Making a Point

When I first added exercise to my life, I told myself I shouldn't and wouldn't do anything I wasn't willing to continue doing long-term, like enrolling in a health club. I hate gyms and knew I wouldn't go after the first week.

Dillypoo has commitment issues.

I also didn't want to invest in a lot of exercise contraptions that might collect dust and laundry before being hauled off to the Goodwill. But after promising The Professor he could dispose of any gym equipment unused for six months, I accepted a free treadmill from a friend and bought a five dollar NordicRider at a yard sale.

Dillypoo loves a bargain, especially when it's free.

And since Dillypoo is a cheap commitment phobe, I started walking because that didn't require a membership anywhere or expensive equipment. I bought a good pair of sneakers though, even if I do think they're ugly.

Dillypoo's passion for shoe shopping overrides my disdain for athletic footwear.

I used the treadmill at first, setting it up in the dining room to face a big window overlooking the backyard. I was surprised at how much I enjoyed it, especially after discovering audiobooks.

Dillypoo listened to all seven Harry Potter books while walking in the dining room. Twice.

Eventually, I stopped looking out the window and started walking in the park. I remember thinking I shouldn't overdo it or get carried away with this "walking thing." I set my expectations low. I still couldn't (or wouldn't) commit to exercise as a reliable, long-term solution to weight control. I focused my efforts on what I was eating instead.

Dillypoo had yet to abandon the dream of staying skinny while at the Taco Bell drive-thru window.

But slowly, I began to see changes as a result of walking. Not only were the pounds slowly melting away, but my body was re-shaping itself. Things like bones and muscles started to appear, parts of my anatomy unseen or long forgotten. I was getting strong.

Dillypoo likes being strong.

Then one day I started running. Short distances at first and only occasionally. Walking was my main source of activity. But I really liked running. I thought I was hot stuff when I ran my first mile without stopping.

Dillypoo has always believed in setting expectations low so they're easy to exceed.

A few months after those first, short runs in the park, I unintentionally ran a 5K race. I had planned to run the first mile and walk the last two, but it was cold that Thanksgiving morning and I wanted to get to my warm car. So I ran the entire distance to avoid freezing to death.

Dillypoo didn't want to spoil the holidays for family.

Afterwards, I set my sights on longer distances and began training with a group. I ran my first 10K race, and then a second. I started training for a half-marathon.

Dillypoo had finally committed to exercise as part of a healthy way of life.

During all of this, I discovered other bloggers on similar journeys. They've lost weight and also learned to run. But lately, they've started blogging about how running is no longer fun. It's become something that must be done instead of something joyful. I love running and I don't want it to be a chore.

Dillypoo wants to keep her joy of running.

So I've started telling myself to take it slowly again. Last month I decided I am not going to run my first half-marathon in December. Even though I've been training all summer, my real intention for joining the group was to keep running though the hottest months of the year. Which I did. And I still want to run a half, but I want my first half-marathon to be the same as my first 10K: The Cowtown in February.

Dillypoo can be sentimental sometimes.

I also want to start walking again, because somewhere along the way I stopped and I miss it. So now I'm walking and running. In the park, in my neighborhood and sometimes with The Professor and Stella. We walk to dinner and sit outside with Stella under the table at our feet. Giving myself the choice to run or walk is making my new, active lifestyle more interesting and keeping it fun.

Which was the whole point all along.

Feeding The Professor

One of the downsides to working a lot of hours is I never see The Professor except on weekends. He's asleep when I get home at night and either asleep or on the throne when I leave in the morning.

He'll probably be annoyed I said that, but it's true. I can't make up stuff that good.

I miss him during the week (when I have time to stop and think about it). I send him random text messages with little hearts and stars. Love notes in the digital age.

And I worry about him when he's left alone for long stretches. As awesome as he is, he's still a man-child who needs looking after. Case in point: He can't feed himself.

I discovered last weekend he has been living off of boiled eggs, cheddar cheese and peanut butter sandwiches since my workload exploded.

Dillypoo: "Did you like the lunchmeat I bought last weekend?"

The Professor: "Yeah, the roast beef was good. We're out of bread and there's nothing to eat."

Dillypoo: "What do you mean? There's a pot roast in the fridge you can heat and bags of frozen vegetables in the freezer."

The Professor: "We're out of cheese and eggs, too."

So I made him a casserole on Sunday. He's been eating it all week long. With sides of cheese and boiled eggs.

And the pot roast?

It's still in the fridge, too. Untouched and ready for dinner this weekend.

Hello Again

Holy carp! It's been more than a month since I last blogged. Going this long between posts means Dillypoo is in serious blog withdrawal.

I've been blogging inside my head all of this time, though. Does that count for anything? Because ya'll have missed a lot.

There was the post celebrating my one year anniversary of being at goal. Yay me!

And the one about being a zombie after working 70+ hours last week. I was almost at the brain eating stage when Saturday finally rolled around and I was able to sleep.

I also had a very whiny post about my Worst. Run. Ever. I've been working so many hours I haven't been training much for my half-marathon. I even missed two Saturday group runs and ran smack into The Wall last Sunday trying to run a measly six miles.

You also missed my amazement at reaching my lowest weight yet for a total of 60 pounds gone, achieved despite my irregular running schedule.

There were also witty posts about Pottermore sorting me into Gryffindor instead of Ravenclaw, my dog Stella greeting a guest by peeing in front of him at the front door and other Dillypoo nonsense.

Really, you should try and get inside my head. Especially if I'm too busy to post anything on-line.

Or, you can join me in my newest obsession: Words With Friends. Find me. I'm dillypooo with an extra "o." Just let me know who you are and that you're a blog reader!

Hugs to anyone out there still checking in on Dillypoo! Hopefully, I'm back for regular blog business.