A Challenge

Having trainers is a great way to be accountable for meeting fitness goals. John and Maria ask us: “Have you been running?” And being a good Catholic girl, I’d feel awful if I lied. So I tell the truth. These days I can smile, jump up and down (if I’m not too sore) and say “Yes, yes, I’m running.”

But it helps to have back-up. Watch any cop shop. Back up is a must. That’s where the good folks at elasticwaist.com (one of my fave blogs at the moment) come in. They are connecting folks to fulfill the Breast Cancer Awareness Fitness Challenge. It’s a simple yet genius concept of a group spreadsheet (oh so easy in Google these days) where an assorted group of random folks log exercise and hold each other accountable (in a pleasant, I don’t want to be the only one not exercising way). It’s a great way to get a kick in the pants and to feel like we’re all in it together.

Thursday: C25K - week 1b, workout 4

OK, so on the actual C25K plan, there’s no week 1b. David and I invented it. We were feeling a little beaten down by the first week and wanted a sense that we were improving by the routine seeming easier. Hence the repeat of week 1. This morning’s run was all right. I’m no longer feeling breathless for the minute of running, which amazes me. My heartrate goes up, but not as high as it was last week and it comes down much quicker during the 90-second walk. Good signs that my heart and lungs are adapting. BUT, my calves, ankles, shins, and feet are KILLING me. The first 3 rounds of running, I was alright, running about 5mph. Not too shabby. But on that 4th round of running, my shins started aching. When I slowed down to a walk, my calves felt really tight. The next few rounds my teeny tiny ankles joined the ailing as did my feet.

I’m thinking that my muscles are still adapting but probably need a good stretch before and after these workouts. I admit, I’m not that great at stretching – it kind of feels like a waste of time in the moment. I want to get going with the workout or get home to eat a banana (or maybe this oatmeal as it gets cooler). But I have a feeling my body will thank me for stretching, so it should be a part of the workout. I also know that when running, I’m throwing weight on my teeny tiny ankles (really, they are teeny) and my feet (which are wearing 3-year old shoes). So strengthening my ankles and perhaps investing in decent shoes might be important.

Wednesday: Getting Stuef-ed

This blog at the moment is a sort of diary; I haven’t told anyone about it. But for posterity, I should at least explain “getting Stuef-ed.” The Stuefs, John & Maria, are our trainers. David and I started with them several months ago – April, maybe. Three days a week, we get a dose of Stuefs. It’s good for us.

Our workout tonight was a lot of TRX. TRX is a crazy complicated system of nylon bands that magically attach to a door or tree and on which you can do a myriad of exercises using your body weight as resistance. Meaning, for someone with curves, you’re lifting more weight because you’re lifting your body. I particularly enjoy push-ups and squats on the TRX as opposed to the traditional versions. I hate lunges on it, but then I just hate lunges across the board. I also dislike any of the exercises that make me feel like I’m at the gynecologist with feet in stir-ups. Ah, the things one does for fitness.

For the curious, a TRX workout video. Note, we have neither the looks nor the affinity for bad music as the people in the video.

Tuesday: Rest & Contemplation

We were planning on meeting John for our Stuef workout, but when John heard about soreness, he concluded we should move up our day of rest. Yay rest.

I’ve thought more about this blog and why I am compelled to chronicle what we’re doing. I guess what it boils down to is that I’m trying to learn the lessons my mom’s been hammering into my head for years.

It’s interesting reading about other folks’ experiences with family, particularly regarding weight. There are stories of being on forced diets since childhood, moms obsessing over kid food choices, monetary rewards for weight loss, ugly and hateful words being spewed. But my experience with parents and weight was much different. My mom has always told me that I’m beautiful. She has never looked disapproving and said, “Maybe you shouldn’t eat that.” She’s been supportive of me in every decision I’ve made regarding weight, food choices, exercise and counting calories.

So the diets I went on, the appointments with endocrinologists and specialist, and the memberships to Jenny Craig or others of that ilk, they were my idea. They were my attempt to “fix a problem” that would make me attractive, desirable, popular, and successful in my peer group. When I think back, for a good 20 years, I’ve been trying to fix the same problem for the same reasons.

But I can’t sing the typical therapy tune and blame my mom for all this baggage. I can’t really blame media either as my rather granola mom had us listening to classical music and watching PBS. It is my doing. I listened to those around me in school and formed my body image based on their standards. I chose (consciously or otherwise) not to listen to my mom, the person who knows me best.

So, it’s time to grow up and listen to my mom. My mom told me I was loved and lovable because God doesn’t make junk. She told me that girls in magazines and on TV had nothing better to do than work out, spend money, and get photos airbrushed. She told me that there was a difference between being healthy and being skinny and that I should strive for healthy and let the chips fall where they may.

And twenty years later, I’m starting to believe her….. hence this blog.

Monday: C25K - week 1, workout 3

So our resolve wasn’t strong this morning. The alarm went off and I rolled over and said to David, “Let’s run tonight.” He grunted (in agreement, I assume) and we both went back to sleep. I’m such a bad influence and David’s so easy to sway. The combination of a later-than-usual night (my sewing project had my attention) and soreness from getting Stuef-ed got me. Added to that, we’re sleeping with the windows open, so the chill of the morning makes me just want to snuggle down not pop out of bed and into workout clothes. But tonight, before dinner, we shall run.
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So we ran tonight before dinner which is impressive because we had a luscious Mediterranean meal waiting for us at home -- chicken, couscous, hummus, lavash, veggies for me. Yum.

Enough salivating and back to running. I don't know. I'm waiting for running to be fun and it's not. At all. My feet hurt. My shins don't feel great. My calves get achy. I want to walk 1.0mph and never contemplate running again. At Mass, Cyril asked, "Isn't it fun?" and I couldn't believe he was serious. Maybe it will be fun when it doesn't anger me. I should let my anger at running, fuel my running. Hmmmm....

On a side note, I think David and I agree that we're going to repeat week one of C25K to see if it gets easier (more fun?)after another week. I'm not optimistic.

In the news

I’m currently on a quest for fitness. Ten years ago I was on a quest to be thin. The two are quite different frameworks and really show a shift in how I’m thinking about my goals and my body. This has led me to read a handful of blogs by folks in the “size acceptance” community. Reading their thoughts and ideas and worries makes me feel less alone. Interestingly, today in the size acceptance blogosphere, a NY Times article was mentioned several times. It’s about health and weight and suggests that perhaps health isn’t determined by a number on a scale, but by an array of health and social indicators. Have a read here.

Sunday: Getting Stuef-ed

7:30AM Sunday comes freaking early. Really, what are we thinking working out at that hour on a weekend?! It happened nonetheless.

The H-word popped up in the workout today. John said, “Veronica, your husband is SO strong.” And I rolled my eyes even though in some 18th century way, it seems like I should swoon at his strength. I smiled to myself and knowing that later I'd tease him: “Hercules, Hercules” with little claps a la “The Nutty Professor.” David saw me and knew just what I was thinking. Tee hee. I didn’t even have to tease. But really, he deserves it; he is such a trainer’s pet.

Beyond David’s magnificent perfection at working out, our time with John was tough but good. He said that if we keep running and doing the strength training with him, I should definitely see a change on the scale. I’m a bit doubtful. I’ve heard that before and gotten my hopes up and I’m not making the same mistake again. So I’ll keep doing both because it’s good for my health and even though I whine about it, I don’t hate it.

Saturday: C25K - week 1, workout 2

It’s been a busy Saturday and I really just wanted to plop on the couch. But David and I have committed to making time for our C25K workout today…blah, blah blah… Let’s just get it over. So we headed to the gym at the apartment. Guess what? One of the treadmills isn’t working! Freaking apartment complex! We had more neurons firing today than a few mornings ago, so we did a bit of trouble-shooting. Seems like a fuse has blown and only one of the outlets is working. Glorious. Our rent monies going to good use. It’s all good; we weren’t deterred. I did 20 minutes on the recumbent bike while David did his running and then we swapped.

My turn on the treadmill wasn’t easy. The first few run/walk cycles were tough and I wanted to quit. Ugh. I HATE RUNNING. But I kept going and watched the cheesy movie David had on TV (Drumline). Distraction by cheese was a good plan. The minute of running still seems long and the 90 seconds of walking not long enough, but by the fourth round, I wasn’t sold on quitting. I wouldn’t say that after 8 cycles I was begging to run more, though. It was tough, but I survived. Yay me!

Friday: Getting Stuef-ed

We headed to Bond Park this evening for a workout with John. It was nice to get out in the autumn air and really breathe. I’m glad we’re going back to the park for workouts. We did a round-robin of sorts – David did step ups while I worked on the TRX and then we swapped and moved on to another set of exercises. I don’t know why, but I like that format.

Then came what David and I had been dreading – the re-introduction of the dead lift. I hate the dead lift. David hates the dead lift. John loves that we hate the dead lift. Let me explain. In a dead lift, you stand with your feet shoulder-width apart. You squat down, looking forward, grab a bar loaded with weight, and lift it up, keeping it close to your body. When you are finally standing straight up, holding the bar, you pull your shoulders back and then slowly lower back into a squat and guide the bar back to the ground. It’s a slow painful process that is repeated umpteen ga-zillion times. Each time you lift the bar, it feels heavier and the trainer smiles.

The joy of the dead lift is that it’s a gift that keeps giving. Not only is it horrendous in the moment, you feel them days later, particularly first thing in the morning. David feels them in his lower back; I feel them in my hips. And just when the soreness has worn off, they magically reappear in the workout. We groan and John just smiles.

Thursday: C25K - week 1, workout 1

I crawled out of bed, grumbling and wrestled myself into workout clothes this morning. David and I walked to the gym in complete silence other than a few grunts. Neither treadmill was working. We grumbled and grunted more and loudly because the gym is new, so why the equipment isn’t working is a mystery. Stupid apartment complex. We decided that we could try running outside, despite the chill and the differences in our paces. I secretly thought this a crazy idea, but we promised ourselves we do this, so whatever. We ran and walked, and ran and walked…. It’s amazing how long 60 seconds of running feels and how short 90 seconds of walking feels, particularly at an ungodly hour.

As we do this around the parking lot, I’m self-conscious. There are kids going to school, business types heading to work, people taking trash to the dumpster. People are seeing me run. I’m not paranoid to think people are watching me run in the “I’ll be watching you” sense. But people are seeing ME run. Jiggly parts and all. And I immediately assume they are judging me – my lack of speed and grace and athleticism, my red face, my jiggliness. And I wanted to run and hide. I don’t feel better; I feel worse. More than that, I feel ashamed. But as I plodded forward in my morning run/walk, I begin thinking differently. Damn straight, I AM RUNNING. And good for me. Who is anyone (including myself) to pass judgment on me? I may not be a graceful or athletic or attractive runner, but I am giving it a go and that’s the point.

A journey always begins with a single step.