Exploring

Wow.  You know the saying about when a door closes, a window opens?  Well, I told the universe I was ready for a change, and doors and windows were all blown to kingdom come.  I recognize that if I try to follow all the possibilities I’ll be as shattered as said doors and windows, so I’m going to take deep breaths and force myself to slow down.  I’m going for whelmed here, not overwhelmed.

One of the ideas I’m exploring is vegetarianism.  As long as I’m developing healthy eating habits, why not explore something that’s been deep within me for years?  The seeds were planted way back in my childhood when I’d chew (and chew and chew) overcooked pot roasts and start thinking of what exactly I was chewing.  The first and last time I tried ribs, the smoky/fleshy smell zipped my memory straight back into the oral surgeon’s chair while he burned away the roof of my mouth in order to expose impacted teeth.  When I come across veins and rubbery things when preparing chicken, I feel ill.  And fish just isn’t an option.  The only meat I’ve been comfortable with has been meat in disguise: so processed into a hot dog or deli meat that I can fool myself into thinking they’re made from grains and water.  And what’s the point of eating fatty, salty, processed materials?

Another idea I’m exploring is yoga.  When I look at yoga books or DVDs and see poses my body is not designed for, I cringe and question.  But when I dig deeper and learn about the mind/body balance aspect, I feel more confident that yoga may be a useful tool for me.  And happily I know of at least three yoga instructors in my area.

I toyed with the idea of vegetarianism in the past, but wasn’t mature enough to handle the commitment.  I still may not be ready, but at least I’m mature enough to realize that.  For the most part, I’m excited about eating according to my inner voice.  I’m hoping that yoga, along with prayer and counseling, will help me clarify that inner voice in regards to not just food and fitness, but self.

And I’m excited for more bike rides and hikes, learning tennis from a Friend, and kayaking next summer.  And two triathlons next year.  J

Diary of a Fat Girl

Dear Diary,

I got on the scale this morning for the first time since before surgery.  My heart must be in excellent health, for it didn’t suffer an attack when I saw that I’ve gained 6 pounds(!).  I’m not going to kid myself and say that the scale doesn’t matter, that my body is healing, and or any of those other cozy excuses.  The fact is that my banishment from exercise is not a license to eat whatever rubbish my taste buds happen to desire.  And yet, that’s just what’s happened.  Frosting a birthday cake?  Eat a few spoonfuls!  Cookie-like granola bars?  Eat ‘em and blame the kids!  Want some salt?  Don’t bat an eye while consuming a single serve bag of Doritos!

What is wrong with me?  Why can’t I beat this salt-sugar-fat kick?

I love exercise and I want to be an athlete again.  Sure I broke my jaw playing softball, flew over the handlebars of my bike, get cramps in my side when I run, and was made fun of whenever I tried activities at school.  That hasn't stopped the athletic desire within.

When exercise is in my life, at least I can prevent this food addiction from adding pounds to my body.  But as this year of minimal weight loss proves, food addiction is preventing me from achieving a healthy body.  My mind isn’t healthy, therefore neither is my body.  My fat thighs are not a symbol of my weakness or stupidity, but of something broken deep within.

The herd mentality of Weight Watchers wasn’t the answer.  Solitary prayer and willpower haven’t been the answer.  I am thinking of finding a counselor to work one-on-one with me, exploring my addiction and helping me to overcome it.  While I watched The Biggest Loser last night, I felt myself responding to conversations relating to healing.  Those scenes struck me so deeply that I dreamed about the trainers cum counselors, and even dreamed about borrowing a friend’s camcorder to make an audition tape so that I could work with them.

But awake, I know that I can’t be away from my family for that length of time.  Once again, I acknowledge the need to find a way to get healthy in, not away from, my life.

I don’t want to be like those contestants who think they’re healthy and are surprised with the news that they’re diabetic.  I don’t want to think I’m healthy and be shocked with heart disease.  I don’t want to contribute to my early death.

I forgive myself for my mistakes; I accept my imperfections; I pray for help; and I will take action.

Kim & Kate Are Great!

It's about time I let them know: Kim and Kate, you are motivating me to do my best until I can hit the gym and really do my best. 

Kim is a friend from high school days.  I haven’t seen her since the early 90s and beyond her online photo, I have no idea what she looks like.  But I know she’s feeling and looking great because every now and then, she changes her profile picture to a new decade.  She was in the 60s for a while; I don’t remember the 70s; then the 80s; and now, seemingly in the blink of an eye, the 90s!  That’s incredible!  These decades represent how many pounds she’s lost.

Kim doesn’t whine about the gym or what she can’t eat.  She rarely mentions what she’s doing, unless she’s had a really good something or made a good choice.

Kate is my 21^st century friend.  She’s a beautiful young woman, and mom to a houseful of children.  Some time ago she complimented me on a dress I was wearing and said she wanted to drop some pounds.  Over the past couple of weeks, Kate’s weight loss has been plain to see.  She looks amazing!

As far as I know, Kate doesn’t spend her time thinking about what she can or can’t eat.  But she’s clearly doing something right.

Kim & Kate: Thanks for showing me by example that I need to quit thinking about it and just do it.  You are both excellent role models for me, and you remind me that weight loss is possible.  I’m so happy for you in your success and can’t wait to achieve what you’ve achieved. 

Robbie Burns, Woody Allen, & me

If only I'd listened! 

In his 1785 poem "To a mouse, on her turning up in her nest with the plough," Robert Burns wrote:

The best-laid schemes o' mice an 'men Gang aft agley.

No, that’s not a bunch of typos.  To Americanize it, we turn to Woody Allen: "If you want to make God laugh, tell him about your plans."

Well that’s what happened to me.  Earlier this week the fire in my belly was burning brightly and I was ready to go!  Not quite arc trainer/lap swim/lift weights ready, but ready to get on my newly repaired bike and (cue Martina McBride): RIDE!  I not only thought it, but I wrote it.  And God noticed.

  Ah-choo.  Cough.  Spin the room and labor my breathing while I walk up the stairs.  It's just a cold.  A little bike ride wouldn’t hurt.

  Oh wait.  No matter which direction I go, streets are under construction!  Repaving to the east; water main work to the south; deep hole to Lord-knows-where to the west; and north is out of the question since I haven’t yet mastered the skill of biking on water. 

(view from the end of my street, a photo I took earlier this week)

  Although if this rain keeps up though, I may outfit my bike a la Chitty Chitty Bang Bang! 

Image Source Page: http://www.onlytoptens.com/all/top-ten-famous-film-cars/ 

 I'm not complaining, I LOVE the rain!  Sing it, Steve Holy!

   So you know what this means?   The Man Upstairs is telling me to hit the drawing board again about what I eat.  One of my goals is to be working with my trainer again shortly after my early October birthday, and if I don’t want her to pummel me, I’d better not look as if I’ve been eating donuts for breakfast (just one, I swear, and it was plain with no yummy goo on it!).

  Today is Friday.  That means it's Meal Planning Day and Farmers' Market Day.  Healthy recipes are lurking, veggies are calling, and I would do well to get it right this time.  Lord only knows what He'll do if I don't!



Recuperated

Since the last time I wrote, I've walked to the end of my street,

made plenty of cookies to share (and a couple to eat),



and done a fine job of healing.

Today I took my bike to the shop for repairs, and I can pick her up tomorrow.

I'm ready to bike, exercise without jarring.

I'm ready for Biggest Loser 12 to start tonight.

I'm ready to get back on the path of my journey.

I'm ready.

What I learned at Open House

Last night was Open House at my eldest’s school.  Armed with his middle school schedule, I mimicked his day through 10-minute classes, with 4 minutes between.  Each of the teachers gave a presentation, ranging from topics they’ll cover to their teaching philosophies.  Going into the evening, I wondered about the teachers’ impressions of my son and tried to reconcile his class descriptions of the teachers with the professionals before me.  I was prepared for the usual Intro To My Class type talks, but I came away with so much more.  Three teachers made particularly strong impressions. 

Mr. G

My son starts his day with a high energy force of nature, Mr. G.  Balancing in a wobbly-legged desk while taking in the presentation, I was struck by Mr. G’s enthusiasm and couldn’t help but see why he is so popular.  Take a can of pop, shake it up, and let it rip – that’s the kind of energy Mr. G brings to school.

But he was more than energy.  In his note to the parents, he touched on differentiated learning; that is, that different students learn differently.  And in his talk, he gave examples of noticing students’ engagement, or lack thereof, and of how he head-on challenges them to work harder, to expand their abilities.

From Mr. G I took the lesson that I need to stay focused, and if I find myself losing focus, I need to use my energies to find create a new path toward my goal.

Mrs. K

It’s impossible to speak of teacher Mrs. K and not say the word coach.  Frankly, this fact made me a little nervous.  Sure my kids have had, and do have, other teachers who are coaches, but the fact that coach is almost always used in connection with the name Mrs. K worried me a little.  Would she be so much Coach that she’d lack at Teacher?

Once again I was in the presence of an energetic, organized person.  Mrs. K’s energy is accompanied with smiles; the Os on her board were filled with smiley faces.  Mrs. K shared with us the nuts & bolts, but then she moved into the good stuff: her expectations of the kids, not in her classroom but as people who will go on to live full lives.  She stressed the importance – even in science – of being able to read well, write well, and speak well.  She stressed well-roundedness and described projects the kids will create, which reach all the way to the White House.

From Mrs. K I took away that she is a teacher and a coach.  It is possible to be multi-faceted: for me to integrate all the pieces of who I am.

Mrs. S

Since my son had Mrs. S last year, I had an idea of what to expect when I sat down at a table in her classroom.  I was ready to be impressed beyond joy by her professionalism, knowledge, kindness, and respect.  Sure enough, she delivered.  She showed us how well our kids performed her last year, and then she raised the bar. 

Mrs. S showed us how she’ll work with the kids do go broader and deeper.  Once again I offered prayers of thanks for her.

And then she dropped the bomb.  She’s going to help our kids fight perfectionism.  I could have hugged her!  Not only is she teaching academics and challenge and perseverance, but she’s teaching it within a very conscious framework of a healthy mindset.

From Mrs. S I took everything I love about learning and projects, about preparedness and composure… and grounding them in imperfect humanity.

Last night’s Open House was a walk down memory lane: bumping through the hallways of a bustling school; feeling geeky because no one else was carrying a notebook; and wondering what the teachers would think of me, though this time as a parent.  It was a shot in the arm about my son’s education, chockfull of lessons for me.  I’m grateful for these fine men and women who teach my son every day, and me along the way.

Out of the fog

In times of stress, I suffer waking dreams.  They’re an awful part of my sleep during which my mind is awake, but my entire body is asleep and unresponsive to my brain's commands.  It’s awful and I hate it: trying to use sheer willpower to force my eyes to open, my body to stir, to release my mind from its prison.  I find that the only way out is to sort of spiral into oblivion, which is easier said than done.

To a much lesser degree, I’m feeling like my whole life is in a waking dream these days.  Each day I feel more lucid than the day before, and when I think back to my actions of the day before, I ask myself, “What was I thinking?”  I remember my tremendous ability to ignore my healthy brain's concern about snacking on tortilla chips for a day or so when all I wanted to eat was salt. 

When the doctor first told me that I’d be off exercise (for a month!), I thought only of my ear – of the stitches keeping it closed and attached to my head.  But each day as I come more into myself, I’m finding that it's not just the stitches keeping me sedate.  My body is working so hard to deal with the trauma of surgery and to repair itself that it takes climbing the stairs or walking to the corner as an affront, leaving me breathing hard, with my pulse pounding in my ear.  I wonder how long this'll last.

I worry a lot about losing muscle.  In addition to 5-6 days of cardio each week, I’d been lifting weights twice a week regularly, and I know that if I don’t use it, I’ll lose it.  I dread seeing numbers sliding down the scale, fearing that it’s lost muscle; heaven knows that fat never melts in any sort of hurry.  I try to tell myself that even though I’m not exercising, I’m still burning calories, so maybe a lower number isn’t the end of the world.  My wedding ring fits more loosely now than it has in quite a while.

Even this morning as I grabbed three stale, soft cookies to have with my protein shake and banana, I felt myself waking up a little.  I ate the cookies, even while I knew they were absolutely useless for my body.  I wanted them, plain and simple.  But here’s the progress: I logged into my food-tracking account, and I tracked those cookie calories (150). 

Then, after some debate, I decided to drop my calorie allowance, but not unsafely low.  I needed to drop it to a point where I’ll see that all my calories have to make my body healthy and strong again.  In my current state of semi-vegetation, I’ve got no room for empty calories.

Coincidentally, I received an email notifying me that a book I requested from the library is now ready to be picked up.  It's the companion to the calorie-tracking web site I use.    I requested the book way back in August, but I haven't been ready for it till now.  I take its arrival today as a little sign that it's okay to start looking forward, that there is a Way through the fog.