Hi *twitch*. My name's *twitch* Carol.

I have a killer twitch happening in my left eye. It's been twitching for about 2 days now and today it's especially bad. I did some Google-ing and read that it could be due to lack of electrolytes in the body, dehydration, brain tumors that will kill you in hours.......

So, I made myself a Dr. Oetker's pizza (salt) and downed a glass of water. I'm still twitching. Hope I don't die.

I ran about 3.5 this morning. Stupid me got up too late and had two cups of coffee before the run. Took the trail and the sun was just pummeling me. Running out was so-so, but the slight breeze on my face made it not so bad. Coming back was a different story. I actually did a sad, little walk/job combo for the last 10-15 minutes. Blech.

Got me a pedicure today. Drove 35 minutes to get to J's friend's salon. The girl doing the pedi wasn't as bubbly as I'd hoped. She kept trying to give me stuff to shut me up. "There are magazines right next to your chair." "Did I mention there are magazines next to you?" "Would you like to look at the samples of nail colors." "Really, feel free to read a magazine."

So I gave in and perused Canadian House and Home and enjoyed the anti-socialite's services .

Big Apple or Bust!

Just came in from chasing bunnies outside with J. Last year, as J tells the story, something that looked like a rat came running up the garden path. He bent down to see what it was and it was a baby bunny.

After getting over the initial shock of having this tiny, little creature in our hands, we named him Rocky and proceeded to try to see why the heck this little guy made us his new parents. We knew something had to be wrong with him 'cuz it's just not right to have this 8oz (yeah, I weighed him on a postage scale, doesn't every new mom do that?) baby bunny running around chasing us.

I took more pictures of my little circus freak and tried contacting animal shelters to see if they could offer any insight on how to properly nourish and care for him.

J came home one day (almost exactly one year ago) to check on our little bundle of joy and peeked inside the little carrier we had set up for him. When he lifted the little towel Rocky was sleeping under, he just fell over dead. It was at that point J became depressed for days. I think I even saw some mist in his eyes when he reminisced. I'm trying really hard not to laugh right now. It's not funny at all. Rocky was a cute, little thing and this is my memorial to him: (now's a good time to start humming a sad little ditty in your head...)



RIP Rocky


On a separate and completely unrelated note, I'm running the New York Marathon in November and I've never run a marathon before. I figured I should make it big and do NYC. I could do Detroit, but it's too close to home and I want the thousands of people lining the streets to motivate me. I'm needy that way.

My training as of late has been sporadic at best. I did 3 miles yesterday morning and it felt good. No tummy-tum issues afterwards. On Tuesday, however, J ran with me and that was a different story. He hasn't run since 2000 and has since taken up smoking, quit smoking and then started smoking a pipe. He's doing well for someone who hasn't run in a while so I'm proud of him. It's just that he holds me back a bit. I still try to take the time to appreciate that he's out there with me. I think deep down he's trying to be my motivator and doesn't want me to know. Fine by me - it's working.

Plans are to run tomorrow together. I'm really hoping we can do 3 miles together. He pooped out on me when we hit 2.5 a couple days ago, so we'll see.

Done like dinner.

So I'm done. Done hating myself. Done hating my body. Done hating my thoughts. Done with diet plans, 'getting rid of those pesky lovehandles', vowing celibacy against chocolate for 12 weeks. Done with it all.

Why am I done? I've spent over half of my life in a state of disappointment with myself. Isn't that sad? It's heartbreaking to me to even think about it. So much time wasted. I don't even know how to begin...

My first memory of being cognizant of my weight was when I was 10 years old. I managed to wipe out on some icy steps and I put a nice gash in my wrist. In the hospital, I was weighed and the doctor announced that I was 133 lbs. I didn't think much of it at the time, but I recall the doctor making some type of comment about it. That was the only time I ever weighed 133 lbs. Mind you, I've never been huge. I spent the early years of my life taller than the other kids-even though now I'm a whopping 5'4.5"(5'5" on a good day). I was just always pudgy. When I was thirteen, I started getting up in the morning before everyone else so that I could work out with Gilad and the Bodies in Motion crew. That continued for several years and I think I lost a little weight. I remember being in my late teens and already playing the 'my diet will start on Sunday' game. I'm twenty-eight now and I'm done.

If you're done too, here's a great read for ya...