Aches and panes

Ohh...I am sore. And if I weren't sitting in front of a window, in an office building, I would probably lie on the cool, cool floor to try and find relief. I hate it when I take a break from weight lifting. On the day that I get the brilliant idea to go back to it, I wreck myself for the rest of the week. I know, I know. The key is "Don't stop". But...there are so many more interesting places to be than the gym! It doesn't help that I can't hike, or swim, or do any lovely outside activity because the East Coast is locked in a death match with the sun (and losing). It's miserable outside. But on a positive note, one of the shows I'm working on is finished, the other is in rehearsal, and I'm down another couple of pounds. A few more, and it'll be noticeable on my frame. I'm excited. And...that's really all the news. It's a cruel, cruel summer.

Paint on my hands, a smile in my heart, and an ache in my hamstrings

Hey faithful friends! It is I, one of the Mcbloggers. It has been three weeks since implementing the plan, and so it's time for some feedback. As you know, I broke down my 13 week plan into weekly "bites". I was going to tackle one thing each week. Week 1 was intermittent fasting. Intermittent fasting is basically the idea that if you regulate when you eat, it serves your body better. Medical science is starting to back this up (in rats), and fitness gurus support it as well. In fact, all my life I've heard "Don't eat after 8. Ladies can't burn fat as well after 8". Well, what I'm doing is not so startlingly different - I eat now from 11am - 7pm and fast the rest of the time. I have water,and unsweetened tea, though, so it's not a complete fast. The goal of the rest period is not to get the hackles of my insulin receptors up. And let me tell you, I feel pretty good, I sleep well, I don't crave a sugar shot first thing in the morning anymore, either. Week 2. Week 2 was all about working out. I got to yoga three times a week, and added in some commute walking. The original plan was to start going back to the gym but that'll be difficult til W get's out for the summer. What I'm really digging though, and the one thing I thought I'd have a crazy hard time with,is the idea of the "active recovery day". These are days that I don't specifically set out to work out,but maybe I'll hike a little, or take a stroll, or play frisbee in the park. This week, while my show is in tech week, I've been squatting, stretching, and lifting set pieces to paint them. I am covered in paint, I'm exhausted (I've had about 6 hours of sleep in the past two days), and my legs hurt. Yay for THAT! There is not one day this week that finds me sitting on my ass the entire day. And I'm completely fine with that. Week 3 was supposed to be a meditation day, but honestly, I'm not ready to move from fasting and working out yet. So I pushed off a week, and will start meditating again, 10 minutes of sitting a day, on Sunday. Things are otherwise good. I'm down 3 lbs this month (!), my best friend graduated, and my show is going up. I had what I think was a good audition last week, and I get to spend all next week with my sibs. And their pool, stocked fridge, and better cable package. A good way to start summer, I think!

I'm here, I'm here

I'm just very sore. Aggressive working out combined with intermittent fasting in addition to my successful quest to add my silly name to the Dean's List means that I'm a tad bit sleep deprived. BUT I'll be back, and in full force soon. Maybe even later on this evening, if you play your cards right, you saucy minx.

Health Transcendentalist

Emerson said "Adopt the pace of nature: Her secret is patience". Well, I'm always working toward being a little more patient, especially with myself, but this week I did more tromping through nature than I did emulating her. The B's, one of my favorite families, and I went on a long, long hike on Sunday. 5.5 miles to be exact. Not bad for a few hours worth of walkin'. I kept up with an elementary schooler, so that's something :) We walked dirt paths, stream beds, rocky trails. I took a tumble, and have some nice, yellowing bruises for my effort. And I got to spend my afternoon with great, likeminded people. Pretty good for a lazy Spring Sunday. I like Emerson, and the whole transcendentalist thing; sparks of the divine everywhere you look, communing with nature, seeing G-d in the great outdoors. It's easy to feel spiritually attuned when gazing at a waterfall, or out over a flowery meadow. It's less easy to keep your breath steady when the way to said meadow is fraught with hills and streams to fjord. I love hiking because, well, I can set my own pace. The hills that I'm trying to climb will be there whether I pump up them at 4 miles an hour, calves a'screaming, or go slower, at 2. And when I get to the top, I'll have a beautiful view waiting for me. This kind of reminds me of my weight loss goals in general. I've crawled along at turtle's pace, and just lately I've been chugging along a little harder. The hill is still there, when I wake up and whenever I can't get out of seeing myself nekkid (I guess I don't NEED to shower so often), and when I have to buy clothes. But when I reach my goal, the top as it were, there will be some great things waiting for me. I'll be able to run, jump, keep up with my younger siblings. I'll have energy, I'll feel better, and I'll know that I can take care of myself. That I can set and meet a goal, wear a swimsuit without fear, NOT get the beetus. Paint my toenails without contorting. Or maybe you always contort when you do that? I don't know. I repeat this to myself over and over again, that I'll be better if I just get off my ass. After seven hours of classes when I just don't want to move, after hours behind a desk, or a book, or the computer, I try to motivate myself. Until I can keep pace with my friends and their 5ks, I'll continue to keep Emerson on the brain, and keep pace with nature, and the hare, and all those other patient people who did not take all their weight off in a day. This next hike is for you.

Go to hell, stairs.

No matter how much weight I can lift, how long I can run, or how many flows I can sweat through (okay, the answer to that is still that if you make me yoga for more than 20 minutes, I will lie, defeated, in child's pose for a bit), stairs still give me trouble. I'm down 20 lbs since I started paying attention to this blog (which is not the same as when I started it), I feel great, I eat healthily...and I still get completely winded when I have to go more than 3 flights of stairs at a go. We're all told that if we want to be healthier, we should take the stairs. This is utter bullshit. Opting for stairs over elevator is not going to get us out of heart attack country unless we're climbing ten flights, multiple times a day. And how cringeworthy is it to truck up a couple flights and have to fight to hold your breath at the top so that your mates don't see you gasping. Like they don't notice you turning red, right? Right. It's embarrassing. It's discouraging. And I think it might be partly psychosomatic. I wonder if, knowing stairs are trouble spots, I freeze up a little. Are my eyes sending signals to my brain - "Brain to Lungs. Brains to Lungs. Attention. Stairs Ahead." To which the lungs shout back "Shut down like Madagascar during a sneezing fit. Got it" I dunno. You guys got any athletic hiccups? PS - As you can see by my not blogging Sunday, hot yoga was a tad traumatic. I think that once I get more sure of my poses, and can flow better, I can focus a little. I can't deal with both the heat and the lack of prowess. One's okay, but not both.

Another goal, another muscle ache

I've got a couple new short term goals that I'd like to share with you, Internet.

Goal number 1 - Complete the 30 day yoga challenge! I started today - the plan is to do AT LEAST 20 minutes of yoga a day, for 30 days. This should hypothetically be easy because I have an internship in a yoga studio...but I make it to a class MAYBE once a week. That's got to change because I'm working for free if I don't go. I'm one of the 87 people on the yogachallenge subreddit. See if you can guess who I am.

Goal number 2. Even though I haven't officially been invited...and I'm pretty sure it's a family only event...my friend and fellow blogger D, is hiking our state's part of the Appalachian Trail for his birthday. It's a good 40 miles. It'll take a week. And he's totally inspired me. So, even though I'm not going, I'm training like I am. I've been doing 5k plus miles every day, plus hitting the bike and the rower extra hard (that rower is worse than a bag full of kittens on fire. I hate it so much), and still lifting. We'll see...hopefully I'll be in shape...D...if you change your mind... :)

If you're a reader, I highly recommend A.J. Jacobs new book "Drop Dead Healthy". It's a great look at faddy nutritional frenzy done "off the deep end" style, which is what A.J. does best. When you've finished laughing your ass off, consider picking up his other books. Listen to his Ted Talk. Follow him on Twitter. Stalk him on Facebook. Like ya do.
Disclaimer: Jacobs doesn't pay me to promote him or encourage cyber stalking...but I'm hoping he'll come across this in a fit of narcissistic googling and give me a shout out.

My platonic lifemate, T, is doing the Warrior Dash! He's raising money for St. Jude's Children's Hospital, a great cause. If you know him, or don't, and want to donate, you can find him here.

Tomorrow is my first hot yoga class, and I'll report back if I survive.

Namaste, you crazy kids.

Elbow powers, activate!

My elbow is no longer shooting painful spikes into my arm! It still hurts, but I think it'll be all right by mid-week. Til then, no bowling, no lifting.
I did play some catch today in the yard. Does anyone else get as excited as a laundry basket full of puppies at the thought of playing catch?

Today I did not work out. It's post-Pesach weekend...I can't say I ate very well, either. But I did get the chance to do something nice for someone. I learned a bit. Despite the discomfort I was in, it was a great day. I hope you had a great day, too.

I reek of Tiger Balm

This week, I have covered my arm in Tiger Balm because of a muscle injury.
Did I injure myself lifting more weights? Doing yoga? Saving kittens from a tree? Something awesome?

No. I did not.

Fucking. Bowling.

I twisted my elbow bowling.

Now I'm getting shooting pains in my elbow. I can't support myself, so no weight lifting, no yoga, no frisbee or catch...my arm being immobile effectively nixed all of my favorite sports activities this week, and I have rarely been more frustrated with my body.

The upshot is that, while I haven't worked out much, my diet has sped along this week. Pesach forced me to cut out cookies, white bread, soda, etc, so I've eaten my weight in veggies. My cupcake cravings haven't subsided, but they're MUCH more manageable then they were at the beginning of the week, when I was headachy and grouchy.

I was surprised that I had such a visceral reaction to my lack of sweet stuff. I didn't think I was that sugar dependent. I went through a withdrawal period of a few days though, snapping and feeling ill, and being miserable. I'm torn between allowing myself a post Pesach celebratory cookie...and continuing to stay off the stuff. Because I'm still not sure I can stop at just one. I am still the girl who once ate an entire box of Thin Mints.

Right here and now, Jacky!

I had a fitnissy week (yes, I know it's not a word, just go with it), and it's inspired me to updates. Also, the only things that aren't sore today are my hands, so I might as well put them to work.

Wednesday, I went bowling...which I didn't think was giving me much of a workout, until I woke up with forearm pain - I DID do it for three hours straight...and I wasn't scarfing down bad bowling alley pizza.
Here's a question. If someone bowling next to you orders pizza, and leaves half of it on the table when the leave the lanes...is it totally gross to want to take it and eat it? I was watching. They didn't spit in it or anything. That pizza was perfectly good!! I'm sure W wouldn't have appreciated my pizza pilfering though, so I left it.

Thursday, yesterday, I went to the gym. W has been on me about getting back into weight lifting (I PICK THINGS UP AND PUT THEM DOWN!), and so I did a 5xx5 shoulder press at 55lbs, a 1x5 deadlift at 95, and worked on my squat form. I used the rowing machine to warm up. The rowing machine - is that hell on a track, or what? I was on that damned thing for ten minutes, and I thought I was going to die. Although I did stare at my legs for ten minutes, and that was nice, in a completely conceited way. Parts of me are quite tubby, but I've got great legs.
Anyway, after the gym, we picked up T and headed to Soldier's Delight for a 2.5 hike. If you've never hiked SD before, you should. The Serpentine trail is great, full of hills, and scenic. I like to imagine that I'm walking across America. I start in the tree heavy south east, near the mountains. I move downward, onto the prairie, toward the plains, and end up back again in Northern California.

Full disclosure here. What I really do is pretend I'm Jack Sawyer, walking across America, going to retrieve the Talisman. I'll give you a minute to google that.

I was so exhausted by my "day of health", that I skipped yoga, but I DID go this morning. Lots of stretching sore muscles. An ex-boyfriend told me once that if you continue to use your muscles while they're hurting, they'll hurt less. I did not find this to be entirely inaccurate, actually. I was pleasantly surprised. I thought that was a load of crap, but apparently not.

I'm down seven lbs since the last time I posted, which was a few months ago. That's not SO bad, but I could have done better. On the weeks when I lose, I stand on the scale and think "I CANNOT keep up with this level of activity". I do, though. I'm outside a lot more, and I'm starting to feel the benefits. I can run up a hill without panting. I can play frisbee for an hour without wishing for death. When my muscles hurt, I think "Man, I didn't know I had muscles there! I wonder what they're called! That's neat!" (and then I take an aspirin).

I could get used to this. I mean, I'd better get used to this, but...it's starting to not be so hard.

K


PS - If you have five minutes, please read this blog post. Even if you don't read mine, read this one. It's important.

Verily, I have a new reader

It works, D!

Also, I should update.

I'm down five lbs since the new year!! And, although my cravings for chicken breast (of all things, don't as me why) have not subsided, my overall meatlessness is still working for me.

I'm starting the couch25k (again) tomorrow, and am about to do Day 2 of the 100 push up challenge. Oh, the things I get talked into.


Happy New Year!

Vegewhatnow?

I'm never going to be the scotch drinking, leather jacket wearing, Shelley quoting, clove smoking badass that I always thought I'd become.

I see that now.

It's sad, this parting of ways between who I've become, and who I always thought I'd kick my own ass into being.

Instead, I'm a teetotaling, yoga doing, non-smoking vegetarian.

Who can quote Shelley on a good day.

And I'm fine with that, I guess. I mean, I'm pretty thrilled with myself and all...

But, still.

What the fuck?

Okay, That's a lie.

When I said that there was nothing new to report, and then made a lame joke about yoga. that was a lie.
It's not that there haven't been things to report. It's just that the reports aren't great. Ever since September, I've been stuck in this weepy and lazy rut. One day, I'll write a post that doesn't mention my grandmother. But I cannot express how much her passing knocked me down. Knocked all my family down. And we've never been the "bond together against sadness" type.

What I should remember is that there have been good things. The 5k was good for my family. I saw a naked man in the park (it wasn't good, but it's a great story...and his running shoes were enviable). Friends had babies. Not that I've seen them, I'm a bit of a recluse, and shy around babies, but still - new life exists. One of my dearest friends got married. Another had dinner with me last week, and sounded more sure of himself then I've seen in a while. I'm preparing my first Thanksgiving meal this year, and I'm writing again, too.

There are GOOD things here. Solid things, foundational things.

Patanjali said "“Peace can be reached through meditation on the knowledge which dreams give. Peace can also be reached through concentration upon that which is dearest to the heart.”

Now, I'm not much for meditation, I'm too fidgety. But the last two months have given me a clear picture of what is dearest to my heart. I think that in these next two months, I'll work on concentrating. Even if it doesn't work out, it'll be more productive than Portal.

Namaste, hon

Nothing much to report. Race went fine, foot is still on the mend. taken up yoga.
I actually freaking love it, but...trendy hobbies are expensive. I can't wait til curling comes into vogue and then prices at the studio drop.

Although I've always wanted to try curling too, so I guess I'll be bummed about that when it happens.

I keep hearing my grandmother's voice in my head during my classes, poking fun at me. It's hard to hear, because I still miss her, but in my head, she's still funny.

So that's a plus.

How I'm going to break my hand at the end of the month.

This blog exists for someone who never even read it. I love my grandmother, but watching her try to navigate the internet was laughable. Our computer time was filled with such gems as "Can you write me step by step instructions on how to work my Ipod?" "But I don't want to download Itunes". "Do you play Farkle?" "Will this give me a virus?" "Will this give me a virus?" "Will THIS give me a virus?". Truthfully, I never showed it to her because I didn't want to have a ten minute conversation on what a blog was, why I have one, and how it won't give my computer a virus. And also, if she read it, I'd have to tone down my use of the word fuck.

But all of the losing weight I'm doing, it was for her. She was diagnosed with cancer in June, had some operations, got some things taken out of her, went through chemo, lost her hair, lost her immune system, got an infection of some sort, and died two weeks ago.

I'll be honest here, I didn't take her cancer seriously enough. We were getting excellent feedback from the doctors, we were reading all about breast cancer, and her prognosis was great. Breast cancer has such a high survival rate. We all figured that she'd get over it, we'd rejoice, and life would go back to being pretty normal. And I guess all that crap about breast cancer being so beatable I can't really find fault with that either. It wasn't the cancer that killed, her, it was the fucking (sorry MM) chemotherapy. But that doesn't stop me from wanting to pull down all of those fucking "pink ribbon for cancer awareness" displays from the shelves every time I see them. And I do fucking see them. It's breast cancer month, didn't you know? They're fucking everywhere.

If I sound angry, it's because I am. I've graduated to the next step in the grief cycle, I guess, because i walk around all day, livid. I'm mad at myself for not being as good a granddaughter as I could be, for not getting married and having kids so she could see them, for not being more involved in her treatment. It scared me, seeing her go through that. And I took the pussy way out and didn't see her as often because I really believed that she would get better. I'm mad at her doctors for not treating her any other way, and I'm mad at her for getting sick. I had a five minute yelling match (one sided) with her in my head yesterday, I was so angry that she's gone. And then I spent the rest of the day feeling guilty.

You know what's not comforting me? People saying things like "She's looking down on you", "She'll watch over you". I would personally like to think that if there is a Heaven, she's got better things to do than watch me. I don't want my grandmother to be a ghost, or someone who can't move on. If there's anywhere else to go from here, I hope she's kicking up her heels and doing whatever the hell she wants. And why would she want to watch me when she's got crosswords and hottubs, and every dog we've ever had that's passed away, and no diabetes, and no cancer. I just can't hear that any more, I'm sorry.

I went to the gym the other day...this IS a weight loss blog after all...and I got through my workout, after which I burst into tears. No, that's not even true. My favorite bike was being cleaned and I couldn't use it, and THEN I burst into tears. And again, after. Because I'm turning my whole life around and she'll never know. She and I were so bad about losing weight together. We went to Weight Watchers once, and got milkshakes after. Apparently that's pretty common. We'd walk the track on Sunday mornings and get breakfast after that, too. And then we'd wonder why the scale was moving in the opposite direction. We had a great time, though, we really did.

My family is doing this walk for cancer at the end of the month. I'll break my hand if I don't get over my desire to punch people in pink. And I don't think I will get over it by then. I don't think losing something you get over, it's just something you adapt to. And that fucking sucks.

Fuck.

Sorry, Mom Mom.

I miss Robert Stack

Whenever I think about writing another post, I hear Robert Stack in my head. He's very serious, and he's o so dapper, and that one little word just repeats and repeats.

Update.


There's a lot of good news on this end. I've signed up for a 5k. My feet have stopped hurting. I'm starting to...dare I say it...enjoy biking. Don't tell anyone. And I'm continuing to lose weight. My personal goal for this week is to bike 40 miles, which is actually doable, because if I get on the stationary bike (bike actual never goes that far, mainly because of the frakking heat. I can't wait until Fall because there are some most excellent paths here), I'm generally on for 10 miles or more. If I can do 40, then next week, I'll up it.

I remember a time when Billy Blanks and I were like two peas in a pod. That is, if one of the peas was short and fat, and the other had a mouth on 'im like freaking Jaws. I tae-boed my little ass off. Okay, I skipped the cool-down, and I might have used the "Hey, I worked out today, so gimme some Ben and Jerrys" line a little too often. My relationship with Billy, and Gillian, Jack Lalaine (yeah, like you haven't juiced) and that P90x guy have all been very one sided. Much like my relationship to Robert Stack, actually.

A couple of months ago, I joined a site called Daily Mile. It's basically facetwitter for the athletically inclined. And the wanna-bes. And the "like me's". And this site is amazing. I'm tracking my workouts, and five minutes later, I get all kinds of feedback from people all over the country. If I don't post a workout for a few days, I get asked about it. Occasionally, well intentioned flack about it, too. I have a friend from Boston who has cycled over 150 miles this last week, and I'm jacked up for him, too. I'm sure there are a million sites like this online, (not to mention Weight Watchers) sites that thrive on peer feedback. But this is mine, and for the first time in months, I'm starting to feel really good about the changes I'm making. I'm not begrudging my trips to the gym anymore (especially during sharkweek!), and I'm really happy about that. I feel kind of invincible, and it's a groovy thing. The fact that it's all online makes it really easy, too. I know this update (Robert!) sounds a bit like a commercial, but I am no paid shill, ladies and gents. I'm just...happy with myself. I'm really coming along.

Attack of the Killer Tomatoes.

Tonight I'm making having some friends over and making spaghetti. It's gross outside, over 100 degrees, but my air conditioner works just fine. I've got some awesome garlic bread, whole wheat noodles, and I just chopped up a ton of veggies for a homemade sauce. What I'm really excited about, is that the basil, tomatoes, Swiss chard, and peppers all came from either my or my friend's garden. I can't get over how sweet the Roma tomatoes I have taste, and the plant is as tall as I am. Hopefully I'll have enough to can, too.

As I mentioned in my last post, I had to stop running, because of my feet. My feet are still killing me, a month later. I really hope I won't have to end up getting a Cortisone shot, or something because I know that once my feet stop hurting, I'll run the risk or re injuring myself by overdoing it. I can report though, that swimming has been going better, and I've been burning miles on the stationary bike as well. I'm down a few pounds since last month, too. In a fit of early morning Math, my brother calculated that 77 times around our parent's pool equaled one mile, and there were a few days when I was jogging around, and around in circles like the world's wettest Nascar driver.

I'm planning on running a 5k in late October, if my heels are up to it, and I'm thinking that all the bike work I'm putting is will do wonders for my endurance. I can't wait for it to cool off, though, so I can grab an actual bike and go adventuring.

That is all the news my fried brain can remember. It's been a quiet month.
Cheers to Dan Bolton who is chugging away on his own projects - If I could be half as productive as you are in a weekend, I'd be thrilled.

I'm bad at this

Plus, I have plantar facsitis. So I can't run for a while. I haven't been able to come up with any decent puns describing my foot woes and I feel like I might be losing my touch. Also, I've decided to take up swimming and biking, to give my feet a workout. Does anyone else think this might not end well?

Glub, glub, glub.



That little guy thirty seconds in, clinging for dear life? That'll be me.

I worked out today

And to celebrate, here's a spider doing a happy dance.

The Sympathy Belly

Know what makes getting turned down from yet another job better?
Candy Bars.

Unfortunately, I don't have any change to hit up the vending machine, so my candy bender is not to be.

I'm trying to set up a couple of internships this summer (instead of working), at different places around town. I'm very interested in cooking and improving my skills, and I would love to be able to head to a confectionery, or coffee shop, or home made wine shop (ahem) once a week to learn whatever there is to learn. And to take back what I learned and make my friends fat.

Which, by the way, is the inspiration for today's entry title. My boyfriend, W, informed me yesterday that he needed to go back to the gym because he was growing a "sympathy belly". For me. Because he is sympathetic to my waistline.

I don't WANT him to be sympathetic to my waistline! I'm not knocked up! My waistline is a pre-existing condition, not an unfortunate car accident.

I laughed at the time (and I'm kind of chuckling now), but REALLY? And the worst part about it is that when he takes his flab off, it's going to take him about three seconds and three sit ups to do it.

Today I'm going to the track and running, if the weather holds. If not, I'll be spending the night stewing about W's sorry assed Buddha belly. But I'll do it with a salad.

Get Back To Where You Once Belonged

Peeps, I have been using Spring as a full proof excuse to not do a damned thing. My last day of spring break is today, and I'm sorry to report (but report I shall, because this partly about accountability) that I have not been to the gym in two weeks. Couple that with a Dr. Who premiere celebration, assorted Spring holidays, countless ball games (complete with beer!) and last night's time traveling trip back to 2005 (A reunion of sorts, most of which taking place in a diner), and I've managed to put a couple pounds back on the scale (Yes, W. Just a couple). I gotta get back to it, because I feel like a sack of potatoes.
Time to set some new goals.

Goal 1 - Post progress, or lack there of, every other day.
I know this'll make my blog pop on your feed more, folks, but I was serious when I said that this was for accountability.

Goal 2 - Get back to the damned gym (or the track, the baseball diamond, SOMEWHERE) every other day. No more "well, I ran around with the kids all day so I don't need to work out". That's just bullshit.

Goal 3 - Get back to eating better. My Easter candy is all gone, I'm about to go back to work, and there are no parties in my future.

This is my week, kids. I can feel it. And yes, I know the week is half over. Baby steps.

In other news, jump over to http://mdhomevintner.blogspot.com/, where my industrious friend is making delicious sounding things. (Very proud of you, D!)

Keep on rocking me, baby.