Is a rotisserie chicken.
I know, I know, you guys have thought of this a zillion times. But the idea of buying a cooked rotisserie chicken and using it all week was a phenom to me.
You know, this whole cooking at home this is going pretty well so far. Last Thursday and last Friday y’all had some great ideas for recipes and foodie blogs. My foodie blog folder in google reader is burstin’ at the seams now. And I’m excited.
So thanks for that. You guys are such givers.
And as you know, I made this dinner last week…
It was yummy. For multiple days.
For that meal[s], I had shredded the whole chicken and had probably two cups left. So yesterday I bought some whole wheat rolls and BBQ sauce [yes, Scotland has good BBQ sauce. I know. It’s crazy talk. But it’s true]. Then I just did a little mixin’ with that leftover chicken and blah-dow!
So I think the ole BFF rotisserie chicken will be sticking around for a while. And check out that orange! A real beaut. I mean, it’s no salad, but it is a start. 🙂
Eating healthy. Walking all over Edinburgh. It’s a good start, people. A good start.
I knew you’d be proud.
Questions for you:
When I read Don Miller’s book A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, it kinda changed my life. Great books will do that. I would insert about fifty quotes here if my copy of the book wasn’t in some storage unit on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean. [Books are heavy. Very few made the trip to Scotland.]
But the one quote from Don that doesn’t leave my mind is the quote about an inciting incident.
“…the inciting incident is how you get (characters) to do something. It’s the doorway through which they can’t return, you know. The story takes care of the rest.”
Because my dear friend Bianca was brave yesterday, and because it’s been on my heart a while, I’m gonna talk about it.
I am so not good at this eating healthy, working out, treating my body well thing. I mean, I am SO not good at it.
And I think about it every day.
I worry about fitting into bridesmaid dresses that are already hanging in my closet and I worry about caring too much that it becomes an obsession. The scale calls my name from across the apartment and yet when I avoid it for months at a time, well, NO good comes of that.
I try and I fail and I try and I fail and I go to a counselor and I try and I fail.
But I don’t quit. Maybe I’ll fight this every day for the rest of my life, but I will fight it. I won’t quit.
One of the best parts of living in Edinburgh is that fast food and eating out isn’t as much of an option here. It’s just not the culture. People eat at home. And I, well, since I don’t have a car [I wouldn’t know what to do with it even if I did] and don’t really know my way around this neighborhood, I have an inciting incident on my hands.
I am being forced to cook.
It’s just me. My kitchen. And my Tesco Metro.
Being taken out of my drive-around-eat-out-with-your-friends life and set in this walk-around-and-eat-at-home life has forced me through a doorway, as Don says.
And I’m grateful.
I’m not getting all crazy and diet-y. That doesn’t work for my soul. It’s not healthy.
I just want to be healthy.
I love to cook and I’m pretty good at it. I just have, in the last few years, untrained myself. I have created an eat-out habit, and that’s not super healthy. And by golly, Edinburgh is gonna break it.
The cool thing? I can only buy what I can carry [I am such a city girl]. So I stop by my Tesco Metro about once every other day. Fresh fruits and veggies. Less processed stuff. And my budget is squeezed tight, so I’m careful not to buy ridiculous things.
We had some foibles the first few days, but I’m in the swing now.
Today’s masterpiece? Marisa‘s chicken and gnocchi.
For a learning-to-cook-again girl like me, this was perfect. I grabbed a roasted chicken, a head of broccoli, potato gnocchi, Parmesan cheese, and low fat tomato sauce [I just read that as “tom-AH-to”- the Scottish girl that lives in my head is back].
Shred the chicken. Cook the gnocchi. Steam the broccoli. Combine everything and eat.
It’s a good start. It’s not life changing. I’m not a cooking caterpillar that will soon become a butterfly.
I’m just a real girl who has real issues, even after she has written a book about loving yourself and living a well-rounded healthy life. [Sheesh.] But just like Bianca, and maybe just like you, the issue of eating right and choosing exercise follows me from meal to meal and city to city and country to country and there are wins and there are losses.
But here in Edinburgh, things are a changin’.
I’m grateful for this inciting incident. More grateful than I can say.
Help! Got any food blogs that you love to read? Or any recipes on your own blog that you want to share? Link on, linkers. I’d love to read!
They’ll give a different answer. [fatigued shoulders, party of 2.]
It breaks my little heart when people on twitter openly discuss my lack of blogging [in a loving and friendly way]. And all I have to say to that is, trust me. I miss blogging far more than you miss me. Because you know what I do instead of blogging?
Do you know why I sleep?
Because instead of my old sleeping time (12a-7a), now I’m in bed at 9p. Which used to be the blogging hours. [Must like the witching hour, just less demonic.]
We are down to 6 more boot camps. Meaning in a short week and a half, the AnnieBlogs you have grown to love will be back in action.
In other news.
There is no other news.
We like our boot camp instructor [Kristen is her given name]. I mean, we like her as much as you can like someone who giggles while torturing and worries when our hairs aren’t soaked with sweat.
But you know me. If there is one category in which I over-achieve, it is sweating. So that’s never a concern for me.
Also. I didn’t go to class on Monday. I don’t want to lie to you and say I’ve had perfect attendance, because I haven’t. But it was due to a complete lack of sleep and a good friend being in labor all night long and the fact that we had one of those weekends where I laughed for hours and then when my alarm clock went off at 4:30am I immediately started crying, I said to my roomie, “I can’t do it.”
She said, “uh, ok. Don’t.”
So I didn’t.[She handles my drama well.]
On the upside, I’m definitely better at push-ups than I used to be. [Read: I can do ten and not feel like my soul is being lowered to the pits of despair every time.]
So, in lieu of having anything actual to say, I’ll just say that I hopped on here to make sure you knew I was alive and I fully regret what boot camp has done to my blog life. You deserve better, my friends. Much better.
Lyndsay is doing some HILARIOUS recaps of our boot camp days. That’ll be fun for you to read. Imagine me, in every story, rolling my eyes, possibly wanting to cry, and being the slowest one in the group and you’ll have a pretty good idea of how it has been going.
The last shall be first?
I kinda dropped off the blogosphere on accident this week. Because, and I can’t believe I’m about to say this, I’ve been waking up at 4:30am for Boot Camp.
So to make a long story short, the ladies at Style Blueprint had a Boot Camp deal. I crazily encouraged my friends to sign up with me. Because torture is better when you can watch your friends be tortured too. And SEVEN OF THEM SIGNED UP.[Let’s stop right here. It’s good to be influential and all, but seriously. Why would you ever agree to join me from 5:15-6:15am four days a week… exercising… outside?]
So every night this week, I’ve been in bed by 9pm- because 4:30am comes early, my bloggites. Really early on these ole bones.
I don’t love exercise and that is actually a really nice way to say how I feel about such things as Boot Camps, where people yell at you to “PICK UP YOUR KNEES!” and say, “SLEEPING THROUGH YOUR ALARM IS NOT AN OPTION!”[To which I always want to say, “Uh, I’m paying to be here. I can sleep in every single day and it doesn’t matter. In fact, I could go to my car and sleep on the roof right now. You are not the boss of me except you kinda are.” ] [Can you tell I have a REALLY great attitude right now about the whole thing? Cause I
We start out with a mile run. Which for half-marathoners like me, is no trouble at all. Except it is. I’m the slowest. Of course. What’s new.
Then we do things like lunges, push-ups until I think I’m gonna puke [seriously], butterflies, chest presses, and all sorts of misery.
And on Tuesday, it was 39*F at 5:15am after it poured rain all day Monday.
I am a total whiner.
Not a winner. A whiner.
And if you think this post has been bad, try riding in the car with me at 4:50am.
. . . . . . . . .
I had one final boogie over at (in)courage last week and blast it all, I forgot to tell you. So here’s the link to Happy Trails To You…. [that cowgirl thing just won’t quit.]
My pal Nester is hosting a MAJ giveaway day, so go win you sum-thin.
. . . . . . . . . .
Also, I promise I’m not totally miserable to be around at Boot Camp. I mean, sometimes I even make jokes. Sure, the instructor rolls her eyes and says, “Now do 20 more!”, but I make myself laugh.
And if I hate it this much, then WHY AM I DOING IT?
Because when my mind is screaming angry slurs at my body and my soul is longing for a break from the lies, sometimes the only thing louder than self-hate is the sound of my shoes hitting the pavement and sweat dripping down my forehead as the sun rises in the sky.
The Half-Marathon was on Sunday.
We had to be in Seaside on Saturday to pick up our packets- you know, the packets that say “now that you have this number in your hands, you actually have to show up for the race.”
I didn’t really want that number exactly. But I sorta did. I’m glad I got it now, but I seriously considered leaving my number orphaned at the Seaside Elementary School for some other sorry sap to pick up and run with.[Literally.]
Someone [it was Marisa but don’t say I blamed her] got the hair-brained idea that we should rent bikes and ride over to Seaside to get said packets. I remember being concerned. I remember thinking a bike ride 20 hours before my first half-marathon was not the best for my muscles.
Then this happened and we were off before my calves could protest.
And I was all, “oh well it’ll be fine.”
Do you know how long it was from our house to Seaside?
SEVEN POINT TWO MILES.
7.2 miles. One way.
14.4 miles there and back.
That means my friends forced me to BIKE A HALF-MARATHON THE DAY BEFORE I RAN/WALKED A HALF-MARATHON.
I was slow on the bike, too. I mean, this was my view for most of the ride.
See that speed bump coming up ahead?
And it caused a major jarring of my basket of goods and a major jarring of my, um, organs. About 7 minutes after that jarring, I hit a bush with the bike.
[I should have taken the hint and stopped riding right there. But I didn’t.]
And as much as I tried to enjoy it, it was miserable. I mentally complained the entire time, thinking, “You barely trained for the foot race, you certainly didn’t train for a bike race!”
Especially when we were headed back and the wind was blowing about 30 mph in our faces and we were biking uphill and my entire self was sore to the tenth degree, oh boy was I complaining then.
I was complaining in every language I know. Southern redneck and Scottish.
Bless my heart.
So accidentally, I completed a marathon last weekend.
And that is one thing you will never hear me say again.
. . . . .
A little biz… are you having trouble leaving a comment? If so, email me through the contact form (at the top of this page snuggled between “Speaking” and “Blogroll”). A dozen or so of you have already contacted me, but I’m guessing there are more of you. My blog-boss Lauren and I are trying to fix the situation. So if you try today and it doesn’t work, please say so.
And for future reference- if AnnieBlogs is ever giving you trouble, just let me know and I’ll whip her back into shape. I’m the boss of her.
Let’s start with this: I’m sore. In every place imaginable.
The good news? I finished the Seaside Half Marathon. I actually moved 13.1 miles and exercised for 3 hours and 25 minutes.
Here are my stats:
The worst miles:
The best miles:
Here’s me at the halfway turn. I know. Yikesies. [My desire to give you a glimpse of the experience is apparently greater than my desire to have any sense of pride. Sorry.]
And here I am at the finish line!
I know I know. 3 hours and 25 minutes is tortoise speed. But I totally enjoyed the experience which made it worth it to be a bit tardy to the finish line.
I also totally enjoyed my HALF MARATHON! playlist. Like whoa. Majorly. And so here it is. Please forgive the 2-3 songs with [EXPLICIT] lyrics. I was given a few songs as gifts and they have some yucky language. Don’t buy those.
These are all Top 40/Pop/Rap kind of songs. I needed strong beats to keep my legs movin’. I got to listen to my HALF MARATHON! playlist, uh, twice. [I’m slow, remember?] [Also- you can click on the images to see the lists bigger.]
And, as previously mentioned, I had a LAST MILE! playlist. It was really great to get to start it. Like, “Whoa, here it is. Time for the LAST MILE! playlist. That’s weird. And cool.” [My thoughts were obviously really deep at this point of the race.]
Overall, I give the experience two thumbs up. I walked a lot, I danced a little to my HALF MARATHON! playlist, and every muscle in my right leg and all but one muscle in my left leg are sore x 100.
But it was TOTALLY worth it.
And listen, if you’ve ever considered participating in a race like this, DO IT.
Trust me, if I can do this, so can you. And, you’ll have a faster time than me.
It’s just true.
I’m not a runner.
You know this.
I am slow. It makes me sad and frustrated. I’ve always been slow, even on my best soccer day. I’m not in tip-top shape. I haven’t enjoyed training. I don’t love to exercise.[Amendment. Exercises I do love: playing soccer, Zumba classes, and water aerobics.]
Today is a celebration. The Seaside Half Marathon, for me, is a celebration.
I am celebrating a working body and a willing heart. I am celebrating feet that can move. I am celebrating the fact that I am single and I can pop down to the beach for the weekend with five of my girlfriends. I am celebrating warm weather and beach smells. I am celebrating a flexible job and a generous boss. I am celebrating health and sunshine and friendship and three hours alone on a flat race course.
For 13.1 hard miles, I will celebrate life.
It won’t be easy. It won’t be short. My friends will finish in around 2 hrs and 15 minutes. I will not. In fact, the race is from 7a-10a and then the roads open again. So it looks like I’ll be finishing with some grandmas and a bunch of fancy SUVs.
But even in the worst moments, I want to celebrate. Today I consider myself very lucky to get to be a part of this race. I’m not saying I’ll ever move for 13.1 miles on my feet ever again [I probably won’t and don’t let me], but for today, it’s gonna be great.
Keep up with me on twitter (@annieblogs) and this is where I will announce my survival/victory/injuries/puking.
I hope you have a great Sunday too. 🙂
What are you celebrating today?
I used to hate going to the gym. I mean, I would pay for a membership and go every now and again, but I didn’t enjoy it.
One of the best parts of the Get Fit Challenge is that I grew to enjoy the gym. [Ok, “enjoy” is a strong word. Maybe I should say that I grew to appreciate the gym.]
I used to only go to piloga classes (a combo of pilates and yoga) and water aerobics. But now I’m also digging Zumba, the elliptical, the treadmill, and the weight machines.
And then sometimes [and here, 100 words later, is where this post actually begins], I try new classes. For example, I have tried Weight Training classes a few times. And I don’t love them. Nor do I particularly like them.
Last Thursday, I went to a Zumba class and then thought it might be fun [first mistake] to stick around for the Weight Training class, which involved such things at 10 lb weights, a medicine ball, a weight bar, a bench, a mat. Lots and lots of gear.
The teacher was mean. The class was packed tight. I was tired and in a bad mood.
So I walked out. Before the class ended, I quit. Packed up. Walked out.
I was discouraged. I was mad. I was tired and tired of it. I felt a lot of things.
But on Friday morning, I went back. I went back to the gym.
I had a good realization sometime Friday morning. It is absolutely okay if I don’t like the Weight Training classes. I’m not trying to enter a body building contest. I’m just trying to eat healthy and exercise. That’s it.
So if I dislike some of the classes that the gym offers, I DON’T HAVE TO GO.
But I do have to go back to the gym. I know that feeling of Thursday- the feeling that I failed at the gym. And a lot of times that meant I would avoid the gym for days weeks ever.
That’s the old me. Not Annie 2010.
I won’t let one bad workout day define my entire workout life.
No sir. I will not.
So on Friday, I went back to the gym.
Here’s the thing. The Get Fit Challenge officially ended 2 weeks ago, but I wasn’t allowed to talk about it. I know. No greater challenge exists for me than keeping good fun-time secrets.
So in order to not break any rules and get disqualified, I blocked it from my bloggy-mind. Then all the sudden you guys reminded me [over and over again, you sweet caring bloggites] that I hadn’t told you how it ended.
And I lost 19 pounds.
I can’t even begin to unpack for you all the beautiful things that happened on the inside during this 15 week period. I think, over the next few months, I will be better able to talk about this whole thing.
For now I can tell you this- I absolutely loved being on television [no one is shocked] and I hope that part of my life gets to continue in some ways. On the other hand, I did not love having people approach me in the grocery store/restaurants to talk about the Challenge, though that was massively motivating.
Here’s the pressure I feel right now, and I’m just going to be dead honest with you. I feel this pressure to write something REALLY profound and life-changing that will make you decide to change how you live- some sort of inspirational speech that makes you cry and motivates you to step into that scary thing that seems too big to handle.
And I can’t do that.
Just like only you can prevent forest fires [that’s true], only you can decide when you are tired of living in whatever swamp your heart and life are in. I can’t tell you more about my swamp exit and expect that to make you want to leave yours.
So I’m not going to try.
But here, I just want to thank you.
Thanks oh thanks for all your kind words, emails, and support through this process. When I first wrote about my weight, it was torturous. Now it is normal. What a sweet transition. And that is much accredited to you, my faithful friends. I will never forget that day- when so many of you commented and emailed and squeezed life and hope into my heart. And you have stayed with me through these 19 pounds and however many more are to come.
Your prayers were my strength. Your words were sometimes my only reason to keep going. Your kindness and acceptance were my path to freedom.
My prayer today, as I thought about you and I thought about this Challenge, is that you would see God and His escape plan for you in your swamp (if you need one). And I pray that He would bless you 100 fold for your investment in me. And I also have been praying [and will you join me?] that God was and will be greatly glorified through this.
Love y’all. Like for realz.[Thanks also for suffering through this lengthy blog post- I left you alone all Memorial Day weekend, so I figure I can go over my personal limit by a few sentences.] 🙂
I have two friends who call me “Fancy” and I don’t know if it is more an homage to my love for Reba or because I am, in fact, very fancy. But either way, it is deeply endearing.[I tell you the weirdest things. I can’t help it. Sorry.]
There are three seriously awesome things about today. And I’m gonna tell you about all of them right now.
My baby sister graduates from Auburn University today. I literally cannot believe it. When I left for college, she was in 4th grade. It seems that I blinked and she’s now graduating herself. I could not be more proud and impressed with her ability to be a student and an adult. She’s awesome.
The best part? She’s leaving Auburn. And going to grad school at UNIVERSITY OF GEORGIA. You know that old story of the prodigal son in the Bible? Yeah, we’re living it.[Kidding, Sally. Don’t call me all mad and stuff. Ok? Ok.] [Oh, and this isn’t your graduation gift. I actually have something for you. I promise.]
2. THE GET FIT CHALLENGE
Ends today. Phew. Not that I’m tired of being healthy- I actually seriously like that part. But I will not miss weighing on television. I won’t miss weighing at all. But specifically weighing on TV.
I just wrote my final post at the Annie Gets Fit blog. Enjoy.
After our final weigh in this afternoon, I will be getting a manicure and a pedicure. Sure, that’s too much information, but we’ve already gone over that I tell you weird things. But I figure mani/pedi is a better use of my time and money than a trip to Golden Corral. [Am I right or am I right?]
3. SETH GODIN
I find out today whether or not I will be spending next week in New York City. [Here’s a quick reminder of why I would be in NYC with Seth Godin.] I have no inclination one way or the other. If I make it, I will be THU-RILLED and will begin to giggle immediately. If I don’t make it, I’ll be okay because my bestie Betsy will be in town next week and so I will get to see her.
So that makes for a seriously rad Friday. Hope your Friday is equally cool.
I’ll let y’all know when I know about Seth Godin. And I’ll let you know if I won the Get Fit Challenge on May 25th. [Sorry, gotta follow the rules.] And I’ll let you know if Sally leaves me an anger-filled voicemail on her graduation day.
PS- I made a video for SheSeeks yesterday about the Nashville floods and Compassion Intl and my shirt is all catawampus. So that’s cool [sarcasm].