In which my bloodwork is back

Last month I went to see my primary care physician for my annual checkup.

This was a big deal because I think it's the first time in forever that I ever went back on schedule. If I had to go to the doctor, I usually blew off the follow-up because I was going to get, eventually (and rightly), The Talk, aka, "You've got to lose weight."

But since getting to goal and maintaining my weight, I am now all about going to the doctors because it's all praise. And you know me, if I'm going to get a compliment, I will be there.

Last year my doctor was super impressed, I think at that point I had lost around 80 pounds. This year, he was over the moon. Not only had I reached a healthy weight, I was staying there. And we all know that staying there - not getting there - is the real fight. (I hate to be the one to tell you this in case you were unaware, but it is the truth.)

Anyway, I was excited to get my bloodwork results back to see how I did. I knew they would be good since I eat very heathy.

And, if I'm reading those < and > right (click for a bigger picture), I think I'm doing just fine.

This is a pretty amazing turnaround from someone who, less than 2 years ago, had dangerously high blood pressure, serious sleep apnea and was pre-diabetic, and is now a vegetarian-bootcamper-runner who works for Weight Watchers.

Food Of The Day: Grilled cheese

My alarm went off at 4:45 am today. I rolled over, hit Off, and then glanced over my left shoulder, surprised there wasn't a child wedged in between me and my husband.

I swung out of bed and shuffled (accurate verb) downstairs.

The first coherent thought in my head: "I want a grilled cheese sandwich."

For real. Who else thinks like this? Times like this I believe I may have a legit mental problem.

Anyway, I haven't had a grilled cheese since I don't know when and I have no idea why I thought of it when I woke up this morning. But I was going to make it happen.

This was good for at least one reason: I've been in a food rut, eating the same-old, same-old and it's good to mix things up.

I had to go to the store later anyway, so I seriously thought about how to construct this sandwich for relatively low Points. Sure, I could whip up a food-porny one with real cheese, real butter and some delicious, hearty not-Points-friendly bread from the bakery.

That's one of the things I love about being a Weight Watcher, we can always find a way to make something lower-Point. It's like a conditioned response, mention a recipe and you can almost see our WW wheels turning, How can I knock that down?

However, I wanted to keep the Points for this endeavor reasonable. If I want to blow out my Points, I'm heading to the bakery and it ain't for bread.

First off, bread - what was I going to use for bread? I could use the - let's face it - crappy, airy, smooshy, really-low-Point bread. But you need decent bread in a grilled cheese and even I'm not cheap enough with my Points to go that route.

I also wanted a decent-size sandwich, so that ruled out good bread in a silver dollar size.

Then it hit me: lavash. Lavash! I love lavash bread. It's my favorite bread. I use it as a wrap. I eat it as toast. I use it as pizza crust. And a whole sheet (pretty big, like a foot long) is only 2 Points.

So I got my lavash and then checked out the Points hit on 2% cheese. 2 Points per slice. Eh, pass. I checked out Weight Watchers cheese and found a Pepper Jack for 1 Point per slice. This would do.

I got home and cut the lavash in half, then half again (2 Points). Two sandwiches! I added 2 slices of cheese to each sandwich (4 Points total) and covered each with 1T of real fake butter (1 Point). Real fake butter as in this stuff, not I Can Believe It's Butter-Flavored Chemicals (which I do use).

I threw them on the griddle, saddled them with a bacon press and watched them like a hawk so they didn't burn. Seriously, I don't watch my children as closely as I did these sandwiches.

They smelled awesome. The lavash browned and the cheese started to bubble out of the side. Done.

Wow, so good. Seriously, for 7 Points, two cheesy, gooey, buttery sandwiches. Make it happen, heed my pre-dawn food cravings. You won't be sorry.

In which I get strong

Thwack.

Ooof.

Thwack.

Ooof.

Thwack.

Ooof.

It was about 6:20 am and I stood perpendicular to a concrete wall, about 10 feet away, repeatedly hurling an 8-lb medicine ball at said wall in the scariest-ever solo game of catch.

The exercise was scary only because my mind was wandering. If I didn't start paying attention, I would soon do what I did just a couple of weeks ago and be rewarded for my inattention with an 8-lb med ball right to the lady business.

I stood sideways across from the wall, behind the blue cone as instructed. I held the ball to my outside hip and rotated through my hips, hucking that med ball at the wall and catching it when it flew back: Ooof. And it flew, landing with a thwack and snapping back toward me like a cannonball.

It was the velocity that surprised me, causing me to think: Wow, I don't remember ever throwing the ball this hard.

And the I realized: Because you couldn't. And then, thankfully, the bell rang and it was time to move on to the bench press.

I've written it before, but it's still true: When you get in shape, the most fun realizations can be the ones you don't expect. Like suddenly being able to run 3 miles or saying good-bye to the plus-size section forever.

I had another such moment yesterday when I pulled out the lawn mower for the first time this season. I enjoy mowing the lawn, but I always hated starting our cruddy push mower. It usually took me several pulls, flooding the engine a couple of times and pulling some muscle in my right arm before I, pissed off, trudged in the house looking for my husband to start 'er up.

One time I had to ask my good friend and neighbor to do it, and she still gives me grief:

"Hey, remember the time I needed to start the -"

"Oh, shut up."

So yesterday I pulled the mower out of storage and let it bake in the sun for an hour or so. I came out, made sure the kids were occupied in the garage, adopted the stance, squeezed the handle, held my core tight, grabbed the pull cord and yanked.

Vvrrooooooom!

One pull, one start. Well, hot damn.

I looked around, hoping any other adult in the neighborhood was outside so I could give them a cocky nod, a la, "No, I am not surprised. And, yes, I am the shit." but, figures, no one was around. Damn.

My first instinct was to hop up and down, hands in the air triumphant, a la Rocky, but I realized if I did, the engine would stop and my celebration would be for naught.

Bootcamp, weight loss, life. The challenges seems big, the mountains to climb, high. But, cliched as it sounds, you take little step after little step, pound after pound, class after class and it all builds up.

Your little wins accumulate and, one day, out of the blue, they become something cool, something big, and you can start the damn mower yourself.

In which it's my 1-year anniversary at bootcamp

Two weeks before I started bootcamp (left), 54 weeks later (right).

A little over a year ago, my friend Deb said, "You should come to bootcamp!"

We were sitting in her kitchen talking about this and that, and the conversation eventually came around to weight loss and exercise. At that point, I had lost around 70 lbs and was in the middle of the Couch to 5K program.

Deb had been going to bootcamp for 2 years and raved about it. "It's hard," she said, "but it's worth it."

I greatly valued her opinion because neither one of us were jocks. Plus, I knew she had a bad back. If she could do it, enjoy it and keep going back for more, maybe I could, too.

I had been watching Biggest Loser and I was intrigued by the bootcamp/trainer idea. I didn't want to get yelled at, but I wanted the results and expertise, and I knew I had to start toning up.

I hated (and still do hate) free weights and I knew I could not self-motivate in the gym to regularly get through a Nautilus circuit. Plus, you know, I didn't know what the hell I was doing.

I really started to think about joining her at bootcamp. I told myself that if I could make classes in my very limited availability, then it was meant to be and I would give it a go. Well, what do you know, I could actually make the classes. Maybe this would work after all.

"The only thing is," Deb cautioned, "you get addicted."

Pffft, as if.

I contacted Paul, the owner and lead trainer (right), about signing up and the rest is, seriously, the very best thing I have ever done for myself.

I distinctly remember walking into my first class. It was Friday, April 1 - fittingly, April Fool's Day - and it was snowing. A lot. So much so I wondered if class was on.

I was super nervous about my first class. I was an overweight world-class gym class hater in high school and here I was, still overweight and paying money to attend what was like an adult gym class. What was I thinking?

I was so tempted to bail due to the weather and my rampaging nerves, but I sucked it up and just kept thinking, OK, Deb does this. She would not set me up for something bad.

So I walked in, made it through class and never stopped coming back.

I have written about bootcamp - a lot - so I won't revisit everything, but feel free to peruse, it's all pretty good stuff, if I do say so myself.

I will say it took me about a month to get over being nervous before every class. But every class I did, I got a little more confident. There was no yelling, just encouragement and quiet form correction, and no other campers were paying attention to me because they were just trying to get through the circuit themselves.

One great thing about bootcamp is there is still so much to learn, so much more at which I can get better, faster and stronger. Just when I think I'm awesome, I'll get some crazy upper body circuit that leaves me so sore that I wince when I put on my bra the next morning. Or intervals, like this morning, when I started sucking wind after the first exercise and didn't stop until after cool down.

Or the humbling times, like two days ago when I was slamming the medicine ball repeatedly in the ground, took my eyes off it and it bounced straight up and hit me in the business. Eight pounds, right to the groin. Thankfully (or not), only Paul and I witnessed it. Too bad he wasn't taping it, we could have made some cash on America's Funniest Home Videos.

Or this morning, when I went to do rows with tubing that is secured to the wall. Except instead of going to the secure tubing I went to the wall where it hangs unsecured and just kept ripping tubing after tubing off the rack, wondering how the hell I all of a sudden was as strong as the Hulk. I may be smaller, but still occasionally just as dim.

When I was overweight, I lived in a world of self-imposed can't.

I can't do that because:

I am too fat.

I will look silly.

I will fail.

I will embarrass myself.

Bootcamp has shown me through sweat (no blood or tears) that I can.

The leaps and bounds I have made in my physical development have been exceeded only by my gains in self-confidence and self-esteem.

I could then and I can now. All you've got to do is try. It's a lesson that took me 40 years to learn, and one I want to pass onto my children much, much sooner.

In which I don't want to be thin

All my life I wanted to be thin. Skinny, slender, you name it.

But I was running recently, trying to think about anything other than running and my thoughts wandered to the word "thin" and how I always assumed thin people were fit.

I've realized over the past year that is not the case.

I've seen plenty of thin people in bootcamp, bent over sucking wind while heavier people continue hopping, jumping, pushing up or what have you.

I've run races in which I've breezed by trim people puking in the bushes or being attended to by medical personnel.

"Thin" doesn't always equal "fit" or "strong."

I caught my reflection in the mirror the other day. I had my hair pulled back under a baseball cap (Hint: If I'm wearing a baseball cap, I haven't done my hair, which means I haven't showered. Fair warning). What I saw took me by surprise. My face was all angles. I had one chin - weak, for sure, but only one. My skin looked streamlined, not inflated and doughy like it used to, my features and cheekbones pronounced.

All I could think was, "I look strong." And, also, "I need a shower."

Plenty of people lovingly call me thin and I would never turn down the compliment. But I'd rather be called "strong" or "fit" because that's where the rubber meets the road - at least on the road or in the gym.

When I started working out, like running or bootcamp (stuff outside my comfort zone) I was petrified of being embarrassed or standing out because when you're overweight, all you want to do is blend in, hide in the background.

But I quickly realized: No one was paying attention to me, but me. When it's 6 am and you're hoping on and off a box or pushing a metal weighted sled up and down the gym, frankly you don't give a shit about anything else but getting through the next 60 seconds until the damn bell rings.

When you're in the gym on a treadmill, you just want the boring miles to pass as quickly as possible - and, if you're me, not fall off said treadmill and hopefully find a Law & Order episode on the TV. Trust me.

If you're holding back from trying something because you're worried someone will think ill of you or you may embarrass yourself, I can tell you, don't worry. If anything, the trainers and your fellow classmates want nothing but to see you succeed. Because it means someone else is as crazy as they are: Another soul who could be sleeping in but is busting hump trying to get fit - not thin.

The best thing I ever did fitness-wise is gently, tentatively step outside my comfort zone. The more I tried, the more I could do and the larger that comfort zone got. The braver, stronger, more confident and kick-ass I got. And humble, let's not forget that.

If there's something you've been dying to try, fitness or otherwise, dip your toe in the water. Do some research on what you need (time, money, equipment, experts, a class) to try what you want and go for it.

It may not be your cup of tea, or it may be the best thing you've ever done. Either way, it's a victory, and who can't use another one of those?

In which there are surprises in my drawers

If you're like me, the minute you read "drawers" you thought "pants" and laughed to yourself as if you were 12.

However, I meant "drawers" as in "where you keep your clothes." Interesting side note, "drawers" is one word I absolutely cannot pronounce due to a lifetime of living in New England and my natural aversion to the letter "r". If I try to say it correctly, I sound like I'm having a stroke.

Regardless, this week like most of the country we here in Massachusetts have been enjoying unseasonably, wonderfully warm summer weather. March to July, boom, just like that.

Needless to say I didn't have any of my summer clothes readily accessible, so I was digging around in my drahs for T-shirts, light jackets, capris and the like, all of which I haven't worn since last fall.

On Tuesday I dug out a cute knit zip-up hoodie from LL Bean. I put it on, zipped it up and thought, Didn't this use to be much tighter? This must be a Large. Wow, it's big.

When I shed it later that day I checked the tag. It's a Medium. Damn, I am way smaller.

What's really interesting is that since last fall, my scale has stayed in the same 5-lb range, so numbers-wise, nothing has really changed. But, body-wise? Thanks to bootcamp, my upper body is suddenly much smaller than it used to be.

You hear it all the time: "It's not just the scale." And it's true, especially when you get down to a healthy weight range where your body is happy. At some point, your body will be like, "Nuh-uh. I am done losing weight. I ain't movin'."

At this stage of the game, the numbers on the scale may not move like they used to, but the numbers on your clothes still can. There are victories still to be won. This is also where strength training is so key - not just for your physical health, but your mental health, as well.

However you do it, strength training builds strong, healthy, lean bodies. And the mental lift you get from wearing smaller clothes is a big ego stroke and mood enhancer.

Later in the week, I dug out some T-shirts that were, shall we say, "snug", when I last tried them on in the fall. They were in the bottom of the drah, the "Well, I Don't Like How They Fit Now But I Don't Want To Donate Them Yet" category. But I needed Ts because I was behind (again/still) on laundry. I tried them on and, what do you know, now they're loose and comfortable.

Previous to the past 18 months, my drawers usually only held bad surprises. They were full of clothes that barely fit or were too tight. Now, a season later, I can pull out anything, everything and it fits or, worse, is too big.

Nice problem to have.

Food Of The Day: Quinoa

I believe I am the last veggie on earth to get into quinoa.

I've been hearing about it for a year now, as much as I heard about kale chips. I've had a box of quinoa in the pantry for months, but I never got around to making it. I think I was relatively intimidated by the fact I have historically stunk at making rice (I always seem to burn it even though I follow the directions) and quinoa is in the same ballpark.

However, I finally made a plan to try it and I am very happy I did. It's delicious, fluffy, light and tastes nuttier than rice. And it came out perfectly on the stovetop.

Last night I had a bowl (240g cooked, 5 Points Plus) with some baked almond feta, lemon juice and a little kosher salt. So good. 240g is a lot of quinoa, another reason to keep using your food scale.

Today I was jonesing for a light stir fry, so I went to the store and nabbed some carrots, red pepper, peas, zuchinni and scallions. I put 2t olive oil in my wok and stir fried the veg until they were crisp/tender. Gorgeous.



Then I added the 240g of cooked leftover quinoa from last night and heated it all up in the wok. I added a little lemon juice and a touch of kosher salt. Delicious and crazy filling, just what I needed on a day when I was low on Points and high on a need for being full as long as possible.

The 1c of quinoa and the mountain of vegetables made a ridiculous amount of food. Almost embarrassing. Almost.

I can see why quinoa is such a hot topic among foodies and vegetarians/vegans. It's so versatile. A friend asked, "What else can you do with it?"

I answered: "I think it's easier to list what you can't."