Tuesday, March 6, 2012

"Run, run, run...fast as you can!"

"...can't catch me-- I'm the stinky cheese man" (a slightly grumpier version of the Gingerbread Man)

I'm not the stinky cheese man--though I think my DH might argue that I'm fairly ripe by time I wander home-- but I feel like I'm running as fast as I can, not to be caught.  (uhh... terrifically slow time notwithstanding...I don't think I'm actually running much faster than a good speed walk, but that's beside the point.)  I'm on fire, having now convinced myself to run just shy of four miles yesterday.  I wake up thinking about running, I get grouchy if I can't.  It's becoming a beast inside of me.  I am running a 5k next Saturday, and for the first time, I think I might run the whole thing.   It's a small accomplishment, but huge to my mind--because for most of my life, that seemed like the obstacle I could never overcome.  And being as big as I've gotten, the fact that I'm able to do this now is nothing short of amazing to me.

I'm getting ready to switch from the 5k app to the 10k app, and already have the date of a half marathon on my calendar.  Uh...on my anniversary. DH won't mind, right?

Better Together

He was my best friend in the fourth grade.  Then four years ago, he became my husband.  And now he's become my weight-loss partner.

I've been begging him to join Weight Watcher for me for quite some time, but it was never something that he wanted to do.  But then he started going to the gym when a friend begged him, and while he suddenly became a weight-lifting superstar, he wasn't seeing the results he wanted.  So DH joined with me, and for the first time ever, conquering this 60-lb bulge seems doable.  We've instituted a new rule, which he calls "If I bite it, I write it".  We plan our meals, do the dishes, and then get out our respective I-devices and track our meals. We cheer each other on, instead of accidentally sabotaging each other.

And God love him, he's even coming with me to Hot Yoga--which in prior times, might have been his vision of hell. (The room itself feels like hell--as it's heated to around 95 degrees...)  But he goes, and contrary to my original thought, he's not even going because my spandex-clad body parts are in strange positions in front of him.

Certainly, all this "together" is good for our health-- it's a whole lot easier this way.  And it sheds new light on "Two are better than one... for if one falls, who will help him up?"  But the best part is that it gives us a common interest-- and for two people as different as we are, that's kind of nice.  We are, after all, better together.