No Ifs, Ands, Or...

It's time for another edition of Take It and Run Thursday. This week's theme is Inspiration. There are so many things that inspire me to run, but today, I want to talk about a very special inspiration, one that is behind me every step of the way.

I am talking, of course, about my butt.

My butt and I have had a tumultuous relationship over the years. When it really began to come into its own, I was a teenager. What had been a non-entity when I was a kid suddenly became very curvy, very bubbly. Not even Sir Mix-A-Lot could keep me from feeling a tad self-consious about it, and in retrospect, what a complete waste of anxiety. I mean, please. I was a teenager, and I was running about ten miles a day. I had no idea how fabulous I really looked. I can't believe I bothered wearing a pair of running shorts over my tights, when really, I should have worn a bikini every single day to show off how amazing I looked. Youth, as they say, is wasted on the young.

My butt and I went off to college, and although I'd get in the occasional run, I also discovered the joys of bourbon, with its accompanying joy of 3 for $1 chili cheese dogs from Stop-In, preferably eaten at 2:00 in the morning. This same trend continued for years after college.

The result? My butt grew bigger and more bubbly, though my waist stayed relatively small. Buying pants became one of the most traumatic things I had to do; it was impossible to find anything that fit right. Pants that fit in the waist were impossible to get over my butt, and pants that fit my butt left such a huge gap in the small of my back that I could have just skipped carrying a purse and put all of my gear back there. And skirts? Forget it. A skirt that was an attractive knee-length in the front was a micro mini in the back once the fabric had made its way around the countours of my heiney.

Then, I got pregnant... and huge. I tried not to look at the scale when I went to the doctor's office, because really, that was not information I was interested in learning. I do wish that the nurses would be a bit more considerate when adjusting that scale. They should really start with the weight at, like, 500 pounds, and then adjust it downward because you are such a delicate little thing, rather than beginning at 100 pounds and knocking that little lever evermore to the right. But I do know that towards the end, Jack and I were over 200 pounds. I also know that not all of that weight was the baby.

At one point during my pregnancy, I got out of the shower and made the mistake of looking in the mirror. I screamed, then found Steve and said, "There are purple stripes on my ass! How long has this been going on?" Steve, both diplomatic and smart, said that he hadn't wanted to tell me, because there was nothing I could do about it. I shrugged it off and ate a ham sandwich the size of Texas.

After Jack was born, the purple stripes faded to a less livid hue, and the butt started to shrink back down. I still had problems finding pants that fit, but a combination of being too busy to eat and lugging around my giant economy-sized baby got me to the point where I had a pair of jeans that I absolutely loved. They were dark denim, boot cut, and made me feel so much cooler and more attractive.

Still, my butt and I were not peacefully co-existing; I couldn't wear those jeans every day, much as I would have liked to. So, I took stronger action. I started Weight Watchers, a program that I loved because it seemed so sustainable. It wasn't that I couldn't eat cookies any more; I had to see cookies in context with the rest of my diet and find the right place for them. More importantly, I started running more.

My body transformed. Not quite to my teenaged self - that ship has definitely sailed - but into something newer and stronger. Before long, pants started to fit me again. I tried on a pair of jeans, giddy at the fact that I was even considering a size 8. I stepped out of the dressing room and asked Steve, "Do these look good? They're tighter than I'm used to." Steve looked at me, his eyes widened, and he whispered, "Get them." I did, and when I wore those jeans the first time three people asked me if I'd lost weight. I immediately went back to the store and bought three more pairs. I still have that dark denim boot cut pair that I loved so much, but I keep them for shovelling show since I can wear them comfortably over two pairs of long underwear.

Since I started running seriously again, my butt and I get along just fine. It's no longer something I have to work around when I'm getting dressed. I can even wear skirts. I've chosen to think of those once purple stripes as racing stripes, and of my butt not as something to run away from, but as a muscle that keeps me moving - both literally and figuratively.

Vacation from the Vacation

Steve, Jack, and I took a road trip last weekend to Allentown to visit Steve's parents, Bill and Diane. By the time it was over, I think we were all completely worn out. Time for the proverbial vacation from the vacation.

The drive there was a lot of work. Jack really never got the message that little kids love the car and usually fall asleep. Instead, I sat in the backseat with him and did my best to entertain him for the four hour drive. We sang songs, played with Roary, and looked for cows out the window. Then, Jack was no longer amused by that, and I was honestly too worn out to do anything more, so it was time to bust out the heavenly portable DVD player. Jack and I watched a Sesame Street alphabet DVD (featuring Stephen Colbert!), then The Lion King. We didn't get to town until Jack's bedtime, but despite that, Steve's parents thought we should all go out to dinner.

Let's think about that for a minute, shall we? Behold, the potential pitfalls:
• Jack is a two-year old.
• It was bedtime.
• Jack had just been cooped up in a car for four hours.
• Jack's behavior at restaurants is a roll of the dice.

Steve and I remembered our important resolution, which is I am in charge and I know what I'm doing. We told them that we most certainly would not be going out to eat, and asked them to pick up some sandwiches for us.

The next day was filled with similar challenges. The B&D had planned for us to go out for breakfast and for Diane's daughter and her family to come over for dinner, but didn't have anything else on the agenda. Jack tends to get bored and destructive when faced with an activity-free day at our house, despite the fact that it's filled with toys. The B&D's house is not only not filled with toys, but it is instead filled with breakable ceramic objects. And not just any breakable ceramic objects, but ones shaped appealingly like Mickey Mouse. And, bonus, Jack refused to take a nap. Steve and I worked our butts off trying to keep him entertained so he wouldn't have a gigantic tantrum and start chucking Mickeys at the wall.

The other kids arrived, thank Yoda. The littler ones had fun playing with Jack and immediately opened the drawer in the coffee table Jack had been playing around all day, revealing it to be full of crayons and coloring books. Don't you think that maybe that was some information that I could have used?

Once the visit was over, it was time for another long car ride (this one at least broken up by a visit to Boyd's Bear Country). At home, it became clear that Jack was pretty stressed out about the whole thing. He did not want Steve and me to be out of his sight, apparently worried we'd leave him. Jack and I were watching Dora (the TV was my friend), and Steve went outside to get a ladder. Jack completely flipped out, crying, "Daddy! Daddy!" and "Jack coming! He coming!" We had to reassure him several times that no one was leaving Jack anywhere and that we are a team -- Mommy, Daddy, Jack, and Roary, and that we stick together. Even still, he was incredibly touching and prone to tantrums at the drop of a hat.

I am completely worn out and somehow managed to gain three pounds over the weekend. I need a nap.

Feeling Good

I promise not to post too obsessively about this. Really.

I've been doing Weight Watchers for 6 weeks now and have lost more than 10 pounds. More importantly, I feel really healthy. I'm eating tons of fresh fruits and vegetables and am finally drinking enough water. I've also found that, thanks to some really great recipes, I am eating better food and am enjoying it more than before I decided to lose weight. How amazing is it that I can eat things like bacon cheeseburgers and onion rings and still lose weight? Now granted, they were turkey burgers with turkey bacon and a moderate amount of cheese, and the onion rings were baked, but they tasted damned good.

Now that I'm paying closer attention to what I'm eating, I'm horrified at the calorie and fat content of some of the food I was eating before. Those cinnamon scones from Starbucks? Holy Yoda! One scone was well over 2/3 of the calories I eat now in an entire day. It's not like I thought they were healthy before, but I just had no idea how bad they were. With portion sizes so out of control, it's really no wonder that so many Americans are obese.

Knowing how good I feel and how well I'm treating my body, even after I finish losing weight, I can't imagine going back to the diet I had before. Things have changed in a big way, and I'm proud of it.

Even better, I've rediscovered my old friend running. I have several 30 minute running playlists on my iPod now, so the time goes fast and my pace is much better than it was before. Going for a half hour run is a guilt-free way to spend some time by myself every night, something that I think I really needed.

I'm about three pounds away from my goal weight, so I'm inspired to find my next big goal. Next year, I am going to run the Quad Cities Marathon. Running a marathon has long been one of my life goals, and what better place to do it than in my hometown, the place where I learned to love running in the first place? Plus, as my brother pointed out, there is probably no better food in the universe than a post-marathon shake from Whitey's. I'll start training in April.

It's official

Looks like Jack has selected a special buddy: Elmo. Little guy enjoys grabbing Elmo by the foot and slinging him over the shoulder. He wants to bring Elmo in the car with him, then sobs when he has to say goodbye to him to go to school, kind of like Elmo is about to leave to fight the Nazis. And on Monday morning, Steve and I went to wake Jack up and discovered him asleep, holding Elmo's hand, and rubbing it against his nose in his sleep. It was just about the cutest thing ever.

I had a really nice night with the boys last night. We went to Glory Days. Jack spent part of dinner scribbling on his placemat, just like a real grown-up kid. The rest he spent stealing fries off of my plate. Just as well, as the Jack Steals My Food Diet is sure to help me lose a few pounds.

Jack and I are also working hard at having him hold my hand instead of my carrying him when we're going to and from the car. I give him tons of positive feedback for doing it, and he seems to really like being able to walk around.