the first five days

I’ve been skirting around the Paleo lifestyle, eating only REAL foods, for years. As part of my bio-identical hormone journey back in 2012, I cut out all soda and fake sugars, and I have never reintroduced them. Over the years I’ve continued to improve my eating habits, and now I eat about 75-80% clean.

I truly believe what you put in your body directly corresponds to what you get out of it.

So when a friend, and then another friend, and then another friend, told me about Whole30, right at the time I was reevaluating my eating habits, and planning to make improvements, I decided to read the book. I felt like I was being pulled in this direction.

First I bought the Whole30 book on Kindle. I was hooked by the third chapter, so I downloaded It Starts With Food (the author’s first book) on Audible so I could listen to it at the gym, too. I also ordered the hard copy of Whole30 on Amazon, because this is a book you really need to feel, highlight, and refer back to; the information is that good.

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I signed up for the Whole30 Daily emails, and started my journey.

So here I am. Barely a week into my thirty days, and I am realizing my experience is very different from the norm. I can’t identify with what the Daily Whole30 emails say I should be feeling…because I feel great.

Here is my diary of the first five days:

Day 1:

Today was easy. I was prepared mentally prepared to skip my son’s birthday cookie-cake, and I planned out my meals, so the day went smoothly.

I actually had a moment where I thought: this isn’t so hard! Although, I’m sure those words will come back to haunt me.

I found myself very hungry today, so I ate four meals.

The food hangover: I read about the fatigue and the headache, but since I’m a fairly clean eater, and a non-soda drinker, I didn’t expect it really impact me. Ha. Early evening time, a slight nagging headache started, and fatigue set-in.  The headache was nothing major, but it progressed as the night went on, to the point where sought relief via Advil.

The slight fatigue had me in bed reading at 9:30pm, which was actually  great, although highly unusual for this night owl, and I slept like a log.

Day 2:

I woke up with a full-blown hangover headache, diarrhea, and a little cluster of acne on my cheek, but still full of willpower. In fact, I felt like I could do this forever

I made a point to eat a three much larger meals today. It was hard, but I managed to stuff it all in. It made a difference. I was hungry at the appropriate times, satisfied between meals and after dinner.

I also noticed the more water I drank, the more the headache subsided (it was instant relief), and so did the fatigue. I didn’t have the malaise, extreme fatigue or even feel run-down in the way the book described. I mostly just didn’t have the stamina to do my long run, so I cut it short.

The whole food hangover thing was over for me by mid-day, so overall, it lasted less than 24hrs.

Plot Twist: I slipped and fell hard right before bed. My left knee met the hard ceramic tile kitchen floor, and my big toe hit the corner of the kitchen island (which is apparently pretty sharp if you hit it just-so). I spent the rest of the night in the ER.

knee

Needless to say, my sleep was restless.

Day 3:

Although I spent most of the day at the doctor’s office, I managed to stay on track with my food choices. I didn’t have any of the fatigue and the headache was completely gone, and so was the cluster of acne! I did notice, however, that I peed. A lot.

I’m still not hungry in the mornings, but I eat anyway, before coffee, as the book recommends. And I’m sticking to three huge (for me) meals a day.

I don’t have any of the cravings, the mood swings or the fatigue. I feel great. Well. Except for the fractured kneecap thing.

I must add here, that they weighed me at the doctor’s office. I know that is technically cheat, but it was out of my control, it was literally done to me, so I’m not counting it as a cheat. Anyway, I have already lost five pounds. And since the biggest difference between Whole30, and my normal diet is legumes and dairy, I found that very interesting.

Sleep: restless, but I attribute it more to my injury than to my food choices.

Day 4 & 5:

Trucking right along. Again, no cravings, no acne, no headache, no food hangover. The book also says I should be bitchy, angry and questioning my decision…no. no. and no.

What I am questioning, however, is if I am doing this right; so I consulted the forum, and learned that it IS normal for some people to have an easier time with the Whole30 lifestyle, than others. Usually it’s the people who ate mostly clean to begin with –and that’s me. If you don’t count the Talenti and French fries I ate the night before starting this journey.

Still not hungry at breakfast. Still eating before coffee, and within an hour of waking up, like the book says. Still eating three large –but not huge meals a day, because my exercise level is very limited.

Because of my mobility issue, hubs, who is not participating in my Whole30 journey, is doing all the cooking and shopping (thank God for unlimited cell phone minutes). So far, so good. He has mastered our new Instapot (he hasn’t blown his face off, yay), and found a great blog to feed me from nomnompaleo.com.

And my taste buds have awakened! I just ate a peach and I wondered why anyone ever thought adding heavy syrup to peaches was a good idea –they are so sweet and delicious by themselves!

Sleep: still sucks. And still attributing it to sleeping with an immobilizer-cast.

cast

I’m not missing the half and half in my coffee, which I figured would be the hardest part of this journey. Coconut milk is different, but not bad. I want to try coconut cream so I’ve ordered it from Amazon (some things hubs just can’t find), and it will be here tomorrow (thank you Prime)…I’ll keep you posted.

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i want to have running bling like flavor flav

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I just found out I was selected to support and promote the Mississippi Blues Marathon as part of the #BlueCrew. Whoo-hoo I’m so excited!

I wanted to support and promote the 2016 Mississippi Blues Marathon because:

  1. I’m planning to run it with my friend Stephanie; we heard (repeatedly) while we were running another half marathon (weird, I know), that we should have run the Mississippi Blues Marathon, because it was the premier running event in Mississippi.
  2. I loved running in Mississippi. It was very challenging for this Florida girl, because of all the hills and hills and hills. (I just hated the May humidity and heat. This Florida girl runs in a/c.)
  3. It supports a good cause: the local blues musician’s benevolent fund.
  4. There is live music on-course. Always a plus because I hate running with earbuds.
  5. Chocolate milk at the finish line.
  6. And last but not least, I heard the medal is approx. 2lbs of bling fabulousness. (And it was ranked in the top 25 Finisher’s Medals by Marathon & Beyond Magazine several years in a row.)

The Mississippi Blues Marathon takes place on January 9th, in Jackson, Mississippi. You can choose the full 26.2mi, the half 13.1mi, the relay, the Quarter Note 10.5k, or the Back2Back which includes the First Light marathon in Mobile Alabama the next day. For more information click here.  And if you decide to register and join the fun, here is a discount code for $10 off your entry fee: KKMBM16

I hope to see you at the start line in 262 days, 6 hours, and fifty minutes; which should give me enough time to work in some hill training.

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whoa…i think i was just fat shamed

unnamed (9) I made a quick stop at my neighborhood Walmart on the way to the beach today. I purchased SPF 50 lip balm, and a package of dog bones for the two-year old dog my son drove across three states, and then asked me to babysit, for eight months.

As I was standing in the checkout line contemplating changing my new dog’s name, the Walmart cashier asked me: How long have you been running? And I realized my sun visor displayed the words Run Happy. “Oh,” I replied,” several years.” Do you enjoy it? She asked. I laughed, and said something like I didn’t really enjoy doing it while I was doing it, but I was always glad I had done it when it was over.

Then the cashier said…If you have enough discipline to make yourself do something you don’t like to do, like run, then why don’t you just discipline yourself, and control what you eat; then you won’t have to exercise to lose weight?

I almost couldn’t process what she said fast enough, before I heard my mouth responding…

“So you are assuming then, that I have a poor diet, and I only run to control my weight, and that I want or need to lose weight, is that correct? Maybe I run to control my blood pressure, or to control anxiety and depression, or for a stronger immune system and healthy bones, or because heart disease runs in my family. Maybe running is how I deal with stress. Exercise is a part of my life, and it has nothing to do with my diet. For me, it is not one or the other, it is both. So please don’t project your negative assumptions on me.”

As I left Walmart, I realized, I was fat-shamed. I’m not skinny. I’m aware of that. But I AM very fit, and healthy and strong. And I work hard every single day to feel good about my middle-aging body. I am my own worst critic, I assure you; I constantly have to remind myself that my forty-eight year old body has seen a lot of life, and birthed three babies, and carried me through seven half-marathons, and up mountains and through endless bicycle rides. Do I wish I looked like a runner? Hells yes! But I’m not less of a runner because I don’t look like one. Would I like to be thinner? Absolutely! But I’m not willing to do what it takes (for me) to maintain a size 4/6; I don’t want to be miserable and never eat Talenti or cupcakes, and starve myself. I want to enjoy food. And guess what? I’m just as healthy now, at a size 8/10, as I was when I was a size 4/6 (extra perk: people don’t try to feed me now).

After Walmart I met my girlfriend at the beach, where we sat for four hours in the sun…and I wore a bikini, in public, for the first time ever. And we talked about dog names.

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feeling unstuck.

Last month I drove to Jackson Mississippi.  I found it after a missed turn, a frantic phone call and a bunch of tears on the side of the road in Mobile.

I went to Mississippi to run the Magnolia Meltdown half marathon with my sweet, very fit and much younger (as in I have a son her age) friend, Stephanie.  The MM was Steph’s first half marathon, and I talked her into it. She had not run since the Turkey Trot in elementary school, and she made it very clear to me and everyone within earshot that running was not her favorite thing. I promised her it would be addictive. She assured me that it would not be.

Before the run.

Before the run.

I never realized Mississippi was so hot in May. And who knew it was so hilly?

At mile six Steph was bouncing around me like the Energizer bunny and I felt like Carol Burnett wearing curtains. I begged her to run ahead, convincing her that running was an individual sport, and promising her that I still liked my husband, even though we ran the last seven half-marathons separately.

Finally, Steph agreed to run ahead of me, and I threw up.

Eighty-four degrees and a hundred percent humidity tends to have that effect on me. I hid in the bushes and puked on a tree. Puking for me is a major event, and I didn’t want anyone around. Especially someone I knew. I yell, er, scream, actually. Cry a minute. Probably more of a wail , really. I dance around and squirm, and up and out it comes.

Fortunately, I was near a medical tent so I asked for mouth wash, and I only told them I had a bad taste in my mouth. I couldn’t risk being pulled off the course for heat illness, or I’d never get the medal.

I rinsed my mouth out, and kept going. It rained, then it got super hot. I plowed on. Miserable as F&%k.

At mile ten-ish I puked again. Same routine; dancing, squirming, wailing. Thankfully, I had a half bottle of the travel-sized mouthwash left, and some privacy.

At this point my muscles were cramping and my head was pounding and I was in pretty bad shape. I  had a minute of rational thought,  and it was then that I decided to walk up to the next race official I saw, and ask to be pulled off the course.

But just as I saw the race official,  I rounded the corner and saw the rest of the course too, and it was all downhill. In the shade. And there was a water station.

Thoughts of the big-ass Magnolia medal crept in to replace all of my rational thoughts, and I decided I could walk two and a half miles. Shit, that’s like. Nothing. 

So I kept going. I got my medal. And I PR’d.

After the run. Sporting our medals.

After the run. Sporting our medals.

Steph was waiting for me at the finish line. She knew something was wrong with me, even though I crossed the finish line earlier than expected…she had that friend-intuition thing going on. After a ton of water, electrolytes, a little vodka, some Willie Nelson, a couple ibuprofen and shoeless-ness, I was fine.

I got the huge-ass Magnolia medal to add to my collection, and I can wear the t-shirt with pride; so it was all worth it. Sort of.

Yesterday Steph texted me.

WE. As in ME.

WE. As in ME.

In the rest of the text I reminded Steph that Mississippi tried to kill me. And she reminded me that it isn’t hot in Mississippi, in January. Yeah Steph, but it’s still hilly.

Looks like I’ll be headed to Mississippi for the Blues half marathon. Good thing I know where Mississippi is. Now.

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heeeyyyooooo what’s new?

Long time, no see! I know. It’s me not you. I haven’t been here for a while.

Let’s catch up.

I went for a run in the middle of the day once, and stopped at a bar along the way (all sweaty and gross) to meet my friend for a liquid lunch.

liquid lunch Tuesday

liquid lunch Tuesday

I played with chalk markers on my new DIY kitchen chalkboard.

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving

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Christmas

I updated my Apple devices. (seriously, this has become too frequent…get your $hit together Apple!)

iPad v iPhone

iPad v iPhone

I cheered up my friend after her break-up, with inappropriate memes.

She doesn't.

She doesn’t.

I binge-watched the first season of Archer. Or maybe it was called Arrow? Anyway, it was seriously good y’all. Not super comic-bookie.  (and just search “Ar” on Netflix, you’ll find it)
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We decorated for Christmas, and put up our 28th Christmas tree.

Hubs hanging ornaments and lights in a tree full of bees.

Hubs hanging ornaments and lights in a tree full of bees.

I went small this year.

I went small & Pinteresty this year.

I shopped.

Merry Christmas to me.

Merry Christmas to me.

I addressed my annual Christmas photo cards with gel pens, and added stickers and pretty seasonal stamps.
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I gathered photos from 2014, for our annual family memory book.

This was the photo my 18yr old contributed.

This was the photo my 18yr old contributed.

I checked in regularly with my twenty-seven year old.
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My twenty-three year old son finally identified with me.
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imageI baked a lot of bread. Not because I’m Amish or anything (I used a bread maker). I’m just becoming more aware of what’s in my food.
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My 2015 Erin Condren Planner arrived in the mail (with extra goodies and stickers too)

Personalized. Beautiful.

Personalized. Beautiful.

I filled a test tube with spit. (harder than it sounds, trust me)
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I’m still growing my new business, and I finally finished my home office.

The finishing touch.

The finishing touch.

And I learned my elf name is Cookie McJingles.

So now you’re all caught up with me. What’s new with you?

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from molly to carly in four hours

We had our second annual Wild Turkey Open House yesterday.

imageOur house opened at one, and by two-thirty, nobody was here. Seriously. Nobody. I felt like I was in a Molly Ringwald movie.

But then the peeps started to trickle in, the Wild Turkey 101 started to flow, and by the end of the night (or 6:30PM) I was dancing around with the dogs, singing Carly Simon’s “You’re So Vain” into a hair brush. By eight o’clock I was in bed…feeling thankful for good friends, good music, and my good Olivia Garden hair brush.

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i know the secret

I  found out how to be an amazing mother. I mean, after all the years of changing more diapers than I can count, all the sleepless nights, struggling to feed my kids balanced meals, taking them to soccer, basketball and t-ball practice, monitoring their grades, refereeing their fights, and setting curfews…all it took was a simple mid-day trip to the DMV.

Who f&%king knew?!

SCORE!

I am an amazing mother y’all. Whew.  I am so relieved. 

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Yes. That’s me.

 

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a memory lane detour

I took a trip down Memory Lane last week. Not purposely.

It was the kind of Memory Lane trip you take when you’re avoiding doing what you’re supposed to be doing, that you really didn’t want to do. Anyway.

Yeah. That.

I couldn’t help it. I stumbled across a big HUGE folder, made to look like an art portfolio, and the ribbon was clearly tied carefully by small hands.

Since We haven’t had small hands in this house for many years, I obviously couldn’t help myself. It was like a shiny object screaming at me LOOK! LOOK! Only it was more valuable than a shiny object. Because I loved those small hands. So I had to take the trip.

The make-shift portfolio harbored my twenty-hang-on-while-I-grab-the-calculator… Three. Twenty-three. Year old son’s “best” art from the fourth grade.

This one was my favorite.

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Naked. People.

I thought this one was pretty awesome too.

He enjoyed freedom from chains…?

He could relate because…?

And then I became every cliché in The Book. I grabbed a box of Kleenex, and I started talking to the dogs (don’t judge, I was home alone)…

I can still picture that fun-loving, body-curious ten-going-on-thirty year old boy in my head like it was yesterday. I can’t believe it’s been thirteen years (I did THAT math in head) already.

Now he is all grown up and he knows what girls look like naked, and he doesn’t care about being free (uh, from chains).

The dogs stared at me. And then walked away.

And I never finished doing what I was supposed to be doing, that I really didn’t want to do. Anyway.

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happy ordinary day

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My husband likes his birthday to be “quiet and low-key, just like any other day.”

And since low-key and quiet doesn’t come naturally to me (I spend a week celebrating my birthday yo) I spent years pushing his birthday-boundary, planning surprise parties, and forcing birthday dinners on him. And the parties and dinners always sucked. As I write this the words disastrous and uncomfortable immediately come to mind…

Anyway.

Over the last several years I wised up. Probably because of aging and all the wisdom that comes with it. Yep. I got birthday wise. And now I just believe him. I know he is happy to do what he wants, and I am happy he is happy, on his (seriously blah) birthday.

On normal weekend days Hubs goes paddle boarding or golfing. So this year when I noticed he had loaded his clubs in the back of his VW, I didn’t think anything of it…I figured he planned to go golfing on his day of birth, after we ran errands.

Normal and boring.

So we left the house early with our list of errands.

First up, new running shoes for me. Four stores later, I found the right fit in an acceptable color (I am not wearing black running shoes. They make me look like the lunchroom lady).

Next was a furniture store; I needed new furniture for my home office (a just-right desk, a comfy desk chair, and a comfy-cheery sleeper chair).

As we left the furniture store a few thousand dollars later, our errand run was interrupted by a phone call from our eighteen year old son. He called and talked to his dad, and told him his car was dead.

Hubs said four words to me: Nic’s car is dead. And then he did a quick freak-out chair dance because he doesn’t know how to fix cars..and he doesn’t do well with vehicular-hiccups. Hubs just kept shaking his head and mumbling “we bought a brand new it-will-survive-a-nuclear-bomb-Toyota so this wouldn’t happen. What could be wrong with it?”

And I quickly went in to problem-solver mode. I did math. I determined the car was still under warranty, and that soothed Hubs a little bit. Then I asked Hubs to tell me exactly what our son said…you know, like what led up to the car’s death..? And the only three words Hubs could recall from the entire fifteen minute conversation with our son…? My. Car. Died.

Seriously? You didn’t ask why? I’m so glad our son isn’t bleeding.

I called our kid and in two minutes I learned that he had spent an hour and a half in the car with the radio and a/c running…but not the engine. B-I-N-G-O

Hubs was back to his coherent and happy self. We drove home to get supplies. Then we drove across town to the college to jump-start (or whatever that is called) our son’s car.

Then we went to the grocery store. The last line-item on our list of errands.

By the time we got home it was late in the day and nearly dark, courtesy of falling back an hour. Hubs’ afternoon of golf was not in the cards.

As I watched Hubs unload his golf clubs from the trunk of his car, I kind of felt sad for him…for a like second. Afterall, this was just a normal day. Quiet and low-key. Exactly what he wanted.

Happy birthday Hubs.

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Spider Power

Today, Hubs and I were driving in the car, on the way home from the grocery store…

Me: I’ve been having really vivid dreams lately. Like with babies and spiders.

Hubs: I’m sure you’re just tired. You’ve had a lot going on lately.

Me: No. Really. I’ve been dreaming a lot about spiders. And we had a baby in my dream last night.

Hubs totally changed the subject, and after a little while he swatted at empty air in front of him…like a ninja driver.

Me: What are you doing?

Hubs: It felt like a spider web just blew into my face.

Me: Huh. Well, your car is probably infested with black widow spiders and they’re building nests and webs in your car.

Hubs: Don’t be silly, black widows can’t live in a car. It’s too hot in Florida.

Me: Yes they can, I read it on the internet. And you probably have a bunch of spider nests in your golf stuff, so the eggs hatched in your car, and now your car is infested. And oh-my-gawd, my dream was a premonition!

Hubs: Don’t be silly. Your dreams are just dreams. I mean, we sure as hell aren’t going to have a baby.

Me: Duh…when you dream about a baby it means death. Holy shit, I’m itchy now.

Hubs (laughing): You’re being a weirdo. Maybe your dream meant that I’m gonna die from a black widow bite.

Me: STOP. That’s not even funny.

About an hour after we got home I heard Hubs rumbling around in the garage…so I looked out the window, and he was hosing down his golf equipment.

Hmmm.

Golf bag caddy.

Golf bag caddy.

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