Have you ever had the kind of week where it's just like . . . . ughhh, please be over?!
I can't really say that anything horrible happened. There were no flat tires, no weight gains, not major work crises. My boyfriend and I are slowly sifting through some of the issues between us, and getting back to a place where it feels good to be together. Everything just feels like . . . work right now.
I know what a privilege it is for me to work this hard. I know that what I do in the gym matters. I know that planning my meals makes a difference. I know how lucky I am to be able to feed myself with healthy food in this country that has so many families struggling to feed themselves and resorting to processed cheap stuff. I know that I shouldn't complain about having a job that pays the bills. I know also that having someone who loves me and who is willing to work on the things that need attention and revamping is no small thing. I just feel so, so tired that everything is so time consuming right now. It's hard to keep being psyched about all of it. I feel like I keep moving my focus and gaze; I'll put a spot light on my eating for a week, and it will go well, and then I'll move the spotlight to my exercise the next week, and that will go well but the eating will slip a little, and then the next week my focus will be on my relationship and my feelings, and then my eating and exercise will start to go all wonky . . . I feel like there isn't enough of me to attend to all of the parts of me right now and that is frustrating. It's all well and good for me to tell my boss, "If everything is a priority then nothing is a priority," but I struggle when that prophecy comes true in my life.
If I'm allowed to whine a little bit more, I just want to sleep. I want a whole day where I do nothing but sleep, drink really tasty flavored Perrier, and read. And then sleep some more. I want a day where I get to eat pizza and not think about it. And I want a day that's all about me, not about anyone else and what they need from me. I don't want to be greedy so all of those things can happen on the same day. I'll condense so as to allow others to have their magical days - I assume magical days are a zero sum game and that there's only so many to go around, you see. The thing is, in order to have this magical day, I need an eight day in the week, because there are 5 days a week where I need to work really hard, and 6 days a week where I have to work out really hard. And then I'm all out of days.
A lot of what is fueling my down mood this week is that my running has been sucking a lot of suckage. When my friends were here, just two weeks ago, I jog/walked 2.5 miles in less than 30 minutes. This week, getting through 2 miles has been awful. There is something wrong with my calves, but since I'm not a "real" runner, I don't know what it is. the backs of my calves feel hard and puffy, and if I touch them, it feels like they are bruised. But they're not. (Does anyone know what this is?) It weirds me out that I can feel pain as though it's on the surface but not see the cause. Worse, this seems to be resulting in a return of my bad, bad foot problems that had been disappearing. The last couple of runs, my feet have cramped up so bad that they went numb and tingly.I am missing the feeling of simple, brute accomplishment I was getting from completing run and progressing in speed and endurance. No, I still don't get the "rush" my runner friend is always on about, but I do feel like I've done something real and tangible after I run. With everything else in my life being such a long, drawn out THING right now, I don't often get to have a good result right away - you can't get that from eating chicken and broccoli, you don't get an instant warm fuzzy from having a hard conversation with a loved one, and let me tell you, while database reviews need to get done at work, there is nothing immediately gratifying about them. So, I kind of - gasp, dare I say it - miss having a good run in my life right now.
It's a weird but true fact that when things are going well, I just expect them to keep going that way. I don't always think about what it takes to keep things going well, though I try to think deeply about what are the things that made a day or a week good. I think in this case, I just have to look at the things I have committed myself to, make sure they are still the things I want to do, and that they leave room for other things I love, and decide if I need a break from anything. Certainly part of this is about work - because I worked a ton on the road in September, I have a ton of office work to catch up on, and still not quite enough time to do it because October's normal travel schedule wasn't built around the idea of making up for the lack of office time in September. It's hard to work long days, every single day, for two months straight. It's harder still to have no days where I sleep in, and to be constantly trying to force an hour or more of exercise into my schedule during this busy time. It has often meant I roll out of bed very early, head into the office and then take a lunch break at a weird time in order to walk, run, or lift.
I find that when I'm tired and run down, my commitment to a lot of things wanes. I feel less excited about time with friends, about getting work done, about working out, and certainly eating right becomes very difficult. I definitely have found that my appetite is often not the predictor of when my healthy eating habits crack, but rather how tired and run down I am. It's hard to balance the need to keep going, do more, against the need to slow down and rest so that you don't crack in your resolve.
For that reason, after a long day at work yesterday, I chose to place more importance on spending time with two of my good friends and really slow down, not worrying as much about schedules and committments. I probably should have been in the gym, but it felt like it was really needed to stop being part of the machine. So, I had a beer, and a salad, and a run through Colorado's #1 haunted house (and yes, I mean a run. There were places that were sooooo creepy) and then back to my friend's house to listen to music and talk about plans for the upcoming Halloween party. Then I slept for a full eight hours, and soon I will go get my hair done and head out to a casual wedding reception. I know I need this time by the level of frustration and disenchantment I have with everything right now - as a for instance, I was so tired yesterday that I thought, "Ummm, maybe I just won't go out for food and the haunted house." And then I stood outside myself and thought,"Wait, you really want to do this, you're just tired. Go!" I also know the challenge is to not turn this little 1 day break into a bad habit of not doing what I need to do.
But for today, hallelujah, I feel like I got enough sleep and I'm looking forward to the fall weather and a chance to see a few people I like, and then who knows, maybe some more sleep. Fingers crossed that getting some rest and talking to my trainer will help me find the answer to how to get my mojo back in running - who knew that losing that groove would effect me so much?!
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Monday, October 17, 2011
Honesty, Part 2
Six weeks ago, as a new blogger I wrote this post about honesty with myself. I'm fundamentally very, very attached to my honesty and my ability to say what is true, even if it isn't received well by others. So I explored how that would feel if I turned that honesty on myself. It felt a little uncomfortable, but not painful. In this post I got a small taste of how others must experience me - the uncompromising high standards are probably intimidating. I guess my honesty is too. A good friend pointed out yesterday that anyone with issues probably feels a little concerned or intimidated by the fact that I am very open and honest, because they know their issues will be exposed.
It was an eye-opening conversation for me. On the one hand, I'm not going to stop being honest, but on the other hand I don't want that penchant for speaking out about hard things to be mistaken for a lack of empathy, or worse, some kind of blind spot about my own issues. I take it as a given that my issues are up for grabs too - I mean, I started a blog about them - but I also recognize that if I appear intimidating, then it's probably doesn't seem like I'm approachable on those subjects. My sister told me that when she reads my blog she feels like she's trespassing on my private diary (I reassured her that I have a journal I wrote in just for myself and I'm aware that this is published and read by others) but at the same time, writing about me isn't enough to make sure I'm just as open to being honest about me as I am about others. I have to speak it too.
I often give people the impression that I'm very open. I think this happens because I answer questions very openly. There isn't much I won't talk about in terms of theme or subject - my childhood, my dad's death, sex, you name it. I'll answer it. This often gives people a false sense of knowing me deeply and/or that I am an open book. I remember last year during my scary-but-wonderful singing class my teacher trying to help me perform with more emotional openness saying, "I don't believe this performance. You need to show me more inside." I responded saying something to the effect of I didn't know how to do that and she said, very lovingly, "But I know you! You're an expressive person when you talk. You're very emotional and open!." She wasn't wrong but what I thought was, "Yeah, you THINK you know me, but there's a lot you don't know." Because I am expressive and talk a lot about feelings and reactions, because I talk with my hands and have animated facial expressions, because there are few taboo subjects with me, people frequently get a false sense of closeness with me. I don't mean to mislead them. I'm not trying to lead people down a garden path. It's more that I give a lot up front, but conceal important truths and feelings to keep myself safe. I described this once to another student in the class as being a real estate agent showing a house. I'll invite you in, tell you to look around, invite you to enjoy the open house food I've laid out and encourage you to ask any questions you have. But I'll just conveniently leave out that the house is haunted, or some other important detail.
The need to be more honest to other people, about myself, out loud, was never more clear than when I met with my trainer yesterday. This was the first time seeing him since I saw the dietician last week. I was medically referred by my doctor after messing up my body and my eating with the diet plan that could never work for me (silly Christie, diets where people lose large amounts of weight are for other people!). I didn't think anything about going, but after getting my new eating plan from her, I wanted to share it with my trainer. I texted him as I was leaving the office and said, "Saw the dietician today! Have lots to share - looking forward to Sunday."
When I ran into my friend who also works with the same trainer, she said, "So, you saw a nutritionist?" Since I don't really know the difference between a nutritionist and a dietician I said, "Yep. I really like her." And my friend said, "Well, that's great. Just a question for you. What about (insert our trainer's name here.)" In my brain it made this noise, "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh." All of a sudden I realized, CRAP! I totally didn't talk about this with him! And he might want in on this to make sure we're all on the same page.
I was medically referred, yes, and there's nothing wrong with me going, but if my goals with him are weight loss, then he needs to know about my medical status and diet; just like when I met with the dietiician I brought info about my diagnosis and medications, as well as about my workouts with him. That door has to swing both ways since the goals are the same in all three consultations. I had given him the impression that everything was transparent between us by conveniently leaving out that the house was haunted, or more specifically, that I was medically compromised and that's why I needed to see someone.
Actually, being more honest about it means saying this: I changed my eating drastically without telling him or my doctor when I went on that plan. I don't have to search hard to find that the reason I did that is because I didn't want to hear cautions or reasons not to go on that plan. I wanted to focus on the 50+ pounds my friends had lost. I wanted, no I needed, to believe that that could happen to me too if I was just committed and disciplined.
My trainer said to me, "I'm not sorry you went, and it sounds like the information and structure you got is helpful. I want to talk to you more about it while we work out. But I also want to make sure you know I could have done that for you too." He thought for a minute while he was setting up kettlebells for me and finished up with, "When I got your text I was a little surprised."
I looked him straight in the eye and said, "I know. I realized that after. I'm sorry. I know you can do this too, but I need as much structure as I can get. My doctor medically referred me because I messed up in July and August. I went way too low with my calories so I lost fast and then stopped losing at all, and that's a warning sign. And my labs were awful. Ahe waved them in front of me and basically said, despite being the nicest, sweetest little Indian lady, 'what the hell are you doing? This is a mess!' I think you should be pissed, but be pissed that I changed my eating drastically then and didn't consult you. It just feels like I'm always on the extreme ends of the spectrum with my eating, and I don't know how to find the middle point on my own." That was all deeply honest, but if I was plumbing the depths of this story I would also have said this: I am a food addict, but self aware enough to know I sabotage myself. That means there's hope for me to find recovery, but it also means when I mess up I feel not just like someone out of control, but like a bad person. It's very painful for me to go through these last few months having to fee my feelings during things that are really hard in my professional and personal life, and all I want to do is buy frozen pizza and Cheezits and pull the proverbial covers up over my head. But if I do that, I'm faced with the feelings of failure and being unworthy of love. I need help. From wherever I can get it.
I think he senses what a struggle this is for me, not just the weight loss, but talking about it because what he said was very firm, but compassionate. "I wish you had told me your labs were bad. In one sense, talking with your doctor is separate, but in another sense, if I had known that I could have done things differently. You don't have to tell me about your labs and doctor's appointments but if you do we can work together better. "
I said that I wanted to share my food logs with him, and have him be involved in that. He gently said,
"You can tell me the medical doctor stuff too." He's not wrong. By leaving things out of the conversation, I wasn't dishonest, but I wasn't honest either. I was avoiding his help because I didn't want to hear that what I did was wrong, or that what I wanted wasn't possible. I didn't know that this plan wouldn't work for me, but I knew that not talking about it with him was a bad idea. So much for the idea that I'm completely open and honest when it counts.
If I want to get better, if I want to like myself more and be more worthy of my own love, I need to be willing to, as a 12 step program says, "make a fearless and searching moral inventory and quickly admit wrongs." I was wrong to pay my trainer to help me get stronger and thinner but not tell him I had changed my eating. I was wrong to not tell him when my doctor discovered my body was crashing and burning on the inside. I was wrong not to tell him that I had been referred to a dietician. I was probably also wrong to not tell him the full truth about me as I know it now and to hold back on saying, "I'm really messed up on the inside, and for the first time I see a way to try and make it better." I was wrong to let him spend the last 3.5 months thinking he knew what was going on with me, and thinking that I was being open with him. Clearly, I'm not as strong on honesty as I like to think when I can so easily leave things out of the conversation to avoid things I don't want to hear.
Yesterday was a wake up call for me. When we sat down and he looked through some of the items from the dietician he said, "Well, I would like to be involved in this stuff with you even though i know you have a plan laid out with her (the dietician) too. "
I said, "Yes, I need you to look at my food log every week. I need all the accountability I can get because I mess up and it becomes a slippery slope really quickly and then I feel like I'm failing at life."
"Well, if you want to use me for accountability, you need to tell me these things. Just sayin'"
So true. Good talk.
It was an eye-opening conversation for me. On the one hand, I'm not going to stop being honest, but on the other hand I don't want that penchant for speaking out about hard things to be mistaken for a lack of empathy, or worse, some kind of blind spot about my own issues. I take it as a given that my issues are up for grabs too - I mean, I started a blog about them - but I also recognize that if I appear intimidating, then it's probably doesn't seem like I'm approachable on those subjects. My sister told me that when she reads my blog she feels like she's trespassing on my private diary (I reassured her that I have a journal I wrote in just for myself and I'm aware that this is published and read by others) but at the same time, writing about me isn't enough to make sure I'm just as open to being honest about me as I am about others. I have to speak it too.
I often give people the impression that I'm very open. I think this happens because I answer questions very openly. There isn't much I won't talk about in terms of theme or subject - my childhood, my dad's death, sex, you name it. I'll answer it. This often gives people a false sense of knowing me deeply and/or that I am an open book. I remember last year during my scary-but-wonderful singing class my teacher trying to help me perform with more emotional openness saying, "I don't believe this performance. You need to show me more inside." I responded saying something to the effect of I didn't know how to do that and she said, very lovingly, "But I know you! You're an expressive person when you talk. You're very emotional and open!." She wasn't wrong but what I thought was, "Yeah, you THINK you know me, but there's a lot you don't know." Because I am expressive and talk a lot about feelings and reactions, because I talk with my hands and have animated facial expressions, because there are few taboo subjects with me, people frequently get a false sense of closeness with me. I don't mean to mislead them. I'm not trying to lead people down a garden path. It's more that I give a lot up front, but conceal important truths and feelings to keep myself safe. I described this once to another student in the class as being a real estate agent showing a house. I'll invite you in, tell you to look around, invite you to enjoy the open house food I've laid out and encourage you to ask any questions you have. But I'll just conveniently leave out that the house is haunted, or some other important detail.
The need to be more honest to other people, about myself, out loud, was never more clear than when I met with my trainer yesterday. This was the first time seeing him since I saw the dietician last week. I was medically referred by my doctor after messing up my body and my eating with the diet plan that could never work for me (silly Christie, diets where people lose large amounts of weight are for other people!). I didn't think anything about going, but after getting my new eating plan from her, I wanted to share it with my trainer. I texted him as I was leaving the office and said, "Saw the dietician today! Have lots to share - looking forward to Sunday."
When I ran into my friend who also works with the same trainer, she said, "So, you saw a nutritionist?" Since I don't really know the difference between a nutritionist and a dietician I said, "Yep. I really like her." And my friend said, "Well, that's great. Just a question for you. What about (insert our trainer's name here.)" In my brain it made this noise, "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh." All of a sudden I realized, CRAP! I totally didn't talk about this with him! And he might want in on this to make sure we're all on the same page.
I was medically referred, yes, and there's nothing wrong with me going, but if my goals with him are weight loss, then he needs to know about my medical status and diet; just like when I met with the dietiician I brought info about my diagnosis and medications, as well as about my workouts with him. That door has to swing both ways since the goals are the same in all three consultations. I had given him the impression that everything was transparent between us by conveniently leaving out that the house was haunted, or more specifically, that I was medically compromised and that's why I needed to see someone.
Actually, being more honest about it means saying this: I changed my eating drastically without telling him or my doctor when I went on that plan. I don't have to search hard to find that the reason I did that is because I didn't want to hear cautions or reasons not to go on that plan. I wanted to focus on the 50+ pounds my friends had lost. I wanted, no I needed, to believe that that could happen to me too if I was just committed and disciplined.
My trainer said to me, "I'm not sorry you went, and it sounds like the information and structure you got is helpful. I want to talk to you more about it while we work out. But I also want to make sure you know I could have done that for you too." He thought for a minute while he was setting up kettlebells for me and finished up with, "When I got your text I was a little surprised."
I looked him straight in the eye and said, "I know. I realized that after. I'm sorry. I know you can do this too, but I need as much structure as I can get. My doctor medically referred me because I messed up in July and August. I went way too low with my calories so I lost fast and then stopped losing at all, and that's a warning sign. And my labs were awful. Ahe waved them in front of me and basically said, despite being the nicest, sweetest little Indian lady, 'what the hell are you doing? This is a mess!' I think you should be pissed, but be pissed that I changed my eating drastically then and didn't consult you. It just feels like I'm always on the extreme ends of the spectrum with my eating, and I don't know how to find the middle point on my own." That was all deeply honest, but if I was plumbing the depths of this story I would also have said this: I am a food addict, but self aware enough to know I sabotage myself. That means there's hope for me to find recovery, but it also means when I mess up I feel not just like someone out of control, but like a bad person. It's very painful for me to go through these last few months having to fee my feelings during things that are really hard in my professional and personal life, and all I want to do is buy frozen pizza and Cheezits and pull the proverbial covers up over my head. But if I do that, I'm faced with the feelings of failure and being unworthy of love. I need help. From wherever I can get it.
I think he senses what a struggle this is for me, not just the weight loss, but talking about it because what he said was very firm, but compassionate. "I wish you had told me your labs were bad. In one sense, talking with your doctor is separate, but in another sense, if I had known that I could have done things differently. You don't have to tell me about your labs and doctor's appointments but if you do we can work together better. "
I said that I wanted to share my food logs with him, and have him be involved in that. He gently said,
"You can tell me the medical doctor stuff too." He's not wrong. By leaving things out of the conversation, I wasn't dishonest, but I wasn't honest either. I was avoiding his help because I didn't want to hear that what I did was wrong, or that what I wanted wasn't possible. I didn't know that this plan wouldn't work for me, but I knew that not talking about it with him was a bad idea. So much for the idea that I'm completely open and honest when it counts.
If I want to get better, if I want to like myself more and be more worthy of my own love, I need to be willing to, as a 12 step program says, "make a fearless and searching moral inventory and quickly admit wrongs." I was wrong to pay my trainer to help me get stronger and thinner but not tell him I had changed my eating. I was wrong to not tell him when my doctor discovered my body was crashing and burning on the inside. I was wrong not to tell him that I had been referred to a dietician. I was probably also wrong to not tell him the full truth about me as I know it now and to hold back on saying, "I'm really messed up on the inside, and for the first time I see a way to try and make it better." I was wrong to let him spend the last 3.5 months thinking he knew what was going on with me, and thinking that I was being open with him. Clearly, I'm not as strong on honesty as I like to think when I can so easily leave things out of the conversation to avoid things I don't want to hear.
Yesterday was a wake up call for me. When we sat down and he looked through some of the items from the dietician he said, "Well, I would like to be involved in this stuff with you even though i know you have a plan laid out with her (the dietician) too. "
I said, "Yes, I need you to look at my food log every week. I need all the accountability I can get because I mess up and it becomes a slippery slope really quickly and then I feel like I'm failing at life."
"Well, if you want to use me for accountability, you need to tell me these things. Just sayin'"
So true. Good talk.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
zombies
Today is something of a holiday for me. Today ends 44 weeks of waiting. Today the long awaited season two of Walking Dead starts. (eeeeeeeeee!)
I know I have mentioned my love of zombies before, but I don't think I've explained why zombies cause me to grow as excited as small children get around bowls of chocolate. (In fact, all of my food addictions and love of carbs aside, I would rather watch zombies than eat a magical bowl of delicious and yet calorie free chocolate)
Zombies quite simply, are phenomenally fascinating. Of course, there is something kind of supernatural about them, but they aren't all airbrushed and pretend-sexy-scary like the vampires. You know what I'm talking about. (That fakeness and feeling of being in a magazine shoot doesn't do it for me.) And yet, zombies are the dead become undead. How beautifully brill.
They're gross and gory, so there's a lot of adrenaline involved in watching them. And while all of that is great, what is even better is the cognitive paradox they represent. Depending on which movie or show you're watching, there are fast zombies or slow zombies. Some zombies can climb, and some cannot. Some zombies have the presence to pursue or chase, and some can't. But they all share one important trait: they are mindless. Not brain-less, but mindless. They can't remember their name, speak, or formulate a plan more complicated than a goldfish would make. But they're still moving. And eating. Well, they're eating whenever they can get their hands on some flesh. (eeeeeeeeeeeeee!)
Zombies are one of the clearest ways to illustrate the important distinction that cognitive scientists make between the brain and the mind. The brain is an organ that but the mind is the living computer that allows us to make complex calculations, learn, and distinguishes us from other species. I sometimes describe this difference as the brain being the wet and mushy stuff in our skull that does biological stuff and the mind being the tool that allows us to figure shit out via sophisticated processing. But my wonderful Cognitive Scientist friend boiled it down much more elegantly: the brain is what zombies want to eat, while the mind is what they lack.
And yet, do you know how to kill the undead?
Yes, that's right. The way to stop a zombie for good is to cause a serious, often severing, brain trauma. Shot to the head, decapitation, baseball bat repeatedly sunk into the forehead. What an awesome paradox for someone as nerdy as me.
I also have a hankering to be entertained by "end of the world" stories. Stephen King's The Stand, yep, read it three times. Disease outbreaks sweeping the planet? I'm there. Giant meteorite, sign me up. One of my best birthdays was when a friend took me out for dinner, and then we went to see, The day after tomorrow. It. was. awful. I mean - awesome. It was awfesome. Aliens, disease, famine, force of nature, government conspiracy, I enjoy them all. I love the end of the world because the story isn't just about the apocalypse, but also about the people left, their survival and whether or not the better angels of their nature prevail.
For me, zombies are the best, most entertaining example of this. Someone asked me once if my excitement and deep knowledge of zombies came from a real fear and belief that the zombie apocalypse might happen. Umm, no. I think zombies are a Hollywood way of saying, "We fear ourselves." But, for me, the stories that seem to really stick with me are the ones that really focus on the survivors and the difficult and dark places that decisions and morality go, but also the beautiful and uplifting examples of people trying not to lose their humanity. Nothing seems to bring this out for me quite as memorably or heart-tuggingly than the juxtaposition of people trying to make it while trying to survive the uprising of former-and-now-flesh-eating-people.
My love of zombies goes deep enough to have put serious thought into how they can function biologically but not have mind. I once spent an entire weekend writing down theories about how different agents/events could cause zombies and selectively strike their mind, but spare their brain. Yes, I am that much of a geek, and a zombie enthusiast. I had some pretty good theories too, and found out, with not that much work, that there have been "scholarly" publications about the cognition of zombies. Ahh, academia, how I love thee.
I also have spent a lot of time thinking about survival in the zombie apocalypse. I didn't realize how well formulated my plans were until last spring when my cousin posted something on Facebook. He asked if it would be ok to leave somebody behind in a zombie apocalypse, if it meant saving yourself. I answered that that question had more than moral overtones. Of course, morally speaking, it would be hard to sleep at night if you left your friend to be munched on (though with zombies on the loose it would probably be hard to sleep at night anyways), but there's a more important and less altruistic thing to consider: surviving the first wave of the apocalypse usually depends a lot on luck, location, and timing. But surviving the second wave is almost always dictated by things beyond luck such as having more of something - shelter, food, fuel, people. So, save people!!! What followed was a rolling Facebook conversation between me, my friends, my cousin, and my cousin's friends about how to survive zombies. We discussed optimal locations (remote mountains, warehouses, and army installations were most mentioned), how to gather food (don't forget water! Very important!), the best modes of transportation (horses are great for all terrain, but not for escaping hordes of flesh eating undead. Tanks are awesome for driving over the masses of zombies, but not so good if you want to be somewhere remote. Motorcycles . . . have a lot of maneuvering pros, but a lot of vulnerability cons. My mother suggests a dragon. Yes, A DRAGON.), and some other items. I raised the point that after civilization dies other problems arise. Simple things become less simple, such as common illnesses and appendicitis. It's important to stockpile medication and find someone who can act as a doctor. Also, people seem to like to get it on at the end of the world, and when running for your lives from zombies is not the ideal time to be knocked up. One of my other cousins (we have 19 first cousins on my mother's side) remarked that zombies must love pregnant chics because it's like an appetizer and an entree (ha!). Stockpile birth control, peeps. It was an awesome conversation.
As you can see, zombies are a BIG DEAL for me. So much so that I once drove from Central Jersey to Albany to see the opening of Dawn of the Dead with my fabulous Cognitive Scientist friend, who loves zombies as much as I do. So when AMC started making The Walking Dead really the only bad thing was that Season 1 was only 6 episodes long. (Luckily Season 2 is contracted for 13 episodes.)
Ittttttt'sssss baaaaaaa-aaaack! Yay, Walking Dead! Honestly, it's not just that I love zombies so much, though I do. It's also that nothing on TV is as well done as this show. My love for the West Wing still knows no bounds. But it ended 5 years ago, and though I mourn the loss, we all have to move on. Don't get me wrong, I like me some bad reality TV from time to time, and I watch a couple of other shows when I can keep up, but, this show, mmmmm. This show is produced at the level of a movie, which really shouldn't be surprising given that Frank Darabont is writing and producing most episodes, and he was hugely influential in the writing and direction of my favorite movie of all time. This show is moving, emotional, a heart-racing thriller, and an unrelenting exploration of humanity's highs and lows. We loves it, precious.
In honor of tonight's important event, I re-watched the last season, talked my mom into watching Season 1 (after informing her that, no, there would not be any dragons, and yes, she would have to endure some gritty plots, some complicated characters, and yes, some gore), and I plan to celebrate with some popcorn. I know that popcorn is a dangerous food for me, but I'd like to believe I can have foods that I like and not descend into mindless eating. I am not a zombie, after all. So, we'll see if I can enjoy zombies without becoming an undead-like-eater on my couch. I've been on my new eating plan for 5 days, and am feeling like I have some idea of how to fit foods in, and how to eat them in moderation. I won't know for sure how I handle this until I try it, so I have to try it. I can't let the zombies do all the eating, eh?
In other news, today is a real occasion. Someone whom I love very much turns 30. Welcome to the next decade, dude. I love you and hope this next year is everything you want and need it to be.
------------------------------------
Post Script - it has been suggested that I "tossed off" comments about The West Wing. Let me be clear. My love for the this show is unending. I feel the work the cast, crew and writers did in this show shattered the supposed limits of TV. It elevated television based drama to a new level, it changed the conversation about politics, at least in my circle, and it educated me. At turns, it amused me, devastated me, and taught me; sometimes all in the same episode (this episode is a particularly good example of that special blend of humor, drama, and information). I was hooked on this show within two episodes. I wrote my same fabulous Cognitive Scientist friend after he sent me a video with the same two episodes and said, "Damn you! Now I'm hooked on this show and don't have cable!" I love, love, love The West Wing. I miss, miss, miss The West Wing. What is important to note is that I have been interested in TV since then but never until The Walking Dead did I have anything that came close. Thank god someone finally found the right cast, with the right story line otherwise I might've sank beneath the weight of bad hospital shows!
I know I have mentioned my love of zombies before, but I don't think I've explained why zombies cause me to grow as excited as small children get around bowls of chocolate. (In fact, all of my food addictions and love of carbs aside, I would rather watch zombies than eat a magical bowl of delicious and yet calorie free chocolate)
Zombies quite simply, are phenomenally fascinating. Of course, there is something kind of supernatural about them, but they aren't all airbrushed and pretend-sexy-scary like the vampires. You know what I'm talking about. (That fakeness and feeling of being in a magazine shoot doesn't do it for me.) And yet, zombies are the dead become undead. How beautifully brill.
They're gross and gory, so there's a lot of adrenaline involved in watching them. And while all of that is great, what is even better is the cognitive paradox they represent. Depending on which movie or show you're watching, there are fast zombies or slow zombies. Some zombies can climb, and some cannot. Some zombies have the presence to pursue or chase, and some can't. But they all share one important trait: they are mindless. Not brain-less, but mindless. They can't remember their name, speak, or formulate a plan more complicated than a goldfish would make. But they're still moving. And eating. Well, they're eating whenever they can get their hands on some flesh. (eeeeeeeeeeeeee!)
Zombies are one of the clearest ways to illustrate the important distinction that cognitive scientists make between the brain and the mind. The brain is an organ that but the mind is the living computer that allows us to make complex calculations, learn, and distinguishes us from other species. I sometimes describe this difference as the brain being the wet and mushy stuff in our skull that does biological stuff and the mind being the tool that allows us to figure shit out via sophisticated processing. But my wonderful Cognitive Scientist friend boiled it down much more elegantly: the brain is what zombies want to eat, while the mind is what they lack.
And yet, do you know how to kill the undead?
Yes, that's right. The way to stop a zombie for good is to cause a serious, often severing, brain trauma. Shot to the head, decapitation, baseball bat repeatedly sunk into the forehead. What an awesome paradox for someone as nerdy as me.
I also have a hankering to be entertained by "end of the world" stories. Stephen King's The Stand, yep, read it three times. Disease outbreaks sweeping the planet? I'm there. Giant meteorite, sign me up. One of my best birthdays was when a friend took me out for dinner, and then we went to see, The day after tomorrow. It. was. awful. I mean - awesome. It was awfesome. Aliens, disease, famine, force of nature, government conspiracy, I enjoy them all. I love the end of the world because the story isn't just about the apocalypse, but also about the people left, their survival and whether or not the better angels of their nature prevail.
For me, zombies are the best, most entertaining example of this. Someone asked me once if my excitement and deep knowledge of zombies came from a real fear and belief that the zombie apocalypse might happen. Umm, no. I think zombies are a Hollywood way of saying, "We fear ourselves." But, for me, the stories that seem to really stick with me are the ones that really focus on the survivors and the difficult and dark places that decisions and morality go, but also the beautiful and uplifting examples of people trying not to lose their humanity. Nothing seems to bring this out for me quite as memorably or heart-tuggingly than the juxtaposition of people trying to make it while trying to survive the uprising of former-and-now-flesh-eating-people.
My love of zombies goes deep enough to have put serious thought into how they can function biologically but not have mind. I once spent an entire weekend writing down theories about how different agents/events could cause zombies and selectively strike their mind, but spare their brain. Yes, I am that much of a geek, and a zombie enthusiast. I had some pretty good theories too, and found out, with not that much work, that there have been "scholarly" publications about the cognition of zombies. Ahh, academia, how I love thee.
I also have spent a lot of time thinking about survival in the zombie apocalypse. I didn't realize how well formulated my plans were until last spring when my cousin posted something on Facebook. He asked if it would be ok to leave somebody behind in a zombie apocalypse, if it meant saving yourself. I answered that that question had more than moral overtones. Of course, morally speaking, it would be hard to sleep at night if you left your friend to be munched on (though with zombies on the loose it would probably be hard to sleep at night anyways), but there's a more important and less altruistic thing to consider: surviving the first wave of the apocalypse usually depends a lot on luck, location, and timing. But surviving the second wave is almost always dictated by things beyond luck such as having more of something - shelter, food, fuel, people. So, save people!!! What followed was a rolling Facebook conversation between me, my friends, my cousin, and my cousin's friends about how to survive zombies. We discussed optimal locations (remote mountains, warehouses, and army installations were most mentioned), how to gather food (don't forget water! Very important!), the best modes of transportation (horses are great for all terrain, but not for escaping hordes of flesh eating undead. Tanks are awesome for driving over the masses of zombies, but not so good if you want to be somewhere remote. Motorcycles . . . have a lot of maneuvering pros, but a lot of vulnerability cons. My mother suggests a dragon. Yes, A DRAGON.), and some other items. I raised the point that after civilization dies other problems arise. Simple things become less simple, such as common illnesses and appendicitis. It's important to stockpile medication and find someone who can act as a doctor. Also, people seem to like to get it on at the end of the world, and when running for your lives from zombies is not the ideal time to be knocked up. One of my other cousins (we have 19 first cousins on my mother's side) remarked that zombies must love pregnant chics because it's like an appetizer and an entree (ha!). Stockpile birth control, peeps. It was an awesome conversation.
As you can see, zombies are a BIG DEAL for me. So much so that I once drove from Central Jersey to Albany to see the opening of Dawn of the Dead with my fabulous Cognitive Scientist friend, who loves zombies as much as I do. So when AMC started making The Walking Dead really the only bad thing was that Season 1 was only 6 episodes long. (Luckily Season 2 is contracted for 13 episodes.)
Ittttttt'sssss baaaaaaa-aaaack! Yay, Walking Dead! Honestly, it's not just that I love zombies so much, though I do. It's also that nothing on TV is as well done as this show. My love for the West Wing still knows no bounds. But it ended 5 years ago, and though I mourn the loss, we all have to move on. Don't get me wrong, I like me some bad reality TV from time to time, and I watch a couple of other shows when I can keep up, but, this show, mmmmm. This show is produced at the level of a movie, which really shouldn't be surprising given that Frank Darabont is writing and producing most episodes, and he was hugely influential in the writing and direction of my favorite movie of all time. This show is moving, emotional, a heart-racing thriller, and an unrelenting exploration of humanity's highs and lows. We loves it, precious.
In honor of tonight's important event, I re-watched the last season, talked my mom into watching Season 1 (after informing her that, no, there would not be any dragons, and yes, she would have to endure some gritty plots, some complicated characters, and yes, some gore), and I plan to celebrate with some popcorn. I know that popcorn is a dangerous food for me, but I'd like to believe I can have foods that I like and not descend into mindless eating. I am not a zombie, after all. So, we'll see if I can enjoy zombies without becoming an undead-like-eater on my couch. I've been on my new eating plan for 5 days, and am feeling like I have some idea of how to fit foods in, and how to eat them in moderation. I won't know for sure how I handle this until I try it, so I have to try it. I can't let the zombies do all the eating, eh?
In other news, today is a real occasion. Someone whom I love very much turns 30. Welcome to the next decade, dude. I love you and hope this next year is everything you want and need it to be.
------------------------------------
Post Script - it has been suggested that I "tossed off" comments about The West Wing. Let me be clear. My love for the this show is unending. I feel the work the cast, crew and writers did in this show shattered the supposed limits of TV. It elevated television based drama to a new level, it changed the conversation about politics, at least in my circle, and it educated me. At turns, it amused me, devastated me, and taught me; sometimes all in the same episode (this episode is a particularly good example of that special blend of humor, drama, and information). I was hooked on this show within two episodes. I wrote my same fabulous Cognitive Scientist friend after he sent me a video with the same two episodes and said, "Damn you! Now I'm hooked on this show and don't have cable!" I love, love, love The West Wing. I miss, miss, miss The West Wing. What is important to note is that I have been interested in TV since then but never until The Walking Dead did I have anything that came close. Thank god someone finally found the right cast, with the right story line otherwise I might've sank beneath the weight of bad hospital shows!
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Calling myself out
Ok, I started this in part to keep myself accountable. So, now I have to do that.
That means admitting I've been off the proverbial wagon for the last seven days. It's hard to admit this, because it means admitting the bad choices I've made, and the fact that I knew they weren't the most helpful choices as I was making them. It's not like I can say, "What?! I had no idea that it was a bad plan to eat that cake!"
I needed things I wasn't getting, so I put other things in place that were not what I needed but made it seem like I was getting by. I loved my friends' visit, but of course being "on vacay" or having people visit from out of town often means eating out. Still, though, while there were some extravagances during their visit (most notably more alcohol than I generally do, risotto, some apple cake - delish by the way - and some self-serve fro-yo) there was also a lot of vegetables, a lovely salad lunch, and some exercise. What really was caused me to fall over the edge was not their visit or my semi-vacation eating, but instead all the things leading up to it. If anything, the semi-vacation time in my own city brought some balance back to "the force."
See, September put me on the road every day but three, and it wasn't good for me. I needed more time, more support in my work and personal life, more practical help from my office, more sleep, a more solid plan to eat well and exercise, and some downtime so that I could process, think, and set myself up to make good decisions. What I got was an average of 5 hours of sleep a night, the need to do all of my cooking in two hours a week, having to make myself go to the gym after 9pm and after 10-14 hour work days, eating in the car, and working longer and longer hours and falling more and more behind on administrative office work. I got a lot of tired, a lot of unanswered personal and professional questions, and a lot of pressure to do and be more.
I am glad to report that I missed only two of my workout assignments from my trainer in September, and worked really hard for all of the days September, to eat healthy. I walked in the mornings, though the beginning of the end of my commitment was when I stopped getting up at 6am to do that regularly. I ate a lot of healthy food, but the FRED voices worked their way in. I was tired and stressed out pretty much every day, all day and there was a stress toll paid as well. I've noticed that FRED has a lot less to do with bad food being present, and a lot more to do with addictive eating, emotional or stress eating. FRED has almost nothing to do with being hungry, but for sure being tired is a big predictor of what I will hear loudest inside my head.Yes, that's right . . . like a schizophrenic, something I'm starting to learn about myself is that there are some internal voices I need to make friends with; those that ell me it's a good idea to have the whole box of Cheezits, as well as those that clamor for kale salad and chicken breast.
It started so innocently. I baked some gluten free pumpkin bread for my singing class. I didn't intend to eat it, but to give it away. But then my class was canceled and I had a serious carb (with chocolate!) on my hands. I had a few pieces and then decided it was wiser to throw it out than keep it. Good job, Christie, good job.
Then the next week I had done 10 hours of working out, and I needed to add a couple of hundred calories to my day - pizza. A week later, I had joked with my boyfriend about cheese fries and he showed up with them. None of these things derailed my results, so it was easy to treat them as isolated incidents, instead of a pattern. Looking back though, there was a result I hadn't taken into account - how I felt about what I was doing, and an erosion to my resolve and my choices. Pumpkin bread, pizza, and cheese fries became sandwiches, a cookie, and a scone. And soon, September ended and I was tossed into a two day conference in October. Have you been to one of these things? It's food allllll dayyyyy loooooooong. It's also a sit-fest and an expectation to be professionally "on" all day, up to 10 hours, and then still somehow make up for the phone calls and emails that have been missed afterwords. I found myself in a hotel, not all that far from home, but it might as well have been in Srilanka for as far away as I felt from the semblance of eating-and-exercising routine I had established. We were at breakfast at 7:30-8, in workshops from 8-5:30, and then had networking sessions. I wasn't obligated to be at the networking sessions, but with as many people as I'd been in small group exercises with, and as many people there from my company, it would have been rude not to go.
My first day at the workshop went like this:
7:30 Breakfast of fruit and bagel. I swear, that was the healthiest choice
10 Snack - the same foods as offered at breakfast plus a rack of chips
1 Lunch - I ate salad because it was the best choice, but there were no protein sources I felt comfortable with so I knew I would be hungry in the afternoon . . . damn.
3ish Snack - chips, veggies and dip, candy bars, ice cream offered. I had veggies and dip and Smartfood popcorn. I was really hungry from lunch. I stared down the candy bars . . . it was hard to walk away.
5:30 Our cocktail hour and networking session. Beer,well drinks, wine, sushi that I couldn't eat because it had mayo in it (you really don't want to know how much I hate mayonnaise. Trust me), fried spring rolls, fried cheese, cheese and crackers, veggies and dip, meat I couldn't make myself eat because I didn't know where it came from, and a whole mess of desserts. I had two beers, three pieces of cheese, veggies and dip, and one tiny fried spring roll. So, I knew I was still hungry.
7:30 I knew I was in trouble when I headed into my "make-up work" session. I grabbed an apple, a bottle of water, and headed for the lounge hoping to scoop some wifi and knock out some emails. What a mistake. It became social time as more and more people joined us, and while I loved it, after that day, it was hard not to have a couple more beers, snack on some calamari . . . oy.
Going into the second day, it got harder and harder to stare down the chips and candy bars, and I won some of the battles, but not all of them. And so I began to feel I was losing the war. That's the mentality I carried with me going into picking my friends and being in the mode to enjoy their visit and my time off. Do you see how a few pebbles can so easily become a landslide?
I feel like the J.K. Rowling quote becomes my life when I look at these patterns and what it will take to break them. "Constant Vigilance!"
So, I began calling myself out while my friends were here and mentioning why yes, I do very much want dessert, but I'm putting fruit on my fro yo. Or, I'm aiming for more vegetables today. Or, i really need to work some exercise in. Not perfect, but looking for that balance in enjoying myself and living life and also not going hog wild at the trough.
I hadn't really planned it this way, but when I made my appointment with the nutritionist I made it for 3 hours directly after leaving my friends (with lots of hugs, gratitude, and love) at the airport. It was kind of perfect. (it is moments like these that I really think things happen for a reason.
Several people commented, "After all of your self education about your medical conditions and carbs and food do you really think she can tel you anything you don't know?" I went in there with the attitude of, "For me to get better results, I have to consider that either I don't know everything or that I do know things but haven't been accountable to that knowledge." It was my plan to challenge this woman to give me my money's worth by helping me come up with some systems of accountability and some ways to really get the kind of results that are realistic but also keep me motivated. We worked very hard with a lot of information to plan what we felt was doable, what my body can handle without faking itself out, and what allows me to still live my life - a lifestyle that we had to frankly acknowledge does not make it easy for me to get big results.
I did hear a lot of things that were news to me, and I heard things that helped me or taught me something new. More on that in coming entries, but for now, a renewed sense of what I'm tackling, my goals, and a better map of how to walk that road.
Best of all, when she wanted to weigh me, we had a very hard discussion where I said, "I'm normally fine with stepping on the scale, but it's been a week of eating off of my plan and not exercising as much. I'm not sure I want to weigh today." she gently said, "We will have a much better idea of what is working if we can track the change on my scale each time you come in." Like the giant nerd that I am, I said, "I can get behind looking at the delta, not the number." As we walked over to the scale she said, "We're not going to marry this number, we're just going to meet it."I liked that. I'm not married to this number, I'm just using it for tracking purposes. I liked even better to find that I had only gained 2.5 pounds. I hate that I gained since my body is such a fighter when it comes to letting go of the weight, so I know mow much time it takes to take off 2.5 pounds. i like that my hard week doesn't mean I am a total failure or have completely backslid.
It's an important lesson to me - accountability is important, and something I continue to need to work towards, but life also happens and I need to know that not every week can be a perfect week. Better even than that, I need to plan that when things aren't perfect, I need to not let it continue to roll out of control. But, like many things, I can't see it clearly inside of it . . . what felt like certain doom to me, was actually 2.5 pounds and a roller-coaster week where what I saw was the cake, the waffles, the ravioli and risotto, the for yo, and the little tastes of chocolate. What I didn't account for was the best run of my life, a hike, a lot of "out-and-about" walking, and some choices that were amazing! I ate vegetables at the conference snack, not ice cream! I made sure we had three servings of vegetables at our dinner party!
So, I'm calling myself out for not logging my food last week, I'm calling myself out for not making time for myself at that conference, because really, 10 hours of work should've been enough so running and giving myself an hour was more than reasonable. I'm calling myself out for the things I ate that were just ridiculous. Not the ravioli. Not the risotto. But things like the fried spring roll and the candy bar. Just unnecessary. (Some of the other choices were good food, made in good ways, just food that happens to be a little carbier than is optimal on a regular basis. Fried food and processed candy, not so much.) But I'm also calling myself out for being so hard on myself that one error feels like the end, because that is likely where the crack in the foundation formed causing things to fall down a bit.
So, I'm back, and I'm ready to make the rest of this month be about what this should be about: accountability, and a goal to take care of myself, not to beat myself into the ground. Off to finish all of my doctor's appointments (I hope) for the rest of the year!
That means admitting I've been off the proverbial wagon for the last seven days. It's hard to admit this, because it means admitting the bad choices I've made, and the fact that I knew they weren't the most helpful choices as I was making them. It's not like I can say, "What?! I had no idea that it was a bad plan to eat that cake!"
I needed things I wasn't getting, so I put other things in place that were not what I needed but made it seem like I was getting by. I loved my friends' visit, but of course being "on vacay" or having people visit from out of town often means eating out. Still, though, while there were some extravagances during their visit (most notably more alcohol than I generally do, risotto, some apple cake - delish by the way - and some self-serve fro-yo) there was also a lot of vegetables, a lovely salad lunch, and some exercise. What really was caused me to fall over the edge was not their visit or my semi-vacation eating, but instead all the things leading up to it. If anything, the semi-vacation time in my own city brought some balance back to "the force."
See, September put me on the road every day but three, and it wasn't good for me. I needed more time, more support in my work and personal life, more practical help from my office, more sleep, a more solid plan to eat well and exercise, and some downtime so that I could process, think, and set myself up to make good decisions. What I got was an average of 5 hours of sleep a night, the need to do all of my cooking in two hours a week, having to make myself go to the gym after 9pm and after 10-14 hour work days, eating in the car, and working longer and longer hours and falling more and more behind on administrative office work. I got a lot of tired, a lot of unanswered personal and professional questions, and a lot of pressure to do and be more.
I am glad to report that I missed only two of my workout assignments from my trainer in September, and worked really hard for all of the days September, to eat healthy. I walked in the mornings, though the beginning of the end of my commitment was when I stopped getting up at 6am to do that regularly. I ate a lot of healthy food, but the FRED voices worked their way in. I was tired and stressed out pretty much every day, all day and there was a stress toll paid as well. I've noticed that FRED has a lot less to do with bad food being present, and a lot more to do with addictive eating, emotional or stress eating. FRED has almost nothing to do with being hungry, but for sure being tired is a big predictor of what I will hear loudest inside my head.Yes, that's right . . . like a schizophrenic, something I'm starting to learn about myself is that there are some internal voices I need to make friends with; those that ell me it's a good idea to have the whole box of Cheezits, as well as those that clamor for kale salad and chicken breast.
It started so innocently. I baked some gluten free pumpkin bread for my singing class. I didn't intend to eat it, but to give it away. But then my class was canceled and I had a serious carb (with chocolate!) on my hands. I had a few pieces and then decided it was wiser to throw it out than keep it. Good job, Christie, good job.
Then the next week I had done 10 hours of working out, and I needed to add a couple of hundred calories to my day - pizza. A week later, I had joked with my boyfriend about cheese fries and he showed up with them. None of these things derailed my results, so it was easy to treat them as isolated incidents, instead of a pattern. Looking back though, there was a result I hadn't taken into account - how I felt about what I was doing, and an erosion to my resolve and my choices. Pumpkin bread, pizza, and cheese fries became sandwiches, a cookie, and a scone. And soon, September ended and I was tossed into a two day conference in October. Have you been to one of these things? It's food allllll dayyyyy loooooooong. It's also a sit-fest and an expectation to be professionally "on" all day, up to 10 hours, and then still somehow make up for the phone calls and emails that have been missed afterwords. I found myself in a hotel, not all that far from home, but it might as well have been in Srilanka for as far away as I felt from the semblance of eating-and-exercising routine I had established. We were at breakfast at 7:30-8, in workshops from 8-5:30, and then had networking sessions. I wasn't obligated to be at the networking sessions, but with as many people as I'd been in small group exercises with, and as many people there from my company, it would have been rude not to go.
My first day at the workshop went like this:
7:30 Breakfast of fruit and bagel. I swear, that was the healthiest choice
10 Snack - the same foods as offered at breakfast plus a rack of chips
1 Lunch - I ate salad because it was the best choice, but there were no protein sources I felt comfortable with so I knew I would be hungry in the afternoon . . . damn.
3ish Snack - chips, veggies and dip, candy bars, ice cream offered. I had veggies and dip and Smartfood popcorn. I was really hungry from lunch. I stared down the candy bars . . . it was hard to walk away.
5:30 Our cocktail hour and networking session. Beer,well drinks, wine, sushi that I couldn't eat because it had mayo in it (you really don't want to know how much I hate mayonnaise. Trust me), fried spring rolls, fried cheese, cheese and crackers, veggies and dip, meat I couldn't make myself eat because I didn't know where it came from, and a whole mess of desserts. I had two beers, three pieces of cheese, veggies and dip, and one tiny fried spring roll. So, I knew I was still hungry.
7:30 I knew I was in trouble when I headed into my "make-up work" session. I grabbed an apple, a bottle of water, and headed for the lounge hoping to scoop some wifi and knock out some emails. What a mistake. It became social time as more and more people joined us, and while I loved it, after that day, it was hard not to have a couple more beers, snack on some calamari . . . oy.
Going into the second day, it got harder and harder to stare down the chips and candy bars, and I won some of the battles, but not all of them. And so I began to feel I was losing the war. That's the mentality I carried with me going into picking my friends and being in the mode to enjoy their visit and my time off. Do you see how a few pebbles can so easily become a landslide?
I feel like the J.K. Rowling quote becomes my life when I look at these patterns and what it will take to break them. "Constant Vigilance!"
So, I began calling myself out while my friends were here and mentioning why yes, I do very much want dessert, but I'm putting fruit on my fro yo. Or, I'm aiming for more vegetables today. Or, i really need to work some exercise in. Not perfect, but looking for that balance in enjoying myself and living life and also not going hog wild at the trough.
I hadn't really planned it this way, but when I made my appointment with the nutritionist I made it for 3 hours directly after leaving my friends (with lots of hugs, gratitude, and love) at the airport. It was kind of perfect. (it is moments like these that I really think things happen for a reason.
Several people commented, "After all of your self education about your medical conditions and carbs and food do you really think she can tel you anything you don't know?" I went in there with the attitude of, "For me to get better results, I have to consider that either I don't know everything or that I do know things but haven't been accountable to that knowledge." It was my plan to challenge this woman to give me my money's worth by helping me come up with some systems of accountability and some ways to really get the kind of results that are realistic but also keep me motivated. We worked very hard with a lot of information to plan what we felt was doable, what my body can handle without faking itself out, and what allows me to still live my life - a lifestyle that we had to frankly acknowledge does not make it easy for me to get big results.
I did hear a lot of things that were news to me, and I heard things that helped me or taught me something new. More on that in coming entries, but for now, a renewed sense of what I'm tackling, my goals, and a better map of how to walk that road.
Best of all, when she wanted to weigh me, we had a very hard discussion where I said, "I'm normally fine with stepping on the scale, but it's been a week of eating off of my plan and not exercising as much. I'm not sure I want to weigh today." she gently said, "We will have a much better idea of what is working if we can track the change on my scale each time you come in." Like the giant nerd that I am, I said, "I can get behind looking at the delta, not the number." As we walked over to the scale she said, "We're not going to marry this number, we're just going to meet it."I liked that. I'm not married to this number, I'm just using it for tracking purposes. I liked even better to find that I had only gained 2.5 pounds. I hate that I gained since my body is such a fighter when it comes to letting go of the weight, so I know mow much time it takes to take off 2.5 pounds. i like that my hard week doesn't mean I am a total failure or have completely backslid.
It's an important lesson to me - accountability is important, and something I continue to need to work towards, but life also happens and I need to know that not every week can be a perfect week. Better even than that, I need to plan that when things aren't perfect, I need to not let it continue to roll out of control. But, like many things, I can't see it clearly inside of it . . . what felt like certain doom to me, was actually 2.5 pounds and a roller-coaster week where what I saw was the cake, the waffles, the ravioli and risotto, the for yo, and the little tastes of chocolate. What I didn't account for was the best run of my life, a hike, a lot of "out-and-about" walking, and some choices that were amazing! I ate vegetables at the conference snack, not ice cream! I made sure we had three servings of vegetables at our dinner party!
So, I'm calling myself out for not logging my food last week, I'm calling myself out for not making time for myself at that conference, because really, 10 hours of work should've been enough so running and giving myself an hour was more than reasonable. I'm calling myself out for the things I ate that were just ridiculous. Not the ravioli. Not the risotto. But things like the fried spring roll and the candy bar. Just unnecessary. (Some of the other choices were good food, made in good ways, just food that happens to be a little carbier than is optimal on a regular basis. Fried food and processed candy, not so much.) But I'm also calling myself out for being so hard on myself that one error feels like the end, because that is likely where the crack in the foundation formed causing things to fall down a bit.
So, I'm back, and I'm ready to make the rest of this month be about what this should be about: accountability, and a goal to take care of myself, not to beat myself into the ground. Off to finish all of my doctor's appointments (I hope) for the rest of the year!
Sunday, October 9, 2011
The importance of being LAZY
Laziness is the oft overlooked key to balance. Laziness allows people to rest, to process, and to enjoy one another. Laziness is one of my best skills, and the best way to spend three day weekends. Yet, laziness is the thing I tend to overlook when planning fun.
I once had an amazing vacation with a wonderfully good friend. Here is what we did: we met at my home in NJ and drove to the town 45 minutes outside of the lake area we would be staying at. We bought liquor and groceries. We each had packed games, books, and DVDs. We then continued driving, arriving at the vacation home we were borrowing. Here's what we did not do: plan anything beyond which groceries to purchase. What followed was an amazing week where I would wake up between 7 and 9am and read. He would wake up around 9-10am, making is way out to the great room some thirty minutes later. Without ever discussing it, it became our habit to play dominoes or SET (live, not online) while eating a simple breakfast of fruit, cereal and/or yogurt. Then he would go to read or nap while I went to swim or walk. I would arrive back at the house and quietly grab a snack, clean up, and sit out on the porch with a book or journal, sometimes doing nothing more interesting than staring at the leaves. Then we would reconvene (again, with no discussion or plan, just a natural sense of the rhythm) and drink, talk, cook dinner (generally LESS simple fare as we both were itching to cook for the other), and watch 2, or if it was a particularly ambitious evening, three movies while doing a few shots. There was a lot of deep discussion and a lot of laughter. It was one of the best respites of my life, and the time I felt closest to that friend. I have had wonderful vacations since then, but never have I felt that completely rested again.
Now, however, when people visit (or if I'm being very honest, in the 6 weeks before anyone visits; why yes, I am a type-A planner, thanks for asking.) I find myself making lists of where to eat, what to see, and what we will do. This visit, by two of my oldest and dearest friends, has been no exception. I wanted to hike, and that was thwarted, so we replaced that with happy-hour-hopping with one of my awesomest friends who is here in Boulder. We three planned a dinner party (which included lentil soup, kale salad, green beans with roasted garlic, homemade butternut squash ravioli with brown butter and sage sauce, a corn bread and rosemary encrusted pork loin, and a homemade apple cake . . . so, you know, a nice easy meal to prepare), made sure to see some of their family, some natural beauty, and some touristy wonders, and have gone for a run. Today was supposed to be another run, some time in town, and another dinner. This is similar to most of the time I have taken off in the last two years, whether it be for a visit to someone else, or the happy occasion of someone coming to visit me. Run around, eat, see this, see that, eat, see something else, do something cultural or touristy, eat again, get in some exercise, see or do something local, and did I mention eat?
It was kind of a relief when my best, best friend, and the only person to know me for so long that the time is measured in decades, not years, woke up and crawled into bed and said, "Maybe we could just skip the run and make a big breakfast instead." When I spend time with him and his husband, it is usually at their house and there is usually a great deal of cooking, but also a great deal of quiet, chilling out time. It's strange that I didn't think of that as part of the recipe when they were coming here. (Though of course, recipes and ingredients were key for the day o' cooking we had on Friday. and can be passed along to others by request.)
I don't advocate lying around and doing nothing if it means lapsing into a regular habit of failing to get things done at work, or in ones' personal life. It would be a bad result if this idea of needing to rest meant that the laundry never got done, or that colleagues at work felt I was unreliable. In my case, the greater danger is if laziness turns to inertia when it comes to exercise. That quickly leads to a lack of motivation to work on my fitness, and that quickly cascades into apathy about preparing food, which in turn triggers eating less healthy, which then makes it impossible to fight off the voices that call on me to eat things that are just ridiculous . . . whole boxes of Cheezits, three slices of cake, frozen pizzas, etc. But on the other hand, what I learned from the non-stop pace of September is that if there is no break, sooner or later, the system of working hard and working out hard gives way under the strain. Once the wheels come off the cart, it's impossible to steer it to a gentle stop.
It's hard to know what to do about this. Essentially what I'm saying is that I need to find balance within my approach to find balance. I need to locate the balance, but not lose perspective and homeostasis between rest and seeking as I look for the end point. I don't want to leave rest out of the picture, but I know that spending too much time inactive and without purpose is dangerous. So, as I seek the place where those pieces are all accounted for and snapped into the puzzle, I need to both work hard, and rest deeply.
It's hard to know how to get to a place you've never been to. I've never had a lifestyle that meant I could workout the 8-10 hours a week I need in order to lose weight, while also having the 2-5 hours a week for fresh food preparation, and being able to get 6-8 hours of sleep, some quiet time to just be, either with myself or with people who help me feel like my best self. I've never had that. In fact, I generally only have that for 3-6 days at a time when I visit these two friends in Boston.
It is a wonderful and lovely gift that they came here to visit me, and to see the life I have made for myself here, through a lot more hurdles than I bargained for when I first conceived of this move. It is even more significant that they brought with them, without perhaps knowing it, the very timely reminder that rest is not an indication that I'm not serious about my work, my endeavors to work on myself, or my life.
The trick of laziness for me, personally, is to be lazy enough to re-charge, but not so lazy that it becomes a slippery slope or a hole I feel I can't get out of. (Remember how tricky holes are for me?) The careful work of making lazy exist in correct proportion to fun and activity when creating good times with other people always involves two important things: communication and flexibility. I have the one in spades and pretend that that makes up for the dearth of the other (blush).
In fact, as I was writing the first draft of this post, we were all enjoying the post-waffle glow and slowly making our way through showers, second cups of coffee, checking email, and all the other hazy to-do items that are so much more pleasant when done slowly, among good company, and langourously. As I was typing, a voice piped up over the music and clack of keyboard saying, "Ummmm, so, are we taking a walk downtown? And are we still talking about a hike?" It was a reminder to me that while sitting around un-make-upped and deep in thought was perfect for me at 1pm, that for others, the lazy quota was full.
So, we did hike (finally! Redeemed from the thwarted hike of Thursday), saw great views of Boulder and of the Flatirons, and then headed downtown for some of what I think of as quintessential Boulder: Pearl Street Mall and dinner at Mountain Sun. Then finishing the day off with some self-serve frozen yogurt (which is fast becoming deeply associated with Boulder since we now have four of these locations, rivaling our number of Whole Foods groceries) (ummm, also, I know it's bad form to have two parenthesis, but I cannot mention Whole Foods without mentioning the totally brilliant youtube vid about the Whole Foods Parking lot. It really reaches it's apex when he rhymes "bra" with "quinoa." ), chat, and the bi-annual music exchange.
I say this whenever I am on vacay, but it really strikes me that when I walk more, eat less (but what I want), sleep enough, laugh more than enough, have a few drinks, and have positive human contact, life seems much more doable to me. I sometimes make pledges on vacation and say that I will find ways for there to be, "more gin! more pedicures!" and then it never works once I'm back in the thick of things. The pendulum swings hard to the right, and I become a worker bee. Then the pendulum swings far to the left, and I crash. Vacation, time with friends, that's the only middle ground. I also have the opportunity, as I happened this morning, to have this imbalance modulated not just by my own motivation, but by the needs, wants, and suggestions of others. So, my pledge is this, I will try to have some balance as I seek more balance so that there is laughter, sleep, and some time for laziness.
Thanks to my friends for coming, for loving me, for putting up with my ridiculous need to plan everything and the difficulty with which I part with those plans, and for understanding that I rarely find the middle ground between lazy and busy. It's quite something for the two of them to have known me this long and still like me this much . . . farewell, you two, see you for some more epic cooking and relaxation over New Years!
I once had an amazing vacation with a wonderfully good friend. Here is what we did: we met at my home in NJ and drove to the town 45 minutes outside of the lake area we would be staying at. We bought liquor and groceries. We each had packed games, books, and DVDs. We then continued driving, arriving at the vacation home we were borrowing. Here's what we did not do: plan anything beyond which groceries to purchase. What followed was an amazing week where I would wake up between 7 and 9am and read. He would wake up around 9-10am, making is way out to the great room some thirty minutes later. Without ever discussing it, it became our habit to play dominoes or SET (live, not online) while eating a simple breakfast of fruit, cereal and/or yogurt. Then he would go to read or nap while I went to swim or walk. I would arrive back at the house and quietly grab a snack, clean up, and sit out on the porch with a book or journal, sometimes doing nothing more interesting than staring at the leaves. Then we would reconvene (again, with no discussion or plan, just a natural sense of the rhythm) and drink, talk, cook dinner (generally LESS simple fare as we both were itching to cook for the other), and watch 2, or if it was a particularly ambitious evening, three movies while doing a few shots. There was a lot of deep discussion and a lot of laughter. It was one of the best respites of my life, and the time I felt closest to that friend. I have had wonderful vacations since then, but never have I felt that completely rested again.
Now, however, when people visit (or if I'm being very honest, in the 6 weeks before anyone visits; why yes, I am a type-A planner, thanks for asking.) I find myself making lists of where to eat, what to see, and what we will do. This visit, by two of my oldest and dearest friends, has been no exception. I wanted to hike, and that was thwarted, so we replaced that with happy-hour-hopping with one of my awesomest friends who is here in Boulder. We three planned a dinner party (which included lentil soup, kale salad, green beans with roasted garlic, homemade butternut squash ravioli with brown butter and sage sauce, a corn bread and rosemary encrusted pork loin, and a homemade apple cake . . . so, you know, a nice easy meal to prepare), made sure to see some of their family, some natural beauty, and some touristy wonders, and have gone for a run. Today was supposed to be another run, some time in town, and another dinner. This is similar to most of the time I have taken off in the last two years, whether it be for a visit to someone else, or the happy occasion of someone coming to visit me. Run around, eat, see this, see that, eat, see something else, do something cultural or touristy, eat again, get in some exercise, see or do something local, and did I mention eat?
It was kind of a relief when my best, best friend, and the only person to know me for so long that the time is measured in decades, not years, woke up and crawled into bed and said, "Maybe we could just skip the run and make a big breakfast instead." When I spend time with him and his husband, it is usually at their house and there is usually a great deal of cooking, but also a great deal of quiet, chilling out time. It's strange that I didn't think of that as part of the recipe when they were coming here. (Though of course, recipes and ingredients were key for the day o' cooking we had on Friday. and can be passed along to others by request.)
I don't advocate lying around and doing nothing if it means lapsing into a regular habit of failing to get things done at work, or in ones' personal life. It would be a bad result if this idea of needing to rest meant that the laundry never got done, or that colleagues at work felt I was unreliable. In my case, the greater danger is if laziness turns to inertia when it comes to exercise. That quickly leads to a lack of motivation to work on my fitness, and that quickly cascades into apathy about preparing food, which in turn triggers eating less healthy, which then makes it impossible to fight off the voices that call on me to eat things that are just ridiculous . . . whole boxes of Cheezits, three slices of cake, frozen pizzas, etc. But on the other hand, what I learned from the non-stop pace of September is that if there is no break, sooner or later, the system of working hard and working out hard gives way under the strain. Once the wheels come off the cart, it's impossible to steer it to a gentle stop.
It's hard to know what to do about this. Essentially what I'm saying is that I need to find balance within my approach to find balance. I need to locate the balance, but not lose perspective and homeostasis between rest and seeking as I look for the end point. I don't want to leave rest out of the picture, but I know that spending too much time inactive and without purpose is dangerous. So, as I seek the place where those pieces are all accounted for and snapped into the puzzle, I need to both work hard, and rest deeply.
It's hard to know how to get to a place you've never been to. I've never had a lifestyle that meant I could workout the 8-10 hours a week I need in order to lose weight, while also having the 2-5 hours a week for fresh food preparation, and being able to get 6-8 hours of sleep, some quiet time to just be, either with myself or with people who help me feel like my best self. I've never had that. In fact, I generally only have that for 3-6 days at a time when I visit these two friends in Boston.
It is a wonderful and lovely gift that they came here to visit me, and to see the life I have made for myself here, through a lot more hurdles than I bargained for when I first conceived of this move. It is even more significant that they brought with them, without perhaps knowing it, the very timely reminder that rest is not an indication that I'm not serious about my work, my endeavors to work on myself, or my life.
The trick of laziness for me, personally, is to be lazy enough to re-charge, but not so lazy that it becomes a slippery slope or a hole I feel I can't get out of. (Remember how tricky holes are for me?) The careful work of making lazy exist in correct proportion to fun and activity when creating good times with other people always involves two important things: communication and flexibility. I have the one in spades and pretend that that makes up for the dearth of the other (blush).
In fact, as I was writing the first draft of this post, we were all enjoying the post-waffle glow and slowly making our way through showers, second cups of coffee, checking email, and all the other hazy to-do items that are so much more pleasant when done slowly, among good company, and langourously. As I was typing, a voice piped up over the music and clack of keyboard saying, "Ummmm, so, are we taking a walk downtown? And are we still talking about a hike?" It was a reminder to me that while sitting around un-make-upped and deep in thought was perfect for me at 1pm, that for others, the lazy quota was full.
So, we did hike (finally! Redeemed from the thwarted hike of Thursday), saw great views of Boulder and of the Flatirons, and then headed downtown for some of what I think of as quintessential Boulder: Pearl Street Mall and dinner at Mountain Sun. Then finishing the day off with some self-serve frozen yogurt (which is fast becoming deeply associated with Boulder since we now have four of these locations, rivaling our number of Whole Foods groceries) (ummm, also, I know it's bad form to have two parenthesis, but I cannot mention Whole Foods without mentioning the totally brilliant youtube vid about the Whole Foods Parking lot. It really reaches it's apex when he rhymes "bra" with "quinoa." ), chat, and the bi-annual music exchange.
I say this whenever I am on vacay, but it really strikes me that when I walk more, eat less (but what I want), sleep enough, laugh more than enough, have a few drinks, and have positive human contact, life seems much more doable to me. I sometimes make pledges on vacation and say that I will find ways for there to be, "more gin! more pedicures!" and then it never works once I'm back in the thick of things. The pendulum swings hard to the right, and I become a worker bee. Then the pendulum swings far to the left, and I crash. Vacation, time with friends, that's the only middle ground. I also have the opportunity, as I happened this morning, to have this imbalance modulated not just by my own motivation, but by the needs, wants, and suggestions of others. So, my pledge is this, I will try to have some balance as I seek more balance so that there is laughter, sleep, and some time for laziness.
Thanks to my friends for coming, for loving me, for putting up with my ridiculous need to plan everything and the difficulty with which I part with those plans, and for understanding that I rarely find the middle ground between lazy and busy. It's quite something for the two of them to have known me this long and still like me this much . . . farewell, you two, see you for some more epic cooking and relaxation over New Years!
Friday, October 7, 2011
Run your own race
I heard this phrase in a workshop this week. The workshop was rife with platitudes, but also opportunities to get different perspective or consider new strategies, so to this particular phrase, I worked really hard not to roll my eyes.
I found myself today, with real reason to think of it. After being on the road non stop for work, then away and in this workshop for two long days, and then vacationing with friends, we decided today was the day to head out for a run. I told them about some of the outdoor running I had done, and nearby parks, but we also noticed that there was a very handy grid of roads around my condo that make a near perfect 2.5 mile square starting and ending at my door.
It's not like I hadn't thought of road running before. After all, this is Boulder. I see more people on bikes and running in my neighborhood than I see prairie dogs, and given the prairie dog preserve I live across from, there are a lot of prairie dogs! But, I've been intimidated to road-run before. It seemed much easier to hide my inadequacies in a nice private part of a park, or even better, on the lone treadmill in the much neglected work-out room in my development. Also, in the past distances were an issue for me, But now I am regularly completing 2-3 mile running "assignments." One excuse down.
The other thing is, I don't run continuously. My trainer and I are on a strict program of me running intervals. We work hard to make my running intervals longer and my rest intervals shorter, but I don't bust out 2 miles non-stop. I definitely feel like this excludes me from the club of real "runners" that I am surrounded by in this part of the country.
Finally, I'm not all that fast or super-fit looking, so running where people can see me does make me a little insecure. what this has resulted in is me often running in a very isolated and boring way, aka the treadmill. I don't get wind on my face, good scenery, or the feeling of forward motion, but I do get to carefully calculate my times, and run in a way where few people see or scrutinize what I'm doing.
Today, my friends and I had decided, was a day for being more healthy, so we headed out with lots of "I've been researching non-stop for a month, so I won't keep up," and "I only do 10 minute miles at my best and with the altitude . . ." type comments as disclaimers about nobody needing to keep up with or hold back for any one else. Still, I knew that I would be arriving back at my own house, after my very own sea-level guests. No matter how long it had been since they ran, or the adjustment to the altitude, I knew. Because, fundamentally, although I am someone who runs, I am not a runner. And there is a difference.
It was hard when within 5 minutes both of them were more than a quarter mile ahead of me, but I had to tell myself, "This is your first road run in, ummmmm, ever."
Then they were both a half mile ahead. It's hard to not be "in the pack" but I can only do what I can do. I reminded myself that I have short legs and what I can churn out is just different. Forget the knees, my bad feet, the asthma. Even if all of that was magically erased, as someone who stands "5'2 on a good day!" having my pace match that of someone a foot taller is unlikely.
Finally, after about 10 minutes, I just settled into my running assignment, which is actually a discovery assignment. (I love these because I get to be scientist studying myself and seeing what happens) No intervals set for me, just a run this amount, break it up how you need to, and see how long you can run for, how many intervals, and how long it takes you assignment. I had to run my own race, and make the run about me getting done what I needed to get done.
What came of that is that in the same amount of time i took to run 2 miles last week (at 10 at night) I ran 2.5 miles today. Outside. On the road. and I ran my longest distance without stopping yet! My competitive nature made me feel a little . . . disappointed when I returned home to find my two best friends already lounging and recovering, but if I can be competitive with myself, well that gets the job done much better. 2.5 miles! 28 minutes!
I also realized a few things on this run:
So, while it may get me better results to run on a treadmill right now, it may also be keeping me from having better experiences running. Hmmmm. I probably need to plan some more outdoor runs before the weather turns bad. Which, in Colorado probably means I have about 6 day. Ha! See you out on the road!
I found myself today, with real reason to think of it. After being on the road non stop for work, then away and in this workshop for two long days, and then vacationing with friends, we decided today was the day to head out for a run. I told them about some of the outdoor running I had done, and nearby parks, but we also noticed that there was a very handy grid of roads around my condo that make a near perfect 2.5 mile square starting and ending at my door.
It's not like I hadn't thought of road running before. After all, this is Boulder. I see more people on bikes and running in my neighborhood than I see prairie dogs, and given the prairie dog preserve I live across from, there are a lot of prairie dogs! But, I've been intimidated to road-run before. It seemed much easier to hide my inadequacies in a nice private part of a park, or even better, on the lone treadmill in the much neglected work-out room in my development. Also, in the past distances were an issue for me, But now I am regularly completing 2-3 mile running "assignments." One excuse down.
The other thing is, I don't run continuously. My trainer and I are on a strict program of me running intervals. We work hard to make my running intervals longer and my rest intervals shorter, but I don't bust out 2 miles non-stop. I definitely feel like this excludes me from the club of real "runners" that I am surrounded by in this part of the country.
Finally, I'm not all that fast or super-fit looking, so running where people can see me does make me a little insecure. what this has resulted in is me often running in a very isolated and boring way, aka the treadmill. I don't get wind on my face, good scenery, or the feeling of forward motion, but I do get to carefully calculate my times, and run in a way where few people see or scrutinize what I'm doing.
Today, my friends and I had decided, was a day for being more healthy, so we headed out with lots of "I've been researching non-stop for a month, so I won't keep up," and "I only do 10 minute miles at my best and with the altitude . . ." type comments as disclaimers about nobody needing to keep up with or hold back for any one else. Still, I knew that I would be arriving back at my own house, after my very own sea-level guests. No matter how long it had been since they ran, or the adjustment to the altitude, I knew. Because, fundamentally, although I am someone who runs, I am not a runner. And there is a difference.
It was hard when within 5 minutes both of them were more than a quarter mile ahead of me, but I had to tell myself, "This is your first road run in, ummmmm, ever."
Then they were both a half mile ahead. It's hard to not be "in the pack" but I can only do what I can do. I reminded myself that I have short legs and what I can churn out is just different. Forget the knees, my bad feet, the asthma. Even if all of that was magically erased, as someone who stands "5'2 on a good day!" having my pace match that of someone a foot taller is unlikely.
Finally, after about 10 minutes, I just settled into my running assignment, which is actually a discovery assignment. (I love these because I get to be scientist studying myself and seeing what happens) No intervals set for me, just a run this amount, break it up how you need to, and see how long you can run for, how many intervals, and how long it takes you assignment. I had to run my own race, and make the run about me getting done what I needed to get done.
What came of that is that in the same amount of time i took to run 2 miles last week (at 10 at night) I ran 2.5 miles today. Outside. On the road. and I ran my longest distance without stopping yet! My competitive nature made me feel a little . . . disappointed when I returned home to find my two best friends already lounging and recovering, but if I can be competitive with myself, well that gets the job done much better. 2.5 miles! 28 minutes!
I also realized a few things on this run:
- running outside during nice weather is infinitely more enjoyable than running on a treadmill. I never thought about quitting, was not aware of muttering to myself like a crazy person, nor did I have to use the zombie-trick to stay motivated
- Running into the wind is hard
- Timing my breathing is harder on the road
- My feet, hands, and shoulders like running outside more
- My back likes treadmill running better
- Not having a clock keeping track actually made me push myself harder
So, while it may get me better results to run on a treadmill right now, it may also be keeping me from having better experiences running. Hmmmm. I probably need to plan some more outdoor runs before the weather turns bad. Which, in Colorado probably means I have about 6 day. Ha! See you out on the road!
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Inspiration
The importance of inspiration was never more clear to me than last year. I made it through my knee surgery, the physical therapy, and I finished my 365 photography project, kept up with work while taking only two weeks off, and and turned things into my writing group. After all of that, I. Was. Tiiiiiiirrrred.
I started another 365 self-portrait year right away, and found that it was actually really really hard to keep taking interesting pictures just then. I took a sabbatical from my writing group because all of a sudden the creek was dry. I was struggling at work too, feeling that the things I was doing were sub-par and not very meaningful. Most pressingly, I found myself feeling the effects of not having been able to exercise fully for a year, and it depressed me. It made it hard to exercise. I felt slow, and uncreative, and inarticulate, and I felt hopeless about my body and powerless to fix it. I got into a rut, and it was so hard to get out of it. I had many, many weeks of paying my trainer and then not doing the workout he sent me home with.
I looked for inspiration for a long, long time. I wasn't unaware that I needed to exercise. I wasn't unaware that I needed to find my mojo again. I just didn't know where to look.
I posted notes around the house for myself saying things like, "It will feel good after you go," or "This appointment is as important as any other you make." I watched the weight loss shows and told myself, "If people who weight 500 pounds can do it, you can get your ass off the couch." I looked for classes that would get me excited about exercising. I read books about getting into the groove of writing. I tried shooting other things with my really fancy camera. Nothing.
So, I did a few things. I forgave myself for starting a 365 I didn't finish, and for not having any writing for my group. I took a vacation. And then, when I came back, I just made myself start exercising even though it wasn't and still isn't the thing that feels most fun to me most days. (I actually went running a lot on vacation, and I remember the running "assignment" I took with me and how hard it was to get it done, even with three weeks to do it and how much it pained me to not master it. So when I returned I started making exercise a big priority in my weekly schedule.)
A friend started sharing her results on the eating plan I tried to make work for me. She had lost more than 50 pounds. for the first time in a long time, I felt really excited to work on myself. And as you can see, it made me find something inside worth writing about. I changed my eating and I kept working out, and as I started losing weight, it became more interesting to me to keep working on these things. As my friend continued to lose a lot of weight, and share her process with me, I did get inspired. I measure inspiration by how excited I am to do things I that would normally make me want to burn my eyebrows off. In other words, if I am inspired, I see things differently and delayed gratification is ok.
Inspiration wasn't a flash that hit me all at once, it was a slow process of realizing that feeling better about myself was worth it to keep trying. And I still have to dig down deep to find it a lot of days. I still have days where working out is the last thing I want to do, and eating a pizza is on the top of the list. But inspiration for me means having the presence to question that and work on other habits. I'm still not finishing any of my poems or other creative writing projects. My writing is pretty much confined to work reports and this blog for now (though I have half ideas for a children's book and may write more about that in another post). I'm still wondering if I have the commitment and creativity to do another 365, so my camera is just a sometimes habit for me right now.
With all of these potholes in the road I'm on it shocks me when people tell me I'm inspiring them. It humbles me. It scares me. It makes me want to be more accountable. It feels like a gift. When friends tell me that they are journaling, that they are thinking about different things, that they are running or walking, it makes me think more about my choices, about my writing, about what I'm putting out there when I talk about the work I'm doing to find better ways to be me. It makes me think this blog is doing what I hoped it would - keeping me aimed at working on these things and thinking about what is working and what is not, but also letting me connect with others. I don't do well when isolated; it's so much better when I have opportunities to teach and learn and let the thoughts out of my head that would otherwise cycle around not really going anywhere. When I can say it out loud, or write it out, I'm forced to hear the things those words are telling me on the inside and make sense of them.
So, I want to thank some of the people that inspire me. I am inspired by my brother who has never, ever looked at anything athletic and said, "I can't do that." He just DOES it. I am impressed beyond words by my friends who keep doing 365 projects, and one in particular who just reached his 1000th consecutive day of self-portraits. His steadfastness and determination are astonishing, but he is also an impressively gorgeous photographer. I am inspired by realizing that I have friends in wheelchairs who probably wish they had the privilege to have foot cramps during a run. I am inspired by remembering myself a year ago, and all the things I couldn't do, and all the time I had already spent not being able to do things and feeling limited. I am inspired by my friend who started a blog a couple of months before me. Even though she chose to end her blog and give that time back to her family, her courageous writing, humor, and honesty showed me that blogging could be serious writing but also have a lot of self and heart. I am also inspired by another acquaintance who continues to blog and has made the courageous choice to move his family to follow his wife's career and be a stay-at-home dad for now. That shouldn't be such a remarkable set of choices, but it is, and so those choices move me; and his writing, by the way, is hilarious. I have a friend who has six kids. I knew her and babysat for them when there were half as many children, and her grace, presence, and faith are constant reminders of a place I want to achieve. She also recently decided that in addition to running her own business and raising six children she should start training and running - wow! I am I am inspired by this little girl, and the grace with which she grows past her health challenges. I'm inspired by her parents, who went through the pregnancy under a death sentence for this baby and were rewarded in the end with a different answer and hope to learn and grow with her. I am inspired by the people in my life battling addiction, and finding the courage to be more honest than their addictions have allowed them to be in the past. Even when I am angry and hurt and disappointed, I admire so much my boyfriend for his ability to accept people for what they are, to be humble and loving, and to forgive. I am moved beyond words by my friend and her journey as a wonderful mom to her two boys. She has faced down more demons and disappointments than I can fathom, and somehow keeps a smile on her face and a lightness in her heart whenever we interact, and still has enough left over to reach out to me with sincere concern and advice. Its amazing an heartwarming, and it is clear to me that she has amazing challenges and amazing gifts, and revels in them daily.
And on a regular basis, when I get in the pool with my good friend, I remember three years ago when I had spotted her working out with my trainer and that was all I knew about her. I remember finding myself on a treadmill next to her a few months later, and trying to think how to start a conversation with her without it being an awkward, "Soooo, you work out with Nick too?" kind of interjection. And once we started talking, I wondered why I had ever worried. She is warm, approachable, and funny. As we saw each other more and more at "the changing of the guard" (the point at the end of her workout when I would arrive and be stretching and she would be finishing up) we enjoyed each others company more and more. We worked out together a couple of times, and when I heard about her duathalon, I was so inspired and excited that I said, "Wow, you should do a tri next year!" She quietly said, "Oh, no, I don't swim."
I said, "What do you mean?" It was hard for me to process this, not just because I love to swim so much, but because she is so incredibly strong and fit. I had heard how she decided to conquer her issue with heights by jumping out of a plane, and was so impressed by how she identified something that was holding her back and sought out a way to dominate it. So, we talked about it and I just casually said, "Well, if you ever want to swim with me, let me know." She vehemently shook her head. and I thought that was that.
So, a few months later when she approached me and said, almost shyly (for her), "I'm signed up for a class. A beginning swimming class. After I'm done can I swim with you and get some pointers?" I was so excited (and impressed with her courage). She had learned a lot in her class, but we started from the basics. Here was a woman who had gone through decades of her life not wanting to get in the water and having had traumatic experiences with water getting into the pool with me. She went from being her usual bubbly, goofy self to being defensive and guarded, so I knew she was really feeling a lot of fear. We started not being able to make it across the pool, and within a week had two strokes that she could swim to make to from wall to wall. Now, 7 months later, she got in the pool, swam 300 meters, and 100 of it was the stroke she least likes and feels the least confident in. It reminds me that at all times in life, people can choose to change, and grow and take on new challenges. She keeps on thanking me for my help, but I don't think she realizes how much she inspires me. She gets in that water every time feeling concerned and unsure, and does real laps and makes real leaps in her ability every time. This weekend, she said, "That's all? Can I do more?" This would have been unthinkable even 2 months ago, and 7 months ago she was PISSED when I even suggested she do the stroke she most struggles with.
I feel proud to have been able to be a part of this transformation, but I also feel lucky to get this boost every time we swim. She doesn't understand how much she gives to me. I need inspiration, because like I said, I don't get hit with inspiration in the religious sense. I don't wake up and feel it in my marrow, at least not right now. I need to locate it every day, and some days I have to look deeper under the bed than others. Some days I don't find it at all, but just make myself do it anyways.
I hope over time that inspiration and belief will stick a little closer to me. I hope that I will keep finding sources and reminders of inspiration. I hope that the creek will fill up again and I will relocate my creativity. But for now, it's enough to know I have enough people and things to point to that keep me going. Thank you to those people who give me every day reminders. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
I started another 365 self-portrait year right away, and found that it was actually really really hard to keep taking interesting pictures just then. I took a sabbatical from my writing group because all of a sudden the creek was dry. I was struggling at work too, feeling that the things I was doing were sub-par and not very meaningful. Most pressingly, I found myself feeling the effects of not having been able to exercise fully for a year, and it depressed me. It made it hard to exercise. I felt slow, and uncreative, and inarticulate, and I felt hopeless about my body and powerless to fix it. I got into a rut, and it was so hard to get out of it. I had many, many weeks of paying my trainer and then not doing the workout he sent me home with.
I looked for inspiration for a long, long time. I wasn't unaware that I needed to exercise. I wasn't unaware that I needed to find my mojo again. I just didn't know where to look.
I posted notes around the house for myself saying things like, "It will feel good after you go," or "This appointment is as important as any other you make." I watched the weight loss shows and told myself, "If people who weight 500 pounds can do it, you can get your ass off the couch." I looked for classes that would get me excited about exercising. I read books about getting into the groove of writing. I tried shooting other things with my really fancy camera. Nothing.
So, I did a few things. I forgave myself for starting a 365 I didn't finish, and for not having any writing for my group. I took a vacation. And then, when I came back, I just made myself start exercising even though it wasn't and still isn't the thing that feels most fun to me most days. (I actually went running a lot on vacation, and I remember the running "assignment" I took with me and how hard it was to get it done, even with three weeks to do it and how much it pained me to not master it. So when I returned I started making exercise a big priority in my weekly schedule.)
A friend started sharing her results on the eating plan I tried to make work for me. She had lost more than 50 pounds. for the first time in a long time, I felt really excited to work on myself. And as you can see, it made me find something inside worth writing about. I changed my eating and I kept working out, and as I started losing weight, it became more interesting to me to keep working on these things. As my friend continued to lose a lot of weight, and share her process with me, I did get inspired. I measure inspiration by how excited I am to do things I that would normally make me want to burn my eyebrows off. In other words, if I am inspired, I see things differently and delayed gratification is ok.
Inspiration wasn't a flash that hit me all at once, it was a slow process of realizing that feeling better about myself was worth it to keep trying. And I still have to dig down deep to find it a lot of days. I still have days where working out is the last thing I want to do, and eating a pizza is on the top of the list. But inspiration for me means having the presence to question that and work on other habits. I'm still not finishing any of my poems or other creative writing projects. My writing is pretty much confined to work reports and this blog for now (though I have half ideas for a children's book and may write more about that in another post). I'm still wondering if I have the commitment and creativity to do another 365, so my camera is just a sometimes habit for me right now.
With all of these potholes in the road I'm on it shocks me when people tell me I'm inspiring them. It humbles me. It scares me. It makes me want to be more accountable. It feels like a gift. When friends tell me that they are journaling, that they are thinking about different things, that they are running or walking, it makes me think more about my choices, about my writing, about what I'm putting out there when I talk about the work I'm doing to find better ways to be me. It makes me think this blog is doing what I hoped it would - keeping me aimed at working on these things and thinking about what is working and what is not, but also letting me connect with others. I don't do well when isolated; it's so much better when I have opportunities to teach and learn and let the thoughts out of my head that would otherwise cycle around not really going anywhere. When I can say it out loud, or write it out, I'm forced to hear the things those words are telling me on the inside and make sense of them.
So, I want to thank some of the people that inspire me. I am inspired by my brother who has never, ever looked at anything athletic and said, "I can't do that." He just DOES it. I am impressed beyond words by my friends who keep doing 365 projects, and one in particular who just reached his 1000th consecutive day of self-portraits. His steadfastness and determination are astonishing, but he is also an impressively gorgeous photographer. I am inspired by realizing that I have friends in wheelchairs who probably wish they had the privilege to have foot cramps during a run. I am inspired by remembering myself a year ago, and all the things I couldn't do, and all the time I had already spent not being able to do things and feeling limited. I am inspired by my friend who started a blog a couple of months before me. Even though she chose to end her blog and give that time back to her family, her courageous writing, humor, and honesty showed me that blogging could be serious writing but also have a lot of self and heart. I am also inspired by another acquaintance who continues to blog and has made the courageous choice to move his family to follow his wife's career and be a stay-at-home dad for now. That shouldn't be such a remarkable set of choices, but it is, and so those choices move me; and his writing, by the way, is hilarious. I have a friend who has six kids. I knew her and babysat for them when there were half as many children, and her grace, presence, and faith are constant reminders of a place I want to achieve. She also recently decided that in addition to running her own business and raising six children she should start training and running - wow! I am I am inspired by this little girl, and the grace with which she grows past her health challenges. I'm inspired by her parents, who went through the pregnancy under a death sentence for this baby and were rewarded in the end with a different answer and hope to learn and grow with her. I am inspired by the people in my life battling addiction, and finding the courage to be more honest than their addictions have allowed them to be in the past. Even when I am angry and hurt and disappointed, I admire so much my boyfriend for his ability to accept people for what they are, to be humble and loving, and to forgive. I am moved beyond words by my friend and her journey as a wonderful mom to her two boys. She has faced down more demons and disappointments than I can fathom, and somehow keeps a smile on her face and a lightness in her heart whenever we interact, and still has enough left over to reach out to me with sincere concern and advice. Its amazing an heartwarming, and it is clear to me that she has amazing challenges and amazing gifts, and revels in them daily.
And on a regular basis, when I get in the pool with my good friend, I remember three years ago when I had spotted her working out with my trainer and that was all I knew about her. I remember finding myself on a treadmill next to her a few months later, and trying to think how to start a conversation with her without it being an awkward, "Soooo, you work out with Nick too?" kind of interjection. And once we started talking, I wondered why I had ever worried. She is warm, approachable, and funny. As we saw each other more and more at "the changing of the guard" (the point at the end of her workout when I would arrive and be stretching and she would be finishing up) we enjoyed each others company more and more. We worked out together a couple of times, and when I heard about her duathalon, I was so inspired and excited that I said, "Wow, you should do a tri next year!" She quietly said, "Oh, no, I don't swim."
I said, "What do you mean?" It was hard for me to process this, not just because I love to swim so much, but because she is so incredibly strong and fit. I had heard how she decided to conquer her issue with heights by jumping out of a plane, and was so impressed by how she identified something that was holding her back and sought out a way to dominate it. So, we talked about it and I just casually said, "Well, if you ever want to swim with me, let me know." She vehemently shook her head. and I thought that was that.
So, a few months later when she approached me and said, almost shyly (for her), "I'm signed up for a class. A beginning swimming class. After I'm done can I swim with you and get some pointers?" I was so excited (and impressed with her courage). She had learned a lot in her class, but we started from the basics. Here was a woman who had gone through decades of her life not wanting to get in the water and having had traumatic experiences with water getting into the pool with me. She went from being her usual bubbly, goofy self to being defensive and guarded, so I knew she was really feeling a lot of fear. We started not being able to make it across the pool, and within a week had two strokes that she could swim to make to from wall to wall. Now, 7 months later, she got in the pool, swam 300 meters, and 100 of it was the stroke she least likes and feels the least confident in. It reminds me that at all times in life, people can choose to change, and grow and take on new challenges. She keeps on thanking me for my help, but I don't think she realizes how much she inspires me. She gets in that water every time feeling concerned and unsure, and does real laps and makes real leaps in her ability every time. This weekend, she said, "That's all? Can I do more?" This would have been unthinkable even 2 months ago, and 7 months ago she was PISSED when I even suggested she do the stroke she most struggles with.
I feel proud to have been able to be a part of this transformation, but I also feel lucky to get this boost every time we swim. She doesn't understand how much she gives to me. I need inspiration, because like I said, I don't get hit with inspiration in the religious sense. I don't wake up and feel it in my marrow, at least not right now. I need to locate it every day, and some days I have to look deeper under the bed than others. Some days I don't find it at all, but just make myself do it anyways.
I hope over time that inspiration and belief will stick a little closer to me. I hope that I will keep finding sources and reminders of inspiration. I hope that the creek will fill up again and I will relocate my creativity. But for now, it's enough to know I have enough people and things to point to that keep me going. Thank you to those people who give me every day reminders. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
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