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I AM going to talk about running and scales, but a few odds and ends first. For instance, I need to share my tasty dinner with you. I wasn’t going to have time to cook at all today, because I was scheduled to take a 4 hour literacy test (blech). BUT, thank you Mother Nature, it was rescheduled for Thursday. Not that I’m going to want to take it anymore then, but at least I will have something desirable to eat for leftovers.

I have been envisioning a pork roast with carrots, onions and potatoes in my head for a few days now. When I went shopping this weekend, I got all the goods and decided I would make it later in the week. Today I set off into the kitchen, hoping that my vision would become something delicious. And it did! I have to admit, I really wasn’t sure about this. I knew that all the things went together but I was worried about them all cooking the right amounts respectively in the pan, and not becoming too dry.  This is what I got:

And this is how I got there:

Chop 1 pound of carrots, 1 large sweet onion, 1 potato, mix, and pour half in pan.

Add 3-4 pork chops, then add the rest of the mix.

For the sauce: Mix 1/4 cup of melted butter/margarine (I’m a margarine girl myself), some ginger and cinnamon, maybe a dash of sugar, and pour on top of the hearty goods.

I was still worried about tenderness after this, so I added dabs of applesauce all over the top.

Cover with foil and put in the oven at 375 degrees for 75-90 minutes.


Now….onto the running.

I’ve been trying, harder than I have in a long time. I want to be a runner, I really and truly do. I can do an hour on the elliptical, no problem. Hours of walking? Sure. 10 minutes of running? I’m a slow, hot mess.

In high school, you couldn’t have paid me to want to run. I recall dreading the two times of year that we had to run a mile for gym class. It was torture and I’m not sure I ever actually ran a mile straight. When I came to college, I wanted to get into better exercise habits. This didn’t really happen so much freshman year because I inadvertently gained the freshman 15 (and somehow didn’t actually notice this until May). But that’s beside the point. Sophomore year I came back to BU in shape from a summer of hard work, and I was determined not to gain that weight back.

I started running every morning, mixed with some core and strength training exercises a few days a week. I was a slow runner, but I could get a few miles in without really having to walk at all. Eventually the weather turned to its present state of cold and snow, but I didn’t give up…I just started going to the gym. Between then and now, I sporadically ran, especially on early mornings when I didn’t have enough time to get to the gym and I could watch the sunrise. Somewhere in there I fell into the habit of getting up and walking (not even running, even though it would be much more efficient) to the gym every morning. Not that this is a bad habit to have, but I want to run, and the treadmill never looks like the better option when there are dozens of ellipticals in front of me.

But alas, last week I needed to get in a quick and intense workout. What better way to do that than running a mile? I like to churn out a mile every month or two, just to make sure I still can. Since last Thursday, I have tried to run each day. It’s a completely different workout for me than the elliptical or any other training I do. I get exhausted, sweaty, and out of breath. But there is this little drill sergeant voice in my head that keeps yelling at me to try harder. I should add, this voice isn’t new, but not one that visits often…mostly becaue I’ve been focusing on other things at the gym lately.

So running is hard for me. A big challenge. One that I have always wanted to tackle. I want to run 26.2 by my 26th birthday (I know I have several years to go…phew!), I just feel that I can’t put all my energy into training while I’m balancing school and everything else. I would like it to be my first post-graduation, real word goal. That doesn’t mean I can’t run at all between here and there. So…I’m working to keep the little voice in my head talking, and to push myself harder.

This post was already super long so here is the abbreviated version of me and scales: It’s a love/hate relationship. I love numbers, I love analyzing them, organizing them, using them for anything really. I love them because they are logical and make sense to me. However, my number on the scale isn’t logical sometimes. When I feel really great about myself, I weight 4 pounds more than I did 3 days ago when I felt like a whale. So while I like to measure goals, I feel that the scale doesn’t do that accurately. I would love to weigh this magic number I have in my head…but the last time I weighed that I was really sick and too weak to even walk up the stairs. So maybe I could lose 10 pounds, but I would have to work harder than I’m willing to in order to reach and maintain that goal. Instead, I choose to focus on feeling healthy and measuring my goals by how well my pants fit.

Until next time…