I'm someone who needs a lot of professional help. I try to do things myself as much as possible, but sometimes, I just can't do things on my own. I hire people to wash my car. I sometimes hire people to do my toenails, not because I can't do it but because I love, love, love pedicures. I used to cut my own hair, but the truth is, it's worth it to pay someone else to do it. I pay to have my clothes altered because I never learned to sew. I hire people to change my oil and my condo association hires people to do our lawn care and landscaping (thank god!). I have friends who do these things on their own. I have a couple of friends who do their own oil change, and one of my oldest and dearest friends spent the summer re-siding his HOUSE for God's sake. Not me. I mean, I don't pay to have my laundry sent out or anything, I can do things for myself (I cook! I do my laundry, I hate folding, but I do it!) there are just things that it would take me so much time to do or to learn to do that it's worth it to pay to get it taken care of.
There are a couple of things about this that fascinate me. For one, it is one of the most conspicuous signs that I am in the middle class. While I grew up in a family that was comfortable most of the time, I also grew up during the last great recession, in a family with three kids. So there was very rarely extra to go around. And with one parent who was working incredibly hard to transcend not attending college and another who left a white collar job for a blue collar one, I think it's fair to say I grew up not quite in the comfortable middle class - perched nearby but not quite soundly there. I grew up in a town full of incredibly privileged families, so while we weren't ever worried about putting food on the table, I was aware of the differences. We didn't have someone clean the house, we didn't go to Disney World. New cars, nuh-uh.
I am often uncomfortable with the fact that I have launched myself into this class in society. For instance, I can't fathom buying a new car. And, I don't know that I will ever be able to hire someone to clean my house (not that I need to, my house is fully cleanable by me) because cleaning houses was one of the four jobs I worked to pay college tuition. I feel very weirdly self-conscious when I pay someone to hem my pants. I am aware that I have choices like buying plane tickets and iPhones. And there are times (like when I bought my iPhone, or when I moved into this place with in house laundry. Not in-building . . . in my HOUSE! Life-changer, woot!) that I celebrate it.
The other thing is that . . it becomes more and more natural to ask for help. In the long run, this is a good thing. I used to be pathologically, stubbornly independent. My mother loves to tell the story that when I was two I would cry out if either parent started to help me, "I'm inn-deeeee-peeenn-DENT!" It used to be painful for me to ask for or accept help. When I was on crutches for a year, my boyfriend-at-the-time offered to go down to the basement and get me a ginger-ale. I was mortified. Now, it seems like it's nothing to me to ask for help. But underneath, I am always a little concerned that I should just suck it up and do it myself.
But yeah, I get professional help. Just in the last week, I got my hair done, saw my trainer, saw a therapist, and followed a plan made by the dietician. I am logging my food, and following a plan of how many carbs, how many vegetables, how much fat and fruit, and what counts as a serving size. This means I have to measure all my food, plan carefully to get enough of everything, and do a lot of cooking (thank goodness I can do THAT by myself). I am writing everything down and thinking, "Oh, I should eat more olives tomorrow," or "Oh, I should remember that that only counts as a half serving." It's a lot to think about when I just want to grab lunch.
Meanwhile, my trainer has me not only working the kinks out in my muscles, but re-learning how to stand and walk. Today it's snowing so I'm camped on the couch because my brain is full of thoughts on how to walk. "Three point walking - heel, ball, toe." Standing is work because I'm constantly having to remind myself to change my posture, shift my weight off my toes, and unlock my knees . . . it's how the rest of the world stands, but it feels like my knees are bent when I do this. This is what is in my head while I'm cooking, while I'm showering, putting on make-up, reading the label on some granola in the aisle of Whole Foods. While I'm standing in the grocery line, or talking to someone on my feet, it looks like I'm doing normal things, you know how you do, but really I'm trying to revamp my whole way of staying upright and moving through the world. My brain is full, and it's work to keep track of this.
I am foam rolling my muscles, and using a lacrosse ball to roll my feet out. That's not only work, but it's painful and time consuming.
Add to this following a technique from the therapist about how to be assertive without expectation, and breathe through anxiety and I'm constantly questioning myself. What would expectation look like? Is my weight on my toes? Is that cheese one serving of dairy or two? Am I walking correctly? Did I roll out my leg muscles and IT band today? Breathe, breathe, assert your wants, but don't cling to any expectation about them. Is this assertive or aggressive? What do I want. Unlock your knees! Oh no, didn't eat enough fat servings today!
Oh, it's work. And it sometimes seems backwards that I pay to add this work to my day. But, I know in the end, I asked for this help. And I need it. I need not to bring more mess to sort through into the middle of my relationship. I need to have a an eating plan that allows me to eat on the road, but also be healthy and chip away at my goals. And I need (oh, I can't believe I'm going to say this) to be able to go running. I need to work out and feel good about it.
So I seek help. I work hard to work those things into my schedule. I work hard to follow the things I learn, the things I need to change, into my day-to-day. So, I bought me two lacrosse balls, I carry around my food log, and I'm working on breathing my way through the messy feelings I have right now. Oh my!
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Monday, October 24, 2011
Toes up! Knees unlocked!
Yesterday I was reminded that paying a trainer isn't just about having someone to work out with, or tell me what I should work on for the week. Those things are nice, but when I think of paying someone to do those things, it feels like a massive luxury. When I remember the full range of knowledge my trainer brings to the table, it feels more like a reasonable expense.
Not only does my trainer have a degree in exercise physiology and kinesthesiology, not only can he consult on my nutrition as he reminded me last Sunday, but he also can help me problem solve when my body is falling apart. In 2010 I called him on a Friday from Phoenix and said, "Ummm, I dislocated my knee. I'm taking this Sunday off and will see a doctor on Monday." After seeing the doc and getting referred to PT my trainer was like, "Yeah, we can work out. No big deal." He built workouts that allowed me to keep progressing in as many areas as possible, and I was glad that I spent only one week laid up on the couch. I was grateful to have part of my life NOT be interrupted by that injury. All injuries seriously suck, but after going through a year of trying to avoid surgery on that very knee in 1997/98 and then having the surgery, followed by another year of rehab (1998/99), having that reconstruction fail me wasn't just physically painful, it was emotional for me to. Having my trainer work around it without a blink was actually reassuring and kept me motivated.
Six weeks after that knee took it's trip out to the side, my other knee took three trips out to the side. I can't say he and I soldiered on without blinking when it was crutches and two bad knees. I certainly can't say we just shrugged it off when my MRI results were in and the total wreckage news was delivered upon us (I tore my ACL, mediapatellar femoral ligament, and meniscus. I wrecked it good. Go big or go home!), but we did keep going. We kept going by doing a lot of things sitting down, a lot of exercises that strengthened my back, shoulders, arms, and abs and a few things laying down. we kept going by making fun of my crutches. We were limited, but we kept going. I had a few friends who said, "Wouldn't it be better to save your paid time with the trainer until you can do more?" Sure. But at a time when I felt helpless, weak, and useless it was important for me to have a few opportunities to feel strong, powerful and capable.
Any trainer who can work around two injured legs is a keeper, but yes, he is also fun to work out with, capable of guiding me nutritionally, and he makes me laugh. What amazed me today was how he set about fixing my running issues . I texted him on Thursday and said, "Something is wrong with my running - backs of my legs right under my calves feels hard and bruised to the touch, but there's no bruise. feet cramping so bad they're going numb. Please help me figure out what I'm doing wrong when I see you Sunday."
I walked in yesterday and he had a plan already in place, a plan that involved me working out without shoes. We rolled the muscles of my feet and calves with a lacrosse ball, and then he explained to me that the muscles and tendons in my lower leg connect up to my thigh and hip flexors, but also down into my feet, pulling on the achilles tendon. He told me that some of the ways I have compensated for my knees or have learned to walk with the joint laxity I have are causing me to put more pressure on my arches and toes. This in turn causes me to tense the muscles in my calves, and below, while relaxing the muscles on my shins. That pulls me forward, putting more pressure on my toes, and taking weight off my heels. Additionally, my knees are so loose that they often hyperextend . . . which means they bend backwards. That pushes my pelvis in the wrong direction, tightening muscles in my lower back, pulling up on my IT band and all the muscles and tendons of my legs . . . contributing more to the damn feet.
So, basically, I'm put together all wrong and so I walk wrong. I put pressure on my toes and arches, and I lock my knees out hyperextended which pulls my pelvis and lower back into the wrong place therefore pulling on the muscles in the backs of my legs and puts more pressure on my feet in the wrong places. I try not to blame my parents for constructing me wrong. After all, I was their first; they didn't know what they were doing. But a lot of issues seem to stem from these bad knees which are a result of faulty construction - it'd be nice to pass the blame off. But it won't help me walk right. And without walking correctly, it's unlikely that I will run correctly.
The workout was mentally difficult for me. It wasn't that physically strenuous, because we were focusing on a lot of exercises where I could stand with my knees straight-not-hyper-extended (which feels bent to me) and my toes flexed up towards my face. Every time I wasn't lifting something I got the treatment that tall willowy blondes get when they walk down the street. I got looked up and down to make sure my posture was good, my weight was on my heels, and my knees weren't locked. I was reminded over and over to "unlock [your] knees," and "take the weight off [your] heels." It's pretty frustrating to realize after more than three decades on the planet that I don't know how to stand properly. Arg! Retrain! Retrain!
I am hopeful that re-training myself will result in more comfortable joints, better ability to do more, and a return to running. Best of all would be not having my feet turn into hobbled nubs of themselves as they cramp so hard that my toes curl under.
I was also pretty impressed that without watching me walk or run, without "examining" my legs or feet, just through a text, my trainer could figure out what was wrong, and put me back on the right track. It was reassuring to find that I could walk in and have a workout designed specifically for the issue I was having. If you're interested here are some of the things we did: dead lifts while making sure I was weighted on my heels and not my toes, planks while lifting each leg for one second, keeping toes flexed and knees straight. I also did renegade rows. This is down in a plank position with toes bent to support me but arms are straight down from the shoulder and holding 25 pound weights. As I bring each arm up one at a time I curl into my body holding the weight. We did an exercise that reminded me of bobbing and weaving along the rope in karate - my trainer stretched a theraband our and had me squat (toes up!) and bob and weave for 60 seconds. We did a combination movement of one legged touchdown (enjoy the music on that one!) and lunge where I had to stand on one leg (toes up! knees unlocked!) and send my other leg out behind me and then touch the ground, then stand upright and swing that leg through to a lunge bending the toes of my back/planted foot and keeping the weight off the toes of the front/lunging foot. (I was sweating a lot after that one not because it was so physically strenuous but because the effort of keeping my feet even and my toes where they were supposed to be was enormous.) We did a few other exercises but you get the picture - with no shoes on we could always be looking at what my feet were doing, as well as keeping an eye on whether or not my knees were locked out. We finished by stretching and foam rolling my trouble spots. I won't lie - it was painful. In fact, it was a bitch. But I walked out of there feeling looser all over and more comfortable moving. And it's also good to know that something so simple can help.
I was relieved to find out I hadn't just been wimping out - that this is a real problem. (I always secretly worry that I am a wuss and that the pain I feel is "not that bad" and that I should just "suck it up.") One that I can fix. So, if you see me mumbling to myself about how my feet ar turned out, keeping the weight on my heels, making sure to walk so that I hit three points on my feet (heel, ball, toe), or my knees being unlocked, I'm not crazy. Well, I might be crazy, but it's for a reason.
Not only does my trainer have a degree in exercise physiology and kinesthesiology, not only can he consult on my nutrition as he reminded me last Sunday, but he also can help me problem solve when my body is falling apart. In 2010 I called him on a Friday from Phoenix and said, "Ummm, I dislocated my knee. I'm taking this Sunday off and will see a doctor on Monday." After seeing the doc and getting referred to PT my trainer was like, "Yeah, we can work out. No big deal." He built workouts that allowed me to keep progressing in as many areas as possible, and I was glad that I spent only one week laid up on the couch. I was grateful to have part of my life NOT be interrupted by that injury. All injuries seriously suck, but after going through a year of trying to avoid surgery on that very knee in 1997/98 and then having the surgery, followed by another year of rehab (1998/99), having that reconstruction fail me wasn't just physically painful, it was emotional for me to. Having my trainer work around it without a blink was actually reassuring and kept me motivated.
Six weeks after that knee took it's trip out to the side, my other knee took three trips out to the side. I can't say he and I soldiered on without blinking when it was crutches and two bad knees. I certainly can't say we just shrugged it off when my MRI results were in and the total wreckage news was delivered upon us (I tore my ACL, mediapatellar femoral ligament, and meniscus. I wrecked it good. Go big or go home!), but we did keep going. We kept going by doing a lot of things sitting down, a lot of exercises that strengthened my back, shoulders, arms, and abs and a few things laying down. we kept going by making fun of my crutches. We were limited, but we kept going. I had a few friends who said, "Wouldn't it be better to save your paid time with the trainer until you can do more?" Sure. But at a time when I felt helpless, weak, and useless it was important for me to have a few opportunities to feel strong, powerful and capable.
Any trainer who can work around two injured legs is a keeper, but yes, he is also fun to work out with, capable of guiding me nutritionally, and he makes me laugh. What amazed me today was how he set about fixing my running issues . I texted him on Thursday and said, "Something is wrong with my running - backs of my legs right under my calves feels hard and bruised to the touch, but there's no bruise. feet cramping so bad they're going numb. Please help me figure out what I'm doing wrong when I see you Sunday."
I walked in yesterday and he had a plan already in place, a plan that involved me working out without shoes. We rolled the muscles of my feet and calves with a lacrosse ball, and then he explained to me that the muscles and tendons in my lower leg connect up to my thigh and hip flexors, but also down into my feet, pulling on the achilles tendon. He told me that some of the ways I have compensated for my knees or have learned to walk with the joint laxity I have are causing me to put more pressure on my arches and toes. This in turn causes me to tense the muscles in my calves, and below, while relaxing the muscles on my shins. That pulls me forward, putting more pressure on my toes, and taking weight off my heels. Additionally, my knees are so loose that they often hyperextend . . . which means they bend backwards. That pushes my pelvis in the wrong direction, tightening muscles in my lower back, pulling up on my IT band and all the muscles and tendons of my legs . . . contributing more to the damn feet.
So, basically, I'm put together all wrong and so I walk wrong. I put pressure on my toes and arches, and I lock my knees out hyperextended which pulls my pelvis and lower back into the wrong place therefore pulling on the muscles in the backs of my legs and puts more pressure on my feet in the wrong places. I try not to blame my parents for constructing me wrong. After all, I was their first; they didn't know what they were doing. But a lot of issues seem to stem from these bad knees which are a result of faulty construction - it'd be nice to pass the blame off. But it won't help me walk right. And without walking correctly, it's unlikely that I will run correctly.
The workout was mentally difficult for me. It wasn't that physically strenuous, because we were focusing on a lot of exercises where I could stand with my knees straight-not-hyper-extended (which feels bent to me) and my toes flexed up towards my face. Every time I wasn't lifting something I got the treatment that tall willowy blondes get when they walk down the street. I got looked up and down to make sure my posture was good, my weight was on my heels, and my knees weren't locked. I was reminded over and over to "unlock [your] knees," and "take the weight off [your] heels." It's pretty frustrating to realize after more than three decades on the planet that I don't know how to stand properly. Arg! Retrain! Retrain!
I am hopeful that re-training myself will result in more comfortable joints, better ability to do more, and a return to running. Best of all would be not having my feet turn into hobbled nubs of themselves as they cramp so hard that my toes curl under.
I was also pretty impressed that without watching me walk or run, without "examining" my legs or feet, just through a text, my trainer could figure out what was wrong, and put me back on the right track. It was reassuring to find that I could walk in and have a workout designed specifically for the issue I was having. If you're interested here are some of the things we did: dead lifts while making sure I was weighted on my heels and not my toes, planks while lifting each leg for one second, keeping toes flexed and knees straight. I also did renegade rows. This is down in a plank position with toes bent to support me but arms are straight down from the shoulder and holding 25 pound weights. As I bring each arm up one at a time I curl into my body holding the weight. We did an exercise that reminded me of bobbing and weaving along the rope in karate - my trainer stretched a theraband our and had me squat (toes up!) and bob and weave for 60 seconds. We did a combination movement of one legged touchdown (enjoy the music on that one!) and lunge where I had to stand on one leg (toes up! knees unlocked!) and send my other leg out behind me and then touch the ground, then stand upright and swing that leg through to a lunge bending the toes of my back/planted foot and keeping the weight off the toes of the front/lunging foot. (I was sweating a lot after that one not because it was so physically strenuous but because the effort of keeping my feet even and my toes where they were supposed to be was enormous.) We did a few other exercises but you get the picture - with no shoes on we could always be looking at what my feet were doing, as well as keeping an eye on whether or not my knees were locked out. We finished by stretching and foam rolling my trouble spots. I won't lie - it was painful. In fact, it was a bitch. But I walked out of there feeling looser all over and more comfortable moving. And it's also good to know that something so simple can help.
I was relieved to find out I hadn't just been wimping out - that this is a real problem. (I always secretly worry that I am a wuss and that the pain I feel is "not that bad" and that I should just "suck it up.") One that I can fix. So, if you see me mumbling to myself about how my feet ar turned out, keeping the weight on my heels, making sure to walk so that I hit three points on my feet (heel, ball, toe), or my knees being unlocked, I'm not crazy. Well, I might be crazy, but it's for a reason.
Saturday, October 22, 2011
ungood week
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?!
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?!
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.
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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!
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