Oh, Charleston: An Actual Conversation

I stopped by my local supermarket today after work to pick up a couple of things, and brought one of my 10,000 cloth grocery bags along. I purchased the following: apples, oranges, cereal, lettuce, cottage cheese, pistachios and a bottle of wine.

After standing on line for at least 10 minutes, I unload my purchases on the conveyor belt thing and place the cloth bag on top. This is the universal sign for "put my stuff in this bag, please."

K: Hello!
Cantankerous Cashier: Hi.
K: How are you?
CC: I've been a lot better.
K: *awkward silence*
CC: Is this your bag?
K: Yes, it is.
CC: Are you planning on putting your stuff in it?
K: Uh -- yeah, I can put everything in there when you're finished.

So I run my debit card through and walk to the end of the still-running belt thingy, where she had tossed my bag along with my groceries. She stands there and watches me bag my purchases before she starts checking anyone else out, and then she hands my receipt to the next woman in line.

At Least Five Hours

Brad is a cyclist, and he's probably the fittest person I know. But when we met, over 11 years ago, he wasn't. I mean, he was always in reasonable shape, but he was not the muscley-legged, cardiovascular anomaly that he is now. In the past 6 years or so, his body has completely changed shape.

I want that.

I have recently discovered that I have a rather high body fat percentage, even though I'm technically only about 1-2 pounds overweight. In discussing this last night (my desire to change my body shape dramatically), Brad suggested I up my time spent working out to at least five hours a week for now. And that, as I get fitter, I should increase that time. Since I have begun to work out in the mornings during the workweek, I have a limited amount of time that I can spend at the gym and still make it to work on time. So my plan is to get three hours of cardio in on the weekends; at least an hour and a half both Saturday and Sunday.

This Saturday, I hiked at our beloved KSF for an hour and a half, and yesterday I spent the same amount of time on various cardio machines at the gym -- treadmill, elliptical, stairmaster. I nearly fell asleep during the Vikings game last night and, walking up stairs is a bit of a struggle. But Monday is my rest day, so hopefully I'll bounce back by 545 tomorrow morning. I have a date with my favorite treadmill.

Back on the Wagon

After a few days of indiscretion, no more diet soda. It's been nine days and I'm not craving DC anymore. I see that as a triumph.

Also? I ran outside yesterday, with my dog, for the first time in months. It was a beautiful, sunny winter afternoon, 32 degrees, and I still had about 40 minutes of sunlight left when I got home from work. So I layered up, clipped Ilsa's harness on, and we headed to the park. We basically had the whole park to ourselves, except for a HERD of deer that were feeding in an open field. I wish I would have had my camera. It was glorious! I'd forgotten how much I enjoy running outdoors, especially in the winter.

The treadmill at the gym tonight is going to be even worse!

Well I'm Glad That is Over

Sigh.

So far, in the 12 days since I wrote my last, optimistic, new year-fresh post, I have drunk a ton of diet soda and not worked out one single time. However, after all is said and done, I've lost 5 actual pounds.

On January 2, I was stricken with the worst case of food poisoning I have ever seen, save for that one time that Brad knowingly ate rotten trout. I couldn't keep down even water, I got severely dehydrated, and I was unable to eat real food for 5 days. If I had health insurance, you can bet I would have gone to the emergency room on Sunday morning, after I awoke, presumably from fainting, on the bathroom floor. Unfortunately, I am not eligible for my company's plan yet, so I toughed it out.

During this time, I dropped about 7-8 pounds, which is partially awesome but mostly scary (as I mentioned, 3 of those came back once I was able to eat and drink normally). I finally feel 100% normal, thank goodness. The culprit? I'm sorry to say I believe it was a bottle of kombucha. I understand that a small percentage of people have a severe "allergic" reaction to this fermented tea, that manifests as gastrointestinal toxicity. I guess I will never know for sure, but you can bet that I will never again drink that shit.

Today, I had a long, long day that began at 530 am. As I drove to a jobsite in Morgantown, I contemplated: if I can wake up at 530 to drive for 2.5 hours for work, why can't I awake at 530 to hit the gym for 1 hour before work? I'm going to try to put that into action this week. I am starting with a small goal, of working out before work ONCE this week. Perhaps tomorrow; since I'm already super tired, I don't think I could stay up late if I tried.

Bonus: An Actual Conversation

I'm lying on the couch, in the throes of food poisoning, watching a Jersey Shore marathon and eating crackers. Brad walks in, all handsome and fresh-faced from a 4-hour mountain bike ride. I probably glare at him, I can't help it!

Brad: I think you've invented a celebrity diet.
K: Yeah, saltines and ginger ale?
Brad: Saltines and diet ginger ale.