Three miles on the treadmill

I have no idea as to the time because I managed to get the thing to stop midrun.

A friend of mine sent me her marathon training schedule today, and I might just follow along with it. I still don't see myself as ready to run a marathon in under five hours, and I don't want to attempt one until I know I can do that.

Following along with her program would mean nine miles tomorrow, though, so we'll see.

When am I going to stop?

One of my brothers asked me when I was going to be done with the diet yet again.

The answer is I won't ever be, at least I can't imagine going off. At a certain point, I'll let my weight stabilize. And have an occasional drink again.

I think I'd like to get under 150 pounds, which would bring my total pounds lost to 100. If I get to what I weighed when Paul and I got together it would be an additional five pounds.

Although it's tempting, I shouldn't focus on the scale, though.

Heavy legs

I ran for a half-hour this morning on really heavy legs.

It's my fault for -- get this! -- being too darn active this past week. I played baseball again yesterday, which requires occasional sprinting a) to run around the bases, b) to back up inevitably errant throws and c) to get to pop-ups, which I almost invariably dropped.

It got so bad I made my son throw to me in between innings, as I had somehow thought I could come in cold and play decently. I had grilled supper beforehand and missed the warm-ups.

The run was just OK. I started off listening to some Paul-approved music, but it almost immediately degenerated into my nasty, bass-driven stuff. The run went better after that.

Recovering fat girl story: One of the dads set up a slackline at the park. A slackline is a tight piece of flat fabric pulled tightly between two trees. You walk on it, like a tightrope. Now, because of my vertigo issues, this is not playing to my strengths, but I'll try almost anything.

The idea flashed through my mind, though, that I shouldn't do it, that I might mess it up -- by pulling it down with my weight. Except that wouldn't happen. It might not even have happened when I weighed well over 200.

But I forget I'm not fat anymore, so my mind still goes there.

Multicultural meal

Last night, for dinner, I had:

Shredded chicken with wasabi
Mary's Gone Crackers with salsa especial
stir-fried bok choy and shredded carrots with ginger, garlic, and tamari

Yes, it was bizarre. But very flavorful.

How I eat fast food

Breakfast: Just. Don't. Do. It. There's nothing worth eating on the menus for anyone. There is literally nothing I can eat.

Lunch and dinner: Iced tea, "protein-style" burger -- and veggies and carbs from home. I don't trust the chicken salads, as that chicken is invariably coated with some sort of sugar. And there's cheese and croutons already added.

Beauties

The weirdest comments I get come from some of the most ravishing women I know.

Today, one gorgeous and thin young woman told me that she doesn't own a pair of shorts and that she would never show as much leg as I was (and it really wasn't all that much). She was clearly envying my chutzpah. But heck, I'm in my 40s; I just don't care. Plus, I didn't lack in body confidence even when I was gigantic -- it was because of the easy time I had with birth and breastfeeding, the functionality of my body. I'm going to have even more body confidence now.

Maybe the beauties are the ones who are that much more aware of and focused on appearance because it's their strength. My strength has always been more in my head. Being average looking is probably an advantage psychologically, as I'm therefore less worried about declining appearance. And, with being heavy for years, I had already experienced the feeling of being invisible, the feeling that I suspect older women get as well. That was one thing that I hated about losing weight when it first happened -- not being invisible anymore made me uncomfortable and, indeed, a bit angry. But some of that was discomfort with change. I was used to and generally happy with my invisibility.

I can see the gorgeous being that much more upset when attention to their beauty lessens, as it has to do as they age or when they go through frumpy stages of life with young babies. It's change as well.

Exercise notes: On Tuesday, between my run, playing in the surf and baseball in the evening, I managed to get a bit sore. Today, there's more baseball and I'm also hoping to get a run in at the park.

Paul Points notes: He was listening to my iPod yesterday. Uh oh. I lost points over that. He knows I like music he hates, but he seldom has to confront it in all its testosterone-fueled fury.

The 71-year-old roller skater

At the beach today, I met a 71-year-old roller skater.

She was parked in a spot next to where I wanted to park. Her door was flung wide open so I couldn't get in. At first she was clueless, but then she closed the door for me. I smiled and mouthed a "thank you."

When she got off the phone while I was putting my ticket on the window, I mentioned that her skates looked like fun.

She said they are, especially when you're 71.

She didn't look anywhere near that age. Although, of course, what 71 looks like can be shocking out here. A friend of mine just turned 70, and he also looks amazing and rides hundreds of miles on his bike.

She was also sweet because after I raved about her activity, she asked me if I were keeping active myself -- and I got to tell her the one-sentence version of the weight-loss story.

Paul wonders how I meet all these people. It's easy. I talk to them. I have to credit my journalism background and my experience leading support group meetings for that, as I used to be so insecure/shy that I wouldn't talk to people. Having to talk to people made it clear to me that a) most don't bite and b) it can be a lot of fun.

65 minutes

I got out the door at 6:30 a.m., which was a good thing because there's no marine layer this morning. It wasn't super-hot, but it was sunny. I ended up doing my shaded-by-buildings, concrete route and being out there for 65 minutes.

If I didn't get out early, it'd be another day without running, as I'm busy with driving kids around and going to the beach today.

(I read that and realize that I'm really pretty darn lucky. I get to spend a lot of time with my kids and go to the beach whenever I want.)

I'm having to retire another running skort as it's falling down too much, thanks to my disappearing butt. I need to do stairs or something.

Yesterday, I was driving around with Paul. He oh-so-helpfully pointed out another runner: "Look, she runs slower than you." Thanks.

Paul Points

My husband thinks he's a comedian.

Of course, don't they all?

Anyway, his latest thing is he's awarding me "Paul Points" for good wifely behavior, which he says should play into my good-student-who-wants-to-please-the-teacher tendencies.

Except he's not my teacher.

But I went along with the joke anyway.

I earned points for

1) Preparing yummy meals I cannot eat.

2) Going for a walk with him instead of a run by myself.

3) Not losing my keys. (My penchant for temporarily misplacing crucial items irritates him and understandably so.)

4) Listening to White Sox baseball talk -- and offering insightful commentary.

5) Translating Ozzie Guillen (the Sox manager) for him (extra credit!). I love Ozzie because he talks just like my father did, liberally sprinkled with obscure baseball profanity, and most baseball guys filter the baseball-isms out for reporters.

6) Not falling asleep during "Rachel Getting Married," which was a big disappointment. Oh, it was a well-enough-done film, but I was expecting so much better with all the buzz. I'm glad I didn't pay theater ticket prices for it.

I have yet to earn points for listening to analysis of stock-chart patterns since the Paul Points have been unveiled, but I know that it is coming.

Goofy new (old) music

I don't know what the heck is happening with L.A. radio, but I swear it feels like it's the '80s again. I didn't listen to the silly one-hit wonder music my kids associate with the '80s; it was all hard stuff for me and most people I knew. It was the album-oriented rock heydey when stations would be "Getting the Led out" and playing a few Led Zeppelin songs at a certain time every day.

It is not helping me with my 42-but-feeling-20 tendencies -- all these high school flashbacks brought on by radio music.

But, regardless, I had to add some Zeppelin to my iPod. I'd forgotten how much I like them, despite their goofiness.

Additional music from this century that I've gotten into: The Raconteurs. Also, my 13-year-old has gotten obsessed with the Arctic Monkeys and Cage the Elephant, and his enthusiasm is rubbing off on me a bit.

Blood donation

I haven't given blood in a couple of years, but they had it set up right after Mass, so it was really convenient.

I found out my resting heart rate is now in the low 60s. It's bizarre, but I found out more of my numbers from this experience than from the physical last week. Oh, managed care.

The workers first said no exercise for 24 hours, but when I pushed the point, the one who actually took my blood told me that after four hours it would be fine to run. So now I have no excuses. He also let me leave almost immediately after telling everyone else they had to wait 15 minutes. Oh, the advantages of being obnoxious.

A volunteer tried to insist that I eat cookies and juice, but I told them I'd eat as soon as I got home. I don't know why they fill people up with sugar when the protein would have to be at least as important.