It's official. I'm losing it.

Three weeks have passed now - and I feel like I'm running in place.

Maybe that's because I spend a good deal of time on a treadmill at the gym and sometimes, when you step off too fast it feels like you're still moving but not really going anywhere.

Or maybe it's because I'm still using the same smug belt loops and those snug jeans from last year still feel like a vice.

Fine. I can be patient. I work at Blethen - I've mastered the art of waiting...waiting...waiting for something to happen.

Anything yet? Nope.

So I stepped on the scale during this morning's weigh in with little expectation. The scale's screen blinked a few times - maybe waking up from a dream about running and salt shakers (it's going around these days).

And there it was. A 1.6 pound loss.

It's no record, but it's something. I'll drink to that. Or I won't. Maybe that's my problem.

Trainer Catherine talked to us about our eating habits this morning - mine being a day-long graze. I don't eat much at any given sitting, but that constant hand-to-mouth adds up to enough calories to power a small brewery.

I'm still grateful, though. It could be worse. I caught the tail-end of Oprah yesterday (um, on accident or something) and there was a fella on there that had once weighed over 1100 pounds. He lost 900 of it in 19 months - resulting in a trim gentleman of 198 pounds (that Richard Simmons really knows his stuff).

He even made the Guinness Book of World Records for the most weight lost by a human.

The second chapter of that story, unfortunately, has him gaining back every single pound.

I can't fathom how that happens. I don't think he really knew either. He said that as soon as he reached his goal of 198, he immediately went out to celebrate. One hot dog led to two, three, four and that led to fries and that led to cheese fries. 'Tis the slippery slope of pub food.

And as he's describing this return to gluttony, all I kept thinking was, "That's heartbreaking...and it's making me hungry. Do I have any potatoes?"

Good thoughts and a salt shaker: My first Reiki

I'm a cynic when it comes to less-tangible methods of "wellness."

Give me a sweat-inducing session on the rowing machine any day - I can feel that. I won't be able to lift my arms above my shoulders for two straight days, but at least I'll know I accomplished something.

So when I read that we five Questers would be attending Reiki sessions as part of the Quest for your Best program, I figured, if nothing else, it'd be a good time to recline back and write to-do lists in my head.

But there's just something about The Landing. You can't help but feel the good karma influence in both the people and the space. It's like someone painted the walls with Zen. The fact that I'm evening using the word "Zen" should speak volumes. The word - and it's implication - has always sounded...well, a little cuckoo.

If nothing else, though, I've committed myself to being open to the experience.

So there I lie yesterday morning, on a Reiki table in a small room with dimmed lights and ethereal music spilling from an iPod.

Reiki practitioner Valerie Davis said it might benefit me to think on an "intention" during the session. As in, focusing on what I hope to find or gain through this experience and life on the whole.

No problem. I started ruminating on feel-good stuffs. My thoughts weren't too precise at first - just general positive self talk.

I felt Valerie's hands pressing gently on the sides of my head. My face was flushed from the warm weather outside and I was grateful for the cool pressure. And I relaxed a little.

I started thinking about those warm weather days when I walk to work and everyone's mood seems lightened by the presence of sun.

I thought about how, "When you're smiling, the whole world smiles with you" and how I had tested that theory one day and even the guy who's always feeding the birds on Casco Street looked up from his pigeons and returned a "hello."

And none if it felt hokey - although it feels slightly so as I'm retelling it now.

Valerie placed her hands on my stomach and the thoughts kept rolling.

I found myself running on MacWorth Island (as I'm prone to do in the summer) only instead of the usual panting and strain, I ran with a dream-like ease. As soon I discovered I wasn't alone - there were people on the sides of the path watching - and applauding.

I paused my train of thought to make sure I was still awake. I marveled for a minute at how unexpectedly relaxed I felt - and how silly these visions were. Then I decided I didn't care that the were silly.

That is until the salt shaker appeared. I don't know why or from where - but there it was. A salt shaker in the middle of my Reiki experience. I swear, for a solid minute I thought Valerie was reading my thoughts and had put the salt shaker there as a joke. As though, when the session came to a close, she'd ask "Did you notice anything strange?" and I'd say, "Yes! A salt shaker!" and she'd nod and smile knowingly.

That didn't happen. What did happen was a solid hour of relaaaaaxing. I walked out of there in a happy fog. My saunter home felt like it was in slow motion.

My suggestion, even if you're a cynic (or especially if you're a cynic), try it once. But do it after work - that glowy, slow-motion feeling does not a functional office worker make.