It's been awhile since I've updated.  I guess it's because there's no news on the weight-loss front.  Things have been WILD at work (yay for an up economy!), so blogging has taken a back seat!  I've still been yo-yo-ing the same 4 pounds since March.  Boo for that.  So, while the scale isn't moving, I've decided to focus on other things.

I committed to doing an Olympic Distance Tri in September.  I found a 12 week training program, which required running, biking, or swimming 4 days/week, then biking and swimming on the 5th day.  I put my gym membership on hold (since it doesn't have a pool), bought myself a cute new tri suit, and rocked Week 1 of the training plan.  And then I came down with a miserable head cold on July 2.  The Friday after July 4th (the end of Week 2), I spent about an hour at work, before giving into the Siren song of my bed.  And I slept for 17 hours (!!!!).  I thought surely that was enough rest, and was still feeling optimistic. The next Tuesday, I went for a quick run.  I ran just under 2 miles, and then spent almost 30 minutes doubled over in my driveway, alternately hacking up a lung or trying to catch my breath.  At that point, I decided to give myself some time off from cardio, to let my lungs rest.  I gave it another week and the cough was still lingering, my co-workers started to comment, so I went to the doctor.  She sent me home with a z-pack and a bronchitis diagnosis.  That killed Weeks 3 and 4 of my training program.  That's when I decided it was time to face reality, that even at 100%, I wasn't going to be able to train for an Olympic Tri in 7 weeks.  But, after 3 weeks of little-to-no activity (remember, my gym membership was on hold, so I couldn't go lift), I'm feeling soft and slow.  I've only put on one pound above my normal 170-174 yo-yo, but now I'm holding at 175 even, and my pants and getting snug.  So, I went for a (short, slow) run last night, and was finally able to breathe again.  Hooray!

Since my gym is on hold until October, I decided to try working out with a trainer that my hair stylist recommended.  Tomorrow is my first session, and I'm SUPER excited.  I met with them for an initial consultation, and she's had 3 PCOS clients before me.  She knows a lot about my disease, and is excited to work with me.  Before I met with her, I tried to spend some time thinking about what to tell her that my goals are, where I came from, and what I'm working towards.  I was telling a co-worker, as I flipped through (fitness and fashion) magazines looking for my "goal," that I think part of the reason I've lost focus right now (besides the failed tri!) is that I don't have a defined goal.  I haven't found an old picture of myself, nothing in a magazine, no number on a scale... nothing that I can have in my head as something to work towards.  I feel GREAT about how I look right now, about how I feel, how fast I can run, how heavy I can lift.  The only thing I want to change is my "dunlop" gut, and since I can't see that 99% of my day, I tend to forget about it.  When I look in the mirror, though, I don't see "problem areas" like so many women do.  I see, "hey, that all looks average," and not good or bad.  So, my co-worker and I decided that we should both be mindful or working towards "better," but we both agreed that we don't really know what that looks like for us, but hope we will know when we get there!

Which brings me to the other things I've been focusing on lately... my munchkin.  The other day, I was on the floor, and she was climbing all over me, and she jiggled my belly, and said, "Oh, Momma's fat," I think.  I couldn't tell if it was "fat" or "flat," so I asked her to repeat it.  Only, I couldn't understand which one the second time, either.  Which got me to thinking... I've NEVER used negative language, about myself, about others, in private, nor in front of her.  I have no idea where she picked up that kind of idea, if indeed she was saying "fat".  So, I am challenging myself to speak highly of her and of myself any chance that I get, and not just appearance based!  I want to give her a positive self-image before society gets a chance to tear it down.  The other morning, I offered to paint her toenails, and I said, "Come on, let's go paint our nails," and she said, "why are we doing it?" (I'm guessing she meant why aren't we going for pedicures) and I said, "Because momma wants to do it.  Momma's good at painting nails, you know.  Momma's good at everything."  The Hubs was a bit taken aback (I may have heard him snicker in another room), but Kidlet seemed to like that answer.  And the next day, I explained to the Hubs what I was doing, and he was entirely supportive. 

Two other things have recently happened that have further affirmed that my hard work is worth it.  First, a friend and I went to a pole dancing workshop (LOL!).  I did my normal look around, to see if I was the biggest in the room (the answer to that used to be yes).  I was pleasantly average (there's that word again!).  So imagine my surprise when it was time to get on the pole, and I realized that, with the exception of the teacher, I was the strongest in the class.  The ladies who were larger than me were all moaning and groaning about how hard it was.  And the ladies who were smaller were politely moving themselves around with a grimace on their face.  But I dove in with reckless abandon (as I usually do) and kept thinking how easy it was!

The second thing is that I took the Munchkin ice skating.  The last time I took someone skating was probably 5 (or more) years ago, when I was at my heaviest.  We took my "cousins" and I wanted to cry by the end of our second lap.  I was sweating, out of breath, all of my muscles were tired, I wasn't having any fun... it was miserable.  That trip made me feel terrible about myself, and made me question if I could have kids in the shape I was in, since I couldn't keep up.  However, as we all know, it took more than that to get my booty into gear!  So, my daughter has been asking me to take her skating for a few months, ever since she saw a figure skating competition one day, when my dad was channel-surfing.  We finally went last week.  I kitted her out with pants, thick socks, and mittens, fully prepared to spend about 6 minutes on the ice.  Well.  She took to it like a fish to water, and we spent an entire hour on the ice!  We stopped for lunch, and she pestered me the entire time, "can we go ice skating as soon as I eat?"  It was absolutely precious!  And the icing on the cake was that it was easy for me.  I was sweating from head to toe, but I wasn't out of breath, I wasn't tired, my muscles weren't shaking... I didn't even realize we had been out there an hour, and could have gone for several more!  It was an amazing feeling. 

I tried to find a photo from last time to compare, but I couldn't
This was quite the workout!!!