Two hours

"Ma'am, you're in good shape," the security guard said. "You've been running a looonnngg time!"

That happened about halfway through my two-hour run tonight, and it kept me going for the next half, just basking in the pure surrealism of it all. Me? In good shape? What a concept.

I had been dreading the run a bit. Unfortunately, I had shot my mouth off, both here and to people in person. I won't be doing that again.

The run itself went fine. I had planned well. I stopped eating two hours before. I drank a lot of water throughout the day. I made sure I was wearing clothing that I was familiar with and that wouldn't irritate me in any way.

There were a few moments where I would've preferred to stop. My legs got really heavy at about the 90-minute mark, and I started questioning whether I would make it. But that didn't last very long.

I'm a little shaky now, but nothing terrible. I don't feel like eating, although I should. I got home in time for Earth Hour, which meant the lights and electronic devices were turned off and I got to regale the kids with stories from my childhood (they asked).

It'll be interesting to see how tomorrow goes.

More new music

One of my brothers just turned me on to more incredible running music, which is old. He knows my taste well, so he usually hits home runs. These were grand slams, though.

"You're So Vain" (yes, that "You're So Vain") done by Faster Pussycat
"And I Will Be With You" The Mr. T Experience
"Drunken Lullabies" by Flogging Molly

Paul was threatening to divorce me over my horrific taste in music the other day. (Yes, he's totally kidding.) This won't help.

So, in order to stay married, I bought him some Hank Mobley and Chicago, which I also like but won't run to.

Half hour

I decided to do only 30 minutes today. In hopes of doing two hours of running tomorrow.

We'll have to see, though.

Last week, when I got in 105 minutes, I had only been planning to do about 70. For some reason, it feels better psychologically to do more than you plan than to plan to do a lot. I'm either going to have to get up and going nice and early -- or wait until evening.

Side effect

One negative side effect to the running (of course I would find one): I don't read as much. I read really fast, thanks to a speed-reading course in 7th grade, so spending four hours a week running means I'm reading at least two or three fewer books a week. It all depends on the type of book, of course.

After reading Haruki Murakami's running book, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, I went and requested a bunch of his fiction from the library. Have I gotten to it yet? Of course not.

Repetition

When it comes to music, I like a lot of new stuff. Otherwise, I get bored.

I like reading new and different kinds of books and magazines, meeting new people, doing new things.

Otherwise I get bored.

When it comes to doing any kind of sports-type of thing, though, I want repetition.

Because otherwise I have to concentrate so much on "OK, what am I supposed to be doing?" that I can't really get much of a workout in. I think that's why I like running so much. And feel like an idiot in Pilates. I don't have to think about running. I do have to think with Pilates.

It's difficult for people who are physically gifted to understand those of us who are so klutzy. They're also used to people who want as much variety in their exercise as I do in virtually everything else in my life. So, when my Pilates gal apologizes for repeating the workout, I thank her.

My running buddies

I don't run with other people. I've got too much of the caretaking mother thing going. It'd mess with me and mess with my pace. I have to be really selfish while I'm running in order to get through it.

That said, I do have running buddies, the strangers I see regularly. I see them enough that we have a certain pleasant familiarity, as we do the same silly thing. My schedule is changing so I'm going to lose some of them, though.

There's the small 50-something guy who runs backwards and (still) faster than me.

There's the petite 20-something woman with the high ponytail who always says hi as she passes.

There's a couple of security guards, who also always say hello.

There's the voluptuous woman who jumps rope and uses resistance bands near the trail. I'm always tempted to offer her anti-bouncing suggestions, but I'm not sure it would be appreciated.

There's a few big 50-somethings, who look like former military types or college athletes. They don't seem to be together, but I see them regularly along the same trail, and they run for at least as long as I do. In the opposite direction. I get little nods from them. Must be military.

I went out early today, so I didn't see anyone I "know."

Got my 61 minutes in, but it was a hard one. I was stupidly trying to lengthen my stride at the beginning and that tired me out more quickly. I also drank my breakfast (just a smoothie!) soon before. That was an experiment I won't be repeating.

It's not me

I'm really not trying to brag when I talk about this whole ascetic thing.

I'm sorry if it sounds like it.

It's really not me. I'm not Superwoman (at least on that front).

When you don't eat sugar, wheat or flour, you don't want sugar, wheat or flour. I say I'm good at resisting temptation, but it's because something physiological has happened.

That's it.

Overcoming weirdnesses

Some guy I barely know hugged me last night. It's probably a good sign. I most certainly never would have initiated it.

You see, I'm not a touchy person except within my family. Once I get to know someone, I'm fine. It takes longer with men, but I eventually do OK.

And, yes, I know this is one of my weirdnesses. I'm not proud of it; it's just reality. I was worse before I got married.

I literally dated a few men (men I liked!) who never touched me. Of course, I didn't date them long, as they undoubted started wondering what the heck was going on as I gave them all kinds of mixed messages. That's one reason I think I have so many male friends from way back.

I remember, with Paul, consciously thinking, "You really like this one. Don't screw it up."

And, Paul, who looked (and looks) really young, but who has a number of years on me, was confident enough in his own skin (and his own weirdnesses) that he could handle me and my weirdnesses.

I do see this whole hugging business as a part of the weight loss, though. When I was fat and weird, I didn't get nearly the number of hugs from men that I -- still weird -- do now. Of course, men are men, and some of that comes from looking better. I do hope at least some of it's because I've loosened up a bit, though, too. And, some, undoubtedly, is the certain micro-cultures I'm around.

Cheating

I got the big question today, from someone I've known for a while. I didn't bring it up, as talk about the diet isn't something I usually initiate, but she asked:

"Have you really not had sugar, wheat or flour in more than a year? You haven't cheated at all"

No, I haven't.

OK, I've had my little incidents. But they were totally accidental. I've never looked at something, thought, "This has sugar or flour and I shouldn't be eating it," and then ate it anyway. Sometimes, I'll think something doesn't have sugar or flour, but then taste it and realize that it probably does. So I stop.

And, oh, I have my temptations, but they're not very strong -- most of the time. I made quiche today, and I'm a huge fan of a certain wheat-heavy part of the quiche. It looked particularly appetizing. There's the little ache of yearning, but I just think: "No, I don't eat that."

It sounds so simplistic -- and, I know, unbelievable. I certainly didn't believe it.

If I start feeling sorry for myself, I just think, "You've certainly had your share of (fill-in-the-blank) in the past."

The greatest headphones ever

With a little bit of research, I found the best headphones for running with the iPod shuffle. I've been using them for the last couple of months, and they're far superior to running with corded headphones.

Here they are.

In the dark, in the park

I got 61 minutes of running in tonight. It was dark, so Paul came with me. Instead of boring ourselves to death going around the circle, we worked our way to the park.

The lights were on. There was a security guard. I also had a couple of guys running around about twice as fast as me. I didn't expect that many people out so late.

Music stuff

The first guy who ever supervised me in a newspaper job tracked me down on facebook recently. He also knew Paul (much better), but Paul -- intelligently -- has refused to be part of the insanity that is facebook. So I have some "friends" who are really more his, including a couple of his old hiking/camping buddies.

But I digress.

Anyway, this old colleague has a website where he documents his own personal Top 40. And he's been keeping track for decades, long before the Internet. Most of his stuff, for any given time, is really current.

I can't juggle 40 current songs at a time. My top songs usually total more like five, and I can get obsessive about something old just as easily. Over the last couple of days, the song stuck on repeat in my head and my iTunes is "I'm Not Going to Teach Your Boyfriend How to Dance With You" by Black Kids. Even my 13-year-old approves, and my taste is usually way too weird for him. So I guess I'm going mainstream.

Weight limits

I went to a traditional amusement park yesterday for the first time in a long time.

It's the kind of place with some semi-wild coasters.

Amusement parks can be a challenge for fat people. Unless you're at Disneyland where everything has already been supersized for American butts, you don't know for sure that you're going to fit onto any ride.

Plus, the types of people who are killed on amusement park rides are either a) young, probably drunk men who do something ill-advised and b) fat women. Something about Newton's Law. ...

The last time I went to a park like this I was just a few weeks into the plan. I still weighed at least 235 (I can't remember). I felt pretty good because I was eating just like I do now, but I was still big -- a Size 18, which is an XL or an XXL, and I'm pretty solidly a Medium now.

Anyway, it was pretty embarrassing. All the workers had to make extra sure I was strapped in thoroughly and that I wasn't throwing the ride out of balance in some way. There were some strapping systems where it was up in the air as to whether or not I could fit.

Yesterday, however, I fit on everything with absolutely no trouble. I'd watch the workers go around and sometimes move heavier people into different spots. Or push down really hard to get their restraints to latch. They'd walk right by me. I fit fine, and my straps closed easily.

There was even one ride where there was a weight limit posted. "In order to ride, you must weigh under 230 pounds." I caught myself, thinking, "Let's see. Can I can go on that?" (It's the ride in the picture above, by the way.)

I was well under the weight limits, of course, but just being at an amusement parks, with its strong emotional associations of embarrassment and shame, brings me back to the days when fitting on rides was a genuine concern.

Replacing addictions

I don't completely buy into the whole compulsive eater or food/carb addict diagnoses. At least for myself.

Then again, doing what the admitted food addicts do has certainly worked for me. Even though they'd say I'm in denial.

One thing I have worried about, though, is the possibility of trading one obsession and/or vice for another. Which is common among addicts and other compulsive types.

I don't think alcohol will be a problem for me. I enjoy drinking, but I've never done it to excess.

I don't enjoy gambling, so I don't do that at all. Not even lottery tickets.

I'm way too married and Catholic to go the David Duchovny route.

So maybe running will be it, my replacement compulsion for too much food. At least that one is healthy.

Recovery run

Once again, I have lied.

Instead of resting today, I ran for 30 minutes. It was a very slow run; I was just trying to get the heart pumping.

I brought a jacket, which was a mistake. I got too hot and needed to take it off, so I left it on a bench. I should know better.

I envy people who sweat rivers, as it helps keep them cool. It takes an hour of running for just my back to get slightly wet; before that, I just look like I've got a nasty sunburn -- my face is beet red.

I'm dreading the warmer weather.