Shameless Flirting

I'm sitting in Starbucks and it's packed. I'm at a small round table by the door and the only open table in the house is a two-top so close to my table it's practically on top of it. Two slow-talking southern gentlemen in jeans and rain jackets who I'm guessing are early to mid 70's just approached with their coffee. 

"Mind if we sit there?" they drawled, nodding toward the table. 

"Not at all," I said. "I was hoping two good-looking men would come along and sit by me."

They perked up, smiling. "Well, I'm just sorry he's one of your options," said one, nodding toward his friend as they squeezed in at the table. 

"Do you like oatmeal-raisin cookies?" asked the friend, ignoring his friend's barb. "'Cause I have two in this bag and I'm more inclined to share with you then this fella here." 

I politely declined the cookie but sat and chatted with the two of them for a few minutes about running, gyms, the weather. The one man kept trying to share his oatmeal-raisin cookie with me. 

"Lord girl, you ain't got an ounce of fat on you. You need this cookie."  

Now they're sitting next to me, quietly discussing life - one is picking his dog up from the vet and can't wait to have him home and the other is having some trouble with his alternator in his truck. 

Lovely men, and a lovely break for me on this rainy day.

Great Race, But I Still Hate 5K's

Today I ran a 5K as part of the Human Race. 

The optimist sees... I set a PR! New time of 22:03. 

The pessimist sees... I walked for about 5 seconds coming up the last hill. If I hadn't, I would have bagged my first ever 21-something 5k time.

The optimist thinks... 5k's are a great way to build speed and spend time with friends. 

The pessimist thinks... 5k's *%@#ing HURT.

The optimist says... The only way to improve at 5k's is to run more of them!

The pessimist says... Wake me up for the next marathon...

So am I an optimist or pessimist? I'll quote the little girl I spoke with in Starbucks this last Halloween. She was dressed as a witch and I asked her if she was a good witch, or a bad witch. She cocked her head, thought about it, then answered, "I'm a little bit of both." 

Cheers,

Dena

Cheater Cheater, Sugar Eater

Today's post is a public shaming. I figure if I'm going to brag about the good times, I should be honest about the bad. 

Earlier this week I crowed celebrated blogged about how cutting out sugar had led to some weight loss. Shortly thereafter, I fell off the no-sugar bandwagon. Bumpity-bump-bump. Yesterday at Starbucks I gave in to cravings and enjoyed a dark-chocolate graham square--at 22 grams of sugar! I've also had some bananas and today I ate kale sauteed in orange juice and sprinkled with raisins. I also had some french bread and wine with dinner. How about some sugar with that sugar, sug-ah?  

I FEEL TERRIBLE. As in, physically ill. My stomach is queasy and I've had a small headache that started about two hours after I ate the chocolate graham square and that hasn't gone away since. 

Is it the sugar making me feel bad? I don't know, but it seems a reasonable guess. That's the only thing I've changed in my diet/routine. And after eating each of the sugary items, I felt fine for about 30 minutes and then I just felt... yech. 

This is good. It reinforces the message that I'm better off without the sugar. The kale and occasional banana, fine. But the bread and chocolate need to go bye-bye. (The wine is not going anywhere. Don't even think it.) 

So back to it. No refined sugar. Go team no-sugar!

Just someone, please... keep me away from Starbucks.

Busted

About a week ago, I had an hour to kill before meeting a new client. I hadn't had lunch and my stomach was growling as I slipped into a Starbucks. I was already drooling at the thought of treating myself to a "low-fat" blueberry muffin or--just maybe--one of their doughnuts that contain enough calories to feed a small village in India for a week. YUM.

As I'm rocking back and forth on my heels, peering into the goodie counter, I look up and across the room--directly into the eyes of my trainer who is watching me with a big-ass grin on his face. 

I walked over to where he was sitting. "Can you believe people actually eat the stuff they have in there?" I asked motioning to the display case and shaking my head in dismay. "Really, it's sad." 

"Uh-huh," he said. 

SO busted. I sighed and went back to the counter and ordered a grande decaf which, I have to say, was nowhere near as satisfying as a muffin or doughnut. Ben wouldn't have said anything if I had ordered the biggest muffin there, but it would have been hard to eat it, knowing I would be working out with him in a couple of hours. 

Busted and ego-bruising, but I didn't have to sweat off the extra 900 calories. Probably a fair trade.