This journal is now closed and I won't be posting to it further. I'm keeping it active on the website because it isn't like I'm purging movement from my life, just taking a more appropriate view of it for where my life actually is now. Comment sections will remain open :)
I have been meaning to deal with this sub-blog for quite some time. I just haven't had the gumption as it relates to a lot of the struggles that I've had in the past few years. Struggles with wellness, being and identity. Struggles with letting go of something that you have been for so long. Something worn and no longer useful for any positive purpose in your inner being. Something familiar and one of the only things you ever considered yourself somewhat good at...
IDENTITY. We all have it. From the time I was 13 years old I have identified myself as being a person who “works out”. A weight banger, runner, fitness minded individual. I remember the very day that I birthed this identity. We had gone to a nearby town that we normally traveled to every couple of weeks to buy groceries. We had no real grocery store in the small town where I grew up but there was a larger town about 30 minutes away, just over the Maryland state border that had a Foodland, a movie theatre and even a Pizza Hut! They had bookstores, a library, a Hecks store (pre-curser to Kmart, Walmart and the like). I would always go with my mom because it was a treat to get the hell out of my tiny little existence and be where there was stuff going on.
I found a book one trip called “Thin Thighs in 30 Days” and I bought it with my allowance. I had been asking my mom about dieting because my body was changing and I didn’t like the result. I had these boobs that kept getting bigger, my prior mostly boy-like figure was starting to curve out and I was determined to stop these changes. She had given me the lowdown on calorie counting (mom was a lifelong dieter), and I took all this information, ripped out all the diet and exercise articles in the magazines she got on a monthly basis and read that book from cover to cover when we got home.
That book spurred me to more books. The beginning of my relationship with weights was sparked by a book called Flex Appeal written by then Ms. Olympia Rachel McLish. I did all the exercises in it as directed. The diet I made up myself. Knowing about calories and weight and having a bit of success, I became really good at not eating, but I always “kept my head” about me. Despite dipping to about 105 pounds at one point in my young life I feel like I only flirted with anorexia. Maybe my genetic makeup as a banner underachiever saved me?
All in all, from around 1980 to 2013, the only span of time I had been without “training” as a part of my life was the first semester of my freshman year in college. I wouldn’t even call it a semester – maybe ½ of it, so not a long stretch. I did gain a good deal of weight during that time. Combination of beer and being introduced to fast food no doubt LOL. So, I quickly got back to my regime of work, restriction and minimal reward. My workout methods have varied over the decades but there was always structure, I always had goals and they were always based on more or less – more muscle, less fat, less boobs, more butt, less cellulite, more bicep definition, less scale weight…on and on…
Why does any of this matter and why have I chosen to address this blog and/or put off doing so even as I desire to address it? I don’t know. I guess it doesn’t really in the whole scheme of the world. It matters to me and I’m purging. Not of food but of identity. My identity. The identity that has driven me for over 30 years. Repeat. Over.30.Years.
I am looking back on this blog and portions of the main blog on this page of my website and the last three years have been a continual struggle of denial and bargaining, of disgust (for myself and the identity) and fear of loss, of fighting and attempts at acceptance, or change, or…something:
ENTRY FROM JANUARY '13
ENTRY FROM NOVEMBER '13
ENTRY FROM FEBRUARY '15
My last post in this journal was in February. Since then not much has changed. I average about 3 to 4 grudging “workout” sessions per week. Rarely enjoying them, mostly trying to figure out how I can make the most of 20 minutes, since my attention span now really caps out there. Then being disgusted with myself because you can’t really even call that training now can you? It is more of a filler type thing on a day when you are legitimately too busy to actually train…loser. And so it goes. All this doesn’t exactly make me feel better about myself or my identity so while some movement is better than none, I’m not sure the overall benefits (including mental) are worth it.
Even typing about it makes me feel bad inside. So, why?
Because I have to let go. Walk away. Say goodbye to this person that I have been for over 30 years and allow the person I will be for the next 30 to emerge. I have to thank her (because there were some good things that she taught me). She did give me order and the ability to commit to something that overall (whether I went too far with it at times or not) was good for me. She made my body stronger than it would have been had I been completely sedentary, training for all those years has been good for my heart and lungs, she did make me aware of better food choices than drive-thru options and those choices have stuck. I met good friends because of her.
I thank that identity for all these things and now I am letting her go. I’m letting go of expectations, guilt, of trying to be something I am not, judging myself against photoshop and deeming myself less of a person because I’m not without cellulite or that my boobs are just as big as they always were or that my stomach isn’t flat. I’m letting go of the daily checklist that always results in – uggghhhhh you are gross. Letting go of the planning as to when/how in the world I’m going to fit a workout into an already full day when it isn’t a priority stemming from love but a priority stemming from self loathing or the continual race against it. The hiding from it.
Just as I can remember the birthing of her I can remember clearly the moment that we stepped into the wilds of my soul together and I tentatively said….I think we need to talk. It was last weekend on my normal Sunday morning run on the trail, which I do not because I enjoy running but mostly because I enjoy sweating before I do yoga (again, my priorities get mixed up with her). It was beautiful and wet and there were earth smells and fog and I was running and clocking my time (20 minutes remember? MUST do AT LEAST 20 minutes) and my left knee started to hurt a little (which it does sometimes after 30+ years of running, high impact workouts, squats, etc.) and I was pissed. Pissed at my knee, pissed that I was getting old, pissed that I hadn’t yet hit 20 minutes, just pissed in general and I really just wanted to walk but that would mean that the entire run was pointless because it was cool out and I wasn’t even sweating yet and…
Very clearly something said. Stop. Stop running and walk. Listen. I never do this. I never ever ever don’t finish a workout. But, I did on that day. For whatever reason I did and while I walked I thought a lot about how I was in the middle of everything that I love (the woods, nature, fog, the sounds of squirrels, birds and deer, dogs barked in the distance, a rooster was crowing) and I heard and saw none of it until I just stopped running. When I was young I used to walk in the woods for hours on end, actually trying really hard to get lost and meet the Fae. Only my dog always knew the way home LOL… When did my dreamy meanderings become secondary to “getting an appropriate workout in” anyway?
I’m tired. Worn out with her expectations and constant badgering. Her nudges and slights and the way she looks at me. I feel like when I stopped and walked I was walking away. I feared looking back because like in some movie she might attach herself to me again and tell me I’d better run because my heartrate was slowing down and before long the whole morning would be pointless… These are the kinds of things she says to me and I don’t want to hear them anymore. I want to run because I feel like running. I want to lift because I feel like feeling strong. I want to have my mind free from her. I want to be honest with myself and I cannot do it with her living inside me.
I came home. I shut the door. I locked it. Please leave me alone. I know she will knock. But, I am too weary with her to answer.
Until this past September when I just STOPPED. Yup, I did what I said I would never do and I just quit working out. Period. I didn't mean for it to happen. It went like this: I was getting ready to go to Alaska in early September. It is not impossible to work out while traveling but this trip was about Alaska for godsake! So, I had myself a break. When I returned life went all sideways. I bought a house. I moved everything that I owned out of somewhere I had lived for over 15 years, left the life that I have known and built and... It was overwhelming. I told myself I needed some time. The weeks crept on. I was busy with work and unpacking and trying to piece my existence back together. The weeks turned into months. I made some half hearted attempts to "re-start" my workout engine. They'd last a few days. One even lasted almost a whole week!
The "holidays" approached. I really didn't care. The "holidays" came and went. I made two more half-hearted attempts to reconcile with my "active lifestyle" and twice more, it didn't stick. Winter REALLY set in. I scowled and trudged on but still, not one bit of interest in working out.
So here I am in mid-February. It has been 5 1/2 months since I have had any type of physical regimen in my daily life. This kind of hiatus has not occurred since I was a freshman in college. That lasted one semester so we are on a roll here people...
Not feeling very optimistic about jumping back on the exercise wagon I did the only thing I know how to do.
I jumped back on it anyway.
I mean, really? What the hell? The only thing that could happen is that it won't stick again and if that does happen I'll at least have made an attempt. If it does stick, well, all the better!
I'm really sore. LOL. And being really sore does not dissuade me. I've never minded being sore from exercise and I actually can get quite addicted to it. But, dang, doesn't take long for everything to believe it will never be required to work again does it?
Just plugging along here in where motion is an expression of gratitude. Since spring has FINALLY arrived I have taken a little more to outdoor work, readying the yard by raking, picking up sticks and fallen limbs, prepping flower beds and the herb garden. On the best days this is sweaty work with lots of lifting, pushing and pulling!
I have had a couple of outdoor runs (glorious to feel the sun on my back again!) and have been doing a modified lifting schedule that includes both weighted work and body weight exercises.
Summer is just around the corner! Lots of good, hard work and sweating to look forward to!
A young person said to me the other day - I told so and so that you work out like crazy. I said - I'm not sure I qualify for that description anymore. LOL. It is true that for many years of my life I worked out every day (or at least six days a week) for at least an hour per session, sometimes longer. Some days I would lift weights AND running and evening style. Training was important to me and like so many other people who develop a taste for it MORE became habit and I was always searching for it.
Over the past few years I have very slowly started to cut back on my training, partially due to other interests and also due to my increasing overall dissatisfaction of being involved in the health and fitness community (because it is a bunch of marketing, body shaming hooey LOL). I find myself now doing mostly quick workouts, maybe four days a week and then just doing other things like horse stuff, yoga, working outside...
This winter has been particularly hard for the training mindset because it has been long, cold and filled with tons (literally) of snow. For the past month or so my workout sessions have consisted of 20 minutes or so of lifting three or four times per week, a day of running indoors and simply maintaining some semblance of sanity (and muscle tone).
I am not sure what spring will bring but I welcome the lack of white stuff floating through the air. :)
I have been taking a break from formal, daily exercise while running around horse searching and decided to continue that break through this week. Sometimes the motion that is needed is the motion of real rest and I am enjoying it.
Being no fan of long, drawn out workouts I have always been the type of girl that gets in, gets it done and moves on. In the past year or so I have taken an even more serious approach to this habit as I found my love for training dwindle even further away than I ever expected.
"Love" is not the word for how I feel about scheduled training in case anyone forgets. I liken exercise to brushing your teeth. You don't brush your teeth because you love brushing your teeth. You brush them because they feel good afterwards and because you don't want them to rot. That is exactly how I feel about formal exercise.
So it should come as no surprise that I have found ways to make the most out of the stuff I wish to spend the least amount of time on.
My latest victory? Legs in 20 minutes. Seven different exercises, 17 sets total. Ladies, your legs WILL feel this in the morning.
First circuit: Romanian Deadlifts (10), Jump Squats (squat down, explode up, repeat 8-10 times), Leg Curls (8 to 10). Do three sets of this circuit with only minimal rest in between those sets. When picking your weight, your last repetition should be a tough one to do.
Second circuit: Single Leg Deadlifts (10 each), Weighted Duck Walk (squat down and walk like a duck while holding a dumbbell between your legs - it looks funny yes but it works! Do 15 steps forward and 15 steps back), Sissy Squats (10) and Leg Press (10-12). Do two sets of this circuit, again with minimal rest in between and you should be at least mildly grunting to yourself on the last rep.
This took me exactly 20 minutes (not including any warm-up or stretching afterwards). Even with that you'll be on your way in 30!
January has been cold! Except for one freakishly warm day the first week of the month, temps have been typical and even lower around here. We, like many recently, got the big dose of polar freeze and there is another bout to be served up this week I understand. So, I have been craving movement that creates warmth! LOL.
I've also been needing to sweat in order to feel like my body is shedding unnecessary gunk and stress so there has been mostly stuff like hot yoga, indoor running (cause too cold outdoors) and weighted circuits in my movement for the past few weeks.
It is sitting well with me. I'm happy with what I'm doing right now and winter has yet to drag down my mood, something that inevitably seems to happen before January's end.
Want to be confused? LOL. Take a dance class.
Well, it always works for me anyway.
This session of dance we are concentrating solely on the Cha-Cha. I'm happy about it (as happy as I get about dance class) because the last time we took instruction we also learned the Waltz. Yaawwwwnnnnn...
So, last night was our first jump back into dancing after a two year hiatus from lessons and practicing not much at all. OK OK, practicing NOT at all. For me, repetition is key and if I don't repeat I will not remember and therefore I knew I'd basically be starting over.
Also, as TMUPOTP, LOL that spells nothing - I am trying to say that as The Most Uncoordinated Person On The Planet I understand that it will take me longer to learn things, I will have to practice more and I will have to work to not be as frustrated as the Second Most Uncoordinated Person On The Planet (SMUPOTP) LOL that almost spells something. Oh, THAT would be SAM, by the way. So, here we are, Mr. and Mrs. TwoLeftFeet off to dance lessons again.
I was actually pleased with how much I did remember. The instructor moves quite fast but you learn a ton in six weeks. And the best part is that it qualifies as gratitude in motion for me. Moving to music and (after you get better at it) putting your own style into something is extremely joyful.
Plus Sam takes me to dinner and I have a beer before class so I feel more happy to make a fool of myself. Do not think for a moment that the beer is what causes my coordination issues. Even our instructor jokes that he will bring me a spare if Sam doesn't have time for dinner. LOL.
To round out the year in terms of motion I have kept a fairly predictable schedule the last few weeks with a mix of yoga and lifting a few days per week. I even did a little run here and there as weather permitted.
I'm not sure what January will bring. I am getting less and less interested in formal exercise and have nearly cut my honest to goodness lifting sessions down to 30 minutes per session. This is a good thing I think because after that amount of time my mind is just not into it anymore and at this point in my life forcing myself is just going to result in an extreme mental backlash, which will result in me saying screw this completely. LOL.
Same with cardio/running. I am down to 30 minutes max and sometimes only 20. Again, I have reached a point where I have an adverse mental reaction at 30 minutes and three seconds...
I wish I could say that yoga or some other form of exercise has taken the place of these things but I go to class about once per week and maybe do some yoga on my own another day. I know the point is not to be "good" at yoga and that the experience and trying is the important part. But, to be quite honest I am so not flexible that it can be frustrating and I have major balance (and dizziness) issues and always have so there are obstacles to my Zen. LOL.
I will most likely finish out the year doing very little in terms of structured exercise. This week, for instance, I have already trained four times so, meeeehhhhhhhh... I feel like anything more will be a bonus. And to think there was a time when I would have lost my mind at the thought of not getting in six days this week! LOL. I wonder what happened to that person? Hmmmmmmm.... I feel she is tired.
In January we start a round of dance lessons. This should be fun and will ensure me a Tuesday night light meal and some time with Sam and some much needed Cha-Cha practice. So, let's see...that's one day of movement per week now about those other days....
Because the ability to express ourselves and care for ourselves through motion is something we should be grateful for...