First the good news: I am now in a pants size 8! And while I suspect that size 8 isn’t what size 8 was when I wore them 20 years ago, I’ll take it. They are even getting a little big on me, I might add. Now the bad news: despite feeling great, losing a bowling ball in weight, and getting my family’s eating on a healthier track, I’m having a wee bit of trouble staying motivated. Self-denial loses it’s novelty after a while and little moments of naughtiness are creeping in. A brownie here, a few french fries there. It’s adding up to a stalemate between my mouth and my muffin top.

Time for some motivation. Size 6 is in my sites, but that just isn’t enough to keep me going. I know—a bathing suit!!! I’ll just go put one on. Hang on a sec....

hmmm.....

uh....

yuck.



So much pasty whiteness and, sadly, some soft stuff that is still apparently part of my body. 

Well, yes, that’s frightening, but I really do love sweets and starch, and I’m not sure if the bathing suit is giving me enough motivation.

I have a new idea! I am going to put on my triathlon suit—also known by those who have worn them as brightly colored sausage casing. They make swimsuits look like snowsuits. It’s unbelievable. A truly humbling experience. And that’s even before you leave your closet. These things are meant to be worn outside. In public. Next to people who run 10 miles as a warm-up. If that won’t do it, nothing will.

And just so you know this isn’t all about vanity, I need to get lean and light because I will be wearing my trisuit in July for my first Olympic-length triathlon!! 1 mile swim, 20-something mile bike ride and a 6.2 mile run--in heat!!! I’m scared, excited and nervous. I need to be a lean, mean, strong swimming/biking/running machine! Yeah baby! So here I go, putting it on....




Oh, boy, that’s really not too shabby. I look much better in my trisuit than I thought I would! Well, now I am really motivated to keep up the good work. Today: eating right (after a much needed trip to the grocery) and swimming a mile. Bring it on!!!

I admit it, I’m one of those people with a ‘Life is Good’ sticker on the back of my car. And when I see it during my Mommy Errands around town, I think two things: 1. Man, do I need to come up with my own catch phrase to merchandise, and 2. Life truly is good and days are full of small, wonderful moments, easily overlooked, that need to be cherished. Do not, I tell myself, squander this good life. It sounds simple, but that understanding came at a big price....that understanding is also why I’m part of Surviving Strong.






When my sister was in her mid-30s, with three young children, she was diagnosed with cancer. And while she was surrounded by family and a few good, supportive friends, none of us had ever had cancer. None of us had ever faced anything like this before. My sister kept up an amazingly strong front for her kids—for all of us. I remember it used to frustrate me when she would make an effort to look good for her doctor appointments. I felt like saying, “Let him see how sick you are! Let him see how thin you are, let him see the pallor, the dark circles under your eyes! Maybe then he’ll work harder to fix you.” But what she needed was to not be seen as weak, a victim, a lost cause.

All that outward strength just underscored how lonely her journey was. As long as I live, I’ll never forget her telling me that sometimes she would wake up in the middle of the night and not be able to go back to sleep. Not wanting to wake my brother-in-law, she would curl up on the floor with her big bear of a dog, Max. Typical for my sister, she didn’t tell me she was afraid, but that image of my sister speaks for itself and brings tears to my eyes to this day, over 15 years later.

My sister endured surgery, chemo, radiation, even interferon treatments. It was horrible. She was brave.  She was also in so many ways—despite her amazing husband and all of us around her supporting her and loving her—alone.  Back then in the mid-90s, I suppose there were a couple cancer support groups through the hospital. But sitting around talking about feelings, dwelling on problems, was not my sister’s thing. She was about “getting on with things.” Positive action, practicality and forward focus, not commiseration with strangers in a  hospital meeting room under fluorescent light with bad coffee and stale cookies. (Okay, I may be exaggerating a bit, but I think my sister would approve.)

If, instead, my sister had had a group of friends, who also happen to understand cancer, and who think of themselves not as patients, but as survivors—that would have gone a long way toward making her fight against cancer less lonely. A half hour walk or workout with someone also going through what she was going through—chatting, joking, sharing experiences, focusing on something positive—that would’ve been perfect. I won't speculate on how that might've affected her health—but I know it could only have helped.

When I heard about Surviving Strong, I had to be part of it. This is a group that my sister, definitely not a “joiner,” would have liked. It's about friendship and caring and support, but it's not fussy or touchy-feely. It's fun. It's encouraging. It's full of hope. Surviving Strong focuses on building strength day by day in each person who has had a cancer diagnosis. Little steps, little actions that lead to big results. My sister would've liked that.

That's why, along with my Life is Good Sticker, I put another sticker on my car after I ran my first half marathon: “13.1” It’s on there because, just like my Surviving Strong friends, I will not take this good life for granted. I will work to keep my body strong and encourage those around me to do so as well. I am going to be a survivor because, as hard as she tried, my sister didn't have the chance.

So, yes, life is good—very good. I get to make my 5 year old giggle and watch my 12 year old train for her first running race. I can watch the wrinkles get deeper around my eyes while at the same time feel my body be able to run a little farther or a little faster each day. And I can fight to stay strong—for family, for myself—for my sister. I will not squander this good life.

I just had my birthday a couple of days ago (No, it was not a hummus birthday cake but a big, fattening chocolate and whipped cream extravaganza, thank you very much. I loved every bite.) and I’ll tell you straight up that I am now FORTY-FIVE years old. In fact, I’m in my FORTY-SIXTH year. I am now over 16,425 days old, give or take a leap day. And that’s just fine by me.
 
I’ve never understood people who worry about their age. My goodness, getting older happens to everybody—except maybe Joan Rivers, but she’s mostly synthetic at this point and doesn’t count. Big whoop, I’m no longer 25. This attitude comes in part because my sister was only 37 when she died of cancer. She’d have loved another birthday, so I cherish mine. But that’s a story I’ll tell another day. The other reason I’ve never minded getting older is that my mom and grandma have set such amazing examples of aging with humor, vitality and grace.



My grandma always said she felt 18 years old inside and phooey if the outside didn’t quite match the inside. The 18 year old was always there in her eyes and in her attitude. She lived up on a mountain and when we visited, she'd take us on long hikes through the woods. It was an amazing adventure and only later did I realize how unusual it was to have a mountain climbing grandma. I also distinctly remember her pushing the mower across her lawn on a day when both her age and the temperature were in the low 80s. In the spring, she’d be out there scrubbing the siding of the house. And she always, always hung out on the floor playing with her grandkids, then great-grandkids. She kept busy, active and joyful—and that kept her vital and healthy. She was an incredible lady.

My mom told me my grandma is her blueprint for how to age. And darn it if she isn’t following it to the letter. You don't often find someone in her mid-70s with my mom’s energy and spirit. She is a strong advocate of staying fit and walking is her exercise of choice. She has probably walked the equivalent of a couple of loops around the planet in the last 30 years. She walks between 3 and 5 miles a day even with a bad knee. Give her a cortisone shot and she’s good to go. Her energy is astounding—she can handle my four young kids better than I can (and I take shameful advantage of that let me tell you!).



From my mom, I’ve learned the most important lesson of all: take responsibility for your own health. A few years ago, her doctor told her she needed to watch her blood sugar in order to avoid diabetes. So she overhauled her diet, which was pretty good to start with, switching to all whole grains, fewer carbohydrates and only the occasional sweet. Her blood sugar levels got much better, her energy went up and in the process, she lost 20 lbs. She is a living testament to the Surviving Strong message that taking charge of your body through exercise and diet are the keys to a long, healthy life.

Who could help but look forward to each new age with such lovely examples to follow? Now it’s my turn, and I hope I do half as well as they have done as I try pass these lessons on to my children: stay active, keep your body healthy with exercise and good nutrition and embrace each age with laughter and joy in your heart. Oh, and, don’t forget: (thanks, Grandma, for this one!) eat a little chocolate everyday....especially if it’s birthday cake.

My diet has been healthy for a couple of weeks now and it’s been a surprisingly pleasant experience. This is despite the fact that I was tortured by two birthday cakes within the last 5 days. Amazing as it seems, I resisted temptation and stayed focused on my goal of trimming down and eating healthy.  

As proof, I present Exhibit A, from yesterday's shopping cart:



Impressive, eh?

Yes, tortilla chips ended up in the cart later on, but they were multigrain! And so did creamer for my coffee, but it was the soy stuff—Which, to my surprise, does NOT taste (completely) like Elmer's Glue.

Oh, okay, a couple of boxes of my old nemesis, Wheat Thins, jumped in, too, when my back was turned. I guess they knew the kids needed a snack for school.

And, yes, while the kids and I were singing Happy Birthday to my husband, I did have a brief hallucination that I was diving into a pool full of Boston Cream Pie. The important thing is that I didn’t actually do it, right?

What’s kept me strong is the fact that 1. my energy has been good and steady 2. my daily cravings for a quick fix of sugar and carbs have lessened and 3. I’ve seen the positive reward of having lost over 4 lbs (yippee!). I feel good, I'm seeing progress and taking it one day at a time.

Now if I can just get through my OWN birthday in a couple of weeks! Anyone know a good recipe for hummus cake?

I have every right to hate my running partner. First off, she’s got a supermodel name: Lexi with an "i". La Di Da. She’s a natural blond with high cheekbones, gorgeous brown eyes and a svelte figure with curves in all the right places. She can—and does—eat anything she gets hold of and doesn’t gain an ounce. And to top it all off, her legs go on forever. All four of them. But she’s so darn sweet and such an enthusiastic and encouraging running companion, that I don’t even mind that she’s always flirting with my husband.

As for me, well, I’m an Excessively Normal 40-Something Mom. Not skinny or health club lean, but not blubby, either. I’m stuck in the middle. I’m a bit taller than average, my fingernails break if I so much as breath on them, my wardrobe says "she has multiple children" and my hair never stays brushed. Doesn’t sound glamorous, I know, but that’s not my goal in life. My goal is to be happy and have a happy family. So far, so good! No complaints here. Life is nice.

Oh, okay, there’s this one annoying issue that I just can’t get on top of: my diet, or to be more p.c., my "Nutritionally Healthy Lifestyle." Ick, doesn’t that sound dreadfully tedious? How about we refer to it as "My Ability to Put Down the Box of Cookies and Pick Up a Banana­."

Like so many other "normal" moms, I try to do all the right things to take care of myself. I work out regularly. I even run a couple of half marathons and do a couple of triathlons a year. I also try to eat healthy food. I eat plenty of veggies, lean meat, whole grains, I avoid soda, blah blah, blah.

But, unfortunately, I also enjoy eating. Now, there’s nothing wrong with that in and of itself, but too often I partake in "recreational eating"—eating when I’m bored, happy, sad, watching tv, avoiding laundry—you get the picture. It’s a skill I, and many other teenage girls, mastered after school while watching Luke and Laura on General Hospital. Who could help but eat a whole row of Oreos while watching that car crash of a relationship? I could get away with it back then. I was on the crew team and we practiced twice a day and on the weekends. I couldn’t eat enough to keep weight on.

But lives, and metabolisms, change. Now I am the mom of four with a very full plate (pun intended) that includes working part-time, going back to school and occasionally attempting to have a moderately clean house. For a mom, there are no sick days, vacation days or overtime pay. Food is quick comfort to someone who is always on call and needs a little fun and only a nanosecond to find it. Yes, over the years I’ve gotten better at eating healthy. But those "bad foods," with names like Pepperidge Farm and Hershey’s, still call to me to the point where I have been about 20lbs over "wedding weight" since my last child was born five years ago.

Now, it’s not horrible carrying 20 extra pounds—there are a gazillion worse problems to have than that. And I really wouldn’t mind it much if I felt it was the best I could do and if I couldn’t remember just how good my body felt with a little less baggage. But I do remember. I want to feel that lightness, that ability run for miles on autopilot, enjoying the scenery and feeling the strength of my legs. And I want to run fast again. I may be an Excessively Normal 40-Something Mom, but I want to kick butt at my next half marathon in April. (And, btw, I also want to wear size 8 pants again. They’re sitting in my closet all snooty and superior. I’ll show them!).

So, here it is. The first month of a new year—the time for fresh starts and setting new goals! (Yeah, yeah, I know it’s the LAST day of the first month of the new year, but cut me some slack. I had to psych myself up for this!) I’m going to fight back against my old eating habits. That doesn’t mean never eating the bad foods again or splurging on a treat. That’s simply unrealistic. But I am going to focus on the food weaknesses I’ve had 40+ years to nurture. Eating at night, overdoing portions, stress/boredom/laundry eating. And I am going to be better at planning meals and snacks so that the choices in the fridge and pantry are healthier. In the process, I plan to drop a couple of bowling balls worth of weight.

It makes me nervous to put this out there for people to see. What if I don’t always pick up the banana? What if I don’t lose the weight, or kick the butt? Guess what? It won’t be the end of the world. I’ll still be happy and I bet I’ll be healthier than when I started. Well *deep breath* and off I go on my quest for health, easier runs and size 8 pants. Just me and my supermodel dog!

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