H2O

Three minutes

I can do a lot in three minutes:

• Play three games of Bejeweled Blitz
• Microwave bacon almost to my desired crispness
• Boil an egg (? I thought that took a lot longer, but not according to Mr. Google)
• Brush my teeth

Today, I can add run without stopping to that list. 

That’s right: I finished Week 3, Day 1 of C25K, which included two three-minute runs. I finished them both without stopping, even though that first three minutes d-r-a-g-g-e-d out forever. (Okay, the second one wasn’t much better.) I hope it gets easier, or I’ll never make it through that 20-minute run in Week 5.

Today’s workout stats:

Not too bad, even if I was a hot mess when I finished. Seriously — I can’t remember the last time I lost that much sweat. Probably not since the first weeks of Tina Reale’s Best Body Bootcamp.

Speaking of bootcamp, I wonder when the next one starts. Despite having all my bootcamp workouts printed out, I haven’t been able to push myself to do one since the program ended.

The scale wasn’t so kind to me Thursday morning, though. Even though I’m feeling fine and expected to see a number in the high 210s, I’m back up.

What, exactly, happened? I can’t begin to say.

I feel actually feel lighter and stronger and like I’ve been making good choices this week. My clothes even seem a little looser. Perhaps last weekend’s vacation indulgences (a couple of Frappuccinos, a cookie and way too many handfuls of those delicious TJ’s Chili-Lime Cashews) finally caught up with me? Maybe I just didn’t drink enough water Wednesday.

It could also be the difference in scales. I was back on my own trusty WW scale, instead of the one at the Boyfriend’s. Maybe my “the scale weighs 2.4 pounds too heavy” wasn’t as accurate as I thought. (I swear it’s correct, though. I hopped on that scale directly after weighing myself on my WW scale one morning and came up with a number exactly 2.4 pounds higher.)

Anyway … here’s where I remind myself that the number on the scale is just that: A number. It doesn’t measure my success or happiness, or my self-worth. If I feel like I’m on track, I just need to keep doing what I’m doing. The scale will catch up eventually.

Pep talk over.

Thursday morning’s kitchen time didn’t include the pancake breakfast I included in the day’s menu plan. I did, however, have time to make meatballs and cauliflower risotto — both of which are delicious.

I had five meatballs with 2 T of tomato sauce for lunch after writing time. Dinner was cauliflower risotto and ham salad in lettuce cups with a side of cucumber spears.

In between, I snacked on a couple of deviled eggs. Thank goodness this batch tasted better than the last one. The difference? I boiled these eggs myself.

That’s definitely the way to go, even if it’s not as convenient as the hard-boiled eggs in the deli.

Better yet, I’ll be able to eat more homemade meals. I have leftover ham salad, risotto and meatballs.

I love rediscovering home-cooking.

Breaking free

I feel like I’m still in a food rut. Despite all the choices available to me, I tend to fall back on the same things day after day.

Variety, for me, is a double-edged sword. Too many choices leads to overeating, yet I enjoy trying new foods — and new recipes. I have an extensive collection of low-carb recipes my roommate and I printed from various websites when we were on Atkins in 2003, as well as several low-carb cookbooks.

Even with all those recipes at my disposal, I tend to rely on the same foods. Omelets. Burgers. Zucchini. Cheese. Atkins bars and shakes for on-the-go meals.

Part of the problem is a lack of time. I enjoy being in the kitchen, but there are other things I enjoy a heckuva lot more (like writing). Then there are the things I have to do, like it or not (work, working out). Getting those needs and wants done leaves precious little time for cooking.

Of course, that’s when I end up at Five Guys for a lettuce-wrapped burger … or Arby’s for roast beef and cheddar sauce (hold the bun) … or Wendy’s for a BLT Cobb salad (hopefully with bacon. I had one not too long ago without bacon. How can you forget to put bacon on a BLT Cobb salad? It’s right in the name!).

I either need to find that elusive balance or add another three or four hours to my day. Which one seems more likely? Since I’ve been seeking balance for years now, it might be easier to rearrange the number of hours in the day.

Huh. I started searching online for “hours in a day” and found this web page dedicated to the 28-hour day. Apparently we can thank the Egyptians for our 24-hour day — they learned to count using the joints on each finger, and there are 12 per hand, so they decreed 12 parts to the day and 12 to the night.

Fascinating stuff, eh?

I can tell you there weren’t enough hours in the day today to get everything done at work. We were down a page designer for the second straight day, which wreaked havoc on our regular schedule. That’s why I knew Friday would be a stressful day.

I tried to prepare by chillin’ with a Metromint chocolatemint water. It didn’t do as much to calm me as I’d hoped.

I’ll be at work again tomorrow. No Saturday off for me this week, thanks to another page designer on vacation. That means we’re down to two. Both of us are going to be in desperate need of a day off by the end of this weekend.

Best-laid plans

It turns out ol’ Robert Burns is right: The best-laid plans of mice and (wo)men often go awry. Such was the case for me at my writer’s conference last weekend. You knew there was a reason I’ve been silent this week, right? (Actually, I’ve still been super busy.)

I planned to get in my last two Best Body Bootcamp workouts on Saturday and Sunday mornings while everyone else was still sleeping, before conference sessions got under way. I even packed my gym clothes and tennis shoes. I scoped out the location of the hotel gym on the map … and then didn’t go anywhere near the darn place.

I did get quite a bit of walking in on the conference center grounds — more than 12,000 steps Friday alone. But I didn’t do my formal workouts. Is it coincidence that I didn’t win bootcamp’s big cash prize? I think not.

My plan also included staying on my low-carb diet. I packed Atkins bars and brownies to help me avoid temptation … and then, between sessions, I snatched a mini Reese’s cup from one of the bowls in the conference check-in area. (Writers love their chocolate, so it was present in abundance, and I’d foolishly left my Atkins snacks in my luggage … in the hot car.) One led to another, and pretty soon it was open season on sweets and carbs in general.

It didn’t help that there were no diabetic meals after all, and every chicken breast was breaded. Someone suggested Saturday that I ask for the gluten-free meal. No breading there … but by then I’d already devoured potatoes, white and wild rice pilaf, chocolate mousse, a heavenly chocolate cake with whipped cream and raspberry sauce and other assorted carby treats.

Oh, it was way too easy to slip back into my old, bad habits. We stopped at the swanky Scottsdale Fashion Square mall Sunday after the conference and I was still in a carb free-for-all. I got a dark chocolate milkshake from Johnny Rockets, crowned with thick whipped cream. It was dee-ee-licious.

But after I tossed the cup in the trash, I gave myself the old diet pep talk. You know the one: “One day — even one weekend — of out-of-control eating won’t cause you to regain all the weight you’ve lost. Continuing to eat crap will, though, so get back on track now.”

I took a deep breath, told myself that once I left the mall I was back on Atkins and then stepped through the doors. I didn’t look back.

After a weekend on carb overload, I felt blah and bloated. It’s also been tougher for me to say “no” to the things I usually have no trouble bypassing. But I’m doing it, and I know the desire for bread/sweets will go away.

I’m not looking forward to getting on the scale in the morning, though. It won’t be pretty.

At least I got in all my water each day. H2O was nearly as omnipresent as chocolate, with giant pitchers of ice water in each conference room and more in the common area.