Janice Zander, co-owner of Work It Out Women's Fitness, my beloved gym of choice here in Maple Valley, apparently found some things on this blog that set her off after googling her own name (always a dangerous practice, I've found, as it inevitably leads to finding out that someone has hijacked your work or that someone hates you or both).
She claims I said she was mean and never modifies her workouts for those of us who are, shall we say, slower and more cumbersome due to some additional avoirdupois around our midsections.
While I don't recall saying she was mean, ever, I do recall discussing her lack of breaks for water and breathing during workouts and the fact that she pushes people in her classes to work to their physical limit. And though she has allowed me to modify aspects of her workout (mainly because I could not physically do certain things, like a backwards crab walk up a steep incline, or a wheelbarrow across a room...come on now, how do you expect me to heft that much body weight up that way?) she is not inclined to make things easier for participants in her class. But that is because Janice has very high standards, and she's not one for coddling those she's training. She figures if she can do it, so can you. Though I outweigh the woman by 120 pounds, I believe she feels that I should be able to accomplish most, if not all, the exercises she sets forth. So I try, and even when I fail, I never feel bad about it because Janice doesn't give up on me, and encourages me to try again until I can do it right.
It is because of that "never give up" attitude and will to succeed that Janice has won two trophies in only her first year of figure and fitness competitions, and that attitude has also helped me to survive her tough boot camp this past summer, and lose 43 pounds over the last two years. Carol Kayler's help and advice for my first boot camp was also invaluable. These two women, Carol and Janice, have literally changed my life. They've helped me see that fitness isn't just something you do for a short time, it is a habit for life. They've helped me uncover my comfort-food stressed out mama eating habits, they've pointed to my portion problems and they've believed in me and my health and fitness journey when I didn't believe in myself.
Let me be clear here: I LOVE these two women from their toenails to their hair folicles. I would swim the English Channel in a thong for them, though I am sure I'd scare away all the fish. Carol Kayler is an amazing, lovely human being and a strong, smart mother to her children, and I aspire to be more like her with my own child all the time. Janice is also an amazing human being, and she's raised three handsome and wonderful sons who are a credit to their gender, which is saying something considering the bad press that teenage boys get these days. She's not only given me valuable insight into raising a boy, she's also helped me to understand my own husband and how he thinks and deals with life. And I've watched Janice get on a stage with little or nothing on, smile and flex her muscles and deal with photographers and a crowd of people without flinching or showing her natural reticence and reluctance for posing and displaying her body. Though there is a shyness to Janice, she hasn't allowed it to stop or even slow her rise to fame and fortune in the bodybuilding/fitness competition arena.
In creating an article about Janice's journey for American Fitness, I was amazed at all the hard work and diligence that went into a few minutes of flexing and smiling on a stage for judges. Then, as is her modus operandi, Janice took it to the next level and started working a fitness routine requiring moves like a one-handed push up and leaps into the air, splits and dance steps that left onlookers at the gym breathless at her strength and agility. Janice is all of 5 feet tall and weighs maybe 110 pounds, 99 percent of it muscle. Still, most people would never guess that she's stronger than most men, and can put them through an obstacle course that will have them gasping and weeping like babies by the time they're through. I am astonished that I was able to make it through her boot camp this summer without having to have CPR performed on my pudgy body. There were several times there when I was certain I was going to puke, pass out or pop an artery. It is to Janice's credit that I didn't. And though I was always the last person to finish any given run, exercise or obstacle course, she never made fun of me, laughed or let me give up. She always encouraged me to keep at it, and though I was always trying to find an easier way to do things, she didn't get hacked off, she just made me keep at it until I made it through.
So again, let me be clear: I in no way intended to disparage Janice Zander. She's an amazing personal trainer, boot camp/ class instructor, drill sergeant, wife and mom and all around incredible person. I am honored to know her, and though I am a big lump of whiney wimp a lot of the time, she has yet to shun me or give up on my progress. How can you not love that about a person? Please allow me to apologise profusely, and knock my forehead against the floor in abasement. Forgive me?
Janice's classes are tough, and anyone would tell you so, but challenging yourself is important when you are trying to be physically fit, or at least healthier. I am always wiped out when I finish one of her classes, but I also feel a sense of accomplishment and pride that I didn't pass out, puke or die during class. Janice has given me faith in my ability to overcome my belly and Crohns and Asthma to become a healthier person.
Meanwhile, on the list of other things I'd rather not admit, my husband has been watching me have more Crohns attacks per day this month and has noticed that I've been sick since the end of May with Crohns flares, which are no fun at all, though I have caught up on some of my reading (what else is there to do in the bathroom for hours when you're in pain?).
However, I didn't want to admit that this whole roller coaster began when I stopped taking Nortryptaline at night,on the advice of my cardiologist who said it might be the cause of my irregular heartbeat and palpitations that woke me at night. In the past 4 months, my heart palpitations have all but disappeared, but I was getting up every morning with a flare and going to bed every night with one, and taking lots of percoset to stop the pain. So on Jims suggestion I took two Nortryptaline last Wednesday night, just to see if it would help. I'd already increased my dosage of my other Crohns medications to their full limit, and I'd added Levsin and Lomotil to the roster of pills, but they weren't helping me at all.
Thursday was the first day in a long time that I didn't have a flare. So I took only one Nortryptaline, which was the dosage I'd stayed with previously, Thursday night, and Friday came and went without a flare. I've been having at least one episode of pounding palpitations every night, though, and I am finding it hard to fall asleep, as the Nortryptaline makes me nervous, but I've been without a flare since last week, and I am loving it.
I'm uncertain whether it is worth it to just have the irregular heartbeat and horrible sugar cravings and weight gain that come with this particular pill, or whether I should just bear up under the pain of a continual Crohns flare. I hate pain, but I've worked so hard to lose weight, I hate to start gaining it again, too. It is hard to admit that hubby was right about the Nortryptaline, though, but in the long run, he just wants what is best for me, I suppose. Now it is up to me to find a new gastroenterologist or to just deal with my heart racing and some insomnia.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Pills, Ills and Thrills
"in spite of illness, in spite even of the arch-enemy sorrow, one can remain alive long past the usual date of disintegration if one is unafraid of change, insatiable in intellectual curiosity, interested in big things and happy in small ones" Edith Wharton.
"I've come to understand that I am as unfinished as the shoreline along the beach. If you stand on the sand and watch wave after wave, each leaves the beach looking just a little different. So it is with people---we are all unfinished and meant to transcend ourselves again and again throughout a lifetime." Joan Anderson
I totally agree with the above wise statements.
I discovered last week that I've lost three pounds in the last two months, which is a somewhat phyrric victory, as I've also been sick with Crohns flares nearly every day for the past three months. I've had to take naprosin and percoset to keep the pain at bay, and that always depresses me. But I've kept to my exercise regimen of working out 5-6 times a week and trying not to eat too much sugar, as well as consuming carbs in moderation. I've failed at that several times, mainly because I love sugar and bread, and, as my diet is so limited with the excising of dairy, eggs, nuts, mushrooms, onions and strawberries, I always feel that I need to have something to eat that has sweetness or some kind of flavor that I enjoy. Hubby brought home a loaf of fresh country bread from Great Harvest Bakery and I consumed half the loaf with Smart Balance Lite margerine and all fruit jam lickety split, within an hour. I was groaning as my gut expanded all that bread during balls and weights class, though....Janice and Carol had the last laugh as I nearly barfed on the gym floor.
Since my husbands contract ended Friday, our insurance is due to run out tomorrow, and I called the doctors office asking them to call in my Crohns meds ASAP so that I could still get a supply while the insurance was intact. Bartell Pharmacy refused to fill the prescription before my insurance runs out, though, and as my gastro doc is out of town for three weeks, the doctor on call said he doesn't feel that he can change the prescription so that I can get my meds for the insurance-covered price, which is affordable. Pentasa has no generic, and my other Crohns med is still expensive without insurance. Yet my husband kept hissing at me that the pharmacists had no right to know that we were without insurance in a few days. I contend that they'd find out anyway, when they contacted the company and were refused payment on my prescription. So I am screwed when my pills run out, as I can't afford to buy them without insurance. Of course, my son chose that moment to say he felt ill, and was certain he had a cold. I'm equally certain he is just riddled with allergy because he's been cuddling and caring for a scrofulous old cat with one eye that has lived in this neighborhood for years and is skinny enough to garner sympathy from an eight year old boy. Because Nick gave this old cat tuna and hot dogs and milk and whatever else he could procure from our pantry, the cat now thinks he belongs in our house. Eww. And Nick is all stuffed up, wheezing and sneezing with eyes all red and itchy because he can't seem to keep his hands off the ugliest cat in Christendom. So I had to deal with my husbands outrage at the pharmacy and my sons whining and sniffling while simultaneously trying to convince the pharmacist that I need my medications now. It was not pleasant.
However, I did find a tea set at a garage sale, and I plan on going to visit my good friend Janine this weekend, so there is light on the horizon, and the day isn't a total waste yet.
I am hoping to get a nice walk in on Monday, which is labor day, and I will have to walk to Nicks school on Tuesday just to schlep all his extra supplies to his classroom.
Here's to hoping for some bona fortuna coming up in September, when my stepfather turns 90!
"I've come to understand that I am as unfinished as the shoreline along the beach. If you stand on the sand and watch wave after wave, each leaves the beach looking just a little different. So it is with people---we are all unfinished and meant to transcend ourselves again and again throughout a lifetime." Joan Anderson
I totally agree with the above wise statements.
I discovered last week that I've lost three pounds in the last two months, which is a somewhat phyrric victory, as I've also been sick with Crohns flares nearly every day for the past three months. I've had to take naprosin and percoset to keep the pain at bay, and that always depresses me. But I've kept to my exercise regimen of working out 5-6 times a week and trying not to eat too much sugar, as well as consuming carbs in moderation. I've failed at that several times, mainly because I love sugar and bread, and, as my diet is so limited with the excising of dairy, eggs, nuts, mushrooms, onions and strawberries, I always feel that I need to have something to eat that has sweetness or some kind of flavor that I enjoy. Hubby brought home a loaf of fresh country bread from Great Harvest Bakery and I consumed half the loaf with Smart Balance Lite margerine and all fruit jam lickety split, within an hour. I was groaning as my gut expanded all that bread during balls and weights class, though....Janice and Carol had the last laugh as I nearly barfed on the gym floor.
Since my husbands contract ended Friday, our insurance is due to run out tomorrow, and I called the doctors office asking them to call in my Crohns meds ASAP so that I could still get a supply while the insurance was intact. Bartell Pharmacy refused to fill the prescription before my insurance runs out, though, and as my gastro doc is out of town for three weeks, the doctor on call said he doesn't feel that he can change the prescription so that I can get my meds for the insurance-covered price, which is affordable. Pentasa has no generic, and my other Crohns med is still expensive without insurance. Yet my husband kept hissing at me that the pharmacists had no right to know that we were without insurance in a few days. I contend that they'd find out anyway, when they contacted the company and were refused payment on my prescription. So I am screwed when my pills run out, as I can't afford to buy them without insurance. Of course, my son chose that moment to say he felt ill, and was certain he had a cold. I'm equally certain he is just riddled with allergy because he's been cuddling and caring for a scrofulous old cat with one eye that has lived in this neighborhood for years and is skinny enough to garner sympathy from an eight year old boy. Because Nick gave this old cat tuna and hot dogs and milk and whatever else he could procure from our pantry, the cat now thinks he belongs in our house. Eww. And Nick is all stuffed up, wheezing and sneezing with eyes all red and itchy because he can't seem to keep his hands off the ugliest cat in Christendom. So I had to deal with my husbands outrage at the pharmacy and my sons whining and sniffling while simultaneously trying to convince the pharmacist that I need my medications now. It was not pleasant.
However, I did find a tea set at a garage sale, and I plan on going to visit my good friend Janine this weekend, so there is light on the horizon, and the day isn't a total waste yet.
I am hoping to get a nice walk in on Monday, which is labor day, and I will have to walk to Nicks school on Tuesday just to schlep all his extra supplies to his classroom.
Here's to hoping for some bona fortuna coming up in September, when my stepfather turns 90!
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Crohn's Groans
As I sit in pain on the toilet for hours everyday with Crohn's flares, I've had time to contemplate a number of things about life, the universe and my gut.
I find myself wondering if, for example, the spasms that wrack my intestines would hurt as badly if I had a flat stomach, rippling with a 4-pack (*a six pack is too much to hope for at my age).I've noticed that if I hold in my gut muscles, it sometimes helps subdue the waves of pain that I have during a flare.
How do people whose diets consist mainly of rice and beans, those gas producing legumes, manage their Crohns? Do they just break wind a lot after bloating up, or does their body become accustomed to it and not react that way?
Why would anyone want to become a colo-rectal surgeon? Why would anyone dig being a gastroenterologist,for that matter? Yuck. All you deal with all day is butts and guts. How does one acquire granulomas in your gut lining, and why won't they heal up or go away? Why can't surgeons just cut the fat off ones liver, ones belly, ones breasts? Does it actually serve any purpose other than storage of hormones and vitamins?
I often take the time to revise song lyrics to fit the situation while I'm in the restroom. I sing "Pain of Fools" instead of Chain of Fools, Take a piece of my gut, instead of take a piece of my heart, etc. I also hum songs that I find inspirational, like Natasha Bedingfields "Unwritten" and Celine Dions "Because You Loved Me" because they give me hope that the pain will be short lived. I practice breathing in through the nose and out through the mouth in big breaths, and I concentrate on 'surfing' the wave of pain, letting it flow through me. I read books or magazines that are beautiful, and I sometimes light a candle as a form of prayer, to let God know that I am not going to let the suffering conquer me. I use a heating pad on the left side of my belly, where it hurts the most, and often that soothes me to sleep after I've taken all the anti-spasmotics and pain pills that I can safely consume.
Crohns stinks, both literally and figuratively, but when I have a day or even a week without pain, and I make it through an exercise class when I didn't feel well, I know I've triumphed over a disease that has crashed many a colon.
I find myself wondering if, for example, the spasms that wrack my intestines would hurt as badly if I had a flat stomach, rippling with a 4-pack (*a six pack is too much to hope for at my age).I've noticed that if I hold in my gut muscles, it sometimes helps subdue the waves of pain that I have during a flare.
How do people whose diets consist mainly of rice and beans, those gas producing legumes, manage their Crohns? Do they just break wind a lot after bloating up, or does their body become accustomed to it and not react that way?
Why would anyone want to become a colo-rectal surgeon? Why would anyone dig being a gastroenterologist,for that matter? Yuck. All you deal with all day is butts and guts. How does one acquire granulomas in your gut lining, and why won't they heal up or go away? Why can't surgeons just cut the fat off ones liver, ones belly, ones breasts? Does it actually serve any purpose other than storage of hormones and vitamins?
I often take the time to revise song lyrics to fit the situation while I'm in the restroom. I sing "Pain of Fools" instead of Chain of Fools, Take a piece of my gut, instead of take a piece of my heart, etc. I also hum songs that I find inspirational, like Natasha Bedingfields "Unwritten" and Celine Dions "Because You Loved Me" because they give me hope that the pain will be short lived. I practice breathing in through the nose and out through the mouth in big breaths, and I concentrate on 'surfing' the wave of pain, letting it flow through me. I read books or magazines that are beautiful, and I sometimes light a candle as a form of prayer, to let God know that I am not going to let the suffering conquer me. I use a heating pad on the left side of my belly, where it hurts the most, and often that soothes me to sleep after I've taken all the anti-spasmotics and pain pills that I can safely consume.
Crohns stinks, both literally and figuratively, but when I have a day or even a week without pain, and I make it through an exercise class when I didn't feel well, I know I've triumphed over a disease that has crashed many a colon.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
The Wheels on the Bike Go Round and Round
So spin is beginning to suck, mainly because there is so much of it. There's no other classes in the evening, besides Pilates and Balls and Weights on Wednesdays (and the occaisional yoga class, but I just do NOT do yoga...can't twist this Winne the Pooh body into those positions, sorry), so if I want to get any exercise in, I just have to hop on a bike and feel the pain of my aching ass and my cramping colon as I spin round and round on that ugly yellow stationary bike for the millionth time. Angela and Laura are the only teachers we have left, as Danielle seems to have flown the coop, and Billie is on vacation until the end of August.
Despite her sweet Cindy Lou Who/Kelly Clarkson face, Angela is a very tough instructor who can totally kick your butt (and abs, and glutes and thighs) in 55 minutes. Having faced down cancer 4 times in her young life (she's only 31), she's fearless, and refuses to give quarter to old bloated ninnies like me who have weak knees, fat bellies and horrible hemeroids.
Add to this the stress of having a three month long Crohns flare, an early end to my husbands contract at Microsoft, a bored 8-year-old who only wants to eat junk food all day and play with his buddies (who are all wiling away the days in expensive sports camps), hubbys emergency root canal and subsequent consuming of mass quantities of percoset and beer, two editors throwing an assignment back in my face because "no one in our demographic reads anymore" and binging on three dozen homemade lemon vegan cookies, and you have my disastrous life this past week. My husband is a nervous, whining wreak, my son is pudgy and bored, and I am gripping onto the ledge of my sanity for all I am worth, with faith in God and hope for the future of the people I love. Oh, and the brakes are going out on the car, which has a cracked windshield and a broken drivers side window. We don't have the money to have the brakes fixed, so I can only assume we're going to end up in some terrible auto accident that will hopefully not be fatal one of these days.
Other than that, things are fine, and you?
One of the few bright spots this week was a freelance friend of mine, Dana, who hasn't seen me in a year was amazed at how much weight I've lost, and told me "You look great!"
So my 5-6 times a week workout has had some results. I am still 60 pounds too heavy, but I am much firmer than I was a year and a half ago. I also feel like the gals at the WIO gym are so supportive and caring that I've got friends who will listen and understand my dilemas no matter how ridiculous or awful they are. And I can look forward to the fall, when my son will be back in school for 5 hours a day, so I can take walks, plus there will be a new, beefier schedule at the gym, and more classes to choose from. Instructors will return from vacation and there will be new instructors, which is a blessing, as no two teachers teach alike, which is good for our muscles.
This whole year has been a beast, but as we fall into the final third of the annus horribilus, let us hope that something has been learned, ties deepened and that Gods plan, unknowable to us, has been unfolding, as it should.
Despite her sweet Cindy Lou Who/Kelly Clarkson face, Angela is a very tough instructor who can totally kick your butt (and abs, and glutes and thighs) in 55 minutes. Having faced down cancer 4 times in her young life (she's only 31), she's fearless, and refuses to give quarter to old bloated ninnies like me who have weak knees, fat bellies and horrible hemeroids.
Add to this the stress of having a three month long Crohns flare, an early end to my husbands contract at Microsoft, a bored 8-year-old who only wants to eat junk food all day and play with his buddies (who are all wiling away the days in expensive sports camps), hubbys emergency root canal and subsequent consuming of mass quantities of percoset and beer, two editors throwing an assignment back in my face because "no one in our demographic reads anymore" and binging on three dozen homemade lemon vegan cookies, and you have my disastrous life this past week. My husband is a nervous, whining wreak, my son is pudgy and bored, and I am gripping onto the ledge of my sanity for all I am worth, with faith in God and hope for the future of the people I love. Oh, and the brakes are going out on the car, which has a cracked windshield and a broken drivers side window. We don't have the money to have the brakes fixed, so I can only assume we're going to end up in some terrible auto accident that will hopefully not be fatal one of these days.
Other than that, things are fine, and you?
One of the few bright spots this week was a freelance friend of mine, Dana, who hasn't seen me in a year was amazed at how much weight I've lost, and told me "You look great!"
So my 5-6 times a week workout has had some results. I am still 60 pounds too heavy, but I am much firmer than I was a year and a half ago. I also feel like the gals at the WIO gym are so supportive and caring that I've got friends who will listen and understand my dilemas no matter how ridiculous or awful they are. And I can look forward to the fall, when my son will be back in school for 5 hours a day, so I can take walks, plus there will be a new, beefier schedule at the gym, and more classes to choose from. Instructors will return from vacation and there will be new instructors, which is a blessing, as no two teachers teach alike, which is good for our muscles.
This whole year has been a beast, but as we fall into the final third of the annus horribilus, let us hope that something has been learned, ties deepened and that Gods plan, unknowable to us, has been unfolding, as it should.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Spin Salvation
I completed boot camp on June 6, and then ran/walked the Take Steps Crohns and Colitis Foundation 3 mile walkathon the next day in Magnussen Park in Seattle.
I was disappointed by my results from Boot Camp, as I only lost 6 pounds and 6.5 inches. Granted, that's not bad for four weeks, but I lost 10 pounds and many more inches in Carol's six week boot camp last year. So the bar was set higher for this years boot camp. Yet, though I worked myself to exhaustion, I didn't really feel like I was gaining muscle and losing fat. That could be because I had all that trouble with portion sizes (and I never did seem to get it right--Janice was critical of my food choices right up to the last week) or it could be because this boot camp wasn't as fun as Carols "Biggest Loser" camp. I bonded big time with the gals in that camp, and Janices boot camp had guys that added a competitive edge to the workouts that somehow felt judgmental to me, like I was being smirked at because I always came in last on every jog, every skip-walk, every wierd frog jump, inchworm or other seemingly innocent but totally brutal exercise we were made to perform. I still can't do crab-walks backwards, by the way. Just can't lift my body weight onto my wrists and scuttle like seafood uphill. I am not built to scuttle. The best I can manage is a lame lope.
Anyway, I only went to boot camp 3-4 times a week, because I refused to give up my beloved spin class, especially since its taught by the goddess of glutes and princess of pecs, Danielle, who, bless her, makes a religious experience out of Tuesday nights hour long stationary bike ride. Somehow, I always leave her class feeling like I've accomplished something important for my mind, my body and my soul. She's like Depak Chopra channeled into a pretty blonde California beach gal. She was my salvation while I was in boot camp, when I just wanted to toss in the towel and quit, because Danielle, and the other participants in the class, managed to convince me that all was not lost, and that I just had to keep on trying, and all would be well. "Its all in how you think about yourself, and visualize where you want to be with your body," she'd say, and somehow, her kindness and enthusiasm rubbed off and I'd go back to boot camp determined not to look like such a porky dork.
Of course, I've had a long-running Crohn's flare that decided to jump me the evening I began boot camp, and it didn't let up the whole four weeks, so I had to consume a lot of pain pills, Aleve, and extra Pentasa just to be able to stay out of the bathroom long enough to get through an hour of boot camp. Percoset, Naprosin and Levsin, oh my! Now I have Lomotil to add to the line up, because I finally got ahold of my grumpy gastro doc and his nurse, Amy Jo (who is an angel) called it into the pharmacy for me, bless her. But over 5 weeks of having a flare really takes it out of you, and pain meds make me feel tired and depressed, so that could be another reason that this boot camp didn't feel quite right to me. So now Carol and Janice and Angela, another great spin instructor, are encouraging me to do the WIO Triathalon on July 27 at Lake Wilderness. I can float along like a buoy for the swimming part, and I am sure that I can ride a bike, but the running part will be the real challenge, as I am just not a runner. I can jog for 5 minutes or so, but then I have to slow down and walk, and then jog again when I catch my breath. Takes me forever to do a mile (though I shaved 3 minutes off my boot camp mile, from 18 to 15 minutes).So I am giving it some thought, and I might just be challenged to give it a try. Jim said he'd even be willing to try it with me. Who knows, we might even do it as a family!
I was disappointed by my results from Boot Camp, as I only lost 6 pounds and 6.5 inches. Granted, that's not bad for four weeks, but I lost 10 pounds and many more inches in Carol's six week boot camp last year. So the bar was set higher for this years boot camp. Yet, though I worked myself to exhaustion, I didn't really feel like I was gaining muscle and losing fat. That could be because I had all that trouble with portion sizes (and I never did seem to get it right--Janice was critical of my food choices right up to the last week) or it could be because this boot camp wasn't as fun as Carols "Biggest Loser" camp. I bonded big time with the gals in that camp, and Janices boot camp had guys that added a competitive edge to the workouts that somehow felt judgmental to me, like I was being smirked at because I always came in last on every jog, every skip-walk, every wierd frog jump, inchworm or other seemingly innocent but totally brutal exercise we were made to perform. I still can't do crab-walks backwards, by the way. Just can't lift my body weight onto my wrists and scuttle like seafood uphill. I am not built to scuttle. The best I can manage is a lame lope.
Anyway, I only went to boot camp 3-4 times a week, because I refused to give up my beloved spin class, especially since its taught by the goddess of glutes and princess of pecs, Danielle, who, bless her, makes a religious experience out of Tuesday nights hour long stationary bike ride. Somehow, I always leave her class feeling like I've accomplished something important for my mind, my body and my soul. She's like Depak Chopra channeled into a pretty blonde California beach gal. She was my salvation while I was in boot camp, when I just wanted to toss in the towel and quit, because Danielle, and the other participants in the class, managed to convince me that all was not lost, and that I just had to keep on trying, and all would be well. "Its all in how you think about yourself, and visualize where you want to be with your body," she'd say, and somehow, her kindness and enthusiasm rubbed off and I'd go back to boot camp determined not to look like such a porky dork.
Of course, I've had a long-running Crohn's flare that decided to jump me the evening I began boot camp, and it didn't let up the whole four weeks, so I had to consume a lot of pain pills, Aleve, and extra Pentasa just to be able to stay out of the bathroom long enough to get through an hour of boot camp. Percoset, Naprosin and Levsin, oh my! Now I have Lomotil to add to the line up, because I finally got ahold of my grumpy gastro doc and his nurse, Amy Jo (who is an angel) called it into the pharmacy for me, bless her. But over 5 weeks of having a flare really takes it out of you, and pain meds make me feel tired and depressed, so that could be another reason that this boot camp didn't feel quite right to me. So now Carol and Janice and Angela, another great spin instructor, are encouraging me to do the WIO Triathalon on July 27 at Lake Wilderness. I can float along like a buoy for the swimming part, and I am sure that I can ride a bike, but the running part will be the real challenge, as I am just not a runner. I can jog for 5 minutes or so, but then I have to slow down and walk, and then jog again when I catch my breath. Takes me forever to do a mile (though I shaved 3 minutes off my boot camp mile, from 18 to 15 minutes).So I am giving it some thought, and I might just be challenged to give it a try. Jim said he'd even be willing to try it with me. Who knows, we might even do it as a family!
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Passion and Portions
" I'm not going to look in the mirror and get disappointed that I don't look the way I want to now. It will come. But it will take a while. And you know...that's ok. I'm changing. When the changes come and are visible...then great, but it's ok if I don't see them yet. I just know that everyday I'm going to make better decisions." from a post on SparkPeople message boards.
I want to get into the groove of the above poster. I want to not be so frustrated and disappointed in myself because I still have a belly. I want to be able to eat one serving of food and be satisfied.
But let me state that this can, and will happen, its just a matter of time and a battle of wills with my passionate self.
I'm a sensualist, in that I love tasting, smelling, feeling, hearing and seeing beautiful things, and even ordinary things. I find joy in the sound of the creek in our backyard, the smell of fresh concrete and the sound of children laughing. I adore the feel of velvet and satin, combed cotton or fluffy chenile against my skin.
And I love the taste of food.
I have no problem eating healthy, mainly because I grew up eating healthy foods that my mother prepared. She also managed to bake a number of great treats in her kitchen, and I indulged my sweet tooth often, because the steroids I had to take for asthma left me with no feeling of satiety. I was always hungry, didn't matter if I'd just had dinner or not. But I did eat something from the four food groups at every meal, and I learned to love the flavors of fresh food. We got all our meat from my grandparents farms, so I also grew up with real Angus beef that wasn't fed any hormones or antibiotics. Yet I wasn't very fond of beef, and for the most part I ate small amounts because I wasn't all that fond of the taste of steak (though I always loved roasts and stews). We always had a truck patch in our backyard, and grew a lot of our own veggies, as did our neighbors, so we'd swap pounds of tomatoes for pounds of pole beans and cucumbers for beets or muskmelon (anyone outside of Iowa calls them cantaloupes). Since moving to Seattle, a whole world of seafood tastes have opened up to me, and I've come to adore sushi and salmon, tilapia and tuna.
My problem with eating good food has been that I love it too much...I eat more than one serving of blueberries, more than one serving of fish, more than two servings of broccoli.
Now that I'm in boot camp, Janice is having none of this excess portions, and came to my home yesterday to show me how much I can eat.
She showed me that in making a cup of my pinhead or steel cut oatmeal, and then eating the resultant several cups, I am eating somewhere around 8 servings of food, which isn't a good idea calorie wise or belly-wise. She grabbed a small plate from my cupboard and showed me that I could eat a fist-sized serving of each food, protein, carb, veg/fruit, for each meal, but that was all. No seconds or thirds of pasta, no 3 cups of salad.
I am going to have to get used to not being so enamored of my taste buds that I keep eating until I am full. I will have to be a bit hungry until my stomach shrinks up, something I am not looking forward to at all. The sensualist who is passionate about beautiful food and all the other senses is going to have to tone it down when it comes to my lust for taste.
Ah passion, its such a double-edged sword, especially for someone with an Italian heart.
I want to get into the groove of the above poster. I want to not be so frustrated and disappointed in myself because I still have a belly. I want to be able to eat one serving of food and be satisfied.
But let me state that this can, and will happen, its just a matter of time and a battle of wills with my passionate self.
I'm a sensualist, in that I love tasting, smelling, feeling, hearing and seeing beautiful things, and even ordinary things. I find joy in the sound of the creek in our backyard, the smell of fresh concrete and the sound of children laughing. I adore the feel of velvet and satin, combed cotton or fluffy chenile against my skin.
And I love the taste of food.
I have no problem eating healthy, mainly because I grew up eating healthy foods that my mother prepared. She also managed to bake a number of great treats in her kitchen, and I indulged my sweet tooth often, because the steroids I had to take for asthma left me with no feeling of satiety. I was always hungry, didn't matter if I'd just had dinner or not. But I did eat something from the four food groups at every meal, and I learned to love the flavors of fresh food. We got all our meat from my grandparents farms, so I also grew up with real Angus beef that wasn't fed any hormones or antibiotics. Yet I wasn't very fond of beef, and for the most part I ate small amounts because I wasn't all that fond of the taste of steak (though I always loved roasts and stews). We always had a truck patch in our backyard, and grew a lot of our own veggies, as did our neighbors, so we'd swap pounds of tomatoes for pounds of pole beans and cucumbers for beets or muskmelon (anyone outside of Iowa calls them cantaloupes). Since moving to Seattle, a whole world of seafood tastes have opened up to me, and I've come to adore sushi and salmon, tilapia and tuna.
My problem with eating good food has been that I love it too much...I eat more than one serving of blueberries, more than one serving of fish, more than two servings of broccoli.
Now that I'm in boot camp, Janice is having none of this excess portions, and came to my home yesterday to show me how much I can eat.
She showed me that in making a cup of my pinhead or steel cut oatmeal, and then eating the resultant several cups, I am eating somewhere around 8 servings of food, which isn't a good idea calorie wise or belly-wise. She grabbed a small plate from my cupboard and showed me that I could eat a fist-sized serving of each food, protein, carb, veg/fruit, for each meal, but that was all. No seconds or thirds of pasta, no 3 cups of salad.
I am going to have to get used to not being so enamored of my taste buds that I keep eating until I am full. I will have to be a bit hungry until my stomach shrinks up, something I am not looking forward to at all. The sensualist who is passionate about beautiful food and all the other senses is going to have to tone it down when it comes to my lust for taste.
Ah passion, its such a double-edged sword, especially for someone with an Italian heart.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Discouraged about Veg
I've enrolled in Janice's very tough 4 week boot camp, mainly because she's been kind enough to give me a free ride, (because I'd written a story about her bodybuilding journey) and because Carol says that I have graduated from the easier 6 week boot camp and I'm ready for a good pounding from Janice.
The first week started out on the wrong foot, when I ate a cup of Kalamata olives the Sunday night before and bloated up with 6 extra pounds of water weight. I was astonished at the number on the scale, but was being processed so quickly that I didn't say anything to Janice about it. Then I noticed that there were 8 or more men in the group, and that many of the women were hardbodies who didn't look like they really needed any kind of fitness challenge. I was only able to jog and walk in intervals for a mile, and my time was a wince-inducing 18 minutes. Almost everyone else did the mile in 9-14 minutes.
Then Janice made it clear that she's not Carol by having us do tons of push ups for even small infractions, such as being late or, as one guy in the class found out, eating pancakes for breakfast on a Sunday with his wife. He had to do 140 push ups, poor guy, and Janice refused to allow us to break up the push ups into smaller increments and do them over several sessions. I got 40 extra push ups for eating two mini-Luna bars and then, the next day when I only ate 1, she gave me 60 push ups because she said I should have known better than to eat one again. ARG!
But despite that one set back, I thought that I was doing okay, until Janice drove me home Friday after boot camp class (it was too hot to be outdoors) and told me, after I related what I was eating, that I can't have more than one cup of lettuce salad or steamed broccoli. I generally have two cups of salad with a can of tuna mixed with hummus atop it, and I love broccoli so I tend to eat at least a couple of cups of it. "You can't be full," Janice told me. "You can eat until you are satisfied, but not until you are full." When I tried to explain to her that those are the same things to me, she said that they aren't the same at all. Apparently I am supposed to still be hungry all the time, I am assuming so that my stomach will shrink in capacity.
When I was in my 20s, I didn't mind going hungry, and in fact I got used to it after awhile. But now, 20 years later, I don't feel the same about being hungry. I don't really know if its worth it to me to starve myself again, just to lose a few pounds.
I also struggle like crazy in boot camp. I am nearly always the last in line, and it takes me more time to get through the exercises than it does anyone else. Plus, in last nights boot camp at Cedar River Park, we did an obstacle course that involved a lot of jumping and leaping, which is really hard on my left knee (which tends to hurt and give out on me) and by the time we had finished an hour of it, I was so wiped out I felt like I was going to keel over.
I find myself being discouraged, exhausted and questioning whether or not I should stay in this boot camp, or quit and just keep going with my regular WIO schedule of classes 5-6 times a week.
I do have a goal, and that 65 pounds is bound to come off of me at some point, but I just don't know if I can gut this out. The stress is terrible, there is only one person in the boot camp whom I can relate to, and she doesn't come to the camp but twice or three times a week, and not always on the same nights that I do. Everyone else in the camp seems to be keeping their distance from the lone fat gal, and when I tried to make a joke last night about my boobs jiggling too much, no one even bothered to laugh or act like they'd heard me. I felt invisible. And that's another problem, I can't seem to find a decent sports bra that allows me to do all this jumping around without having my big breasts flap and flop all over the place, which is embarrassing.
So I feel fat and stupid and like I have failed, and I am only 1 week and 1 day into boot camp.
What should I do?
The first week started out on the wrong foot, when I ate a cup of Kalamata olives the Sunday night before and bloated up with 6 extra pounds of water weight. I was astonished at the number on the scale, but was being processed so quickly that I didn't say anything to Janice about it. Then I noticed that there were 8 or more men in the group, and that many of the women were hardbodies who didn't look like they really needed any kind of fitness challenge. I was only able to jog and walk in intervals for a mile, and my time was a wince-inducing 18 minutes. Almost everyone else did the mile in 9-14 minutes.
Then Janice made it clear that she's not Carol by having us do tons of push ups for even small infractions, such as being late or, as one guy in the class found out, eating pancakes for breakfast on a Sunday with his wife. He had to do 140 push ups, poor guy, and Janice refused to allow us to break up the push ups into smaller increments and do them over several sessions. I got 40 extra push ups for eating two mini-Luna bars and then, the next day when I only ate 1, she gave me 60 push ups because she said I should have known better than to eat one again. ARG!
But despite that one set back, I thought that I was doing okay, until Janice drove me home Friday after boot camp class (it was too hot to be outdoors) and told me, after I related what I was eating, that I can't have more than one cup of lettuce salad or steamed broccoli. I generally have two cups of salad with a can of tuna mixed with hummus atop it, and I love broccoli so I tend to eat at least a couple of cups of it. "You can't be full," Janice told me. "You can eat until you are satisfied, but not until you are full." When I tried to explain to her that those are the same things to me, she said that they aren't the same at all. Apparently I am supposed to still be hungry all the time, I am assuming so that my stomach will shrink in capacity.
When I was in my 20s, I didn't mind going hungry, and in fact I got used to it after awhile. But now, 20 years later, I don't feel the same about being hungry. I don't really know if its worth it to me to starve myself again, just to lose a few pounds.
I also struggle like crazy in boot camp. I am nearly always the last in line, and it takes me more time to get through the exercises than it does anyone else. Plus, in last nights boot camp at Cedar River Park, we did an obstacle course that involved a lot of jumping and leaping, which is really hard on my left knee (which tends to hurt and give out on me) and by the time we had finished an hour of it, I was so wiped out I felt like I was going to keel over.
I find myself being discouraged, exhausted and questioning whether or not I should stay in this boot camp, or quit and just keep going with my regular WIO schedule of classes 5-6 times a week.
I do have a goal, and that 65 pounds is bound to come off of me at some point, but I just don't know if I can gut this out. The stress is terrible, there is only one person in the boot camp whom I can relate to, and she doesn't come to the camp but twice or three times a week, and not always on the same nights that I do. Everyone else in the camp seems to be keeping their distance from the lone fat gal, and when I tried to make a joke last night about my boobs jiggling too much, no one even bothered to laugh or act like they'd heard me. I felt invisible. And that's another problem, I can't seem to find a decent sports bra that allows me to do all this jumping around without having my big breasts flap and flop all over the place, which is embarrassing.
So I feel fat and stupid and like I have failed, and I am only 1 week and 1 day into boot camp.
What should I do?
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