The scale depressed the hell out of me today. I'd like to think it was last night's sodium sushi haze clinging to the hips, but I get the feeling it was four nights of cheesecake on the cruise. And not working out in two weeks.
After a delightful fat-free vanilla mixed berry compote (which does rival many of the ship's desserts) I laced up my shoes and went for a run. What does it mean when your body itches when you run? I'd love to know the meaning behind that, for I was itching and burning and by the end of the run I had scratched myself red and raw. The cars driving by might have guessed I was attacked my bees, but I know it was the thick, sticky sweat trickling out of my pores. Halfway through the 3-mile run I felt the right side of my bladder start to fail. I wasn't quite wetting my pants, but close. Things have slipped. Like my eating habits. And my training. And my uterus. I will get back on the horse tomorrow, and hope for a better run.
Norm Update - Norm has found the key to his comfort. No eating. He ate a half of a banana yesterday, and the pain sent him through the roof. Instead, he takes long sips on nutritional drinks. That keeps up his energy without ravaging his pancreas. It's not quite what he had in mind this weekend (Key West with my mom and Tim and Cindy) but he's learning what works and doesn't work to heal his damaged pancreas.
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