Running. With BlueBuds.

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6:10 am.  70° F.  Humidity: 100%.  Thick.  A mood dampener.

After an unexpected, unexplainable and unacceptable two-pound jump last week, Gadget Man replaced the seven-year old bathroom scale. I don’t need to wait three seconds of interminable flashing to see my test scores.  If you aren’t getting results, replace the equipment. Pull the band-aid off and hit me.

The new scale is sweet.  I step on the scale and it snaps to attention.  No waiting, no flashing, no bad scores.  This morning, this incredible technology signalled that I was a mere one pound higher than the challenge target, with another month to go.  Now we’re talking.

Yet, what a miserable journey this has been.  Rationing ice cream.  Mouth salivating for pasta.  A 3-cookie daily portion limit. People, this is not living.  And the real question is whether this is sustainable.

This morning, I’m determined to drive this weight down.  Way down below target to give me cushion. In one run.

My head is saying: 10 miles.
My body: Groaning. [Read more…]

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