Don't Diss Your BFF

 

Have you ever had a friend that let you down?  You would make plans to meet for lunch, then at the last minute, they would call and cancel?  Or constantly reschedule plans over and over, until it just never happened?  Most likely, you disassociated yourself from that person.  You deserve to be treated with more respect for your time, and to be appreciated as a friend, right?

If you wouldn't take it from a friend...why take that treatment from yourself? That's the epiphany I had on a morning walk last week.  I work from home on Mondays, so instead of my usual lap around the Boston Common and Public Gardens, I went out in my neighborhood.  As I walked down the road that I used to run, I was almost giddy with the familiarity of the path.  I swear, I could FEEL my legs begging to run.  I wasn't in the proper shoes or clothing, so I just picked up my walking pace instead.

As I walked, I reviewed what had happened to my running training.   For the most part, it stopped during the cold dark winter mornings.  As it got warmer and lighter, I still snuggled under the covers.  I found excuse after excuse not to get up.  Recovering from a cold.  Getting to be late the night before.  The kids are up early.  It's only Tuesday, I've got a few more days in the week to make up the workout I'm missing.

That's when it hit me.  If a friend was blowing me off like that?  I'd be pissed, and probably stop talking to them.  Why then, do I l treat myself that way?  When it comes to fitness and health, you need to be your own Best Friend.  When you feel like sleeping through one more snooze button, imagine what you would tell your friend who you made running plans with that morning.  If you sit on the couch and watch the morning news instead of exercising with your workout DVD, imagine the conversation, "I'm sorry we didn't get together.  I was too busy watching the news."  You deserve better treatment from yourself.

To that end, I'm not saying that you become a Drill Instructor either.  In fact, being your own friend is just the opposite.  When I hurt my foot, and I wasn't able to work out as much, I was beating myself up, and felt like a wimp for not "getting back on the horse" quicker.  If that was one of my friends telling me they were mad at themselves I would not allow them to be so hard on themselves.  So why should I let myself, beat ME up?

WRONG: "What are you doing still in bed?  I don't care you have a sprained calf muscle!"

We are our worst critics and enemies.  If we are to succeed at being healthy...hell, at ANYTHING, we need to become our biggest supporters.   And with any successful relationship, it starts with just being friends.

Boston Strong

I get to say hello to Mama and her ducklings (who live in the Boston Public Gardens) during my lunchtime walks.

The Boston Marathon used to be background noise for a day off when I was growing up.   When I started working in town, a bunch of us would walk down Boylston and hang out at the Purple Cactus' patio bar and cheer on the stragglers (this was back when the race started at noon).

And then my social circle started running.  a 5k here, 10k there, then one of us hit the big show:  The Boston Marathon.  I was so giddy and happy and proud for her, I took the day off, and cheered her on in Natick and Boston.  In front of Lord & Taylor, to be exact.  She has a picture of us from that day, cheering her on behind the barrier.  I was five months pregnant with my son.  I won't share that photo here, because I do not want to associate that image during that wonderful day and her amazing accomplishment with what happened this year at the Marathon.

If you live or work in Boston, it's hard not to have any association with Boylston Street.  I've bought running sneakers in that Marathon Sports that's currently missing windows.  During my walks in the Common and Garden last week, I would hit the corner of Arlington and Boylston Streets, and see the gaggle of news vans, and the barricade.  I didn't stop, I kept going.  I did not want to gawk at the tragedy.  I was already overwhelmed with the events of that day.

I know, It's hard not to be overwhelmed if you have any association of affection for Boston.  The first time I saw where the bombs went off, I played the what if? game.  What if I had done my usual Patriot's Day activities, and went to the Red Sox game, then walked over to watch the race?  What if....   But, that didn't happen.

I wish I didn't have the images of that day in my mind.   I had just put down the kids for an afternoon nap, hoping they were exhausted from their trip to the park.  My daughter had asked if we could watch "more runners on TV."  That morning, we had all watched the start of the race.  She asked where her Daddy was in the race.  "No, Sweetie, Daddy's not running in this race, he's at work."  We all cheered the wheelchair race winner, then went on with our day.

I grabbed the remote and flipped on the TV, to have it on in the background while I tidied up from the kiddo tornado.  "If you are just tuning in..." the news anchor started.  I looked up, and saw the carnage on Boylston Street.  I ran for the phone, and called my husband.  I was shaken, and horrified, and needed another grownup to talk to.  He couldn't see the scene, and so was not as upset.  "Turn off the TV," he told me.  Instead, I told him I loved him, and then called my parents in OR.  I wanted to make sure they knew I was nowhere near Boston.  My mother and I watched the helicopter footage together.

More calls, more texts from people.  Who was there?  Was anyone we knew running?  The scariest game of Bo-Peep played while phone lines and websites were overloaded.  Friends and acquaintances we knew running were all accounted for.  Little ones woke up, and the television went off.  A lot of hugging happened.

Bostonians are resilient people.  We've stood up to bullying and fear before.  We lace up our boots, push up our sleeves, and say "That all you got?"  We also try not to do a lot of dwelling on things, and move forward when bad stuff happens.  We move on, we move forward.

The city is a lot calmer this week.  There's a lot less AR-15s walking around Government Center.  The news vans are gone.  Boylston Street  is open for business.  I decided to take some of that move forward energy and apply it to my fitness.

This morning I got up early, and went for a walk.  That became intervals between walking and running.  It felt good (so good, so good, SO GOOD).  The adrenaline rushing, being able to get out all that stress from these past two weeks, the anger, the fear, the panic.

We are Boston Strong!

Winter of Discontent

"Winter is Coming."

The month of February has not been kind to me or my family.  This has left working out in quite the mess.

First, we had a blizzard.  This meant school closures, and me not having time to work out.  However, there was shovelling, and pulling the little ones around in sleds:

Then, we had illnesses in our house.  First me, then the kids.  My illness left me not able to exercise, and the middle-of the night sessions with sick kids also did not help.  At that point, more rest for the body was more important than getting up to work out.

So finally, FINALLY, this past Monday I was able to get up and work out.  The week before I bought a new workout DVD, I found in the clearance aisle:

"Really, just 30 days of jumping, that's it."

I popped the DVD in, and selected the 10-minute cardio level one. I hadn't worked out in about two weeks, this would be a good way to start, right?  The workout is done by contestants, no BL Trainers in sight.  They go into a "warm-up," a term I use very, VERY loosely.  It was all upper body, wave your arms around, reach for the sky type of thing.  That was my first warning that something wasn't right.  We're going to be doing some cardio, right?  Shouldn't we do some leg warmups?

It then goes right into the "cardio blast" workout.  It was bad, really bad.  A LOT of jumping up and down, and about 8 minutes into it, I stopped.  My knees weren't happy, and it just did not feel like a workout.  But, did I think it was a bad DVD?  No, not at the time.  At the time that residual Evil Gym Teacher in my head was telling me "It's a professional video!  You're just out of shape, that's why it was hard!"

By the afternoon, I was walking with a limp.  The next morning, I could barely walk on one foot.  My heel was in so much pain I was hobbling around.  As I reflected on the previous mornings' workout, I saw two problems with what I did:

1. I did the workout without shoes on.  I haven't had a problem with the other DVDs, but there was not a lot of jumping up in down in those.  Not having shock absorbers pretty much wrecked my heel and my calf muscles for awhile.
2. I didn't listen to myself.  I knew the workout wasn't safe.  I knew something didn't feel right, but instead I doubted my knowledge of smart/safe working out because I still don't acknowledge that I CAN know these things, even though I'm obese.

I'm keeping myself on the DL until my calf muscles stop twinging in pain, which will probably be the rest of this week.  When I start up again Monday, I will go with what I know is smart: warming up, not too much repetitive motion that feels strained, TRUST MY INSTINCTS AND KNOWLEDGE.  Oh, and tossing that DVD in the trash.

Clothes, Clothes, Everywhere...and Not a Thing to Wear

I've heard being a tween isn't easy.  You're not a little kid, but you're not a teenager yet either.  I am finding this frustration in another form of 'tween:  sizes.

What you see above is the final assembly of an outfit five minutes before walking out the door to work.  Before that there was a half-hour of frustration which became me in tears, and seriously asking my husband if it would be wrong to take a sick day.  That's right:  I contemplated a sick day because I couldn't find anything to wear. 

I am right now in between sizes.  22s make me look baggy and frumpy, and doesn't show off the accomplishments of my hard work.  20s are just a smidge too tight, and make me look like that woman from Steel Magnolias, the one that looked like "two pigs wrasslin' under a blanket."  After trying on outfit #10, and being talked off the sick day ledge from my understanding husband, I put this together.   Then my three-year-old skipped past me, also wearing leggings under a skirt.  Dear lord, I've resorted to dressing myself like a preschooler.

This is such a hard time when you're working to get fit and therefore go down in sizes.  You don't necessarily want to spend the money on clothes that will just be a waystation before you lose more weight and need more clothes.  On the other hand, wearing the larger sizes just isn't flattering anymore.  It makes you look larger than you are, and the ill-fitting clothes aren't as appropriate for work.

What's important is exactly what my sweetie told me this morning as he kissed tears off my cheeks:  "Do NOT get discouraged."  This is part of the process. There are solutions. I'll be going through clothes bins I have in the basement, and see if I have more size-appropriate clothing.  If not, I'll hit the local thrift stores (Savers, Goodwill) and heck, even Target or Old Navy for lower-priced clothes to tide me over.

I really shouldn't complain too much.  I did recently purchase a size-appropraite piece of clothing, which was two sizes smaller than the last time I tried one on:  

I know I can't expect every outfit to look as fabulous as this one (hello, waist!), but I'd like to stop wearing layers and scarves to hide the ill-fitting clothes.   I know I'll get there, but some mornings it's harder than others.  It's all part of the challenge to get healthy.

Revisiting old Haunts

If you attended public schools, more than likely you had gym (or P.E.) class, all the way through high school.  If you were a fat kid, this class was the dreaded part of your day.  I LOATHED PE.  I would do everything and anything to get out of it.  There was the glorious month in high school when I was recovering from mono so I couldn't do anything that would damage my spleen.  And at least once a month I could claim cramps and sit on the benches.  Why did I hate it so much, besides the fact that as an overweight kid I couldn't do a lot of the activities?  The environment was less than supportive.

The majority of my phys ed teachers had no tolerance for out of shape students.  They used the same motivational tactics I've seen in the military movies my Dad loved:  scolding and humiliation.  Miss Chris, my 2nd and 3rd grade PE teacher, was the cruelest.  She remarked on my chubby legs slowing me down when I couldn't run as fast as my classmates.  When we did relay races, if I walked at ALL during the lap, she'd make my whole team run the lap again.  This didn't make me the most popular kid in gym class.  My mother finally had to intervene to get her to let up on me, which she did...barely.

It was in her classes I first encountered the Presidential Fitness Tests.  Every year students went through a routine of shuttle runs, standing long jumps, and other athletic challenges.  The teachers would tell you what a kid your age is supposed to be able to do, and then you tried to achieve that metric.  I don't think it's a spoiler to say that I never, in all my years doing these tests, "passed."

The gym teachers administering these tests made sure you knew how far below par you were.  Of course, my classmates picked up on the teachers distaste of my athletic failings, and their mocking jeers added to the chorus from the teachers.   I do blame the example set by those teachers for the bullying I got as a result of not performing well in gym.  The kids saw it was okay to mock me.  One such teasing session due to a Fitness Test (the long-distance run, if I recall) where I walked instead of ran led to girls teasing me.  I ended up fighting back and got my first (and only) suspension.

In the fourth grade, I was put into "Special PE," in order to improve my Presidential Fitness Test scores.  Instead of having recess, I and other athletic failures spent our free time running laps, jumping ropes, and other fitness-based exercises in hopes to improve.  Instead it got us mocked more by classmates.

It's no wonder that overweight grownups are scared of the gym, or exercising in public.  If you grew up in an environment where your attempts were met with ridicule, you'd avoid it like the plague!    I tried aerobics in college, then stopped as soon as I discovered the rugby team would watch us through the windows and laugh their asses off.  After that, I didn't even attempt anything exercise-related for years.  It took having an exercise facility (Curves) that targeted plus-size folk to get me out of the house and moving again.

Now I'm at a place in my life where I am trying to remove the damage of the past.  The inner-critics that have the voice of Miss Chris and those other cruel teachers are drowned out by my heavy breathing when working out.  While I'm working those demons out, I've decided I want to go back and address another beast:  the Fitness Test.

I want to see if I can now pass what I couldn't when I was a kid.  I know there's a grownup version, and I might use that as a standard.  Do it every year, and see where I fall within the standards.  I think I need to do this, and vanquish those demons once and for all.

Balance Isn't Just for the Scales of Justice

I can't remember the first time I heard about Weight Loss Surgery (WLS).  As a teenager I do recall hearing about people getting their stomach stapled to lose weight, in the same breath as someone talking about the staples getting ripped out, or infected.  I came away from that thinking surgical intervention for weight loss = bad.

In the beginning, I had only heard WLS associated with people that were in the home-bound, bed-ridden level of obesity.  Then somewhere around 10 or so years ago, it become more common to hear of people...well, my size...getting "The Surgery."  It became the go-to for losing weight, whispered around that this was the magic bullet that us fatties had been waiting for.  Yet, I never saw it as something I wanted to do.  To be honest, at the time I didn't want to do ANYTHING...I hadn't hit the clicking point yet for myself.

I admit it.  I am judgmental when it comes to using WLS as the "cure-all," for people.  I've watched people get the surgery, and then learn nothing about improving eating habits, exercise, etc.  One such person I knew even would eat enough to "dump," aka vomit, empty their now-smaller stomach, and once done, go back for more food because they "had room again."

This same person didn't want people to know they had WLS, so I would stand there and hear the praises heaped on them for all their "hard work," and how wonderful and skinny they looked...all the while knowing they had just 15 minutes ago been shoving the 2nd round cheese puffs in their mouths, while chubby me was eating my balanced plate of food, after running 2 miles in the morning, and still fitting in the 20-zone sizes.  Where was my acknowledgement?

Do I think this of everyone whose ever had WLS?  Absolutely not.  Everyone has their own reasons - and rights - to choose whatever method to lose weight they want.  There are people that this is truly, honestly, the only option they have.  People who need to lose wieght in order to be more mobile to move.

It's the "bad apples" that have put the bad taste in my mouth.  People going out gorging on food for their "last meals" before surgery.  People actually GAINING weight in order to qualify for the surgery...in what universe does that make sense?

I worry we keep going and reaching for the "magic trick," we are never going to learn how to be healthy.  I see devices like the Aspire Assist, and I'm horrified.  Is this really better than a trainer and a nutritionist?

Maybe it's not just WLS that I have an overall problem with in the Losing Weight Game.  Any time I hear the words "lose weight fast," I tune out.  I've watched people close to me do those.  Hell, anyone who has had a TV in the past 20 years watched Oprah go super-skinny on protein shakes, only to gain it all back (and then some) once she had to start eating normal food and meals again.  Carnie Wilson had a second WLS because she gained all the weight back from her previous Gastric Bypass, because in her own words, "I think it was just a combination of reverting back to old habits and not exercising anymore.”

Just so I'm not just bashing WLS, let me throw in the other "get quick fix" fad that is not healthy:  The Biggest Loser.  I wrote about the unrealistic expectations set on the viewers - and the contestants back in September (what a original title!).  The other night I caught the weigh-in part of the new season, to see contestants upset they "only" lost five pounds.  I found myself starting to yell at the TV, and then reminded myself of why I didn't watch the show.

I admit, I look at those SlimFast ads or the Magic Cookie commercials and think, "well, maybe as just a kick-start to get thin, and THEN I can do the healthy thing!"   I know that's not the answer.  It has to be a balance of a good diet and exercise.  It took a long time to get fat and unhealthy...it's going to take a long time to get healthy.


My approach to this is not that I am dieting.  I am changing my way of life.  Diet is a noun for me, not a verb.  This isn't temporary.  This is way I want, NEED, to live and eat and exercise in order to stay alive and healthy.

Losing weight is a balance.  Eat the food to fuel you.  Use the fuel to get moving and exercise, lose the fat, and build the muscle.  The "trick?"  Finding the best combination that works for you.  It may take awhile.   Keep believing you can find it, and keep working on it.  That's when the magic happens.    Your magic bullet is YOU.