Category: Self-Improvement

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You Can Choose Not To

I don’t usually discuss something as personal as a dream publicly, but this one I really wanted to share.

I had a quasi-nightmare last night. There was this virus that turned you into this ugly, violent creature (probably inspired by zombie stories, NIght of the Comet, I Am Legend, and the reavers from Firefly). The people that had been turned were mostly big, powerfully built men at first. It was their job to spread this virus to other people.

I was in this large building with a huge meeting hall and several smaller rooms intended for other purposes. The one I was in was a basic meeting room with another refugee I’d never met before. She and I got caught by the creature and injected with the virus. We ran, thinking that at least we could get out before we were given instructions or turned into tools.

As we were running my companion was starting to turn. A greenish warty substance started snaking a line down her face, showing the change. She was really scared, and looked at me as we ran.

“You’re not turning!” she said, out of breath.

“Oh, that,” I said, as if I’d just remembered. “Well, you can choose not to.”

“Oh, yeah,” she said, and her face cleared up.

I woke up after that.

But I found it a pretty powerful dream.

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Busy

I have a bigger contract and a little article to work on today. I really, really enjoy being a writer when I have work! LMAO.

One of the neat things about what I do is that I often have to do research on subject. Basically, my job is learning stuff, then reporting on it. There are days when I feel like the main character in Friday during her Pajaro Sands days1. This is not a bad thing.

The gym was fun today. Workouts were all good, people were just… friendly today. I always like it when people seem to be in a good mood.

There was a new woman doing weights and was doing most of the same exercises I do, but using dumbbells. She looked at me a little funny when I was doing bench presses. I have to chuckle, because she was using almost exactly the same amount of weight I started with back when I started lifting in the summer of ’06. If her goals are to get strong, in a couple of years, she’s gonna look back amazed.

I tried a new exercise, the Vertical Leg Raise. This is hard, friends. I was getting bored with incline situps. It’s not that they’re not a challenge. I was just sick of them. So, I went ahead and did the new exercise, then commented to the woman who’d just come in for the first time today that I finally got up the guts to try that exercise2.  She laughed and said she was surprised I had to get up the guts to do anything.

I told her that for the first year I was lifting, I was using a set of adjustable dumbbells at home, and that at  my weight, I was actually a little scared to step into the room with all the free weights.

‘Course the real answer is that unless you’re goofing off and hogging equipment, you’re probably gonna be plenty welcome in the weight room, no matter what your fitness level or size.

1Though without nearly as much sex, dammit!
2Yeah, there really are times when I have to work up my courage to try stuff.

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What Have I Gotten Myself Into?

My local gym has a 50 Mile Club for swimmers.

After I got out of the pool today, a lifeguard approached me and asked me if I wanted to sign up and do it.

They count in 10 lap (500 yard) increments.  My usual swim is a 1650, but I think I’m gonna bump that up to a 2000…

Stop looking at me like that.    I’m only doing it for the t-shirt.

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The Comparison Trap

One of the fitness writers I really like is reluctant to post her numbers much.  You know, how much weight she’s lifting.  With her position as a fitness educator, it makes a lot of sense.  Either you’d look at them and be too intimidated to want to start lifting, or as an experienced lifter might say, “She ain’t all that.”

I posted my numbers recently to a board where exercise was under discussion and got called a powerlifter, or had people really surprised I could lift that much, or compared themselves and what they could do to what I am doing and feeling discouraged –especially when they find out how much I weigh.

I like the ego boo of “Damn, you’re strong!”  I’ll admit that.  But I’m not by any stretch of the imagination a powerlifter.  Nor should anyone look at my own weights and be discouraged.

The comparison thing can be just gawdawful stupid.  I do it in the gym, myself.  What’s worse, I don’t tend to compare myself to the female lifters, I compare myself to the men.

I was lifting this morning and there was one other person lifting there, too.  This guy really was a powerlifter.  He was working out with 250lbs on the bench press.  I felt apologetic about my pitiful 70 lbs on my own bench.  Dumb?  Of course.

Chances are slim, indeed, that I’ll ever be working out regularly with 250 lbs benching.  Well, okay, let’s rephrase that.  That’s not even a goal for me.   There are women who can bench 200+ and most of them are professional bodybuilders or weightlifters.   (These are the drug-free stats.  There are enhanced women who lift more than twice that).

For ordinary fitness (rather than as a competitive athlete), comparing yourself to anything but your last (recent) workout is absurd.

I had a martial arts instructor once who put it this way, “Don’t worry about whether or not you’re better than the guy next to you.   Worry about whether or not you’re better than yesterday.”

Sensible.

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Looking for the mouse

Believe it or not, this video has given me a far greater understanding of and sympathy to fanfic.

Thing is, it’s not about fanfic at all, but about an amazing cognitive shift. Please do watch it. It’s fantastic.

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"Done" is Good

I’m rather unsatisfied with my swim today.

The best thing I can say is that I showed up and swam for 40 minutes. Yes, that counts. I did my workout. I just prefer them to be more inspiring and uplifting than today’s was.

Notice I didn’t say “I swam a mile”. I’ll be damned if I know how far I did swim.

I brought a lot of it on myself. You see, I did not get my lazy, procrastinating, slacker ass out of the house until an hour after I usually hit the pool. The pool has become increasingly more crowded in recent weeks. I suppose as swimsuit season is approaching, people are wanting to get in swimmin’ shape. Their prerogative and they paid to be there. I can’t really complain about it[1].

So, I walked to the gym – in the rain, I might add. Then here we are with a crowded pool. I waited until there was a lane with only one person in it so that I would not have to circle swim. I find that difficult and distracting in a workout, so I try to avoid it[2]. Well, that little gambit didn’t work. I did have to circle swim for awhile anyway. I lost count of my laps, though I knew what time I got in the pool, so I decided to go comfortably hard for 40 minutes and call it good. I had a lot on my mind I needed to chew on, anyway, so the time was good for that.

Then I get out of the pool, shower off and leave the gym to see that it’s raining much harder. So I walk home in the rain, dammit.

I’m cranky about not feeling great and accomplished after the workout mostly because feeling good is my major motivator. Can I feel good about the fact I sucked it up and did something anyway? Of course.

But I like the feelings of euphoria a lot better. It’s just a fact of working out that I’m not going to get that feeling every time.

[1] Although I admit to contemplating writing an article about how terrible swimming is and how rotten it is for you. You know, in the hopes it would drive people out of the pool.

[2] As long as the alternative is not missing a swim, mind!

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Motivation

This is gonna talk about body, weight and weight loss issues. Stop reading now if that stuff offends you.

I’m thinking about this because I’m feeling unmotivated to go to the gym. One day, more or less, really doesn’t make a big difference in health or fitness or weight loss. I’m going to do it anyway because I’m interested in keeping my habits strong. It may be a real slacker workout. Who knows. But it’ll be a workout, by damn.

I’m in a funny place body-wise right now. While I am, indeed, trying to take off some excess adipose tissue, I don’t look in the mirror and hate what I see. I look fine. I’m using the clinical term because it’s not too terribly emotionally charged.

I don’t look at my eating habits with any disgust. I’ve switched to doing No S and ya know, it’s a nice, sustainable and sane way to eat. It contains excess, is non-invasive, and I can have treats on weekends if I want them. I’ve been losing about a pound a week, which is about as fast as I care to do so. (Much faster and you’re risking losing muscle. I run my thumb over the calluses on my palms and shudder that the work might be wasted. No thanks).

So where is the funny coming from?

Well, I’m writing a book about getting fit without getting too caught up in the weight loss aspects. I almost feel like I shouldn’t lose weight because of the book. On the one hand, I’m saying, “Look, you can get fit without being focused on getting skinny/thin/whatever.” and on the other? Well, while I’m changing my eating patterns about as moderately as is humanly possible, that change is causing a loss of adipose tissue, and that’s kind of why I chose to do it.

Am I thinking about getting thin when I’m working out? Not at all. If I’m in the weight room, I’m thinking about form. I’m doing the arithmetic twice to make sure I’m lifting the correct amount of weight for my workout. If I’m walking, I’m probably listening to music and thinking about what I’m going to be writing next. In the pool, I’m probably also mentally composing something I’ll be writing — a Misanthrope article, making notes about how the workout is making me feel to talk about motivation to get fit, working out a scene in Stoneflower.

Does, “This will help you lose weight” get me into the gym? No. Not even a little. I have a fair idea of the calories burned by my workouts and they’re not high enough to be a great immediate motivator. (Exercise is important, but it’s not the big calorie burner people think it is). I’m actually feeling unmotivated today. I’m visualizing how much I liked the feeling of accomplishment after a great set of bench presses. I’m running my thumb over the calluses in my hands with a certain measure of pride. I’m thinking about how cool it feels to have Dream Theater’s “Learning to Live” playing on my iPod while I’m doing squats, and the anticipatory rush I feel as I hear the keyboard intro, flip my ponytail over the bar and load the iron on my shoulders. (I have a “weights” playlist and for some reason my iPod will trip to “Learning to Live” when I start my squat set about 80% of the time).

If I feel unmotivated to swim, I visualize the moments where it felt good. I imagine being an Orca, moving sleekly through the water. I think about how I love the blue of the water and the way the light plays off the ripples when I’m doing breaststroke. I think about how the water feels moving past my body. I visualize the stroke technique and the way the stretch and reach feels good when I get the crawl correct. I think about the sense of accomplishment I feel when I haul my exhausted butt out of the water after completing a mile. I think about sensation of my hair coming down with a hot slap on my back when I pull off my cap — and the feeling of pride at how hard I had to work out for my hair to be hot in the cool water.

That is what motivates me on a daily basis, even if I have other long-term effects. The scale? It’s a number. Body shape? I only spend about a few minutes a day in front of a mirror. Doing? Ahhhh, that does feel good.

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Getting my Courage Back

I tore my left ACL (knee ligament) in the early summer of 2004 attempting a flying side kick.  Yes, yes, that wasn’t the wisest of things for an overfat woman in her mid thirties to try.   I know, I know.

I didn’t even realize the ligament was ruptured until the lack of stability was causing me problems a couple of years later.   I got an MRI and was cautioned that surgery would indeed help and probably solve my stability issues, but that it wouldn’t solve any issues of pain I might have — in fact, I might have more trouble in that area.

Pain, I’m used to.  The lack of stability was not something I’m okay with.  So I got the surgery and wound up having the medial meniscus repaired at the same time.  (We didn’t know it’d been torn until they opened my knee up).  Lack of mobility freaks me out, and recovery from the surgery has to rank up there with the scariest experiences in my life after a couple of incidents where my children were severely ill or injured.

It’s been a year on since I’ve had the repair done.

I still never do anything much that requires jumping or torque on my knee, even though that ligament is probably stronger than the one I was born with.   Because I’d had to spend so much time being cautious on stairs and uneven ground, it’s become an ingrained habit.  In the winter, I walk on ice as if I were in my eighties rather than half that.

I’m starting to plod rather than leap.  I’m not light on my feet.   This isn’t a weight issue.  I’ve been quite light on my feet at considerably heavier than I am now  –probably not as strong, either!   Hell, I’m not even doing dance moves that I used to.

I’ve been playing a little with plyometrics and doing (careful!) jumping exercises on my stairs.   Thing is, it’s a hit or miss, catch as catch can type of thing.  I think it would be useful to develop a definite program with gentle progression and make it a habit.

If I get used to certain moves, maybe I’ll be getting my physical courage and faith in my body back.

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Swim today.  You know how not all workouts feel glorious?

This one did feel wonderful.  I had my groove on.  Other than counting laps, I didn’t think about anything while I was swimming.  Usually I work out stuff I’m going to write, or try to chew on a problem to see if I can solve it.  Today, because I’m teaching a class in Word, I had to get my swim in quite early in the morning.  I don’t think my brain had turned on yet, even if the sun was up.

I shared a lane with a guy who likes to do pullups on the starting blocks at the end of every few laps.  I notice that’s a popular thing for some swimmers to do.  Tempted to try it to see if I can.  With the support of starting half in the water, it might be possible.  And fun, if I manage it.  I doubt I’ll make that much of a part of my swimming routine, though, other than variety.

I had a good class yesterday.  The students were interested and involved.  God, I love it when that happens.  I suspect part of it was that I really like that particular class  (Advanced Excel).   It’s moderately geeky, and there’s more room to play and explore than with the other classes.

What was really nice was that I think I’ve convinced one of my students to experiment more.  Every time he’d ask, “What’ll happen if I do <foo>?”  I’d reply, “Try it.”

Sometimes it was because I didn’t know, honestly.  But sometimes it was because I really like to get my students into the habit of exploring.

Today I’m teaching Intermediate Word.  For me, it’s not as exciting a class.  I mean, I like it well enough, and it’s a nice change from endlessly teaching Excel (which is the bulk of what I do for teaching).  But it’s kind of routine unless I get a group for whom the material is somehow exciting.   Then it’s a lot of fun, but that’s true of any class.

‘Course, any teacher will now tell me that figuring out a way to generate excitement and enthusiasm up front is the way to go with this.  And they’d be right!  There are some games I sometimes come up with that even the adults like.  I’ve used one where every time I misuse a term and a student spots it, they get a point.  Believe it or not, this gets them paying attention.  You’d think it wouldn’t but it does.  I came up with it one day when I taught after being up all night in the hospital with a child.  It was for me to stay focused, but it generated some interest for the class, and the mutual focus wound up making it an excellent class.

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What's Fit?

A person capable of swimming a mile has achieved an above average level of fitness.

— Percy Norman Swim Club

Hmmm…

I have to say I have to frown a little at this one. Not that I’m not still excited that I finally can swim a mile. I freely admit I get a big ole kick out of it. I worked a long time to do it, and that it’s my usual swimming workout is kinda cool to me. It was a big <ahem> milestone.

It doesn’t stop me from hurting when I’m on my feet all day. Hell, it doesn’t stop me from hurting when I’m in the water on my bad days. My joints are so bad right now my hands hurt while I was swimming, never mind how my hips, knees and ankles feel walking home from the gym. This means I’m not exactly gonna be able to hike a few miles even if I need to.

I see fitness as being able to cope with random emergencies and get through one’s day comfortably. When I have flares like this, it does interfere with my day, by damn! Forget running away from danger.

Does this mean I can’t get “fit”? To a degree, that’s about right. I really can’t.

But I do what I can. “Can” is swimming a mile (and used to be swimming 400 yards), or walking two or three (and used to be a couple of blocks). “Can” is lifting heavy weights a few times a week. I can prevent muscle atrophy. I can get my heart pumping harder for a half hour or so to keep my cardiovascular system healthy. I can lift heavy stuff to maintain my bone density. I’m certainly far fitter than I would be if I did not attempt to move on a regular basis.

Do I find it discouraging that I’m never going to get to the point where I can run an easy 5K or be able to go all day like a lumberjack?  Kinda.   I just try to ignore that, though, and keep on with what I’m doing because I know that working out is what I need to do.

1My maternal grandmother