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My personal journey toward attaining health and fitness. |
| Two and a half weeks ago I made the decision that is time, once and for all, to lose weight and get fit. Both of my parents have cardiovascular disease and I already have elevated cholesterol. It is time for me to re-set my body to where it needs to be. My goal is to be as fit and healthy as I can possibly be. To achieve this goal I began working with a personal trainer at my gym. This was not an easy decision, nor do I expect it to be an easy journey. I am not well-off, so the expense is a stretch for me, but I see it as an investment in myself that is long overdue. I expect to work hard, I expect to be sore, but the end result will be worth it. Please read on if you want to know more about my journey. |
| I've been afraid of success for so long now that I have a hard time imagining exactly what my life might look or feel like when I do achieve what I want. Failure, on the other hand, isn't quite so scary. Failing allows me to go back to where I started. Success moves me into a different sphere and it changes everything. So, even though success is a good thing it can be pretty damned terrifying. I am, slowly, learning and exploring what success looks and feels like for me. Today was a good day. I took on my nemesis the plank...and won. Two minutes. Two hard-to-breathe, quivering muscles, feel like I'm going to hurl minutes. When I collapsed to the mat after I saw the two flash up on my ipod's stopwatch I felt amazing (ok, I felt crappy and amazing at the same time). This little thing that I was allowing to beat me was beaten. It may be a small success but it's another step closer to where I want to be. Where is that, exactly? What does success look like for me? I'm still working that out, but here's what I've come up with so far. It means a strong, healthy, fit me - body, mind and spirit. It means taking the best possible care of me that I can. It means looking in the mirror and liking what I see. It means feeling comfortable with my body. It means continuing to challenge myself physically by trying new things and pushing myself. It means a lifetime of eating nutrient dense, healthful foods and exercising. It means lowering my cholesterol and having a healthy heart. It means loving the way I feel when I workout - strong, empowered, happy, and energetic. I think it's a good beginning. I can say yes to all of the above. I believe that I can have all of that and more. I can succeed and I can and will accept that succeeding means a new and different life. |
| Whatever wall I was up against on Tuesday. I shattered it last night. I had an intense, energizing and upliftling workout and I am feeling stronger and more self-assured today. I started off with my nemesis, the plank. I took my handy ipod (so many uses in one little gadget!) and used the stopwatch to time myself. My goal, at the start of the workout, was one minute, thirty-five seconds. (On my way to the gym I figured out that I need to increase my time by five seconds per day to achieve my goal by Tuesday.) The last few seconds were kind of painful, but I did it. Victory number one. My next challenge was to increase my cardio by fifty percent. No gradual increase this time around. I was a little nervous about it, but I have found that if I break the time into thirds it feels more do-able. The first fifteen minutes were the most daunting; those were the new ones in my mind. I pushed past a rough spot at about eight to ten minutes and was feeling pretty good by minute fifteen. The second fifteen actually felt pretty damned good. My heart rate was where it needed to be and I was sweating heavily, but I didn't feel out of breath at all. The last fifteen minutes were...dare I say it...sweet. I felt amazing! Energized. Clear-headed. Motivated. Aside from the fact that my feet went numb by the end, that forty-five minute cardio session was sublime. I think I hit that 'high' that intense exercise sometimes brings and I enjoyed it. I decided to do some abdominal work since that's always a good idea. No matter how often you do them, they always hurt a little. I can feel them the whole time so I know that I am building a nice, strong core. (And a flat tummy would be a nice bonus!) Once they were good and fatigued I re-visited my old friend the plank. My goal this time was to see how long I could really hold it when I am tired. My abs were screaming at me the whole time, but I did stay up for a one minute, one second. That felt really, really good. I shared my successes with April before I left. I feel like I have regained control and regained momentum. One nice little perk - April mentioned that some other gym members have pointed me out and have noticed that I am losing weight. It's a nice validation of all of my hard work. Tonight I'm on my own, so I'm going to attempt to kick my own ass. I've got it all planned out in my head, and I will keep account of everything I do in my journal. |
| Sadly, this entry is not about pirates no matter how badly I may lust after Captain Jack Sparrow. It's about my current training goal - to hold the plank pose for two minutes. For those who don't know, plank is a held posture balancing the body on forearms and toes, elongating the body as much as possible. It sounds and looks simple. It's not. It kind of sucks, especially when you do it in the middle of your workout when your muscles are already screaming at you and you're sweating like a pig. I'm battling with plank at the moment. My goal is to hold it for two full minutes. The longest I've done is a minute and thirty seconds (pretty good!), but when I'm already fatigued I have not been able to hold it for long. I feel shaky and nauseous and I slide around on the mat in my puddle of sweat (charming picture, ain't it?) The more April tells me I can do it, the less I believe it and then...I give up. I collapse onto the mat in a pile of sweaty goo. I'm still working on why that's happening, but I know it's all completely mental. I'm simply having trouble believing that my worn out muscles could possibly support my flabby body for any length of time. I need to reset this belief but I'm not quite there yet. I did, in the end, hold it for 45 seconds last night. Not a stellar performance, but I was able to set that goal and to regain my focus. That is progress. I think the honeymoon phase is over. I've dieted too many times to count over the years and, at the beginning it's easy to stay focused and motivated. It gets harder, the changes aren't quite as noticeable, the diet starts to feel a little blah and it becomes tempting to just give up. I'm not giving up. I'm going to keep moving, try some new things, allow myself the occasional treat. I haven't been doing too much of that so far. It's time to find a little bit of balance in my diet - to trust myself to have the occasional splurge without getting too far off track. Over the weekend I went out to lunch. I intended to have a nice salad or a healthy wrap. I ended up eating an entire gooey, greasy turkey reuben. (I tried to eat just half but. damn it, the waitress took too long to come back to take my plate. Yes, I know, I'm trying to subtly shift the blame. It was me. I ate it. I admit it. Let's move on.) I did have a side salad with it, instead of chips, and I only ate about five of the crispy french fries that my nieces insisted on. But I felt uncomfortably full when I was done and I felt terrible the next day - bloated and guilty. Now that the bloating has dissipated, I've forgiven myself for that misstep. On a positve note, even though I felt really crappy, I went to the gym and did cardio and weights. Guess what? I felt better when I was done, like I had balanced things out a little bit. Last night's workout was rough. April increased the weight on my lower body circuit and it was a tough adjustment. I felt a little off-kilter at times and I was having a really tough time staying focused and present. I don't like the way that felt. I want my intensity and my focus back, damn it! I could blame it on a number of things - feeling a little drained from the humidity, PMS, allergies - but I know that those are just excuses. I need to push past those things and get back to where I want to be. I'm on my own with my weight routine on Thursday so I intend to really push myself. I will report back here with the results on Thursday night or Friday morning. Tonight I am amping up my cardio routine. April wants me to increase my time to forty-five minutes. This is going to be a challenge, but I will break it into three fifteen minute blocks. For some reason, that makes it feel a little less daunting. I expect it to be difficult, but I believe I can do it. I'm also planning to work on my plank - first thing and at the end. I need to push myself on this one. I will get past this block. I know that when I do I will be very proud of myself. Now - the gross part. I was doing some stretches on the mats last night and when I got up, I left behind a perfect little sweat angel, just like the ones we all do in snow, just a little grosser. (Admit it, no matter how old you are, when it snows you still want to fall back into it and make one.) It gave me a laugh in the middle of a challenging night, so I had to include it. And don't worry, I did clean the mat when I was done! I guess that's it for now. I'm over the issues I was having last night and on the weekend. Time to push on, to regain my momentum, to blast this infernal wall out of my way. |
| I'm a Libra. I don't like feeling off-balance. I like symmetry, harmony and equilibrium. Lunges make me feel off-balance. When I was doing them the other day I felt wobbly and uncomfortable. My ankles felt like they wouldn't keep me upright and, consequently, my lunges looked and felt very awkward. April reminded me to use my abdominals and to focus on the muscles that I was working rather than on my unsteady ankles. By breathing into it and using my core and by visualizing the muscles that I wanted to work I began to feel more control and more balance. I'm learning just how important core strength is. It's like the steel beams inside of a skyscraper. A strong core is the framework for a strong body and helps to support and power all of the other muscle groups. Every single exercise I do - arms, legs, chest, back, even cardio - use the core muscles and when I remember that my form is more effective and my workout feels amazing. That's true of life in general. When my life is in balance I am creating that strong framework that makes everything work together. I need to have good balance between my relationships, work, play, spiritual life, and physical life. When any one piece is out of whack, everything else starts to fall to pieces. Exactly a year ago today my Mom had a heart attack. It sent me into a tailspin - she is the heart and soul of my family and the fear and pain of almost losing her was devastating. Thankfully, she is doing great. It's taken me a little longer to recover and it did provide a huge wakeup call for me. My Mom is in good shape - she eats right, walks almost every day (at six am!) and is at a healthy weight. The fact that I was none of those things at the time got me back to the gym and into some yoga classes that lasted through the fall. Sadly, it didn't last. First, my gym closed it's doors. I found another one right away but I couldn't seem to get into a routine that worked well. When December came, all Hell broke loose. First there were interruptions due to some family obligations - it was holiday choral and band concert time and I always support my nieces in their efforts. I knew it was only going to get worse. My entire family had plans to go to Disney World for Christmas. It's a challenging time of year to travel and there were a lot of extra logistics involved in celebrating the holiday away from home. I was feeling stressed, but instead of working that energy off at the gym, I let it eat me up. And then things got a whole lot worse. A week before we were supposed to leave, my Mom fell at work and hit her nose on the corner of a filing cabinet. She ended up with a bloody nose that wouldn't stop because of the blood thinners that she was on. There were three trips to the emergency room and, two days before we were supposed to leave, she ended up in the hospital. On top of that, one of my beloved cats just didn't look right. I took him to the vet who diagnosed a thyroid problem, but the thyroid medication made an underlying kidney problem worse. The night before we were supposed to leave I rushed him back to the vet and had to make the heartbreaking decision to let him go. It was, without doubt, one of the worst weeks of my life, but everyone did make it to Florida and we had an amazing Christmas. I intended to get back to the gym and yoga as soon as I got back but I had a million excuses - it's too cold, it might snow, I'm too tired. So I didn't go. And everything else started to fall apart. I struggled with writer's block. I felt irritible. I had little energy. I started to feel stuck again. The practices that kept me strong and balanced were out of sync and I knew that it was time to do something. Something big. My life is more balanced again. I eat right and exercise six days a week. I meditate every morning. I feel happier and more energetic so my relationships are healthier too. And, thankfully, my creativity has returned. I have a lot of ideas running around my head right now and I am ready to take a big step with one of my completed stories. Finding balance is helping me to focus on what I want my life to be like. Just like I can visualize the muscles that I am using in order to work them properly, I am beginning to envision what my life will look like. I believe that I can achieve what I want to achieve. And I believe that I deserve it. That's a huge change for me. I had another intense and amazing workout this morning. I love how I feel when I'm done - exhausted and exhilerated at the same time. It feels good knowing that I'm doing something that makes me feel so powerful. I know that what I'm doing is not going to be quick or easy. I don't really want to be. It's a journey. One that's becoming more and more challenging and intriguing as it progresses. I'm not a huge Hannah Montana fan, but I heard The Climb last night and I was struck by some of the words. Ain't about how fast I get there Ain't about what's waiting on the other side It's the climb I've been rock-climbing, outside on a real cliff. (Not a big one, but still...) Every single placement of foot or hand had an impact on my progress up the cliff. There were little victories and occasional stumbles. But I made it to the top. And even though it's been years, I can still remember how that climb felt, from start to finish. Fear, panic, excitement, energy, exhileration. Every move brought a different feeling. Every move, good and bad, moved me closer to that final step onto the top of the cliff. So even if I don't love lunges or upright rows, or if I shake from head to toe when I try to hold plank for two minutes, I know that they are helping me to move in the right direction. I may not love them, but I do appreciate them. I definitely enjoy the challenge of them. I know that little by little, they are getting easier and less painful. I'm learning how to focus and push through. I feel a little better about them every time I do them. In time, they'll just be steps along the pathway. They'll be easier and April will help me to find a new challenge. I can't wait. |
| I knew it was coming. I was actually looking forward to it. But the reality of a whole new program this week was tougher than I imagined. Tuesday's workout was, without a doubt, the most intense and challenging so far. A punishing circuit for the legs - dead lifts, squats, reverse lunges, plie squats and step ups - done three times (and I know that I will eventually do five!) followed by some new upper body exercises. It was painful. It pushed me beyond what I thought I could do. But I did it. And about half-way through, I started to get that how-familiar exhausted yet exhilarated feeling. I can almost feel the endorphins zooming around my brain and I'm beginning to really like that feeling. Gulp. I think I'm addicted. I didn't expect that. I used to see exercise as a necessary evil, a means to an end. For the first time, I think I really understand why people do crazy things like run marathons. Exercise makes be feel good and it makes me feel good about myself. But it goes deeper than that. I feel strong, powerful, empowered. I feel confident. I want to test myself and push myself outside of my comfort zone. I love the way those victories feel. When I was done my first lower body circuit the other night, I happened to make eye contact with one of the guys working out nearby. I was sweating profusely, breathing hard and probably red in the face. But as I took a few swigs of water, he gave me a 'thumbs up'. That simple gesture helped me push through the next two circuits. I'm very proud of what I am doing, but that little bit of validation from a stranger really made my night. The thumbs up told me that I was doing a good job, that I should be proud of how hard I was working, that every drop of sweat was worth the effort. I'll remember that next time I need a little push to keep going. In fact, I used it last night. My legs were very sore yesterday (they still are, actually) and the first few minutes on the Arc Trainer just felt miserable. I was tempted to give up but I took a few deep breathes and just kept going. It still hurt like hell, but I made through the entire thirty minutes and I was able to do my usual abdominals. I workout with April tonight. I'm still very sore, but I know that I will do what I need to do. I am one hundred percent committed to this process because I already know that it is working. It is a challenge that I am eager to take. |
| I am not fond of mirrors. I don't have one in my bedroom and I typically only look into the bathroom mirror for long enough to put on my makeup. I'm so used to seeing my perceived flaws that I equate the mirror with a certain amount of discomfort and even pain. I'm the same with having my picture taken. I rarely like the end result so I usually slip out of the picture. I could probably count the number of times I'm been photographed in the last year on one hand and I don't like any of them. When I look in the mirror or at pictures of myself I see a flabby belly and a double chin. It hurts and I it is something that I truly want to change. I'm a huge fan of makeover shows - What Not to Wear, How to Look Good Naked, How Do I Look? - mainly because the external makeover is only a piece of the puzzle. It's often the subject's perception of themself that has the most dramatic shift. Believe it or not, I've learned a lot from these shows. I've learned to dress the body that I currently have in a way that is flattering - I used to wear everything baggy and now I wear clothes that actually fit. And I've learned how to find some things in the mirror that I do like. I have nice eyes and high cheekbones. I have shapely shoulders and nice collar bones. And, overall, my shape is proportional. It helps to know that I can find positive things to focus on in the mirror. The gym is full of mirrors. It takes some getting used to. I know why they are there. It's not so the cute, muscle-bound boys can admire their bulging biceps while they do their curls. And it's not to torture me either. Working with weights is hard work and it is imperative that the exercises are done correctly. This prevents injury and insures that the muscles are worked effectively. So...gulp...I have to look in the mirror. The first week was the worst. April reminded me over and over to keep my head up but I kept focusing my eyes on my sneakers or the weights in my hand. Anywere but at the woman in the mirror. I'm not pretty when I exercise. I have to pull my hair back tightly to keep it from hanging in my face, which makes my face look very round and makes my double chin look enormous. I sweat, profusely - not like those lucky girls who just get dewy - I sweat everywhere, even my knees! And my face turns bright, vivid red (the curse of fair skin and a tendency to blush easily). Watching myself like this was tough at first. I'm getting better. The woman in the mirror is less of the sweaty, red-faced chick and more of the determined woman who is working her butt off to achieve her goal. When I remember that, I can look. I can watch what I'm doing, correct myself, do every repetition just a little more perfectly. I can see the subtle changes in my body already - a little more muscle tone, a little less fat. That makes me feel great. That reminds me that I am doing something good for myself; that I am taking care of myself. It's a pretty amazing feeling. I'm becoming a little fonder of mirrors and of what I see reflected back at me. I'm not obsessed with my outward appearance. I don't need to be super-skinny or super-hot. But if I said outward appearance doesn't matter to me at all, that would be a huge lie. I want to love the way I look. But more importanly, I want to love the way I feel. |
| A little over two weeks ago I made the decision to work with a personal trainer in order to attain my goal of becoming fit and healthy. This was not an easy decision. Financially, it is a stretch for me but I know that it is an investment in myself that I need to make. I have been battling this my entire adult life. When I look at pictures of myself as a child, I see a healthy normal weight, but I was always called the 'chubby one' in comparison with my cousin, who was the same age and super skinny. Constantly hearing that I was chubby and being put in oversized 'chubby' sizes (what a cruel label) by my Mom, I began to believe it, to see myself that way, to hate the way I looked. I probably attempted my first 'diet' at twelve or thirteen and have been on that roller coaster ever since. College brought the freshman ten (plus). When I quit after two years, I gained weight at an alarming rate; by my mid-twenties I was beyond chubby. I was fat. Obese. No one likes the word, but my BMI was over 30 which is clinically obese. I was unhappy and I truly hated what I had allowed myself to become. I joined a gym run by a female bodybuilder. She gave me a diet and exercise plan and over the course of about ten months I lost seventy-five pounds and was, for the first time as an adult at a healthy weight (actually I was a little underweight). I was determined to keep it up, but when I decided to return to college and removed myself from the safety of my gym and my mentor I began to gain weight, more gradually this time, but I was overweight again within about five years and obese in a another few. I tried taking the easy way out - FenPhen - and lost a ton of weight but I felt horrible. I was at a 'healthy' weight but I was definitely not healthy. And once the dangers of FenPhen were revealed I quit taking it and gained everything back and then some, as if I was punishing myself for what I had done. I made a few attempts at diet and exercise in the years since, but haven't been able to lose more than twenty pounds before giving up. Two years ago, I found myself in an unhappy and sad place. I was felt miserable and trapped in my job and had become the family doormat. I was watching everyone else live their lives but I was just trudging along, not going anywere, feeling kind of numb. I had recently heard and read a lot about life coaches so I decided to check into it. I found a coach in my area and began working with her. I've discovered a lot about who I am and what I want my life to look like. I've soul-searched and meditated and learned to love myself. And as I've gained self-love, I've gained confidence. The confidence to take another leap of faith. I've thought about working with a personal trainer for a few years now and I've even looked into it before. But I felt like I didn't quite deserve it, that I wasn't worth the investment. I now believe that I am worth it. It may be a bit of a stretch, but I am single, I have no children to support and I my expenses aren't huge. So I made the commitment. Two weeks at first. Four sessions with my trainer, April, just to see if it was right for me. April did a fitness assessment first and determined that my cardiovascular health was not good. She told me that I would be doing lots of cardio on the arc trainer - three to five times a week. It wasn't what I wanted to hear, especially when she joked that I'd be running a marathon someday. I like working out with weights; I feel strong and powerful. Cardio made me feel out of breath, uncomfortable and on the verge of puking. The very thought of doing thirty minutes of cardio at least three times a week sounded dreadful. But I believe that April knows what she is doing so I started doing it, only ten minutes the first night, working towards my goal of thirty minutes on level two. Not only did I achieve that goal in just a week, I now love my half hour on the arc trainer. I plug in my iPod, crank up some high energy tunes and sweat my way through. When I am done, I feel tired but energized. I am now up to level four and April tells me that I glow when I come off the machine. (But that may just be the mist of sweaty making me look all dewy and glowy.) The other part of my routine are my workouts with April twice a week. She challenges me in ways that I would never have challenged myself. It's an intense, difficult hour but I feel absolutely amazing when I am done. Yes, I am often sore the next day but that actually helps keep me moving. I have to get up from my desk to stretch and walk around. And it absolutely makes sure that I get my cardio in the next day, since that seems to be the best 'cure' for my sore muscles. I changed my diet when I started this program. I now eat very little processed food. Almost everything is fresh - fruits and vegetables, chicken and fish - and as much as I can afford is organic. I eat lots of lean protein and healthy fats like olive oil. I eat very little sugar, which was the hardest thing for me to give up since I definitely have a sweet tooth. I eat three meals and two snacks a day and I've completely cut out snacking in the evening. At times, I have trouble eating enough calories since nutrient-dense food have so much 'bang for the buck'. The food tastes delicious and my food preferences are shifting away from my old junk food patterns. But it's not easy. There's a lot more preparation involved in making a salad to take to work than grabbing a meal-in-a-box from the freezer (loaded with sodium, even some of the healthy ones) or making a noontime run to the McDonald's drive through. I don't deprive myself completely (I allow myself one dessert a week) and I am rarely ever hungry. My breakfasts are more substantial, so I don't gravitate toward the vending machine for snacks. Instead I choose fresh fruit, yogurt or some Kashi crackers with organic peanut butter. And I drink tons of water. Has it been worth it? Absolutely. After only two weeks I feel amazing, better than I have in a long time. I have more energy. I fall asleep earlier and more easily than I can ever remember and wake up at six am, every morning, fifteen minutes before my alarm, which gives me an easy leisurely morning and allows me to spend twenty to thirty minutes meditating. I have lost about six pounds and, at last measurement, an inch off of my waist. In two weeks! I've set small goals and worked to achieve them. Each one is a victory and gives me a feeling of accomplishment and joy. My clothes are starting to feel loose. My self-confidence is soaring. I feel sure that I can uncover that healthy, fit body that's deep inside this fat one. It's less about the number on the scale this time. It's about being as healthy as I can for as long as I can. It's about loving myself and challenging myself. When I'm on the arc trainer, there is a point where I feel exhausted, like I can't go on; but I tell mysef that I can move through it, past it and glide through until the timer hits zero. I simply have to choose to keep going - one more minute, one more rep, I am ready to make these lifetime habits. And maybe, just maybe, someday I will be ready to run that marathon! |
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