Facing the Fear

As I was finishing up my final paper for my ethnography of communication class (I studied my running group!) I wanted to track down an article Peter Sagal wrote for his Road Scholar column in Runner's World.  I stumbled across an older column instead, called "A Thin Line," which really struck home for me. Basically Sagal accounts how he bounced up and down, always obsessed with weight, which he remarks is "far, far more common than you might suppose among amateur athletes."  I could totally relate to his experience (though I usually bounce up and down 5-10 lbs, not 30 or more).

It was when I read the following, though, that I really stopped and thought:

It's not about being fat. I know people of all shapes whose sense of self is blessedly untethered from their weight. It's about the terror of what we might become if we allow ourselves to let go, to get weak, to slow down. I run now for a lot of reasons, for fitness and for times and for friendship and for the sheer pleasure of motion. But deep inside I know I'm also running because with every step, I'm leaving Plumpkin further behind. And I'm afraid if I ever stopped, he'd catch me, and consume me in his unending appetite, and I'd have to look back into the mirror from behind his frightened eyes.

The terror Sagal describes, I've also felt--what might I become if I stop running? Stop watching my weight? Stop going on a diet every so often, determined to "finally" get to my goal weight and size?  I go back and forth between not caring and deciding that drinking with my friends and eating delicious food is better than some imaginary goal number (as long as I'm a healthy weight, right?) to really, really wanting to be more fit and toned and feel good in my body.  I might have fun eating and drinking without thought of the consequences...but then I wake up the next morning and my body rejects my excesses and I feel terrible, my body unhappy with how I've treated it.

And I still fear the reemergence of that heavy girl, the one so shy and so insecure in herself that she constantly held herself back from living life, from talking to interesting people, from doing things in the world.  Seeing the "frightened eyes" in the mirror that Sagal describes.

I too run for more than just weight management.  I ran 4 miles today with relatively little pain, and I felt amazing.  I followed it up with a lovely, healthy meal, and I felt fantastic.  I'm working through all these little issues with the hopes that maybe one day, I can be "blessedly untethered" from my weight.  To give my body what it needs and to enjoy food without worrying about what others think, that I'm eating too much, that I'm going to put all the weight back on and have to, once again, swear that I'm going to eat better and run more.

I'm starting to realize that becoming healthier is not just about eating right and exercising--I can do that.  It's dealing with all this emotional baggage, my fears and worries, that is the hard part, the part I've refused to deal with more publicly until recently.  I know some of my readers might get tired of hearing about this stuff, but I hope you'll bear with me (and I plan to post lots of other interesting things) as I use this writing space to come to terms with it all...

And, on a happier note, it's almost summertime! :)

Vampires and Phonology

I hear Southerners complaining all the time about Southern accents on television; while I don’t have much of a Southern accent, I have been around it for long enough to have a good feel for what makes a good one and what makes a really, really bad one.  Southerners are constantly amused by television’s attempts to represent their dialect.  They either exaggerate or lump all the features together, or they characterize the person as a backwoods hick.

Then there are TV shows that are supposedly set in the South, but there’s nary a [pɪn] for [pɛn] to be found.

Welcome to Mystic Falls, Virginia, the fictional town setting of The Vampire Diaries.  For those of you who don’t watch trashy TV, the basic premise is your typical, century-old vampire from the Civil War Era falls in love with teenage mortal, who happens to look exactly like the vampire that he was in love with when he was human.  Thrilling stuff, I assure you, but I’ll keep the summaries to a minimum from here on out.

When I began watching the show, I noticed how the actors manipulate their language and accents to underscore shifts in time periods (as with all good shows, there are lots of flashbacks) and to convey the “oldness” of particular vampires.  Initially, it seemed simple, but after re-watching the episodes armed with my newfound understanding of phonology, I began to pick up on some interesting trends.

First of all, there is a distinct lack of Southern accents.  This seems unusual if you think about it: all of the characters are descended from old families who founded the town pre-Civil War; one main character (a vampire) fought for the Confederacy; it would appear on the surface that they should all identify themselves as Southerners who would have strong social motivations to have some markers of a Southern dialect.   Antebellum culture is a source of pride for many of the characters, with various town celebrations occurring in Civil War-era costume and celebrating events from that time period.  According to Rick Aschman’s dialect map, Virginia residents should have the pin/pen merger. Yet the actors and actresses use unmarked, “General American” English.

When the show begins providing back stories for some of the characters, including flashbacks to 1490, things start to get interesting, especially from a phonological perspective.  The earliest place we find Katarina (later Katherine) is in Bulgaria in 1490, so she speaks…Bulgarian.  This choice seems logical if you know that Nina Dobrev, the actress who plays both Katherine (the vampire) and Elena (Katherine’s teenaged human doppelganger and show’s heroine—see isn’t this show intriguing?) is Bulgarian and speaks French, English, and Bulgarian fluently.  Katherine’s family name is Petrova, and instead of using the Anglicized [pɛtɹo͡ʊvə], she says [pətɾɔvʌ]; all of the vowels are a little bit more back than in the Anglicized pronunciation, and the /ɹ/ is a flap (which sounds almost like a trill).  Whenever Elena (played by the same actress) says “Petrova,” she uses the Anglicized version.  This distinction would seem to indicate that the show consciously manipulates phonetics for certain effects, at least on fairly minor levels.

In the story line, Katarina leaves Bulgaria for England and “becomes English,” which (somewhat hilariously) means adopting a horrifically fake British accent.  And if there’s a British accent in a show for an American audience, it’s most likely to be an RP British accent, which is what all of the actors from these scenes use.  Historical linguistics may be amused and/or annoyed when this pops up because it is not the dialect in use in the late 15^th century, but it is the dialect perceived by American teenagers as “old” and “British.”  All of the actors employing RP pronunciation drop /ɹ/ between a vowel and a consonant and in word-final positions.  Nina Dobrev’s accent is so bad because this feature and the pronunciation of vowels is exaggerated a bit too much; it’s recognizable as British, but if you’re paying attention and listen to the other native-RP speakers in the same scene, you hear how affected it is.

Interestingly, there is a character, Elijah, who exists in the 1492 timeline and the present, and his language patterns shift depending on which time period he is in.  1492 Elijah speaks with a “stronger” RP accent (dropped /ɹ/, vowels); however, in the present, he speaks with a “weaker” British accent—/ɹ/ is used, and his pronunciation is closer to “General American,” though with some distinctions that give his speech a vaguely British feel.  (As it turns out, he’s from Canada, but lived in New Zealand for much of his young life.) For instance, he says, “I believe the term you’re searching for is OMG,” and he pronounces the /u/ a bit lower than an American might, and his /ɹ/ in “term” sounds a bit more deliberate.

The show also flashes back to the 1864, Civil-War era Mystic Falls, and the language patterns shift to match.  Initially, I struggled to pick out distinctive phonological features of this time period, but then I realized that there were none; the actors simply used archaic phrasings that we hear as “more proper.”  For example, the actors used the following phrases that stood out to me as archaic or formal: “I wish” or “For a short while,” “Until tomorrow,” “You must hurry,” “I shall go too,” and “It will get the best of you,” avoiding the contraction “I’ll.”  Otherwise, fairly standard “General American.”

Only one character had any phonological markers of a genteel Southerner; George Lockwood, member of one of the founding families, tended to drop /ɹ/ medially and in word final positions, such as [cɑnvɛsa͡iʃn] for “conversation” and [ji͡ə] for “year.”  His character existed in the 1864 timeline, however, and was subtle enough to not be overwhelming. (He’s also a werewolf[i], just so you know).

Finally, I was able to identify one character in the episodes I watched that had a few phonological features of the Southern dialect.  Two witches (yes, there are witches, and unfortunately, for some reason on this show all the witches are black) moved to Mystic Falls, supposedly from Louisiana: Luka and his father.  Luka displays a few subtle variations that are characteristic of a Southern dialect; for example, he says “here” not as [hiɹ] but as [hi͡ə], dropping the final /ɹ/.  He also has the characteristic pin/pen merger (saying [bɪnɛt] instead of [bɛnɛt]), though it doesn’t seem consistent.  His father, however, showed none of those features in his speech, so it seems likely that the actor who plays Luka has some of these features in his native dialect.

So while it seems that, in an attempt to appeal to a mainstream audience, the show’s producers avoid using Southern dialects for their supposedly Southern characters, they do seem to manipulate accents and language use.  These uses convey shifting timelines, reinforce the “oldness” of some of the vampire characters, and add an intriguing dimension to what might be dismissed as trashy TV.  Although some of the features I picked up on are unlikely to be consciously written into the show, the fact that the same actors/characters use different ways of speaking demonstrates that much of it is deliberate.  And perhaps we should be grateful they refrain from using the Southern dialect since so many shows fail miserably when they try.

---

[i] One character pronounced “werewolf” as [wɛɹwʊf], which piqued my interest, but he had nothing else too interesting going on.

Heavy Past

When I was young, I was a spindly girl along with my four brothers, all legs and arms: my mother likes to tell a story where someone saw the five of us all together, looked at her accusingly, and asked, "Do you feed those children?"  (She did, of course).  At some point before puberty, I got a little chubby, but as soon as I got a growth spurt, I was a normal, slender teenager.

I  honestly don't really remember this phase except that I was shy and wanted to hide my body and dressed in out-dated clothes.  I only know that there was a period of time in my teenaged life that I didn't really think about my size, and I didn't want anyone to notice me.  I wore huge, baggy t-shirts and oversized sweaters and avoided anything fitted, though a friend was able to talk me into wearing some trendy, tighter clothes a couple of times.

I must have started to put on weight before I worked at a fast food chain, but I don't really remember.  I do know that working there when I turned 16 was the start of my weight gain; by the time I graduated high school, I was a size 14.

Several memories have surfaced as I was thinking about my weight struggles: one, a memory where my dad, frustrated, called me lazy when I refused to do some chores, and I went and wrote angrily in my diary about how I was fat and how much life sucked (ah, teenage angst).  There are quite a few entries like that.

Two: I frequently went to the doctor when I was 16 until I graduated high school because I had horrible, recurring ear infections.  There was the WORST NURSE in the entire world who worked in that office who tried to tell me to use ear candles to get rid of the infection and was generally annoying and neither nice nor good at her job.  She was taking down my information (weight, BP, etc), looks up at me and says, "Don't you think you need to lose some weight, dear?" I felt the tears well up, and my mother was upset.  Weight was somewhat of a taboo subject in our house, so I never heard anything from my parents about being concerned about my weight--my mother had endured too many taunts as a teenager and could not bear that I would suffer the same injuries.  I knew I didn't look like the girls around me, but I didn't think a lot about it.

Three: I had saved up money my junior year and bought a beautiful dress (which, unfortunately as it turns out, was not well-suited to my pear shaped body).  I wore it several times, including for graduation.  Someone asked me what size I was, and when I told them, they commented, "Huh, I thought you were bigger than that, especially in that dress."  I was stung.

There are more memories about generally being unsatisfied, not feeling like I was pretty, and longing to be like the other, thinner girls I associated with.  For me, though, the turning point came my sophomore year of college, where (after putting on a freshman 20 or so), I went to the gym and got on the scale, and saw the number: 200.

I didn't really know what I was doing at the time, but I knew I had to do something--I could not continue to go up in weight.  At this point, I was a size 18.  I found a Denise Austin show on one of the TV channels we had in the dorm; I recorded it an did it a couple of times a week. I began to read more about health and nutrition.  I think I lost a bit of weight; mostly, it was a relief not to gain more.  The real breakthrough came that summer, however, when I traveled to Mexico for six weeks: I was sick for the first part, didn't eat a whole lot during meals, and walked all over the place.  I returned to the states around 10 pounds thinner and fitting into my abandoned size 14 jeans.  I was happy, and my mother and many others remarked at the difference in appearance.

The next school year, I managed to maintain this size and began dabbling with running (but had shin splints and other woes).  Toward the end of the year, one of my friends had lost quite a bit of weight with Weight Watchers, and she offered to share her materials with me and several other girls who were moving into the same house that summer.  I began following the plan...and was shocked by how many "points" I ate on an average day, mainly on snacking.

I followed the plan religiously, tracking my points daily in a little notebook, putting stickers on all my food with their points values.  I also began running with another couple of friends, one who was also trying to lose weight.  Watching him run a mile around the track one day, I was inspired--I wanted to run a full mile, without stopping.  It was hard, but I knew I wanted to do it, so my friend A and I kept running until we both could.  The day I ran a full mile without stopping was amazing--and I immediately wanted to run more.  A and I would continue to run 2 or so miles several times a week.

By the end of the summer, I was around 155 pounds and in a size 10.  I was running more and eating healthier, making good choices.  I walked around campus a lot.  I stopped following the plan precisely, but continued to lose weight.  People who hadn't seen me all summer were shocked; one brother exclaimed, "Where'd Jenn go?!?" I liked the attention.  Better yet, I liked that I could run--it made me feel as though I was capable and powerful.  When I ran, I felt free and graceful, so different from my normal existence.  I continued to run from then on, and started playing sports, including Ultimate Frisbee and intramural sports.  From that summer in 2003 on, I would never be the same Jenn, and she was someone I was happy to leave behind.

Reflecting on that past Jenn, though, I realize she wasn't so bad.  She was shy, held back by her own insecurity, but she was the path that led me to where I am today, and I wouldn't be myself without her, without the memories of that awkwardness and youth and hope and desire.  I hope by sharing this story, it can connect with others of you readers who have shed someone, left some version behind.  Or who perhaps hope to find some other version of themselves.  I know that I'm moving toward some future Jenn, who I hope (regardless of my size or physical fitness) is wiser, smarter, and continues to strive to be kind to herself and others.

Running and Eating (Too Much)

When I was training for the marathon, I could eat almost anything.  It was awesome.  I would eat and eat and eat and not gain a pound because I was running so much.

But then, I stopped running as much, yet I continued to eat the same or more.  Then the series of injuries caused me to reduce my running even more.  And now I'm seeing the effects.  I've put on about 10 pounds since the start of the year, and I don't like it.

So, I'm going to shift my attention to yoga+strength training and eating non-processed foods.  The last time I only ate non-processed stuff, I felt amazing--I had so much energy, I slept better, and I lost weight without really trying.  This time, I'll have to try a bit more.

I normally feel really awkward announcing to the world that I'm going on a diet, so I refuse to call it a diet.  I want to think of it as a shift in focus.  For now, I want to avoid (but not 100% eliminate) processed sugar, refined grains, and other foods that tend to be lower nutrients, and also the things I like to eat a bit too much of.  I'll try not to blog too much about it, but just concentrate on gaining a healthier, stronger me.

9 years ago, I was almost 200 pounds, out-of-shape, and didn't think I could run or do much.  I wasn't really unhappy because of my weight, but I think I used it to hide a bit, and I definitely always felt self-conscious.  As I began to drop the pounds and run more and more, I found that I liked my new body and the confidence I found, and I swore I'd never go back.  Getting on the scale this morning and seeing the number continue to creep up takes me back to that old girl from 9 years ago.

Instead of feeling unhappy or helpless, or feeling like I'm worth less somehow because of my higher weight, I'm doing something about it.  I refuse to go back to a place where my happiness rests on my appearance; at the same time, I know it's best for my health if I am more careful about what I eat and I exercise regularly.  Running makes me happy, and I want to keep running for as long as I'm able.  And talking about it with people helps me take control and deal with the issues in a better way, than stuffing it down and eating some more ice cream (which I tend to do).

Anyway, that's my plan. Eat less, move more, do more stuff.  Have fun with friends, but make it less about the food we eat and about the fun we have.  Enjoy the summer by swimming and biking and running and using the extra time I have to go to yoga and build my strength and try something new.

I'm running a half-marathon with my brother in a little over a month, so hopefully I'm over all these injuries soon so that I can start training--until then, light running, biking, and swimming (and yes, K, much more yoga).

Fridays Around Here

I have a real problem with working on Friday afternoons, especially sunny spring ones.  But I promised those kids that I would give them back their papers this afternoon, and I've already lied to them about having them finished by Thursday*.

So, I sat in my office at home and worked until 8pm.  Now I'm waiting for our dinner guests to arrive. L sweetly cleaned the whole house when I rejected his requests for help cleaning with an imperious wave and a "I must GRADE!"

BUT, I finished it.  I even got to get out a bit when a friend offered to replace the beer that L consumed that I really, really wanted.

Now to have a bit of fun and relax, until tomorrow anyway...

(PS: The wrist and ankle are recovering nicely, FYI.)

*There was burning and ankle twisting involved.

Baking Disasters

It all began when I twisted my ankle.

Twisted ankle meant a bit of pain and the need to RICE. Which meant I stayed home instead of going out to volunteer with Girls on the Run.  Which meant that I decided to bake something for the dinner tomorrow with my friends, since I could throw something in the oven really quickly and not worry about it tomorrow.

Okay, so it's not exactly fair to blame the TERRIBLE MISHAP upon a silly twisted ankle (which seems to be feeling better, but it might just be that the overriding pain of my wrist is...well, I'm getting ahead of myself).  Anyway, usually if one crazy thing happens to me, it probably means I should watch out.*

All right, I hear you: on with the story. So I decided to make a tart.  It was going to be delicious.  The crust would be gluten free and made of almonds and butter, the filling a luscious lemony goodness.  Thinly sliced lemons macerated in sugar on a bed of toasty almonds.  Delight!

Mishap #1: I was following a paleo recipe that called for nuts, butter, salt, and baking soda.  Not thinking about the filling, I put all that together and put it in the oven to bake a bit.  Then I dumped the lemon filling on it, with all the sugar and juices.  Now, what happens if you mix baking soda and lemon juice? If you guessed it, you'll now imagine foamy almond crust, some of it dripping onto the oven floor.

Well, it'll probably still taste good, Lance and I commented to each other.  I'll top it with tons of whipped cream and no one will notice how ugly it is, I added.

Mishap #2: time to take the tart out of the oven.  So I grab it without first setting out a cooling rack.

And here's with the TERRIBLEness happened:

Mishap #3: I shift the tart to one hand, meaning that the middle was on my hand and the ring was suddenly supported.  The searing pain in my wrist quickly alerted me to my major mistake, leading to

Mishap #4: In which the excruciating pain of metal and hot sugary liquid burning into my wrist causes me to throw down the tart, scream obscenity, and run away.  Lance makes me come back and put my wrist under cold, running waters, after I've removed my watch and flung it away.

We look back at the tart, which came through someone whole, though slightly mangled.  So we ate a bit of it.  It was actually not bad, despite how awful it looks and much pain it caused me.

*And today is 13+13, right? (the 26th?) Though it's not a Friday, so I'm not sure if that matters.

How it goes

You get up in the morning, find some breakfast, drink some coffee, go to work, come home and do it all again.  It sounds depressing, but basically, there's been so little exciting going on in my life that I haven't felt the urge to post.  Though, I did make some awesome cupcakes...

Anyway, it's nearing the end of the semester. I'm gearing up to start reading this summer to start COMPS. Oh my! (That's pretty exciting).  I picked my concentrations--Rhetoric of science, language, pedagogy--and two of my three advisory members.  So my education is moving along well.

This summer, it'll be time to get stuff out for publication. I have several things up my sleeve that I need to put out there. I find the whole publication thing a bit nerve-wracking, but I know I can do it.

On the running front, I did something to my quad (not sure what, but I figured out how to make it stop hurting), and then I twisted my ankle this morning on my first 3 mile run in a few weeks. Argh! Luckily, I think the ankle will be fine if I baby it for the rest of the day.

Well, back to the coffee, then to get ready for work...

I Ran How Far?

Us, Lance, and our GIANT MEDALS

26.2 miles.  TWENTY-SIX POINT TWO MILES.  The enormity of what I did, set out to do, accomplished still overwhelms me.  Even as I sit here, mostly recovered from my exhaustion and extreme pain, I still find it hard to believe that I ran TWENTY SIX* miles.

 I had emerged that morning from slumber before my alarm with the creeping anxiety that I had forgotten to set the alarm for the appropriate time, feeling the squeeze of nervous energy in my stomach.  I was in that period of wakefulness where you know you should get up and check the alarm (or get another blanket or pee or get a drink of water), yet just can't muster the ambition to get out of bed.

I finally sighed and stood up, realizing that it was just a few moments before my alarm, and that I had in fact set it properly, so I laid back down until it chimed.  I leapt up, grabbing my clothes and drinking water immediately--I knew I needed to hydrate my sleep thirsty body as quickly as I could.  I poked Lance, my driver and support crew, to wake him up to get ready.  My nerves calmed somewhat as I ate, packed up my gels, pinned on my racebib, and got into the car to head downtown to the Little Rock Rivermarket, where the race would begin.

It was a lovely March day, clear and chilly, a day where the sky is perfect cerulean without a cloud in sight.  I had on a long-sleeved shirt and L's brown fleece to warm my chilled body.  I searched for my friends that I had trained with all winter, finally abandoning L with his fleece to go find them.  I managed to fight through the crowd to stand next to them.  Suddenly, being beside the two women I had trained with, run the longest long runs, who had commiserated with me over injuries and weariness, I found myself calm and eager.  This was just like another training run, right?

Lance taking my photo while riding

We took off, and I felt good.  The plan was to hang back with the 4:10 pace group, then take off to hit the goal of 4 hours.  The runners were thick; weaving through the crowds was difficult for the first part.  We ran and chatted and looked out for L on his bike and other spectators that we knew.  My body grew warm as I ran, feeling strong and fast, and I ditched my long-sleeved shirt with a friend's family member.  As we continued for a few miles, I had to force myself to stay slow, but I finally couldn't take it anymore--as we neared the governor's mansion and waved hello to Governor Beebe, I took off, maintaining a good clip for the next twelve miles.

I felt amazing: the weather was beautiful, the spectators cheering me on and calling me out by name.  I had on fun socks (along with my fellow two runners), so I was recognizeable; one spectator saw me a second time and enthusiastically shouted out my name.  I soaked up the energy, the Gatorade, the energy gels, the slices of orange and chunks of banana, and I ran.

I ran.

And ran.

I ran beside an interesting woman named Kari from Tulsa who was running her fifth+ marathon for the joy of it--she had no goal in mind.  I had caught up with her after mile 15 when she snagged a beer from the Michelob guy.  We chatted for the next couple of miles, and she egged me on a bit, commenting about how well I was running for my very first.

L continued to catch up with me. I was cheerful and happy; I begged chapstick and sunscreen from him, and it was nice to break the monotony.  Honestly, though, I was so much in the zone that I barely registered the passing miles--it really wasn't until mile 20 that I started to feel the toll the mileage was taking on my body.  But even then, I ran strong, reducing my total average pace from 9:24 to 9:06 by that point.  Around mile 22, I spotted the ladies on the other side of the long out-and-back section, I screamed at them and they screamed at me, cheering me on, and I got an extra burst of energy.

When I hit mile 24, I was growing tired.  L was beside me for the most part, encouraging me.  I was tired and ready to be finished but still running strong.  Just before the finish, I had to tell him that I needed to be in my own head for the last quarter mile, but his presence was indispensable throughout the race.  He was sweet enough to be support crew to my two friends who were a bit behind me, biking back and forth to encourage them.

Finally, the finish line loomed.  I picked up my pace, finishing strong, punching my watch. It read 4:00--but was that my finishing time? I found myself suddenly unable to walk properly where I had just been running a moment before.  They handed me the massive finishers medal in all it's shiny, massive glory, but my mind was too fogged to fully appreciate it yet.

Shortly, however, it clicked.  I went and got my results--4:00:28! I had really hit my A goal! I could hardly believe it!  I found my friends and L and we relaxed, took photos, and drank chocolate milk and ate snacks and shared our experiences.  I was euphoric and eager to run another marathon.

I had heard that a marathon can be a life-changing experience, and for me, in that instant, it was.  I finished the project to completion.  I ran hard and fast and LOVED it.  I'm eager to run some shorter distances and not have to train so long and hard, but it was all worth it.  And now I can check that off the list.


But even today, I still find it a little surreal.  Did I really run that far?  And kick ass while doing it?  I certainly have the medal and sore muscles to prove it.

*All caps VERY necessary.

Knowing When to Stop

A couple of weeks ago, I ran out the door to take advantage of the lovely day and get a 5 mile run in.  Everything felt great...at first.  My Achilles tendons have been feeling a little sore, so I didn't think much about it when my leg started twinging a little.

But then it started aching a lot.  I kept stopping to stretch, which helped temporarily, but by the time I got to my 2.5 mile turnaround, it was hurting. I got home and tried to roll it, which was pretty agonizing. After a bit of research, I found that I may have strained/torn my calf muscle.

Despite being in the middle of marathon training, I decided to just rest until it felt better. This is wise; everything I read said that a little rehab is better than continuing to run on it. So I got an ace bandage, some compression socks, and when it felt better, did a few short runs.

And, all better.  Part of the delight of this training is that I'm learning to listen to my body more, to trust that it'll tell me when something is wrong or when it needs something.  And it needed a little break.

A little over a week until marathon-time--I'm excited and scared all at the same time.  We ran our 22 a few weeks ago, now it's been taper time.  I've been working on my nutrition (listening to my body again!), so I have a lot of energy and feel good.  Almost there!

The beginning

In the beginning of every semester, there's an opportunity to get it all right, or to start off on the wrong foot.  Last semester, I began on the wrong foot: I was behind on the very first day and I scrambled to get caught up.  Needless to say, I was stressed all semester, and my teaching and schoolwork suffered.

Fast forward through a rejuvenating month of winter break and a semester with a bit of a lighter load.  Week two, and this semester is amazing.  I'm on top of things for teaching, I'm keeping up with all my schoolwork AND I'm beginning to work on my comps readings.  I can't believe how much different this semester is from the fall, but I'm grateful.  Even my students seem more attentive and eager to participate.  I only had one student missing total out of both of my sections this semester, which never happened in the fall.

My goals for the semester are to stay on top of all my projects and read lots.  But even better: I hope to get some of my research out there and actually submit something for publication.  Maybe a few somethings.  I've got some work done that's not bad, and I think it'd be really good if I started participating in a vital part of being a scholarship: communicating my research to other people.

Besides school, I'm also training for the Little Rock Marathon and trying to keep myself healthy, though a hopefully mild calf strain is causing me some issues currently.  No matter--I'm taking a couple of rest days and eager to get back to it as soon as it's healed up. 2012 is going to be an excellent year.

Archies: 2011 Was a Year to Remember

Donna has posted her annual Archies (a list of her world's top things), which sparked me to do the same.  After all, 2011 was pretty epic.  It began with my first solo teaching gig and a wedding and finished with a pretty decent bang.  So here are my own Archies, in no particular order (except for the first):

1. Getting married. Our wedding was pretty awesome, after all.
2. Snowpocalypse 2011: Also known as the year we got married after one snowstorm and slightly before an even bigger snow storm that involved a really, really chilly night.
3. My first semester teaching.
4. PR for the half marathon: 1:56!
5. Two new nieces.
6. The return to the US of my Marine brother--just in time for the end of 2011
7. New Balance Minimus
8. This Kesha video--so bizarre.  Why are there unicorns? Why is Van der Beek wearing a bra?
9. A trip to Montana during the Arkansas heat wave.
10.  The National Writing Project Summer Institute
11. Swiss Buttercream
12. So much running--thanks to my running group!
13. Heckling at Twilight: Breaking Dawn
14. Sculpt class and yoga at Millennium Life Center
15. 100 push up challenge (and the ability to now do a "real" push up).
16. Storage units
17. CCCC
18. Wedding showers.
19. Bachelorette party
20. Dancing. (More dancing will happen in 2012)
21. Pinterest
22. Blood, Bones, and Butter--one of the best books I read this year.
23. Learning to make my own jewelry
24. HDMI cable
25. PR for a 5k: 24:30
26. PR for a 10k: 49:05
27. Getting accepted to RSA
28. Modern Family, Glee, and Mad Men
29. Designing and teaching a course
30. Nearing the end of coursework
31. Noodles (Ramen, soba, etc)
32. Pumpkin (or banana!) paleo pancakes
33. The Hunger Games
34. All the friends with their babies (there are so many!)

There are likely some more, but these are the ones that came to my mind off the top of my head, so enjoy!  I love list making--this Archie list-making is enjoyable and allows me to reflect on the year. :)

Day One of 2012

I began the day by sleeping in.  Already a win.

Then I read a book.  I'm on a YA fiction kick, so I've been reading Eon by Alison Goodman (preceded by the first two books of The Hunger Games trilogy and the second book in an interesting series by Alie Conde called Crossed--the first was Matched.)  It's the first of two books, so I'll probably start Eona tomorrow.

After I read for a while, I decided that I really needed to get going on my long run.  Usually I do long runs with my running group, but I wasn't feeling very good yesterday morning, so I skipped.  Which meant I had to do it alone. Or did I? Instead of solo, I asked Lance if wanted to bike with me while I ran.  We ended up both getting a lot of exercise, Lance didn't hate exercising with me, and I didn't feel lonely.  (He didn't ride beside me the whole time--just came and talked to me to break up the monotony and help me open my gels when my fingers grew too cold).  And I ran 18 miles!  I'm feeling more and more confident in my ability to do the marathon in March.

When we got home, Lance made dinner (noodles! yum!), and I took a long shower. We then ate dinner, drank wine, shared chocolate, and watched a disc of Modern Family, which we are both enjoying.

Looking at it, it seems like a boring start to 2012, but I think it sets a good trend: spending time with people I love, eating tasty food, running, reading a good book, and watching a good TV show. What's not to love?

a lovely sunday meal

a lovely sunday dinner, after a long run

solitary meals are often seen as lonely

but me, here, with this explosion of flavor

not too lonely and just right

Normally, Sunday is Potluck Night, but I wasn't feeling much up for it. The mountains of work and the other social events made me just want to burrow at home with Crystal's English as a Global Language, a beer, and a warm bowl of something delicious.  This meal was simple, easy, and satisfying--all a girl home alone could ask for.  Soba noodles cooked in broth with cubed tofu, sauteed beet greens, a hard-boiled egg, and homemade kimchi. Flavor and texture abound.

My month of unprocessed is nearing its end: while I failed to maintain it for the full month, I learned a lot from the experience that I hope to carry into my everyday life.  1.) My body has strange reactions to sugar/highly processed things 2.) A little treat is great maybe once a week.  I might try to aim for that as a goal, perhaps a weekend muffin from my favorite bakery or somesuch.  3.) Simple food is great, homemade food is awesome, but at this point in the semester, it's hard to make a priority.  It turns out that when I'm stressed and short of sleep my body screams SUGARCARBSCHOCOLATE.  I don't much care for that.

Tonight, though: a delightful bowl of soup for an autumnal day.

Oops

I was doing so well with the no-processed.  Then came Fall Break, where I slipped a little.  Then I found myself slipping a little more, and it was no good.  Suddenly the blog posts dropped off as well, so I'm making a valiant effort to get back on track and finish out the challenge, extending it into November and Thanksgiving.

It started with me making some "healthy" muffins.  I ate one and felt terrible--even the small amount of sugars hit my system hard.  But it also triggered my cravings for it, and so I struggled to get back on track, slipping a bit more.

My body really hates sugar, though, and I spent the week feeling tired and draggy, and I'm pretty sure the processed food I was eating was giving me headaches (mostly sweets/baked goods).  Good motivation to get back on the unprocessed challenge, right?

It's hard to make such a huge lifestyle change and not expect to slip, especially when I'm surrounded by food at school and other bombardments.  Instead of pretending like the challenge was so easy, I thought I'd  share my oops moments and how I decided to keep working on eating unprocessed foods for the remainder of the month.  It's totally worth it when I feel so energetic and great, especially compared to right now.

This time of the semester is usually when I struggle with eating right and not just giving in to the sugar craze around me.  I know I work better though when I'm not in a sugar-induced haze.  Here's to getting back up and trying again!

Sweat It Out

In a recent issue of Runner's World, Marc Parent discusses sweating in his "Newbie Chronicles" column.  When he described how he would sweat in many situations that one might not deem sweat-worthy, I totally empathized.  Sweat when nervous? Check. Sweat when moving slightly faster? Check.  Sweat even when it's cold out?  Yep.  I'm not Sister Elizabeth Dunderstock bad, but when I exercise, I definitely sweat a LOT.

Yesterday, I decided to hop over to the HPER for a quick workout before my night class (especially since I missed my beloved Starbucks Wednesday morning run because of rain).  There were only three of us, so she decided to kick our butts with circuits.  After the first one, I was drenched.

I don't usually get embarrassed when I sweat, but glancing at the others in the class, I was the only one who seemed to be dripping all over my equipment.  I felt a little bad, but then kept working out.

It's weird, but I don't feel like I sweat excessively when I run, but maybe that's because I'm usually outside. I like working out outside--it's fun and it's not usually enough to make me want to puke.

Because by the of the class, not only did I look like I got caught in an downpour, but I felt dizzy and weak. I don't normally feel dizzy and weak, even when pushing myself, and I didn't much care for it.  I'm not certain what happened--after cooling down, I then went for a 20 minute run and felt better.  Running is my magic pill, apparently.

I'm sore as all get out today, though, so I know I need to attend those classes more often--I'm trying hard to actually build up strength and keep it.  Do you all ever feel like you just sweat crazy amounts, even when not working out?

Oh, the Stress...

This is that stressful time of the semester.  You know, the one where you're curled in a ball with a stack of books and the pot of coffee beside you, which you drink out of straight because a mug is too much to get between you and the caffeine that you need to maintain basic functions.  The time of the year where you have THIS much to do and >this< much time, and so you start skimping on things like sleeping. Eating. Spending time with loved ones. Going to the gym.  Showering.

Yep, it's the middle of the semester.  Despite how much I try to prevent it from happening, I reach a point in the semester where I get completely overwhelmed.  Coupled with some other stressful occurrences (which hopefully are just tiny misunderstandings that the STRESS made me blow out of proportion), I'm a bit of a mess right now.

But then there was the Fall Break.  We get a Fall Break this year, and I'm gladdened and joyful to know that it's just OVER THERE.  All I have to do is make it a couple of more days, and it'll be in my hand and then I can sleep and catch up and maybe even get a little ahead, as long as I don't collapse into a big pile, leaving a residue of coffee behind.

This is usually the time of the year where I eat and eat and eat.  I give up on my attempts to restrict sugar or stop eating pastries or whatever, and I just go for it.  I usually gain 5 pounds, which is enough to set me back on the path of healthy eating again.  I hate it, but it generally happens like clockwork.

Except for this year.  The month of no processed food has meant that I have been avoiding going where people will offer me delicious things full of sugar and delight.  And the more I've been doing it (11 days and counting!) the more I want to keep on.  Because while I am stressed, I'm feeling generally alert.  Sharper. Perhaps it's wishful thinking and I'm really all slow and say really dumb things, but I feel more on the ball lately.  I've been exercising more regularly than normal too, so that seems to be contributing.

Can I keep this up?  I sure hope so.  It's been one less stressful factor that I usually have to worry about--the not-fun feeling of having to squeeze a slightly larger self into clothes is something I'm glad to leave behind.

Weight Loss, Grad School Style

How to lose weight in several easy steps:

1. Enroll in a graduate program, then teach two classes while taking three. Basically, you won't have time to eat or think about eating (or money to afford expensive eating).  Generally, you might be scarfing down an apple and cheese while running to class, especially if you...
2. Decide to do an unprocessed challenge, where you stop eating and processed/refined foods.  And you attempt to eat your way through a giant box of baby greens on a weekly basis.  Despite the fact that you are eating avocados and large quantities of almond butter and not really counting calories, you will still find yourself losing weight.  This coupled with...
3. The incorporation of some physical activity, like running or biking or yoga, will mean that you'll build up muscles.  Muscles use more energy.

This is probably the weirdest diet I've tried, and perhaps the most effective, but I think it hinges on #2, otherwise I'd be scarfing down scones and junk food as I run to class instead of chowing down on lettuce, carrots, other vegetables and all manner of fruits.   And let's not forget the almond butter.

Joking aside, I feel fantastic eating no processed stuff and eating a lot more vegetables.  Lots of energy and not a strong desire for massive amounts of coffee in the afternoon, where I usually hit a slump and get really tired.  I'm thinking that this might be a more permanent lifestyle change (with exceptions here and there, like once in a while on a weekend or something).  I'll have to decide how sustainable this is for the long term--but thus far, it seems very doable, since I've found quick and easy unprocessed meals (it usually involves throwing stuff on a bed of lettuce).

Home Again, Home Again

After an interesting brunch-meeting and a visit with some pals (and to retrieve my husband), we headed back north after a quick stop at Whole Foods.  I bought a giant pumpkin, which I'll be roasting tomorrow to freeze and eat.  Yum.

Not much to report on the unprocessed challenge front.  I thought breakfast would be easy today, but it turns out that fresh fruit is not part of a normal conference breakfast...we were offered bacon, eggs, biscuits, gravy.  I made a breakfast of eggs and half a biscuit (which I know counts as processed).  My processed food count was as minimal as I could make it, but this morning I just couldn't bear to only eat eggs and coffee (I really was expecting more options, so I did not come prepared), hence the biscuit.  Overall, though, for a weekend out of town, I did very well--I usually return feeling overfull and like my body is completely out of whack.  Not this time!

Upon returning home, I worked on homework, made some more banana oatmeal bars, watched a bit of TV and did some push-ups.  I've been neglecting my strength training, so I'm trying to work a bit back in.  Gotta keep those guns looking good!

I had a great weekend: I got to spend time with friends not seen for far too long, play with small kids (which always reminds me that I love kids but don't want to have to deal with my own right now), present my work, have excellent, intellectual conversations, and escape for a little bit from the pressures of school, of my students, and of the normal daily stuff in general.  Back to the grindstone tomorrow!

Eating Out

As you might imagine, eating out (and traveling) while not eating processed food can be difficult.  I've avoided it thus far, but part of the conference was a dinner out at a nice restaurant.  Since I like to socialize (and think it's important to do at a conference) I went, knowing I could at least find something.

I probably ended up eating something processed, but I tried my best to avoid the main culprits: breads, pastas, and dessert.  The hardest part is just not knowing what they could be putting in/on what might be completely innocent foods, so I probably won't be eating out at all for the rest of this month.  I had a nice piece of fish and some vegetables, and some soup, which was all very tasty, though a bit rich.

I eyed the brownie/ice cream they brought out, but I just called to mind how horrible I'd feel because I knew I couldn't eat just one bite.  I think deprivation is a really bad idea (and a way of mistreating the body and delicious food), so I focused on knowing that I wasn't depriving myself--I was actively making the decision to say no now with the knowledge that I was ultimately treating my body better for it.  It was surprisingly not difficult; instead of thinking so much about food, I focused on having AWESOME conversations with my fellow dining companions.

Which is exactly why I opted to not be completely strict tonight and make do with the best options I had.

Day 6: Travelin' Time

Tonight, I write from not my bed and not my home because I'm a'traveling!  I'm down at my alma mater, presenting at an academic conference and spending a little time with a few of my peeps in the area.  I gave my paper tonight about revision strategies--I thought it went pretty well and is definitely a project that I could develop more.  (Best of all, I got in an academic spat with one of the other folks on the panel, but more about that later).

I was a little worried about my ability to maintain my unprocessed eating ways, but I packed acceptable foodstuffs from home, and I ran by the grocery store to pick up veggies and yogurt, whipping up a quick salad for dinner with avocado, butternut squash, carrots, and Greek yogurt. Pretty delicious and so very easy!  After my quick bite, I headed to a mixer, where I drank a little red wine but shunned the various snacks (which were all extremely processed).  I only kind of wanted it, so points for me!

Okay, back to the academic spat.  I probably shouldn't go into too much detail, but I felt that one of the presenters gave a talk based on bad scholarship.  I didn't really want to confront the presenter about it, but when others seemed to not see the major flaw, I had to say something.  The assumptions and the claims were so baseless and completely drawn from very little data that I am flabbergasted that this person even functions in academia and is listened to.  Given that the individual rolled eyes during my talk and made snide comments about the work I'm doing in my science writing class, I took a bit of pleasure in pointing out the flaws.  In fact, I probably would have kept going except that the moderator diverted the attention to me, where the presenter than sulked off.  I look forward to seeing this person at future conferences and continuing to publicly point out the flaws in the so-called research.  (The person actually cited Google as a source.  Seriously?)

Anyway, off to bed--I have another paper to read in the morning!