When my name was called at the pediatric dentist I walked through the mystery door to find my girls in a tiki hut being watched over by a bevy of beauties in bright pink scrubs. To my right with his hand extended was Doctor Kevin.
This was not your ordinary dentist.
Dr. Kevin was actually Adorable Doctor Kevin. His friendly smile was the invitation to stare at his dark tousled hair and almond skin. Young. Enthusiastic. A dreamy kind of guy who had visited the girls pre-school a week before.
My little stinkers knew exactly who was waiting for them, which explains the skip hop that happened as they were ushered to the back. While I was silently praying for a visit sans tantrum, they were on the other side playing and being cute under the watchful eyes of their first doctor crush.
When we left they had (not only) new toothbrushes, but enough stickers to cover the front and back of a shirt and three-inch plastic fairies, the kind you find at the Target checkout.
My own visit to the doctor yesterday was not nearly as splendid. I wasn’t sent home with toys or stickers. Just a good arm prick from the blood suckers and advice that I already knew before being told.
“Isn’t there something you can give me for my weight?” I asked.
“Well actually, Miss Martha, there is a new drug that suppresses appetite. The FDA pulled it back, though. And besides. It’s not safe.”
His wry smile told me he wouldn’t prescribe it even if it was on the market.
After a good long discussion about my running and the fact that I’ve gained a whopping twenty pounds since the last time I saw him three months ago (a teensy bit of it muscle), we decided that I must figure out how to handle the eating while running factor in a way that keeps me strong and healthy, lighter and with more energy for day-to-day tasks.
The good news is that since I’m continuing to run as much as I do the need for Metformin has been quelled. Fewer drugs are good. I know this, despite the fact that I’d pop a pill to make me less hungry in half a second.
He wasn’t sure about my training plan, but suggested that I run four miles per day (five, ugh, days a week) with a long run on the weekend. My good doctor will check with a marathoning endocrinologist friend of his to see what he thinks of this plan. The goal is to keep my blood sugars balanced, while also addressing the hunger that comes with running much higher mileage.
It’s tricky, but it is imperative if I am going to meet the goal of overall health and hapiness (one cannot be happy without health I don’t think).
Being healthy and happy encompasses a lot.
Not only does the athlete in me make me want to run faster, the mother in me knows that my food choices (good and bad) are being passed down to my children. The patient in me thinks she’s happy that the doctor didn’t throw meds at the situation and the fighter in me is determined to make long-lasting changes to my diet that will keep gall stones and adrenal failure at bay (finding ones birth family also means finding ones genetic history).
My journey toward total overall health has left me with this one last obstacle. Without much fore-thought, I hopped in the Sequoia and found myself in the parking lot in front of Jenny Craig.
I had done Jenny Craig in 1989. I was a 150 pound eighteen year old whose boyfriend told her she’d be so much prettier if she lost a little weight. I did, as a matter of fact lose the weight and thankfully the boyfriend, too, though the pain of that loss stuck around much longer than the ugly twenty five pounds that eventually crept back on.
This time I’d be doing it for me.
I left the Jenny office with three bags of food and a plan for every meal to be eaten over the next week.
Not being required to make food choices for a while is a relief. My friend Joanna at Poppy’s Style wrote an amazing post about her own struggle with weight and her experience with Jenny Craig. It was her piece that gives me the courage to write about this today (thanks Joanna!).
She replied to an email I sent her yesterday telling her about my day.
“It’s like hitting the reset button!” she said.
“Utter brilliance,” I say. This is exactly how it should be viewed.
Surely over the next few weeks the numbers on the scale will go down and the clothes in my closet will button and zip more easily.
Strangely enough, though, despite better fitting clothes and blood sugars that stay put, the best part for me may be the PR that I see in my future.
Some girls put pictures of skinny models on their refrigerators as motivation for weight loss.
I’m creating an imaginary splits list. My times will go lower as each mile is marked (negative splits) and I will finish my half marathon in under 2 hours and fifteen minutes (ten minutes faster than my fastest half yet).
A goal to look toward that seems within reach.
Reset button being pushed, ready, set, go!