Meet my friend, Lynne...

THE LULU CHRONICLES

Hey, Gang,

Remember when I told you that two other ladies and I had become accountability partners when it comes to getting healthy? Well, you’re in for a treat because I’ve asked both of them to guest blog for me. Today’s is from my friend, Lynne. She’s been a great inspiration and encourager to me. Oh, by the way, Lynne was brave enough to send us her before and after pictures. Enjoy…

BEFORE

AFTER

My name is Lynne.  My bicycle doesn’t have a name.  Actually, the bike in the photo of me was borrowed during a Phoenix vacation last January.  In the 36 weeks since that picture was taken I have learned a lot about myself, my God, and lost 62 pounds.

I’ve wrestled with my weight since I was about 30 years old (complacency and babies).  Food, cooking, entertaining and nurturing – that’s a huge part of who I am.  I have been successful with four “big” diets in the past 35 years, but totally unsuccessful in keeping the weight off.

For three years I was quite ill with digestive issues (6 surgeries in 18 months) and beginning one year ago, I was released by my doctor and spent October thru December staring out the window watching the cardinals eat (and eating), praying, and trying to figure out how to get my life back on track.  As I was packing for three weeks in Arizona I realized that none of my clothes fit and refused to purchase a larger size.  I shed 10 pounds in the three weeks before we left for vacation, which inspired me to have a spa vacation in the sunshine.  First step, can I still ride a bike?  Yes, six miles the first day, then eight, and ten miles every day after that.  How warm is the pool?  Perfect.  One hour of water aerobics every day.  With my husband’s usual support we cooked most of our meals, and I was able to stick to 1200 calories a day with only two days off for incredible meals out.

With the support of my friends, Deb and Adrienne, I continued my program.  Upped the calorie level to 1300 (an inexact science) and worked off 400 calories a day.  Our daily e-mails served as a journal.  My body rewarded me with a pretty consistent two-pound weekly loss.  Now that I am within eight pounds of my goal the losses have slowed down (partially because I’m overconfident and getting a little reckless with my snacks).

Several things are at work here.  I have the support of my friends and family.  I don’t have children to cook for or the necessity of snacks or “illegal” foods in the house.  I am mostly retired and am able to plan my activities and take the necessary time to plan and prepare my meals and exercise.  I have the knowledge and economic means to prepare the proper foods and purchase a pool membership and a rec center membership now that the weather is moving me indoors.  This project has pretty much been a full time job.

The difference this time, though, is my ability to finally turn this weakness over to God… but not totally.  I have been known to pray with my hand on the refrigerator door and still let Satan win.  No guilt, but regret that I have not listened to God’s whispering.  For the first time in my life, I can “fall” or take a planned meal or day off and get right back on my program the next day.  My strength definitely comes from the Lord.

Eight pounds more and my God and I still have a long partnership ahead of us, keeping this weight off, along with all the other stuff that comes my way each day. 

The perfect storm...

Our designer dog, Murphy and LuLu

THE LULU CHRONICLES

Today’s blog is a public service announcement. I feel compelled to warn you about one more hazard of bike riding in the country during the fall of the year. I wrote about my last bike ride this past Tuesday. The wind got so bad I had to call the Hubs to come get me. So, it will serve you to check out which way the wind is blowing before you head out your drive way.  However, this PSA could possibly save you from a trauma from which you may never recover. I will only mention this once and never speak of it again…

Okay, so LuLu and I were tooling down the road a week ago enjoying the glorious sights of fall, when I look ahead and what do I spy? A manure truck in the middle of the road. It’s spraying ‘organic growth hormone’ over a cornfield that had been recently harvested and plowed under. I’m at the point of no return so I pedal on preparing myself as I practice holding my breath. Yep, it was bad on two counts: The smell and what I had to pedal over. It was a messy truck, making a mess if you get my drift.

I round the corner with the stench of organic growth hormone interwoven through every fiber of clothing I was wearing, with an extra bonus of LuLu’s tires slinging the stuff in our wake. But, oh, it gets worse...

It’s a busy morning. No less than five, yes, five, manure trucks materialize on my biking route all busy doing their thing. By the fourth truck I am one with nature. I’m convinced I will have to strip naked out in the yard the minute I get home and burn my clothes in the fire pit.

And, then I look down the road one more time and things start happening in s-l-o-w motion. I see it coming… the perfect storm. The fifth manure truck is barreling towards me. It’s large, looming and on a mission. Then, there’s me on my pink bike pedaling as fast as I can—one hand pinching my nose, the other clutched to the handlebar. And then there is the… wait for it… dead skunk in the middle of the road. It’s the Bermuda Triangle, the Black Hole, and Friday the 13^th all rolled into one perfect nano second of bad luck. Aww, man! Worst ride ever!

So, you’ve been forewarned. Venture out on your bike on a fine autumn morning just after harvest time only if you dare. I’m telling ya, bike riding ain’t for sissies.

Later,

deb

A lovely Autumn Bike Ride...Not!

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THE LULU CHRONICLES

Okay, so I’m riding along on LuLu and it’s a lovely, lovely fall morning. I decide that since it’s so lovely that I’ll go for it—fifteen miles. Once this is decided my brain and legs go on autopilot. My thoughts wander as ideas for the blog start popping up all over the place. Corn is being harvested around me, that should make for a good blog about what we reap we shall sow. I pass a house that, now get this, has a life-size, fully armored knight on a white horse sitting on his front yard. Talk about yard art. That’s good for about two blogs at least. I can get a lot of mileage out of the ‘knight in shining armor’ metaphor don’t you think?

As I’m riding along I begin to notice swirling leaves in the middle of the road and I actually get hit in the face with a couple of leaves. I’m sure I can squeeze a blog out of that—woman sucked up into the vortex of a… yada yada yada. Yep, the first seven and a half miles have been easy-peezy. It’s time to turn around and head home. I make this sweeping U-turn in the middle of the road to get LuLu’s nose pointed in the right direction. That’s when it hits me, literally. I’d been pedaling with the wind all this time. All those lovely thoughts about a lovely ride on an lovely autumn morning suddenly vanished as I found myself in a fight to not get blown off the road.

Do  you know the difference between a breeze and a wind? With a breeze your bangs are gently blown off your forehead as you pedal your bike along. With a wind, your cheeks are violently blown behind your earlobes… and stay there with no hope of ever returning to their natural state. My goodness, folks! Why hadn’t I noticed that I hardly had to pedal on the first leg of the journey? While my thoughts danced where they pleased, I had been heading for big trouble. Now I found myself seven and a half miles from home pedaling for my life… well not literally my life, but you know what I mean.

I flipped my gears, tucked my chin to my chest and pedaled like crazy for four miles. Finally, I just couldn’t do it anymore. I got off and walked LuLu for another mile. I tried getting back on after a bit, but it was no use, my legs were spent and *The Cowgirl wasn’t having it. Apparently, I had failed to memo her about this long ride coming up and she was none too pleased. She wasn’t going back into that saddle. No way. No how. I sent up a flare (translation: I called the Hubs to come get me).

Moral of the story: Marry a good man who’s willing to rescue you on a moment’s notice… and who will not laugh at you as you unpin your cheeks from behind your ear lobes. Now that is a true knight in shining armor.

deb

* my butt

Battle on.

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Author Sarah Young writes in her book, Jesus Calling, “There’s a mighty battle going on for the control of your mind. Heaven and earth intersect in your mind; the tugs of both spheres influence your thinking.”

That quote scares the bajebbies out of me. Know why? Because on any given day I don’t know which is going to win. I like to think of myself as a spiritual person. I believe in God. I believe that Jesus is His Son. I read my Bible. I pray. I go to church regularly. I even know all the verses to Kum bah ya. Yet, there are days the world has a mighty tug on me.

~ There are days I’d much rather sleep in on Sunday mornings than show up at church.

~ I find myself, more times than I want to admit, watching a movie that dishonors God more than it honors Him.

~ Most days the homeless on the street corner are invisible to me.

~ I’m ashamed to confess that card of encouragement I intended to write still sits in my desk drawer.

~ If my thoughts would be projected on a PowerPoint, I’d have some embarrassing moments.

And the list goes on. However, I’m not a total ingrate. All of the above have also had me making the better choice, doing the humane thing, and Kum bah ya-ing with the saints. There are days I’m spot on, but you know what? I’ve notice that those days have one thing in common: I die to self. The battle being waged gets won on my knees.

I wished that realization would stick for all time. Unfortunately, each morning is a fresh battle and Satan has had a good night’s sleep.

The fight is on, my friends. Armor up.

deb

I love Research

THE LULU CHRONICLES

FDR's remains returning to Washington, DC

I just remembered it was Tuesday.  Can you believe that? If you know me personally, it’s not a stretch. So, here’s what I’ve been up to: Yesterday, LuLu and I had a good ride around the block (three miles), and then I came home and did 125 sit-ups on Belle the Ball. Then, I sat down and wrote the rest of the day. Actually I didn’t write, I did research.

This morning, it’s back to the research and in a few minutes I’m going to start a chapter where my main characters learn that President Roosevelt has died. It will be one of those moment of ‘where were you when…’ I’m thinking about having my characters decide to drive the 191 miles to Greenville, SC to witness Roosevelt’s funeral train pass by. Not sure how feasible that will be for them though. Not too many people had cars back then and they definitely didn’t have enough spare change for gas for that distance. It will be interesting to see how the chapter will turn out.

Yesterday, I spent the day watching old newsreels of the funeral train. Over 700 miles between Warm Springs, Georgia, where the president died, and Washington, DC. Seven hundred miles of railroad track where thousands and thousands of Americans lined up to pay their respects. Farmers stopped plowing when the train past by their fields. Women picking cotton fell to their knees and lifted their hands toward heaven. Children were let out of school to wait by the tracks for a glimpse of the last boxcar in the procession that carried the president’s coffin. The bier that held the coffin in the Conneaut’s lounge (the name of the box car) had been raised twenty inches off the floor so that the coffin would be visible through the windows for all to see. Southern Railway System folks had to scurry to accommodate the late president’s unscheduled trip back to Washington. They did a masterful job.

I love research. I love being transported back in time. I love the thrill of discovery when I come upon a fact that had been illusive. But what I love most about research is gaining back what has been lost to me. History. People. Events. Where we’ve been prepares us for where we’re going. If we’re wise, we will take heed.

Wishing you a good day…

deb

Connections...

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Life is a series of footsteps and heartbeats… and/or pedal rotations.  With every step, beat and pedal we come closer to understanding who we are, why we are, and Who made it all possible.  The bike path of life is worn by the multitudes who travel her.  The comfort in the journey is knowing it isn't traveled alone.  We are companions connected by a cord of humanness and createdness.

Have you ever squeezed the Charmin?  Have you ever put peanuts in your bottled Coke-a-Cola?  Have you ever entered the wrong public bathroom?  Have you ever gotten clothes out of the dirty clothes hamper and worn them one more day? Have you ever been afraid?

        

See, we are the same, but different. We are God's most prized creation. We're all made from the same recipe with just a few different ingredients. To some are given a singing voice, strong and beautiful; to others, calculus or Shakespeare are old friends; A white sauce and chocolate mousse are works of art to the gourmet; Capturing the beauty on canvas or in needlepoint is the talent of a few. Connected by our sameness, we are enhanced by our individual uniqueness. We should embrace this, not be afraid of it.

        

Mankind melted in a pot means neighbors, friends, family, all with faces, all with names. God knows the names. He sculpted the faces.

        

With each beat, step and pedal, I'm coming closer to accepting my sameness all the while discovering my own uniqueness. We may bump shoulders along the path. If we do, will you walk a ways with me? Will you hop on your bike and join me? I can't be missed. I'll be the one on the pink bike wearing the day-old clothes.

Later,

deb

First Steps

 

 THE LULU CHRONICLES

I've had a rough time with God lately.  For a while life has hurled questions at me at a pretty fast clip. What should I do about this? What should I do about that?             

So, what did I do?  I took these questions to God expecting answers.  I told myself I could and would accept whatever the answers were.  I stood, ready, listening, and waiting. 

Nothing.

           

I heard nothing.  I felt nothing.  Well, that’s not exactly true.  I felt everything—  Fear. Doubt.  Frustration.  Hurt.  Answers.  I just wanted answers!

           

Nothing.

           

I processed.  I waited.  I re-processed.  I continued to wait.  I evaluated.  I waited. I re-evaluated.  I waited.

Nothing.

           

Today, I stopped waiting and walked out on a limb.  I took a deep breath, gave God a nasty look and inched forward.

           

I'm now sitting here lighthearted, a little shaky, but confident I did the right thing.

           

“God, You knew I was hiding behind You didn't you?  You knew I was playing it too safe and You wouldn't let me get away with it.”

           

Faith has nothing to do with safety and everything to do with taking first steps and praying while you run.

           

I have so much to learn.

Later,

deb