Female Friends and Dieting

What is it about telling a female friend that you are dieting that makes her urge you to stop?
My friend Sheila says maybe we're only trying to help each other increase our self-esteem -- "You look great!" "You don't need to lose weight!" or even "Diets don't work."
We all do it.
I don't enjoy dieting, but a look at the scale reminds me that I weigh about 30 pounds more than I did when we moved to Columbus.

I was even heavier here when we traveled to France in 2015.
I don't want to avoid cameras or dislike my photos in France
because of my weight. 

I weigh almost as much now as I did when I gave birth to my youngest, and he's the one I gained the most weight with.
Yes, I know that muscle weighs more than fat and that I work out constantly so I am probably healthy, but what is wrong with wanting to be at a lower weight?
I'm not trying to lose 30 pounds. People say that would be too skinny, but if you look at me when I was that weight, you wouldn't think I was anorexic.

See? Healthy. Not too skinny. But also young. I'm not trying
to get to that weight. Just less than I am now. 

I look good, healthy -- although at the time, I never realized it.

I just want to lose about 10 pounds.
If I lose 4 pounds from where I am now -- mid diet -- I'll officially not be overweight anymore. That means I'll reach the top end of the BMI which means between 21-25 BMI. Again, I know that muscle might throw off the official BMI reading, but if you looked at the places I carry fat, you really can't argue that I could lose those pounds and it wouldn't hurt. It might make me feel better, run faster, feel sexy about my body.
I promise I'm not in danger of becoming anorexic, and I'm not judging anyone else who is happy with their body. Good for you. I hope to join you on that platform once I reach my goal.

Busted Knees and Juice Fasts

Since January, as I entered menopause, one of the first symptoms that I noticed was weight gain. I've always been pear shaped, so I'd learned to live with my chubby thighs and hips (sometimes chubbier than others), but menopause surprised me with belly fat.

You can see how chunky I am in these pictures with my blogging
friend Linda. These were taken in Paris at the end of March. 

I hate that feeling. I vowed to get rid of the belly fat as spring arrived. I began training for the marathon.
I didn't necessarily plan to run the marathon in the fall, but the training would keep me running and increase the miles each week.
For six weeks, I was diligent, not skipping any of the runs, usually five runs each week. And I'd workout at the YMCA on days I didn't run. I'd worked up to between 20-30 miles each week, and I felt certain that my fat should be melting away soon.
Then Saturday morning, I started down the road on my run. I had five miles to go that morning, and something in my knee caught and then popped.
What was that?
I didn't stop but continued and a few steps later the same thing happened. And again a few steps later.
I hadn't even made it a block before I bent over to look at my knee, as if it might give me answers.
"What's going on with you?" I asked aloud.
A man walking across the street called out asking if I was okay.
"Yeah, just hurt my knee," I said.
"Don't overdo it!" he yelled.
"I'm just starting," I complained.
I decided to keep running, but I kicked my heels higher or stretched out my stride. I just needed to switch it up, I figured.
I was headed to the track because the cushioning was better for my knees and joints. But as I ran, twice more my knee caught then popped. On the final time, I yelled out. I wasn't sure if it was pain or frustration.
Instead of running, I would have to walk. I texted my running friends to complain about my bum knee. As I got back to the street, I decided to try again. Just a few strides in, catch, pop, "Aaargh!"
That time, I knew it was pain and not frustration.
I took it easy, resting my knee. The next morning, I went out again, thinking the pain had been a fluke.
I walked along the street, warming up, and I told myself I needed to try to run, just run. But I couldn't make my body do it. My knee was too afraid of the pain.
Since then, I've hurt it a few more times as I've gone down or up stairs.
I plan to rest my knee for a week or so and if it isn't better, I'll go to the doctor.
In the meantime, I decided that one thing that would definitely benefit my knee would be to lose weight. My poor knees! What kind of pressure am I putting on them?
My friend Sheila is the diet queen. As a matter of fact, she inspired the character in my novel Trail Mix who diets all the time.
For more than 30 days, Sheila has been on a juice fast. She looks great.
The idea of fasting for more than 30 days seems crazy, but she told me to watch Sick, Fat and Nearly Dead, a documentary made by Joe Cross about his 60-day juice fast as he traveled across America.

In addition to being overweight,  more than 300 pounds, Joe had an auto-immune disease that caused skin eruptions.
I can't remember how he came up with the idea to drink only juice for 60 days, but he ended up getting off his medication and losing a lot of weight, while converting others to an all fruit and veggie diet to cleanse their systems.
Now, I'm not great with dieting, but I thought I'd give it a try. I bought a juicer and stocked up on fruits and vegetables.
I'm on day three, and frankly, I'm not feeling great. I have a hard time knowing if that's because I'm not running or because I'm not eating.
I've had a nagging headache, which is probably caused by not drinking enough water, and, frankly, I'm pretty hungry.
This morning, I had a cup of hot water with lemon and ginger, and I drank more water during a brief workout at the Y. When I got home, I made a juice with kale (very little juice comes from kale, I'm not sure what the point is), a small cucumber, two nectarines and two bananas. Pretty tasty, but I'm hungry again.
I think I'll move on to a juice that Grace called a bloody mary, without the alcohol, tomato, celery, and cucumber.
The main staple for the juice fast is supposed to be the Mean Green Juice, which includes cucumber, celery, kale, apples and ginger.
The hunger is supposed to start fading tomorrow. I'll let you know.
Meanwhile, I know that people would prefer that I not try a juice fast. People have already tried to talk me out of it. One acquaintance said, "But you're going to eat on Fourth of July, right?"
I mean, it's July 4th, not Thanksgiving. I think I'll be okay skipping the burgers and hot dogs.
Believe me, I'm in no danger of wasting away, so let me give it a shot. I'm aiming for a 10-day juice fast, unless I get on a roll.
Mmm, rolls.

I'm Back

Wednesday morning, as I ran through the dark streets, I felt like I hit my stride again after a couple of weeks without running.
I didn't run while I was in France. Of course, we walked a lot. But we ate more.
In spite of that, when we returned from vacation, my weight hadn't changed at all. I didn't gain a pound eating those delicious, rich meals in France.

Even when I ate things like this black forest cake in Paris.

After a week at home though and some minimal running, my weight had climbed up two pounds.
I blame the muffins.
On Saturday, I found a recipe for blueberry yogurt muffins, like the kind they now serve at Starbucks. They were so delicious. I want to give you the recipe, like the person who is addicted to something and wants others to enjoy their pleasure/pain, but I urge you not to bake and eat these muffins.
The recipe is on Taste of Home website.
The recipe calls for vanilla yogurt, but I just used plain Greek yogurt, and they were plenty sweet. I also doubled the recipe to bake 12 rather than six. That might have been my downfall, but there were four of us home this weekend and I didn't think that six would be enough.
So, I ate three muffins...
Then on Sunday, I decided to make my children real Croque Monsieur sandwiches, like the kind I ate in France one day for lunch.

I thought it was just a glorified ham and cheese sandwich. Little did I realize that the recipe called for a bechamel sauce along with the ham and cheese. Those turned out quite well too.
And after a week of enjoying cafe creme or cafe au lait, as it is called in different areas of France, when I returned home I eased my way back into mochas.
So all of these things added up to a 2-pound weight gain and I want to avoid the slippery slope.
That's why Wednesday morning when rolled out of bed, later than I planned, I knew I needed to get back to running longer distances.
And I did. I ran five miles, faster than my winter runs, and I felt pretty phenomenal afterward. I hope that I can continue running long distances and indulge in some fabulous food without overdoing it.
I'll let you know how it goes.