So hubbie had his gall bladder surgery a couple of weeks ago and it went well and he’s healing nicley, but it really put a monkey wrench in my running.  Since the surgery was a few days after my half-marathon, I needed a few days to rest anyway.  But what I didn’t realize was that he would not be able to lift anything over 15 pounds while recovering, which meant he couldn’t lift Little Lion Man (who weighs close to 20 lbs).

What I did realize very quickly was how much Allan helps with the baby and how much I relied on him for my morning runs.  And now because of his post-recovery orders, I couldn’t leave the baby with him.  During that time, I was exhausted.  I guess running really does gives me more energy or maybe it’s because I had to do all the late-night feedings when Allan usually helps me with that.  Thanks goodness my MIL came over to help out with the baby during the day.  That was a welcomed break.

In his post-surgery state (minus the gall bladder that had caused him so much pain for months), Allan was ready to kiss healthy eating good-bye like tofu and eat real food again.  He salivated over steak.  He craved corned beef and cabbage for St. Patrick’s Day.  He fancied some fish and chips.  He wanted Hooters hot wings.  Good Lord.  A fattening feast was all my cholesterol needed!  Of course, I obliged his requests while remembering portion control, but because of his fattening foods fiesta, I didn’t weigh myself for two weeks for fear that I gained weight.

I guess my thighs thanked my willpower.  I lost another pound.  Grand total weight loss = 26 pounds

Last Thursday, I returned back to my doctor’s office for more blood work.  Hopefully, my cholesterol has dropped, no thanks to Allan’s bad food binge.  I’ll find out the results this Thursday, but anticipating some improvement, I celebrated my new good blood with a beer that night and every night since last Thursday.

Every time I drop some more weight, I try on an old piece of clothing from my pre-pregnancy days.  Last Friday, I tried on an old pair of cami cargo shorts and they fit!  I was so excited!  But when I sat in my newly reacquired old shorts, I ripped a hole in them which gave my cami shorts an authentic look as though they truly had been through the war.  They must have been older than I thought, because the rip was not on the seam, but right down the middle of my bodacious badunkadunk cheek. Lovely.   Apparently, those old cami shorts weren’t ready for this jelly ‘cause my body is bootylicious . Looks like you literally do win some and you lose some.  Oh well.  It’s a good excuse for me to buy a new pair of shorts.

Speaking of shorts, I stared sporting some running shorts since it’s been so hot and sticky lately. It ain’t the hottest look given the state of my flabby post-partum legs, but it’s much cooler than my running pants. I made the mistake of asking my husband how I looked in my shorts and he sheepishly said, “O.k.”

“But…,” I replied.

But I wouldn’t go anywhere in them.”

“Um…that’s kind of hard seeing how I’m running in them.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go the supermarket in them.”

“Thanks for your honesty hun. I’ll be sure to avoid running to Publix in them.”

Speaking of not such great looks…I need to buy some decent fitting panties because my usual comfy granny panties are getting too baggy since I’ve lost weight. When I run in these baggy granny panties, they bunch up in my butt which makes me have to pick my panties out of my ass every half mile. So if you ever wondered, yes, I really do have my panties all in a twist. And just for the record, I only wear granny panties when I run and to bed. Yeah, I am thatsexy. I’m too sexy for my granny panties.

On the subject of running…for the first week of Allan’s post surgery, I didn’t run.  By the second week post-surgery, I finally managed to sneak in a run last Friday with my friend, Faith.

3.1 miles

Time 38:35

Ave Pace 12:27

Max Pace 8:34

Then, Tiffany and I ran 6 miles on Saturday.

6 miles

Time 1:17:48

Ave Pace 12:58

Max Pace 8:44

I slept in on Sunday and then a monsoon rolled in on Monday and put a damper on running that day, but I did some boot camp stuff with my BFF, Sharon Mann, who tore me a new one and I don’t mean an old pair of shorts either. I may need surgery to repair it.

This morning (Tuesday) I ran 3 miles in some super thick fog and I was grateful that no giant gingerbread men came after me, but I can’t say the same about the scary storm drain clowns.  It was too dark and foggy to notice.

3.1 miles

Time 33:06

Ave Pace 10:41

Max Pace 8:43

However, I did notice some really bad driving this morning.  Why do drivers pull past the white line in the road so that their car is sticking way beyond the stop sign, past the thick white line in the road and blocking the crosswalk which forces me to stop in my tracks and wait for them to pass?  Shouldn’t they let me the (speedy pedestrian) pass?  That just annoys me.  Do they think that thick white line in the road is there for decoration to make the road look prettier?  I think I may shine my LED flashlight at those drivers next time and spray their windshield with pepper spray so they will be forced to let me pass because their vision will be obstructed much like the crosswalk.  I’m just saying.  Drivers should stop for pedestrians/runners. 

This has been another Run DMT public service announcement.

Proudly submitted at The Un Mom’s Random Tuesday Thoughts, because when I blog about my runs, it’s usually pretty random.