Accountabilibuddies…And No, I Didn’t Just Make That One Up

Food challenges.  The story of my life.  Let me tell you, it can totally SUCK being, shall we say, “vertically challenged”?  What I wouldn’t give to have just a few more inches in the height department so these pounds I carry were just a smitch more spread out.  But thanks to genetics – aka short parents – there’s not a whole lot I can do about it.  Short of taking out a circus stilt walker and making a run for it.

Maybe not THIS particular stilt walker.

Maybe not THIS particular stilt walker.

Seeing as Mother Nature and I have to agree to disagree on the whole “wish I was taller” thing, I have to wave the white flag on it and move on.  To what I stuff down my yap.  Just like the lovelies at Prairie Princess Runners and Rae at Darlin’ Rae.  We’ve all come to the not-so-surprising conclusion that in order to fight our ever tightening waistbands, we need to be accountable to someone other than ourselves.  Now I’m pretty good at keeping my eating under control.  I don’t eat oversized portions and I don’t fill up on a lot of crap.  One or two mini peanut butter cups at the end of the day are just enough to satisfy my sweet cravings.  I may or may not sneak in one or two Kisses after lunch if they’re around, but I don’t HAVE to have them or face possible chocolate meltdown.

Must...have...chocolate...

Must…have…chocolate.

My culinary hangup? PASTA.  Any shape, any size, served with anything on it, over it, under it.  In a bowl, on a plate, off the ground, or out of the Wonder Mutt’s dog bowl – I DON’T CARE. Give it to me.  GIVE IT ALL TO ME.  NOW.

MINE! nomnomnom...

MINE! nomnomnom…

This pasta obsession of mine has to be brought under control.  I have no idea where it’s even coming from, except I’m starting to think there’s a hidden pasta gene in my makeup somewhere that someone has conveniently forgotten to inform me of.  I’m convinced more than ever I was adopted.  Probably from a family with a lot of i’s and o’s in their last name.

Since it’s always easier to drag someone else kicking and screaming on your trip to make-me-stop-eating-all-the-food-everywhere-land, (because why go it alone?), I’m stringing together some linguini and reigning in this insanity with Lisa and Rae; my…wait for it…….ACOUNTABILIBUDDIES!   Together we shall overcome!  What, I don’t really know.  But we’ll do it.  Together. One for all and all for noodles. Oh damn.

chewsday

Feel free to join us on our journey as we navigate canyons of cookies, sinkholes of sugar, and oodles of noodles.  Post your smart food choices on Instagram, Twitter, or Facebook using #Chewsday.  Who knows?  Maybe you guys can be our mouth monitors and guilt us into not stuffing that insane serving spoon-sized pile of pasta down our yaps.  Or at least make us feel supremely guilty about it if we do.

Check out our progress at PrairiePrincessRunners.com, DarlinRae.com, and of course right here, at BlackDogRunsDisney.com.  Or hook up with us on Twitter at @PrincessRunners, @RaeisaDarlin or @Vixen1267.  I know, I know.  I haven’t figured out yet how to switch everything over to a blog-appropriate Twitter thingie yet.  I’m a numbnuts like that.

Enjoy the ride.

Do you find being accountable to someone else helps you meet your food/fitness goals!

Think A Touch of OCD Can Get You To Your Goals?

For as long as I can remember, I’ve always been a bit OCD about tracking my workouts. Not that I was obsessive about WHAT I was tracking, just that I did. I think it must have something to do with hating to see an empty box.

#fillalltheboxes

#fillalltheboxes

Even if it’s just an off day, I think if I start seeing too many, it gets the dupa to the gym or out on the road again, even if the couch is trying to sing it’s siren song.  Every successful weight loss program I’ve ever seen encourages you to track every bite of food, including how hungry you are at the time, as well as how you may be feeling emotionally.  It is believed you can begin to see patterns which may identify stressors causing you to stuff your yap.  My workout stressors?  Simple.  Clothes that don’t fit.

What I think I look like.  Hmmm....

What I think I look like. Hmmm….

As I donned a pair of capri pants this weekend, (why I don’t know, I HATE those damn things), my great mood at being in party central USA, quickly took a nose dive when I could barely move in them without feeling like the seams were going to explode.  What better motivation then to get the dupa out of bed this morning and get my booze-soaked, gut-stuffed body parts to the gym.

Ok, ok.  I'm getting up.

Ok, ok. I’m getting up.

Even though I’m pretty good at working out when I travel, it never seems as quality a workout as when I’m at home.  I’m sure it’s just another one of my mental OCD things, but I’m pretty sure once I cross the Broward County line, my cells call a meeting to order and the order goes out to retain all the water, fat cells, and miscellaneous crap they’re capable of before imminent combustion.

Keep EVERYTHING!

Keep EVERYTHING! Got it?

As my goal of filling every page of my little bible continues, (minus the 4 month-long non-running torture period), you can bet I’ll be doing everything in my power to fit into those ugly grey capris to the point where they will actually be – dare I say it? – TOO BIG.  Will I get there?  Who knows.  But you can bet your dupa I’ll be fighting the forces of Mother Nature with every squat, crunch, pushup, and plank these jiggly, shaky, jelly belly body parts can muster.  I have every intention of making THIS look easy.

Okay, maybe not.  But a girl can dream, can't she?

Okay, maybe not. But a girl can dream, can’t she?

 

Enjoy the ride.

Do you track your workouts?  Do you find it keeps you on track and helps you reach your food/fitness goals?

 

Vacation Temptations and Scary Taste Bud Adventures

In a few days, I’ll be checking one more place off my travel bucket list.

Whoo hoo!

Whoo hoo!

We usually plan our trips about a year ahead of time, (makes it a little easier to budget for essentials like food, booze, food, booze, food, booze, and, um, oh yeah, ice cream).

Now THAT'S what I'm talkin' about.

Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about.

Pretty, isn’t it?

However, like any normal weight-watching person, vacations always present a special challenge.  And for someone like me – you know, one of those annoying types who don’t even use normal, everyday black pepper on ANYTHING – a trip to the world’s capital of Cajun cooking is going to present more than the normal amount of cuisinarious (?) challenges.

Ouch!

Ouch!

That being said, I’m always up for trying new foods – as long as they aren’t pain inducing.  One of my favorite pre-vacay time killers is to peruse menus of local restaurants and see what gastronomic delights my ever-expanding waistline will be welcoming.  As my travelling companions are all meat-obsessed carnivores, great steakhouses are typically on the agenda.  Thankfully though, I’m always able to find something to satisfy my finicky palate.  As long as there’s a good bottle of red wine and an ice cream scoop lying around in the kitchen somewhere, all is good in Black Dog Land.

NO 1

The goal is to actually eat enough shrimp that I’ll eventually have a slight pinkish hue and sprout my very own little flappy tail.  Provided of course, that I don’t end up on somebody’s plate.

Hi there!

Hi there!

I’m quite familiar with the old saying of everything in moderation  and I am going to try to keep that in mind over the next few days as I’m surrounded by beignets, praline pecans, and New Orleans libations.  Well, maybe not.  Had you for a second there, didn’t I?  Yeah, c’mon admit it!

Really.! I'll be good....

Really! I’ll be good.  Promise!

Wherever my appetite escapades may lead me this weekend, you can be sure I will torture you with each and every one of them on social media, along with the appropriate facial responses.  Or not.

Yum Dog1

Either way, feel free to social media stalk me this weekend as I run, eat, and drink my way around the city.  Who knows, I may even run into THIS guy.

streetdude

 

Enjoy the ride.

Do you always try the local cuisine on vacation or look for the nearest McDonald’s?

Ice Cream and Chocolate and Pasta, Oh My!

Those, in a nutshell, are what I consider the three basic food groups.  Okay, maybe not, but don’t you think they should be?  Where exactly is the justice in the foods that taste the super yummiest have to be so bad for you?  It’s not fair!  It’s horse hockey!  I’m not gonna take it anymore!!!!

Waaaaaaahhhhhh!!!!!

Waaaaaaahhhhhh!!!!!

All right.  Now that I got THAT out of my chocolate and Moose Tracks deprived system, let’s get down to the nitty-gritty of stuffing your yap.  It’s simple.  It’s hard, it’s challenging, and it can totally suck when you open up the freezer and see your ever-loving hubby has once again brought home a container of ice cream and restocked the peanut butter cups.  What fresh hell is this?! you may ask yourself.  Or not.  I do.  OFTEN.

cat stress

I typically start out the day with good intentions.  A healthy breakfast, healthy snacks, and what is becoming a daily refusal for that large, chewy, fresh-baked, OMG-now-I’m-drooling-just-thinking-about-it chocolate chip cookie from my favorite deli.  The occasional side trip into french fry land, (especially the curly and smiley kind), has become REALLY occasional as of late.  But as we all know, you can follow calorie counts, “diet” (geesh I hate that word) plans, or dietary changes until our brains see nothing but numbers when we look at our food.  And try as we might, the number on the scale, or the fit of our clothes, just does not change – often resulting in above noted feline facial manifestation.  In other words, we suffer from that completely exasperated expression which cause our significant others to suddenly find any excuse to have to go check out the front end alignment on their car.

What is it about our metabolism, especially as we hit those blasted 40’s, that causes everything to come to a screeching halt?  Is this Mother Nature’s idea of a really bad practical joke?  According to Wiki Answers, the average life span of a woman in America is 79 years old.  Seems a little off to me as I live in the mecca of all things senior here in south FLA, but who am I to question statistics?  Even if that is accurate, why do our bodies feel the need to start slowing down only halfway through the game?  Do you start kicking your pace back at mile 6 of a half marathon or mile 13 of a full?  Why would you?  There’s still a lot of ground to cover!  Knock it off cellular degeneration!  I’m not through with that mitochondria just yet!

cartoon-t-cell-hi

All of this human biology kind of stuff leaves me wondering…..why do some people have the ability to eat just about anything and kick out a mile like there’s nothing to it?  Especially when short, dumpy, vertically challenged types like me, who try to follow all the dietary rules as much as humanly possible, struggle to finish their runs somewhere before the end the current decade?  Why can’t we ALL have those super hero genetics???  Who’s in charge here?  I want to lodge a complaint!

As science has never really been my “thing”, all I can do is try to keep up with the brainiac types and hope that what they tell me about fruit, veggies, protein, and “good” carbs is all true.  At least for the moment.  Seems like they can’t make up their minds and stick with it for longer than it takes me to choke down a piece of asparagus.  Every day presents its gastronomic challenges and it seems to only keep getting more complicated.  So I propose this.  Mother Nature takes back her practical joke and creates everyone with the same metabolism.  Chocolate, ice cream, and spaghetti become our three major food groups and no animal ever has to die in order to feed another.  Pizza becomes the perfect breakfast food and wine and margaritas become necessary for proper hydration.  And to make the hubby happy, animal-free bacon no longer affects your cholesterol, blood pressure, or waistline.  We’ll all live to be a hundred but look like we’re twenty.  No one runs a half marathon in more than two hours or a full in more than three.  And our dogs live as long as we do.  But find a way to use the bathroom like the rest of us.  Who’s with me?!

Ooh! Ooh! Pick me! Pick me!

Ooh! Ooh! Pick me! Pick me!

 

Enjoy the ride.

Do you find your body reacting to food differently as you age?  Have you changed your eating habits over the years because of it?