Bridge Over Troubled Water

I came across this photo on a friend's Facebook page and thought it might be something good to share.

I am once again at a point in my life where I must decide which path to take--having to live my life five months at a time isn't as exciting as it may seem. It's three months of ignorant bliss and then two months of sheer panic and stress. I'm hoping my next bridge covers a little more ground than that. And doesn't fall apart like that bridge in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.

I know I'm not the only one who might be trying to decide what bridge to take and which one to burn (I think it relates to many aspects of life), so enjoy!

Living to Eat and Eating to Live Happier

I mean no offense to anyone when I say this, but now I know why people who aren't happy in their lives tend to be overweight.

I came to this conclusion as I stared down a plate of brownies this morning at work. I've been stressed, sad and frustrated and eating one would have eased all of the pain. I find comfort in food but knew that ruining my diet at 8:45 a.m. would set me off on the wrong foot and not make me feel any better in the end.

I have this conversation with myself about five times a day and don't always win. Which is why I boldly stated that people who are miserable might be overweight. If you're like me and are unsatisfied with certain parts of life--like being homesick and having trouble with work, relationships and/or living situations--it'll make you want to overeat. Unless it's just me.

Like I said, I find comfort in food, and when everything in my life is extremely stressful, trying to remain disciplined in eating, counting calories and and working out seems nearly impossible and just adds to the stress. Counting out 1,400 calories every day, tracking every bite that goes in my mouth, and then monitoring my pace and heart rate while on a jog or the elliptical at the gym isn't fun. Exercise is supposed to clear my mind, but my doctor told me I had to keep track of the numbers, so that's all I obsess over as soon as I lace up my sneakers. I always hated math and I still do.

The only thing I can seem to control in my life right now is what goes into my mouth and what and when I eat. When I am frustrated or upset, it is SO easy to just say "screw you" and enjoy a cupcake. Key word being enjoy, because it just might be the only moment of pleasure I get that day. Instead of saying "screw you" to a boss, coworker, friend or other person, it's easier to say it to the dieting gods who won't talk back (because they live in your subconscious and always make you feel guilty about it later).

Right now, my stomach is more upset than I am. Guess I won't be eating for comfort tonight...

Just Say No... Is it Really That Simple?

Here comes the season I've been dreading: the holidays. A time for candy, desserts, festive drinks and lots of succulent food. I was confident I could resist it all, but as Halloween came and went, I've found myself popping mini Milky Ways like they were my fish oil pills. I'm ashamed of my lack of will power to resist these little chocolate treats.

This also might be why I am running the Hot Chocolate 5K tomorrow... I'm pretty much solely doing it again this year for the chocolate fondue and hot chocolate party at the finish line. (That's me and Megan after last year's race)

I'm a little worried about how this whole holiday season is going to go with my calorie counting and weight loss challenge. Clearly, I can't even resist chocolate! (my cubicle has become a dangerous place--the other day my cubemate Natalie made mini cupcakes and left them on the desk space in between us).

However, I do have a little inspiration. What could be more motivating than talking to two Biggest Loser contestants? I had the opportunity to interview Jessica (who is still kicking butt on the show this season) for my November Pulse article. And this week I also got to interview Johnny (he was sent home after Week 2) this week for an article for the sister magazine Vitality.

During the interview, I asked them both how they planned to stick to their guns and new lifestyle during the holiday season. Jessica said she was planning on bringing her own treats and teaching people how she eats (she even gave me a recipe for baked apples she used to make for the other contestants on the ranch--check out the article to see it) and Johnny's straight answer: I'm just going to do it. He said he made the decision to live a healthier lifestyle and he just had to do it, that was all there was to it.

They both spoke with such conviction that it made their choices seem so simple.

Maybe it is that simple. In theory at least. Either way, I'll try to keep their voices in my head as I fill up my plates this holiday season. And maybe in the fondue line tomorrow. I'm sure chocolate dipped marshmallows and banana aren't part of their diets, even if it is after a race.

Food for Thought

Just a couple of thoughts from this week:

Thought 1: Just because it's free, doesn't mean you should eat it.

This entire week, Cosi has been giving out free food and treats as a housewarming promotion. I've gotten used to passing up muffins, squagels (square bagels) and slices of amazing bread, but it's never easy--especially when it's free. Yesterday morning, Cosi was giving away free one-topping oatmeal and I thought "finally, something something I can get!" But I looked up the calories for the green light, and to my dismay, discovered it was nearly 100 more calories than the oatmeal I bring for breakfast every day. Making the responsible decision, I passed up the free oatmeal. Now, the pastries and apple strudel sitting in the kitchen yesterday afternoon were a different story (I may have had a slice... but went for a run when I got home to make up for it).

Thought 2: Following the serving amount on the label means less trips to the grocery store.

Serving sizes are there for a reason, but for some reason I never liked to pay attention. This weekend I made rice and re-fried black beans and measured out each serving before putting it on my plate. This is the first time I've made this since my diet adventure began and in the past I'd go through a container of rice and can of re-fried beans in two sittings. This time, because I measured properly and rationed out according to serving, it lasted me four meals. I've noticed this trend with cereal, yogurt, pasta, sauce and vegetables (although I still eyeball those because over-serving myself broccoli can only help me). Measuring not only saves my waistline, but also money and trips to the grocery store. Now those are good reasons to pay attention to serving sizes.

Thought 3: I miss my favorite measuring instrument.

My skinny pants. Remember those? I used to use them as a measuring tool-- the lighter the waistline outline was on my stomach, the more I knew I was shrinking. About six months ago I bent down and split them right up the back. They were from freshman year of college, so I figured it was coming. Maybe it's time to get some new pants... and if I'm a size smaller, that might be a good new measuring tool.

That's all for now.

Where "R" You From?

The Today Show recently did a segment called How to Lose the Accent and Gain an "R". It's about how people with the Boston accent are trying to lose it for professional purposes, but are hesitant because they don't want to lose their identity. Dropping the "R" is a distinctive trait and a hometown pride thing, something that defines us and where we're from.

Whenever I tell someone here that I'm from Boston, their first response is always "How come you don't have an accent?" They're disappointed in me or think I'm lying. "I love the Boston accent," they say.

Suddenly, I'm less cool and less authentic because I say "water" and "car" (apparently that's what outsiders think defines a Boston accent. That and "Harvard Yard").

Growing up around the Boston accent (although it isn't just a Boston thing, it's more like a Massachusetts thing), I always found it a tad annoying. Maybe my annoyance was bred from all of the people who try to imitate it on television and in the movies and can't do it right: worst example, Julianne Moore's attempt as an Irish girl from Boston in 30 Rock. Even Matt Damon overdoes it in The Departed. Or because of those people who attempt to make fun of us and end up sounding like idiots. Example: I used to hang out with someone here who after every time I would say "wicked," he would say "the pahty was wicked hahd core." He is from Jersey (don't even get me started on that accent) and sounded like an idiot. Second, no one from Boston says that. Ever.

Either way, I've found now that I'm in the Midwest and away from my people, I have a whole new appreciation for the Boston accent. I actually really miss it.

Although not every person in Massachusetts talks like Sully from the Saturday Night Live skits with Jimmy Fallon, in my case, I purposely made sure I didn't pick up the accent. In high school, every journalism book and teacher drilled it into my head that if I ever wanted to be a reporter on television or radio, we'd have to practice our non-regional diction. From that point on, I made a conscious effort to pronounce all of my "R"s.

As it turns out, I never made it as a reporter and probably won't ever be on television or radio. And now I kind of regret forcing myself to speak like everyone else. I take pride in where I'm from and I think the Boston accent makes all Massholes feel a little special--when you drop your "R"s people know where you're from right away. It's one of the reasons I love my Patriots/Red Sox meet-up group--a lot of people haven't lost their accent despite living in Chicaaago. It makes me feel at home.

Luckily, it turns out that high school me didn't completely succeed in losing my Boston accent. My coworkers, roommates and friends here all point out the funny things I say-- I pronounce "berry" and "very" weird and say things like "jimmies," "wicked" and "draw" (I have to admit, sometimes I find myself dropping an extra "wicked" once in a while to make sure I don't lose it). And when I come back to Chicago after a visit home, I've been told by people that they can tell I've been hanging around my Boston friends (don't ask me how or what this means).

Sometimes I pretend that their making fun of me is annoying, but I am always secretly happy that there's something about me that makes me different, that proves I'm from Massachusetts. I never ever thought I'd be proud to talk like a Bostonian, but like the guy in the video said: "I don't wanna lose it. It's me." And that's just wicked awesome.

Goodbye, Cubs

When I first moved to Chicago, I thought I would become a Cubs fan. I figured they could be my NL team because they seemed to have many historical and years-of-suffering parallels as Boston. I bought into the idea, sporting my Cubs cap around town and cheering them on in good times, empathizing with them during the bad. And how do they repay me? Like a bad, ungrateful friend, they've stolen my man.

For the past few weeks, all I have heard about is how Theo Epstein is leaving Boston for the Cubs. As a Red Sox fan living in Chicago, I feel like I've just been dumped and now have to watch Theo flaunt his new relationship in my face every day. And worse, in an organization of fans that doesn't understand what they've got and how lucky they are-- where most fans and media outlets are spending more time focused on his looks than what he can bring to their team. While Theo is classic New England, Boston-boy handsome (which as Midwesterners they don't understand), it's his brains that make him even more attractive. It's what's on the inside that counts... isn't that one of the cardinal rules of dating?

Like the end of any relationship, one person is always left with the baggage--anger, hurt, sadness and a whole lot of mess to work through. Most Red Sox fans haven't even had the chance to mourn Theo's departure amid the loss of Terry Francona and Beergate (what I'm fondly referring to as the Sox pitchers who allegedly drank beer and ate fried chicken in the clubhouse). When it rains it pours, and now we have to weather this storm alone. No offense to the new GM, but he doesn't know us like Theo did. He couldn't possibly know how to make us feel better.

As soon as I'm over the shock phase of this break-up, I will stop acting like a woman scorned and take time to reflect on all the good times we had together. Thanks for a great 10 years and two World Series championships, Theo. And for looking so damn good while doing it.

The dumped usually close this chapter of their lives by wishing the other well (whether they mean it or not). I hope Theo will be happy with his new team. All I have to say to Cubs fans is that you better treat him right and respect him, because you've just been given then best thing that's happened to you in years. Oh yeah, and our friendship is over.

The Second Time Around is Always Better?

This weekend, I completed my second half marathon. My friend Erin and I planned a girls weekend down in Newport, RI which included running Sunday's Amica Marathon/United Healthcare Half Marathon.

The course was beautiful--we ran along the ocean and through the city's best parts--but the "rolling" course (more like hills and steady and subtle inclines for most of the way) was more than my little Midwest legs could handle. I felt every little incline, ones I probably wouldn't have if I had been used to running on the East Coast.

Within the first half mile of the race we were forced to run up a hill and there were plenty along the rest of the way (although not all were as steep). My mental anxiety kicked in and I was struggling to get through each one. Erin was a superstar running buddy, congratulating me after I made it up each one and telling me I could do it. We even started a little game where we would compare each hill to a food item--for example, Erin would say this hill is like an omelet because it takes a while to make it, but once you're over the hard part you can finally enjoy it. I think we also used waffles, ice cream sundaes, brownies and pancakes as distractions. It worked for a while.

By Mile 8 my legs felt like spaghetti and were hard to keep moving. Every time I thought I hit my stride, I'd run into another incline. At Mile 9, I had a mini-meltdown, nearly crying that I couldn't make it the rest of the way. The thought of running four more miles caused me launch into almost a full-on panic attack. Erin was understanding and helped me talk myself into knowing I could finish. So we ran on... with some stretching stops and walking breaks in between.
Despite the meltdown and my burning quads, we finished in 2:37:12 (just a minute longer than my time from my first half marathon in August, which was along a flat course). Despite the challenge and the mental breakdown, I enjoyed the scenic course, the girl-bonding time and the views we got of the ocean. I miss those views.

My quads are still a little sore, but thanks to the compression sleeves I got for my legs for the race (they help blood circulation or something like that) I had far less soreness than I did after my first half). My Achilles didn't feel like they were going to rip around Mile 10 and my feet didn't hurt so bad after that I felt like I couldn't walk after crossing the finish line. Best money I've spent in a while.

Despite my new addiction for collecting race medals (I have four now!), I'm going to have to put off running any more halfs for a while. Running two in a two-month period got me a little burned out, which I'm blaming for the Mile 9 mental breakdown. I think I'll take a week off and then get back to running shorter distances while working on increasing my speed--doctor's orders (she thinks it will help me lose more weight by increasing my intensity and heart rate). The gold star from my doctor is one medal I'm still looking to add to my collection.