Pow! Right in the Kisser

I reiterate my former stance that hormones are evil. I've done everything right this week, food, fluid intake, distribution of calories, exercise, and the only thing left to point a finger at is hormones for sucker punching my weigh-in this morning.
Edit: So I whined about my 1/2 pound gain to Chris this morning. He asked me all the right questions about cycles and hormones and said all the right things, but could tell I was being a baby about it. It's too early to re-test anything, but he got me up on the scale anyway. I was quite dehydrated. Not sure how that's possible if I'm retaining fluid and drinking 10+ glasses a day, but more significantly...my body fat% was down! That was the boost I needed. The rest of my workout went smoothly and thanks to some serious stretching yesterday, I felt good when I left. Take that hormones!

Take Two and Call Me in the Morning

I actually got a full night's sleep last night. That is supposed to be one of the benefits of regular exercise. I remember from my days as an athlete that I could fall asleep quickly, sleep all night, and wake up with energy. Last night I fell asleep inside of two pages of my book (no insult intended to Dan Brown,) had seven point five hours completely uninterrupted, and woke up on my own. It was a necessary thing. It should have been a glorious thing. When your body is in a constant state of flux and confusion, however, and you're keeping it that way on purpose - demanding that it change and adapt, it seems like I'm always tired. Weary or fatigued may be better words. I know I'm getting older, but if I reach way back to my college days, I do remember the sort of mid-season feeling of "are we there yet?" I will say I miss the ability to eat 2-3000 calories a day (without a lot of thought toward nutrition) and know I was going to burn it off between my metabolism and 4+ hours a day in workouts. Three weeks and 90 minutes a day has brought out those old feelings. It's good to know they're normal for me.

This is the point in the "season" (which sounds better than "program") that I can't think about tomorrow's workout. I have to spend today recovering from today's workout. Except to lay out my clothes, a strategy that keeps me from making excuses in the morning, I can't let my body consider what I will ask of it tomorrow. Instead I focus on my food choices, keeping my house and family moving, and getting the laundry caught up so I can wear one of the three pairs of workout pants that actually fit me. I'm not depressed. Those endorphines make it all but impossible and I appreciate them greatly, but I am body-tired. I'm looking forward to that time when there's less of me to haul around between workouts and I've convinced my body to speed up it's sluggish metabolism.

There's Always a Bright Side

Women have long had a love affair with shoes. The giraffe print pair above are among my favorites. They add a touch of whimsy to a staid, boring outfit or even whisper rebellion from under a serious business suit. A great pair of shoes can make a cheap outfit look more expensive or give you confidence by demanding you stand a little taller. But most significantly and unlike clothing, you can gain fifty pounds and still wear the same size.

This, unfortunately, cannot be said of boots. Boot are about more than your feet. You'll note to the right that one of the things I want is for my boots to zip all the way up. Sunday I wore boots to church and no, they did not zip all the way up. *sigh* I made my fingers red and bruised trying. I did eventually get the zippers most of the way up, but it took about 20 minutes; probably more time than I spent on my hair. When I bought the boots, they zipped right up and I had to work to keep my socks up inside them.

Monday morning came and I whined to my trainer Chris about my big calves while he was working my legs to death and demanding calf-raises. He's wonderfully optimistic and said in true "look on the bright side" fashion..."Well, at least you don't have cankles."

Some Like it Hot

What is there to say about the weekend that hasn't already been said? Less structure. Fewer good food options. All of which usually leads to poor choices. I had a hot dog and hot chocolate at the football game last night. I don't feel badly, it was within my calories for the day, but it didn't do anything good for me either. It was cold and raining and muddy and if the hot chocolate had actually been hot, it may have been worth more to me, but it wasn't. I blame the stupid lady who sued McDonald's for having hot coffee when she was too much of an clutz to keep from spilling on herself. No one can get anything hot to-go anymore. You can't even set your own hot water heater to get water that's actually hot without all kinds of "you're going to burn and die" warnings on the heater itself.

I think when you take away the easy appeal and satisfaction of sugar and fat, things like flavor and temperature in food have greater meaning. This of course brings the unhappy quandary of actually caring about what I eat and needing to plan my menus not to keep things diet-appropriate, but because I've become a food snob. Being a food snob usually means a lot of eye-rolling from the teenagers, crying from the youngest and supportive but suspect looks from my husband. Then I wonder why I bother with the menu planning and the shopping. Why don't these people appreciate my efforts? Oh yea, because they want their sugar and their fat and they're not trying to lose 50+ pounds...yet.

The Third Week

The first week of any new "program" is always an adventure. It's full of hope and determination. Motivation prevails when soreness and sugar withdrawls set in. Images dance through your head of your future self. All is daisies and sunshine.

The second week is the week you fight with your body to determine dominance. You body chuckles and says, "Well, that was a nice little experiment. Now lets get back to reality. I want a burger, fries and a chocolate malt." For a moment, there is a part of your brain that says, "Well, that's a lot of protein" and tries to justify any number of "off program" foods. Then you start to have converstions with yourself rationalizing the idea that if you ate nothing else all day you could still stay within your calories. Of course you know you're going to get hungry and eat anyway. Not eating anything else all day is not a healthy thing to do. This is supposed to be about a new you, a healthier you. So you buckle down, take some Advil and have a protein water in the hopes that it will make you feel full.

The third week is when you seriously consider your sanity. You may have even lost a couple of pounds. But when you consider the food you've eaten (and haven't eaten) and the calories you've burned and the soreness and headaches and menu planning...how much are those few pounds really worth? It's not even like you're in a different dress size. You know that Sunday is going to come and you'll be facing your closet with nothing to wear to church...again....still. You also have to grudgingly admit that you're sleeping better, your skin hasn't looked this good in a long time, and you have more energy. Rats. You hate that it makes a difference across your life, not just in your closet because if it didn't, you wouldn't have to keep going. But it does. And you do.

Not Giving Up

I have had many ups and downs this year with my life and my weight, but not a lot of success. The year is not over, however. I'm not above admitting when I need help. Last week I hired help. I hired accountability. I tracked down and hooked up with a personal trainer I've worked with previously. He's currently managing a small, personal studio with one-on-one clients. Chris Brown is a really talented, creative trainer with a good blend of motivation and humor. He has the ability to torture me and make me laugh while he does it. That's a true talent. I know he can get the results out of me that I'm after, but what really has me worried is what happens after that, when the accountability isn't there anymore.

We've already completed the initial assessment. I've lost a lot of strength and flexibility. My time on the 1 mile run/walk was a joke despite all the spinning I do. I'm just not a runner. Tomorrow I have to turn in my first food log with some "before" pictures. I pulled the ones from the head of this blog. I'm really sore right now. This is the stuff that makes people quit. I'm not quitting, that's why God created Aleve and jacuzzi tubs. I'm excited to not be in my own way anymore.
Click on the title of this entry for a link to the training studio.

Mirror Mirror on the Wall

There is nothing attractive about the accountability that goes with being surrounded by floor length mirrors while you sweat and work-out. Everywhere you look, there you are in all your chubby glory. You can't run away from yourself. It is it's own kind of motivation inspite of the trainer cajoling and pushing. My trainer requires 30 minutes of cardio from me after our 45 minutes session. Today as I looked across at the mirrors from the elliptical machine, I could see myself in the corner where two walls of mirrors met. Like a fun house, the effect was to cut me down the middle vertically. For just a moment, I could see me as I used to be, as someone I'm going to be. So maybe mirrors aren't always all bad and mocking. Maybe.