Like Sugar for Coffee, but Not

As I transition from personal training to equipping friends with tools to prepare food more healthfully and quickly at home, I have seen a huge change in my own habits.

Making our own bread at home, it is now made exclusively with honey.  Honey!  No sugar.  

Could it be that that is one reason I savor each piece of bread and feel better, fuller?

It's taken a couple months to let this sink in.  Like any organic chicken with its head still intact, I look at trends upside down and sideways.  I'm never on the front end of them.  I thought I was with grinding my own wheat (check out Wendy's Fresh Mills), but my friend in Colorado corrected me that everyone on and west of the Rockies already has a food mill: it's this side that's behind the curve.

I had no trouble with sugar in bread - but changing to honey was a no-brainer.  Who doesn't love a good honey loaf?

Still, I could tell sugar was the next villain when movie makers assaulted it with their good vs. evil dramatization in the January released film "Fed Up." See the trailer here.

I get a little annoyed when films say that companies "trying to make money" is a bad thing. It's like, as they collect your $9.50 entry ticket, they say out of the other sides of their mouths that corporations are bad. So this cynicism means I usually watch them once they are at Redbox.  I also sometimes need to prove I'm not easily herded with the sheep simply because the Hollywood shepherds use awesome cinematography and music... or maybe I am, so I instinctively protect myself.

For example, the month after I watched the movie Food, Inc., I couldn't function in polite society because our habits involved a lot of chicken, and beef. A mild depression ensued.  Watch the movie Fresh sometime immediately after that one if you want to come away encouraged.

Here is my husband's answer to health: planting our own food.  Here we are picking our blueberries!

So, this sugar thing was my last dietary-sheep standing.  Applause, please: like your own personal, virtual avatar, I made a big change this week.  I think you will benefit from hearing about it.  You now know me, how long I have resisted.  You know how strong I am.

Now listen.

I had my first four cups of coffee on Thursday with honey instead of sugar.  

Let that sink in.  Without mood swings, without highs and lows.  Yeah, that's how it sunk in for me, too. Everyone in my household benefitted.  I couldn't believe it.

But, I had never tried it in more than one cup before.  I had never liked the taste and decided it wasn't worth it.  This week, I finally tried it in a second cup of coffee.  I figured I lived, so I tried it in the third.  And now it's gone, that sugar in each cup.

It's definitely an acquired taste, but may I encourage you: so was coffee! You can do it.  You can!

I actually feel different: smoother.

And, unbelievably, less bitter.

Morsels of Fun!

I'm going to cut to the chase this time.  You guys are so awesome, weeding through my verbosity all the time, I'm just going to reward your perserverance!

The first morsel of education, as I told you on Monday, was that I could gain 44 nutrients if I ground my own grain.  But if I could gain, what had I been losing?  I discovered the flour I was buying had hardly any nutrients left in it!  If I could refrigerate my freshly ground grains and that would help preserve the nutrients, then since the flour I was buying had not been refrigerated, that meant it was not fresh.

Oh.  And fresh is not just one of those five letter trendy words.  Fresh means BETTER for the body.

The second morsel was that the sugars and preservatives in the bread (two words which never really scared me) could be removed and there could still exist good bread.

I didn't believe it till I tasted it.

Now, we make bread that has grain, honey, and yeast in it.  We use a dough enhancer that's all natural.  It's amazing to know there is one less [BIG] place where sugar resides in our house.  AND IT WAS SO SIMPLE.

Tune in later this week for the kicker, the third morsel that sent me over the edge into what I used to call Granola Land.

Rich food, rich story

As you read in my last post, this story just keeps getting richer.

I have never been a foodie.  I honestly just eat what's in front of me.  As I get older, I see how that could be a problem.  And yet, I don't want that to be an obsession.  I have always thought how I spend my time shows what I worship, and food has never been a satisfying idol for me :)

So - I like to keep things simple.

Enter Technology 

Do we or do we not live in the 21st century?  I purchased two machines, the Nutri Mill and the Bosch Universal Plus, to make the transition to health easier.  I have set up a business I believe in this so very much, called Wendy's Fresh Mills.  In the next few days, I will walk you through the morsels of education that blew my mind and caused me to make such a dramatic change in how we lead life at home.

We now grind our own wheat, spelt, seeds, AND the beans and rice we have been grinding for seven years.

First Morsel

The Nutri Mill was specifically built for this purpose.  Grinding the beans and rice left me with a cemetery of blenders that just couldn't cut it.  Now, we are now free to keep grinding, and grinding more types of whole grains and rices and beans, to retain the 44 nutrients that are lost in these flours if they have not been refrigerated.

Yes, folks, 44 nutrients have the potential to be lost if they are not refrigerated after the grinding process!

And that is your first morsel.  Come back on Wednesday for more.  In the meantime, visit me on Facebook at Wendy's Fresh Mills for more information.  This isn't a shameless plug.  This is a plug for your health!

From Muffintop to Muffins

Well, folks, in the final analysis, I may have gotten rid of the muffin top, but not rid of the muffins.

With a little help from the right jeans (thank you Marta for referring me to Miss Me jeans), this personal trainer is rockin the waistline.

I also ended up training for a couple of half marathons, and for some reason, that helped!  So that's that for muffin top.  Without vasering, I might add.

But the muffins... the muffins are here to stay.

A New Start

I am embracing the muffins, and making them more healthful.  My family enjoys them; nay, we love them. My vegetables love their shot at being stealth, too, crammed into muffins.  They're like Jack Bauer, in a kitchen.

I want to start to share with you ways I have changed carbs into wonderful sources of nutrition.  The story ends with major technology entering my life and making me less challenged.

Let's Start with a Prequel

But it starts with a beautiful sister-in-law, a jewelry maker intent on feeding her kids only the best (see her work at Samsara Creations).  I thought, if I could just do one thing she does for my kids, I'll be set.  And so I bought the book she told me to buy: Ruth Yaron's "Super Baby Food"

Okay folks, this is the book on healthful eating before it was a craze.  Published in 1998, her foresight is mind-blowing.

But I want to highlight p. 214: the beginning of my education with whole grains. I had no idea that a combination of whole grains and dried legumes could provide my children with the perfect protein beginning to their days.

I knew immediately the savings I would have; the nutrition? A huge bonus!

To my children now, this is called "Special Oatmeal." They ask for it! It's hard to believe, but my daughter craves ground beans and rice over instant flakes of nothingness. I crave it, too: it certainly puts a longer pause in between breakfast and snack time. Thankful for Tonya and her gift of nutrition education, and thankful for a platform with which to share it with others.

Happy to Serve

Last weekend, a dear friend drove four hours to run a half marathon with me.

We decided that it was in both of our interests to volunteer instead of run the race.

After twenty years of running, I finally gave back.

What took me so long?

Exhorting almost 1000 runners to do their best on the last mile of 13 was too much fun.  I needed tea, my throat was sore, and we actually felt like we'd run a race afterwards.

Three hours of yelling! WOW.  Deserved every bit of that lunch.

Have you registered for a race and just didn't think it was wise to follow through?  Don't hesitate to stop in to the volunteer booth.  They always need help.  We were put in at the last minute, as sentries at two crucial points, because others didn't come.  Ack!  We were needed!!  So cool.

My friend serves for a living, as head of Alabama Rural Ministry, but being based four hours away we rarely get to serve together.  This enabled us 3 hours of slightly interrupted conversation - and awesome quality time.  Plus, we got to razz the police stationed nearby.  Always a good day.

Try volunteering for that race.  You'll be glad you did!  Nice tan, too...

Status Update

Eh, not so good on the homefront nowadays.

If you look at my fitness activity, anyway.

My brain activity on the other hand: watch out!

Looking back on the week, I think I would classify my behavior more muffin than stealth.

I'm a little down: my daughter has an injury that precludes her running a little kids' race this weekend, and that is affecting me something fierce.  More importantly, it precludes her from walking very well.  That is heart-breaking.

My daughter is the one the Disney escort for Tigger asked to calm down around Tigger!  To not jump, to not run, to sit down, put her feet up - it's anti-life to this girl.

Days Gone By?  Or New Days Ahead?

I remember being like that.  I think I want that spirit again in myself.  Seeing it in her has always been a great boon to my own, but now that she can't be that way until she's healed up, I gotta come up with it myself.

I have so much good going on in my brain I have been content sitting this week.  The sitting part is not good.  It's too easy to get out of a routine.  But I have a different kind of fire under my tush and it is taking a lot to extinguish it.

It's like a mud run going on up there in my head - or warrior dash, one of those: fierce, sweaty, and fun.  My brain hasn't been this active in a long time, and I feel like I should let it go crazy and do what it's going to do.

Meanwhile... the muffin stealthily creeps...

In Which the Goodbye Is the Hello

Not all muffin tops are created equal.

You all know that by now.  There are good fats, and there are bad fats.

In my case, my bad fat was my good fat.

My bad fat encouraged me in a good way to get out there and burn some.
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I've enjoyed this "fun run" of personal training.  While financially I will be pursuing other ventures, vocationally I am recommitting myself to my own exercise and health.

Lest you think, "Oh no, another personal trainer becomes self-absorbed," I remind you to read my previous post.  This was always about sharing the joy of endorphins.  I won't stop that now.

I missed my own endorphins.  My children, as a result, missed the real me.  My husband deserves the real me, too...

So - time to reconnect.  After a month, I have finally found the 'phins.  I run after them three times a week.  They don't disappoint.

Since I've focused on getting it back, my brain has worked better, and faster.  It's all part of my inner treadmill.  Brain's gotta keep up with the feet!

My energy has resurfaced.  My eyes feel brighter.  My God is more apparent.

Thanking Him for this season of health, and for renewed energy to share.  Work is to be done.  I must be healthy to do it.  Hello, health.

In Honor of Halloween, the Story of a Joy Filled Cemetery

I encountered a great deal of opportunity in my schools growing up.  There actually wasn’t a lot of it because they were so small, but because I changed schools so often, it felt like it. 

The trouble came once I moved back to the US.  I moved to an area that routinely produced super children, training from age 4 every season in one sport.  So when I tried out for a team and didn’t make it, I was crushed.  A friend invited me to cross country because there were no tryouts and you could not be cut, but I thought that was lame.  Who wanted to be on a team that never had cuts?

A whole year went by.  And while I played on a city team for another sport in the evenings, it wasn’t nearly as fulfilling as that sport had been at my prior school.  The reason, I figured out, was because they were all playing to be noticed for scholarships, rather than fun.  As competitive as I thought I was, I missed fun.

I also missed a closely knit team.  So I caved to Matt's request: at the start of the next school year I went to cross country practice.   I made a group of close friends, finally.  We ran where and when we were supposed to, but usually took detours through the local cemetery.  The highly motivated part of our team used it for fartlek training, which is how we discovered its existence.  But it was too good to be used only for whistle-blown intervals.

It was a beautiful haven, full of rolling beautifully tended hills and creeks, bridges, weeping willows.  Those trees listened to us Fab Five while we took extended stretching breaks and hotly debated Ayn Rand.  The willows probably weren’t weeping, but laughing as we discussed the meaning of life near those who had discovered it already, and had the hyphen to show it.

So while I had been frustrated with the lack of joy in most sports I personally encountered, I finally found my own.  Running empowered me to feel free, even partly rebellious.  We weren’t the best runners, so we were free from the pressure to excel.  We weren’t there to improve our time on other sports, so we were free from looking good.  

In fact I distinctly remember the coach showing everyone a video of what he termed the Olesen Sprint.  It was the 90s version of What Not to Wear, but he could have called it How Not to Run.  He had recorded me at the end of a race plodding along, and then in a split instant, choosing to haul it the last 200 meters.  He said I obviously saved up too much energy! After the howling laughter finished, I laughed, too: yup, I was indeed totally free from looking good.  All we had to do was enjoy the air and each other.  Our health, our friendships, our schooling all took care of themselves.  I happily left the winning to my Somalian classmate!

And here I am, twice the age I was then, and still running (and some will attest I still employ the Olesen Sprint).  I have had some extended “stretching” breaks, to be sure.  My running career (which I will call it, whether or not you know my name!) grew in its diversity of races, new running buddies, students I got to coach, battle buddies I got to encourage along the way.  If you can run one mile, you can run two.  If you can run two miles, you can run three…

It’s proving to be a lifelong sport.  And for that, I am glad I was freed from thinking only one way about sports, or who I am defined by one or the other.  I am glad for the frustration I felt in high school because it allowed me to blow my prejudices to bits. 

Most importantly, this freedom is not to keep for myself.  This life is not about my identity.  I started SLIMnasium to free others from thinking only one way about exercise.  I now enjoy helping my clients see that when we start to take care of our bodies, the rest falls into place.  We have been told to consider this body a gift, and to honor it for the Lord.  While for me that way has been running, biking, swimming and walking, I love finding what clicks for my clients. 

There is freedom in exercising for a joyful purpose!

(For pictures, see this link https://plus.google.com/117496518254678736263/about?gl=US&hl=en-US)

Oh, Old Navy

I read once that Old Navy jeans are gateway jeans to Mom jeans.

Forget that, man!  They are stinkin straight up Mom jeans!  No gate needed.

Yeah, I wore mine all week.  It was chubby week.  I can't explain it, except to say that I have a race next week, and I'm really nervous, aaaaand whenever I am nervous I have a habit that makes me chubby.

Ever do a PT test?  In the Army?  Without fail, the night before a PT test, I engaged in this habit.  It is so self-defeating.  I know it is, and yet...

Ever run the Army Ten Miler?  Oh my.  You'll never guess it, but the nights before that race, I always did this, too.  Except for the one year I stayed at Erin's uncle's house, where there was absolutely NO access to cookies.  Ugh that year was awful.  They are such a disciplined family!  Love them though.

Yup.  Cookies and Mom jeans.

Going to start fresh tomorrow morning, with a run on the track.  Sayonara, Old Navy!  Hello, Miss Me.

The Calf Stalker

            I am not sure what kind of appetite you have right now, but if it’s huge, turn this off and read it another time.  I don’t want to be the cause of its demise.

            I stalk people’s calves.

            It’s a horrid, horrid habit.  I wish I didn’t have it.  But luckily, I only have it during triathlons.  And even more luckily, I only do triathlons 3 times a decade. 

            This latest one was tremendous.  I am going to have to say *SPOILER ALERT*I finished it, and I didn’t break.  But actually, finishing a triathlon where only the last quarter of a mile of the three was in the sun was a great feeling.  Breezy, shading trees by the lake for the first 15/16ths of the run portion!?  Yes please. 

Add in a guy running in crutches with only one leg, and you could even call that last bit inspirational.

            I truly felt a breath of fresh life.

            A race can do that.  I don’t care if you’ve never done one or are afraid of not placing well.  I think everyone deserves a spot out of their comfort zone to zizz up their lives a little.  You truly deserve to do a race.

            There are benefits.  On this race, I made a lot of friends.  It’s true, mostly all we said was, “Passing on the left,” and, “Good job, keep it up,” but in that respect, the friendships I made were simple and uncomplicated.  There’s no threat of any one of them being offended by my stance on guns or babies, for example.  Ahhh, breath of fresh air. 

Breathe, America.  Simplicity is running forward.  Biking forward.  Swimming forward.

            So yes, back to the calves, and me, their stalker.  Everyone has a Sharpie date at the start of a triathlon.  Someone with a Sharpie writes your race number on your shoulder and your lower leg, and your age on the other leg.  I have several theories as to why this is, but only one of them is suitable for printing: it’s to make me go faster.  Not because these numbers are on ME , but because everyone else is advertising now what AGE group they fall under. 

            And I stalk their calves to see if I should pass them or not.  Straining forward in the bike seat, or leaning forward on the run, I must see: are they worth sprinting past?

            Now in some cases, the answer is no.  I mean someone could be in my age group and CLEARLY have me outclassed in either bike status (cost in the thousands? Forget it, you go ‘head!) or body fat. 

            Contrary to how crass this sounds, I am NOT REALLY judging people during a race.  Because I KNOW for a fact that less body fat means that person’s body is more efficient, and so, they most likely will “smoke” me.  Regardless, I am encouraged again… to eat more carrots instead of muffins (MUFFINS! STEALTH ONES!) so that I can BECOME… faster and stronger.

I suppose this would be a good time to mention The Vegetarian Viking.  I am telling you.  There is always one Intimidator in the race.  By this one, I was so scared: had the height, not the bulk, just MADE OF SHEER MUSCLE.  I felt like I should fashion one of those aforementioned carrots into a hammer, like Thor’s, and carry it as defense along the ride.  Bad choice – no carrots around – but I was still scared.  I resolved two things: 1) Avoid the Viking.  2) Become the Viking. 

            To satisfy your belief that I CAN be superficial, though, I will toss you one thought.  I did get really upset when I saw someone passing me in the outfit I had wanted to purchase.  The material is silky smooth, thick enough to be flattering, and some combination of blue and purple.  This is how it went, in my head.

            “Hey, she’s passing me.  HEY!  SHE HAS ON MY OUTFIT!!!!!!!!!!  GRRR, MUST PASS.”

For these and other reasons, my competitive edge, lately happily softened out by beautiful cozy cuddling children, was sparked anew.  I can thank people’s calves for that.  The stalking never stopped, the whole hour and 15 minutes.  I was constantly evaluating what place I’d be in.  I even printed out this year’s age group results, for what I call Frameable Motivation.  I’m taking a poll: should it go on the fridge or bathroom mirror?

I am certain no one was afraid of me this year.  I came out of that lake a hot mess.  I wiped my face and my hands turned brown.  I fancied calling myself the LakeMess Monster while I biked those 9 miles through town.  I am pretty sure the guys with the six-pack trying to cross the road that Saturday morning (WHAT?!  – it’s NOT beer thirty!) weren’t smiling but laughing at me as I yelled, “Good morning!” but who cares.  At least my teeth looked whiter: swimming in a lake saves you $269 of Zoom treatments!  Who knew!

Looking back, at least the water was nice and warm… in 80 degree air.  And at least on the top two inches the water was clear… yellow.   And I couldn’t see much below me but I did hope I would have the energy to wave at the rescue boat if I should succumb to my panic…. From leaches?  Snakes?  WHAT is scraping me (another swimmer trying to get by, phew!)?!  Ewww, what did I just SCRAPE (someone’s unshaven legs, oh thank heaven I shaved this morning)!?!?

            Yeah, the swim sucked.  The bike was okay – far fewer people passed me than on my last triathlon (primarily because I had the right kind of bike this time AND I trained on it more).  The run was glorious because it was the end.  Many mentioned that it felt like time had slowed down on those last three miles, but my goal was to finish, and I did, and so I can’t complain.

            Not even about the Vikings and leaches and snakes, oh my! 

                                             Flexing my calves for YOUR benefit,
                                                                                #139, Age 36

Silver Spin

One of the classes I took recently would have been fun to do with my mom.

The music was from the 50s.

But it was a spin class.

I loved it!

It was only 30 minutes – TOTALLY doable, and yet still difficult.  The atmosphere was TOTALLY different from the intense techo scene with grunting giants clenching their teeth and flicking their forehead sweat on your handlebars, outclassing your ability to up resistance and keep up with the robo-machine instructor who’s YELLING at you to CLIMB, gosh darn it, CLIMB!!! - -

Oh, can you tell I have NOT enjoyed spin classes in the past?

In fact it is hard to meet someone who does.  During my intakes, I ask what my clients enjoy and what they do not.  Quite a few have tried a spin class and nearly all say – and I paraphrase liberally here - “It’s for the birds.”

Now, to avoid coloring their view, I keep quiet and just take note that their plans will NOT involve spin, but inside I am thinking, “For real.  That scene needs a makeover.” 

Well, at least for some people.  I know it is very popular… in California.  I appreciate that.  I appreciate them, out there.  Out there.

I also know I have NEVER, not once, had the urge to become a spin instructor. 

Still, I had to stop and think…. If it were me, teaching, would I have reworked it to include 50s music?

 I honestly don’t know that that idea would have popped into my head; however, I will tell you that it was the oddest feeling: while I was biking, I felt like I had on a poodle skirt headed for the ice cream parlour (yes, with a “u”!). 

It was a blast!  YES!  To the ice cream parlour we go!  Why did I not blend exercise with ice cream earlier?  Wait, don’t answer that.

Totally going back to this class.  And for the record, it USED to be called Silver Spin, because it was a modified spin class for the older crowd. 

Now they just call it Spin 101.  Which I could do, because attending made me feel smart… rather than halfway to 72. 

Always a bonus.

Assisted Pull Ups

I know. I should never title a blog after an exercise.  How dull can you get?

But I would be lying to you if I didn't publicly LOVE (and therefore bestow honor in a title) these things.  If I could die doing assisted pull ups, or even ON an assisted pull up machine, I would.  No joke (but for the record, my tombstone needs to say, "She ate the raw cookie dough," no reference to pull ups necessary).

They simply melt the flab away.

A couple of years ago, the Army was trying to decide whether it would change its physical fitness test and rework its graded exercises.  The pull up was one of the exercises it was weighing to include.  I was DEVASTATED they decided to nix the exercise as a measure of fitness for women.

1- If they had included it, women would do pull ups; after all, in the Army, as in education, you train to the test.  If they had included it, women would be doing a whole lot more pull ups.  There would like INSTANTLY be less obesity but also INSTANTLY more confidence.

I mean, have you SEEN the movie G.I. Jane?  They should have not only kept the pull up, but also the sit-ups-while-hanging-off-the-top-of-a-bunk-bed.  What would it have fixed?  Only most women's two pressing issues: arms and abs!  (And now you see why I was not asked to join that commission).

For real, Army!  Do you WANT them to be all they can be or not?!  Because the last time I checked my Organizational Leadership books, happy employees make good fighters/gunners/drivers/doctors/mechanics/instructors/leaders.

And there is no lie: pull ups will make you a happy woman.

2- If they had included the pull up, there'd be a whole lot more outreach and a lot less bad blood among women in the military.

That's a HUGE generalization, wow.  What am I talking about?

I am talking about Airborne school.  We had to attempt pull ups to even go eat anything.  The guys would knock them out no problem, but the women had to have assistance.  I am not knocking anything, I am just saying that is how it was.  And whence came that assistance?  Other women.  We had to help each other out.  It was really cool, the camaraderie that developed.  I didn't see it again in my career.  Instead I had some intense experiences (which, I will own up to, MIGHT have been spurred by my task-oriented personality) that only dissipated by the grace of God and the normal Army cycle of transfers.
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PULL UPS.  GO DO THEM.  Find a monkey bar on a playground and gently use the step ladder for support... 2 to 3 times a week, as many as you can, in 2 to 3 sets.  Watch those shoulders and back get defined.  Don't worry - you won't get big!  God did not design our bodies to pop (though some magazines and drug companies will have you believe it) :)

It just feels good to put on a normal shirt and have some give in the sleeves, you know?

Clip your flappy wings!  Pull ups will do that for you.

I will keep on using the machine at the gym and my over the door pull up bar.  If I'm lucky, when I'm 88, that's still where I'll be.

Maybe by then without assistance.

Singing the Praises... In Greek

I believe whole-heartedly in the Mark passage that addresses that what is most important to God is what comes out of the heart, not what goes in to the mouth.

A registered dietician may disagree; I will err on the side of God’s word.

That being said, I still have to give a shout out to the wisdom God gave to some scientist on the Yoplait payroll.  Blessed be Yoplait’s Greek frozen yogurt (with strawberry swirl).  Oh my goodness.

My husband recently said I am the only one he knows who can drop weight while traveling and eating at restaurants and fast food places for two of three meals every day for a week.  Well let me tell you, traveling was no cupcake.  But it sure had some icing on it!  Woohoo, let's PCS again!  

We figured it out, though: while traveling, I didn’t have access to my freezer, and therefore did not have access to the ice cream that had somehow started to, once again, sneak its way back in to my appliance.

Was it really that simple?

And so when I encountered this dessert, and forked over the money for the novelty, I almost leaped with joy.  I might be able to permanently terminate at least 2 cm worth of my muffin if I eat this stuff.  Seriously awesome.  Compare the nutrition facts and it is great news.

Even better, it is truly truly frozen.  I mean, it is so frozen that I lose heart trying to scoop it out after six failed attempted scoopings.  I even have one of those fancy Pampered Chef scoopers, and it doesn’t work well in this tundra-ted dessert.

So the fact that I will be eating LESS of this frozen treat than what I normally eat of ice cream will keep the 2 cm of muffin off my top.

I KNOW God cares more about what comes out of my heart than what goes into my mouth.

But I have to pass along this amazing discovery.  Frozen Greek yogurt?  Glory be.

Goldilocks

This weather is too cold.

This weather is too hot.

This weather is too dry.

This weather is too wet.

I have caught myself at any one time saying one or two of those.  To be a personal trainer means I enjoy exercising but it doesn't mean I enjoy exercising in all weather scenarios.  At one point, I will admit, it gave me great joy to be seen in a rainstorm running.  I figured it would add to my portfolio submitted to become the first female Ranger.  Plus, they didn't have Tough Mudders back then so I had to create my own rah-rah Rambo scene.  But I am no longer that weirdo (arguable? Perhaps). 

Nope, I have become a fair weather runner.

Here enter Goldilocks.

I saved up during my deployments for lots of things, but one of them was a treadmill.  I couldn't ever bring myself to spend the money, so a year after my husband and I married, he spent it for me, on its rightful designation.  What a guy.

My treadmill gives me great joy.  She has saved me from running inertia (an object at fair-weather rest will remain at rest)  many a time.  And because she exists because of my pickiness, her name is Goldilocks.  I missed her for a couple of weeks during these weeks of transition, but she is back "up and running," and I even had my inaugural run on her this morning.  Felt so good!!!!

With Goldilocks, the weather is not too cold, not too hot.

With Goldilocks, the weather is not too dry, not too wet.

With Goldilocks, the weather is always JUST right.

A Rolling Muffin Gathers No Mass

I woke up this morning and my husband asked, "Hey, where did your muffin top go?"

Those are the most beautiful words to wake up to, next to, "Here's your coffee," and "Snow day."

I think it's because of a lot of reasons, not the least of which is that I am behaving like I KNOW that I am what I eat.

No really, I am what I eat.

No really, yesterday I ate a "Personal Trainer" at Moe's.  It was AMAZING. 

I can tell you, I have stayed away from vegetarian restaurant items for a long time.  There is nothing about the word vegetarian that is appetizing to me.  Nor would I pay $7.99 for beans.  If I'm paying $7.99, I'm not paying for beans.  If I'm paying for $7.99, I'm getting something that took a lot of work to process :) But wow.  It was a welcome respite for sure.

My body has responded accordingly to other recent food choices.

Yes, exercise is important - but you must know, 80% of how you look is what you eat.  I'll leave it at that.  I think my personal training organization would disown me if I said much more.

I'm glad I ate a Personal Trainer.

HA!  I have to tell you I giggled the whole time, too.  Cheesy, eh?

Keep moving!

Extroverted?

I just wrote about the fun feeling of walking in to a hotel fitness room after waking up.  I do brush my teeth, but really, what does that count when I look the way I do?  Colgate can't fix this mug.

But I do love that feeling of rebellion.

In my view, and I sometimes feel like I am in the minority on this, the sweatier the better.  I mean, let it waterfall over my forehead and down my neck.  I gotta know I have EARNED that shower.

Here's another time I feel like I am the female version of Jack Bauer: walking into an-all male workout room - as a woman.

There are no such things as all-male workout rooms.  What am I talking about, right?  Wrong.  The all-male workout room is where there are free weights.  It's hilarious.  I mean, I hope that the Crossfit phenomenon is helping to change that - and that I have given some clients the know-how and confidence to bust up my stereotype - but thinking and believing in equality is one thing - seeing it happen in real life is another. 

Just like Idleman wrote in Not a Fan (can you tell I am loving this book?): thinking something and doing something in real life are two quite different things.

So, like I was saying, a friend and I recently walked into the free weight room.  The all-male dominion.  Don't think we weren't noticed because it's perfectly natural for a woman to want to work out there.  It's not.  You won't believe the following story if you think men and women are equal.  A Michelin man actually walked up to us once we finished some lifting and added weight to our barbell. "It's a weight room, not a bar room," he said.   He definitely was not accustomed to women working out near him.  How dare he! 

How dare WE, as we didn't sock him one.  Or subtly correct him, depending on which side of feminism you reside.

Regardless, I am STILL laughing about that. Hopefully, my friend gets to bust up in there again.  My plan is that she re-enters the all-male bubble armed in bright pink workout gloves with embroidered hearts and gems all over the place.

SO GREAT.  My own special blend of rebellion and residual feminism.

But hold on!  This blog is about stealthfully getting back in shape. What is this talk?

Well, I thrive on this stuff.  My blend of rebellion and a teensy bit of feminism is actually the result of latent spurts of extroversion: they pop up at the strangest times.  But I have to admit I do thrive on exercising outdoors because other people see me.  There doesn't need to be just one source of motivation; there is something to be said for getting motivation from lots of different ones.

But I do get energy from exercising where people will see me.  That's just the truth.  The rules of the game are tough:

1) Run faster than the person on the treadmill next to you so they poop out first.  It can be in intervals that you run faster, but make sure there are a lot of intervals, so that at any one snapshot, you are running "circles" next to the other.
2) Always run faster when a car is passing.  Try to outrun it if it is traveling in the same direction.
3) Make sure you are on a road with a lot of traffic (well heck, that's a safety thing too).
4) Definitely pass any Army Rangers ahead of you (that is THE BEST feeling, and who cares if they are on mile 20 and that is why you were able to pass them.  Pass them.  It's their problem if they have to go to counseling for getting passed by a girl).

I have to have this source of motivation once in a while.  It fuels me for days, so it's not always necessary.  I know I don't have a complex because I am not alone.  A buddy of mine used to lunge across the 200 meter quad at Fort Benning to keep motivated.  There, he knew at any one time, 50 people were watching - so he couldn't stop.  Excellent idea!!

To add my extroversion to a need to be suburbanly rebellious is just fun. 

So yeah, go to a gym without makeup on.  Go to an all-male workout room with bright pink workout gloves (heck, and fluorescent blue workout clothes, just so you stand out, and especially if you don't like pink, because, you know, you don't have to like pink if you are a girl but you could rebelliously perpetuate that stereotype while you are at it).

Regardless, keep moving!

In-Flux... er... Capacity

I am stealth, but not obsessively so.

In this venture to displace the muffin from its belly-wide domination, I am open to all techniques. 

That being said, I think I did admit I am prone to some extroverted exercise.  At times.

So let me tell you about my new digs.

I don’t have my studio set up yet.  My treadmill did have some damage in the move.  It needs a total rework in the space saver prop area.  Right now it is totally NOT saving space, just wasting it, as I can’t even use the thing.  It’s stuck in the up position.  Yes, it’s stuck up.  You would be too if you were as cool as my treadmill….

So I have ventured outside, despite the fact that rain is pretty much a thrice-a-day occurrence (and it's COLD! This is a huge deal for me.  I do not do cold).  And we happen to live near a well-trafficked road. 

This road is an 8.5 on the Extrovert scale.  In other words, if you get your energy from exercising around people, you are only 1.5 points away from perfection.  Why 1.5 points off from 10?  Well, this is not Los Angeles highway, where millions of people are stuck going 5 mph at all times of the day, and it’s not a college campus, where there is constant milling.  Those were the two detractors, and I think those two situations put any running route as a perfect extrovert's 10.  Here, the speed limit is pretty much the rate at which people drive on the road, if not faster.  So the speed is not slow enough to get a glance at the runner’s face.  However, there is enough traffic that a well-self-possessed extrovert could imagine that as people pass by, they are saying, “Man, she’s fast!”  It happens.

But hold tight: I am now going to RATE this route BASED on its STEALTH CAPACITY (don’t tell me, based on my terminology, that I watched too much Back to the Future and/or Star Wars: I am a child of the 80s and there is no such thing). 

The stealth CAPACITY of my most recent new running route IS a 10.

Holy smokes, girl!  A ten!?  Yes, a ten.

It’s not just my kickin shades that hide my eyes and cheekbones and make me look like a partner-less, informally dressed federal agent, which I could be but I would never tell you.   This route is a ten because I’m a new girl and I don’t know a soul here yet.  It’s awesome.  It’s just capacity, because if I continued down this trajectory of not knowing anyone, it could be maintained.  But like any capacity, there is room to make it, and room to let it go.  I'd prefer to let it go :)

Anyway, stealth.  Awesome run.  It’s not a rating of 10, mind you, because once I meet people, they’re going to be like, “Oh, it’s Wendy again, thinking she’s fast, trying to burn her muffin off,” and then it’s off to find another route for me.

Or maybe, I’ll fool all the psychologists, and continue to toe the line between “E” and “I” and just be stealthfully extroverted when I run this route. 

I know, I know.  You have to go on a run to figure out what I just said.  Go for it!

In Transit

I have had about 1300 miles to think about what to do while in transit from my last home to my new one.  This is a fresh start.  This is a new life.  This is why I love moving.

First off, all exercise equipment will be in one place.  This one place is going to be so rad.  It will be a place to which I enjoy retreating.  I might even stack up fresh white (scented?) towels and install my own water cooler in there.  For real. Yes. 

Secondly, I will start waking up earlier.  This would have been easier if I had moved west instead of east (judging by my normal time, it would have helped to move WAY west, like Thailand, but that's not possible yet).  It just must be done.  There are too many demands on my time to have it any other way. 

I also have to start taking responsibility for this action, this waking up early business.  It sounds strange, but since I've gotten married I have started to depend on my husband for a lot.  It's almost like I lived another life before we got together.  In any case, I actually got angry he didn't wake me up the other day.  After he apologized (he is amazing, yes), I realized I have gone wacko. 

But hey, this is all about being honest.

That's why they make annoying alarm clocks, gentle alarm clocks, big alarm clocks, small alarm clocks.... because no matter which way I need it, I need to set one.  Me.

But after all these thoughts, there must be action.  Do I believe exercise is important?  Well, yes.  Does my life reflect that?

As I was reading in Not a Fan by Kyle Idleman yesterday (p.106), Idleman quotes James of the Bible: "Faith by itself, if not accompanied by action, is dead."  Idleman expounds the statement, "When I was studying about the word 'belief' I came across a secular article written by a psychiatrist.  In the article he addressed the beliefs of his patients that had no basis in reality.  A patient may sincerely believe he could fly - but that didn't mean anything because there was nothing to back that up.  The patient might be an abusive husband that sincerely believes abuse is wrong - but he doesn't really believe that because his stated belief is contradicted by reality.  But when the psychiatrist was speaking about his patients with beliefs that had no basis in reality he didn't call them 'beliefs.'  Do you know what he called them?  He called them 'delusions.'  We don't think of it this way, but here's an important truth that needs some attention in circles of faith: A belief, no matter how sincere, if not reflected in reality isn't a belief; it's a delusion."

Holy smokes.

How can I have evidence of my beliefs in real life?  I don't want to be delusional (especially in God's eyes)!  I can study and talk all day long, but if I am not like Jesus to people, what am I?  Delusional.

So I'll bring it around to exercise: must do what it takes.  I don't want to be a delusional exerciser.  I don't want to be a delusional personal trainer for that matter. 

Studying about exercising, knowing about exercising, and helping others exercise does not count as exercising.  For a while, it had to (bearing a child is really, really important!).  Now it doesn't have to. 

If you read the first post, I described how one evening the switch just TURNED ON again.  But I can't depend on feelings forever to get me out the door.  So today's experience was different.  It was a deliberate waking up early (courtesy of some discipline) - and it still felt good once I got there.  I mean, I love the feeling of going into a hotel workout room with my bedhead and - worse - bed face.  It's a posh place.  I am not posh.  YESSSS.  A small little rebellion.  My own.

[For more about rebellion, read again in a couple of days.]

Exercising for real is great.  I mean, just great.  The good stuff is flowing, my outlook on life is sunny, and - at least for today - I cannot be called delusional.

Get moving!

Freedom

Roger Barrister, the runner featured on Chariots of Fire, is famous for his speed but also for saying, "I feel the Lord's pleasure when I run."

I love that line (I also love the music, and the movie.  It never gets old)!

I feel that, and I also feel the Lord's purpose.  When I run.

Who knows why God programmed our bodies to attain that high.  Was it to sustain us when we were hunting and gathering (yes, I would have been running to catch those ears of corn!)?

I don't know.  I just know sometimes I gotta run with my palms facing upward.  Sometimes my arms stretch out, too, and before I know it I am the crazy woman dancing and running at the same time.  In public. 

Somehow, last year, I forgot about this feeling.  It's good to be reconnected.  It is so freeing.  Our muscles and bones enjoy moving.  But the longer we get away from activity, I believe, the easier it is not to move them. 

I look forward to running now because it is one of the only times I get to listen to my music.  I am not complaining: it is just where our house is right now.  We listen to kids' songs a lot, or none at all if my daughter is doing math, or I just plain don't make time to put music on. 

It's great to get out there and reconnect with the music that makes me tick.  I think running to music is fun. Not always important, like don't DON'T run because you don't have the right music.  But definitely a plus.  I'll share with you my fave songs:

The Way by Jeremy Camp
Your Great Name by Natalie Grant
Revelation Song by Philips, Craig, & Dean
Opening Title (from HBO miniseries John Adams) by Rob Lane
Our God's Alive by Andy Cherry
White Flag (featuring Chris Tomlin) from Passion
Forever Reign (Radio Edit) by One Sonic Society

And after worshipping God for seven straight high energy songs, and feeling your legs correspondingly speed up, you will eventually need to cool down.  For this purpose, the following song rocks.  I think it does well to dovetail with the 10,000 steps I've just taken.... Also good to use when doing Praise Moves (Google it: it's an awesome alternative to yoga).

10,000 Reasons (Bless the Lord) by Matt Redman

If you get into longer distances, the 100 songs or so you have on your iPod will sustain you well.  But thanks to technology, you can expand your repertoire with books now too.

Did you see the 2012 Summer Olympics commercial with endurance runner Ryan Hall listening to Moby Dick on his runs?  I think that is ingenious.  So I recently joined Audible.com and downloaded some books.  The free ones, of course, just until I figure out if I enjoy listening to books.  I am convinced it will work, though.  I can't put a book down!  So how will I stop running if the book is playing on my iPod?  I won't want to put my legs down! :)

It's gorgeous outside.  Gotta run.  Thanking God for everything, just everything.

Macro-Economics

It was payday this week.
On a military post, that means stay out of the grocery store.
It means stay out of the gas station too.
But - - what does it mean for you and exercise?  You've got some extra cash!  You ready to lay it on the table for something new?

There are so many options out there.  Exercise and weight loss plans and pills and liquids galore.

I cannot count any more the combinations of letters and numbers.  It makes me dizzy.  I applaud the developers of these exercise/lose weight plans because of two reasons.  First, they usually have a Z or an X in their name to make things associate with easy or extreme, which ironically both appeal to the masses.  And second, because they are a PLAN, which also appeals WIDELY (excuse the pun). 

It's overwhelming to me (but don't think I won't take a page from their book if I ever develop one).

I also believe they should be thoroughly researched before they are attempted.

Allow me to repeat: thoroughly research before you attempt.

My other guideline is to ensure you do not become dependent on them.  Use them, yes.  Depend on them, no. 

Use them for a kickstart, for a barometer, to shake up a routine.

Do not become dependent on any of them.  Don't start to believe that you have to have a marketed plan in order to start.  Not necessary.  You do not have to have a marketed plan so that you have something to say in public!   A plan helps keep you accountable, it helps to document what works, but that may not necessarily be in a pre-made one.

I am all for free exercise.  For my clients, I always ask what they ENJOY.  Don't put yourself in a box, whether it be someone else's well-marketed plan or someone's well-marketed machine.  What do you enjoy?  There are probably LOTS of things you enjoy.  Write them down!  They become part of YOUR PLAN (and if you enjoy pre-marketed workout plans, go for it).

Then you can name your plan :)  I have lots of fun with that!

Just make sure it's got an X or Z in it.

And Happy Pay Week.