When I saw my transplant doctor in June, he asked me if I was running every day. I sheepishly told him, no, every other day. I projected my disappointment onto him: what, I gave this woman a transplant and she's not running every day. What a waste of baby boy blood.
Chastened, I started running every day, or at least 6 times a week. I usually do 2 miles, but throw in a 3 or 4 miler now and then. In theory, I'm "training" for the CVS Providence Downtown 5k in September. I ran this race for the first time in 2006, 6 months after I was first diagnosed with leukemia. I remember tearing up at the starting line. Last September, I didn't run the race because I was trapped in a bizarre science experiment. Now that I've escaped, I'm determined to run this September, just after I celebrate my first birthday.
A curious thing has been happening. For the first time since sixth grade, I'm actually putting on weight. I am one of those lucky people who has been able to ignore what I eat and maintain my weight. You can chalk it up to my high metabolism, or to my fear of being fat. Either way, I've never given much thought to calories or portions or carbs or trans fats.
It has come to my attention however, that I've gained almost 10 pounds and I can't figure out why or how. On one hand, this is a good thing. In Leukemia Land, it's better to be a bit hefty. Also, if I'm gaining weight, I take it as a sign of health, not illness. The problem is, my clothes are starting to feel and look tight, and I appear to be 4-5 months pregnant when not sucking in my gut. Help! Could it be muscle weight? I've upped my hand weights to 5 pounders in the last month. Is it the dreaded menopausal middle creeping in? I'm determined to battle this bulge with every fiber of my being. I do not want to be a pear. I hate pears. Someday I'll tell you why.
So I'm conflicted. Lose 5 pounds or hang on to them for good luck? Think I'll eat breakfast. Not too much.