Back in the Saddle

It's been a long, unhealthy summer, as evidenced by this pudgy parson's poorly fitting clothes.  But, at least there's been a good reason for it! (Hey, I can rationalize with the best of them!)  We've been in flux since June, when we realized that we would be moving!

But, we're here now (at least our bodies.  Our stuff, well...that's in process). And it's time to start undoing all the damage, and hopefully quit popping buttons off my ill-fitting britches.  But we've made the decision that we're going to do better things in this new place.

And to our credit, the very first day we joined the gym here.  I've gone on really long walks (read: hikes. These here mountains ain't no joke!) with my doggy almost every day. We've made better choices food wise. (Read: we quit stocking Little Debbies in the cabinet.) We've made plans of ways to fit exercise into our lives.  (Read: well, you gotta start somewhere and a plan is as good a place as any)

Last night, though, I surprised myself.  I went to a spin class. I only thought I was going to die a few times.  It wasn't pretty, but at least I had a bike in the back. (Anyone who would've been behind me would've gotten a very jiggly view.  Spin class is apparently not so great for hiding your backside.) I have avoided spin classes in the past as they've kind of intimidated me.  But I went, and it wasn't as bad as I would've guessed.

While I was spinning there, getting nowhere exactly, Bon Jovi's "It's my life" came on.  That used to be a ramp up, play on repeat over and over, song for me. Hearing it again reminded me of my promise to myself-. In it, though the words never said it, I was able to hear me telling myself that I want better for myself and that I'm willing to work for it.  So these are my new words:

It's my life.
It's now or never.
I ain't gonna live forever.
I just wanna live while I'm alive.

A few more reasons to run...

I would choose this view over staring at the tv any day of the week...

The Cornfields by Dawn's Early Light

Who doesn't smile to see a hugemongous sunflower?

Sunflowers...as far as the eye can see

It's in the budget

DH and I listened to Dave Ramsey's "Total Money Makeover" as we were driving home from vacation-- as we've not been nearly as dedicated as we once were. We needed our motivational fires lit...again. (Huh-- this seems to be a recurring theme in my life these days!) DH and I decided together that we want to thrive, and it seems like all we have done the last few months is survive.

Dave Ramsey's whole thing is making a budget, and he loves to say that most people feel like they've gotten a raise when they get on a budget-- when every dollar has a job. He also says that the first step in controlling your money is learning to control the person that you see in the mirror.  "I want it now!" is what the red faced toddler says-- and the grownup who should know better, but who isn't willing to deny gratification for a little while.

It's dawned on me that financial responsibility has a lot of similarities to physical responsibility. (Hmmm... physical and fiscal-- those sound an awful lot alike.) If I want to thrive (which is really what the Pudgy Parson is about), then I need to learn to deal with that person in mirror.  And if budgeting helps my wallet, then I have to believe that budgeting is going to help my waist too-- which is exactly the idea behind weight watchers.  I can budget my points each day, so that I know what my limits are.  I get extra points for exercise, and splurging on treats quickly dwindles my surplus.  It's all about budgeting.  Thinking of it this way makes it seem managable.  I know exactly where my money and my calories are going-- and it helps me be in control of my environment.  Feeling out of control also makes the Pudgy Parson feel a little mean-- which is definitely not a good thing!

Look out, wallet! Look out, waist (and hips and thighs and sticky-outy girl parts), the Pudgy Parson is on a budget!

Starting from scratch

Well, I do exaggerate a little...but not much, because that's exactly what it felt like.  I went running today...and by that, I mean, jalking-- at best.  It wasn't pretty.  Oh, I knew my endurance would flag some, but nothing like what it did.

Several months ago, I was awfully proud of myself for graduating out of the couch-to-5k program (otherwise referred to as "The Lovely British Lady that Lives in my Iphone").  She took me to where I was comfortably running 30+ mins.  But having done that, it was time to take the next step and work with "Ease into 10k".  So I deleted the nice lady from my iphone as I pursued bigger dreams.  But now that I have spent the last several weeks sitting on my ever expanding behind, I need her back.  I apologized to the nice lady (and to my body), and put her back on my iphone.   And without snarking at me, the lovely lady helped me start again.

On the upside, I felt better after finishing the jalk.  And my doggie was pretty happy too. (It's been too hot to leave them outside, but she is an energetic dog-- so the jalk gave her an outlet too.)

There's a half marathon I want to run on Nov 3 called "Conquer the Mountain."  Well, let's be honest here.  If the Pudgy Parson makes it that far, there will already have been a considerable amount of conquering.  But, a gal always needs a goal.

Calling the Pudgy Parson

The Pudgy Parson has left the building!   And hasn't been sighted for some six weeks...it's like she's vamooshed, and definitely not because she has shrunk so much as to be a mere sliver of her old self.

The Pudgy Parson is about healthy living, about making good choices, about making time for what is important.  And that person hasn't been anywhere to be seen lately.   Oh, there's been something living in her body, but it's a grouchy, tired, road-worn, bad choice making, non-exercising person.  Clearly, the heart and soul of the Pudgy Parson has been displaced.

But she's coming back.  Because today I stepped on the scale, and just how badly I've been behaving. After a week at the beach, which was preceeded by six weeks of more or less living out of a suitcase (i.e. not exercising and grabbing fast food), the scale read a number that I couldn't believe. I really thought the ten pound cat had snuck up on the scale with me (as she does sometimes).  I thought the scale was lying.  There is no way that huge number was accurate.

Except that it probably was.  I've not only gained what I'd worked so hard to lose, but a few pounds besides.

Today starts the second half of a year.  It's like New Years, 2.0.  And my life is settling down a little.  And there are new things on my horizon. And I'm tired of feeling so... blah.  I can do better than this, and I want better for me than what I'm doing.   I preached from 2 Corinthians 2 this morning and The Message translation phrases Paul's words this way:  Don't let your good intentions grow stale.

Um, hello! Pudgy Parson... are you out there? I'm ready for a do-over!

Paula Deen's Words of Wisdom

I love Paula Deen-- I love her big personality and the way she could work butter into almost any recipe (at least prior to her diabetes diagnosis, which broke my heart a little, y'all!) But I've appreciated the ways she's been public about her struggle to lead a healthier lifestyle.  This was posted on her blog, but I loved it so much that I wanted you to be able to read it in case you don't follow her (but you should!)

Heading in the Right Direction

By Paula Deen

How come I’m always trying to “get” into shape but I never seem to arrive at my destination? Like most women I know, I’ve tried all sorts of crazy diets and fads over the years, even ones involving legwarmers and a trampoline. Those efforts never really paid off—probably because I lost interest well before the cool down. I know I need to make some changes in my lifestyle, but I also know that this time it’s got to stick like glue. So instead of going hog wild, I’ve decided to embrace the process of “getting there”—one little step at a time.

I’ve been trying to take small steps every day. I’ve been eatin’ more fruits and veggies, and I’ve cut down on fried foods and given up Sweet Tea, which means pigs must be flyin’ somewhere! I even started using my treadmill.

Now that the weather’s improved, I’m enjoying morning strolls outside. I say “hello” to the ducks on the pond and the hens in the chicken coop, and they look at me like I have three heads—guess they aren’t used to my new routine just yet. But the best is when I have someone to chat with so I can get my mind off the walking. I especially love when my dear friend Donna joins me. We end up gossiping like schoolgirls and before we know it, we’ve been moving our feet and running our mouths for 30 minutes!

Recently, I started following up my walk with a delicious breakfast smoothie, which tastes even better after you earn it. Recently, I was introduced to by a dear friend what I now call my Good Morning Green Smoothie. Now, don’t let the color fool you—it’s not like gnawin’ on grass or anything. It’s sweet, refreshing, and surprisingly filling. Donna was a little skeptical at first, but she came around after she saw me suck mine back. I just love, love, love that smoothie!

I was surprised to see these little steps add up. I’m even able to fit into a pair of “wishful” jeans that I’ve been holding onto for years (ladies, y’all know what I’m talkin’ about). Of course, that makes me feel real good about myself, but the best is when someone says to me, “I can tell you’re taking better care of yourself.”

I may not be “there” just yet, but at least I’m gettin’ somewhere.

Stop the Insanity!

I have no idea what that phrase was referring to, but I have some vague memory of a bald Susan Powter (sp?) shouting that through TV screens in the the early 90's.   And it seems like a good phrase for me as I seem to be eating my way through Atlanta right now.  But to be fair, I spent four years here-- and we developed a lot of "favorite" places.   Of course, now that we're back for a conference, it only makes sense to go back.  I guess I am just now realizing why this was such a dangerous place-- or probably the true birthplace of the pudgy parson.  (As I write, DH has come out of the shower--wearing a towel cape, no less-- wondering what I was doing.  "Blogging about all the horrible eating I'm doing while we're here. I feel like we're eating our way through Atlanta!"  He considered this for a moment and said, "I'm the Patrick Henry of eating!  I have not yet begun to eat my way through Atlanta."  Clearly, that's his towel cape talking.  This is surely not my weight-watcher's-doing, gym-going, rockstar of a husband.)  But what I was telling you before towel-cape man showed up was that Atlanta was dangerous...but sadly, the police could do nothing about this sort of dangerous.  After all, they cannot arrest folks for stuffing their faces.  (Probably best that way.  That'd be a terrible thing to get a reputation for.   If I'm going to make headlines, I want it to be for something better than "Presbyterian Pastor Arrested for Gluttony.")

My body is getting down right grouchy again-- as it does when I fall prey to this bad behavior.  It's like my body thinks it gets a vote.  It's like my stomach is shouting "Stop the Insanity!!".  Gosh, I hope the people next to me can't hear it.  That would make for an interesting conversation...

So...who wants Thai food for lunch? Anyone? Anyone?