Where did my daily workout plan go? Based on the many excuses I keep telling myself, it's gone to H*LL, or as I like to say:
1. I am too busy at work. I have too many meetings. I have to get this done by 5pm today.
2. My knees hurt too much.
3. I am still sick with cold... sore throat... achy body... headache...etc etc etc
4. I need to clean my house... go grocery shopping... do laundry... (and if you know me, this is more a bullsh*t excuse than any of the others!)
5. I can only go for 30 minutes, so why bother.
And on and on and on and on....
I am TRYING. I think about working out all the time. I cut out recommended workouts from magazines and put them in a file I keep fully stocked with other workouts. I open my workout clothes drawer and see if anything still fits.
Inspiration is as close as opening my closet and trying on a pair of new jeans... that don't fit. Not because they are too big, but because they are TOO TIGHT.
My 10 pounds to lose grew to 15 pounds. As of this morning, I've lost 5. So now I'm back at my original goal of losing 10 pounds. I really think I am subconsciously fighting this goal. But have no idea why. And I don't have time to go to therapy to find out why. (see excuses above)
On the plus side, I do think I'm eating better (except for the candy that I seem to crave all the time)... lots of salads, veggies, fruit. Little or no wheat and dairy. And I am only drinking wine occasionally. Of course, on those few occasions, I seem to make up for the lost time or lost vino, as the case may be.
So, I'm going to tell you, my readers, that I am pledging to work out with weights 3 days a week, and some type of cardio the other 4 days for at least 30 minutes. I need to make it part of my everyday schedule. Instead of "fitting" it into my schedule, it will already be there... like taking a shower or putting on makeup or getting out of bed.
PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE let this public pledge work.
Stay strong.
No pain, no gain.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Monday, July 25, 2011
My Scale - My Enemy
I'm pretty sure men do not have the same relationship with the SCALE as women do. We base our view of ourselves on what the scale tells us each day. Before I started working out 8 years ago, I weighed myself at my parents house once a year (because, of course, my mom has a scale), at the doctors office once a year (subtracting 5 lbs for the weight of my clothes), but I don't remember even having a scale at my house. I just didn't care. Of course, I also liked my weight back then.
Then I started working out and the scale became my daily acknowledgement of my success... or lack of success. Sort of like my relationship with cable TV... I didn't have cable TV until a few years ago and was PERFECTLY happy without it (although my son was not) but once I had it, I couldn't stop watching TV (USA network, HGTV, Cooking Channel). It's the same thing with the scale... I can't stop stepping on it.
The problem with the scale is I will never be happy with what it tells me. If my weight is lower, I'm not happy, because I'm wondering when my weight will go up again. Not "if" it will go up. But "when" it will go up again. As you know, I'm just getting back into working out, and had a pretty good stretch of workouts, both weight lifting and cardio. I. Was. Proud. Of. Myself. I felt like I was getting back into my fitness groove. Maybe I could be the victor in my battle with Ricardo the Vino Chub.
Then I got sick. Stay at home, miserable, achy body, congested, headache, sore throat sick for a week.
And I thought to myself... two good weeks of working out, one week of being sick, I'm sure I lost some weight.
NOT.
I want to blow up that f*cking stupid scale. And if you can relate to this, then you will also relate to the next thing I did. Stepped off the scale, reset it, and stepped back on. D*MN. F*CK. SH*T.
The scale makes me miserable every single day. Sometimes it teases me and gives me a lower number. And I feel good about myself for, oh, about a second. And when I step back on it the next day, and the number is higher than the day before, I want to cry and scream.
I think I'm a smart woman. I am a bit krazy, but overall, smart. So why can't I see what this scale has become? My enemy.
- It doesn't make me feel good about myself.
- It doesn't make me eat better.
- It doesn't make me drink less.
- It doesn't make me work out more.
This is war.
First step to gain control: I'm averting eye contact with the scale. If we don't make eye contact, then it can't lure me to stand on it... and BAM, tell me how much I weigh.
I'll let you know how it goes.
No pain, no gain.
Stay strong.
Then I started working out and the scale became my daily acknowledgement of my success... or lack of success. Sort of like my relationship with cable TV... I didn't have cable TV until a few years ago and was PERFECTLY happy without it (although my son was not) but once I had it, I couldn't stop watching TV (USA network, HGTV, Cooking Channel). It's the same thing with the scale... I can't stop stepping on it.
The problem with the scale is I will never be happy with what it tells me. If my weight is lower, I'm not happy, because I'm wondering when my weight will go up again. Not "if" it will go up. But "when" it will go up again. As you know, I'm just getting back into working out, and had a pretty good stretch of workouts, both weight lifting and cardio. I. Was. Proud. Of. Myself. I felt like I was getting back into my fitness groove. Maybe I could be the victor in my battle with Ricardo the Vino Chub.
Then I got sick. Stay at home, miserable, achy body, congested, headache, sore throat sick for a week.
And I thought to myself... two good weeks of working out, one week of being sick, I'm sure I lost some weight.
NOT.
I want to blow up that f*cking stupid scale. And if you can relate to this, then you will also relate to the next thing I did. Stepped off the scale, reset it, and stepped back on. D*MN. F*CK. SH*T.
The scale makes me miserable every single day. Sometimes it teases me and gives me a lower number. And I feel good about myself for, oh, about a second. And when I step back on it the next day, and the number is higher than the day before, I want to cry and scream.
I think I'm a smart woman. I am a bit krazy, but overall, smart. So why can't I see what this scale has become? My enemy.
- It doesn't make me feel good about myself.
- It doesn't make me eat better.
- It doesn't make me drink less.
- It doesn't make me work out more.
This is war.
First step to gain control: I'm averting eye contact with the scale. If we don't make eye contact, then it can't lure me to stand on it... and BAM, tell me how much I weigh.
I'll let you know how it goes.
No pain, no gain.
Stay strong.
Monday, June 20, 2011
The Art of Sweating
I used to have night sweats, to the point where I would have to change my sheets in the middle of the night. My doctor said there was absolutely nothing wrong with me. So why was I so miserable at night?... because I have to say, night sweats really suck. Then my hairdresser at the time asked me what thread count sheets do I have. And there, my friends, is the answer to the night sweats. I had 800 thread count sheets, which are so soft and FABulous, but they are so tightly woven, they keep the heat trapped. WHO KNEW!? Some minor changes to my bedding, and my night sweats were pleasantly (and mostly) eliminated.
Have you vacationed anywhere that is extremely humid? Where you step outside and your sunglasses fog up and you instantly have a layer of sweat on your skin? Miserable. All the locals know you are a tourist because you have that sheen of sweat (not a dewy glow) that marks you as TOURIST. Miami. Rome. Houston. All cities where the sweat factor, when I was visiting, was on the high side. I had fun in all those cities, but being sticky 24/7 was sort of icky.
About 4 months ago, my friend L said "I'm having hot flashes". And within days, I too was having hot flashes, the sudden onslaught of sweats. Where I had always been cold and wore layers of clothes to keep me warm, now I was stripping off those layers of clothes just to cool my body down. And of course, within minutes I was freezing, so the layer of clothes would go back on... and the cycle would continue. The suddenness of these day sweats, no matter what temperature it is, come as a surprise to me. How I go from freezing one minute to completely hot and sweaty the next. I finally had to buy a small fan that sits on my desk at work because I could not take the shedding of the clothes around my work mates (primarily men in my area) about 10 times a day. Now I turn on the fan and leave all my clothes on.
Then there is the sweat of a hard workout. Wiping my face with a towel, the raised temperature of my body. There is nothing like this layer of sweat. I wear it with pride. It shows that my body is working, has endurance, and can change my health for a longer, stronger life. It's funny that in all other cases, sweating is an uncomfortable nuisance. But when I work out, I welcome that layer of sweat with open arms, my badge of honor.
Stay strong. No pain no gain.
Have you vacationed anywhere that is extremely humid? Where you step outside and your sunglasses fog up and you instantly have a layer of sweat on your skin? Miserable. All the locals know you are a tourist because you have that sheen of sweat (not a dewy glow) that marks you as TOURIST. Miami. Rome. Houston. All cities where the sweat factor, when I was visiting, was on the high side. I had fun in all those cities, but being sticky 24/7 was sort of icky.
About 4 months ago, my friend L said "I'm having hot flashes". And within days, I too was having hot flashes, the sudden onslaught of sweats. Where I had always been cold and wore layers of clothes to keep me warm, now I was stripping off those layers of clothes just to cool my body down. And of course, within minutes I was freezing, so the layer of clothes would go back on... and the cycle would continue. The suddenness of these day sweats, no matter what temperature it is, come as a surprise to me. How I go from freezing one minute to completely hot and sweaty the next. I finally had to buy a small fan that sits on my desk at work because I could not take the shedding of the clothes around my work mates (primarily men in my area) about 10 times a day. Now I turn on the fan and leave all my clothes on.
Then there is the sweat of a hard workout. Wiping my face with a towel, the raised temperature of my body. There is nothing like this layer of sweat. I wear it with pride. It shows that my body is working, has endurance, and can change my health for a longer, stronger life. It's funny that in all other cases, sweating is an uncomfortable nuisance. But when I work out, I welcome that layer of sweat with open arms, my badge of honor.
Stay strong. No pain no gain.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
One Hour
I am going to talk about last week's successes, since today I ate like a pig and didn't do any physical exercise. I did wear high heels (or as my friend Jenn says, "wedges") and that is always a workout for me. With my level of coordination, it is a victory not to fall on my *ss anytime I wear anything over an inch high.
I am proud to say that I did two workouts with BG last week and made it to the gym three times to do cardio. THREE TIMES. That doesn't sound like much, but since it was THREE times more than I have done in the past year, I would say that is definitely progress.
I have this belief that if I go to the gym and do just cardio, I have to do at least one hour of cardio. No less. If I am also strength training, then I can do less cardio, but I still need to be at the gym for at least ONE hour. I am not sure what the ONE HOUR is all about, but if I am there less than that, I feel like a fitness fraud. And I can't have that now, can I? After one year of sitting around on my couch, eating bon-bons, I wouldn't want to be considered a fitness fraud.
But I am proud of the cardio. And it felt GOOD. Well, while I was doing it, it didn't feel so good. I felt like I was dying. But afterwards, afterwards it felt great. I forgot how it felt to sweat like that, to push myself.
And although I didn't lose any weight, in fact, I gained a f*cking pound (I'm telling you, I need to wire my mouth shut), I do have plans to do cardio again this week.
Stay strong. No pain, no gain.
I am proud to say that I did two workouts with BG last week and made it to the gym three times to do cardio. THREE TIMES. That doesn't sound like much, but since it was THREE times more than I have done in the past year, I would say that is definitely progress.
I have this belief that if I go to the gym and do just cardio, I have to do at least one hour of cardio. No less. If I am also strength training, then I can do less cardio, but I still need to be at the gym for at least ONE hour. I am not sure what the ONE HOUR is all about, but if I am there less than that, I feel like a fitness fraud. And I can't have that now, can I? After one year of sitting around on my couch, eating bon-bons, I wouldn't want to be considered a fitness fraud.
But I am proud of the cardio. And it felt GOOD. Well, while I was doing it, it didn't feel so good. I felt like I was dying. But afterwards, afterwards it felt great. I forgot how it felt to sweat like that, to push myself.
And although I didn't lose any weight, in fact, I gained a f*cking pound (I'm telling you, I need to wire my mouth shut), I do have plans to do cardio again this week.
Stay strong. No pain, no gain.
Monday, June 13, 2011
And She Does It
Yesterday I had lunch with my friend E. I met her years ago at the gym, she is a fitness trainer so I took both spinning and pilates classes from her. That was back in my 2 hours a day at the gym, so I was in the best shape of my life at that point. We became friends and started getting together once a month or so. And you guessed it, I don't take classes from her anymore.
E always asks about my workouts, but she doesn't know the extent of my lack of energy or desire to go to the gym. When she asked me "how many days do you do cardio?" and I responded, honestly this time, "ZERO". E was shocked. I could hear the shock in her voice and the look on her face (even behind sunglasses, I could see that look I've seen on others faces, the "what HAPPENED TO you" look.)
Even with all of BG's pep talks, nutrition guidance, and life chats, it was the shock of E that really made me say "WTF am I doing". I mean what DID happen to me? How could I go from top of my fitness game to couch potato in such a short time? Men? Travel? Work? All these things add up to being part of the reason, but really, not the full reason. My slump is pretty much self induced, my excuses merely bullshit.
It's time to get it back. I have four months until Cabo. Can I get into a bikini again? That is the true test. No matter what anyone says, its the bikini that tells you if you made it or not.
So today I went to the gym and did an hour of cardio. Fortunately my son is home for the summer and we are going to the gym together. What? Do you think I would just do this on my own!? hahaha. Of course this cost me, since he wasn't a member, but I think in the long run, it will be to my benefit to pay for his gym membership over the summer. Over the next few months, going to the gym will become part of my routine again. And I will make my twice a week training appointments with BG. He will kick my ass.
Now I just need to pray that my body holds up.
Stay strong. No pain no gain.
E always asks about my workouts, but she doesn't know the extent of my lack of energy or desire to go to the gym. When she asked me "how many days do you do cardio?" and I responded, honestly this time, "ZERO". E was shocked. I could hear the shock in her voice and the look on her face (even behind sunglasses, I could see that look I've seen on others faces, the "what HAPPENED TO you" look.)
Even with all of BG's pep talks, nutrition guidance, and life chats, it was the shock of E that really made me say "WTF am I doing". I mean what DID happen to me? How could I go from top of my fitness game to couch potato in such a short time? Men? Travel? Work? All these things add up to being part of the reason, but really, not the full reason. My slump is pretty much self induced, my excuses merely bullshit.
It's time to get it back. I have four months until Cabo. Can I get into a bikini again? That is the true test. No matter what anyone says, its the bikini that tells you if you made it or not.
So today I went to the gym and did an hour of cardio. Fortunately my son is home for the summer and we are going to the gym together. What? Do you think I would just do this on my own!? hahaha. Of course this cost me, since he wasn't a member, but I think in the long run, it will be to my benefit to pay for his gym membership over the summer. Over the next few months, going to the gym will become part of my routine again. And I will make my twice a week training appointments with BG. He will kick my ass.
Now I just need to pray that my body holds up.
Stay strong. No pain no gain.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Looking in the Mirror
This week has not been the best "fitness" week. After the Eight Pounds blog, I weighed myself the next day and realized I really need to lose 10#. A bit depressing. My morning ritual goes a bit like this: I drag myself out of bed and into the bathroom; I look at myself in the mirror and say "oh, it looks like I'm thinner today"; I pull out the scale and weigh myself; I open my eyes wide and say "oh shit, I gained weight... AGAIN!"; I jump in the shower, more depressed than the day before.
But then to make myself feel better, I squeeze into a pair of jeans and say "but for my age, I look pretty darn good." And find a shirt that will cover up Ricardo the Vino Chub, without highlighting his presence too much.
Let's face it, I know what I need to do. I just don't want to do it. Trying to figure out why I'm struggling with something that I want to be part of my everyday life is an ongoing mental analysis. I always have that "Tomorrow" thought in the back of my mind.
Today was a workout day - I'm going to call it full body, since we did a little leg work, back and chest. So now, instead of just one body part hurting tomorrow, it will be all three. BG, as usual, laughed at me when I did side shuffles. After 8 years he still thinks that one day I will be coordinated when I do these (and many other exercises). Let's face it, coordination is not something in my genes. Side shuffling is a distant cousin to running, and anyone who knows me and has seen me run knows there is no hope for me in this area.
The rest of this week has been focused on house projects, which do require a fair amount of physical labor. So although I didn't make it to the gym, I did lift, squat, sweat, and CURSE every day this week. And there is an amount of personal reward in seeing the end results. So far, it hasn't resulted in my smaller jeans fitting me again, but it has resulted in me thinking if I had company, I wouldn't be embarrassed.
Stay strong. No pain no gain.
But then to make myself feel better, I squeeze into a pair of jeans and say "but for my age, I look pretty darn good." And find a shirt that will cover up Ricardo the Vino Chub, without highlighting his presence too much.
Let's face it, I know what I need to do. I just don't want to do it. Trying to figure out why I'm struggling with something that I want to be part of my everyday life is an ongoing mental analysis. I always have that "Tomorrow" thought in the back of my mind.
Today was a workout day - I'm going to call it full body, since we did a little leg work, back and chest. So now, instead of just one body part hurting tomorrow, it will be all three. BG, as usual, laughed at me when I did side shuffles. After 8 years he still thinks that one day I will be coordinated when I do these (and many other exercises). Let's face it, coordination is not something in my genes. Side shuffling is a distant cousin to running, and anyone who knows me and has seen me run knows there is no hope for me in this area.
The rest of this week has been focused on house projects, which do require a fair amount of physical labor. So although I didn't make it to the gym, I did lift, squat, sweat, and CURSE every day this week. And there is an amount of personal reward in seeing the end results. So far, it hasn't resulted in my smaller jeans fitting me again, but it has resulted in me thinking if I had company, I wouldn't be embarrassed.
Stay strong. No pain no gain.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Eight Pounds
If I wire my mouth shut, I might be able to lose those 8 pounds I want to get rid of... or more. The problem with wiring my mouth shut is that I would only be able to get my nourishment through a straw, which means I would probably drink more wine than normal. And Ricardo the Vino Chub would win the battle of the bulge. Yes, that layer of fat that sits around my middle does have a name. Ricardo is the ever present stalker in my life.
Ricardo took up permanent residence about 5 years ago... the year before my sabbatical when I prepared myself for all of that wine drinking in Italy by drinking large amounts of wine at home. Even though I was working out almost every day with weights or cardio, Ricardo decided he liked it here, and has been around ever since.
BG has assured me that if I did an hour of cardio a day, Ricardo would pack up and leave. I used to do two hours of cardio a day so why can't I make it to the gym? Why do I make up so many stupid excuses, including:
- an hour is really more like two hours once you add in picking out the outfit, getting ready, going to the gym, getting set up, etc
- I just have to watch HGTV
- I am SO tired
- I am SO hungover
- I will do it tomorrow
And yet... I don't go.
I did make progress today though... I actually looked at the group fitness class schedule online.
I took a 30 minute walk at lunch.
This past weekend I did some bicep curls...based on the amount of alcohol I drank both Saturday and Sunday, there was a hell of a lot of bicep curls completed!
I even bought some fruit. Well, really, I only bought the fruit because I needed something to put in the bowl I made at pottery class. So the bowl is helping me with my fitness goals.
PROGRESS people, PROGRESS.
Stay strong. No pain no gain.
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