I'm back to traveling ... for work this time. Got one day in at the office on Monday and then hit the road (or airspace?) for Florida for a tradeshow.
I'd ask you to feel sorry for me, but I know most of you are still digging out and that would just be rude. If it makes you feel any better, it's "cold" here, too. Haven't yet sat out by the pool.
I hobbled down to the fitness center yesterday morning and had to gasp for air.
My eyes were wowed with an amazing 12, count 'em, 12 amazing treadmills (TV screens that worked, enormous belts, fabulous bells and whistles ... and they ALL worked!), another dozen ellipticals, a few more traditional stair climbers, two different kinds of bikes and a full set of fancy weight equipment.
It was in a lovely, all-glass room, looking over the Florida vegetation and tennis courts and yet the temperature inside was still cool and lovely.
In other words, it was one of the best, if not THE best, hotel workout room I've ever had the pleasure to be in ...
... and there I was. Unable to effing use it.
OK, I can use the weights. And I tried like hell to use a treadmill and a bike.
But my knees still are not cooperating. That little boat accident might have been more than I thought it was going to be.
I am so tired of this. So discouraged. So mad. So defeated. So depressed. So pissed off. So confused. So afraid (that it's still somehow all in my head, like the sports med seems to be telling me). So OVER IT.
I'm trying hard to not let all those emotions sink me. I'm trying to make sure I don't give into them and let them derail good eating. But I can see the pounds sneaking back. I know they're there. It's so irritating and so scary at the same time.
Back to my regular doc on Monday, hoping she'll point me in a direction that will bring some resolution. It's been a good nine months. It's time.
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
No More Limits #6
I danced the Macarena with a group of people on a boat in a bikini.
I did a little meringue or cumbia (I can't keep them straight to know which is which) with a kid named Ernesto on a boat in a bikini.
I danced with my friend Gary on a boat in a bikini.
I wiped out completely while dancing with my friend Gary on a boat in a bikini.
In my mind's eye, there was a huge collective gasp. Followed by lots of laughing. The old me would a) never have been out there in the first place and b) died of embarrassment when everyone turned and looked.
The new me threw my hands in the air with a "Ta da!" and laughed.
I did a little meringue or cumbia (I can't keep them straight to know which is which) with a kid named Ernesto on a boat in a bikini.
I danced with my friend Gary on a boat in a bikini.
I wiped out completely while dancing with my friend Gary on a boat in a bikini.
In my mind's eye, there was a huge collective gasp. Followed by lots of laughing. The old me would a) never have been out there in the first place and b) died of embarrassment when everyone turned and looked.
The new me threw my hands in the air with a "Ta da!" and laughed.
Monday, February 25, 2013
Every Body's Beautiful
Remember how freaked out I was about wearing a bikini on vacation the first time? I had myself all worked up, psyched out.
There really was this fear in my brain that I had to get over. I had to stop being afraid that everyone would look at me and judge me. I had to stop being afraid of the outside world looking in and I had to stop being afraid to let the inside world look out.
Now that I have three vacations under my bikini bottoms, I have a new perspective.
This trip, I wore my cover-up once.
Once in five days.
Why? Because it's a drag to be all covered up on the beach. And so completely unnecessary.
It's the freaking beach. Everyone, and I mean everyone, wears a bikini. People of all shapes and sizes. People of all ages and ethnicities. People of all confidence and fitness levels.
75-year-old, gray-haired grandma from Canada? You betcha. 30-year-old, chain-smoking, kid-yelling, cornrowed mom from some Eastern European country? Yup. Saggy, baggy, dimply mom of teens? Sure!
By the end of the trip, the really large American women with those suits that have the big skirts attached were the ones that looked out of place to me. Not because they were large. But because they had so MUCH fabric on that it looked odd. Less fabric would have seemed so much more appropriate.
But here's the kicker. I didn't see one single perfect body.
Not one.
I saw a too-skinny Brazilian. I saw young and old moms with pooches and love handles. I saw sagging butts and even saggier boobs.
And they were all beautiful in their own way. They were more beautiful when they carried themselves with confidence and grace.
I think that's a nice lesson.
There really was this fear in my brain that I had to get over. I had to stop being afraid that everyone would look at me and judge me. I had to stop being afraid of the outside world looking in and I had to stop being afraid to let the inside world look out.
Now that I have three vacations under my bikini bottoms, I have a new perspective.
This trip, I wore my cover-up once.
Once in five days.
Why? Because it's a drag to be all covered up on the beach. And so completely unnecessary.
It's the freaking beach. Everyone, and I mean everyone, wears a bikini. People of all shapes and sizes. People of all ages and ethnicities. People of all confidence and fitness levels.
75-year-old, gray-haired grandma from Canada? You betcha. 30-year-old, chain-smoking, kid-yelling, cornrowed mom from some Eastern European country? Yup. Saggy, baggy, dimply mom of teens? Sure!
By the end of the trip, the really large American women with those suits that have the big skirts attached were the ones that looked out of place to me. Not because they were large. But because they had so MUCH fabric on that it looked odd. Less fabric would have seemed so much more appropriate.
But here's the kicker. I didn't see one single perfect body.
Not one.
I saw a too-skinny Brazilian. I saw young and old moms with pooches and love handles. I saw sagging butts and even saggier boobs.
And they were all beautiful in their own way. They were more beautiful when they carried themselves with confidence and grace.
I think that's a nice lesson.
Sunday, February 24, 2013
Burns, Boats and Buffets
Vacation is officially over.
(Hang on. I need to go sob in my pillow for a few minutes.)
Here's the recap:
Burns = too much sun. We arrived at the lovely Iberostar Dominicana in Punta Cana as the sun was setting on Sunday and hit the beach bright and early on Monday. I slathered up with SPF 12 and gave myself about 30 minutes in the bright light. I think that was about 15 minutes too much. I started peeling before we got on the plane to come home.
But it was still glorious. Someone said we were like solar-powered batteries in need of recharging and I can't agree more.
Boats = too much fun. There might have been a half-day excursion, billed primarily as a snorkeling trip. And, there might have been very little actual snorkeling. And there might have been a "booze cruise" feeling to the return trip to shore. I am sure there was dancing. I am sure there was a LOT of rum. I am sure I peed in the ocean at least twice. And I'm sure my new friends from Fort Atkinson, Green Bay, Chicago and Oconomowoc will unfortunately remember my glorious wipeout on the deck (more on that later).
But it was still a complete and total BLAST. (Calling all kids of the 80s ... remember that turn of phrase?) Just for the record, I did officially swim in a cage with sharks and stingrays.
Buffets ... too much ton-nage. (See what I did there? Tried to rhyme sun and fun, but switched it up on the end.) I ate. I ate a lot. I ate bread and potatoes and dessert. I have not been brave enough to step on the scale and, quite honestly, have no plan to in the near future.
But it was vacation. And I enjoyed it.
Now, back to reality. Yuck.
Hope you had a great week, too.
(Hang on. I need to go sob in my pillow for a few minutes.)
Here's the recap:
Burns = too much sun. We arrived at the lovely Iberostar Dominicana in Punta Cana as the sun was setting on Sunday and hit the beach bright and early on Monday. I slathered up with SPF 12 and gave myself about 30 minutes in the bright light. I think that was about 15 minutes too much. I started peeling before we got on the plane to come home.
But it was still glorious. Someone said we were like solar-powered batteries in need of recharging and I can't agree more.
Boats = too much fun. There might have been a half-day excursion, billed primarily as a snorkeling trip. And, there might have been very little actual snorkeling. And there might have been a "booze cruise" feeling to the return trip to shore. I am sure there was dancing. I am sure there was a LOT of rum. I am sure I peed in the ocean at least twice. And I'm sure my new friends from Fort Atkinson, Green Bay, Chicago and Oconomowoc will unfortunately remember my glorious wipeout on the deck (more on that later).
But it was still a complete and total BLAST. (Calling all kids of the 80s ... remember that turn of phrase?) Just for the record, I did officially swim in a cage with sharks and stingrays.
Buffets ... too much ton-nage. (See what I did there? Tried to rhyme sun and fun, but switched it up on the end.) I ate. I ate a lot. I ate bread and potatoes and dessert. I have not been brave enough to step on the scale and, quite honestly, have no plan to in the near future.
But it was vacation. And I enjoyed it.
Now, back to reality. Yuck.
Hope you had a great week, too.
Saturday, February 16, 2013
Rules for Vacation
Yep. I'm leaving on a jet plane early tomorrow for a short getaway to tropical climes. We're going with friends (CC reader Quigley and her hubs, in fact) and I'm soooo looking forward to getting my toes in the sand.
Since this is the first time we've traveled "Couples Style," I thought it was important to set some ground rules:
1. No swimming suit photos without permission of person in swimming suit
2. All unflattering photos of aforementioned swimming suits – even though taken with permission – are not publishable (Facebook, newspaper, family albums) and, should be deleted/discarded/burned to protect the innocent.
3. Smiles required. Patience required. Esso, esso, relax man!
4. No talk of how much weight we’re gaining by eating and drinking allowed DURING trip. (There’s time for that on the plane home.)
5. Bring your own sunscreen. That shit’s expensive in the hotel gift shop.
6. Rule #5 applies to Immodium AD, too.
7. Something “bad” is bound to happen. We’ll roll with it because it’s vacation and it will make a good story later.
8. Rules # 1 and #2 are VERY important.
9. You are free to notice the imperfections of your traveling companions’ bodies, but you are not allowed to speak of them once we’re back in the real world.
10. We earned this. And we should enjoy it.
I'll likely be without internet access, so I'll talk to you on the flip side.
Friday, February 15, 2013
He Said It
So I'm sitting in a conference room, facing a video camera ... again.
(We conduct a lot of meetings this way, since we have people working in several locations. As much as I hate it, it's better/more productive than an old fashioned conference call. When the video camera is on, you can be sure that no one is making faces when you talk or flipping you off. Most people probably don't worry about that sort of thing, but I do. Mostly because I often say things on conference calls that would invoke a couple of rolling eyeballs or one-finger salute.)
The old me would have tried to be as far away from the camera as possible. The farther away = the smaller you look or something like that. But the new me doesn't really think about it too much.
The meeting hasn't officially started and we're sort of chitchatting waiting for the last person to walk in.
He does. He sees me. And then he says,
"Hey. There you are. You look like the old Daisy."
What?
What does THAT mean? Yes, I'm close. I have no idea if the screen on the other end shows me in some distorted way. Hell, I don't even know if he was referring to my weight. Maybe he meant, "Oh, she's smiling. That reminds me of the old Daisy who used to smile before this place got so stressful and irritating."
But he said it. And I heard what I heard. And I am sure he was referring to my weight and thinks I am getting bigger.
And then I realize this:
It doesn't matter what he thinks or what he meant.
Boy, that's a hard habit to break.
(We conduct a lot of meetings this way, since we have people working in several locations. As much as I hate it, it's better/more productive than an old fashioned conference call. When the video camera is on, you can be sure that no one is making faces when you talk or flipping you off. Most people probably don't worry about that sort of thing, but I do. Mostly because I often say things on conference calls that would invoke a couple of rolling eyeballs or one-finger salute.)
The old me would have tried to be as far away from the camera as possible. The farther away = the smaller you look or something like that. But the new me doesn't really think about it too much.
The meeting hasn't officially started and we're sort of chitchatting waiting for the last person to walk in.
He does. He sees me. And then he says,
"Hey. There you are. You look like the old Daisy."
What?
What does THAT mean? Yes, I'm close. I have no idea if the screen on the other end shows me in some distorted way. Hell, I don't even know if he was referring to my weight. Maybe he meant, "Oh, she's smiling. That reminds me of the old Daisy who used to smile before this place got so stressful and irritating."
But he said it. And I heard what I heard. And I am sure he was referring to my weight and thinks I am getting bigger.
And then I realize this:
It doesn't matter what he thinks or what he meant.
Boy, that's a hard habit to break.
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Ash Wednesday
Day 1 of me trying to be better. I didn't hit a home run, but I didn't completely blow it either. Though there's still time before bed.
5:45 a.m.
50 minutes of interval biking
7:30 a.m.
Whole wheat sandwich thin with 2 Tbsp peanut butter
3/4 c blueberries
11 a.m.
6 gummy sour things ... Valentine's candy ... equivalent to 6 small gummy bears
11:45 a.m.
2c raw veg with 2 Tbsp dill dip
2 hard boiled egg whites
Handful of trail mix (honey nut cheerios, almonds and craisins)
3 p.m.
Mini Heath bar
5:15 p.m.
1-2 c celery sticks/cucumber slices with dill dip (until it ran out), then hummus
Hunk o'cheese
Big handful of pretzels
7 p.m
Communion wafer and wine
7:45 p.m.
2c squash soup
6 or 7 baby carrots
10 potato chips
5:45 a.m.
50 minutes of interval biking
7:30 a.m.
Whole wheat sandwich thin with 2 Tbsp peanut butter
3/4 c blueberries
11 a.m.
6 gummy sour things ... Valentine's candy ... equivalent to 6 small gummy bears
11:45 a.m.
2c raw veg with 2 Tbsp dill dip
2 hard boiled egg whites
Handful of trail mix (honey nut cheerios, almonds and craisins)
3 p.m.
Mini Heath bar
5:15 p.m.
1-2 c celery sticks/cucumber slices with dill dip (until it ran out), then hummus
Hunk o'cheese
Big handful of pretzels
7 p.m
Communion wafer and wine
7:45 p.m.
2c squash soup
6 or 7 baby carrots
10 potato chips
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Really Fat Tuesday
At the suggestion of dear HR Girl, here comes two "day in the life" posts. (Hmmmm. Channeling Mrs. Kohls, methinks.) My goal is to show you the difference between a free eating day and an on-program eating day. Compare and contrast the two days.
Fat Tuesday
5:45 a.m.
2.5 miles on treadmill at 4.0 pace
7:15 a.m.
-Whole wheat sandwich thin with 2Tbsp peanut butter
-1/2 to3/4c fresh blueberries
-1 can Cherry Coke Zero
7:45 a.m.
-Two crackers, each with a smear of crab/cream cheese dip
12 noon
-Jambalaya that included andouille sausage, chicken, shrimp, tomatoes and rice. (The one I made had brown Minute Rice, the one Jeff made had much prettier long grain white rice.) I'd say 2 cups total.
-Two more crackers with crab dip
-Handful of puppy chow AND
-2" slice of delicious king cake AND
-2" square brownie AND
-bite size piece of something yummy with frosting (pumpkin maybe?)
-1 can Diet Coke
Damn the potluck. Especially the one where everyone brings delicious desserts.
3:30 p.m.
-Cupcake (I can't believe I'm admitting this right now.)
6 p.m.
-Leftover jumbalaya, 1.5 cups
-Celery sticks and cucumber slices with dill dip made with light sour cream
-4 pretzels
7:30 p.m.
20 minutes of weight lifting (I'm writing this in there as if it's already happened so that I have to go do it or be a liar.)
Fat Tuesday
5:45 a.m.
2.5 miles on treadmill at 4.0 pace
7:15 a.m.
-Whole wheat sandwich thin with 2Tbsp peanut butter
-1/2 to3/4c fresh blueberries
-1 can Cherry Coke Zero
7:45 a.m.
-Two crackers, each with a smear of crab/cream cheese dip
12 noon
-Jambalaya that included andouille sausage, chicken, shrimp, tomatoes and rice. (The one I made had brown Minute Rice, the one Jeff made had much prettier long grain white rice.) I'd say 2 cups total.
-Two more crackers with crab dip
-Handful of puppy chow AND
-2" slice of delicious king cake AND
-2" square brownie AND
-bite size piece of something yummy with frosting (pumpkin maybe?)
-1 can Diet Coke
Damn the potluck. Especially the one where everyone brings delicious desserts.
3:30 p.m.
-Cupcake (I can't believe I'm admitting this right now.)
6 p.m.
-Leftover jumbalaya, 1.5 cups
-Celery sticks and cucumber slices with dill dip made with light sour cream
-4 pretzels
7:30 p.m.
20 minutes of weight lifting (I'm writing this in there as if it's already happened so that I have to go do it or be a liar.)
Monday, February 11, 2013
Endings and Beginnings
This was a rough weekend. Sorry for the lack of posting.
We decided it was time to let Blue go and I officially lost my running partner. She and I put on a lot of miles, walking and running, old and new me. She was there to monitor my eating and my workouts when no one else was.
End of an era.
I have to admit ... the house is very strangely quiet and I've shed more tears than I planned.
The weekend also marked the end of my workout hiatus. I walked a mile on the treadmill on Sunday and rode my bike for 30 minutes this morning. My knee is still not right, so I'm trying to start small. The pain is less, but I don't trust it ... it's still wobbly and unsteady. But I have to push it to know what it CAN do and that's where I'm at.
Tomorrow is the end of my out of control eating, too. This weekend alone: cheeseburger, french fries, cheesecake, birthday cake ... I could go on, but won't. You get the idea.
Wednesday will be the beginning of back to the strict Med diet. (With a small break for 5 days of vacation, that is.) Lent couldn't come at a better time. I would like it to be the beginning of my final push to my final goal weight. I've said this before and not accomplished what I said I was going to. But I want to make it true this time.
It's also the beginning of the training plan for the Rock The Rock Challenge.
That's a lot of change for one weekend. No wonder I'm tired.
We decided it was time to let Blue go and I officially lost my running partner. She and I put on a lot of miles, walking and running, old and new me. She was there to monitor my eating and my workouts when no one else was.
End of an era.
I have to admit ... the house is very strangely quiet and I've shed more tears than I planned.
The weekend also marked the end of my workout hiatus. I walked a mile on the treadmill on Sunday and rode my bike for 30 minutes this morning. My knee is still not right, so I'm trying to start small. The pain is less, but I don't trust it ... it's still wobbly and unsteady. But I have to push it to know what it CAN do and that's where I'm at.
Tomorrow is the end of my out of control eating, too. This weekend alone: cheeseburger, french fries, cheesecake, birthday cake ... I could go on, but won't. You get the idea.
Wednesday will be the beginning of back to the strict Med diet. (With a small break for 5 days of vacation, that is.) Lent couldn't come at a better time. I would like it to be the beginning of my final push to my final goal weight. I've said this before and not accomplished what I said I was going to. But I want to make it true this time.
It's also the beginning of the training plan for the Rock The Rock Challenge.
That's a lot of change for one weekend. No wonder I'm tired.
Friday, February 8, 2013
Lightweight
One of the good things about being thinner and about cutting most of the alcohol out of your repertoire (because who wants to waste calories on beer when you could spend them on chocolate?) is that when you DO decide to have a drink, it packs a punch!
Jim and I treated ourselves to a nice dinner tonight. The Liberty Inn, Beloit. Not uber fancy ... I wore jeans and 12-year-old Sketchers ... but it included bread and soup and salad and veggie tray and entree .. and a shared dessert.
And two glorious Brandy Old Fashioned Sweets. With fruit.
Liberty, you make a nice drink.
And I'm buzzing after a bellyful of food and two lovely cocktails.
Cheap date, as they say.
Thursday, February 7, 2013
One Week, No Exercise
It feels funny, not exercising.
I've taken a week or so off before; this isn't the first time. But I'm always amazed at how quickly it feels "normal" to not get a workout in every day.
It's nice to sleep in every morning. It's nice to not get all sweaty before bed and then have to take a shower. It's nice to not delay the start of the weekend to allow enough time for a long run before the day really starts.
I'm mostly watching what I eat. Not as carefully as I should be, I'm sure. Working from home a couple of days this week certainly didn't help the snacking issue. But I think I'm snacking smart, if that's possible.
I have to admit that it's kind of a nice break. And I'm a little bummed that it will be over soon.
My knee is better than it was (though still far from right), which means it's going to be time for me to test it out a little. And even though I am still taking stairs one at a time, I am able to get to the basement and lift weights if nothing else.
Have I gained any weight, you ask? I don't know. I've chosen to not weigh myself during this time. If I have gained something ... when there's not a whole lot I can do about it ... I don't want to feel bad about it. It will come off when I can get back into my normal routine.
I firmly believe a sabbatical is good for your brain. And while I want to get back to running more than anything, I am choosing to feel good about what this time off is doing for my head. It's going to give me a clear mind to tackle the training needed for the Rock the Rock Challenge!
Are you joining me?
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
My Running Partner
You know I love running and walking because I can do it by myself. Me. Shoes. Road. Done. I have run with another person ... once. But it's just not me.
The only one I don't mind sharing the road with is Blue.
You've met Blue before:
The Dog Speaks
I'll Have What She's Having
Dog Years, Dysplasia and Me
The CC posting schedule has been kind of wonky this week because Ms. Blue had "an episode" and has required some extra attention. My apologies.
She needed me.
She's been on meds for bad hips, general arthritis and pain. It was all going fine until Sunday night when she pulled up lame and was unable to stand. Again. A couple of friendly, handsome neighbors helped me get her outside (I can't lift/carry her with this damn knee) and off to the vet we went on Monday.
Turns out, she was in pretty bad shape. Infection. Inflammation. Dangerously low platlet count.
Right now she's on three new meds and responding well. We're not out of the woods yet, but she's up and down on her own, in and out of the house by herself. She even walked outside with me to feed chickens tonight. She loves to feed chickens.
At this point her running days are behind her. They have been for a while. But as long as we can both hobble to the mailbox, I'm counting that as a win.
The only one I don't mind sharing the road with is Blue.
You've met Blue before:
The Dog Speaks
I'll Have What She's Having
Dog Years, Dysplasia and Me
The CC posting schedule has been kind of wonky this week because Ms. Blue had "an episode" and has required some extra attention. My apologies.
She needed me.
She's been on meds for bad hips, general arthritis and pain. It was all going fine until Sunday night when she pulled up lame and was unable to stand. Again. A couple of friendly, handsome neighbors helped me get her outside (I can't lift/carry her with this damn knee) and off to the vet we went on Monday.
Turns out, she was in pretty bad shape. Infection. Inflammation. Dangerously low platlet count.
Right now she's on three new meds and responding well. We're not out of the woods yet, but she's up and down on her own, in and out of the house by herself. She even walked outside with me to feed chickens tonight. She loves to feed chickens.
At this point her running days are behind her. They have been for a while. But as long as we can both hobble to the mailbox, I'm counting that as a win.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Needles
Today was all about needles.
One ultrasound-guided needle poking in to aspirate the cyst. And one cortisone-filled needle filling up the newly empty cyst with numbing goodness.
I want to say it feels better. I'm not actually sure it does, yet, but I WANT to believe it.
The needle poking around in the semicircle pattern, trying to find the actual cyst? Not so great. But I'll happily trade the unpleasantness for a knee that's able to run.
One ultrasound-guided needle poking in to aspirate the cyst. And one cortisone-filled needle filling up the newly empty cyst with numbing goodness.
I want to say it feels better. I'm not actually sure it does, yet, but I WANT to believe it.
The needle poking around in the semicircle pattern, trying to find the actual cyst? Not so great. But I'll happily trade the unpleasantness for a knee that's able to run.
Sunday, February 3, 2013
The Psychology of Maintaining
Maintaining is all about trial and error. And it's internal and external.
It's really about finding a balance between confidence and fear.
You already know how to lose weight. You've done it. You already know that you've made lifestyle changes that will likely stick with you forever in some form. But you also know that there's room for a little more flexibility.
Trial and Error
Enough exercise. Enough good food. Mixed in with a little more leniency on both fronts when it's appropriate. You've gotta gain a little to know where the upper limit is and then you're going to have to lose it again. It's about defining those boundaries.
But it's familiar territory. I was lucky in that my journey included learning how to eat well while I was losing. I knew how to feed my body with the right nutrition. I knew how I reacted to occasional slip-ups or purposeful indulgences. I knew what to expect.
So maintaining wasn't that different. I could scale back my workout regiment ... I added more strength and cut back on cardio without panic, because I knew that was OK. I could stop compulsively weighing myself every day, because I knew it would be all right.
Internal and External
The internal part ... what's in your head ... is just as hard during "maintain" as it is during "lose." There are two thoughts that seem to rule. Two sides of the same coin. They seem similar, but they are not.
"What do I have to do to maintain balance?" vs. "What can I get away with?"
The first is positive. It provides a realistic place for you to live in. The second is waiting to sabotage you.
Your internal dialogue changes. Your head starts to think you're invincible You "get away" with quite a bit and there's no ill effect for a while. If four tough cardio workouts a week is enough, you think, three will probably be OK, too. If I can have one cookie a week, two might be all right.
It's a slippery slope.
The external dialogue changes, too.
After a while, the compliments slow down and you're not getting that positive feedback from the universe. Your body starts to look "normal" ... like the body you've always had. It's not this evolving thing that pleases you every time you look at it, giving you the surge of power and motivation to keep doing what you're doing.
You get comfortable. And that can equal lazy.
Confidence and Fear
So how do you stay on track? The trick is to not get complacent. You have to take the confidence that brought you this far, and the fear of going back to where you were to find a new strength. It's not a struggle every day. It's a choice every day. In the end, I think maintaining is all about waking up every morning and deciding to live healthy.
Easier said than done.
It's really about finding a balance between confidence and fear.
You already know how to lose weight. You've done it. You already know that you've made lifestyle changes that will likely stick with you forever in some form. But you also know that there's room for a little more flexibility.
Trial and Error
Enough exercise. Enough good food. Mixed in with a little more leniency on both fronts when it's appropriate. You've gotta gain a little to know where the upper limit is and then you're going to have to lose it again. It's about defining those boundaries.
But it's familiar territory. I was lucky in that my journey included learning how to eat well while I was losing. I knew how to feed my body with the right nutrition. I knew how I reacted to occasional slip-ups or purposeful indulgences. I knew what to expect.
So maintaining wasn't that different. I could scale back my workout regiment ... I added more strength and cut back on cardio without panic, because I knew that was OK. I could stop compulsively weighing myself every day, because I knew it would be all right.
Internal and External
The internal part ... what's in your head ... is just as hard during "maintain" as it is during "lose." There are two thoughts that seem to rule. Two sides of the same coin. They seem similar, but they are not.
"What do I have to do to maintain balance?" vs. "What can I get away with?"
The first is positive. It provides a realistic place for you to live in. The second is waiting to sabotage you.
Your internal dialogue changes. Your head starts to think you're invincible You "get away" with quite a bit and there's no ill effect for a while. If four tough cardio workouts a week is enough, you think, three will probably be OK, too. If I can have one cookie a week, two might be all right.
It's a slippery slope.
The external dialogue changes, too.
After a while, the compliments slow down and you're not getting that positive feedback from the universe. Your body starts to look "normal" ... like the body you've always had. It's not this evolving thing that pleases you every time you look at it, giving you the surge of power and motivation to keep doing what you're doing.
You get comfortable. And that can equal lazy.
Confidence and Fear
So how do you stay on track? The trick is to not get complacent. You have to take the confidence that brought you this far, and the fear of going back to where you were to find a new strength. It's not a struggle every day. It's a choice every day. In the end, I think maintaining is all about waking up every morning and deciding to live healthy.
Easier said than done.
Friday, February 1, 2013
Listen to Your Gut
Thursday morning I wanted to run. I was "scheduled" to run. But I knew Wednesday had been miserable and my knee kept me awake most of Wednesday night, so walking was the more likely workout.
I hit the treadmill and tried a slow pace to warm up. After about a tenth of a mile, I could tell that even walking would not be possible. So I got mad, got off the belt and half-heartedly lifted a few weights. Behind the 8-ball before I leave for work.
Therefore, it seemed outright mandatory that I come home and do Jillian. Jim came downstairs with me to scope out the Week 2 workout. And there we were, on the last 2-minute cardio rotation of the whole workout (only a 1-minute abs and the cool down to go) when we both heard this:
"POP!"
Followed by this:
"GRUMPHKLUMSMACKCRASH" (That's what I think I sound like falling to the floor) And then this, "Aaaaaoooowwwwhhhhhahahoowhososowowowofuckfuckfuckbawwawawawaaw."
And then it's just me on the floor gasping and crying for a while as Jim keeps repeating, "Breathe. Relax. What do you want me to do? Breathe. Relax. What do you want me to do?"
I eventually scoot up the stairs (on my ass, much like the Dells oh so long ago), Jim digs out the crutches from the last go-round (opposite knee this time) and off we go to Urgent Care.
As soon as they heard I had an appointment on Tuesday to drain a cyst, they stopped listening, wrote me a prescription and sent me home with a brace. "Talk to sports med."
I'm still unable to bend it or put any weight on it.
Just as I knew I shouldn't have tried to do the high knees cardio with Jillian, I know this isn't all a cyst.
Now I have to get someone else to believe me. I'm frustrated that it feels like I'm not being heard and that no one appears to be too worried about it. This is why I don't like going to the doctor. I don't think I'm a frequent complainer. I don't think I exaggerate. But I know when something isn't right and this isn't right.
Did I mention I'm pissed off?
I hit the treadmill and tried a slow pace to warm up. After about a tenth of a mile, I could tell that even walking would not be possible. So I got mad, got off the belt and half-heartedly lifted a few weights. Behind the 8-ball before I leave for work.
Therefore, it seemed outright mandatory that I come home and do Jillian. Jim came downstairs with me to scope out the Week 2 workout. And there we were, on the last 2-minute cardio rotation of the whole workout (only a 1-minute abs and the cool down to go) when we both heard this:
"POP!"
Followed by this:
"GRUMPHKLUMSMACKCRASH" (That's what I think I sound like falling to the floor) And then this, "Aaaaaoooowwwwhhhhhahahoowhososowowowofuckfuckfuckbawwawawawaaw."
And then it's just me on the floor gasping and crying for a while as Jim keeps repeating, "Breathe. Relax. What do you want me to do? Breathe. Relax. What do you want me to do?"
I eventually scoot up the stairs (on my ass, much like the Dells oh so long ago), Jim digs out the crutches from the last go-round (opposite knee this time) and off we go to Urgent Care.
As soon as they heard I had an appointment on Tuesday to drain a cyst, they stopped listening, wrote me a prescription and sent me home with a brace. "Talk to sports med."
I'm still unable to bend it or put any weight on it.
Just as I knew I shouldn't have tried to do the high knees cardio with Jillian, I know this isn't all a cyst.
Now I have to get someone else to believe me. I'm frustrated that it feels like I'm not being heard and that no one appears to be too worried about it. This is why I don't like going to the doctor. I don't think I'm a frequent complainer. I don't think I exaggerate. But I know when something isn't right and this isn't right.
Did I mention I'm pissed off?
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