Just Like Sherlock Holmes

For the past few months I've been re-reading the works of Arthur Conan Doyle and enjoying Masterpiece's presentations on PBS.  The stories have provided escape from the here and now of life after my dad.

It was my dad who taught me that Holmes dabbled in cocaine;they didn't teach us that part in school.  Sure enough when I read the stories on my own, there it was.  But you know how (if you're lucky) every time you read a story you get something new out of it?  That happened to me this time around.

I was reading Doyle's  The Adventure of the Missing Three-Quarter (The Strand Magazine, 1904) when I came across this paragraph, of Watson describing Holmes: 
Things had indeed been very slow with us, and I had learned to dread such periods of inaction, for I knew by experience that my companion's brain was so abnormally active that it was dangerous to leave it without material upon which to work.  For years I had gradually weaned him from that drug mania which had threatened once to check his remarkable career.  Now I knew that under ordinary conditions he no longer craved for this artificial stimulus, but I was well aware that the fiend was not dead, but sleeping; and I have known that the sleep was a light one and the waking near when in periods of idleness I have seen the drawn look upon Holmes's ascetic face, and the brooding of his deep-set and inscrutable eyes.

Yep, Sherlock, I know how you feel.  When I'm active and my mind is engaged, it's easy to stay on the straight and narrow.  But when life's greatest adventures are laundry and dirty dishes -- when I'm as restless as a polar bear in a zoo enclosure in July, my habit has been The Adventure of the Salt or Sugar. 

Now, it doesn't take a Sherlock Holmes to realize the danger in this behavior, but it does take courage to move out of the familiar to take on new challenges, a bit of confidence in one's self and abilities, and a Watson to lend a little support.  As I wrote earlier this week, I'm working on rebuilding my confidence and I've already found a little of it.  I've also got more Watsons than I deserve.  So now it's time for adventure again. 

Yoga and confidence

Once upon a time it was not at all unusual to find me singing along to the radio (or on my own) or whistling a happy tune.  As a matter of fact, I remember plaguing my poor teacher by demonstrating my whistling abilities while we walked from the gym, across the parking lot, and to the school.  I'm not sure whether that's the same teacher I invited to come to our house for a spaghetti dinner (yep, I liked learning and those who helped me to learn.)

For the past few weeks I've had Julie Andrews singing "I Have Confidence" in my head, but it felt more like a taunt than an anthem because I lost every ounce of confidence I gained last year, the Year of Karin.  Newspaper contest, triathlon, breakwall swim?  Gone, gone, and gone.  I can barely believe I'm the same person who accomplished those tasks. 

But I am the same person, and that stupid song hasn't left me alone; it's like the universe calling me back out of myself.

The universe, in the form of a Friend or two, has been whispering Yoga at me.  I've got a Friend who can now to headstands, and whose devotion to Yoga is inspiring.  Another friend conducts Yoga classes at Shore Cultural Center, and finally last night I made it to a class.

I went in to the class with huge reservations, particularly that there's only so much room to squish one's body, and I was pretty sure I'd never maneuver into the poses.  But trusting the instructor - her support and good humor - I was willing to give it a try.

The peacefulness reached my soul.  And since our room's windows faced the green leafy treetops (highways for squirrels and birds) rather than mirrors, and since I didn't tip over, I'm pretty sure that I accomplished at least a close approximation of the poses. 

I particularly liked the tree and the warrior, both of which are similar to exercises I used in weight training (way back when).  The memory of weight training, of encouragement of past coaches, and the realization that I was trying and doing began to reawaken my confidence.

I'm still afraid of injury and of being mocked, but I've got a start. And I've got the memory of what I can do. And I've got the desire to try and to do.

Will you go into the kitchen with me?

Without a doubt, my greatest weight loss challenge is food.  As you may recall, last November I accepted the fact that eating meat makes me miserable and so I quit eating it.

Yesterday I was so hungry that I envisioned eating a chicken breast or an Italian meat sub.  I was hungry - starved for protein - because I haven't taken the time to plan meals for weeks.  Between my dad's death and a host of illnesses in my household - including pneumonia - I haven't had the wherewithal to look at cookbooks, let alone prepare nutritious meals.

The result?  Shoveling in quantity rather than quality.  And how are my body and spirit supposed to heal without nutrients.

Thanks to a few days' worth of antibiotics, I've mustered the energy to look up some recipes.  One of my favorite sites for interesting recipes is Chef Chloe.  The site doesn't have as many recipes as does her book (which is available in libraries), but I found a few entrees to put on next week's menu.

I continue to struggle with wanting to eat - but not make - salads.  It strikes me that salads are like losing weight: the outcome is awesome, but getting there can be monotonous.  As I think about it, I remember how pleased I was when I saw a friend preparing a salad, and rather than tear each individual leaf by hand, she grabbed a few leaves and sliced with a knife as a bunch.

My point is:  I'd love to know YOUR go-to places for recipes, particularly vegetarian, or at least nutritious for the meat-eaters in my household, YOUR salad secrets, and how YOU go about planning meals. 

Why I Went To The Gym On May 14

1.  On May 13 I got a look at my upper arms.  That alone should have been motivation enough, but I don't think it would have been.

2.  Also on May 13 I attended a Singing Angels.  The Angels' enthusiasm gave me back a spark of life.

3.  Like me, my workout partner didn't get to the gym last week.She told me yesterday that she was afraid she was going to stop trying altogether.  I didn't want her to give up, and if it meant me going to the gym, then so be it.

4.  Since I've made up my mind that getting healthy is up to me and not up to anyone else -- since I've accepted that my health is my responsibility -- I have a new motivation to simply do the best I can.  I know what to do, and so I'll follow the greatest ad campaign ever: Just do it. 

Sunday, May 6: Dear Diary

Dear Diary,

The pendulum is swinging back the other way, and I'm once again tending away from the idea of rejoining WW.  As you know I've been struggling, really struggling, with this decision for weeks.  On the one hand I have the earnest look in my doctor's eyes as she told me years ago "WW works."  On that same hand is also the success I had in the past with WW, namely dropping 55 pounds.

On the other hand is the experience of hearing the same topics month after month, the environment of processed foods, and the routine of start out strong, lose interest, and do it all over again.

Late this week I was almost ready to log on to the web site and hand over my credit card info.  I was this close, I tell you.  And yet one thing or another came up to prevent my card, the computer, and me from being in the same place at the same time.

On Friday I a WW magazine ad featuring an NBA player.  Yesterday I saw a WW television commercial featuring a celebrity singer.  And I got to thinking, "Wait a minute.  I bet those celebrities come with a great big dollar sign.  Can I afford to pay a company to pay celebrities?"

That little jolt, along with some common sense found in Chubster by Martin Cizmar, have given me the nudge I need to try - once again - to take responsibility for my actions.  It's something I need to teach my kids if there's any hope that they'll grow up emotionally and physically healthy.  How can I expect my kids to learn to clean up after themselves when I don't do so myself?  How can I expect them to make sound financial decisions when I fail to do so?  How can I expect them to make good food choices, to be active, and not dependant on a multi-billion dollar industry? 

I'm going to figure this out so that I can help them figure it out.

my musical pick-me-ups

Thankfully I have a rich musical repertoire in running 'round my mind, and my Self seems to know where to find what it needs in there.

This morning on the radio I heard Shonlock's Hello ("there's so much more to who you are"), and that seemed to unlock things for me.

A short while later I had Whitney Houston's voice singing "a lonely place to be, and so I learned to depend on me."

And then Brett Michaels "give me something to believe in."

I've got ideas about how to move forward now.  Basically I need to move.  Not treadmill move, but fun move -- like my dog spazzing out over her favorite ball.

I need to be a little brave and get back into a group exercise 'cause I love those.  I've never found anyone in them to be anything but supportive and inspiring.

Gonna find the beat again.  Sugarland.

Lost

Being lost wouldn't be so bad if I knew who could help me find my way.  The past six months or seem in some ways to have been one blow after another: surgery, my dog's death, my dad's death, and a lingering injury. 

In the midst of this I've lost confidence in my Self and in my ability to workout and to not be a slave to food.  I'm spending so much time healing that there's not much left for anything else.

But I want to get back to healthy in mind and body.  I want to find my way.  And that lets me know that all is not lost, that I haven't succumbed. 

Now if someone would just give me a map and hold my hand, maybe I can find my way again.