Snow Days

Nate stops on the way to school to "make little loud" just like Daddy.
He was enchanted by the sound of the shovel scraping the icy cement.
In the car he told me that "little loud make Nate hands ice cold" - pause for effect - "Brrrr"
Thoughtful pause . . . "Oh well, mitten make Nate hands warm up!"
Holy moley, I love this boy.

Day 2

Good news!
It seems I actually do have some muscles in my legs.  I know this because all day they have wanted to complain, individually and in chorus, about the abuses perpetrated on them yesterday.  My abs aren't too happy either.
I have decided to keep it a secret that we're doing the same thing again tomorrow.  Figure tomorrow morning is soon enough for a mutiny.

Day 1

I "ran" today for the first time in years.  It was more a mixture of brisk walking and slow jogging than actual running.  My chubby, out-of-shape legs HATED it.  My lungs would have preferred to be doing something that involved a little less breathing, thank you very much.  And lets just say that the anatomic changes referable to previous lactation introduced an unexpected dynamic.
But now, I am sitting at my desk, a little tired, but proud of myself and really remembering why I loved running so much before.  It makes you feel good.
Really.
One day down, about a bazillion to go before I am ready for THE GREAT RACE.

Food Fight

I'm reading "Unbearable Lightness" by Portia De Rossi.
I'm slightly distressed but actually not surprised to say that I have more in common with her than I am altogether comfortable with.  It's a surprisingly well written and insightful story of her struggle with anorexia.  With weight and image in general, actually.
I haven't finished it yet.  I know she eventually lives happily ever after with Ellen but I suspect that many of her "happy" days are still a struggle.  I am sure there are days when she thinks about weighing a small fraction of her healthy body weight and is a little wistful for the rush of saying no to food and getting on the treadmill instead.  I believe this because I know that rush.
When I came to med school I wanted to change a lot of things about myself.  I knew I was smart but I was shy and insecure and painfully aware of being overweight.  I wanted to dance and party and have lots of friends and feel as free and weightless as other people my age always looked to me.  I was living alone, away from family and close friends.  I wasn't really accountable to or responsible for anyone but me.  I had the chance to make whatever changes I wanted, and with characteristic determination, I took control.
It really did start as a "healthy" eating plan and moderate exercise.
Really.
It's just that my control got out of my control.

I have trouble with food.  I love it.  If it's around I almost can't say no.  I think constantly about what I'm going to eat and when and where.  I eat when I'm bored and I love to eat while I read, even though I don't remember later what I ate because I was reading at the time.  I worry about not having food around when I need it and so I carry a boatload of snacks with me at all times.  Then I eat them because they are there.  I will eat something I don't completely want rather than throw it away because I feel bad about the waste.  If I want to eat something and I choose not to, that desire follows me around and bothers me so it usually seems easier to eat what I want even if I know I shouldn't.  Even if I'm already full.
For all these reasons, moderation was and is almost impossible for me.  Making a good choice about food in the moment is so hard that it made the most sense to me to make all the choices ahead of time.  I decided what to eat at the beginning of the week and didn't buy anything extraneous to my menu.  That sounds OK.  And it was.  But then I narrowed my acceptable list of foods and shrunk my daily calorie count and before I knew it I was afraid of what would happen if I ate anything else.  Instead of freeing me to have fun, as the weight fell away I became a prisoner of the pounds I was afraid to gain back.  I started declining invitations to go out because it was easier to stay home than to figure out how to hide the fact that I didn't eat. 
But I can't say it was bad.  I enjoyed loosing weight.  I enjoyed what people said about my weight loss.  I enjoyed shrinking out of my clothes.  I was ridiculously pleased with the appearance of my collar bones.  Saying no to food felt good.  It felt like I was strong and in control.  I loved it.  Today, when I am feeling the most overwhelmed, out of control, and doubtful of my accomplishments I long to feel that strength again.  That scares me and so I usually eat to combat the feeling.

I never lost enough weight to be underweight.  I never made myself throw up or took any meds or laxatives or anything like that.  I just restricted intake and exercised like a fiend.  But I was definitely far outside the realm of normal healthy behavior.
I don't know how things may have gone.  I was focused on weight loss at all costs and energized by success but I also have good friends who were already starting to worry.  What did happen, is that I met Dave and my focus shifted just enough that the obsessive part of it fell away.  I still ate well and exercised but it was different.  It was a choice, not a need.  I stopped measuring every drop of milk that went into my coffee and the peanut butter on my bread.
Many things have changed in my life since then.  My weight has been up and down.  I have been in shape and out of shape.  Then I had Nathan and my focus swiveled so far around that I stopped seeing myself at all.   Being a doctor and being a mommy have left me taking care of everyone but myself.  Objectively, however, it is time for things to change.  My stamina, flexibility, and strength are basically gone.  My baby is getting faster and stronger and I am not.  I want to be able to run and jump and climb trees with him and with his children which means I have to take much better care of me.

I have been thinking a lot about reasonable changes I can make in my behavior and lifestyle.
I have a plan and I believe I can do it.
Part of the plan is keeping track here of how things are going.  I have decided to keep track of accomplishments and not pounds lost.  Trying to shift the focus a little.
The goal is for Dave and I to run the Pittsburgh Great Race together this fall.
I'll keep you posted on my progress.

A New Challenge

It went about as you might expect when you take a jet-lagged, short on sleep, antacid-free, hungry, clingy, mommy-obsessed, nearly two-year old to a slightly familiar but intimidating location and try to force feed him things he doesn't want.
He took the first peanut butter cracker willingly.
The second grudgingly.
The third dollop of peanut butter was rubbed into his gums off mommy's covert finger.
By the end of the "food challenge", as these things are called, Nate was standing in the hallway outside the exam room crying big fat tears and screaming "No more chocolate" over and over.  You'd think we were sticking him with hot pokers instead of  trying to forcefeed him more Reese's peanut butter cups.  Dark chocolate ones, no less.
The upshot is that he is now allowed to eat peanuts, having demonstrated no evidence of allergy despite consuming several ounces of peanut product.  On the flip side, I don't know if he's ever going to want to eat it after the trauma it induced.

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Christmas Village

This is the annual Ogden Christmas Village at City Hall. We made it for the last night. It was pretty cool because while I have no memories of going before, I have seen pictures of myself there during my first Christmas ever.

We hung around until Nate's plaintive cries of "Nate cheek ice cold" became frequent. Before we got too cold we saw a really cool dancing Santa and a train in motion.