I weigh too much. Or rather, I weigh too much for the racer I want to be. My weight, 120-122 lbs., is perfectly normal for a 5’3¾” female and make no mistake, I like my body just fine, you won’t hear me say it’s fat because it isn’t. But it’s time to buckle down to a more runnerly weight if I want to do this thing up right. I’m not talking scary skinny, just a modest 115, the weight I was at shortly last year during that cool growth spurt.
If I’m to be honest, I’m pretty certain that weight is the main culprit behind my plateau. I’ve thought this for months, in fact, but didn’t say it aloud because talking about the power of a few lbs sounds silly and minor, but it isn’t. I’d hoped that continued training would compensate for being heavier, and it probably has by equalizing it, but it hasn’t been effective enough to overtake it.
Despite eating clean – whole grains, tons of veggies and fruit – I snack when I’m not hungry and I’m also portion-challenged. Worse still, is when my weight is heading downward, I sabotage myself with “I can eat this extra-mammoth bowl of pasta because I’m skinny right now” – which totally counteracts the loss. It’s a childish diet defiance that amounts to shooting myself in the foot.
So enough with this loosey-goosey crap. This weekend I plunked down some dough at Amazon for a super fancy Tanita scale that gives body fat% and even body water%, which will be especially useful, given my proclivity for thirsty hospital visits. Supposedly it’s quite accurate as long as you’re consistent with when you take the readings.
I’m also pretty sure this new scale will reveal my current cheapy scale to be off by a couple lbs (something already suspected from doctor’s office visits). If so, I’d like to get down to true 115, not the 117 I think I thought my 115 was.
Speaking of potentially false readings, I also own a hand-held bodyfat device from Omron that insists I’m 24% body fat. I’ve nicknamed it “that piece of shit”. I found some pictures online of what people look like at different bodyfat percentages (scroll down for the ladies), and please, I’m not 24%. Anyway, I’m looking forward to what the fancy-schmancy scale says.
I also ordered Matt Fitzgerald’s Racing Weight book and have started back with measuring food and counting calories (1800/day), at least until I get a handle on portion sizes again. I’ll still have fun food (mmm…pancakes) and enjoy those fab margarita dates with my pal Lara, but no more standing at the kitchen counter with a package of crackers in one hand, a tub of hummus in the other and no idea of how much I’ve just ingested. Mindful: that’s the word from here on in.
Lastly, I did something entirely prepubescent: I found an Elite Masters racer who’s got a similar body type as mine (albeit thinner), printed off a couple photos of her and stuck them on the wall. No, she won’t get those sweet kisses I once gave Bobby Sherman, but she reminds me of my goal and confirms that you don’t have to look like a tendon to be in the game, you can be healthy-looking, strong and beautiful.
Some Fun Links
Coupla things. In a comment to one of his posts, my blogger pal Joe posted links to some cool slow-motion videos of elites at the Boston Marathon so you can see the variety of different landing positions. From forefoot to heel-striking, everyone’s represented. Check out the Elite leaders and Ryan Hall. Also, watch Jack Daniels talking about footstrike. Good stuff.
Another fellow blogger, Julie, started a new site a few weeks ago about women hoping to qualify at the Olympic Trials, called Houston Hopefuls. So far she’s interviewed another blogging friend (and super fast chick) Jaymee Marty, along with a couple other fast babes, so take a look-see for some speedy female inspiration.
Oh yeah…my runs
Running was extraordinarily hot this weekend, 90 heat index at 6am, but I took it slow so it wasn’t that bad. 6 on Saturday, 14 on Sunday, rounding out a 59mi week. The hamstring feels great! The ankle feels great! Today was 8mi with 12 x 30/60 hills (museum ramps). A break in the morning temps made it fabulous.