Stress Habits

Everyone always tells you to look for patterns in your behavior - habits that do you no good when trying to be a healthy individual. Some are easy to overcome, others are damn near impossible.

For me, the easy ones have been nighttime snacking, not exercising regularly, and preferring junk food to anything else. Maybe they weren't as easy as flipping a light switch, but overall they were reasonably overcome with time and persistence. I don't even like to eat in the evenings now, it feels too heavy an activity before bed. I struggled with exercising six days a week for about the first 3-6 months, after which it became such an ingrained habit that my whole day feels off if I don't work out. Perhaps it was learning to make tasty healthy meals which I actually preferred that was the easiest of them all. While it's still likely that I'll prefer a chocolate milkshake to a salad, the truth is that I actually like the healthier fare now - and prefer it to 99% of the junk. It's probably due to the fact that how I feel after eating one verses the other is very persuasive. No one likes to feel horrible.

Then there are the harder habits and patterns to break. I have broken so many, but there are times when I have a particularly ugly one rear its head and I'm suddenly acting without thought. The best example of this is my behavior surrounding any visit from my in-laws. My instinct is to stop eating altogether - the whole irrational "maybe I can crash diet myself into some sense of personal stability to withstand the impending storm." Of course, this is absolutely ridiculous. Worse, it isn't what bears out in reality. Maybe I start with being really committed to eating less than usual, and then suddenly it's as though I awaken from sleep to find myself downing a couple bowls of cereal for no reason I can fathom.

While it occurs at other times (like finals this last semester), my pattern of stress-eating is never more prevalent than before my in-laws arrive. This only serves to further irritate the hell out of me, and I am generally already on edge at those times anyway. I imagine that because I get so mad at myself, that this is actually serving the purpose of distracting me from the inevitable nightmare that these visits always are. That is probably the number one reason I do it.

I have always been someone who likes to have something to chew on mentally while in the middle of something distasteful. Like mental bubblegum. If I have something else to think about, I can ignore the slights, the insults, the attacks - because I am worried about something more important to my thinking. This serves to not only deflect many of the blows, but to also keep me on my best behavior when I'd be more inclined to lash out in kind otherwise. I've survived 13+ years with the evil in-laws by being more angry at myself than them. Clearly, while not a healthy strategy, it works. And nothing works better to focus my internal thought processes on myself than personal failure.

So this stress eating that I do around these visits, they have nothing to do with food. In truth, last night when I realized I was having Cocoa Krispies for dinner, it occurred to me that I couldn't even really taste them. It's definitely not about the food. No other strategy has ever worked. I have done everything from responding in kind, to putting every card on the table and trying to hash out some way to co-exist. I literally said "We all know we don't like one another, but since there are children involved we need to find a way to get along." Their reply was that they didn't have a problem, clearly I was the problem, and that I should deal with that as they would have no part in it. There is no solution to be had with them, so I have to find one for myself taking into consideration that they will never stop their behavior.

Today, with T-minus 37 hours until they arrive, I'm trying to refocus myself. I have plenty of personal failure to distract myself with - I don't need to add to it by finishing off a box of cereal or eating the entire bag of carrots. I'm baking birthday cakes, and cleaning, and even getting my passport renewed at noon (so I can escape, perhaps?) I think the hardest habits to break are the ones that maybe deep down you don't want to. As destructive as this stress-eating habit is, and knowing that it's really about deliberately inflicting personal failure and disappointment upon myself in order to distract from things out of my control - I think that there is a very good chance that deep down I don't want to change it, because it does work.

I just need a better solution. Something I can retreat to internally that doesn't require self-sacrifice at this level. I have NO idea what that could be. I figure that may end up being my lifelong quest. I also plan to go running - A LOT - while they're here. Hell, maybe I'll just make a break for the Canadian border.

Queen's Pose

I managed to get in my yoga today. All 90+ minutes of it. I only got through it because I started it at 4:30 a.m., so my brain wasn't functioning enough to talk me out of it.

Yoga is just NOT my thing. It is long, drawn out, and... well, long. The only time I have ever enjoyed yoga has been in a specific yoga studio that I couldn't afford to keep going to (seriously, $12 a class? You have GOT to be kidding me! No membership, no discounts, nothing!) I'm too poor for good yoga, apparently.

Even so, during any type of yoga I find myself wanting to do something. ANYTHING. I want to be moving, to be jabbing, to be lifting, to be doing something other than holding a pose. It's not that yoga is easy, because lets face it - not many people can safely get in and out of a lot of those positions without upping the stock of both Advil and Mineral Ice. The increased flexibility reduces injury, makes everything feel better and loosened up. Plus it requires a lot of strength.

I totally get that. I totally respect it. It totally benefits me in so many ways. I totally want to be doing something else.

Give me boxing gloves or a sword any day over a yoga mat, and I'm a happy camper. Of course, that doesn't mean that I am better off without it - the fly in my ointment. One of many, I am sure. So I'll go on, crossing my legs behind my neck, and twisting to the heavens while dreaming of running 10 miles instead while every minute seems like 40.

Actually, my mind has a wicked sense of sadistic humor when I do yoga. I don't know how many of you have ever seen the series Dead Like Me, but there was a scene in it where a yoga, instructor in the middle of class with his feet above his head, suddenly breaks his neck because of some mischievous gravelings and dies in the plow position while all his female (in-heat) students are unaware. Now, I can't do yoga at all without giggling about that.

If someone knows of a way to get the benefits of yoga, without being IN yoga - I am so there.

Monday On Tuesdays

I'm not a fan of Mondays - AT ALL, but I have to admit that they're even worse when they're on Tuesdays. Yesterday was Memorial Day, so everyone was home. It was fine, but it felt like Sunday. Unfortunately, for some reason that throws my children into a complete tailspin. My perfect angels are actually royal pains in the... Tuesday. They wouldn't have been if it had only been a normal Monday, but because Monday is on Tuesday they seem to make an extra effort to drive me batty.

It also throws off my workouts. I always feel like I am doing the wrong one. The silver lining to that is that for some reason when you feel like that (a mild form of cheating, I suppose) it's a lot more fun. This morning was arms, and I entertained myself by watching for the veins in my arms to make an appearance. I know, that sounds just this side of loopy, but when it's 5 a.m. and you are lifting weights you have to occupy the minor thought processes present to avoid heading back to your pillow.

On another front entirely, about a week ago I dyed myself orange. It wasn't my intention, but it turns out that those Neutrogena self tanner bottles might actually be a color indicator rather than a product line bottle color. Ok, not really - but honestly my skin was remarkably similar in hue. I looked a bit like the Ommpa Loompas from the original Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Wow, looking at that picture, maybe more than just a "bit". I should have just completed the look and gone for the green hair!

Now, tell me that's not sexy!

Fortunately I had two things going in my favor after this disaster; my family is too used to me doing stupid things like dying myself orange by accident to be phased by it, and that this stuff wears off pretty quickly - especially when you make an effort to scrub off the first 20 layers of skin. Sorry, Charlie.

Well, given that - I decided to try again. This time I went for Banana Boat. I must admit it was hard to place my damaged orange ego in the hands of something named after what I imagine Goerge of the Jungle sailed in. I seemed to recall that BB had worked many years back without being orange. They had a new product out called SunDial as well (a dial your own tan kind of thing) and I figured, what the hell - my inlaws will be here Friday, might as well take the risk that they'll have something NEW to talk about besides what a horrible person I am. Being orange as the main topic of conversation might bring a welcome relief!

The cool thing is that I am not orange. It's a nice color and streak free... minus where I washed my hands and a water rivulet ran down to my elbow. So, as long as I never lift my arms - I'm good.

Someday I'll win lotto and be so rich I can afford to have real gold-dust sprayed on me by someone else... but until then, I get to be a high school science experiment with self tanners. It really is the little things that keep us entertained.

Motion Sick

I know that most people afflicted with motion sickness as children grow out of it. At least that is what they say. I never did, and I had it bad. I remember going to the grocery store and having to tell my mom to pull over so I could be sick on the side of the road. Back then, I thought the grocery store was really far away - turns out it was only about three miles. It's funny how being miserable can make anything seem longer.

Nothing has really changed, except that sitting in the front is better than the back, driving is better than being a passenger, and avoiding the car is the way to go if at all possible (which makes living 40+ miles from the amenities like Walmart or anything else totally ironic.) The thing is that other things make me sick now that never did when I was a kid. You would think that being so prone to motion sickness as a kid meant I couldn't go on things that spin around like amusement park rides, but that was not the case. As a matter of fact my favorite ride at theme parks was this standing thing where it spun you round so fast you stuck to the wall and then it raised into the air. I could ride it continuously without issue. The tilt-a-whirl was no problem!

Last year I went to the New York (upstate) Six-Flags, and let me tell you - I don't like those spinning rides anymore. I went on a kids one that hardly moved in comparison to what I used to love, and I was sick for two hours afterwards (but the roller coasters are still my thing, thank goodness!) That's an extreme example of something new developing, but here is another; I have problems looking about, or repeatedly getting up and down resulting in becoming motion sick. I can't garden like a normal person because of all the bending-weeding-standing-do it again motion.

Who gets carsick in a garden? Seriously!

I also have problems with certain exercises. In the P90X group, there are a couple moves I struggle with - not because they're hard, but because I have to keep turning my head. They have one called a steam engine where you lock your hands behind your head - look forward, and bring each elbow to the opposing raised knee. This doesn't cause a lot of head turning, but enough that I start turning ever so slightly green. In the Kenpo workout, they have a sequence of moves with simultaneous front and back strikes, front kick, then back kick. Following the line of sight on those also makes me want to grab my waste basket and turn my stomach inside out.

Maybe that's why running was is appealing to me - you pretty much just focus on going forward. It's a wonder my painting style doesn't make me nauseous. (I know, someone will jump in and say my art makes them sick... yeah, yeah, get over it.) Does anyone else have this problem? Ugh, I'm going to go and try not to throw up (both moves in the Cardio X workout today. Blah.)

Consumer Stupidity

I saw this story on Yahoo, and I just can't believe these people:

"Some Frito-Lay products to bear heart claim

WASHINGTON (Reuters) - Vegetable oils, salad dressings, crackers and other oil-containing foods made by PepsiCo Inc.'s Frito-Lay unit will now carry claims that products with unsaturated fat can curb the risk of heart disease, U.S. regulators said on Friday.

"Frito-Lay intends to apply the claim to vegetable oils, spreads, and shortenings that have a total unsaturated fat content of 80 (percent) or more of total fat," the U.S. Food and Drug Administration."


Touting Fritos as health foods! ...and people wonder why we have such a problem getting ourselves out of this mess? The worst part is, there are people who will go around with their bags of Fritos and telling everyone it's OK, because it's "health-food". I know this to be a fact due to a couple people who started gobbling down chocolate bars when chocolate was found to have redeeming qualities... never mind that they didn't mean that Butterfinger was to be included as part of a healthy daily regimen.

I suppose I don't really think consumers are that stupid, I think they just want justification for their bad habits, and I suppose that's what Frito-Lay is going to be able to give them - two parts fat and chemicals, one part denial.

Oh, Snap!

Oh yeah, I'm back! Well, not all the way, but I woke up at 5 a.m. and worked out! Oh, yes I did!

Today I am very thankful I am not a man. Granted, I'm frequently grateful that I'm not a man, but today was special. I was stepping over one of my heavy-weighted resistance bands and I accidentally put my heel too far forward on it, it slipped and snapped upwards with full force. If I was a man, I'd be sterile now. All things considered, it was not a happy experience for me regardless of gender.

I was also grateful that I was not in a gym full of people, and instead alone in the basement with my cat as the only witness at 5 a.m. I invented new swear words. Creativity has it's uses beyond painting and sculpture!

My right knee is also messed up (for no reason I can possibly think of besides aging *sob*), so I had to modify the workout, but I did it! Oh, it's so GOOD to be back to almost fully functional. There is nothing quite like doing wall-squats and watching your thigh muscles ripple. Of course, it was a lot less entertaining when they began to shake. I think my cold medicine is making me sleepy and shaky. I'm at the well-enough point where I am trying to decide if breathing is more important than my energy level while working out. It's a toss up at this point.

On the bummer chronicles, I was only able to do one and a half (I'm counting the half, cause I can! So shush!) unassisted pull-ups. I was up to four, once upon a before losing my mind and returning to college/university time. Yeah, I know college isn't to blame, but allow me my delusion for a while.

I also bulk baked some whole wheat pita pizzas. This is a big deal considering it's currently almost 90 degrees outside, lots of humidity, and NO air conditioning. I wish I had some lean turkey sausage to put on them, but I'm desperate for some healthy alternatives to my normal fare, and all I had was the basics for garlic cheese pita pizzas. They SMELL fantastic, so it was a race to get them packaged up and into the freezer before I did anything stupid. I did. Go me.

And now... I think I'll go run through the sprinklers for a while, and then head back to my studio. Painting painting painting painting!

Schools & Fitness & Nutrition

This week my daughter brought home a school report on a parent's responsibility for their child's weight. It was slightly bizarre because on the front of this pamphlet was stapled a record of my daughter's height, weight, and BMI for the past three years - along with a disclaimer that said that a BMI can't really be used correctly in relation to children and to instead compare where they fall within the "Wave-chart" of peers. (Totally true - so WHY include a BMI for a child in the information at all? Do you really want to start off confusing the heck out of people who don't understand BMI's anyway, and applying it to children it shouldn't be applied to?)

I'm of two minds when looking at this information. The first reaction I have is that considering the rising weights and declining activity levels of America's children - sending home information on how to nutritiously feed, make good choices, and encourage activity is a good step in the right direction. I looked through the pamphlet/book by the U.S. Department of Health - it's 27 pages long - that was sent home, and it is well done. It focuses on getting the whole family active and making good choices. It's a gentle approach to a sedentary (and actively in denial) society.

Kudos.

However, I find myself not just a little irritated at the school system. The school system which has cut physical education almost entirely out of the curriculum - so now it's only once a week in the schools that still have it (many do not.) The school system who just this past year divorced itself from ANY sports activity of any kind (they weren't paying for any of the teams anyway, they just didn't want any association between them and sports themselves. Maybe it was an liability thing?) The school system which yelled at my daughter for having a single Hershey's kiss in her lunch of roasted turkey on whole wheat with carrots and an apple, but encourages "fluff" sandwiches (white bread, peanut butter & marshmallow fluff) and mini-cans of soda and chips by not only allowing others to bring them to school without issue - but SERVING IT in their lunchroom.

Obviously, I am whole heartedly in agreement that good health starts at home. My kids play sports by their own choice, and we do everything we can to encourage it. We do not have "treats" all the time, they're here and there and small. We eat healthy, balanced meals. TV/video-game time is limited to only 30 minutes a day maximum, and the kids play outside constantly. The thing I need to do better on is actually chasing them down and slathering them with sunblock more often. But I also know that I am in the minority of parents that enforce healthy habits at home. I know I am lucky, because my kids crave carrots and apples more than pizza and ice cream (I am beginning to suspect they have alien DNA - they also never throw temper-tantrums, and they're best friends. That's not normal, is it?)

I know that my children are freaks of nature. But that doesn't mean that it's impossible to turn things around for other households even by a small degree. I get that, and the booklet was a nice step in reaching out with good information and suggestions on how to make an easy transition to a more active and healthy lifestyle. I just wish it hadn't come from the biggest bunch of hypocrites I can think of out here in Stepfordville.

I just wish that if the government was going to be tracking my child's personal stats, and sending home booklets 27 pages long, that they could also take a gander at the nightmare that the public school system has become in hindering these healthy habits. But then, that's my personal complaint I suppose. I just really feel that the school system has my child for eight hours a day five days a week and that comes with certain obligations. They have a responsibility to practice what they preach. For example, in my children's school they hired a public relations director for "community outreach" but they discontinued the Physical Education, Art and Music programs. They wanted to eliminate recess as well, saying that the kids didn't need it because the school needs those test scores for the money they bring. Fortunately someone in that meeting was smart enough to realize that would have been excessively stupid on their part - though I hear it's up for discussion at the next board meeting again.

I guess that's the problem - it's all about the money to the schools. Too bad it isn't all about the children instead.

What do you think a school's level of responsibility should be towards children in regards to physical education, nutrition, sports and other activities?

Question Day!

Truth be told, I don't get a ton of questions. OK, I do about certain programs like P90X or Body For Life - but not about me, per sey. I think people are scared of what they might find out. I don't blame them, I'm a little frightened too.

So, imagine my surprise when I got not one, but five (grouped) questions this week? They're random, but hey - what the heck! I'll answer them, and if you have other questions - post them, I'd be happy to answer.

1) Why don't you have a "100 things" list?

Because I can't imagine anyone wanting to know 100 things about me? I don't even know if I know 100 things about me. Seriously, I know everyone has one of these, but people don't actually read them, do they?


2) How much weight are you trying to lose? Aren't you already in your weight range? What was your highest weight?

My highest weight that I physically recorded was 222 lbs (no, I wasn't pregnant, nor had I been.) I stopped weighing myself at that point, but continued to gain. By the time I stepped back on a scale I had already worked my way back down a bit so I have no idea what my all time high actually was.

How much weight I am trying to lose is a tricky question. Yes, I am in my weight range for my height - but it's a BIG weight range at 132 lbs to 174 lbs. The reason is that if you go by the scale, things can be deceptive. For example, I was once 170 lbs and I was a size 16. I have also been 170 lbs (like now) and I am a size 10/12. You can change the shape of your body by how you use it. That being said, I am aiming for a scale weight of anywhere between 145-150 lbs, and a body fat% reading of 18-20% (I'm 25.6% right now. Yeah, I know, I've been bad.) And if I hit the body fat % before the scale weight, I will hang there for a while - but I sincerely doubt that will happen. The body fat % is more important.

3) What program do you follow? What programs are the best? Why don't you review other programs?

The best program is the one that works for you. The reason why there are so many "ideas" on the market is because people are so very different from one another. OK, the other reason is that people are greedy and if they can sell you water in a swamp, they will. The best program is the one you will follow, that promotes activity and healthy eating on a LIFELONG basis. You cannot change your body permanently without making permanent changes - it's a FACT.

I don't follow any program specifically. I did, at one point, follow Body For Life. It worked very nicely for me - but I wanted more. I mix and match depending on what I am doing - though most often I am following a program I design myself. It's a perk of being a personal trainer, and always having shifting goals. Right now, I have a simple eating program paired with workouts from P90X (but no, I'm not eating in the P90X way - or taking any supplements.) I'm only planning on following it for another five weeks, and then I am going to switch to a swimming based program for three weeks. Then I plan on a running schedule through the fall, with lots of weight training (i.e. back to my own plans) and so on. It's healthy to mix it up.

I don't review more programs because I can't afford to go out and buy them all.

4) Where did your personal training site go? Aren't you training people anymore?

Actually, I do still train a few people. My training site - well I just haven't had the time to really get it together. The people I am training are just a handful, and they are both in person and online via emails. I backed off of the training because I was in school full time. Finals only ended on May 11th. I couldn't take 18 and 20 credit hours respectively, and manage a lot of training at the same time. I'll probably get my site back up and running this summer, however. And, of course, if you have more questions you are welcome to email me.

5) Who are all the "players" in your life?

I assume this means the cast of my play, as it were? There is Mr. Savy, my daughter, and my son. I haven't thought of cute nicknames for them yet. There are my two dogs; Max, the Labrador, and Cosmo - the idiot... I mean Llhasa Apso. There is Socrates, the giant cat (22 lbs is no small kitty!) and then there are the assorted chickens and ducks who are the bane of my existence. There is also the one and only neighbor, whom I engage in Lawn-Wars with. My parents, of course. My in-laws, unfortunately. And lastly, as far as regular players here - there are the Stepford Wives; the animatronic, Tupperware based life forms that rule Vermont.

A Different Workout

While I love being at the end of my workout, covered in sweat, and feeling... I don't know the right words... quietly elated and satisfied with myself? I have to say, being covered in paint and feeling that in a whole different way totally rocks. I wish I wouldn't get so out of sync with my studio. It's something I must be in the mood for, or everything I paint sucks.

Today I'm in the mood - and it doesn't suck! And, true to form - the damn FedEx guys showed up when I "couldn't answer the door" (those who know, know what I mean.) But, that means my daughter's mirror for her dresser is here - Bonus! I may just have to stay this way for the rest of the week so the rest of the things I have on order show up.

I'm also searching for a new digital camera since mine is dead. Until then, I can't show anything I have been painting, or the bruise from dropping the 45 lbs plate on my foot the other day (after Amyella asked and I went looking to count them) or the creepy old bridge that makes me think of Sleepy Hollow and the headless horseman every time I have to drive over it. Seriously, I need a camera - I'm starting to freak out.

If anyone has one that they really like, tell me why. I'm sort of an Olympus and Nikon snob (cheap chic,) but I'm open to changing that. I have some criteria: high MP (no less than 6 - that's my scraping the barrel minimum), fast shutter speed and control - low lag, light capabilities (bright to night), etc. I haven't sold any of my photos in a long time, since I stopped showing them in galleries. But I'm still an avid photographer; to me it's just another paintbrush.

Speaking of which - back to the easel!

Counting

So, how many calories in a decongestant?

Just kidding! (sort of.)

*sigh* I miss normal activity.

Feed A Cold, or Feed A Fever?

Starve a fever? Starve a cold? I can't ever remember how that one goes. What happens when you have both like I do right now? Are you supposed to eat, then throw up so you can starve? Or starve, and then eat? I'm so confused...

I DO know that when I have a cold I sometimes get the munchies for crunchy salty things - this is not something that happens in any other circumstance. I am firmly on the sweet-side of the taste bud preferences. Which just goes to show how messed up your body becomes when you are ill. Dreaming that I was a clown on a tightrope over a shark tank last night was really just the cherry on top of the sundae'o'weirdness.

Feeling like I'd be better off pretending to be carpet than a human being has led to one thing at least - I am catching up on my TiVo backlog of shows. I have all sorts of things stacked up on that sucker. This morning I watched Painkiller Jane. I have missed some of the first shows, but I've seen... three now. So I don't have any idea how many I have missed, but I think I like the show. It's nice to see Kristanna Loken, I liked her as a Terminator. It's nice to see active strong women on the television again. Granted, I also caught up on a few shows which advocate the opposite. Case in point, I watched a couple episodes of Ugly Betty, and there was a scene in a jail-yard with a woman bench pressing and "don't you want to retain a little bit of your femininity?" or something along those lines was said to her. *grrrrrrrrrr*

WHY are muscles so firmly entrenched socially as a male trait? Do people really feel that women were born with just bones, boobs and skin? Sure, that's just a fashion-satire-comedy show. But it's those little things that speak volumes.

I'd go do an extra set of benches right now, just because the comment ticked me off... if I thought I could get up off the floor.

Surrender

I can't deny it any longer. I am sick. Usually, denial works out very well for me. I can usually deny a virus right through it, until I'm done with it, and then I win.

I'm not winning this time.

There really ought to be a rule about colds and other various typical illnesses - they're only allowed in the winter when you are supposed to get sick. This whole Spring/Summer with a cold thing is just not working for me. It's like experiencing snow in July. Wrong, I say! Wrong!

I have no idea what I have. It comes off like a cold where you feel as though your head is in a bucket of water, with hints of a stomach virus which makes you want to roll over and die. Well, at least it's not your standard virus! At least I rate the weird and unusual. If I break out in blue spots it'll be just this side of perfect, I'm thinking.

Last night I realized I wasn't going to be able to bully my way through this. In the evening I was considering my workout and thinking that maybe with the right medications I wouldn't have to change anything. By about midnight I was thinking about something as an alternative - still hard, but perhaps for not as long (my schedule has an hour down for today.) By about 3 a.m. I was thinking that maybe I'd just switch it to yoga - that doesn't require as much effort. By 4 a.m. I was thinking I'd only do 30 minutes of yoga, but at least it would be something. By 6 a.m. I surrendered.

I know I'm just sick, and everyone gets sick and you must take the time to get well and all that nonsense. But you know, it feels a lot more like losing a battle than allowing myself sick-time. The only workout I'm going to get today will be sitting in front of my easel painting. In between naps and decongestants. *sigh*

DOM'ed

Ow.

I find it endlessly fascinating how you can be a strong, active individual engaging in a serious fitness plan, and yet when you change it up by throwing in new or different elements even on just a smaller level, wake up the next day feeling like certain parts of your body are going to fall off. If you don't know what DOMS is, it's simply Delayed Onset Muscle Soreness. Translation? The next day after you have worked out in a new way, your muscles react by telling you that they exist - loudly.

My change of routine from lifting weights to P90X has triggered DOMS for me. It's not something I really think about, until I need to do something like... oh say, brush my teeth - and I find myself bending to meet my toothbrush instead of lifting it to my mouth. This is where you catch your own eye in the mirror and just laugh.

I have found that a lot of people are afraid of being a little sore with a new workout program. It's actually given to me as a reason they have avoided beginning a fitness routine at all - they don't want to be sore. For me, that was never an issue. I'm not exactly sure why. I think it's probably because every time I have been sore it's because I was out and really doing something instead of sitting on my duff all day. Usually, DOMS comes from something you did which should give you a sense of accomplishment.

I have run many races, and I never regretted the way I felt days afterwards. If it was a small race, usually the soreness was minimal - but you always run faster at a race, and since I'm bad at running, I always feel something. Still, it is a reminder of how I participated in something I wouldn't have ever considered doing six years ago. Not to mention the T-shirts... I'm a total race t-shirt addict. It's a sickness. But, I won't even sign up for a race unless it involves me receiving a tacky t-shirt I'll probably only wear working out or cleaning. They're like gold to me.

Sure, there is no T-shirt involved in changing certain elements in a fitness program. But even so, the soreness is more of a reminder that I'm still moving forward. A good feeling, DOMS or not! I just have to figure out how to brush my hair today, and I'm all set.

Against The Numbers

I'm competitive. There really isn't any way to cloak that fact about myself. The only positive side to the situation is that the person I am most competitive with is myself. This is a good thing, when you consider fitness and weightloss.

On the fitness side, I like to look at running as my example. When I was a child, the school would hold it's yearly fitness festival (called "Field Days") where you would compete against smaller groups of students for ribbons. There were all sorts of activities from climbing, to long jumps, to jump roping and of course the 100 yard dash. I found that I could beat everyone in every event EXCEPT for the 100 yard dash - where I could beat no one at all.

Height and strength didn't avail me in the 100 yard dash like it did in all the other events. It didn't matter how hard I tried, I was just slow. Running was not my talent. So, it soon became the focus of my frustrations. It didn't matter that I had blue ribbons in all other 20 events, I only got a white "thank you for trying" ribbon in the dash. It was all I could think about. I event tried training for it (sorta, as only a kid can) one year. White ribbon.

Of course, no one had bothered to point out to me that the fact of when I was born my feet had serious problems which lead to a very slight permanent limp that I never noticed until I was an adult and someone ELSE pointed it out and I asked my mother. Quick on the uptake, aren't I? That has to be a record, right? 20+ years and never noticing a small limp? (Why am I suddenly picturing myself as Igor?) That alone points to faulty mechanics, especially if you consider running. Still, running became my own personal competition. I accepted that I would never beat anyone - EVER. But that didn't mean I couldn't beat myself. Running a whole marathon proved that to myself, which was the main reason for running it in the first place.

I'm not going to try for longer distances, so I have new things to compete with myself about. Like bench presses. My high one rep maximum was (last year) 225 lbs. It wasn't pretty, but I did it (and felt it for days afterwards.) It's slacked a lot since then - FYI: time off does not maintain strength. You have to keep working at it, against it, fighting with it. I'm down to only 180 lbs on my 1RM. Annoying, but worth pushing against once again. I like to see the numbers increase, I get real satisfaction from it, even though I know others can do so much more. I don't think about the others doing less either - because it's all so individualized. (Well, I DO think about the ones only lifting 1 lbs dumbbells and calling out "Whew! Working hard!" I think about dumping them out the window, to be honest.)

Fitness is easy when it comes to competition with yourself. It's just about you and your abilities. Weight gets trickier. When I think about fitness I don't tie up all my personal self worth in it. I can't say the same about weight - and really, how silly is that? Logically, wouldn't your abilities mean a heck of a lot more to your self worth than the number on the scale or your dress size? Apparently, I'm allergic to logic.

I'm working on making the whole last few pounds thing become more remote like my fitness is. I pulled out my old Dietpower software (no, I'm not affiliated with them either, I don't get anything from them, I just really like their tracking program.) I was hesitant to use it again, because you literally track everything you want to (exercise, weight, calories, micro and macro nutrients, etc.) I was worried that I'd get over obsessive about it, as I have a few times in the past. However, this time I was pleasantly surprised. I don't like tracking unless it's really necessary, I'm more of a "portions" kind of person and I track that way (I like that it leads to natural caloric cycling, for example - along with less obsessing over details.) But you have to get the portions right.

With my current life stresses right now, coupled with my handy dandy old eating habits - the whole portion thing was getting cloudy and muddled up with opinions and feelings that have no place on a diner plate. Pulling out the program removed the emotion from it, and I was able to get a grip. I wouldn't mention it, except that I was really surprised. Even more, my spark for personal competitiveness (get the micro's and macro's right, along with intake requirements, etc) was sparked!

Sure, it's only me... but I love a good competition. And when it's against myself, I know there will be no tiptoeing around. It's all or nothing, bring it or go home. And you know, it feels really good.

I guess this was a long way of saying my little Lucky Number 7 Challenge is coming along very nicely.

When Life Interrupts

I have to admit, I'm feeling very down right now. Obviously, I cannot go into details, but suffice it to say everything is not silver and gold in my world right now. And I can't fix it, dagnabbit!

Do you ever fantasize about running away? Moving somewhere tropical... er... new, where no one knows you, you can be anyone you want to be. Of course, this would have to be a mystical place where people are happier and nicer in general, and all your original problems don't exist anymore. I'm not saying this place actually exists anywhere, but wouldn't it be nice?

I hate it when something can't be fixed. It's very aggravating. No matter how much effort or resources you put towards something, nothing will help - it's a very powerless feeling. Of which, it seems I react with either anger or depression. I'm trying out both this time, just for fun.

The upside is, I'm not eating my way through it - which is my preferred therapy. There is nothing that says "awww poor Kyra" like a pizza and a big vat of ice cream. But, it's nice to know that over the years my coping strategies have improved a great deal, and allow me to just wallow in my emotions instead. Yeah, this is SOOO much better. *sigh*

You know what the only good thing about NOT eating my way through something is? I don't have to pay for it later. That was always the worst part. The storm would blow over, the sun would come out again and my problems would be gone for a while - yet I'd have the parting gift of excess poundage to remind me of it. That's the best reason for not comfort eating, no reminders of bad times past.

Looking back, I suppose that's the most irritating thing about weight for me. When I am happy, I don't eat poorly. As a matter of fact, my appetite pretty much vanishes unless I am training for an endurance event or something. I don't forget to eat, I just am not all that hungry (I only forget to eat while I am painting.) So that pretty much means that, holidays being the one exception, all my excess fat has always been directly about bad things I felt. It makes you hate your fat even more, when you consider the seed that you allowed to begin it all, and you can't help but see the connection.

At least our responses are our choices. We can choose to wallow in in sadness, or wallow in sadness AND food. No one makes the choice for us. No one is spoon-feeding us without our permission. It's one small level of control we have over our destiny. That's something at least.

Now, all I need is a ticket to that tropical paradise and I am good to go!

Twisty

Yoga is strange. To a logical person, it seems silly. To most people, it's something they can't be bothered with. To me it's something that I don't want to do, but I know actually helps. (Which I suppose means I am not logical or most people, but I guess I already knew that.)

While training for the marathon in 2004 I experienced extreme tightening of my muscles, to the point that I was really suffering. Stretching (your normal runner's stretching) didn't help. Eventually, the doctors believed it helped contribute to my plantar fasciitis. I'm sure it did. I'm sure everything I did contributed to me ending up hobbling around like a 190 year old woman who felt like she was constantly stepping on glass, because I'm good at stuff like that. As I have said before, I am not physically built to be a runner. My mechanics just don't support the actual action, so I messed myself up pretty good by running the marathon. But I run anyway, even now - because every time I do it's like shouting "HA!!!!! You can't keep me down!"

I suppose I'm a wee bit aggressive sometimes, even to my inner self.

Even though it's several years later, I still have lingering effects from the marathon training. But you know what actually helps? Yoga. I kid you not. I can only reason that it's all the bizarre stretching involved, because I can't see any other reason why pulling my ankles up over my head could possibly be a good thing. Sometimes I'm in these yoga positions and the thought runs through my mind "You know, I bet this is how I would land if I was in a car crash and thrown from the vehicle." Or "A little further and it'll have gone all the way around... we can't actually be striving for that, can we?"

Obviously, I'm not a true yoga convert. I honestly believe that for those who make a connection with a certain exercise (like I did with running and weight training) on a personal level, that it is wonderful. It's just not something that appeals deeply to me. It could be that while I am actually very flexible, when I do yoga I find out how pitiful that statement actually is when I look around the room at the other people and see things that normally only emergency room doctors or homicide detectives witness.

Whatever the case, I know it helps. I cannot do yoga in a gym-class. I can do yoga in the right kind of yoga studio - but I can't afford it. So, I do yoga in my basement. With my cat. With the 22 lbs cat who sees the position of downward dog as a fun time to go nose to nose with me and express his disapproval with the meals I have been serving him lately. It'd be cute if it wasn't so consistent.

And I suppose I should stop procrastinating. I'm like a kid who doesn't want to take the medicine. But seriously, 90 MINUTES! 90 minutes of my life trying to make parts of my body go in ways they'd really rather not...

OK I'm done complaining. I'm off to do yoga. Yes I am. Really. Any minute now...

Because We're Human

I get a LOT of traffic from my P90X review I did about a year ago. A lot of people are looking for unbiased reviews of systems and plans out there for fitness and weightloss (especially weightloss.) Some of the people, when they see I've engaged in multiple plans, have lost a lot of weight, and am a certified personal trainer expect a certain level of... perfection from me.

It's funny really, because I'm probably the most imperfect person I know. What seems to have tipped the scales of expectation is becoming a personal trainer. I'm not sure what I thought about personal trainers back when I was obese. They were kind of like unicorns or fairies to me - mythical creatures that I wasn't sure if I believed in (and they kind of scared me. There was no one I felt more like a failure around than a personal trainer when I was obese.)

I ended up becoming a personal trainer because I was searching for information. I found weightloss and fitness, nutrition and balance such elusive concepts in the mass media - well, it ticked me off. I felt like the world was dancing around with various carrots in front of my face, making promises, and then jerking the prize out of my reach with a "for only 100 payments of 19.95!"

WHY? Why does fitness and health have to be held hostage with a price tag? Why was it so hard to find the answer? Why were there SO MANY answers, and so many of them that disagreed with the others? Which ones were right? And was it only for the perfect fit people, or the ones who had been athletes "back in the day"? Because I am not one of them.

I was on a jump-rope team when I was 11, and that was it. In Jr. High they banned girls from sports except cheerleading (and lets face it, me as a cheerleader is frightening on so many levels.) In high school they DID allow girls into sports - but only if you had played it in Jr. High, otherwise you weren't even allowed to try out. Yes, totally unfair. No, I didn't grow up in the 50's (I'm 32,) I just had jerks for instructors.

By that time, though - I had accepted that athletically I was decidedly UNgifted. This is still true to this day. Yes, I ran a WHOLE marathon (26.2 miles, to prove to myself it could be done) but I was S-L-O-W, we're talking six hours of slow. My feet often go in opposite directions. I can trip over invisible flecks of dust. If I was in an aerobics class, I always made sure I was not by a window just in case I ended up grapevining my way through it. Thank goodness coordination is not a requirement for being fit!

I was doing really stupid things early on in my "fitness journey." Of course, back then it was only a "weight-loss journey." Skipping meals, because I thought that eating as little as possible was what women were supposed to do. Working out way too much (we're talking hours and hours) because that was supposed to be key - and not weightlifting, but cardio. They always tell fat people that it's about the cardio. cardio cardio cardio cardiocardiocardaio.... GAH!

It's not about the cardio.

I did Weight Watchers, Slimfast, a couple I don't even remember the names of, not eating, cardio out my ears, personal trainers - who each had a different take and lots of cardio to prescribe, and even tae-bo (which isn't horrible or anything, but it was just more exercise that I dumped in and couldn't take me all the way to my goals.) Finally, desperate, skipping meals, working out like a fiend, and honestly not feeling all that great, I spoke with someone who pointed me towards the book Body For Life. Do I think it's the end all and be all of programs? No, I don't. But I credit it with showing me that women can and should be lifting weights. Not little pink dumbbells weighing the same as your toothbrush, but heavy weights. It also showed me that not only could I eat, I MUST EAT.

Guys probably don't understand this at all, but to most women - finding out that you must eat enough and lift heavy weights is earth-shaking. So, I figured if that was true, what else was and what wasn't? I hit the books. I did the library circuit, read medical texts, nutritional textbooks (I went for the university textbooks, not the fads out there on the shelves.) It was important to me that I know WHY something is, because I'd had enough of people telling me what their opinions were. I figured out the nutritional aspects of it - no I'm not a dietitian or a nutritionist, but I do understand how different nutrients and foods work within the body, as well as understanding that it works differently for everyone as well (on a smaller level.) I then wanted to figure out the fitness side, so I found a good personal training program - there are many - and studied for six months, learned a lot, and passed my certification.

My intention wasn't to train others, it was to learn. If people wanted me to train them, I had no problem with that - though I didn't charge very much for two reasons. The first is that I don't like that fitness seems accessible only through money, because I don't have excess cash and neither do most people. The second is that while I enjoy health and fitness, it's not my career. My career is an artist. Fitness is an aspect of who I am, but it is not the whole. You cannot be healthy without paying attention to the whole of who you are. Your fitness is important, but so is everything else. It's part of why I pretty much stopped training people for a while, I decided that school was more important and returned to get a different degree - this is being fit on a different level.

It's that everything else that can trip you up. EVEN personal trainers. We all have bad days. Bad weeks. Bad months. Bad years. As much as I may have wished it, I didn't become plastic when I received my certification. My emotions didn't evaporate. My bad coping habits didn't fade into non-existence. I have never smoked, but I have heard others speak about how 20 years after quiting, every now and then they still want to smoke. Well, no matter how much knowledge I gain, there are times I still want to swim in a vat of Ben & Jerry's cookie dough ice cream. And lets face it, you must eat to survive which puts you in dangerous territory all the time that without the right skills, you succumb to the easy instead of the healthy.

All those carrots being dangled, ignore them. The truth is that you have building blocks to work with. You have to decide what your goals are and stack them up block by block. I want to be strong and healthy, I want to feel good. Whatever. So you stack your blocks of nutrition, exercise, alternative coping strategies, and so on. But once in place they can be knocked down. The person who can call themselves truly fit isn't the one with the highest tower of blocks, it's the one who can RE-stack them after they have fallen down, over and over again. Because they WILL fall down, even for personal trainers and exercise gurus.

So, when you see me trying to fight off that 10 lbs I gained back - it's not because I don't have the knowledge. It's because I let my bad coping skills (I'm a stress-eater, sometimes I fall back into the habit) get in the way of immediately restacking the blocks. When you see me ticked off about having to go exercise, it isn't because I'm giving up or letting anyone down. It's because I'm human, and I'd rather be reading a book or watching television just like anyone else.

What makes me fit is the fact that I keep trying. I work out six days a week without fail (except when ill, or on vacation.) I can honestly tell you that while you probably won't like it any more than you do now, you DO become used to exercise. It becomes part of your day, part of who you are. It is not hard to go and exercise, not really. But it doesn't mean you will sit there saying "this is just the best thing ever!" But you are better for it every day, and you know it. There is a moment that comes when you are sweaty and tired and breathing hard afterwards when you sit in perfect silence and know that you have done well. That is what makes it worth it. That is what makes you fit.

Likewise, with food - the longer you eat healthy, the more accustomed to it you become. What starts out as not tasting all that great becomes preferred. Yes, really. Will you pick those perfect foods over your favorites every time? Nope. But I will tell you this: those favorites taste EVEN better when you are eating healthy and treat them as the indulgences they truly are. Do you fall back into old (easy, not the best choices) eating habits? Yes, they always lurk, because our society is stuffed to the seams with easy choices. It will always be up to you to make the right one, and that won't always happen. But it doesn't have to be the end of everything.

Being human is about two things. It's about messing up, absolutely. But it's also about picking yourself back up and moving forward. I don't know who made the quote, and it's not accurate either as I'm just spouting it off, but I like it: "It's OK to fall, just make sure you fall forward."

I'm a personal trainer. But I am also a human being. I fall down, all the time. I'm simply working on falling forward just like everyone else.

False-Start

I didn't start P90X like I thought I would yesterday, though I did do a HIIT bike session. I've been really tired with many things happening this weekend. But, perhaps I'll start today. I was up until 2 a.m. last night, so maybe after a short nap here, I'll haul myself down to the basement and get going. Actually, the more I think about it, the better of an idea it sounds.

I really need to get on a normal sleep schedule. Being out of school has lead to a lot of late nights over the past couple of days. It's nice not having to worry about projects.

We went grocery shopping yesterday. It was a big trip, because it has been so long since I have been able to fit a trip into my day for more than the basic essentials. We made it to the Super-Walmart an hour away, and if it was even possible, there are even MORE things I have never heard of at the store. The kids were with me, and it was a never ending cycle of them finding something new (and horribly full of chemicals and goodness knows what else) and me saying no, and then having to explain why EACH TIME.

I have been debating on when to teach my child to read labels, but maybe it's time. Apparently, most people in the U.S. do NOT know how to read labels (which I really don't understand, it seems straight forward to me - but what do I know?) There is even a campaign with a cartoon character to teach people how to read a label. I was planning on bypassing the cartoons and just passing on the knowledge to my kids - but I wanted to do it without creating any "issues". Food is a focus for so much in a life, I didn't want to add this portion of it too early.

At what age do you feel a child should be able to read and fully understand a food label? I feel like it should probably be a part of a course offered in school (like health classes?) But I'm not certain at what age. I suppose the upside to all of this is that at least I'm not stressing over the sex-talk yet.

The Right Fit

Looking back, I don't think I have ever been one of those people who was "comfortable in my own skin". This is annoying, because that means that on some level I have always been UNcomfortable. It's true though.

I was sitting in my bath tub last night, looking at myself and wondering what it felt like to be one of those people who ARE comfortable in their own skin. What must it be like? Instead of noticing every nuance of things that aren't as they should be... do they notice anything at all?

I know that those who are comfortable come in all shapes and sizes, which means that anyone who is uncomfortable because of their height or weight or whatever, that it truly isn't about those things. That begs the question then, what IS it about?

I don't have the answer. Maybe it is about not caring about what anyone thinks (including yourself) about you? It's a thought. I don't mean that you don't care if you hurt someone else's feelings, or not wanting them to think poorly of you - but more along the lines of you know you are doing your best and if someone else can't accept that, or wants to rip it apart, well - that's their problem not yours, and you give it no thought because it isn't worth any?

Maybe it's about not focusing on the negative aspects of who you are at all? Not that you are oblivious to your flaws, but that you accept them, do your best, and simply move on?

I have no idea. I just know that it's a quality I don't possess. I know that at my thinnest (and I was very thin) I wasn't "good enough" and I still wasn't comfortable. I know that around other people there is always self doubt. I know that I pay attention to what other people say to me, and give it too much weight. But I would also like to point out that knowing these things doesn't mean I can simply flick a switch and change it.

Too many people try to tell others to "just change it" or "be like a duck with water, and let it roll off your back." This annoys the hell out of me, because traits like these are not so simple as changing your clothing, they are literally a part of your inner programming and who you are. How you view people, and how you react to certain things is a major function of who you are as a person. So as frustrating as that is on the outside to someone else, it isn't up to that person to tell you to just change it.

So what is the solution? For some, it will be turning around and not caring. And good for them, but not everyone can do that. For others, and I think I am included, it is about focusing on the positive and powerful things that make you feel good, even though you are aware of the bad. Try to see more good than bad, even though you can't let the latter go. That's still a hard proposition, and I don't know if it is entirely successful.

I think the another key is in pursuing that which you know makes you feel good. For me, fitness and health fall into that. But so did going back to school, so I did. So does painting... Actually, now that I think about it - when I paint, I DO feel comfortable in my skin. I exist on on a different level that I can't explain. I'm me, in a way I never could be in any other circumstance. I am enough. I am OK. No one has to like my artwork - because it isn't about anyone else. It's my only safe place I guess.

I wish there was something I could carry around to maintain that feeling of absolute calm and peace that permeates my being when I paint. I would be a different person. I wouldn't have felt as humiliated last night as I did when I was made fun of for eating a peanut at my daughter's soccer game by a jerk. Or a couple of the other incidents that continued thereafter that triggered this whole post. Maybe I need to carry around an easel with me at all times, and become oblivious to the world?

Are any of you 100% comfortable in your own skin? Why? Why not? How does that color your reactions to other people, both positive and negative?

The Great Scale Debate

My scale and I have long had a tenuous friendship, at best. We go way back. I suppose it all started at birth. They weigh you when you are born so you get to meet and become acquainted right away, and isn't that part of the judging process? It's like a pumpkin contest at the local country fair! Think about it, the only thing people wanted to hear about when you were born was how tall/long you were, and how much you weighed!

I have to admit, I didn't have a normal childhood with regards to the scale. My mother had an eating disorder and weighed me regularly. Even so, she wasn't the only one. At a large school function where all the kids were gathered in the gym, they called down kids a couple at a time to weigh in front of everyone and wrote up on the blackboard who weighed the least and the most. I believe I was in the 6th grade at the time, and I won for the highest weight. Of course, they weren't keeping track of height - and I was taller than all my teachers except one, and by far the tallest child in the school. But that didn't matter. Even though I was so thin you could count every rib, that didn't matter.

I remember going home and wanting to never go outside of my house again. I was afraid of what my mother would think if she found out I weighed the most out of all the kids at school. The other kids labeled me as the "biggest" from that point on, which always meant the "fattest" even though it wasn't true. But more than all of that - I felt like I was too big to be allowed, and it all came down to that damn number on a scale. While I had wanted to be "thin" before, and had been overly aware of it (due to a combination of my mother's obsession with it, and the 1980's diet-to-death fads that came sweeping through) I had never focused intently on what the scale actually said.

From that point on, going on into junior high, then high school, all I could think about was that number on the scale. I was never above my BMI weight range, but my change in activities did lead to a gain within it, placing me at the high end of what was acceptable. My mother enrolled me into weight watchers with her. There is something strange about being 16 years old, and having another person weigh you and with cluck with disappointment, or congratulate you on your weightloss. It's a very surreal experience.

I didn't go very far with weight watchers, likely because I wasn't really over weight to begin with. Still, I remember circling around the scales in my house, weighing multiple times, imagining what it would be like if I was really thin. How, if only the numbers said something low like 125, my life would be perfect. Somehow boys would notice me (they never did), teachers would be nicer (they never were), and all the planets would align.

Onward I went, going through my life, but with the scale always a part of it. I started to realize it was determining my day. If it went up, I was in a bad mood for the rest of the day. If it went down, I was euphoric for the day. That's a lot of power for a hunk of metal to have over a person.

I got engaged, moved, and was miserable. Not with my fiancee (husband now) but with where we lived (Chicago) and my life. I ate. A LOT. I gained. A LOT. I kept weighing myself, and watching the number spiral upwards. Weighing didn't make me stop the damage, it only gave me something to justify my misery with. I stopped weighing at 222 lbs. I know I kept gaining, but I was so depressed I couldn't even face my scale anymore. I didn't need that extra dose of self abuse, I was too close to the edge already (and I mean that in every way possible. Take that as you will.)

We moved, I tried changing things in my life. We decided to have children. Ah pregnancy... it becomes all about the scale with your doctor, doesn't it? They weigh you every time they see you. Not to mention, everyone is always talking to you about how you can "lose the baby weight." How annoying is that? You should be focusing on your new child, and everyone wants to talk to you about the baby-weight you have put on.

Time passed, I got smarter about eating and exercising after doing some research. I learned Why The Scale Lies (excellent article, and TRUE - you should read it if you haven't yet.) And I started to question my relationship with my scale. And then, I struck gold with my eating and exercising. I lost all the weight in a completely healthy non-deprived manner, and hit a low not seen since junior high school. I was happy with the number, but not with myself. I found more problems with what I could see in the mirror... and then I thought to myself that if I could get that number lower, maybe it would eliminate those problems. The number would still have been in my healthy weight range (us tall folks have a lot of wiggle room to play in our weight range, mine is 129-173 lbs or so.) But it all became about the number again.

Now, where I am after having gained back some weight, and struggling to lose it for a long time, I am back and forth arguing with my scale. I went through a period of time where nothing I did could stop the gain of weight. It was a metabolic nightmare, and I couldn't fix it. It actually made me afraid of the scale. I'm not at that point now, though I still have cycles where my body decides to gain for no justifiable reason (regardless of intake and activity levels) such as right now, and I end up sitting on the floor contemplating my scale and what it has come to mean in my life.

Last night, a woman told me about how she doesn't own a scale anymore. She said she was a slave to the scale (which came as a surprise to me since she is bone thin, and has a rather prestigious degree in nutrition.) She said throwing out her scale was the best thing she ever did. She only judges by how her clothing fits now. Nothing else. She said she is much happier.

Everyone thinks about throwing out their scale. But I suppose this is really the first time I have been serious about considering it. I talked to my husband about it, and he is against the idea thinking we'll just have to buy another one later if we do this - and why can't we just pack it away or something? I explained that I'd still know it was there, and that doesn't work. The flip side to this is, what if I want to see my progress? I won't KNOW what progress I have made. Isn't that a bad thing? But the idea of being freed from the number is tempting. I already know to stay far away from the scale on days I know it won't say anything nice to me. Maybe staying away all together would be best. But would it?

So, where do you come down on the great scale debate? Do you own a scale? Have you thought about throwing it out? What does having or not having a scale do for you?

Change of Plans

I have changed my mind. I'm going to do another round of P90X starting Sunday. However, I'm going to probably NOT do it for the three weeks I am in AZ, and actually BE on vacation. Then again... I'll be at my parents, and I might be bored out of my mind. Heck, I may end up doing doubles at that rate...

Nah. I'll be in the swimming pool. Who am I kidding? So that's six solid weeks (a smidgen more) until I head out. We'll see what happens. I'm just in the mood to buckle down, and I'll have more time to spend on it after today. Still planning on my adventurous walks as well.

Will I take photos? No, because my STUPID camera is broken. But I'll track other things for the masses of the curious. ;)

Technical Difficulties

I have only ONE photo to share with you all from my walk yesterday, because my stupid camera broke. I had high hopes, because I tested it out here before I left - but I only managed to capture one photo from my walk and then it died a LOUD and sad death.

The worst part is, the photo is really boring. Not the pretty stuff I was hoping to share. Well, here you go. This is what it looks like on the street I live on. Sorry I wasn't able to take cool photos of the graveyard, the horses, the waterfall and everything else. I plan on buying a new camera, and then I'll have plenty to share. As you can kind of see, the trees are still barren. But I have seen tiny buds and leaves everywhere! Soon, there will be so much green I'll become colorblind.

Admittedly, it was a bit unwieldy to haul my camera with me. I'll have to examine the portability factor with my next purchase. We only made it about four miles as well. It ended up being warmer than I anticipated at about 85 degrees (in MAY? Very weird...) therefore my dogs were ready to turn around fairly quickly. I also ended up with a blister on my toe. How can I run miles and miles, but if I walk four, I get blisters? I even wore my sleek anti-blister socks!

Today is my last final. It's a formal presentation, and last night I was trying on clothes I hadn't worn in a very long time. I have to say, there is nothing quite like trying on something and realizing it won't fit due to your own stupidly poor choices. It makes you alternately angry and depressed. I hate that. I wish I was one of those people who could just live my life accepting me for what I am at any given point.

Yeah, that's not me. I don't do that. I have never said to myself "this is perfect, this is great" in reference to me. It's always something along the lines of "well, this is pretty good, but boy - look at that, and that, and that. Talk about a need for improvement!" And that is at my best, not my worst. It gets very mean at my worst.

One thing that compounds this whole thing right now is that I'm also at a low point with my weight. Not that I'm weighing lower, but that I've sunk low and gained. I'm turning it around, as mentioned earlier - but I am a stress eater, and I stressed out and ate. It's not only depressing, but a little bit scary to be this weight again. The irrational fear that I can't change it, I can't escape from this, permeates everything. It's irrational thinking, but in my head I hear "geeze, even if I stopped eating, I'd probably still gain." Now, this is likely due to my experience with my screwed up metabolism where this was, and still on a MUCH smaller level IS going on.

However, like I said, it is now irrational. Now, it's about sticking to my guns, making the right choices, and seeing a little bit of success. If I can see things turn around I'll feel less trapped and helpless, even though I am a smart enough person to know it without seeing it - I just NEED to see it.

OK, enough blathering. Onward to my last final, and my first ever summer vacation since I was a teenager.

Steppin' Out

Today I will take my first adventure into excessive walkdom. I have plans to walk to a bridge about four miles away. The only thing that will hold me back is my dog. He's a total wuss. However, due to the amount of wildlife out here, I feel it's important to have something along to offer the carnivores to eat besides me. (Oh, like you wouldn't be thinking it too. Don't look at me like that.)

Actually, Max (the Labrador, AKA wuss) is as big as a bear. So maybe I'd actually be in even more trouble. I tried taking Max with me when I was going on my training runs for the marathon I ran back in 2004. It was a good thing I had my cellphone on me, because after about two miles I had to call Mr. Savy to come and pick him up. I have high hopes today, though - because we're not running. I have never gone that far (eight miles) without running them. I get impatient. I start looking at the clock, realizing I could be that far by now.

So, we'll see how well I do. I am bringing my camera, and I plan on taking photos - IF the stupid thing works for me.

I took two finals yesterday. That leaves one left to take tomorrow. I would say the went well, but one most certainly did not. My "group" for my Accounting II class LOST the PowerPoint slides for our presentation, we were not allowed to go and look for them, and not allowed to turn them in later. Why didn't I have them, you ask? Because, get this - they weren't even STARTED when I went into my first final. I had been on them all week to get this massive paper put together, so we could do the power point. Do you think they did anything? No, they actually STARTED it the morning of the final. Can you believe that?

Yes, it's been that way all semester. No, the teachers won't let you do anything about it. You can't complain, you can't switch groups, you can't do it on your own (not that I could, the amount of work is insane.) So, I went into my final with an A, and I am going to be lucky to get a B or a C. Unfreakin' believable.

Still, five finals are down now. One to go. And then vacation. *sigh* Sweet, Sweet vacation. It's going to mean a lot of cleaning, but hey - at this point, I'm all for a clean house again!

Lucky Number 7

A friend (who will remain nameless, until she decides to announce herself) and I have decided to team up for the next seven weeks. We're challenging each other to lose 14 lbs over the next 7 weeks. This is reasonable when you factor in the initial water-weight from the first week.

Why seven weeks? Well, because I have seven weeks until I go to Phoenix, Arizona. I would like to actually fit well in my clothes when I go. I mean, I realize it's hot out there, but I'm quite sure walking around without clothing because nothing fits is frowned upon.

I'm also FINALLY coming to the end of my semester. I have two finals this afternoon - one I'll ace, the other I am ready to smack some heads together on (group project and presentation, and they haven't done anything yet.) Then only one last final on Wednesday that I am all ready prepared for, so there is nothing left to do. In other words, really after tonight, I'm free! That means it's time to get down to business. I already have, actually, so it's time to just continue forward.

I am not going to do P90X for a while, because I want to take advantage of my walking hours. However, once the kids are out of school I may switch over then (they can only go about two miles before they start threatening to write a book about what a horrible mother I am when they grow up.)

My camera is having fits. It can't decide whether it's broken or not. So, I'm going to give it a go taking it with me. If all goes well, I'll have photos from every walk to post every day I go (which will be every day it's not raining.) I'll start this on Thursday... so look for incredibly boring photos of trees, rocks, squirrels and graveyards - because apparently these people are really into them. There is one on EVERY street. Does that seem sick to anyone else? Heck, maybe I'll make it my graveyard walking tour!

Double Whammy

I had a surreal experience last night. Actually, the whole day was insane, from start to finish. Finals, traffic, doctors, finding out my son has scarlet fever (which I remember reading about in Little Women, I believe - kinda freaked me out, but it's no big deal now I guess,) and heading off to my daughter's play last night.

Mr. Savy does a lot for my daughter. He's the soccer coach, so they spend a lot of time together. Enough that I feel bad, because I don't have something like that with her. It's their passion, and well... I'm just not all that fond of being kicked in the shins. Call me crazy. However, my daughter is also a drama-queen. Every Spring, the elementary school puts on a play. My daughter had a bit part, but she was thrilled.

I couldn't help out with the play (because of school - everything was always during my classes) but I sure as heck wanted to support her in it. So, when my son fell ill this week I talked to Mr. Savy and we agreed that I would get to be the one to go and see her in the play. It never even occurred to me that I was in for a double whammy because of it.