ePiscoSours

Why did nobody warn me that a runner’s high could turn into a bad trip?!

My trainer last week suggested that for motivation, when I run I should imagine my heavier self chasing me. Let’s say he’s ravenously hungry and wants to eat me. Luckily, he can only run in 2-minute bursts max. Since I’m up to 10-1 cycles this week, I could theoretically easily outrun my former self, right? Due to an overactive imagination, however, I kinda creeped myself out running in the rain today.

It didn’t help when my iPod started screaming at me, “WE ONLY GOT FOUR MINUTES TO SAVE THE WORLD!!!!” I get spooked, flight response goes into overdrive, but hey, I posted my best distance/time today, so it did work.

Running does in fact get easier and more fun if you keep up with it for six weeks. I also highly recommend keeping your iPod charged and getting a technical shirt instead of running in a cotton T-shirt. (Mother Julie, I’m sure, will immensely appreciate that last bit when I go to Mass at the National Cathedral tomorrow immediately after my group run.)

I’ve also gotten a goal weight from my doctor: 180 pounds. 30-odd to go! LDLs are a little high for some reason, but my HDLs are edging up also and nearing 60 mg/dL. It’s a mixed bag.

The one to my cousin’s wedding reception, that is. But, conveniently, I’ll be away on vacation. Everyone is satisfied. Manners have been restored.

I’ll just get the happy couple something nice from their registry and forget this whole thing ever happened.

At 219.6 pounds, according to the BMI guidelines (which admittedly have problems, but everyone else uses ‘em so I will too), I’m no longer obese.

I will now crank up “Mercy” from the post below and begin the Booty Dance of Narrower Booty. Or go for a run in a couple hours, the next best thing.

UPDATE: I also ran a 9-2-9-2-8 series today; yep, I ran for 26 out of 30 minutes. It’s not even noon yet, but even so…

Lachlan introduced me to my new favorite British soulstress, Duffy:

Enjoy the weekend!

Helen Mosher has tagged me for a five-books meme.

Thing is, the only book I’m currently reading (and even then only sporadically) is Richard Dawkins’s The Ancestor’s Tale.

What about you guys?

UPDATE: Oops! Rereading now, I see I was supposed to take sentences 6-8 on page 123 of the ONE book I was currently reading and… yeah, it’s after 11pm on a Friday night. I don’t have a brain right now.

Anyway, the answer is:

Tree sloths are tailless, like the marsupial koalas who might be regarded as their Australian equivalents, and both move slowly in the trees like lorises.

In Borneo and Sumatra, the long-tailed macaque lives up trees, while the closely related pig-tailed macaque lives on the ground and has a short tail. Monkeys that are active in trees usually have long tails.

I was not invited to a cousin’s wedding reception, after his mother asked me for my address so she could invite me.

And on top of that, the Sperm Donor is having surgery for polyps and no one bothered to tell me that either until just now. No surprise there. He’s basically committing slow suicide by eating and has been for the last 15 years, so let me pull out the NanoViolin 2000 here for his stupid polyps and his self-inflicted diabetes and be the first to sing, “Put the Super Double Big Gulp down, tubby.”

There are two reasons why I’m still not for universal health care, and the first one is that I’m resentful my tax dollars are treating his diabetes.

I’ll pray for his recovery the same as I would for any human being undergoing sickness, but I honestly can’t make myself care beyond that.

No word on the Incubator. Just as well.

It was a packed weekend. I reached my 10% weight-loss goal, for starters. I did a 7-3 run/walk for 30 minutes, and ended up cooling down by walking for 15 minutes since I was overshot my halfway point. The PiscoSister showed up for dinner at Bilbo’s; she got the crab cake, I got the cedar-planked salmon, and we both shared the coconut crème brulée, because what’s the point of being on a diet if you can never ever have a good dessert?

Today I was a lector for the first time at my parish and pronounced “Beroea” correctly, then I made like a bakery truck and hauled buns to see Fr. Rob in action. (Thanks again for the warm welcome, Padre!) Came back, napped, cleaned up a bit and I’ve got a load of laundry sudsing up now.

I’ve been eating like a madman but feel a bit lightheaded, like I haven’t eaten enough. Odd. I think ramen is called for.

I’m trying to figure out what my final goal weight would be. There are five possibilities, and I’m torn among all of them:

• 200 lbs., which is eminently doable. Maybe too easily so.
• 196.8 lbs., which would be a precisely 20% loss.
• 187 lbs., which is the point where I become normal weight according to the BMI tables (and we all know how accurate BMI is, right?).
• 175 lbs., just because.
• Whenever I fit into size 32 pants.

I rather think I’m just going to take each goal in order, and when I feel like stopping I will.

What did you do this weekend?

I took vector calculus and I had no idea that a ∇ symbol was called a “nabla.”

Your daily Scrabble word and winning Who Wants To Be A Millionaire questions all in one small post. You can thank me later.