Things Change

Blogger didn't like my browser any more so until I figured out what it did like I've been unable to post anything here.  Or rather, I did post two new entries this year but Blogger ate them.  Someone responded to one of them and to that someone I say "Sorry.  I hope you'll post again".

Here's where things stand: one broken wrist, now healing; one new trainer and one new gym membership, very expensive.  No weigh-ins at Weight Watchers since early December; too lazy.

Despite everything I'm maintaining my 65-pound weight loss.  I've come to understand that I eat according to a plan and rarely deviate from it so I don't gain weight.  I've also managed to develop sufficient muscle mass that I burn calories efficiently.

The new trainer has me on a regime which is totally new and extremely creative, taking me from the ground up, so to speak.  For the first two weeks I never got off the mat.  The exercises seem to have their roots in Pilates and are structured to help restore my stability and sense of balance.  They are designed to make me a better runner, which is great news because I've signed up for Harry's Spring Run-off again for April.

I'm working hard at physiotherapy with a chiropractor who owns the new gym.  I feel guilty for abandoning Dr. Wade but this guy has helped design my new fitness regime and for that I'll pay big money.  Insurance may take care of some of it.

Some time in the next few weeks I have to find a scale and check on my weight but everything seems to be holding steady and all clothes still fit.  If they don't I can buy more from my new job.  Who knew I would wind up working in the fashion industry?  Whatever.  I like it.  I no longer have to feel responsible for anyone except myself.  I felt way too much pressure in the past to help others get where I did.  It can't be done.  They need to get there themselves.

Back to Basics

It's been a while.

A painful experience has put me back almost at the beginning, training-wise, thanks to a fractured wrist.  I slipped on the ice at the end of the year and broke my right wrist.  It's the first time I've been so incapacitated. Being right-handed and possessing a low pain threshold I was rendered almost helpless.

I spent just short of five weeks in a cast,.  During this time I think Higgie discovered just how much stuff I really  do around the house when every task, including cooking fell to him.  Consequently, I have a very untidy house with floors that haven't been mopped in weeks and dust everywhere but Higgie's knife skills have improved.

Walking the dog (which was what I was doing when the accident occurred) has been a challenge; I have to tie her leash to my belt loop to keep her from pulling too hard.  Walking is the only activity I have been able to enjoy, however and Lily and I have had some wonderful long walks together while I did some soul-searching about the nature of injuries and how they affect us.  I had to return the beautiful fashionable winter boots I had purchased and get ones I could put on with one hand.  I also bought traction devices to attach to the soles so I would have more grip (and confidence) when walking.

The cast came off yesterday and I am stiff and sore this morning but having it removed has enabled me to type almost as well as I ever could, which isn't very well at all..  I begin physiotherapy today at a new clinic located where my old gym used to be.  It's a combination gym and health centre and to that end I'm going to purchase a short-term membership so that they can integrate my physio into a fitness program for me.  Other than walking I've done no fitness regime since the accident and have been forced to monitor my food intake very carefully to avoid weight gain.  Even so, I think I have put on a few pounds.  I also know I've lost considerable strength and agility.  So, it's back to basics.  Will it be like starting all over again?  We'll see.

If It Works....

Paranoia.  That's all I can describe it as.  I keep thinking I've gained weight.  Not owning a scale or having ready access to one like I used to makes me constantly wonder about my weight.  People say, 'Go by how your clothes are fitting,' but that doesn't work for me because some have stretch fibres and some don't.  What if they're fresh out of the dryer?  Some days my jeans feel tight and others not.  The jeans have no stretch.  My sweats, which normally hang off me. were tight when I put them on the other night.

Why am I so obsessed with a number?  Where does weight gain begin?  In my opinion, it's when you stop paying attention.  Two pounds becomes five, and so it goes.  Since the end of boot camp I haven't had a lot of activity except for walking in our very hilly neighbourhood.  Therefore, it's fair to assume that I'm not burning calories as I ought to or once did.

So, with all this in mind I finally got myself back to the club to begin my winter work out routine.  I made it there twice last week for two 30 minute power work outs and weighed myself on the ancient triple beam balance scale in the ladies' room.  It told me good news; that I was two pounds below goal.  I also finally made it to a Weight Watchers meeting where I weighed in at one pound below goal.

What this all points to are several things: 1.) I'm paranoid, but a bit of healthy paranoia never hurt anyone who wants to maintain a significant weight loss.  2.) I have developed sufficient muscle mass that I go on burning calories even when I'm not involved in strenuous activity.  3.) Parts of me (like my bum) may have lost some muscle tone so my pants fit differently -i.e- my body has changed shape.

But most importantly, I have to remember that I have developed a pattern of eating from which I don't deviate.  If my portion sizes remain the same and the type of meals and snacks don't vary too much, if I limit the number of Christmas treats, then weight gain will not be an issue.  In other words, I need to have faith in a system that works which I set in place years ago.  Like the saying goes, 'If it works, don't fix it'. 

Which is not to say I don't need to move more.  Off to the gym.

It's Over

Sadly, boot camp has ended for another year.  On Wednesday we concede to the fact that the weather is just not going to allow us to continue so I will pack away my long-sleeved shirts and look for a way to continue training indoors.  We may purchase some personal training sessions and train once a week at the weight lifters gym we went to last year.  We have also renewed our membership at the Balmy Beach club so we can use the fitness room there.  Once again, a new fitness facility is opening on the site of my old gym.  I'll investigate it as well.  I'm walking more and more.  And there'll be skiing!  So I won't be sitting still.  I'm also thinking about participating in the 'Hair of the Dog' run on New Years Day sponsored by the Balmy Beach club.  It's a 9K run which starts at noon so it gives me plenty of time to wake up on New Years Day.

I'm going for a weigh in on Saturday and to hear about the changes that have been made to the Weight Watchers program.  Since reaching Lifetime status I don't often go to meetings anymore and I rarely count points unless it's a new food.  I've been eating roughly the same amount and types of foods for five years now so they should definitely keep me where I want to stay as long as my activity level remains high.  Have I discovered the secret to weight loss?  Who knew it was as simple as eat healthy foods in small amounts and move more?

Am I the Same Girl?

In near-freezing temperatures, once again with very little sleep, I ventured out for boot camp this morning.  It was hill training day and we chose a street in the neighbourhood with a short, steep slope.  I set a goal for myself to run it six times and I'm happy to report that I did it. 

While running I heard this song on my IPod.  I have a fondness for old R&B and it has a nice steady beat for running to.  When you get to the chorus you'll see where the title for this post comes from.  As I felt my muscles warming up and my whole body rising to the challenge of tackling the hill I heard my brain responding to the chorus; 'Am I the same girl?  Yes, I am, yes I am'.  And I am.  I'm the same girl who used to feel victorious after tackling a hill, finishing a race or doing an hour's training.  I feel like I've lost touch with that girl but she's still there.

To that end, I have to go back and do what worked before.  I think I've gained a few pounds so I want to return to a Weight Watchers meeting, not just for the weigh-in, but to touch base with all my weight loss buddies and remember that I'm still the same girl who likes a few more bevvies than is good for her and who thinks she's smarter than any weight loss program.  So, this Saturday will find me where it used to be, with bum on seat at the meeting where I first began losing weight nearly five years ago.  I'm looking forward to seeing some of the people I used to know and being inspired by their stories.  I'll try very hard to put the past where it belongs and retain only what is relevant to my moving forward.  It's all I can do.

I'm Human

It's been a month since I last posted here and I wish I had more to report than the simple discovery that I am, after all, only human.  I've been letting my training slip by not making it to my Sunday walking group.  Boot camp has been rained out a lot, as well as the fact that I was on holiday for a week.  I have no idea what I weigh, having skipped weekly weigh-ins now for several weeks.  Where is all this taking me, I wondered?

Yesterday at boot camp I gave a dismal performance.  I ran the first warm-up mile just fine; better than fine, I thought, but the subsequent ten minutes of interval training left me weak, breathless and so exhausted that I could barely do any strength training.  It is not like me to wimp out on things like push-ups or pull-ups but I found I just had no strength.  The trainer said I had burned out doing the warm-up mile too quickly but I didn't think so.

The previous night had found me up several times cleaning up after the puppy.  I think Lily ate something in the garden, like a Gladiola bulb.  We were cleaning up the garden on Sunday afternoon getting ready for winter and one of the little offset bulbs may have landed on the ground when I pulled them up.  Everything she finds on the ground goes in her mouth.  All I know is, now I have two rugs to shampoo.  At 2:00 a.m. you do NOT want to do what I was doing.  So that's where the tiredness could have come from.

The other problem is asthma.  I was first diagnosed with it about 15 years ago when I still smoked.  Asthma induced by smoking would suggest to me that it involves permanent damage, but I went off my meds voluntarily this summer because I felt so well I decided I didn't need them anymore.  My doctor was cautious and suggested I should just have one puff of my inhaler per day but I didn't even do that.  Lately I have noticed a 'heaviness' or feeling of obstruction in my bronchi.  I know this means I need my meds.  While on holiday, the extreme humidity and dampness in certain parts of Bermuda meant that I had to rely heavily on my asthma meds and the tightness and obstruction quickly went away.  Now it's back.

So, yesterday, on returning from boot camp I fell into bed, not even bothering to shower and dozed for a few hours.  I woke up feeling none the better.  I took Lily out for a walk.  I thought some gentle walking and fresh air might help.  Foolishly, I let her off the leash and she took off.  Round and round the baseball diamond she ran, score imaginary home run after home run.  She ran under the bleachers and hid from every attempt I made to put her leash back on.  She drank from every puddle.  I couldn't run after her (and it would have only made matters worse) and I was becoming upset and even more breathless when a young man and his Golden Retriever appeared and helped bring her back to me.  On the way home I was so exhausted I was almost crying.

Once home Lily vomited puddle water three times, once on the living room rug which had received other of her ministrations the night before.  I figured I had better deal with the rug while the sun was still shining so I wrestled it out on to the front porch to steam-clean it, nearly passing out in the process.  I have a mini steam cleaner which meant I had to squat or crouch while using it.  That involved much huffing and puffing on my part and when I was done I felt a bit shaky.

I wobbled back into the house and collapsed on the couch.  I tearfully asked myself "What's wrong with me?" and the answer came loudly and clearly; "You're sick, you dummy!"  And so it was that I conceded that gee, maybe I'm not well. 

Last night I went to bed at 8:30 p.m.  This morning I woke up at 9:30 a.m. when HIggie suggested that maybe thirteen hours of sleep was more than enough.  I do feel better but it's going to be a slow and cautious recovery.  And yes, I am taking my meds.  My asthma is NOT cured, I am not superwoman, and I will, occasionally let my training slide or even gain a few pounds.  I'm human.  So shoot me.

Not Giving Up

Last weekend Higgie and I participated in the Terry Fox Run.  This is an annual 5 and 10K fun run to raise money for cancer research which has been ongoing for the past 30 years.  Terry Fox was a young Canadian who lost his leg to bone cancer but did not give up his dream of becoming a long distance runner.  Instead, he took his dream across Canada by running on his artificial limb, beginning in St. John's, Newfoundland and ending, when ill health left him no choice, just north of Thunder Bay, near the Manitoba border.  He undertook this enormous task to raise awareness for cancer and the need for further research and funding.  He was 18 years old.  Shortly after giving up his run he died when his cancer returned.

This was the third year we have participated in this run.  Since cancer has claimed the lives of people in both our families and touched us again most recently when Higgie's dad was diagnosed with rectal cancer we feel it is a moral obligation to participate.  Here's a picture of us, post-run:

Since last weekend I've had a less-than-stellar week.  Boot camp was canceled Wednesday when my trainer injured his back, so my training has fallen behind.  I've had no more offers of work and I was turned down for unemployment insurance benefits so I'm utterly broke.  I've been feeling, if truth be told, like an abject failure.  One day this week was spent entirely in avoidance of the real world by playing computer games and napping. 

I forced myself out of the depths yesterday by bringing my mother home for lunch.  It was a perfect Fall day with lots of warm sunshine and no humidity.  I made a roaring fire in the chiminea in my backyard and Lily consented to be a lap dog for the afternoon.  I can't consider myself a failure if I am able to make one old lady this happy:

Later, yesterday afternoon I looked at ads in the local community newspaper and saw a job posting that intrigued me.  I may send out a resume today.  Here's what I've learned from running and the legacy of Terry Fox: you can't give up.  If you do, then you can't say you tried.  No one is a failure at everything.  Terry Fox didn't fail because he didn't make it all the way across Canada.  If he had stayed home and just thought about running he wouldn't be remembered in the way that he is today.  I don't expect to be remembered in the hearts of Canadians the way he is but I would like to be able to say at the end of my life (as did he, no doubt) that I never gave up. There's always something you can do, no matter how small and we all contribute.