Smug Will Always Get'cha!

I had the day off today and chose to open it with a trip to the pool, since I'm still on restriction from walking and it was too hot to bike.

There was a lady at the far end of the pool when I jumped in and I paid her no attention as I got my goggles in place and did my first few warm-up laps.

Very quickly I noticed that I was faster than this woman! Me! Faster than someone else in the pool. That little smug feeling began to rise in my chest.

That is, until I got to the end of a length and I stood up to adjust my goggles and noticed ...

That she was clearly older than me. And that she didn't have full range of motion in her left arm. Yup, that's right. She was swimming with a damaged wing.

Smug collapsed into embarrassment. I know in my heart of hearts with two good limbs she'd have kicked my ass. Even at 65-ish years old.

Put back in my place, I kept wracking up laps. And that woman stuck right with me. I began to get tired and she kept going. "Well," I thought, "I'll be damned if I'll let her outlast me." So I kept going. At my length 72, she finally got out of the pool ... and I thought I was in the clear to finish my 100 lengths in peace.

That's when the old man climbed in the pool and wanted to race.

It took me until lap 103 to get him to back off.

Man! Who knew that a) the YMCA is crawling with senior citizens during the morning hours and b) they all seem to have a freaking competitive streak?

Just to prove a point, I swam to 125 lengths ... which is 25 farther than I've gone before.

Take that, blue hairs!

Cortisone: Activate!

My sports med follow-up appointment yielded the desired result:

A lovely cortisone injection!

Well, I think I obtained three separate pokes. ("Oh my," doc says as she's poking around on my hip. "Those tendons are REALLY tight!" No shit, Sherlock.) I walked out of there at 10:30 a.m. on Cloud No. Nine!

She told me to lay low tonight. Don't run for a few days. Walk a little, run a little, get back up to speed slowly. Swim all I want. Bike all I want. (Yippee. Bleah.)

So all day I waited for the magic to happen. For the pain to instantly disappear. For everything to feel good as new in the blink of an eye.

Still hasn't happened. In fact, right now my hip hurts more than it did before the shot. (Laugh all  you want. It's funny. Freaking hysterical.) I'm hoping that it's just the injection site that's sore from the needle. And that tomorrow I'll spring out of bed a new woman with slippery, slide-y tendons and teeny, tiny bursa.

But I'm not holding my breath. If there's a way for this to not work, I'll find it.

(And no offense to those of you that read this who are connected to the medical industry. But this is why I hate going to the doctor. I always end up feeling like I'm whining and a total wuss. I don't think I am. I mean, I hardly complained at all before my hysterectomy and the disaster they found inside me once they got there made everyone wonder how the hell I hadn't complained more earlier, but ...)

On the bright side, my once high-range-of-normal, teetering-on-we-need-to-keep-an-eye-on-this blood pressure clocked in at a Smurfy 106/60. Hot damn.

 

Slowing Down = Eating Less

I'm forever trying to find ways to trick myself into eating less. One of the ways I do this is to find foods that take longer to eat.

Simple swaps. Here's what I mean:

Take a 100-140 calorie yogurt. It takes me less than two minutes to eat and I don't chew anything. So at the end of the whole deal, I'm left feeling like I didn't really eat anything. For the same calories, I can eat a relatively big apple. Much more satisfying. Takes a lot longer.

Then there's the 230 calorie candy bar. Again, I can scarf that baby down in 60 seconds. A bowl of whole grain cereal with skim milk is roughly the same caloric intake and I have the process of getting the cereal out of the pantry, pouring it, putting it back, getting the milk out of the fridge, pouring it, grabbing a spoon, and finally sitting down to eat it.

Or, if I'm really dying for chocolate in the case above, I will buy a bag of M&Ms from the vending machine, take half out of the bag and eat them one at a time ... letting them melt on my tongue vs. chewing them. And then I try to bury the rest of the bag in my desk drawer to save for another day.

A cup or two of grapes? Oh yeah, I can suck those back in minutes. The same volume of cherries? Takes longer because I have to pluck off the stem and spit out the seed.

Chips or pretzels? Don't eat from the bag! Pour a serving into a measuring cup and put the big bag back in the pantry. Then sit down and enjoy the serving, eating one chip at a time.

A hunk of cheese or a piece of string cheese? The string cheese of course! I can peel off strings and nibble at them versus chomping down a hunk in a couple of bites.

Gotta eat candy? I choose Dots sometimes just because they take a long time to chew.

Gotta have snackies? Eat a baby carrot for each Cheez-It. And take a swig of water every few sets. You fill up faster and won't eat as much of the delicious but crappy stuff.

Tacos calling your name? Only make one at a time (in a whole wheat tortilla, please). And don't eat it standing at the counter! It gives your stomach time to catch up with your head.

Do you have any tricks like this? Tell us!

Online Menus and Nutrition Guides

I simply LOVE online menus and nutrition guides.

I had to order lunch for a meeting today. It had to be delivered, which narrowed down the choices in my town. Pizza? Nope. Don't want that. Milio's? That will work.

Lunch for me is almost always a vegetarian affair. Milio's has a veggie sub, featuring avocado, cheese, tomato, lettuce, sprouts and mayo. And it clocks in at a whopping 600 calories. http://www.milios.com/nutrition/

But the best part of Milio's nutrition guide is that it allows you to customize your sandwich ... uncheck the mayo box and you're down to 400 calories. Uncheck the cheese or guac box, and you're down even more.

I love this because it let's you make informed choices.

And I find myself checking websites before I dine out. It helps me feel in control ... I almost always have my choices narrowed down before I get to the restaurant and I find it easier to stick to the plan. When I know  that the tower of nachos, though it sounds delicious, clocks in at 1500 calories and 100 grams of fat ... it seems ever so less appealing.

And occasionally a little repulsive. Which is good.

P.S. I kept the guac and cheese. But who needs mayo?

Declaring This Publicly

I am done eating for the night.

Why am I declaring this publicly? Because I have to.

You see, I have fallen into a very bad habit of snacking too much. Snacking too late. And I have to put a stop to it.

So tonight, I'm done.

I have eaten a decent dinner (taco-ish salad with leftover pinto beans, chicken, salsa and guac, plus assorted raw veg). I have eaten a handful of my beloved pretzels AND a good grab of reduced fat potato chips. And I have eaten some watermelon.

Really, that's enough. I'm done.

I'm going to lift some weights and read a book and try to not think about eating.

It's going to be a long night.

(Moral of the story? Sometimes we all need a little help on this journey. Talk to your spouse. Or your sister. Or the CC crew. We're here to support you if you feel the need to declare a goal publicly. Sometimes just having someone else knowing what's going on and giving you a little bit of "You can do it!" helps. )

Pretzel City!

Ladies and Gentlemen! Exciting news!

I know of a place where pretzels are as revered as I believe they should be. I stumbled upon it yesterday and can't quite believe my good fortune. (Regular CC readers know of my pretzel obsession ... those big, hard, sourdough babies make me so very happy!)

The place is Freeport, IL. And, it proudly proclaims itself "Pretzel City" on an enormous stone marker carved with a big, ol' pretzel when you come into town on Highway 20.

But wait. It gets better.

On my way to my destination, I had to pass the high school. Are you ready for this? The high school's mascot is ... wait for it ...

A Pretzel!!!!

That's right. They're called The Freeport Pretzels!

A quick web search has given me this information:

The town is named thusly because of its German heritage. Calista Flockhart of Allie McBeal fame is a proud Pretzel alum. And Abraham Lincoln and Stephen Douglas had a campaign-deciding debate there.

But most importantly, there is a Pretzel City Festival every year. And during that festival, there's a 5K race. And with that race comes a T-shirt!

I'm so there next June! Are you joining me?

Don't Get Too Hungry

I goofed up today.

After an early morning run, I quickly showered and headed to my Goddaughter's tennis invitational. I ate my normal breakfast, packed an apple and bottle of water, assuming I'd be there a while.

Two matches and 4.5 hours later, it was nearly 2 p.m. and I was starving. I inhaled the apple on the way home. It wasn't enough.

And, unfortunately, I had to hit the grocery store on the way home.

Did I make sure I grabbed something healthy while I was in there to eat on the way home? A string cheese? Another apple? Some carrots? No.

I bought a big bag of pretzels and and even bigger bag of reduced fat kettle cooked potato chips.

Whoops. Ate too many on the way home.

Don't get so hungry you make bad choices. Pack your own food if you're unsure where/when your next meal might be. Stop at the dang Subway and fill your belly with something decent so you don't go off the deep-end at the first grocery store/fast food restaurant/gas station you stumble on.

I know better. I didn't do better.

Tomorrow is another day.

Dear Project Runway Jackhole

(For those of you who don't watch it, here's an article describing it. http://theclicker.today.com/_news/2012/08/24/13458082-project-runway-designer-slams-plus-size-model-leaves-her-in-tears?lite. To Bravo/Andy Cohen, my apology for using your coined phrase on a Lifetime show.)

Dear Project Runway Jackhole,

The challenge was to design something for a "real" woman. The model you drew was a size 14. Size 14. As in the size of the average American woman.

But you'd have thought she had a hump back, second head and unicorn horn by your reaction.

You behaved shamefully and should be horrified by your treatment of her, but I know you're not.

Newsflash: She already knows she's bigger than your average model. She already knows it's hard to fit her body because she deals with it every time she goes to the store. She already knows there are assholes like you in the world that pass judgement on her and treat her as if she's positively repulsive.

You embarrassed this woman on national TV. You should be ashamed of yourself.

Every time you pulled out a belt and tried it on her, declaring, "It's way too small," you failed to notice the embarrassment and pain in her eyes.

Every time you lamented out loud, in front of her, about how impossible a challenge this was (in other words, how horrible she was), you didn't see her get that look of wishing the floor would swallow her whole, nor do you care that that's how she feels every single time she goes into a fitting room.

Every time you failed to notice how she felt, or THAT she felt, you reinforced all of the bullshit she carries around inside of her, making her feel like she's not worth anything.

And to top it all off, you gave her the quintessential fat girl dress. Tacky fabric, grandma sleeves, badly proportioned, ill-fitting crap.

Which proves to me you are not a talented designer. And it also proves that you are a horrendous human being.

Oh, and by the way, YOU ARE A PLUS-SIZED DUDE! I get the fact that your head is so far up your own ass to get the irony of this simple point.

The good news is that you made yourself look like a tool on national TV. Way to kick off your career, douche bag.

And, P.S. to TLC's "What Not to Wear" crew ... Call this woman. Get her on your show and help her feel beautiful.

Goggles!

Some days, it's the little things!

I finally bought a pair of swim goggles and I can't tell you how happy they make me. Mostly because my eyes aren't torched by the end of my swim from keeping them open underwater.

Well, also because now I almost feel like a real swimmer.

If I could just get rid of the grandma "slimming" suit and trade up for an actual Speedo or something, I'd be all set.

Oh, and a swim cap. All the cool old people in the pool wear a swim cap as they lap my slow ass.

It's All About Balance

Part of my rehab is working to make my hip muscles stronger. Three of the exercises to do this revolve around balance:

1. Do "freestanding" leg lifts to the front, back and side, not holding onto a wall or anything to keep you steady. 
2. Do essentially anything on one foot ... tie your shoes, curl your hair, brush your teeth. 
3. Walk back and forth, toe to heel on a 2x4 board on the ground. When (or for me, if...) you get good at this, close your eyes and try it. 

The whole process has me thinking a lot about balance in a bigger way.

Balance is important.

Enough work, and enough play.
Enough exercise, and enough rest.
Enough vegetables, and enough cupcakes.
Enough walking, and enough running.
Enough activity, and enough sleep.
Enough goal-setting, and enough goal-reaching.
Enough diligence, and enough reward.

If you've got any one of these things out of alignment, your not doing something that's sustainable for the long-term. And that's why people fail in this battle, I believe.

Anyone can go balls to the walls for 10 minutes. Or one week. Or one month. But if the changes you make to reach your goal ... whether that's losing 5 pounds or 50 ... are not something you can live with forever, they're not good changes. You're bound to fall back into bad habits.

So do me a favor. Tomorrow when you're brushing your teeth, stand on one foot the whole time to remind yourself of just how important balance is.

It's harder than you might think. But doable if you really want it.

This Looks Fun!

Check this out!

http://rockmanchallenge.org/Welcome.html.

What could be better? A super cool challenge, a great cause and food at the end!

Just wish I was going to be in town and knew how to paddle a canoe. Will one our CC friends try this and report back? 

What's Your Goal?

I need something to train for. A goal. I'm kicking around a couple of ideas, but thought it might be fun to see what YOU are planning ... and then maybe inviting myself along.

There's a beer run in Lake Mills in November that sounds good. And a bike ride covering Waukesha and Jefferson counties that starts in Dousman, I think. Or I believe there's a triathlon in Whitewater coming up, too.

Maybe your goal doesn't  have anything to do with an organized event ... but it's a personal one. Hint, putting it "in print" here might help you feel obligated to complete it. And that's good.

Chime in by hitting the "comments" button and share your goal.

Aim High

Had a great bike ride today with two of my favorite people ... my cousin and my brother-in-law.

Now, both are far more experienced cyclists than I am. They have fancier bikes, those cool shoes that clip into their pedals and have logged many, many more miles in many, many more situations: 100-mile trips for several days in a row, downhill racing in truly dangerous terrain ... you get the idea.

Today, however, they both agreed to an "all for one and one for all" approach to the Tour de Fort with me. We had 18-, 36- or 62-mile options, and since I had never gone much farther than 32 to 34-ish miles before, I cautiously agreed to the 36-miler.

And now I wish I had aimed higher.

We finished the 36 miles in about 2 hours and 45 minutes, and that included a 10-minute potty break in the middle. We covered a lot of ground, waved at a lot of nice people along the way, and I even got stung by a bee.

But in the end, I had a bit more in the tank and wish we had opted for the longer distance.

This is a theme I run across all the time. I almost never regret doing just a bit more or pushing myself just a little farther. But I almost always regret quitting early or taking it easy just because my head talks me into feeling "too tired" or "too winded" or whatever.

My body is capable.

Maybe, just maybe, I can convince one of my two riding partners to take another Sunday morning to get 60 miles in just so I can say I did it.

Nudity

OK, I'm not really going to talk about nudity. Just trying to get your attention.

But I am going to talk about feeling naked.

I convinced Jim to take a walk with me this morning. We did about three miles, then he turned toward home and I set out to hoof another two miles. As I was approaching the house, a neighbor cruised up beside me in his truck and slowed down to chat.

We exchanged pleasantries, I got the scoop on the blind date I set him up on a few weeks ago (he likes her!), and off he went.

I headed for home and all of a sudden, it dawned on me ...

"Hmmm. I just stood there and talked to my neighbor man in skin-tight workout clothes and didn't think twice about it."

You see, there was a time when I wouldn't have been caught dead in such a get-up in public. (And, I'm not talking about my bigger days ... I didn't own workout clothes then.) After I lost the weight, I was still self-conscious about anyone seeing me in my workout gear.

Since I was in the basement on the treadmill, no one really had the opportunity to see me. Once I moved outside, I was OK with cars driving past me on the road, but I never would have answered the door, for instance, in a high-tech, skin-tight, boob-flattening exer-outfit.

I even remember Jim needing me to see something outside one day, after a treadmill session, and I hopped on the four-wheeler without thinking to grab a Tshirt. A different neighbor was in his yard and I panicked. "What if he sees me?" I squealed, crossing my arms to hide myself. In typical Jim fashion, he replied, "So what if he does?"

This all brings me to yesterday. I weeded this stone path we have that leads to and surrounds a fire pit. It was nearly a 2-hour job in the sun. Bending over, ass in the air.

I wore a bandeau bikini top and a respectable (i.e. not string) bikini bottom.

In theory, the whole world could see me. They could also, in theory, see my top slide off at one point. (It was hot and I was sweaty.)

Luckily for me, I'm a quarter-mile from any actual eyeballs.

It's funny to me how not-a-big-deal being me in my own skin has become. It's not that I'm an exhibitionist or that I'm not a little insecure about the imperfections.

But they don't bother me like they used to. Hike the top back up and move on.

Maybe being naked is more about peeling off the layers of fear than the actual clothing.

And covering yourself in layers of confidence instead.

Words to Live By

Talking with someone who's beginning this journey yesterday and I was reminded of the beginning of my own.

There was so much I wanted to tell her, to share with her, to advise her on. And then I realized that  it sort of doesn't matter what I say. It matters what she says. To herself. To make her process work for her.

I don't know for sure, but I assume we all develop a few "mantras" that we replay over and over again in our heads to keep us on the right path. These are mine:

1. Do the right things often enough and good things happen.
2. It's simple math. If you eat fewer calories than you burn off, you lose weight. Period.
3. Your body is capable of doing much more than your mind thinks it can.
4. Your brain is the most difficult muscle to train.
5. This is a change you're making to make your life better. This is not a quick fix. It took a while to get this way and it will take a while to get to where you want to be.
6. It's a choice you have to make every day.
7. Nothing tastes as good as being healthier will feel.
8. I am worth it.
9. The workout IS the reward ... it's the gift you give to yourself.
10. If I can get downstairs (or outside) to START the workout, the rest of it is easy.
11. Yeah, I'm hungry. But I'm not going to die. I ate enough to nourish my body properly.
12. This isn't forever. I am going to have to follow the plan religiously for a while ... until I get where I need to be.
13. Yes, this all feels weird and scary right now. But soon the good things I'm doing will become habits and they will pay off. I just have to be patient.
14. Do the right things often enough and good things happen.
15. I can go a little farther.
16. I am worth it.
17. I want to be healthy
18. Do the right things often enough and good things happen.

What do you say to yourself? (Amber, "I'm sexy and I know it" totally counts.)

Workout Math

If you know me, you know math isn't my strong suit. I mean, I can figure out 20% off in my head at the mall, or get close enough, and I rarely overdraw my checking account, but I've also taken the "Finance for Non-Financial Managers" class twice. And should really take it again.

As I was counting laps in the pool today, it occurred to me that I spend a great deal of my workout time working the numbers.

Whether I'm on the treadmill, in a swim lane, on my bike, I'm forever doing a little figuring in my head.

Am I the only one?

Example: The plan is to run 5 miles. At a mile in, I think, "I'm 20% done." Then at the next mile, I think, "40% complete ... close to 50%. Wow. Essentially halfway there." By the next mile, I'm at 60% and that makes it seem like there's very little left to go.

I did it tonight in my swim. My intent was to go 100 lengths of the pool. Or 50 laps. I chose to count lengths because I could rack a bunch of them up faster. And once I'm 20 in, it seems like there's not too far to go.

In my head, I'm thinking, "I'm 10% done, 20%, a quarter done!"

Then, "A third of the way through and only 17 lengths to be halfway there! Oh, and 17 is only half as far as I've already been." (Are you following this?)

When I hit 60 lengths, I know there's only 28 more to get to a full mile. And I know that once I'm at 88, getting to 100 is only 12 more and 12 will seem easy knowing I already have 7 times that much completed.

Or, on my bike, the second "half" of my intended distance feels like downhill ... inherently easier ... than the first half.

The benefit of this, for me, is that all the calculating takes up time and keeps my brain busy. The busier my brain is, the less I pay attention to the work I'm doing and that makes the workout pass by faster.

It also lets me set and achieve goals. In my head, I know that if I can get to X number or X% done, I can finish. I can go the rest of the way. Today, every 10 lengths gave me a feeling of accomplishment. That feeling gave me the push to finish.

Is it any surprise to you that I lose count of the lengths every once in a while?

Another Thing I'm Slow At

I knew I was a slow runner. Usain Bolt has nothing to worry about from this side of the fence.

I have come to realize that I'm also a slow bike rider. I got passed like I was standing still on Sunday while on a deserted country road by a dude in full cycling get-up. He was long and lean and whooshed up beside me so quickly I didn't hear him coming. (Breathing heavy makes a lot of noise, you know.) And before I could choke out a response to his "Hey" greeting, he was gone, disappearing into the horizon in front of me.

And today, I learned that I'm also a slow swimmer.

Oy vey.

She arrived at the pool when I had about 20 lengths in. I planned to do 50 and was just hitting my stride. I took one look at her and thought to myself smugly, "Bet she wishes she could swim like me. Here I am, doing lap after lap of a very nice freestyle. Ain't I something?"

She was a big girl. Apple shaped. She promptly jumped in and kicked my ass.

Lapped me. More than once. Truthfully, she did 4 laps for every 3 of mine. Her breast stroke was faster than my freestyle. So was her back stroke. So was any and all other strokes she might have used.

I couldn't tell what she was doing. I was too busy trying to keep up. And failing.

She didn't know it, but she made my workout a lot better. I did 60 lengths. Faster than I would have without her there.

Someday I'll find an exercise I like and am good at. Until then, I'll keep plodding along.

I might not come in first, but I'll outlast you!

I'll Have What She's Having!

It was a rough start to the week here at Chez CC. I woke up Monday morning to a dog, running partner, general companion whose back-end was non-functioning.

As in ... my dog Blue couldn't walk.

Her hindquarters were completely "dead." She couldn't get up. She couldn't stand if I helped her up.

Her hips had clearly given out and it made for a horrible morning for all involved.

Long story short, my husband and I made a torturous trip to the vet to put her down.

And then, in the examination room, she stood up. Wobbly and hurting, but she stood up, right as the vet walked in, syringe at the ready.

Never underestimate spunk and determination.

New medicine in hand and miracle in pondering, we headed home. And the short burst of standing-up energy disappeared again. She was back to unable to move.

Until 2 a.m. this morning, that is. It was then that she woke me up to go outside. Standing up, in my bedroom. She was also ready to walk/run with me this morning, meeting me at the back door, tail wagging. I explained it to her, though I'm not sure she understood.

"Blue, you can't go with me. At least not for a while. Don't you remember yesterday when you couldn't stand up? Your hips are bad. Really bad. You have to take some time off."

So, I left her at home. And could hear her barking in protest for more than a quarter mile.

Tonight, she's acting like her old self. In fact, she doesn't seem remotely bothered by the wringer she put us through.

I don't know what's in that new pain med, but I'm considering swallowing a couple myself.

Carbs and Sugar

Toying with the idea of severely cutting back on carbs and sugar. And artificial sweetener.

But I don't have the guts to actually do it.

While I was thinking about it today, I made spaghetti and garlic bread (whole wheat on both counts) for dinner tonight.

Followed by chocolate for dessert.

Preceded by a ton of Cherry Coke Zero.

Maybe tomorrow is the right day to start.

Farmer's Market Haul

Saturday was Farmer's Market Day. Here's what we picked up:

1. $1 bunch of cauliflower
2. $1 bunch of lovely basil
3. 1 bag white cheddar cheese curds
4. 1 pint multicolor cherry tomatoes (the purple ones are my favorite!)
5. 1 pint lemon cucumbers
6. 5 sunflowers
7. 1 bunch green onions
8. 1 bag fresh donuts
9. 1 whole wheat French baguette
10. $1 bag of popcorn
11. Sweet corn

The popcorn, donuts and sunflowers were for my niece. Jim and I ate the cheese (all of it) yesterday. And most of the donuts, if I'm being truthful. We scarfed down the sweet corn for lunch today.

The rest is waiting for deliciousness making during the week. If you haven't been to the Beloit Farmer's Market, I recommend it.

And if you could teach me to like beets or what to do with an eggplant, I'd appreciate it. They are so very pretty ... it's hard to not bring them home.

Big Al's Rubdown Service

Is it wrong to spend my Thursday afternoon with a dude named Al who spent 30 minutes rubbing my thigh? 

I hope not. 

Because once he was done with my thigh, he moved up to my hip. With a little help from some lubricating gel and an electrical device, I had quite an experience. 

My husband doesn't seem concerned. 

Physical therapy continues. My therapist, I like to think of him as Big Al, didn't walk through more exercises this week. He seemed satisfied with my status report and asked me to perform a couple of moves to ensure my form was right. 

Then he gave me the rub down. 

The first 15 minutes (I'm sure it wasn't that long, but it seemed like it) was spent on kneading my IT band. Your IT band runs from the outside of your knee to the outside of your thigh. He went up and down dozens of times, leaving me with a nice, red line. But it felt good. 

Then he whipped out an ultrasound machine, lubed up my hip, and began making small circles with a flat-nosed, pistol-shaped thing. I felt heat inside, but not hot outside. It's radio waves, I guess, whose pulsation increases blood flow and loosens tissues, ultimately decreasing inflammation.

It made the whole thing feel oddly tingly. 

My hip, that is. 

And don't get me started on the calf and foot rub-down I received as part of my pedi on Friday afternoon. 

Maybe this injury thing isn't so bad after all? 

P.S. I'm pretty sure I could carry "Big Al" for a quarter-mile if I had to. But I wanted your imagination to make him a bit brawnier. 

   

Benefit of Being Thinner #32

This might be titled wrong. I'm not sure if this is a benefit of being thinner ... or a benefit of being healthier or a benefit of being stronger.

In any case, here's the feeling I'm trying to describe.

Today I stumbled across an article called, "The 10 Toughest Endurance Challenges (You Can Actually Do)" on Livestrong.com

It listed feats of endurance like the Tough Mudder (where you run through fire and electrically charged wires), the Ragnar Relay (two vans, 12 racers, and 36 hours of running), the Goofy Challenge (a half marathon on Saturday followed by a full marathon on Sunday).

Most of them sounded sort of impossible to me. Or just uninteresting. As in I have no desire to have some Special Ops dude yell at me for 12 hours as I lug bricks around in a backpack and carry telephone poles, for instance.

But when I came across the IronMan 70.3, I thought, "This is possible."

It's a 1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike ride and half marathon, 13.1 miles.

Now, I know I'm feeling all heady after my 1-mile swim in the pool yesterday. And I realize a swim in a lake is an entirely different thing. But I am pretty sure I CAN do it. Following that with a 56-mile bike ride seems sort of not that hard. I haven't actually ridden 56 miles before of course, but I know I could if someone had a gun to my head.

Then there's a half marathon. I know I'm not ready for that now, but after a year of training, I think it's possible. I mean, I have done it before. I could always walk.

What a head trip.

The me of three years ago couldn't have begun to wrap my head around that. Wouldn't have even considered such a thing.

I love that this me not only thinks about it, but thinks it's really doable.

It's a fantastically fun thought to carry around in my head. And one that will help me get myself out of bed tomorrow morning for that walk at 5:30 a.m.

Find the Groooooooove!

Today was a swim day for me. As you already know, I'm trying to get cardio activity that's not running/walking as my hip continues to heal. That means two days a week at the Y's pool.

And, I kind of hate it.

I hate having to go to the basement. I hate the dampness in the air. I hate the smell. I hate the locker room. I hate having to  walk across the wet floor in my bare feet because all I can think of is fungus.

And I really hate starting. That first "get wet" moment when the water is cold and I have all those laps ahead of me just sucks.

I imagine these feelings are the same ones that may prevent you from doing whatever exercise you know you should be doing, but aren't. Rest assured, you're not alone.

But here's the secret.

Starting is the worst part. If you can get past that 10 seconds, you're more than halfway done.

(You've heard me say it before here: The Hardest Part of the Workout.)

The next hardest part is the beginning. For me, it's the first 10 or 20 laps in the pool. They're the ones where I think I'm tired ... too tired to go too far. My brain is trying to talk my body out of completing the job I've set out to do.

What I've learned is that if you just stick with it long enough, your body will settle in. Your body will find a groove where your breathing evens out and your head stops thinking about each step/stroke/pedal revolution. You find a spot where everything is working like it should be and while it's not easy, it's also not hard.

It's then that you get the best work done.

Tonight I swam a mile. Almost twice as far as I've gone before. And I did it because I found that zone.

Your body is capable. Your body is capable. Your body is capable.

Tell your brain to get out of the way.

OR Memories

First things first ...

Our tough little trainer made it through the appendectomy with flying colors. They were able to perform the surgery the laparoscopic way, which means little to no scarring, much to her dismay. (Showing off that badge of honor would be right up her alley.)

I mention this laparoscopic word (if it is a word, that is ... spell checker is having issues with it) because there was concern on the surgeon's part as to whether or not he'd be able to perform the surgery in that manner or if he'd have to go in the old fashioned way, with a big, ol' incision.

You see, laparoscopic means he has to poke three instruments inside that little belly all at once. And, because her particular 10-year-old belly is so tiny, he wasn't sure they'd fit and give him enough room to groove.

They did fit. He just made a few small holes and, as I said before, the scarring will be minimal.

But it made me think to a few years back and my own trip to the OR. And how that trip, I think, planted the seed for this journey.

(If I've told you this story before, I'm sorry.)

Rewind to 2006. I needed a hysterectomy. I'd never been sick before. Never spent an hour in the hospital. Never broken a bone. So the idea of going to that antiseptic place with scalpels and getting sliced open arrived with some fear.

However, the scariest things for me were 1) knowing that being fat brought complications with anesthesia and 2) wondering how they were going to slide my big ass from the operating table to the hospital bed once the surgery was over.

I was mortified at the thought of them having to call in extra help just to move me.  

Move me, they did. And my 6-week recovery included a lot of walking. I kicked around the idea of walking a half marathon then, but dismissed it because I wasn't brave enough yet to allow myself to believe it was possible.

But somewhere deep inside I knew it WAS possible.

That little seed was planted. It took a couple of years for it to grow, and take root. Do you have a little seed like that in your head?

Trust it. Trust you. Your body is so much stronger than you realize.


P. S. I'm also confident that should I ever have appendix issues, all three tools will easily fit into my belly. Whew. One less thing to worry about.

Tough Trainer

Our little trainer is having an emergency appendectomy tonight. I'm on my way there, so there won't be a real post. Please, if you don't mind, say a little prayer. She's tough. But she's still so little.

Thanks.

New Training, New Goal

When life gives you lemons ...

Enter a bike race. Or something like that.

Since my hip still hurts, since I'm still rehabbing, since I can't run more than a quarter mile at a time, and since I need something on the calendar to work toward, I have signed up for a 36-mile bike tour.

A tour isn't a race, from what I understand. But I could be wrong about that. It's just a long ride with plenty of rest and water stops. The distances for this event are 18, 36 and 63 miles.

I'm lucky in that I'll be joined by my cousin Mary Jo and my Trek brother-in-law. We've agreed to the 36-mile route. Should be a fun way to spend an early Sunday morning.

Now, I've never ridden 36 miles. The farthest I've ever gone is in the 26-mile range. So I set out this morning for a longer ride. And I think I put on about 30, though I haven't mapped it yet.

Thirty wasn't as tough as I expected and I'm already wondering if 63 would be possible. I know my two accomplices would be game ... and better prepared for it since they've both done it and more before.

But maybe I should take one sip at a time of that big, tall, cool glass of lemonade.

Just WALK!

Today I was reminded of the power of walking. 

I hit the pavement relatively early, after the first good night's sleep in a week. It was hot, muggy ... no air moving. The sun was already high in the sky. And because it was Saturday morning, there wasn't much in the way of traffic on the road. 

I walked. 

I walked for about 4 miles. Maybe a little more. 

And I did a little reminiscing about how this whole journey began. It began with walking. 

I've also decided walking is simply the most perfect exercise. (Are you surprised I said this?)

I know I've been waxing on (and on and on and on) about running for the past six months. And I do love it. But let's be real. Not everyone can or should run. It's hard on joints. You can't "start" with running. Injuries happen. 

But walking is something everyone can do. You can do it anywhere. You can do it when you're young or when you're old. You can go far or not. You can go fast or not. You can make it group activity or not. 

It's easy. There's also something so powerful about knowing you can get from here to there with just you. No coordination or practice or equipment needed. 

The hard part is getting out there and doing it. 

There are a million excuses not to. But none of them are valid. 

Just WALK. 

Triathlete Turned Trainer

My 10-year-old niece has a new project.

It's my 42-year-old sister. 

(Sorry ... I am probably not supposed to put my sister's age on the internet, am I?)

With her recent triathlon completed, my niece has a new interest in fitness. My sister is getting ready for a beach vacation. They're a match made in heaven. 

The first workout consisted of a few laps around the cul-de-sac and some stretching. Rumor has it that they held hands most of the way and chatted, too. 

Sounds like a great way to exercise, if you ask me. 

And my sister said that not only did make her want to hit it again the next night, it also made her want to drink more water and eat better the following day. Funny how doing something good for yourself, for your body, makes you want to continue to do it. It's a powerful incentive ... when you do something right, you want to keep it going, you know? 

And if there's a friend, husband, daughter-turned-coach involved, that's even more reason to stick with it. 

But just in case, I'm buying my niece a whistle. Never know when she might need it. 

Dog Years, Dysplasia and Me

I've been walking in the mornings for the past week. Gleefully, happily, enthusiastically walking. And I've had a partner.

Her name is Blue and we have actually been a team in the past. When we lived in town, she and I would hit the sidewalks periodically for two miles or so. 

In this most recent weight loss journey, Blue has been riding shotgun in her own way. In the early days, she'd accompany me on my trek to the basement as I hit the treadmill most mornings. She'd eventually get tired of waiting for me and go back upstairs, but she was there.

I did not take her with me when I started running because I couldn't have the diversion. I know she was disappointed.

Which has made this walking rehab kind of fun. We've discovered a new kinship, she and I. As it turns out, we've got a lot in common. 

Namely that we're both old bitches with hip trouble. 

This morning, I didn't take her with me. And I know she was disappointed. Probably a little ticked off. But yesterday I could tell that my second quarter-mile run was too much for her. She fell off pace to the end of the leash and was struggling to stay with me. 

So, perhaps selfishly, I left her inside today. And I did two slightly-more-than-quarter-mile bursts. 

Because fate always wins ... my hip is killing me tonight. I shouldn't have run so far. 

Had I listened to my dog, I wouldn't have.  

Morale of the story? Don't mess with a bitch with hip trouble.

The Difference Between Darkness and Dawn

Get ready for a big, ol' methaphor here! (It's been a while since I gave you one. Remember these? I'm Liking This Bike Thing and Bike Metaphors, The Sequel)

This morning my alarm went off at 5:03 a.m. My intent was to get my walk in by 6 a.m. so I could be showered and ready by 7 a.m. and to work by 7:30-ish. I rolled over, looked outside and saw ...

Darkness.

I looked at the clock again to verify that it was indeed 5 a.m. It was. And it was dark.

Too dark to walk outside in my neighborhood. (For the record, I'm not afraid of people. Most scary people are sleeping at 5 a.m. I'm a bit frightened of the wild animals that could be roaming around, though.)

So I got dressed, and plunked back in my bed for "just 15 more minutes" of shut eye.

And guess what?

By the time I got my 15 minutes, got up again, let the dog out, put my shoes on, grabbed my phone, and put a leash on Ms. Blue ...

The sun was up.

In fact, it was sort of way up above the horizon. In other words, I missed the sunrise I was shooting for.

Ready for the metaphor?

When you think it's dark, it's not. At least, it's not for long. And if you shut your eyes for even a second, you might miss the coming of the light. Because the light always comes.

The light always comes.

YOUR light, the best version of you, is inside. Let it shine.

Don't miss it.