Sometimes Things Just Work Out

It's been nearly six months since I last posted anything here. It's been a bit of a rocky road. There have been frictions and fractions in both my personal and professional life. I have found on more than one occasion that my no-nonsense, just-do-it attitude towards weight loss and fitness has rubbed people the wrong way. As I've stated often enough, I made all those 'I can't' remarks myself. Heck, I was the original 'I can't' girl until I discovered it was really just a case of 'I don't want to because it's hard'.

So, I decided to remain positive and hopeful and believe that things would work out. If my approach to a healthier lifestyle was working, I had to be doing something right, wouldn't you think? And it turns out I was right.

 I obsessed for a few months about not having regular weigh-ins and where that would lead me. I didn't stick to my regimen of working out on my own at the beach because it was just too hot this past summer. So, I became less fit and gained five pounds. I was forced to conclude I had no choice but to go back to working with a trainer, so with money set aside for travel I bought us a year's membership at the fitness studio where I trained this past winter. I also went back to running on the boardwalk at the beach. Result:  Stronger, fitter, thinner. Poorer too! But not in spirit.

About that spirit: renewed faith in my ability to stay thin and fit meant renewed faith in life going in the direction I wanted it to. Difficulties in the workplace resolved themselves in an almost storybook fashion. It's like I had a fairy godmother, but she's really just a new manager who has a similar outlook on life to mine. We get along; no friction there. I knew I had landed on my feet when I told her about people finding my approach to weight loss a bit abrasive and hard to take. She said "You can't save the world." And she's right.

Several of the gospels quote Jesus as saying "Let those who have ears hear". If there is a message here for anyone to understand it is said best in the quote below:

"Living well is the best revenge."
                                                - George Herbert 1593 - 1633 - English poet

Gratitude

People have told me I'm lucky to have been able to embrace a healthier lifestyle.  I'm not a believer in luck - or should I say I see luck the way Stephen Leacock, the legendary Canadian writer and humourist once put it?  He said "I'm a great believer in Luck.  I've found that the harder I work the luckier I get".

Rather than feeling lucky these days I feel grateful.  I'm grateful that I have learned what I needed to do in order to stay fit and healthy and that I also do them.  Many people are smart enough to know about calories in vs. calories out but how many are willing to act upon that knowledge?  If I sound smug I don't care.  I've seen too many people talk themselves out of whatever they need to do because they are so sure they can't.  It really means 'won't'.

To that end, having given up my gym membership temporarily, I vowed to continue working out on my own throughout the summer.  I miss not having a trainer, if just for the opportunity to learn new ways of working out, but I'm glad I'm able to put to use some of the techniques I've learned over the last few months.  I've been using the fitness room at the club we belong to exercising with Higgie and a friend of ours outdoors at the beach ever since the weather turned warm.  Higgie went to work early this morning and our friend was a no-show but I still worked out.  Why?  Especially since I was so tired from a long and grueling weekend at work?  because I know I have to.  And for that I'm grateful.

Can't = Won't

Lately it has occurred to me that people treat being overweight like a disability.  Of course, it goes without saying that being overweight can lead to all sorts of health problems, Type II Diabetes and Osteoarthritis just to name a few .

I'm reminded of the episode of "The Simpsons" when Homer learns that his company has a provision that allows the disabled to work from home.  Furthermore, he discovers that obesity is considered a disability and so he sets out to eat as many donuts as he can in order to qualify.  What he finds it that being housebound and unable to move is lonely and boring.  So it begs the question, why be a prisoner in your own skin?

Why indeed.  Could it be that we unwittingly see ourselves as being disabled in order to avoid exercise?  Why else would a perfectly healthy 27 year old man tell me that he can't run because of 'foot problems'?  The real problem is, he doesn't move them.  But it's far more comforting to think he is unable.  Which leads me to another question: is it more likely that in saying "I can't" we really mean "I won't"?  Or, "I don't want to"?  (That's two questions, actually.)  In this culture where there's a pill for everything, how much easier is it to think that we have a medical problem than to face the fact that WE are the problem?  

I won't jay walk, I have no desire, ever, to sky dive or go hang-gliding.   So it just naturally follows that in order to avoid having to go on medication or face crippling myself I WILL remain active and eat healthy food.

Having said this, I am now coming to the end of my three month membership at the gym.  I have loved being a member there but I've run out of money for the time being.  Higgie has promised me that he will work out with me in the mornings so we are going to try doing our own mini boot camp together with a friend of ours.  Every time I don't feel like going I will remember the 'can't =. won't' equation.  Here's hoping it works.

Breathing Space

Sometimes I just need a little air.  Sometimes I need a lot.  Lately I can't seem to breathe very well.  It's largely due to asthma and the pollen in the air from blooming trees.  Suffice to say, it was enough to ruin my first big run of the year.  'Harry's Spring Run-Off' in which I have participated every year since reaching my goal weight was held over Easter weekend and to say my performance was less than stellar is putting it mildly.  being unable to get a proper rhythm established with my breathing meant I was unable to run at all.  I managed a slow jog for the first 20 minutes and after that I was forced to run-walk (mostly walk) the rest of it.  It was agonising.  I was exhausted and just wanted to walk away.  Most discouraging.  My lungs ached for the rest of the day and I was coughing a lot.  I've been pumping both the asthma meds and antihistamines but nothing will help until the trees stop blooming.

I've been trying to get back to a more active life by walking more.  I walked on the boardwalk yesterday with my speed-walking friend but the midges were so bad there was danger of inhaling one every time I opened my mouth.  Every Spring, together with the blooming of the trees comes a vast hoard of small flies that congregate at the beach.  We used to encounter them at boot camp.  I breathed on in yesterday and coughed for several seconds.  My lungs were irritated the rest of the day.  Today I'm feeling husky and congested and I haven't even set foot outside yet.

And yet.... it's Spring and the days, while still cool, are lovely.  We took our puppy walking in a dog park in the Don Valley on Monday and it was if all the butterflies had hatched on the same day.  Our little doggy running through trees flushing hoards of Painted Lady butterflies was a charming sight.  Daffodils and Fritillaria are blooming in our front garden and will soon be followed by tulips.  And soon, very soon, I will be able to run again.   Don't know if the mood-elevating drugs have kicked in yet but life fells somewhat better and I'm hopeful.

The Trouble With Normal

Seems to me someone co-opted this title awhile back to make another really bad sit-com but I associate it with Bruce Cockburn's song, the lyrics of which resonate powerfully with me today: "The trouble with normal is, it always gets worse".  Spring came and went, or rather, we returned to seasonably cool temperatures.  I haven't run in a week - too cold - and I haven't been sleeping.  I thought my sleep meds were to blame for my daytime lethargy so I cut back on them, though I had never exceeded the recommended dose.  The result was sleeplessness.  In combination with the day-to-day stress of having no money, gaining weight and not being able to run I lost my marbles this weekend, if only temporarily. 

I hate people.  I hate people who have life so good they think it's bad.  I hate having to be the sympathetic ear to friends who can suck all the air out of a room with their sorrow and the need for pity.  I hate people who belittle the things I can do, or what I have.  I sell clothes.  No, I'm not reshaping national policy or rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous but I work for a home-grown company that sells quality goods to a marginalised sector of society - women over 40.  I make them feel good.  I hate people who think that's an insignificant thing to do.  As anyone can probably guess I've had a bad weekend.  I've been a good and supportive friend to those who are probably working a whole circuit of people like me to the same end - to keep the pity party going.  All they have to do is turn on the tears and the world is theirs.  There's no real concern for how to pay the next bill or where to live but somehow being a 50+ woman on their own is a trauma unimaginable.  Maybe I should try it and see.  Something tells me I have better survival skills and would get through it even if I'm finding my anger and depression hard enough to deal with now.

So what to do with the anger and depression?  I walk my dog.  I talk to people in the dog park and the customers at work.  I keep smiling.  I may get some anti-depressants from my doctor when I see her on Thursday.  I will stop feeling like there's something bitter and twisted in me.  Being angry and resentful is a normal range of emotions but it doesn't do to dwell there too long.  The best thing about anti-depressants is that once they kick in I won't give a shit about anything any more.  And I will run again.  Hopefully this week.

Miraculous Spring

It's almost a miracle that we have such an early Spring.  In this city we rarely get Spring at all.  March can still bring us snow and April drags on, rainy and cold and depressing until May which is usually pleasant but I've been to plenty of May weddings (and even some in June) where the weather can be cool and overcast and  I've seen plenty of shivering brides posing for pictures.  Not this year, however!  March began like a lion but it's not only going out like a lamb, it's like a flock of them!  Temperatures are in the low to mid-seventies these days, my garden is showing great signs of life and I've seen dozens of robins.  All of which means -and you can't fool me! -  it's Spring!

I'm continuing to train for my upcoming race and I'm still finding it very difficult to get back into running mode.  My legs feel like lead and my breath just doesn't flow.  I'm back to feeling like a smoker again, like I did at the beginning.  I'm sure if I went back to read my first boot camp journal I would see that I found running difficult at first but then I quickly adapted.  I think it was by about week eight that I found all the parts fitting together.  The problem is, I don't have eight weeks.  I've stepped up my running schedule to twice a week and have (I think) lengthened the running intervals though it's hard to tell without a stop watch and I do tire quickly.  By the last interval this morning I was feeling less weary but I also cut the full length of the run by 10 minutes.

While running I was finally beginning to feel some of the clarity of mind I remember running used to give me.  Once I stopped thinking about the discomfort in my body the thoughts flowed freely and I became one with the music I was listening to on my IPod.  I always try to keep it upbeat and inspirational.  This morning I heard the following:   "Don't give up/ You've got a reason to live/Can't forget you only get what you give".  It's from a one-hit wonder band called the New Radicals.  It speaks to me.  I have to give it more, with or without time.

Slow and Painful

The only way to describe what running feels like after a four month respite is to refer to the title of this post.
Let's take into account the strong headwind off the lake, the fact that I desperately need new shoes and that there were far too many people out on the boardwalk enjoying the early Spring weather.  When all that is taken into consideration it might show why I found 5K so incredibly difficult to run but I think the real reason lies with inactivity and a five pound weight gain.

I had a training session this morning with my new trainer which I was almost too tired to get all the way through.  He told me that my intervals of running to walking should have been equal, or even allowed for greater resting time between running intervals, so instead of running for two minutes and walking for one as I did, it should have been 2:2.  Live and learn.  All I know is, instead of being able to sprint the last half kilometer I nearly passed out.  This is going to be a long, slow road.

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.



It's Been Too Long

I can't believe I haven't posted here since the beginning of August.  Here it is, Labour Day Weekend.  Summer's over!  Arrrgh!!!!  Actually, the best part of summer is now, in my opinion.  September is a great time to travel because there's no one around and the kids are all back in school.  The days are still warm and the humidity is gone.  It's also a time for starting over.  Judaism marks September as the start of the new year.  I think they got it right.  It's always felt that way to me.  Maybe it had something with starting back to school.  In any case, I'm trying hard to be optimistic.  So many things have changed in the past month that I need to figure out a way to fit the pieces all together.

I shelved the idea of becoming a personal trainer, at least for now.  Going over the course material for the nutrition part of the course felt too much like trying to date an ex-boyfriend.  Been there, done that, don't love you anymore.  I don't believe I know enough about fitness to teach it to someone else.  I could be wrong but I'd rather just assume the cheerleader role.  I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up.

I've been working sporadically on my fitness but haven't given it as much dedication as I should.  Miraculously, despite a lack of consistency, I find when I do give it my all I get great results.  I ran stairs today and did them really well but I am averaging only two boot camp work-outs per week lately instead of three and not even getting any extra runs in on my own time.  My weight has stayed the same, however, so I guess I've learned a thing or two in the past five years of reaching this state of grace.

Meanwhile, there's my wonderful puppy who continues to astound me with her affection, loyalty, brains and obstinacy.  Life with Lily is a lesson in something new every day.  We learn from each other.  Dogs start over every day because everything is always new for them.  While I continue to reinvent myself I need to remember that we all need to move on.  Some of us need to move faster.

The Power to Change

I received my course material for the Wellness and Nutrition course I'm about to take and it has proved some fairly interesting reading so far.  One of the ideas put forth in the first couple of chapters is that most weight loss programs fail because they assume all participants are ready to change.  This, the book claims, is a fallacy.  People may think they're ready to change but they could initially participate out of a sense of fear, panic or obligation.  They don't really want to change, or at least, not yet.  This could well explain the drop out rate I observed at Weight Watchers, and the obstinacy with which some people faced following the program veiled under various disguises of 'no time', 'no money', etc.  It really just boils down to 'I don't want to'.

Mulling this all over in my head last night, I watched a wonderful documentary about one of my life-long favourite musicians, Pete Seeger, called "The Power of Song".  What the film brings home with perfect clarity is that Seeger influenced a generation by singing to children when he was banned from adult venues for his so-called Communist sympathies.  Every kid who every went to camp learned "Michael Row the Boat Ashore" and that was a generation that embraced folk music and the attendant peace movement.  Just as Woody Guthrie had "This Machine Kills Fascists" painted on his guitar, Seeger's banjo says "This Machine Surrounds Hate and Makes it Surrender".  How else could a simple folk song end a war and breakdown social barriers?  Because, as the song says "We Shall Overcome".

Which leads me to think about the music on my IPod.  I've often touted this device as being the greatest invention of the 21st century and I do believe it to be so.  Its' small size and ease in operation makes it the perfect companion for the music lover on the go.  But as a tool to break down barriers, motivate us to change?  Can it do all that?  Yes it can.  Being a lover of folk music means I like any songs that deal with social activism, so here's a sample of what's on my playlist: 

 "It's a New Day" by Will.I.Am. 

Written for Obama's campaign, it was performed at the Inaugural Ball by Will.I.Am and electrified me.  It has some very inspiring lyrics that tell us, among other things, to 'Stop and cherish this moment'.

"Lovers in a Dangerous Time" by Bruce Cockburn.  Another life-long fave of mine, Canada's Bruce Cockburn has also had a life of activism.  There is a line in this song which, despite its violent imagery, absolutely rivets me: Nothing worth having comes without some kind of fight/ you have to kick at the darkness til it bleeds daylight".  Shocking but powerful.  Sometimes change can be a struggle.

"Solsbury Hill" by Peter Gabriel.  There's a feeling of redemption and reward in the line 'Grab your things, I've come to take you home.  I try to keep this one cued up for crossing finishing lines or reaching (most appropriately) the top of a hill.

These are just a very few samples of the over nine hours of music my little IPod Shuffle can and does hold.  But this tiny device is very mighty.  If there was room I would write on it "This Machine Kills Lethargy and Banishes Doubt".  It also contains the power to change.

Running in the Rain

The difficulty with an all-season boot camp work out is that sometimes you will encounter inclement weather.  This morning it began raining almost as soon as we pulled into the parking lot at the beach.  We agreed however, that unless it began to thunder and lightning we would continue.  Fridays are hill running days so we proceeded to the steepest street in the beach to run the hill for 20 minutes.  I was wet and the road was slippery with oil slick but my shoes griped tight.  Pretty soon my wet clothing was chafing here and there and the humidity, rather than being dispersed by the rain, only became worse.  It felt like running through a wall of warm jelly.  I made it up the hill four times despite all the discomfort.  My record on a perfect day is six so I thought it was pretty god, all things considered.  Ironically, or perhaps appropriately, the song on my IPod as I made it up the hill for the last time was Chicago's "Feeling Stronger Every Day" from which the webtag for this blog was derived. 

It was one of the toughest days on which to work out; the humidity made my glasses fog and I couldn't see, there were mosquitoes galore back down at the beach where we returned to do our strength training, and the rain had made all surfaces slippery.  The pull-up bar almost slid out of my hands, and the bench was almost to wet to hold on to while doing dips but I managed two sets.  Kneeling in the wet sand to stretch out my quads and hamstrings left huge patches of sand clinging to me that took much brushing to get rid off.

In spite of everything it was one of the best work outs I've had in a while.  But I say that every day.  The only reason I can find for this is like the song says....'Stronger every day....'

A Bold Move

So, in the interest of staying true to the concept behind this blog, I have taken a major step.  I've been sitting around for weeks now asking myself "What's next?" 

If I give up working for a weight loss organisation does fitness and weight loss cease to be foremost in my life?  The answer to that was an obvious "Not on your life," so which direction to head in next was a gaping, yawning void. 

Well, not really.  My good friend Mo has, as mentioned, made the career choice of becoming a personal trainer.  She is very happy with it and working almost as hard as she wants to with very little effort getting started.  To that end, and at her urging, I signed up for Step One of the process by enrollng in a course for Wellness and Nutrition.  I mostly want to see if the nutritional priciples I have learned are, as I suspect, in keeping with generally accepted wisdom on the subject.  Once I have a certificate behind my name I can proceed in a number of directions, Personal Weight Loss Coach being one of them.  Next would come a course to become a Personal Trainer which would mean I could add fitness training into the mix.  How nice it would be to have a few clients I could work one on one with, rahter than the thundering hordes of the past who would not contemplate any sort of movement.  I hope this works out.  Stay posted.

Obsessions

Last night I watched an episode of one of my favourite TV shows, "No Reservations", hosted by author, foodie and one-time chef, Anthony Bourdain .  I've long been of fan of Bourdain's going back to when an excerpt of his book "Kitchen Confidential" appeared in New Yorker magazine several years ago.  It seemed like finally someone was telling it as I remembered it from working in dozens of restaurants over the years.  I was jealous I hadn't written it myself.

Over the years I have often wondered why I didn't turn my obsession with food into more of a career - beyond waitering, bartending and wine sales, that is.  Now there are bloggers and food writers galore.  How come I'm not one of them?  I fell like Marlon Brand on in "On the Waterfront": 'I coulda been a contender...'  But then I watched this episode.  On the liked episode you will see various people talking about their food obsessions.  Some of them are within normal parameters, whatever normal is, and perfectly understandable, like the guy who has taken pizza to a whole new level, of the chef that likes to catch the fish he serves.  But when Tony met with a couple of food bloggers that's when I began to be happy I didn't take my love of food in quite the direction they did.  All three of the guys he interviewed confessed that they had never been what you might call social successes so food had become their lover, their friend and replaced everything their lives didn't have.  They were all very obese and one gentleman said, perhaps with a hint of exaggeration, that he was told by a doctor there was more fat in his blood than red blood cells.  As for Tony, a renowned meatatarian, he too is on cholesterol meds, as he confessed at the end of the show.  He's 53 years old!  I was yelling at the TV; "Tony, eat some vegetables!"

So.  Do I want food to be an obsession like those guys and have to go on medication because there is so much fat and undigestable protein in my blood that I can't function?  Hay-yull no, as they say in the south.  I still live for real barbecued ribs and will never turn down a good steak medium rare, please, but watching shows where people act like gluttons (Check out 'Diners, Drive-ins & Dives') for an instant case of vicarious heatburn).  The days of seaching for the perfect eggs benedict (I once ate them every day while on a two week holiday) are over and I do not miss them one bit.

On the other hand, could it not be said that turning up for boot camp in 30C weather is also an obsession?  I had no transport this morning because Higgie was working so I ran down to the beach in what was already registering as 26C (80F) and joined two others in our agility training routine.  It was tough, but I did get a second wind partway through, and despite a few sand flies biting me I was able to do a full minute of plank pose and the rest of the strength training we normally do.  I didn't make it quite a far with bear crawl but my crab was slightly better.  I wouldn't have missed it for the world, truthfully.  I drank plenty of water and walked home up shady streets at a good pace.  Later today I'm going to take my mom out for lunch and might just have a pint and the pub's famous Stilton burger.  I'll leave half the bun and forgo the fries - and guess what?  I won't need medication afterwards - or ever!  Let's see: which do I prefer?  Thirty sit-ups in the sand at 7:00 a.m. or cholesterol meds?  Healthy obsessions?  Nothing wrong with 'em. 

Heat Wave Leaves No Options

We had a temporary respite from the heat and humidity and reached record-breaking highs yesterday with a temperature of 41C (105F).  Hoping for a break overnight, we awoke this morning to find no such thing and the temperature at 6:00 a.m. was hovering around 80F.  Heat isn't our only problem here; it's also about humidity.  Because the city is set in a natural basin we find ourselves with air the texture of wet cotton some days.

Nevertheless, we set out for boot camp as always for our Monday interval training session.  The first part involves a one mile run which was very difficult considering the heaviness of the air even beside the lake.  After a brief cool down we began running in two-minute intervals followed by two minutes of walking.  What I typically observe of myself is that I gradually get faster with each interval, and while this was also true today my speed was nowhere what it has been on other, more temperate days.  We finished off with strength training, and even here I was not my usual self; struggling with bench dips and praying for Bruce to say 'Stop' when doing push-ups.  Despite drinking lots of water, it really felt too warm to be working out.

Walking back to our cars I had a conversation with another boot camper who said she just couldn't stop eating.  I suggested she use boot camp as a metaphor -i.e.- she didn't want to stop eating last night and as a result she feels terrible.  She didn't want to get up this morning because it was too hot to work out but did anyway and now feels great.  Both were tough decisions to make.  Which one made her feel best?  She said it is hard to think rationally sometimes where food is involved and I agreed but I also believe it takes practice.  Everything gets better with practice.  Just like boot camp.

It looks like it's trying to rain and I must get Lily out for her walk.  The weather is going to remain hot all this week but maybe there will be a break in the humidity if we get some rain.  Not walking Lily is not an option, rain or no rain, heat or cold.  There is no other option for me than to continue to work out and practice healthy eating.