -- it's safe.  Sadly, it turns out, nowhere is safe anymore.    

This story is not about me.  It is about the woman who so tragically lost her child.  A woman who was running a simple errand on a beautiful spring morning with her son.  A woman who's past may be checkered, but who's future will never be the same.  Cherish every moment with your children and your family.  In a split second, they could be gone forever.

It's that time again...

Another month bites the dust!  It is time for my eight months down, four months to go check-in.  This month flew by.  We had a slew of visitors, events, and busy days, so this check-in snuck up on me.

I'm going to come right out and admit that one event threw me off track this month.  My husband and I went out on our first real date in almost 15 months.  It was an early anniversary present to ourselves.  We went to dinner at the Cheesecake Factory and then to a concert.  We attempted to behave like normal people, who weren't insanely worried about the sweet boy we left at home in the capable hands of a good friend of ours.  I only text messaged her 100 times that night.  That's normal right?  It's a good thing that she's keenly aware of how neurotic I am when it comes to my boy, and in general.  Now it's time for the admission... I ate bread and cheesecake at dinner.  The bread was divine.  I could have eaten every last morsel of it, although I limited myself to three teensy, tiny little pieces.  The cheesecake, however, wasn't very good.  I mean it tasted good, but it made me feel sick.  I actually stopped eating it after a few bites.  This reconfirmed that my stomach has serious issues with dairy.  It was a good thing I took lactose pills prior to ingesting the cheesecake; otherwise, the concert wouldn't have been pleasant for anyone.  I am happy to report that the entree I ordered was 100% in line with my flab to fab rules.  It's the small victories in life, isn't it?

It looks divine, doesn't it?!

As far as my physical training program is concerned, I have added strength training back in.  I am now snatching and doing back squats once a week, along with an interval based workout and a long cardio / metabolic conditioning workout.  So far, I really like it.  The workouts push me, but I still feel good.  My lower back isn't giving me trouble yet either, which I am super happy about.  I am hoping to stick with this programming through mid-May.  We'll see if that happens.

My stats for this month are as follows:

I am still 11 pounds under my pre-pregnancy weight and 16 pounds less than I was when I started this challenge.  I didn't see additional weight loss this month, but I am fine with that.  Since I added strength training back in, I didn't think I would see any weight loss.  I can tell that I am losing body fat though, as my clothes are still getting looser.  

I did fall off track this month, but I predicted that would happen in a previous post.  I am not going to beat myself up over it.  I am just going to jump back on the wagon and move on.  No sense in having a pity party. It's not like a meteor struck me down once I was done eating my treats. 

Training for what?

My husband often asks me why I am training.  It's a great question.  Why am I working out?  The only honest answers I can come up with are I workout for health and aesthetics.  Lately, I really couldn't care less if I workout, let alone if I eat well.  I am not sure why I have such an apathetic attitude about the whole thing.  I think I am just stuck in a stupid rut. Part of me just wants to be like the rest of the population, who eats what they want and doesn't fret about squeezing workouts into their day.  I long to be normal.  Let's be honest, I am about as far from normal as they come. All I know is working out for health and aesthetics is not fulfilling to me. Don't get me wrong, they are great reasons.  I just need to find other reasons.  I just wish I knew what they were...

Mochas and zebra cakes...

I don't know what's gotten into me lately, but I want to hurl my nutrition program out the window and survive on mochas and zebra cakes.  My sugar / carb cravings have been insane lately, and I don't know what is fueling them.  Perhaps, it's just my body being mad that I have deprived it of these delectable treats for so long.  Or maybe it's the fact that every time I go out to dinner with my girlfriends they eat bread and dessert right in front of me (the nerve)!  Or maybe I'm just a weak crybaby.  Either way, I can see myself purposefully jumping off of the wagon and letting it run me over.  It's fine, really.  Don't try to convince me otherwise.  Just stay tuned for a post where I whine about falling off the wagon and tell you how horrible I feel.  I'm just pre-warning you.  Carry on!  

Doesn't this look delicious?!

 

Easing my way back in...

Remember how I said I was going to ease my way back in to lifting weights?  Apparently, I am unfamiliar with what the phrase "easing my way back in" actually means.  My first day back in the weight room, I completed 40 snatch to overhead squats with a 15 kilo bar (33 pounds), and 26 back squats with various weights ranging from 45 to 75 pounds. Just in case you were wondering, that is a total of 66 weighted squats. Hmmmmm... I'm not a doctor, but that could explain why my legs are so sore.  Sometimes I wonder where I put my brain.

Muscle definition or lack thereof...

Lately I've been super disappointed with my lack of muscle definition.  I am seven months into this challenge, and I really thought I'd have some rock hard muscles by this point.  Unfortunately, I don't.  I suppose this could be attributed to my utter lack of weight training.  If you recall, towards the end of last year, I kept having issues with my lower back.  I decided that I would lay off the weight training and pick it back up at the beginning of 2013.  The problem -- I've found -- is that it's March of 2013, and I still haven't picked up a single barbell.  Hmmmm... I suppose I thought those muscles would just materialize.  Too bad it's not that easy.

I need to keep this in mind!

I have decided to run another 5K in May with my sister and my mom.  I need to train for this run, as I would like to attempt another PR. Hopefully, this one will occur sans side stitch.  Say that five times fast.  Hard right?! Don't be embarrassed to admit you tried it.  I also need to slowly pick weight training back up.

Here's the weekly plan:  I am going to complete a "long" workout on day one.  Long for me is greater than 20 minutes.  Day two is going to consist of interval work.  Hopefully, this will help me to decrease my mile split times.  Finally, day three is going to involve working on my snatch and back squat.  I am going to begin these lifts with low weights, and try to work my way back up to where I was at the end of last year.  I am going to mix and mingle these throughout the week, meaning that I may do a "long" workout on day three and a short workout on day one.  It's anarchy, I know.

Here goes nothing!