Counting My Blessings

Many of my friends on Facebook have been posting something they're thankful for every day of this month. I was too slack to do that, but the truth is I have an incredible amount to be thankful for this year, so I would derelict if I did not take a moment to count my blessings.

This year, I am deeply thankful for:

• A strong, able body, which I have for the first time in several years.
• My wonderful friends--the older I get, the more I appreciate them, and understand how blessed I am to have truly good friends.
• My family. I may not get to see them often, but special days like today bring back many memories, even when I'm not there to share them with my family.
• My nephew and niece. Okay, I know that falls under family, but they are too adorable not to list separately.
• My dogs, who make me smile everyday and love me unconditionally.
• Long, hot baths, which I've come to be a big fan of since my back surgery.
• Speaking of my surgery, I am thankful for the skilled surgeon and the caring nurses who are responsible for giving me a strong, able body again.
• A comfortable home in a safe neighborhood, with a yard where the dogs can play.
• Warm, sunny fall days.
• Confidence in who I am and what I believe.

There are many, many other things I could list here, but some of them are either deeply personal, or too difficult to put into words, so the above will have to suffice. Let me wrap up by saying, though, that this has been a transformative year for me. I am happy and fulfilled, and that is a lot for which to be thankful.

I did it! (well almost)

I have officially lost 30 pounds! That was my original weight loss goal, but when I first started losing and the weight was coming off pretty easily, I bumped my goal up to 40 pounds, which will put me back at my college weight. So I still have 10 pounds to go. But after a month lull of losing next to nothing I have lost two pounds in the last two weeks, so here's hoping...

In other news, squeezed in a trip to the mountains with some girlfriends this weekend. It was a much needed break, and just the kind I was looking for--relaxing and rejuvenating. We stayed in Linville and explored Grandfather Mountain and the town of Blowing Rock while we there. Lots of fresh air, exercise and gorgeous views--definitely not a bad way to spend a weekend.

I'm not dead, I swear...

...but all my friends probably think I am.

The last month has been a complete blur. The fall tends to be like that for me, because of several special events we always have at work this time of year, but this year has been worse than usual, because of the addition of a one-time event the weekend immediately after Day Out With Thomas. DOWT, our biggest annual event, spans two long weekends (Friday-Sunday), and generally the event days are12-hour days. By the last Sunday, all the staff and volunteers are generally on the verge of collapse, ready to throttle the next kid they hear screaming because it's time to go home, and seriously considering burning the standard issue royal-blue T-shirts and khakis.

This year, there was no rest for the weary, because a fantastic opportunity to host Disney's "A Christmas Carol" train tour came along this spring, and though we knew we'd all be exhausted, we also knew Disney would bring priceless publicity and thousands of visitors to the museum who may have never been there before--and, quite possibly, never even heard of the N.C. Transportation Museum.

So we said yes, and yesterday and the day before, by my best estimates, probably at least 12,000 people came out to experience Scrooge, Tiny Tim and company brought to life in 3-D with motion capture technology. I had the chance to tour the train early Friday morning and see the preview in the inflatable (yep, I said inflatable) theater that was set up within a 100 feet of my office. I have to admit, it was pretty cool. And seeing that many people enjoying all the other really cool stuff we have at the museum every day wasn't so bad either. Even if I was completely ready to go home by 5 p.m. yesterday, with two hours left to go before that would be a reality.

My personal life has probably suffered a bit in the past weeks, since I've been pretty out of touch with nearly everyone, and at one point I thought I might have forgotten what my boyfriend looked like. But I am through the worst of it, at least until our next special event at the end of the month, and I unleashed the cleaning demon within today, so my house is once again presentable enough to have company over. Well, actually, I didn't get to the bathrooms yet (hopefully tomorrow), so if you do come over, you might want to, umm, just hold it for a bit....

On all I've gained and lost

I'm stealing this title from Ruby (of the show "Ruby" on the Style network) because it seems so appropriate for my life this year.

Most of you know I am coming off a couple of tough years because of my back problems. Last March I had surgery, which finally gave me some relief, so 2008 was much better, but I consider it kind of a rebuilding year. I am really not sure how to describe how incredible 2009 has been so far.

It's not that everything has gone my way, not by any stretch of the imagination. I've dealt with work stresses, financial stresses, the usual. But it's been an incredible year because, well, I feel like me again. And I kind of like me.

Let me back up, to before the surgery. If you're reading this, I hope for your sake that you have never had to deal with chronic pain. I have always thought of myself as tough, a fighter, all that jazz. But there is a huge difference between toughing out pain for a few hours, days, even weeks, and living in pain.

Living in pain changes you. You don't want it to--you fight against it. You try to keep going out with your friends, to keep being a happy and bubbly person. You win a few battles sometimes, maybe when you are having a good day, but until you eliminate the pain itself, you are always losing the war.

Pain makes you tired, unhappy. You live your life in survival mode, trying to get through each day, or even just the next hour until you can take another pain pill. Your friends might call you, but you rarely call them--what would you have to talk about, since all you do every day is somehow get through work, then come home and stretch out on the couch with a heating pad?

And slowly but surely, "you" slips away so far that you're not sure you'll ever find her again.

I am one of the lucky ones, because for me, there was a path out of the pain. But when the pain goes away, "you" does not automatically come back. That's why I call last year a rebuilding year. For the first several month after the surgery, there was a physical rebuilding process. The pyschological took much longer.

It's odd to look back and realize that, as slowly and surely as I slipped away, just as surely I found my way back, slipped back into my former self. By the end of the year, in most ways, I was back to me.

With one exception. One of my goals after the surgery was to get back to being active and lose the weight I had gained through my inactivity. Well, I was walking a couple times a week, but wasn't doing much more than that, and I definitely hadn't made any changes to my diet. That change finally came this February.

I can't really tell you why I started losing weight when I did. It was the day after my team won the Super Bowl in an unbelievable game, and just a couple weeks after we inaugurated our first black president. I guess I was feeling inspired and decided that was the day I would start. At first I was just watching my calories and being a little more active. Then in April we moved, to a neighborhood a little better suited to walking and running. Since my surgeon gave me the okay to return to running when I saw him in March, I thought it was good timing.

I got a slow start, but by July I was running 2-3 times a week, working on a "Couch to 5K" training program a friend gave me. And today, I am 27 pounds lighter and ran my first 5K this morning.

This is the me I remember. The me who sets a goal and works until I reach it, who does things in the community, who spends time with friends, who gets great joy out of little things, who is passionate and motivated, who takes care of myself and tries to take care of others.

I am me again. Maybe even a little better version of me.

I'm Lazy

Yeah, yeah, I haven't posted in forever. Really it's only partially because I'm lazy and partially because I have been keeping pretty busy. I am running 2-3 times a week to train for a 5K (which I will be running next Saturday), walking a couple times a week, doing some volunteering, and I snuck a few days in to go to Hilton Head with some girlfriends at the end of July.

On the weight loss front, I'm still losing, but it has slowed down a lot. Now down 27 pounds, which leaves me 13 to go. I can wear most of my old clothes again, I have a lot more energy and I feel great overall.

I am really going to have to resist temptation in the next few months, though, since Kevin and I are talking about trying to sell some baked good gift baskets for the holidays, which means lots of sweets around the house. But, if you are looking for some goodies and aren't great in the kitchen, contact us!

I promise I will try to post more frequently, but it will be tough for a bit--September through early November are packed, unfortunately mainly with work events. But I will at least post an update after I finish the 5K!

Halfway There (Again)

I changed my weight loss goal from 30 pounds to 40, which would put me back at my college weight. And I finally, finally, finally hit the 20-pound mark today, which seemed to take forever. I hit 18 pounds and then I slowed to a crawl. I have increased my exercise a good bit, so I think my fat loss was having a hard time keeping up with my muscle gain, but it's nice to finally see the numbers on the scale moving again. It's easy to tell yourself, I'm getting smaller, my clothes are fitting better--but it's much easier to believe when the scale backs up your story.

Follow the Bouncing Ball

I have had inspirations for blog posts throughout the day today.

First, as I listened to snippets of the nonsense Dick Cheney spewed to his cult followers this morning, I thought I'd write something wondering why, after eight years of trying to ruin America, he won't just shut the hell up. But then I decided I didn't want to give the Big Dick any more air time (or in this case blog time).

So then, as I listened to a story on how South Carolina Governor Mark Sanford is going to sue the state legislature for trying to make him take the federal stimulus money (instead of, ya know, letting South Carolina schools get even farther down the list of America's worst because you have to cut their budgets even more), I thought about writing something about how crazy South Carolina politics are, and how it makes me glad I don't live there anymore.

But then I listened to all the mess with the investigation of former North Carolina governor Mike Easley, which reminded me of all the scandals that have happened here since I returned to Charlotte five years ago, and I remember that North Carolina politics are just as crazy.

So I turned back to national politics, and thought about writing about how spineless the Democratic legislators are for taking a "not in my backyard" position over the Guantanamo Bay detainees. I mean, sure, we can get on our high horse and talk about how it's unconstitutional and goes against everything that makes America unique to torture people and hold them against their will without giving them a fair trial, but if you want them to come to my state, hell no, they're too dangerous for U.S. courts and prisons. Never mind the fact that our prisons have held the likes of Charles Manson, Ted Bundy and Timothy McVeigh. And some crazy nut I saw a clip of on The Daily Show talking about taking a guy's brain out and eating it.

And what really gets me is how they talk about turning "dangerous terrorists" loose in the United States--but if none of these guys has ever had a chance to be tried in court to prove whether they are guilty or not, how do we even know they are terrorists? And maybe not just some guys who got rounded up by a country that temporarily let itself be ruled by fear instead of morality and justice, simply on the basis of their ethnicity or religion? The likes of the aforementioned Big Dick would like you to believe a slightly prettied-up version of this: We are in extraordinary times and they require extraordinary measures. Translate extraordinary measures to mean torture, wrongful imprisonment, illegal wiretaps, whatever it takes. Sound familiar? We were in pretty extraordinary times during World War II, and a lot of innocent Japanese-Americans paid the price in internment camps, which most Americans now look back on with shame. Aren't the Republicans the ones who are supposed to cherish individual freedom so much? Or is that only true for non-Muslims?

So I was going to write about the spineless Democrats who caved to politics instead of standing up and saying "we can do better." But the truth, I don't have the stomach for it. How can it be so hard to understand that there is a right way to treat people and a wrong way?

Since I don't want to give Big Dick more publicity, and I can't talk about leaving crazy South Carolina politics because I still have crazy North Carolina politics to deal with, and I don't have the stomach for the spineless Dems, I will blog about the mundane, everyday things of life.

Here goes. I love my dogs. They help me remember what is right with the world. On Monday Alex had his teeth cleaned, for which they put him under anesthetic. When I brought him home, he was all sleepy and pitiful, with a bandage where his IV site had been. After I got him settled onto a nice soft blanket on the living room floor and then convinced Abby that it wasn't really a good time to wrestle with her brother, I laid down on the floor beside him to snuggle. He was too sleepy to snuggle back, but as I leaned in to pet him, I hear a soft "thump, thump, thump" of his tail wagging, ever so slowly. By this time, Abby finally had the idea, and had curled up beside him to take care of her big bro. It's good to be loved.

Happy Mom's Day

I have been meaning to post this picture for about a week now but have been lazy. So I decided Mother's Day was an appropriate day to post it.

Chloe had her babies. Chloe is the mama bird who had built a nest in the corner of our porch, which we discovered when we were moving in. Since I don't know much about birds, I can't tell you what kind of bird she is--small, mostly gray, with a little bit of white on her throat, and very pretty.

Chloe's been part of our routine since we moved here. During the day, she was usually out, I assume hunting for food. If you did see her during the daylight hours, she would usually fly off as soon as she saw you. But after dark, she was always there, taking care of those eggs, and there was nothing you could do to scare her off then.

When we moving in,, there was also a wasp building a nest right near Chloe's. We weren't quite so accepting of the wasp, so to the store for wasp spray we went. But we had to spray with care, for fear of contaminating Chloe's nest. Eventually I was smart enough to grab a piece of cardboard from a moving box and hold it in front of the nest to protect the eggs while we sprayed.

Still, I was worried about whether the spray might have caused any harm. But about two weeks ago, Kevin came home from work with some good news--and bad. Chloe's babies had hatched. But one of them had fallen out of the nest. Surprisingly, it was still alive, but for fear of Chloe abandoning the nest if we picked it up and put it back, there wasn't anything we could do to rescue the poor hatchling.

I am happy to say, however, that her other two babies are alive and well--and apparently have been learning to fly this week! Since Thursday, we have only occasionally spotted them in the nest. I haven't seen them in flight yet, but Kevin did yesterday. I suppose this means we won't be seeing Chloe or her babies much longer.

But I have to admit, it has been a privilege to watch this little miracle of nature unfold. It's funny how the little things add such richness to your life. So thanks, Chloe--and Happy Mother's Day.

Halfway There

I finally hit the 15-pound mark today, which puts me halfway to my goal. If I keep up at this rate, I may be at my goal weight by the end of July, before our girls' trip to Hilton Head. So nobody give me chocolate!

Missing It

I have a confession. A HUGE confession, for those of you who know me well.

I realized something this week. I miss IT. And by IT I mean journalism, specifically working for a newspaper. I inexplicably visited the N.C. Press Association's website yesterday, and saw an opening that caught my eye. I don't know why I was even looking, but then I started considering actually applying, and by the end of the day I had decided I was going to send in my resume. I must have lost my mind.

Again, those of you who know me well, know the love-hate relationship. My first newspaper experience was my senior year of high school. I hated it. For about six weeks, until I started to love it. And then my first semester at Wingate University, I signed on with The Weekly Triangle, mainly for something to do and a way to meet people. By my second semester I had switched majors and was officially in the journalism program. Half of my college memories were formed in the Triangle office. By my senior year, I was Editor in Chief.

After I graduated, I went straight into a job with The Index-Journal, a daily paper in Greenwood, S.C. Things didn't go so well there at the end, thanks to some management changes that resulted in some very biased journalism, but when I started, I was aiming for a Pulitzer. The hours were bad. The pay was bad. The stress was constant. And I loved it. There were some great moments and great stories while I was there. The changes that were made eventually led me to look for something else, and while I interviewed with a couple other papers, I ended up deciding I was a little burnt out and needed a break.

It's been a long break--five years--and after getting a taste of a 9-5, Monday-Friday schedule, I had pretty much decided I was never going back. And then I did that unexplainable thing yesterday, and pointed my browser to the N.C. Press site. I don't think I was in full control of my faculties.

So tonight, I am sitting here pouring over old clips, with memories flooding back, and realizing--I miss it. So much that I feel like going out and doing an interview right now. What exactly it is that I miss is hard to say. It's a mixture of many things that adds up to the magic elixir that is journalism--being in the middle of everything, meeting fascinating and extraordinary people, having the privilege of sharing their story with the world, finding just the right word or turn of phrase to convey exactly the thought or emotion you are looking for, and, yes, even just the ego boost of seeing your name in print.

I miss it.

By the Numbers

Forgive me for stealing a well-used sports column format to relay my moving experience this weekend...

24: Foot-length of the moving truck we used, which was almost two and half times the length we had reserved. Kevin had lots of fun pulling that into a very tight driveway, from a busy road near downtown.

10: Number of pounds I've lost since early February. This isn't directly related to the move, except that apparently all the heavy lifting gave me the extra push I needed to lose the last pound I needed to hit that mark, despite all the fast food I ate (see below). 10 down, 20 to go...

7: Number of bruises I have discovered so far.

6: Number of fast food meals I have had since Saturday, since all the cooking stuff was in transit. I am soooo unpacking the pots, pans, etc. tonight.

3: Additional trips made to the old house after we loaded up the truck--not because stuff wouldn't fit in the cavernous truck, just for stuff we didn't want to take in the truck, like TVs, computers, etc. Two more trips to go--one tonight to meet someone who might buy our old furniture and one tomorrow to take a couple bulk trash items out to the curb (if we took them out this weekend, we'd be fined for having them out more than a day before pickup).

2: Pieces of brand new furniture sitting in the new place, a couch and a loveseat. Anew bed I bought last spring was my first piece of new, never owned by anyone else, furniture that cost more than a hundred bucks. These two are the second and third. And they're great. Next on the list--a washer and dryer, although those probably won't be new.

2: Besides being the number of new pieces of furniture, it's also the number of ecstactic dogs who love all the extra space and have been using the house as their own personal wrestling ring. They are also big fans of the yard. And they have taken it as personal challenge to see how much fur they can rub onto the aforementioned new furniture.

1: Times I would like to have to move again in my life, and that will be into a house I buy. And then I'm staying put and never moving again, because moving is the hardest thing in the world!

Love, affection and a little something extra

Alex is a lover not a fighter. He loves everybody--little dogs, big dogs, little people and big people. He's still trying to win over Kevin's cat Mena, and I think his feelings are a little hurt that Mena seems to be so fond of Abby but not him.

I recently joined the volunteer group Hands On Charlotte, which runs a therapy dog program with a few different local nursing homes. Since Alex has the perfect temperament to be a therapy dog, I took him on his first venture to the nursing home tonight. He had to get adjusted to the different smells and the wheelchairs at first, but he was great with the residents. One lady, who was confined to a bed, leaned way forward just so Alex could reach her to give her a kiss, and she was so excited when he did. Of course he was as happy as the residents and he didn't stop smiling the whole time.

Everything was going great, right until we were almost ready to leave. Then apparently the excitement of it all just caught up with Alex and, yes, my dog stopped in the middle of the hall and took a great big dump. Actually, that was the one time he did stop smiling. According to the coordinator, that's not an uncommon occurrence for "first-timers." I think Alex was embarrassed anyway.

But we got things cleaned up, we were on our way again, and he soon forgot his little accident when he discovered the next person waiting to give him attention and enjoy his shower of kisses. Yep, there's nothing like the love of a dog.

Birthday Ponderings

Last weekend, I helped build a picnic table, as part of a volunteer project at a local charter school. It was a monumental moment for me, not just because I've never built a picnic table before, but because it's something that I couldn't have done last year.

Today is my 30th birthday, which I guess is supposed to be one of those "landmark" birthdays where you're leaving the freedom of your 20s and entering adulthood. In many ways, this is a landmark birthday for me, but not because I am getting "old" and turning into a serious adult.

It is a landmark for me because today, sitting here writing this post, I feel about 30 years younger than I did on this day last year. On this day last year, I sat in the office of my wonderful neurosurgeon, Dr. Aldem Milam, at Orthocarolina, and made a huge decision. I decided to have major back surgery to fuse my L5-S1 vertabra. It's not a decision many 29-year-olds make.

Not quite three weeks later, I was walking into Presbyterian Orthopedic Hospital, so Dr. Milam and his staff could drill through my tailbone to the disc that had been causing me so much pain, scoop out the gelly innards, and replace that with a big bolt that extended between the two vertebra on other side of the disc. A couple more tiny screws in what's known as the facet joint, and they were all done.

A side note--It's worth mentioning that the day I was being converted to the bionic woman, George Clooney was doing a promo for his new movie, Leatherheads, at the train depot in Salisbury, where they had done some of the filming. They also filmed at my workplace, the N.C. Transportation Museum, and had I not been on the operating table, I would have been at the depot, meeting George.

Four weeks after the surgery, I returned to work. A few weeks later, I completed my physical therapy. At my three-month follow-up, I was informed that the joint was completely fused (meaning that "bolt and screw" operation that immobilized the joint had successfully resulted in the bones of the two vertabra "growing together" to form one solid, immobile piece of bone). Since there's no motion in the joint, it can't cause me pain. But I also can't touch my toes without bending my knees just a little. It's a small price to pay.

The road leading to surgery for me was a long one, starting two and half years earlier. It started as a pain in my calf, that was almost like a mild cramp, but wouldn't go away. I tried eating a lot of bananas, thinking maybe my potassium was low, and that was causing the constant cramp. Eventually I learned it was a tear in my disc that allowed the aforementioned gelly innards of the disc to leak out and irritate the nerve that ran past it and down my leg.

Getting a clear diagnosis of a back problem isn't easy, and I went through about two years of trigger point injections, epidural steroid injections, this electrical shock thing to test my nerve function, x-rays, MRIs, and even a procedure called a discogram where they did an injection into the disc to try to replicate the pain and determine if that was indeed the source of my pain. Another side note--when the doctor and staff spotted my tattoo as they were preparing me for this notoriously painful procedure, they joked about all the big tattooed guys that came in for a discogram then cried like babies when they were on the table. Very comforting indeed.

By the time we decided to go forward with surgery, the mild cramp in leg had grown into a constant pain down the back of my entire leg and most of my back, and I was taking 4-6 narcotic painkillers a day. I felt like I was at least twice my age. By nature, I am a happy, positive person. But people in chronic pain are not happy, positive people. I don't think I truly understood how deeply the pain had affected every aspect of my life until I was no longer in pain and I felt my old self returning. There have been a few, "oh, this is me, this is what I used to be like" moments along the way. It's hard to express how unbelievably grateful I am for my friends who stuck with me, even when I wasn't really me, and especially to Kevin, who saw my struggle from the closest vantage point of anyone.

But thanks to the support of those friends and the very talented medical personnel at OrthoCarolina and Presbyterian, today, on my 30th birthday, I feel my own age again. So I am not celebrating getting old. I am celebrating my youth. And to celebrate here are some of the things I can do today that I could not just one year ago:

* Give my dogs a bath.
* Take my dogs for a walk in the park.
* Sleep on my right side.
* Stand at a busy restaurant waiting for a table for more than 10 minutes.
* Stand in the kitchen long enough to cook a nice dinner.
* Go to the Y.
* Go to the mall with my friends and not bail out early.
* Make the long drive home to Pennsylvania.
* Pick up my niece and nephew and play with them (after I've made that long drive home).
* Build a picnic table. :)

Slow and steady wins the race

I have officially lost five pounds! Okay, I'm trying to sound more excited than I actually am, cuz losing weight takes FOREVER. The general rule of thumb is that one to two pounds per week is a healthy rate of weight loss for most people. I am floating almost right at that one pound mark. Figures I'd be at the low end.

Okay, I know I shouldn't be complaining, because five pounds is good. This is just going to take more commitment than any other time I've had to lose weight, for a couple of reasons. One, I have more weight to lose, so I have to stick with a restricted diet longer (of course I'm going to have to be more careful about what I eat even after I lose the weight, but not quite as cautious). The most weight I've ever shed is 15 pounds, and I'm looking at twice that now (well, minus the 5 so now I've only got 25 to go).

Issue two, though is how I'm losing the weight. In the past, I've just started running like a madman, three or four times a week, at least. I'd watch what I ate too, but I wasn't fanatical about tracking my calorie intake or anything, because with the running and just cutting out some sweets and fast food, I could usually take off a few pounds pretty quickly. Plus I liked running (I know, sadistic, but it cleared my head, mellowed me out, yada yada...).

But now, unfortunately, I am forbidden from running. It was basically the one activity my neurosurgeon forbid me from doing. No prohibitions on bungee jumping or roller coasters or anything else one might think could be dangerous to the back, but yeah he sure did say, "Running is probably a bad idea." He said running on a treadmill is okay, but what fun is that? Stay in one place, maybe listen to my iPod, glance around me at the other sweaty people in much better shape than me...it's a thrill a minute, let me tell you.

So, I am doing the Y workout thing. Which is good, because I'm doing strength training, and I'm paying special attention to the machines that work my core muscles to make sure my back stays nice and strong in the future. I'm hoping to catch a yoga or pilates class one of these days, if I can get there in time after work. And I'm even doing the treadmill some. It's just a lot harder to motivate myself.

Anyhoo, it does make me feel good to see steady progress, and I have been doing really well watching my calorie intake. I think the hardest thing about that is when I'm eating with other people. Because for me to stay on top of my calories, I have to be really anal about it--I carry a little journal and calorie guide around with me all the time, because if I just try to keep track of it in my head, I will overeat. So if I'm doing this around someone heavier than me, I worry that they will think the same thing I think when I hear someone thinner than me talking about fat grams or watching carb intake or whatever--"what does she have to worry about anyway?"

Luckily I don't look like I'm as overweight as I am, but I know what my weight used to be, and should be. My BMI is about three points over what is considered healthy. And while I'm not going to make my health decisions based solely on charts, I know that I had reached a point where I needed to make some lifestyle changes and be healthier. My mom and grandma both are overweight, and they didn't start out that way. The pounds crept on gradually, like they have with me, until they reached a point where I think the weight loss just seemed like an insurmountable challenge. I don't want to reach that point, where my weight would affect the activities I could enjoy, the clothes I could wear, and my overall health. And with my back issues, I know it's all the more important to keep my weight down and to keep the muscles that help protect strong.

So at the rate I am going...one month down, five more to go. Wish me luck!

6 and 30

Six: The number of Super Bowl rings now claimed by the Pittsburgh Steelers, the greatest football franchise in the NFL.

Thirty: The number of pounds I am trying to lose as part of the new diet and exercise regime I started the day after the Steelers won the Super Bowl.

Finally losing some weight and getting in shape after three years of back problems was actually my New Year's resolution. But, seeing as My Boys were in the playoffs and playoff games are the perfect excuse for eating and drnking lots of very unhealthy things, my efforts were delayed until after the Big Game.

So the day before the game I went grocery shopping and picked up all kinds of healthy eats. The day of the game I watched the festivities with an adrenalin-pumped crowd at Bailey's in south Charlotte and stuffed myself ful of chips and queso followed by a greasy but delicious plate of fish and chips.

Ah, but sadly those days are over. At least if I don't want to end up weighing in at 200 pounds. Which I don't. So Monday morning, it was time for a new me and new eating/exercise habits. So far I have done really well. I used a calorie calculator to see the number of calories I need to stick to every day to lose two pounds a week (the recommended rate of weight loss) and am now tracking what I eat and if I meet that goal in an Excel spreadsheet (evidence once again of my complete nerdom). I also track when I exercise and what I do.

From last Monday to Saturday, I lost a pound and a half. Sunday I made my first trip to the Y and got oriented on all the strength traning machines. I am really focusing on strengthening my core to protect my back from future injury. Unfortunately, the doc said I shouldn't run anymore, which used to be a favorite exercise, so that's out. I am allowed to run on a treadmill, but that's kind of boring.

So I have been doing really well sticking to the diet and keeping motivated with the exercise. Only issue is that after all my excitement over losing weight last week, I gained it right back this week. That's not really a bad thing, because I know it's muscle mass gain from the exercise. Everytime I start back to exercising regularly after a period of being a slacker, I always gain at least two pounds, and then start losing weight. And my clothes are already fitting better, so I know that's the case. It just sucks to see the numbers go back up.

Well this was a way-longer-than-intended post, but this is the most weight I've ever had to lose, so I'm really going to have to stick with this. If you see me eyeing up ice cream, smack my hand or something.

Today is a good day...

...and tomorrow will be too.

Today I am celebrating the Steelers winning the AFC Championship last night, sending them to the Super Bowl for the third time since I've been old enough to remember (1980 was in my lifetime, but I wasn't even a year old yet). That alone is enough to keep me on Cloud 9 for the next two weeks until the Big Game, and if we win, I probably won't come down again until halfway through next season.

I bleed Black & Gold. I grew up near Pittsburgh, watching the games every Sunday afternoon with my dad, who was transformed from the kindest man you'd ever hope to meet into a raving lunatic who jumped six feet in the air when the boys made a good play, or grumbled at the coach who couldn't hear him for his bad calls. There's not much in this world that could make a member of the Steelers Nation happier than a Super Bowl trip.

But this week, as excited as I am, it somehow seems insignificant. Because tonight is the last night that George W. Bush will go to bed as President of the United States. And tomorrow, Barack Obama will have the opportunity to show the world that this America is still a nation that values liberty, equality and justice for all.

It is difficult for me to put into words how I feel at this moment. I chose to vote for Mr. Obama not because of his race or in spite of it. I voted for him without regard to his race, because I felt he was the best candidate and the man we need at this moment. Still, I am awed that our country has finally reached this point. I have believed for some time that we would eventually elect a black president, and I felt it would be in my lifetime. But I really thought I would be much older when it happened.

Sometimes it seems so natural to me that he will be President, perhaps because he is just so, well, presidential. But sometimes I still find myself in a state of disbelief. Not just because we voted for a black man, but because we voted for hope and reason. When Bush was re-elected four years ago, I lost a lot of faith in American citizens. In fact, I told my friends I was going to bury my head in the sand for the next four years, because I just couldn't take it anymore.

In many ways, I did, at least until Mr. Obama came along. He gave me hope again. Not because I see him as a "messiah" figure as some like to mock, but because he speaks with both reason and compassion, and reminds us of what a nation united for good can accomplish.

As the election neared last November, I began considering the prospects of attending the Inauguration. In the end, I decided not to go, but to stay and watch the events from home with those closest to me. And as I watch news stories of elderly black men and women, who lived through segregation and marched with Dr. King, making the trek to D.C., I am glad I opted to stay home. This is their moment. They have earned it. They should not have to compete with me in the crowd to see Mr. Obama as he becomes President Obama.

But I will most certainly be celebrating with them from afar.