Well, that was hard

I just got back from my long run for the week. 10 miles. At 2:30-ish. After only drinking coffee and maybe half a glass of water all day. After eating only my egg white breakfast and a string cheese. I’ll never do that again. My pace line looks like most people’s bracket scores after Louisville blew it. I was 10 seconds per mile slower than last week. Bleh.

In happier news, I’m packing for my DC trip tonight. And later I’m planning on a full recap of my two days as a single mom of two kids. Yikes.


Is that a FOUR I see? (or, where you see how messed up my brain is)

I’ve never owned a scale. Ever. Until about a month ago. I’d been kicking around the idea of buying a cheap one just to have around for ‘weighing the baby’ but never could commit to it. I like knowing my weight, but I don’t like the mental stress of seeing a number go up when I think it shouldn’t, or the manipulation of my emotions when it goes down. But one day Jesse came home with one. Today I discovered another reason to really not have one.

I’ve been watching that number drop and drop by tiny increments. Two days last week it read 150.0. And I immediately began thinking about what I needed to do to get it under that number. It’s such a round number. If I were weighing at the gym, I would only have to move the big weight to 100! I haven’t weighed less than 150 in YEARS! If I can get under 150, then surely I can get under 145, and then it’s only FIVE MORE POUNDS to 140! So I better skip breakfast, and maybe I can sneak in another mile before my hip hurts, and definitely do NOT eat a snack tonight. And remember when I wore a size 6 jeans? I was so hot and I weighed like 145 then!

Yes. This is where I went. To the land of “obsessed with the number.”

This is probably my biggest personal struggle. I know I have body image issues. I don’t think I’m alone in that. But I do spend far too much time thinking about how I look and what I eat. I’m not anorexic by any means and my fully-established hatred of throwing up prevents me from being bulimic, but there is something not-quite-right upstairs when it comes to my weight and how I perceive my body. My rational brain knows that at 5′ 10″, I’m completely healthy. My rational brain knows that when my clothes fit, it’s all good in the hood. My rational brain knows that I’m running well because I’m at a good weight and eating well. My rational brain knows that making these sorts of strides five months after giving birth (and eleven months after pelvic rest started) is sort of impressive.

So why doesn’t my emotional brain come along for the ride? Why does my emotional brain think I need to weigh what I did in college? Why does my emotional brain still want to cover up my belly when my husband sees me naked? Why does my emotional brain try to convince my rational brain that it’s not enough until that skin hanging down when I do planks and pushups is gone? Why does my emotional brain think it’s okay to say “ugh, I’m still so flabby!” in front of my daughters, subtly teaching them that their self-worth and self-love is somehow wrapped up in their physical appearance? Why does my emotional brain get such a thrill at seeing that 149.6 this morning?

I suppose the good news is that my rational brain is working. Sometimes I eat jello and I don’t worry about it. Sometimes I look at myself in the mirror and I see change. Maybe my emotional brain will never shut up. Maybe I don’t need it to…I’d just like to be able to take a day off from running or from eating well and not be afraid of what might happen.

How did I not know

that this….

this little piece of foam would be so so good to me? I guess I never ran enough miles to need one, but today, I need one. And I don’t feel old anymore.

Ahhh….spring break

Here’s me…reporting live from the first night of break. The one from my “part-time job.” Did you happen to catch that snippet on (shockingly) Fox News? Teachers have part-time jobs.

I wish someone would remind me of that this week when I’m on break, but I’m grading essays. Or when I give up my comp day (the one I stayed at school late two nights to earn) to go on a retreat with the superintendent’s advisory board for free. Or when I was at school until 4:30 today meeting with parents instead of at my own kid’s dance class. Or tomorrow (you know…SATURDAY?) when I’m working all day (for free) at a track meet. Or maybe remind me of it this summer when I spend a total of three weeks traveling and working on school-related stuff.

On Tuesday morning I remarked to my husband that how I wished I could work a job where I could wake up at 7, go for a run, come back, have coffee, get ready for the day and then go to work to be there at 9. I suppose being at work at 7 until 4 or 5 or 6 or sometimes 10 just can’t compete with that 9 to 5 gig. The one where people get to leave their work at work. Where people get to enjoy their mornings and sometimes even take their kids to school. Where people can work for bonuses (what are those?!?!). Where people can put what they want on their facebook page. 🙂

My official San Diego recap

I flew to San Diego on a Wednesday. I went straight to the conference hotel. I went to every workshop, every meal (even the ones they didn’t feed me – helllloooo? lunch would be nice!), every event. I didn’t leave the grounds. I stayed in my room peacefully watching the 19″ tube TV when I wasn’t working. I had no fun. All I did was learn. Then I flew home. The End.

That’s the official story. Apparently, it is in bad taste to have gone out to eat (ON MY OWN DIME) during these times of budget crisis. Apparently, it is in bad taste to have left the hotel room (THAT I PAID FOR) when I wasn’t in workshops. And apparently, it is in bad taste to post pictures about it.

I get it. The district is broke. The last thing they need to deal with is teachers who go to conferences but spend all their time not at the conference while on the district’s dime. Here’s the thing, though: I paid for most of this trip (had some grant money). I attended all the workshops. They didn’t feed us every time; to be honest, when they did, it looked like crap, so we ate out a lot. At night, when there was nothing going on, we explored San Diego. We paid for the car to do so. I understand that the majority of “the public” cannot grasp that a teacher would spend almost $1000 out of her own pocket to become a better teacher and that if for some reason, photos became “exposed” it would look bad.

So I’m not posting pictures here. I’m not officially telling you that I had the best two desserts and best pizza OF MY LIFE on this trip. I’m not officially telling you that I enjoyed my toes in the Pacific sand more than I enjoyed general session number one. I’m not officially telling you that it’s a crime to charge that much for a room that has: peeling wallpaper, no fan in the bathroom, windows that do not close, and quilted bedspreads. I’m not officially telling you that I have some of the best friends in the world. (I am, however, officially telling you that I have THE most supportive husband ever. EVER. Do not try to compete – you will lose.)

I went. I learned. I came home. The End.

Hello from San Diego!

I’m here for a leadership conference…I am busy and tired and overfull. But I’m also running every day and meeting new people and hearing new ideas.

But right now, in the Cyber Cafe, I’m inhaling insane amounts of diesel fumes through this window so I’m leaving.

I’ll be back, though. In the meantime, look for pics facebook. Of food. Seriously….food. And bare feet at the cold nighttime beach.