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.

Flush

I hate diets. I believe that dieting is at the heart of gaining weight, at least for me. If I limit myself, saying I can't have that one cookie, then I crave cookies and I'll eat a ton.
So I've always tried to eat what I want in moderation and exercise a lot. The past few years, it has caught up with me. That's when my friend Sheila suggested the Fat Flush diet plan. I liked a lot of what the book said about detoxifying the liver and getting rid of wheat, dairy and sugar to see if it is causing the fatigue or allergy symptoms. Plus, the first part of the diet lasts two weeks.
Knowing I probably wouldn't make it two weeks, I decided to give it a try yesterday.
My morning routine includes preparing a press pot of coffee, steaming some milk and pouring the coffee in to make it a lovely tan color then adding a teaspoon of sugar. Well, the fat flush requires no caffeine for the liver to deal with. So my morning started with a cup of hot water and half a lemon. Not nearly as satisfying. And a nagging headache started behind my eyes as I drank the cranberry water concoction that is required - 64 ounces each day. When I drank the cranberry water with a tablespoon of flaxseed, I gagged on the thickness at the bottom.
Breakfast was two hard boiled eggs with some cumin for seasoning. That wasn't bad. Then I walked for an hour with Sheila, chasing along behind her little, speedy dog.
My headache was increasing as I made my way back home.
I steamed some broccoli, sliced a cucumber and opened a pack of tuna for lunch. Then I gave up and headed to the couch for a nap.
Still my headache kept increasing and I felt pressure behind my sinuses.
This detox thing is really clearing out my sinuses, I thought.
That's when I started throwing up and it finally became clear to me that the headache/migraine was connected to my monthly cycle rather than the Fat Flush diet. I lay in a dark room for most of the evening, getting up to puke.
I was feeling little better as 9 o'clock approached and thought I would drive to pick up Spencer from basketball, about 20 minutes away. As I stood up, I ran to the bathroom to throw up.
Flax seeds? Again? How could they still be in my stomach after all day?
I prayed I wouldn't throw up as I drove to get Spencer and his friend. I had left it too late to send Grace to get them. She avoids driving on the highway so it would have taken her much longer to get there.
This morning I am walking carefully, as if I carry a dozen eggs in my head that must not be broken. I am having a cup of coffee to see if I can knock that nagging pain.
I may try the Fat Flush diet again tomorrow or once I get to my parents' house in Florida Friday, but as for today, I can't face any cranberry water or flax seed.
If you want to read about someone not puking on the Fat Flush diet, check out Sheila's blog called Life's Many Colors. http://lifesmanycolors.wordpress.com/

Interval Training

My mom recently sent a batch of photos, one of which makes me wince when I think about it, much less look at it. I could convince myself that it was just an unflattering picture, or I can believe that's what I really look like. It definitely increased my wish to tone up.
I planned to work out this morning. I have more time today because my Friday class isn't meeting. So I would lift weights and run 45 minutes on the treadmill then maybe hop on the bike or the elliptical machine.
Instead, I was captured by the idea of interval training. An article on Roadrunner summed up some results and it sounded easy enough for me to try, so I did. Here's the AP article link:http://www.rr.com/news/topic/article/rr/8459870/10475262/Interval_training_can_cut_exercise_hours_sharply

According to the article, interval training can be more effective than slogging 10 miles every week. Although trainers thought interval training should only be done by elite athletes, they've found that it can work for middle-aged runners, swimmers, bikers, like me.
My goal was to follow the instructions of running faster than usual for four minutes, four different times and walking three minutes in between each one.
The trainer wasn't at the Y this morning so I couldn't ask her how fast I should set the treadmill. I usually run about a 10-minute mile on the treadmill. Should I set it at an 8-minute mile, I wondered? The women working at the front desk were nervous that I was asking.
"Can you wait about 20 minutes?" one woman asked.
"Why? Will the trainer be here?" I asked.
"No, but I'll be gone," she said.
"Wear the clip," they warned. The clip automatically shuts off the treadmill if I fall.
So I climbed on my favorite treadmill, right under the air conditioning vent, and the old guy next to me, who has a white beard down to the middle of his chest, explained that the treadmill actualy has an "interval training button." I set my "jog" speed and my "fast-paced" speed. He advised me to just increase the speed slightly for that first day, so I set it at a 9:30-minute mile.
Of course, the problem with asking someone for advice is that they continue to give it throughout the workout. He said he wouldn't want to walk for three minutes in between. He wouldn't want to run for four minutes either. He'd stick with a minute or a minute and a half. I couldn't imagine focusing enough to change speeds every minute. So I followed the instructions in the article.
When I finished, I had only gone a little over three miles and thirty minutes. Pretty close to my usual 10-minute mile pace. But the article promises that my metabolism will be up and that the oxygen to my muscles will increase. I will probably look like a totally different person the next time anyone sees me.
My butt muscles were a little sore, but I like working out and then having sore muscles; it makes me feel like I've accomplished something.
As the old guy was leaving, he said, "You probably only need to do that interval training once a week."
"Are you kidding, I'll do it three times a week if it can take the place of my two-hour workout," I said.
I lifted weights and then came home to watch those pounds and inches melt away. I'll keep you posted.