My liver be like...NO

A few weeks ago my doctor asked me how much alcohol I consumed on a daily basis. The answer is none. I’ve never been able to drink much because I’m one of those Asians that turns fire-engine red and has trouble breathing after only a few sips. Alcohol intolerance – now THAT is a kill before the buzz can even start. I don’t mind, though. At least I don’t have to worry about breaking my piggy or calorie bank in that area like I do with all of my other questionable habits.

Nope. The reason the doctor asked is because my liver is in a state of unrest.  It has staged a revolution in response to my lifetime “Let me eat cake” decree.  Never one for the laissez-faire approach, I rule with an iron double fist helping of sweet and salty nomness, all day, errrrday. Tous les jours. Oh, liver. It's in the process of quitting my ass. It’s fat and it’s angry and it wants to do away with my body wreckonomics policy.

à bientôt, Sucka!

Now I know I haven’t been kind to this temple over the many years we’ve been together, but that’s because my mind is always talking, talking, talking.

Me: I think you need a donut.

Me: Yes, I think so.

Me:  God, you're easy.

Me: Nate would tend to disagree.

Me:  Get an extra one for later.

Me: You silver tongued serpent. I shall do that forthwith.

Viva la French cruller!

Replace the word “donut” with any other edible item aside from a vegetable, and you have my daily life in a chocolate ganache covered nutshell. I was born hungry! No, that’s simply untrue. I eat even when I’m not hungry, but now is not the time to peel back the seven layers of that particular burrito.

Viva la Taco Bell!

Actually, I've been pretty good lately because I’ve rediscovered the reason why I wanted to get healthy in the first place. No, not the wedding. A baby.  And even though my past transgressions have caught up to me, the doctor says I can still put the brakes on the damage if I continue to eat better and exercise.

So I started doing this:

 

Pre-run: all smiles and shit

....which started out great!

Lap 1: ok, I got this –oooh, "Counting Stars”.  I love One Republic! Am I too old for One Republic? Lately I’ve been, I’ve been counting sheep, dreaming about the things that I can eat (doesn’t that defeat the purpose though?). Oh, look at that slow person right there. How sad – you got this! Good job! Wow, I'm like a mentor or something.

Lap 2: I think I hate this. Because I’m crappy…crap along if you feel like you’re a house without a roof...because I'm crappy...

Lap 3: Why is it so hot? Should I stop? Should I just stop right now? OMG am I crying?

Lap 4: OMG, I'm crying.

Post-run: zero smiles left to give

It wasn’t always this way. One of my proudest achievements was beating a bunch of big kids in a foot race when I was six years old. To this day, I love telling Nate in great dramatic flair how I became known as “fast girl” (not to be confused with “fat girl” as previously discussed in another post).   Although his responses are always suspicious in nature  – “I don’t believe you.”  “Are you lying again?” “Why can’t you do that now?” – I still revel in the memory of once being able to run a mile in less than 18 minutes. Yes, 18 minutes.  That's how long it took last week.

Honestly though, I don’t hate exercise as much as my mind is always trying to lead me to believe. I really like Zumba, swimming, and self-defense classes (because you never know when you need to go on the attack). I just HATE running.  Unfortunately, it's one of the only things that works for me. When I'd go 3-4 times a week during triathlon training, there was a noticeable change in my body and energy level.  Even my brain felt happy!

So that’s why I’m at it again. Sure, I’m slow.  Geez, I think my grandma could’ve beaten my time, and she was paralyzed on one side of her body. In 1995, she competed in - AND WON -  St. Edna's annual wheelchair race. She even made the front page of the Orange County Register. So what’s my excuse, really?

My goal is not to try and beat Nate’s time of just under six minutes (5:56!). Um, NO. That would be crazy and impossible. For now I'd be happy with just getting myself to run more than once a week. Then we’ll see about getting that time down.

I guess that's what playlists are for. 90's hip hop, here I come.

 Running theme song for July (because I've got the power!)