The One with Fifty Shades of Gray

Workout update:  Saturday, I almost died, thanks to a stitch in my side while I was running.  It started after the first 60-stint of running and continued until the end.  Yesterday, I started my Week 2 routine:  7 rounds of 2 minutes of running, 1 minute of walking.  I only added an extra three minutes of walking to that, and I did it all the way through without stopping.

Sadly, all this is causing me to GAIN weight, which was actually the opposite of what I was going for.

So Fifty Shades of Gray.  For those of you that haven't heard of it, it's the first book in this trilogy of "novels" about this guy who's hardcore into S&M.  And then there's this girl he wants, who's all like, "Oooh!  But I want you to LOVE ME."  They're terribly-written, repetitive, awful, awful books that have, inexplicably, taken the world by storm.

I'm reading the first one (which I bought on my Nook so if I'm reading it in public, I won't be judged.  Or worse, have someone start a conversation with me about them.)  I can't.  Stop.  Reading it.

It reads like fan fiction (which it is.  It was originally a fan fiction for Twilight.  Blech.) and the author uses the same phrases constantly.  She's always talking about her Inner Goddess, and she's just the whiniest, most pathetic, worst character in the history of literature.

And yet, I'm still reading.

I don't entirely understand the popularity of it all.  Some people are calling it "Mommy Porn," as it seems to be a bunch of middle-aged woman reading it.  My mother-in-law refuses to believe it started out as fan fiction.  My hairdresser (who is actually my age) told me that women of all ages come in and want to talk about the book.

It's legitimately one of the worst books I've ever read.

And yet, I'm still reading.

I refuse to read the second and third books, though, especially since a friend of mine told me what happens, and it's all just infuriating.

The weirdest thing about it, I think, is that the public libraries here refuse to carry it.  I can't remember the reasoning, as I had never heard of the books before when I was working there and we got an e-mail saying we weren't going to be carrying it.  I wish I could remember why.  (Here's an interesting article about why many libraries won't be carrying it.)

Aside from those reasons, it doesn't make much sense, because the library carries the A.N. Roquelaure (Ann Rice) Sleeping Beauty Trilogy, which I read in college and which is FILTHY in a way that the 50 Shades books could only hope to be.  And then there are the oft-read, tattered copies of the books by Zane the library carries.  I read one page of one of those and was shocked.  (And I'm no prude.)

All this to say, the library carries erotica, but apparently, not flash-in-the-pan, badly written, fan fiction erotica.  Which this series is.

And yet?  I'm still reading.

The One with the Second Workout

I don't have any pictures or anything, but I actually did my second run-walk on Wednesday. . .it was surprisingly successful (especially in comparison to my first day.)

D gave me this. . .weird stretchy workout shirt to wear, and seeing as to how it was long-sleeved, I thought I would die of heat, but as it turns out, the thing has a weird way of keeping you cool.

Did my blood sugar and it was 166.  Higher than 150, so I figured I was good to go.  This time, I unhooked my insulin pump entirely, to see what would happen.  With my weird stretchy shirt and shorts and hair in a clip that caused it to be inexplicably big, I looked like some kind of deranged Workout Jeannie.

I decided to go to the gym this time to avoid both the heat and the July 4th traffic.  As an interesting side note, I passed a bunch of frat boy looking people in the pool area, and this one guy was fighting with his bikini-clad bleach blonde girlfriend about something.  She screamed at him, "You NEVER LISTEN to WHAT I'M SAYING!"  And the guy, awesomely, replied, "Do YOU ever listen to what you're saying?"

He might have been a tool, but at least he was a quippy tool.

(Another side note:  I was looking in Google Images for a picture to go along with "quippy tool" and a picture of Ben Affleck showed up.)

I got on the treadmill and started off at a run.  It was easier this time, partially probably because I'd sort-of done it on Monday and partially because I was on a treadmill.  Got through my first 4 60-90's and then stopped for a water break.  The last 60-90 was a special kind of torture, but I made it through the entire thing with little incident.

Got home and did my blood sugar.  59.  What the what?

(Later, D was like, "You didn't eat anything before you went, did you?"  I hadn't, and he told me that what's happening is that I'm stimulating all kinds of work-out-type processes internally (his explanation was a lot less vague and a lot more concise) and so my glycogen (maybe?) was being eaten up while I ran.  Makes sense.)

So NEXT time, I'll eat something beforehand and maybe leave my pump on.

For the 4th of July, we went to the top floor of my office building and watched fireworks from there.  It was a great view, and also allowed us to see several fireworks shows happening miles away.  Good times.

Day 2 of Week 1 down:  22 workouts to go to complete the 8 weeks.

The One with the First Day of Running

I don't really get along with exercise.  I know you're supposed to do it, I know I could probably lose the random 12 pounds I gained working at the library if I did it. . .but it's just not fun.

But then I saw this: The Color Run.  It looks insane and awesome, and it's a 5k, as opposed to an actual marathon.  I can run a 5k, right?

Well, I can if I work up to it.  I signed D and myself up for the only one in North Carolina this year, and it'll go down in November.  The Color Run's facebook page had a printout of a good way to train yourself for a 5k (I think it's very similar to the "Couch to 5k" workout), so I printed it off and decided to start it this week.

For week one, 3 to 5 times that week, you're supposed to run 60 seconds and walk 90 seconds 8 times.  Sounded doable, I thought.  Yesterday, I came home, ready to get going.

5:09 p.m.:  Twisted ankle walking up to the third floor in heels.  Maybe I won't be starting today.

5:15 p.m.:  Decide ankle will be fine, put on tennis shoes, T-shirt, and shorts.  Can't find a hair tie.

5:18 p.m.:  Track down a hair tie, inexplicably, in the extra bedroom and put hair in ponytail.  Admire the way my last haircut makes the hair in the ponytail look all wavy and cute.  Contemplate what a shame it would be to get sweaty and mess up the hair.

5:19 p.m.:  I can't find any paper on which to write down my musings.  Finally track down a notecard in a box of desk stuff that hasn't been unpacked yet after the move.  Consider staying home and unpacking the desk boxes.

5:20 p.m.:  Test blood sugar.  It's at 126, so I figure that should be fine for an approximately 20-minute run/walk.

5:22 p.m.:  Try to figure out how to use the stopwatch on my phone.  I don't really want to bring the phone with me, but I also don't have a stopwatch.  As it turns out, a phone is going to come in handy.  But at 5:22 p.m., I don't know this yet.  I also check the weather, which is at 90 degrees.  The humidity isn't awful, so I decide I won't die.

5:23 p.m.:  Begin the 7 minute process of trying to get a decent picture of myself before I start.  Ended up pulling some strands of hair out of my ponytail as to not subject viewers to the abject horror that is my enormous forefivehead.

(If you can read what's written on my hand and want to know why I'm running around, literally, with "chicken" written on my hand, it's because I had fully intended to go to BJ's Club after work to pick up chicken because my family was coming over for dinner the next day.  Unfortunately, as I got to the parking lot of BJ's, I remember that D has my debit card, so unless I was going to steal the chicken, I was out of luck.)

5:31 p.m.:  Begin running!  I took a picture of my shoe with my housekey sticking off of it because I thought it looked funny.  Later, this would become Grand Irony.

As I'm running, I'm thinking this isn't so bad.  I completed the first set of 60-running-90-walking without issue.  Then completed the second with just a few thoughts of, "Holy crap, I'm out of shape."

Then, right as the third 60-second running ended, it happened.

5:36 p.m. and 50 seconds:  Shoe comes untied, key flies off shoe into grassy, brushy area.

I heard a "PING!" and look down, and my shoe is untied and my key is gone into the oblivion.  I still have 10 seconds to go on my minute, so I run in place until the 60 seconds is up.  Then I start looking for my brass key, which blends in very well with its surroundings.

5:41 p.m.:  Still haven't found key, so I call D who is, luckily, nearby.  He says he'll be there soon.

5:45 p.m.:  Glad I don't own a stopwatch so I had to bring my phone with me.

5:46 p.m.:  D arrives, helps me in my fruitless search.

5:47 p.m.:  A State Trooper, seeing D's car in the turn lane with the flashers on, stops to ask if we're OK.  I tell him I've lost my key.  He laughs, and tells us to have a good night.

5:49 p.m.:  D tells me that since no one knows where I live, if someone finds the key, they wouldn't know which lock it would open, and it would be OK.  We'll just get a new key.  But then. . .

5:50 p.m.: 

5:52 p.m.:  D leaves and I start running again, figuring I can skip the last 90 second walking since I took a. . .15- or so minute lapse.



5:54 p.m.:  Pickup truck drives by and honks and whistles. 

5:59 p.m.:  I'm feeling pretty crappy, so I decide to walk home (walking's still exercise!) and since the 5k isn't until November, I'll have time to work up to the running.  Maybe I'll take this week and do 4 reps of 60-90 and then go up to 8 next week.

(I took another picture at this point, but I look so gross and sad and pathetic, I refrained from posting.)

6:08 p.m.:  Hobbled up the stairs, knees killing me, and did my blood sugar.  Now I know why I was feeling so crappy.

So much for 126!  I had a juice box and another cup of juice and waited for the blood sugar to go up so I could take a shower without passing out and drowning.

6:32 p.m.:  And then, this happened:

So there's that.

I'm going to attempt this all again tomorrow (Wednesday), and what I have learned is the following:

1.  I probably need some kind of fanny pack to carry my blood sugar kit in.

2.  I either need to take off my insulin pump or suspend it whilst run-walking.

3.  I should probably put my key in the fanny pack.

4.  Always carry a phone.

We'll see what happens on Wednesday.



The One With an Unintended Hiatus

Merry Christmas! 12 days late

Happy New Year! almost a week late

Wow. I am way, way behind. I'm happy to see that my 21 people are still here and haven't yet abandoned me for being so incredibly remiss. Thanks, guys!

I also want to thank the people who let me know that they would, in fact, eat something from someone they didn't know. I didn't have enough people in the time before Christmas actually rolled around, so I'll keep it in mind in case I want to do some kind of giveaway in the future.

I'd like to "formally" announce my other blog, my new-ish food blog. I actually (with the help of D) started it back in December, but kind of dropped the ball, as I did with this one, but I will be doing my absolute best to keep it updated and awesome, so I can move on, eventually, to my intended full-time food career. You can check it out at www.shelikestobake.com. Once I get into the swing of things, it'll be updated more often. I promise.

D gave me a video recorder for Christmas for the express reason of getting further into video blogging. I took some video of the ridiculous amount of snow that we got, but I'm going to have to figure out a way to remove the audio before I put it up. Because I was rambling like an idiot moreso than usual and no one wants to hear that. I also did a video blog from downtown Raleigh during the New Year's Eve celebration, so I'll put that up too, in the future. (By "in the future" I mean "as soon as D has time to help me, because I am fairly technologically illiterate.)

In other news, I ran a mile yesterday on the treadmill. This wasn't a New Year's resolution. I go to the gym occasionally, and yesterday I was feeling particularly sloth-like.

via hyperbole and a half

So I'm running along, feeling like I may or may not die while a skinny Asian girl runs along beside me like it's NOTHING and "Down Home with the Neelys" plays on the TV. I'd like to make it a mile. I'm gunning for a mile. At .80, I feeling like I'm just going to keel over. I think, no, Sarah, you've baked and subsequently eaten SO MUCH these past few weeks, you are going to RUN THIS DAMN MILE.

For Christmas, my brother gave me an iTunes gift card, and I've downloaded a few new songs onto my iPod as a result. One of these songs gave me the wherewithal to get through that mile. It was this one:

Say what you will about her, but this song is awesome.

I've got more stories to tell, but I'll save them for later, possibly preventing another month-long hiatus.