“You Look a Lot Healthier”

Well, my post-C25K 5K is in the books… and I have to admit that I am shocked.  Aside from the fact that I have this idea in my head that heavier = slower, the hills on the course really don’t help in terms of achieving speed.  And since I’m focusing on building mileage, I haven’t done any speedwork at all.  So it was a very pleasant surprise to shave 71 seconds off my previous 5K time.  And it’s a good thing that this put me in a cheery mood, because of what happened next.

Since it sucked so much last year, I need to do another triathlon.  I’m going to do it with the same team, but I’m not sure yet which tri I’m going to do.  That’s not really the point of this story, though.  The point is that they had a “meet the coaches” kind of thing for people who were interested in possibly doing a triathlon / have never done one before.  I don’t exactly fall into that category, but one of the people who works for the organization told me that I had to come because she wanted to see me… so I went.  She didn’t even show up (she had a good reason, I’m not upset with her, that’s not the point of this story either), but I did see one of the coaches whom I haven’t seen since the summer.

The only sessions I ever attended with this coach were swim clinics.  He didn’t recognize me at first, because it’s always a little disorienting when you see someone in clothes instead of a swimsuit!  Of course, I got there early, so we were just hanging around and chatting about random things.  When I told him that I had fractured my pelvis, his eyes almost popped out of his head, which looked rather comical.  This was followed up with, “You look a lot healthier.”

Now, pretty much everyone knows that in the world of a person with an eating disorder, “You look healthier” = “You look fatter.”  Which, obviously, I do.  I know this.  I am not happy about this.  But if I have to choose between being skinnier and not able to run, and being a few pounds heavier and able to run, the latter wins every time.

The point is that I wasn’t as pissed off about hearing that as I would have expected.  I guess it helped that I had just set a new PR, because it made me feel a little bit like there might have been a reason for me to have gotten as fat as I am.

What did piss me off is that despite my dietitians saying I am doing well, my mom is still constantly harassing me that I look too skinny and blah blah blah.  So I told her that she ought to have a little chat with this coach, since she sees me every day and it’s harder for her to see any differences, but he hasn’t seen me in months so it’s obvious to him.  And she responded that she did see a difference, “but there’s still a lot of room for improvement.”

That pissed me off.  Because the very few times when I expressed how I felt about gaining weight (in a word: disgusted), she brushed it off and told me I was crazy and imagining things.  Now she says that she does see a difference.  So in one of these two instances, she was lying to me.

Not a good thing to do with someone who already has trust issues.  Just saying.

Anyway, I went to the orthopedist this morning, and I guess I can say that my pelvis is officially declared healed.  What is not healed is my terror that something terrible will happen at any given moment, but I guess that will go away with time.  It had better.

He gave me a strength training workout to do — which kind of makes me want to laugh hysterically, because, hello… am I supposed to be able to do that?!  My knees hurt just at the thought of it.  Then again, I suppose the only way to find out is to try…

And oh, hey, my favorite holiday is this week.  (Yes, I know, I have a lot of those.  NOT.)  Joy of joys.  Incidentally, on that holiday last year, I ran the race course of my first 5K… and I had never thought I would be able to do something like that.  Nor did I think I’d fall in love with running, or that it would, ironically, be the thing that “saved” me when so many other things over the years have failed to do that.  Life is weird.

Jamaica, C25K, & Other Random Stuff

Wow, it’s been a while.  I guess I just haven’t been motivated to blog.  There’s only so much whining even I can do… and, believe it or not, it does happen upon occasion that not everything sucks.  But I’m paranoid about actually saying so, since it seems that every time I acknowledge a good thing, it gets snatched away from me.

Brief recap of what’s been going on in my oh-so-exciting life: I went to Jamaica, got certified as an Advanced Open Water diver, finished C25K.  In a nutshell.

This is the view with which I had to contend on the vacation which served to get me away from my cousin-crammed house:

I could live with that every day, no problem.  On my last morning there, I woke up early to get photos of the sunrise.  I was cranky at first, because it wasn’t cooperating, but after I hung around for an hour (sure, I’ll lounge around on the beach for an hour, difficult as that may be), it did pay off.

It was beautiful.  And I might have been slightly less cranky if A) I weren’t about to leave for home, and B) I weren’t so tired!  Diving all day, every day, for three days in a row is strangely exhausting.

Not to mention mentally draining, because for the first time ever, I had massive problems equalizing my ears.  I guess the cold and congestion with which my mom gifted me last month hadn’t gone away completely… but thank goodness, even though it took longer than usual, I did eventually get down there.  Being able to clear my ears was especially important, because I needed a deep dive for my certification (I actually wound up doing two), and if I couldn’t clear my ears at twenty feet… yeah, that’s a problem.


100+ feet, ears still intact.  Phew.  That was close.

I ran home.

Ha, ha, ha.  I actually thought it was highly amusing, but that’s just me.  (Speed = 501 MPH, in case you can’t figure out what you’re seeing there.)  Actually, the fact that I even had a Garmin with me was exciting enough, because it means I was able to run on my vacation!  And get lost.  And encounter goats.  And wonder what possessed me to think I like running in the heat… though I think it’s the abrupt temperature changes that get to me, not the heat itself.

I finished C25K, and my race calendar is filling up.  I am determined to not do too much, too soon — it’s going to take me three months to get from where I am now to running 20 miles a week.  But I forfeited it this year, and I am not letting my own stupidity get between me and the Jerusalem Marathon in 2013.

That was the first time since before my fractures that I ran over four miles.  Those are raindrops, but they may as well have been tears of joy — I am that thrilled.

I’m also terrified that I’m going to fall apart at any given moment without provocation, but that’s another story for another day.

Oh, and I bought a crock pot.  Finally.  I’ve been wanting one for years.


I made oatmeal in it.

Actually, I made oatmeal it in several times, but this is just the only one that actually looks at all appealing — I can’t seem to get the ratio of liquid measurements : cooking time down.

I also finally bit the bullet and switched the pedals on my bike.


I’m terrified that I am going to fall over and break a leg.  See above: fear of falling apart without provocation.

Aaaaand I feel like shutting up now.

Teetering

Earlier this week, I attended my nephew’s bar mitzvah.  I hate such events, because I am a social retard, but since I had to go anyway, I figured I would attempt to make the best of the situation.

Big.  Fat.  Mistake.  (Oh, hey — just like me!)

I had gone to yoga earlier that day, and I had biked there and back, so I was delightfully sore in a good way.  Of course, I still thought I was fat, but not as repulsively huge as I could have… and, not wanting to ruin that, I specifically chose to wear the dress I had made for another nephew’s bar mitzvah, because I had literally just gotten out of IP a week before that, and I weighed more then than I do now, so the fit should not have been a problem.

My mom zipped me up, snagging the zipper, of course, because she always does, and off I toddled on my ridiculously sky-high but awesome-looking and insanely uncomfortable heels.  Because I was wearing these contraptions, I parked my butt on a chair and didn’t move it.  The fact that I just couldn’t bring myself to eat there wasn’t as big of a disaster as it could have been, because I had a feeling that would happen and so I made sure to eat something beforehand.  But it’s still disappointing, because I haven’t had such a hard time with something like that for a while.

And then, the zipper on this dress that I chose specifically because it is the only dress I own for which I thought I was not too fat, broke.  Which meant I had to go home, because even if I do have to wear a wrap thanks to the frigid temperatures in the hall, I am not interested in hanging around like that.  I wasn’t too sad to leave, obviously, but I would have preferred to have had it be under different circumstances.

It was not easy to get out of that blasted dress.  I couldn’t get the stupid zipper more than halfway down, so I had to pull it over my head — quite a feat, since the seamstress originally made the sleeves way too tight.  And then I pulled the zipper down, and back up, and it moved smooth as a dream.  All fixed!  Yeah, right — like I’m ever going to wear that thing again.

You know, zippers break.  I realize this.  However.  In all the years I’ve owned this dress, and in all the times I’ve worn it, it has never happened to me.  Or with any other dress, or article of clothing.  Because I wasn’t this fat all the other times I’ve worn it!!  Words cannot even describe how revolting I find myself.  Never again getting out of pajamas, or my bed, sounds like my idea of heaven.  I am mortified to be seen in public.

Thank goodness for small miracles — the next day was a C25K day, and I’m finally done with those annoying walk intervals.  I needed that run, badly.  Which is why I ran faster than I probably should have, but it was nice to learn that I could do that and not keel over in a pile of agony.

Except that that messed with my mind too (it’s pretty easy to mess with it when I get into such a space) — because if a = I didn’t eat enough yesterday, and b = I had a good run today, in my mind, b is automatically a result of a.

That kind of screws with my “I’m only doing this because I want to run” motivation, you know?

And just to round this out nicely, I am also selfish, self-centered, “not well,” and in need of a psychiatrist.  Thank you, Mother Dearest.  I can always count on you to make me feel better.

Legions of relatives begin descending today.  They will be living in the hotel that is my house for the next two weeks.  Hence my vacation next week… I should have gone away for the duration of their stay, even if I can’t afford it.  My precarious mental status is worth that much.

Eleven Things

I was tagged by Katie to do this survey, so here goes.

Here are the survey rules:

#1: You must post these rules.
#2: Each person must post 11 things about themselves on their blog.
#3: Answer the questions the tagger set for you in their post and create 11 new questions for the people you tag to answer.

Eleven things, huh?… I don’t think I can come up with two interesting things about myself, let alone eleven!!  Which is why I’ve probably mentioned some of these in the past, but I’m too lazy to go back and check.

  1.  English was not my first language.
  2. When I was little, I had Shirley Temple corkscrew curls.  My mom had them cut when I was five.  I looked like a boy.  I had an afro while it was growing back… and I am still traumatized and hate getting my hair cut.
  3. I add salt to nearly everything.  I think it’s genetic; my mom never salts her chicken soup because she knows everyone will add salt without even tasting it!
  4. Paintball shooting fascinates me.  (Less fascinating are the resulting bruises that take weeks to fade.)
  5. When I was younger, my mom used to take my brother and me to the library every Friday so that we could check out books to read over the weekend.  My mom and brother would take two books each.  At the time, there was a ten-book limit per card, so I had to spread out my selections among the three of us.  And yes, I read them all.
  6. Along the same lines, to prove what a geek I am, when I was in the seventh grade my parents punished me by revoking my library privileges.  (I know.  I know!!)
  7. I love wind chimes.  There is a house on one of my running routes that has one out front, and every time I pass by it makes me smile.
  8. I got stitches in my head when I was four — apparently, jumping on beds is not a safe activity.  Who knew?
  9. The first time we had a quince, we all thought it was horrible.  Then I found out it isn’t supposed to be eaten raw.  Oh.  (And thus began the custom of Googling strange produce prior to consumption.)
  10. I am supposedly a “miracle baby.”
  11. I can wiggle my ears.  Which I only learned by accident in trying to teach myself to raise one eyebrow (which I can now do, too).

And now for Katie’s questions for me…

1. What made you start blogging?  I don’t even know… some misguided notion that my life is interesting?!  (I’m kidding.)  It’s really just easier to type than to write in a journal.  Even though I still do the latter, because there are some things I don’t care to splash all over the internet.
2. What’s the craziest (fun crazy, not crazy crazy!) thing you’ve ever done? I don’t do crazy things!  Unless you count diving and parasailing, which I don’t.  I’d love to go skydiving and bungee jumping, though…
3. When was the last time you laughed until it hurt, and why?  Is it really sad that I just don’t remember?  Really, I haven’t got a clue.
4. Are you a morning or evening person?  Morning all the way!  I’m an old lady.  If I’m not in bed by 11.00, I’m useless the next day.  Well, more so than usual.
5. This has been asked before, but I don’t care, it’s interesting – who would you invite to your ideal dinner party and why? Nobody “famous” or anything.  I’d actually just invite my grandparents.  Partly because my maternal grandmother was an awesome cook and I miss her.  And I want to meet my paternal grandfather, since I never did — he died before I was born.
6. What did you want to be when you grow up?  At various times, various things!  The pretty constant one, though, was a writer.  And my mom tells me that I said I wanted to be a librarian, but I have no recollection of that.
7. What do you want to be now? Are you already there or working towards it? I want to get my Dive Master certification and open my own dive shop on a tropical island, but… yeah, I don’t see that happening anytime soon!
8. Order or chaos? Order!!!  Chaos makes me want to scream and cry.
9. Science or art? Art, I suppose, since I am an abysmal failure in the science department.
10. What’s your favourite thing to eat for breakfast? That’s a hard one!… I love too many breakfast foods to choose just one, so I will default to what I had this morning: English muffin cinnamon French toast.


11. Do you find asking questions or answering them easier? Answering, provided they’re not open-ended questions.  (Um, like these?)

And that’s my oh-so-exciting post!  I won’t bother tagging anyone else, since, well, pretty much everyone has already done this.

I Can’t.

There are some days when I manage to get by relatively peacefully in terms of disturbing, distracting thoughts.  Today is not one of those days.

I can ignore it and ignore it and ignore it, but the fact is, I am really unhappy with my body right now.  It makes me feel physically sick to look in a mirror.  If I didn’t have to go to work, I probably would never leave my house, because I am so mortified.  I never really looked that small, and now there is just no way for me to escape the fact that I have become exactly what I spent ten years clawing and kicking and screaming to avoid: I am fat.

I went to yoga yesterday for the first time in years.  I like yoga.  I did enjoy it.  But there was an underlying panic in the back of my mind the entire time because I was wearing leggings, in front of other people, and nobody deserves to be subjected to the horrors that are my thighs.

The worst part of this is that it is all self-inflicted.  Yes, I can “blame” my RDs for “making” me gain weight, but the fact is that nobody can make me do anything.  This is all my own doing, so if I’m looking to cast blame on anyone for it, I should look squarely in the mirror.  Though, as previously mentioned, I’m kind of having issues in that department right now…

The only reason I did any of this is because I want to run again.  And when I say “run,” I don’t mean “C25K,” when I am not even running long enough to stop focusing on the fact that I am carrying a disgusting, rapidly increasing mass.  I mean that I would give my eyeteeth to have been able to do the Jerusalem Marathon this year, or even the half.  I mean that I want to be able to roll out of bed in the morning, run six miles, and have it be my easy run of the week.  I mean that I want to run without being afraid that something will break on me.  I mean that I wish I could at least have the chance of being more than just mediocre at something, and not have it snatched out from right under my nose.

I haven’t gotten any of these things.  Thus far, all I’ve gotten is … fat.  And while I don’t know that I can say I hate myself because I am fat, per se, what I can say is that I hate myself because I knew it was happening, I watched it happening, I am still watching it happen, and I’m not doing a damn thing to stop it.

Needle Day

If I were afraid of needles, today would have been a nightmare.  Instead, it was just inconvenient and a bit annoying.

The first batch of needles was actually quite enjoyable; Thursdays are acupuncture days!  I don’t have eyes in the back of my head, so I don’t know how many needles were stuck in me, but there were a lot.

Then I had to go get my blood drawn because I’m seeing my endocrinologist next week, and it’s easier to get the labs done before I see him so that I don’t need to play phone tag to get the results.  Anyway.

Cute, right?  Well, I thought so, until I had five of them plastered all over me!  First two needles in my left arm, then one in my right arm, then a butterfly in my right hand, then a butterfly in my right arm.  At least two of these sites are now bruised.  Lovely.

Aching arms aside, some random outtakes:

Look, I found ready-made pizza dough I can actually eat!  The remainder of which has been frozen in individual portions, so it might be around for a while…

It doesn’t look so bad here, because it’s already been cooked, but when it was raw the dough kept shrinking in on itself, and I had to pile the sauce, spinach, mushrooms, and nutritional yeast in a precarious stack.  Guess I’m lucky it all worked out okay in the end.

Strawberry extract is an amazing thing.  Spurred by a container of strawberry yogurt with an imminent expiration date, I made pancakes using the yogurt as my liquid.

I really, really like this pancake mix.  I also really liked the addition of strawberry extract, so when I was faced with a container of nearly-dead strawberries a couple of days later, I added some to the almond milk and egg white mixture when I made French toast.

Success.

I stumbled across the new cappuccino Larabar today, and even though I don’t like coffee, I had to try it. It wasn’t so bad… considering I don’t like coffee! I still prefer the chocolate, though.  But what really irritated me is that I also stumbled across these über bars, which I cannot have, thanks to the dairy designation.  There is no dairy in them, so this is just stupid, and it makes me angry.  I can’t have Pure bars anymore, either, thanks to that, and I miss them.  (Same problem with Luna bars, and Clif bars, and … well, pretty much every bar out there.)

Well.  That was a random tangent.  But since I mentioned a new product, I can tell you about what happened when I used a product that is no longer new, but which I needed to finish: Near East roasted red pepper and basil quinoa blend.  I sautéed some rainbow chard, plopped the quinoa blend on top of it, and called it a lunch.

This could have been eaten cold, and since I burn my mouth every time I eat something hot, I should just stay away from hot food, but in addition to my own refrigerator, I now have my own microwave.  All I need is a shower and a stove, and I can move in to my office.  Not that I want to do that…

Anyway, I have the microwave, so I had to use it.  Except that Little Miss Genius here neglected to turn off the space heater which turns my frigid office into a steam room, and so after a minute, I found myself in eerie quiet — I tripped a fuse, apparently.  My phone and the overhead lights still worked, but the refrigerator, microwave, lamp, heater, and computer all went out.  Thankfully, the building manager was in at the time and he unlocked the fuse box for me, but I now know that it is stupid to run both the heater and the microwave at once.  Which should have occurred to me at the outset, but I am stupid.

So I will now go to sulk over my sore throat… true to winter form, my mom has a cold and she is generously sharing it with me.  I hope this is all I am going to get.

Apexes and Nadirs

Perhaps that is a bit overdramatic a title… but it does justice to the current state of affairs in these parts.  Said affairs will just flow more smoothly in the re-telling if I just do it chronologically, so I am backing up to Thursday night, when I was debating whether to ride my bike to work on Friday.  I don’t know why this is, but Fridays are my “ride to work” days.  Ergo, I was really annoyed that the weather forecast was being so bipolar: it was going to rain or it wasn’t going to rain, it was going to be windy or it wasn’t going to be windy… I mean, I know I’m indecisive, but the weather isn’t supposed to be that way!

In any event, I woke up Friday morning and checked the weather before heading out on my C25K “run”… supposedly, there were wind gusts of 52 MPH.  I’ve ridden in 40+ MPH winds, and it wasn’t fun, so I decided that 50 MPH winds were my cutoff point, and I wouldn’t ride.

Having made this decision, I started second-guessing it during the first half of my “run,” because it did not feel windy at all.  Then I got to my turn-around point and … oh.  I’m just glad the way home was downhill, because running into that wind and going uphill at the same time would not have been much fun.

Since I wasn’t going to have my bike with me, I decided to stop by the gym on my way to work for some strength training (doctors’ orders, after all), so I was rushing about like a crazy person.  But guess what I discovered in the midst of this frenzy?

I got my period back.

It’s a little insane how excited I was to find this out — I don’t think I even felt that way when I was thirteen!  I’ve since come to my senses and acknowledged that none of this is really fun at all, just the way I remembered, but still.

By then I was really rushing, which explains why my pancakes burned.

My whey protein expires on January 17, though, so I had to finish it.  When I am forced to pay nearly $50 a tub, not a speck of it will go to waste!  It is because of this that I discovered something I never thought I would like, but in fact do:

Millet puffs, Fiber One, blackberries, and almond milk mixed with protein powder.  My whey powder is unflavored, as is my almond milk, so I have no idea why the addition of one should make the other taste better, but who said everything has to make sense?

Anyway, off to work, which was oh-so-exciting as usual, and during which I learned via Facebook that my cousin got caught in the hail on her bike.  Made me glad that I had opted out.  Then back home again — where I ate one of the best kabocha squashes I have ever had.

The sticker on this squash actually said “abobora,” and I got all excited because I’ve never had that before, even though it looks just like a kabocha squash.  Yeah.  Turns out it just means “Japanese pumpkin,” AKA, “kabocha.”

<<insert weekend in which I did nothing but read, eat and sleep>>

Come Saturday night, I decided to try tackling my latest assignment for my photography course.  It is giving me an endless amount of grief — I live in a house, not a photo studio, and lighting conditions are less than optimal!  I ended up having to ask someone to hold the light for me while I put the camera on self-timer and dashed over to hold up a reflector board.  It did turn out in the end, but I will need to re-take them because I used a textured background, which was a mistake.  Oh, well.  At least I finally found floodlight sockets with clamps.  I’ve only been looking for that for two years!

Then, this morning, I opted to brave the elements to try and get some of the outside shots for this assignment.  Yes, it was 17° outside, with a -7° windchill, but what better conditions to try out my newly-acquired Bar Mitts?

I realize that this looks ridiculous.  However, when it comes to preventing death by frostbite, I don’t really care about such things.

Anyway, as it turns out, once you remove your hands from them to take photos, you’re screwed.  By the time I got home, my hands were so cold that I had to sit on them to get any feeling back at all, and they were still throbbing for hours.  And after all this, I don’t think I’ll even be able to use the photos I got!

I also think my chain is messed up, unless I did such a great job of lubing it last night that I just can’t hear it when I shift gears.  Uh huh.

So, to make a long story short, I am incredibly frustrated with this photo assignment, am thrilled that I finally got my period even though I still can’t run the way I want to, and I am generally grumpy because, well, I always am?  Or because I freaking hate winter and I want to move to Aruba and open my own dive shop.

Which brings me to the lowest nadir of all: I should not have been freezing my fat butt off this morning.  I should have been running the Bermuda Half Marathon.  Instead, I just gave them the money so that I should have the privilege of sitting around and hating myself for not being able to do it.

Life is, indeed, sometimes  a beautiful thing.