The more time I spend in this fitness program, the more I find it to be exactly like a relationship.
At first, it's all excitement. I'm so happy to see the gym, I look forward to every minute in its presence. I giggle when I talk about it with my friends. I glow.
Then, it becomes a habit. I go there every day, and it's okay, but it can be a chore. Sometimes, I just want to go out with my friends.
Slowly, the tedium creeps in. I step in the doors, look at the same old machines, and sigh. I'd rather be curled up on my couch, alone, watching a movie. And why can't I?
The next thing I know, it's a Saturday night. Or is it Sunday morning? I'm creeping to the kitchen. I'm grabbing the cookies I bought last week, "You know, as a reward for all my hard work," and I'm eating them all. Every. Last. One.
I can't face my protein bars. They know what I've done. I'm shamed.
Finally, I realize that this thing I have, this plan and these goals and this gym, it's worth keeping. It just might be the best thing that's ever happened to me. My eyes are opened and I understand. I recommit to the program - to myself - and start over again.
Okay, so maybe my relationship with the gym is more "dysfunctional" than just "relationship", but the point remains. Fitness plans are hard. They're repetitive. They're tiring. But the rewards are greater than any of that. Greater than all of that.
You know the best thing about the gym? It'll never judge you, and it'll always take you back.
Thank goodness for that.
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Jealousy, aka Getting on with it, already
I've struggled numerous times in this journey, predictably dealing with the problems of plateaus and injuries, but only recently have I wrestled with an issue that I never saw coming.
That issue is jealousy.
If you had mentioned that I would get derailed over jealousy and the feelings of inferiority that accompany it, I don't think I would have believed you. I would have lifted my chin and said confidently that every body is different and will see results differently. I would have marched back to the gym and not spared it a second thought.
But coping with friends who are somehow losing enormous amounts of weight in very little time, all while shrugging their shoulders and saying "I don't know how I did it! I just changed my diet a little!" has proven to be a bigger challenge than I could have ever expected.
I'm happy for my friends. Really, truly, and entirely. Weight loss is hard and I applaud anyone who finds a safe way to achieve success. This life is precious and brief. The ability to make it better, in whatever way, is meaningful.
Still, the bitter sadness found a way through my pride and settled into a corner of my heart. My goals have been realistic and attainable. I have worked and sweated and cried. I have injured myself. I have fought.
And I have fallen short.
The inferiority complex I've been harboring has been immensely destructive. I've found myself falling into old patterns. I'm drinking hundreds of calories a day, I'm having impulsive snacks that I immediately regret, I'm eating late at night to fill some void that can't be filled by food. For weeks, I've slid slowly backward.
Yesterday, at long last, I started to break free. I put away the excuses - most of them, anyway - and have begun taking responsibility for myself again. I decided I was done hating myself for these temporary setbacks that I was unfairly labeling "failures".
They're not failures. I'm not a failure.
The good news is that I haven't gained any of my weight back. I have (mostly) kept my calories in check, despite my horrible choices. I was still running, and in retrospect, I can see that I was doing good things. I was just refusing to acknowledge it.
This is why I keep this record of my journey. To give myself credit. Submerged in self-loathing, I forgot that part.
So here I am, being honest with myself. I have lost 41 pounds. Tonight, I weighed in at 197. I ran for more than twenty minutes without stopping.
I ran for two miles without stopping.
Sitting here now, being able to own this success without criticizing myself, it makes everything better. It makes me better.
And that's what this is all about.
That issue is jealousy.
If you had mentioned that I would get derailed over jealousy and the feelings of inferiority that accompany it, I don't think I would have believed you. I would have lifted my chin and said confidently that every body is different and will see results differently. I would have marched back to the gym and not spared it a second thought.
But coping with friends who are somehow losing enormous amounts of weight in very little time, all while shrugging their shoulders and saying "I don't know how I did it! I just changed my diet a little!" has proven to be a bigger challenge than I could have ever expected.
I'm happy for my friends. Really, truly, and entirely. Weight loss is hard and I applaud anyone who finds a safe way to achieve success. This life is precious and brief. The ability to make it better, in whatever way, is meaningful.
Still, the bitter sadness found a way through my pride and settled into a corner of my heart. My goals have been realistic and attainable. I have worked and sweated and cried. I have injured myself. I have fought.
And I have fallen short.
The inferiority complex I've been harboring has been immensely destructive. I've found myself falling into old patterns. I'm drinking hundreds of calories a day, I'm having impulsive snacks that I immediately regret, I'm eating late at night to fill some void that can't be filled by food. For weeks, I've slid slowly backward.
Yesterday, at long last, I started to break free. I put away the excuses - most of them, anyway - and have begun taking responsibility for myself again. I decided I was done hating myself for these temporary setbacks that I was unfairly labeling "failures".
They're not failures. I'm not a failure.
The good news is that I haven't gained any of my weight back. I have (mostly) kept my calories in check, despite my horrible choices. I was still running, and in retrospect, I can see that I was doing good things. I was just refusing to acknowledge it.
This is why I keep this record of my journey. To give myself credit. Submerged in self-loathing, I forgot that part.
So here I am, being honest with myself. I have lost 41 pounds. Tonight, I weighed in at 197. I ran for more than twenty minutes without stopping.
I ran for two miles without stopping.
Sitting here now, being able to own this success without criticizing myself, it makes everything better. It makes me better.
And that's what this is all about.
Saturday, May 19, 2012
A timely update: A new 5K!
Within days of my foot feeling good enough to ditch my overnight brace, I had signed up for another 5K.
Of course I did!
The race was this morning, and it was a cross-country variety, taking place at an area farm. The path wound from pasture and field to wooded areas, all of which was absolutely beautiful.
I set my goal this time around as 45:00. The course description warned of some hills, so I knew I wouldn't be setting any personal records today. Setting out from the starting line, across the first field, I found my pace and got to thinking that I just might make it.
But when I hit the first hill, I strongly reevaluated my time. 'Cause yikes, everyone.
It was always nice to get out of the sun and back into the woods, until I made a turn and there was another hill, rising up in front of me. I told myself that I'd be happy to finish in 48:00.
I never once felt like I wouldn't finish. I doubted, sometimes, if I'd break an hour, like when I came upon the hill shortly after the two-mile mark. It must have been ten or fifteen feet high and steep enough that my upper body was parallel with the dirt as I struggled up it.
Thank goodness I was in the woods, alone. When I reached the top, I wrapped my arms around a tree and just leaned for a bit.
This is why I work on hamstrings.
I'm thrilled to report that I finished the race in 46:39! It was amazing. So amazing.
Slightly less amazing is that my foot is aching a little tonight, so it's wrapped and resting. I have a hunch that Monday will be a legs night, so I'm off running for the week anyway. Two weeks until the next 5K, which will be infinitely more difficult than today.
Memo to me: Pick a flat, boring 5K. It'll make you feel better.
Hooray for another day of running, and hooray for another day of success!
Of course I did!
The race was this morning, and it was a cross-country variety, taking place at an area farm. The path wound from pasture and field to wooded areas, all of which was absolutely beautiful.
I set my goal this time around as 45:00. The course description warned of some hills, so I knew I wouldn't be setting any personal records today. Setting out from the starting line, across the first field, I found my pace and got to thinking that I just might make it.
But when I hit the first hill, I strongly reevaluated my time. 'Cause yikes, everyone.
It was always nice to get out of the sun and back into the woods, until I made a turn and there was another hill, rising up in front of me. I told myself that I'd be happy to finish in 48:00.
I never once felt like I wouldn't finish. I doubted, sometimes, if I'd break an hour, like when I came upon the hill shortly after the two-mile mark. It must have been ten or fifteen feet high and steep enough that my upper body was parallel with the dirt as I struggled up it.
Thank goodness I was in the woods, alone. When I reached the top, I wrapped my arms around a tree and just leaned for a bit.
This is why I work on hamstrings.
I'm thrilled to report that I finished the race in 46:39! It was amazing. So amazing.
Slightly less amazing is that my foot is aching a little tonight, so it's wrapped and resting. I have a hunch that Monday will be a legs night, so I'm off running for the week anyway. Two weeks until the next 5K, which will be infinitely more difficult than today.
Memo to me: Pick a flat, boring 5K. It'll make you feel better.
Hooray for another day of running, and hooray for another day of success!
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
A long overdue update
Let me tell you something that I learned last week.
Hamstrings are the single most horrible muscle group to train. Ever.
I had an inkling of this early on, when J first had me doing these babies. We did these within the first few weeks of training, when it was all new and shiny and I still wanted to impress him with my physical prowess (har har), and it was the first exercise that made me feel like a piece of my body was trying to pop out and run away.
Every time we do legs, this is what I fear. It's not the lunges or the step-ups. It's the hamstrings.
So when I explain to you that we spent the bulk of our time on hamstrings last week, you have some idea of how I felt about it.
And when I share with you that, two days later, the very act of standing from my desk evoked the sensation of my hamstrings tearing in half, and every step was accompanied by shallow breathing more likely found in a labor ward than in an office, you understand.
At the same time that I can't overstate just how much it hurt in the following days, I also can't possibly overstate how beneficial and important the workout was. The hamstrings are a notoriously weak and neglected part of the body. They're vital for, well, everything. We just don't tend to isolate them in our exercises. Those exercises are no fun at all.
We started the night in the hack squat machine, a machine we've used once before. Those sets were alternated with lunges and stiff-leg deadlifts. This particular type of deadlift looks like this.
The squat machine focused on the quads, while lunges focus on the whole leg and deadlifts hone in on the hamstrings. Stiff-leg deadlifts may, in fact, be one of my favorite exercises ever. (I will never again say that about a hamstring exercise. Not unless bribed.)
Next up was a hamstring curl machine, like this one:
*Disclaimer: Totally not me. You know, in case you were confused.
One knee is planted on the knee pad while the other foot is tucked in front of the round pad. Bend the knee, lifting the foot back and bringing the round pad as close to your caboose as possible.
When I said that the hamstrings are notoriously weak, I wasn't kidding. I was curling only 20lbs, the same weight I usually curl with my biceps.
Those hamstring curls were alternated with narrow-stance squats, no weight. Three sets of each.
Last up for legs, we headed to the mats for some stability ball hamstring curls. J asked me to try it with only one leg planted on the ball, the other in the air. I tried it and couldn't even hoist my hiney off the ground. Two legs, then!
Sets of these were alternated with lateral step-ups onto a box, pulling my knee up to my chest. Surprisingly enough, these still felt relatively easy, even at the end of the workout.
I can only assume it's because they had absolutely nothing to do with my quivering, gelatinous hammies.
We wrapped with a few sets of abs, which I bravely soldiered through, and then called it good.
In retrospect, I probably set myself up for the pain. I was in a hurry after the session, a few minutes late for my son's band concert, so I rushed out the door and straight for the auditorium. I didn't walk around, I didn't stretch and I didn't fuel up. My body desperately needed something to replenish my muscles and I gave it nothing.
Small wonder that I was nearly incapacitated all week.
Until this session, I didn't realize just how weak my hamstrings were, and I realized quickly that they need all the help I can give them. So the following Saturday, the first day I was able to lean over and tie my own shoes, I made two trips to the gym. One in the morning, for another slow run, and one in the afternoon for a set of legs lifting. More squats, lunges, and deadlifts.
On Sunday, as I hobbled around my family's kitchen, my mother only shook her head at me. "Why do you do this to yourself?"
And I asked, "Why not?"
It's not a good enough answer for her, but it's good enough for me.
As a footnote - no pun intended - the plantar fasciitis definitely seems to have abated. The sole of my foot is a little stiff from time to time, but there's no pain. I've been running slowly for a little over a week now and I'm happy with how it's felt. So far, so good!
Hamstrings are the single most horrible muscle group to train. Ever.
I had an inkling of this early on, when J first had me doing these babies. We did these within the first few weeks of training, when it was all new and shiny and I still wanted to impress him with my physical prowess (har har), and it was the first exercise that made me feel like a piece of my body was trying to pop out and run away.
Every time we do legs, this is what I fear. It's not the lunges or the step-ups. It's the hamstrings.
So when I explain to you that we spent the bulk of our time on hamstrings last week, you have some idea of how I felt about it.
And when I share with you that, two days later, the very act of standing from my desk evoked the sensation of my hamstrings tearing in half, and every step was accompanied by shallow breathing more likely found in a labor ward than in an office, you understand.
At the same time that I can't overstate just how much it hurt in the following days, I also can't possibly overstate how beneficial and important the workout was. The hamstrings are a notoriously weak and neglected part of the body. They're vital for, well, everything. We just don't tend to isolate them in our exercises. Those exercises are no fun at all.
We started the night in the hack squat machine, a machine we've used once before. Those sets were alternated with lunges and stiff-leg deadlifts. This particular type of deadlift looks like this.
The squat machine focused on the quads, while lunges focus on the whole leg and deadlifts hone in on the hamstrings. Stiff-leg deadlifts may, in fact, be one of my favorite exercises ever. (I will never again say that about a hamstring exercise. Not unless bribed.)
Next up was a hamstring curl machine, like this one:
*Disclaimer: Totally not me. You know, in case you were confused.
One knee is planted on the knee pad while the other foot is tucked in front of the round pad. Bend the knee, lifting the foot back and bringing the round pad as close to your caboose as possible.
When I said that the hamstrings are notoriously weak, I wasn't kidding. I was curling only 20lbs, the same weight I usually curl with my biceps.
Those hamstring curls were alternated with narrow-stance squats, no weight. Three sets of each.
Last up for legs, we headed to the mats for some stability ball hamstring curls. J asked me to try it with only one leg planted on the ball, the other in the air. I tried it and couldn't even hoist my hiney off the ground. Two legs, then!
Sets of these were alternated with lateral step-ups onto a box, pulling my knee up to my chest. Surprisingly enough, these still felt relatively easy, even at the end of the workout.
I can only assume it's because they had absolutely nothing to do with my quivering, gelatinous hammies.
We wrapped with a few sets of abs, which I bravely soldiered through, and then called it good.
In retrospect, I probably set myself up for the pain. I was in a hurry after the session, a few minutes late for my son's band concert, so I rushed out the door and straight for the auditorium. I didn't walk around, I didn't stretch and I didn't fuel up. My body desperately needed something to replenish my muscles and I gave it nothing.
Small wonder that I was nearly incapacitated all week.
Until this session, I didn't realize just how weak my hamstrings were, and I realized quickly that they need all the help I can give them. So the following Saturday, the first day I was able to lean over and tie my own shoes, I made two trips to the gym. One in the morning, for another slow run, and one in the afternoon for a set of legs lifting. More squats, lunges, and deadlifts.
On Sunday, as I hobbled around my family's kitchen, my mother only shook her head at me. "Why do you do this to yourself?"
And I asked, "Why not?"
It's not a good enough answer for her, but it's good enough for me.
As a footnote - no pun intended - the plantar fasciitis definitely seems to have abated. The sole of my foot is a little stiff from time to time, but there's no pain. I've been running slowly for a little over a week now and I'm happy with how it's felt. So far, so good!
Friday, May 4, 2012
ONE-derland! (In two ways!)
Tonight, I weighed in at 199.
For real.
Also tonight, I got back on the treadmill for the first time since my 5K and hurting my foot. D'you know what I did?
I ran for over a mile without stopping. 1.21 miles before my breathing couldn't keep up anymore.
The weight made me laugh and the running made me cry the happiest of tears. Right now, sitting on my couch and typing this, I feel a little empty. Bewildered. As if, for one brief moment, I have accomplished everything.
It won't last. There are other mountains to climb. That important little pound has so many friends I need to get rid of, and I'm pretty sure I won't survive the impending zombie apocalypse if I can only run a mile.
But here, I am satisfied. I can rest now.
For real.
Also tonight, I got back on the treadmill for the first time since my 5K and hurting my foot. D'you know what I did?
I ran for over a mile without stopping. 1.21 miles before my breathing couldn't keep up anymore.
The weight made me laugh and the running made me cry the happiest of tears. Right now, sitting on my couch and typing this, I feel a little empty. Bewildered. As if, for one brief moment, I have accomplished everything.
It won't last. There are other mountains to climb. That important little pound has so many friends I need to get rid of, and I'm pretty sure I won't survive the impending zombie apocalypse if I can only run a mile.
But here, I am satisfied. I can rest now.
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