I Love the Smell of Torture in the Morning

Running. Three miles. A 5k's worth. Five miles. Each week it increases. I've yet to find a route I like. The hills around here- they break me. You would think I would be a finely tuned running machine by now but I'm more like a cranky, old dog who has lost her bite.

Cross-training three times a week. It's back to Body Pump at the gym since Shredding has effed up my knees something fierce. Oh wait, that's right. I can't seem to drag my ass to an actual Body Pump class to save my life. I think of those disc weights and triceps curls and I turn into a whiny toddler who is two hours past her nap and in a downward spiral of a lost sugar high.

Just to punish myself more I have decided to add in a Detox. No sugar, no carbs, no dairy, very little if any meat. I'm blaming it on the few days I spent in LA eating soy-based products and little sugar. The "Hot Preview" (read fried calamari, french fries, wings, ribs and more!) which should have been called the "Hot Mess" that I devoured along with copious amount of wine-swilling, absinthe chugging chased with a bucket of vodka probably didn't help. My body, my liver, they wants to be cleansed. "Heal me!" My liver cries, casting itself about for some healing waters and a laying of hands.

I made it through day one of the detox. All steel-willed loaded with fierce and yes, a bit of pious determination. I gulped down water with lemon, detoxifying (read: crap your weight, on the hour, every hour) teas and then more water. I crammed my body full of assorted greens and other veggies throughout the day stopping only to nibble on a nut or two when I needed it. It felt good.

This morning? I burned my spinach-tomato-red pepper-onion-broccoli breakfast extravaganza after The Comedian puked on the floor. Cheerios littered the kitchen having little Cheerio babies. TD painted a masterpiece on the table with yogurt while I scraped the frying pan. I poured my morning coffee (my only indulgence in the detox) only to have it slosh on my legs soaking my gym shorts and scalding my feet. The kids loved the "Mommy is burning!" dance. I do aim to please.