Discipline.

I'm always surprised when my body does what it's supposed to do.

The result of the first week of five small meals (and very little sugar):

I was annoyed at how much I had to think about eating. And I was sick of eating.

The result of the second week of five small meals (and very little sugar):

I am still annoyed about it and sick of eating. And I lost 4 poounds.

Small meal #5 for today is this quinoa flat bread recipe.

The kids and I made cookies last night, and I had a bite of one to see how I liked the new recipe. Normal me would have needed eight to decide if it was a good recipe or not, or maybe twelve. A friend called that discipline. Discipline sounds much better than will-power. Or self-deprivation. Or hell. So I'm going to try to look at it as discipline. Maybe I should consider healthy eating the fifth discipline in triathlon. The fourth being pissing off your competition, of course, or so I was told yesterday.

Nearly a month into three strength workouts a week it occurred to me that I can't remember the last time I begged someone, anyone, Henry, my sister, a chiropractor I met at a party, some guy at the mall, to push on my piriformus for just a minute to stop the aching in my hips and glutes, please. I haven't taken advil to sleep through the ache, something I've been doing since the build for Vegas 2010, in at least two weeks. More on the strength training coming soon. In short: I am swim-bike-running a tiny bit less to fit it in. But it's nice to not constantly be asking strangers to touch my butt.

Since eating frequently and healthfully is a pain in the ass, really I've just traded one pain in the ass for another as a result of my new year's resolutions.

A post without photos seems dumb, but I'm not really into photos of food or my butt, so I'm adding a couple photos of important things, like boots and hair. This little rat keeps trying to sneak out of the house to school in my new boots. The clomp clomp clomp down the front steps is a dead giveaway though.

Somebody curled my hair into Barbie hair. Now I kind of want a perm. Is there even such thing anymore? Also, I look like Jim Carrey with big hair, but that's not really news.