Podcast time! I’m trying. Sorry for my babbles. :)
Sorry, I could not read the content fromt this page.
Showing posts with label Maintenance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Maintenance. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Ask Roni: Paper Bag Popcorn, Kids and Healthy Foods, Maintenance vs. Losing, Reverse Body Image Issues, Tummy Tuck Post Baby [video] [podcast]
It’s podcast time! I’m heading to the beach this weekend so I’ll be taking a short hiatus, again, from podcast recording. :(
Topics this week include…
Paper Bag PopcornKids and Healthy Foods AdviceMy approach to maintenance – Maintenance vs. LosingReverse Body Image IssuesTummy Tuck Post BabyMonday, July 11, 2011
Zen and the Art of Bicycle Maintenance
“Like those in the valley behind us, most people stand in sight of the spiritual mountains all their lives and never enter them, being content to listen to others who have been there and thus avoid the hardships.” From Zen and the Art Of Motorcycle Maintenance Biking is a “spiritual mountain” to me, but I’m not content, as the quote above contends, to merely stand in the sight of that mountain. I understand the importance of listening to others who’ve been there to learn how I might avoid some of the hardships. It occurred to me while riding the last leg of the Butler-Freeport Trail alone last week – having ridden six miles more than I planned and being very hungry but having no food with me and still nine miles from my car when I ran over a rock that I thought punctured my tire but didn’t – that perhaps…perhaps…I should learn something about bike maintenance.
Lori (whom many of you know from Finding Radiance) is an avid biker and is my go-to guru with all things biking. I asked her recently what she takes along with her when she rides and how I might go about seeking advice on bicycle maintenance.
“First off, if you are by yourself the one thing you should do is tell someone where you are going – or at least close to the general vicinity. (Note from Lynn: I always text a friend or my daughter when I start and let them know my ETA from the trailhead back to the Jeep. They know if they don’t hear from me within 20 minutes of that ETA to come find me.)
“Cell phone; spare tube; small hand pump (or CO2 cartridge inflaters); tire lifters (small plastic wedges to remove tires); something like hard candy in case I am out too long; water. For long rides, I also include: a bike lock; food; sunscreen; anti-chafing cream; hand sanitizer; chain lube.
I Googled bike shops in my area and found Michael’s Cycles: “Independent shop on the outskirts of town… We are a small, family-run business that treats everyone to courteous service. One of the biggest complaints we hear about bike shops is that if you aren't wearing spandex, you get ignored. Well, not here.” I knew this was a place I wanted to check out, so after a sweaty 2-mile hike in 88-degree heat through horse- and deer-fly infested woods, I went to Michael’s Cycles. A good sweat makes me more confident, and I knew that I needed all the confidence I could muster because whenever I set out to do this kind of thing alone, my FFG (former fat girl) comes along for the ride, keeping me just off balance enough that I feel a nagging sense of self-doubt.
It was just my luck that when I pulled into the parking lot, a young man was putting a bike rack on the top of a male customer’s car. I like men, but their Y chromosome makes me nervous. It’s one of those self-instilled FFG reactions/assumptions I fight all the time: I’ll be judged/stared at/laughed at/ignored.
The customer was sweaty, like he'd just been on a ride. He was about my age and, of course, nice looking. But I bucked up and walked across the lot. ‘I am responsible for how I allow myself to be treated,’ I told myself. ‘You are a woman who bikes, not a woman with baggage.’
As I approached them, the young man looked down from the bike rack and smiled. “Hi! What can I help you with?”
“Well,” I said. “I used to bike with someone but I don’t anymore. I need to know some things about bike maintenance. Do you guys do that kind of thing?”
“Oh heck, yeah!” he said. “I’m Kyle. If you’ve got some time right now, I’ll show you how to change your tire when I’m done here.”
“I have an appointment this afternoon, but are you around tomorrow?” I asked.
“Yeah, after 12,” he said, jumping off the top of the customer’s car. “I’ll get you a card.”
As he walked into the shop, I turned to the customer and apologized for taking Kyle away from his bike rack installation. The man smiled and said it was no problem and asked if I’d heard of the Butler-Freeport Trail. ‘Yay!’ I thought. ‘Common ground!’ Any insecurities I had melted away as he talked to me as a person who bikes, not a person who was formerly overweight or even who had sweaty gross hair. I felt on equal ground. That hasn’t happened very often in my obese or even in my formerly obese life. It’s not because of other people; it’s because of me and how I allow my FFG to throw me off balance.
The next day, I took my bike to the shop and Kyle showed me how to change a tube and gave me tips on maintenance. I am now the proud owner of a 700 x 35-40 inner tube, 3 tire levers, a portable air pump (which Kyle mounted on my bike) and a primo pressure gauge that works with both Schrader and Presta valves (and I know what each of them is…*grin*).
"In a car you're always in a compartment, and because you're used to it you don't realize that through that car window everything you see is just more TV. You're a passive observer and it is all moving by you boringly in a frame. On a cycle the frame is gone. You're completely in contact with it all. You're in the scene, not just watching it anymore, and the sense of presence is overwhelming."
I’ve spent too much time avoiding that which scares me. Moving forward in spite of my fears and not waiting for them to dissolve, I’ve discovered the beauty of self-empowerment. Not only do I learn something – a concrete skill or something about myself – I change something about myself. Not a bad way to spend a life. In what ways are you “in the scene” and not “just watching it anymore”?
Lori (whom many of you know from Finding Radiance) is an avid biker and is my go-to guru with all things biking. I asked her recently what she takes along with her when she rides and how I might go about seeking advice on bicycle maintenance.
“First off, if you are by yourself the one thing you should do is tell someone where you are going – or at least close to the general vicinity. (Note from Lynn: I always text a friend or my daughter when I start and let them know my ETA from the trailhead back to the Jeep. They know if they don’t hear from me within 20 minutes of that ETA to come find me.)
“I have a bike bag on the back of my bike. I always take:
“Cell phone; spare tube; small hand pump (or CO2 cartridge inflaters); tire lifters (small plastic wedges to remove tires); something like hard candy in case I am out too long; water. For long rides, I also include: a bike lock; food; sunscreen; anti-chafing cream; hand sanitizer; chain lube.
“I would also practice taking off your tire at home so that if it happens in the field, it won't be the first time. Most bike shops will have free classes on tire changing and maintenance, so definitely check them out!
I Googled bike shops in my area and found Michael’s Cycles: “Independent shop on the outskirts of town… We are a small, family-run business that treats everyone to courteous service. One of the biggest complaints we hear about bike shops is that if you aren't wearing spandex, you get ignored. Well, not here.” I knew this was a place I wanted to check out, so after a sweaty 2-mile hike in 88-degree heat through horse- and deer-fly infested woods, I went to Michael’s Cycles. A good sweat makes me more confident, and I knew that I needed all the confidence I could muster because whenever I set out to do this kind of thing alone, my FFG (former fat girl) comes along for the ride, keeping me just off balance enough that I feel a nagging sense of self-doubt.
It was just my luck that when I pulled into the parking lot, a young man was putting a bike rack on the top of a male customer’s car. I like men, but their Y chromosome makes me nervous. It’s one of those self-instilled FFG reactions/assumptions I fight all the time: I’ll be judged/stared at/laughed at/ignored.
The customer was sweaty, like he'd just been on a ride. He was about my age and, of course, nice looking. But I bucked up and walked across the lot. ‘I am responsible for how I allow myself to be treated,’ I told myself. ‘You are a woman who bikes, not a woman with baggage.’
As I approached them, the young man looked down from the bike rack and smiled. “Hi! What can I help you with?”
“Well,” I said. “I used to bike with someone but I don’t anymore. I need to know some things about bike maintenance. Do you guys do that kind of thing?”
“Oh heck, yeah!” he said. “I’m Kyle. If you’ve got some time right now, I’ll show you how to change your tire when I’m done here.”
“I have an appointment this afternoon, but are you around tomorrow?” I asked.
“Yeah, after 12,” he said, jumping off the top of the customer’s car. “I’ll get you a card.”
As he walked into the shop, I turned to the customer and apologized for taking Kyle away from his bike rack installation. The man smiled and said it was no problem and asked if I’d heard of the Butler-Freeport Trail. ‘Yay!’ I thought. ‘Common ground!’ Any insecurities I had melted away as he talked to me as a person who bikes, not a person who was formerly overweight or even who had sweaty gross hair. I felt on equal ground. That hasn’t happened very often in my obese or even in my formerly obese life. It’s not because of other people; it’s because of me and how I allow my FFG to throw me off balance.
The next day, I took my bike to the shop and Kyle showed me how to change a tube and gave me tips on maintenance. I am now the proud owner of a 700 x 35-40 inner tube, 3 tire levers, a portable air pump (which Kyle mounted on my bike) and a primo pressure gauge that works with both Schrader and Presta valves (and I know what each of them is…*grin*).
"In a car you're always in a compartment, and because you're used to it you don't realize that through that car window everything you see is just more TV. You're a passive observer and it is all moving by you boringly in a frame. On a cycle the frame is gone. You're completely in contact with it all. You're in the scene, not just watching it anymore, and the sense of presence is overwhelming."
I’ve spent too much time avoiding that which scares me. Moving forward in spite of my fears and not waiting for them to dissolve, I’ve discovered the beauty of self-empowerment. Not only do I learn something – a concrete skill or something about myself – I change something about myself. Not a bad way to spend a life. In what ways are you “in the scene” and not “just watching it anymore”?
Friday, July 1, 2011
Maintenance is a Marathon, Babe, Not a Sprint
My friend Colton is always reminding me, “Life’s a marathon, babe, not a sprint.”
The same can be said for maintenance. Only I forget sometimes and fail to see the big picture when I’m living inside my bubble of scale-watching minutia.
In maintenance (to paraphrase Newton), for every emotion, there’s an equal and opposite “remotion.” Since reaching goal four years ago, I’ve been challenged/bored, frustrated/encouraged, confused/crystal clear and obsessed/aware. Thankfully, however, for every moment of obsession, I seem to have a moment of awareness, usually sparked by a fellow maintainer.
Ellen of Fat Girl Wearing Thin posted a blog recently about the betters and worsts of maintenance. She begins, “Maintenance is a bit like experiencing the ups and downs in a long-term relationship. There are good days when everything is going along just fine and dandy. But then, there are other days when there is a bit of, how shall we say… inner turmoil?”
When I was no longer pursuing a scale goal and the compliments died off because everyone got used to me looking the way I do now and very few people – let alone me – understood how to stay the same weight, the question I had to answer was, “Now what?” I spent more than two years pursuing the bright light at the end of the tunnel (my goal weight), but when I got there, no one handed me the light and said, “Here you go, hon! You’ll always know where you’re going now.”
As I commented in Laura Jayne’s recent post on maintenance, when I reached goal at 138 pounds, my body took me down to 128. Then I started thinking 120 might be even better. I got to 125 before I understood how obsessed I’d become with losing AND how afraid I’d become of gaining. I stopped losing, but I took that obsession into the gym and began over-training. I paid a high price physically, injuring joints that were already battling osteoarthritis.
Two years ago, I allowed myself (albeit reluctantly, I admit) to sit in my obsession and to take my exercise routine down several notches to see what happened. And what happened was...not much. I maintained for a year before I had knee surgery (which was a year ago tomorrow…wow…has it been that long already?). Then perimenopause hit like a ton of bricks late last year. The result: I’ve gained about 10 pounds from my ideal weight of 130-132. Coming to terms with my ever-changing body at age 48 has definitely been the biggest maintenance challenge so far.
In maintenance, it’s imperative we direct the positive, determined energy we had while losing weight to other goals. To meet the challenge of my changing body, I decided last spring to concentrate my energy less on losing weight and more on exercise goals.
My first goal was to, by Labor Day, do a 20-mile bike ride with no more than a 5-minute break. Because I rode 19 miles in 1 hour, 35 minutes on Sunday (I was so proud of my knees!), I’ve changed that goal to 25 miles.
My second goal is to walk a 5K in 36 minutes, breaking my personal best of 38 minutes. So far I’ve walked 3 miles in 41 minutes, so I have a ways to go. But my thighs are strong and that makes me happy. I get outside and that makes me happy.
The other part of the challenge is, of course, food. I still watch my food intake, definitely. But I’ve loosened up some of my hard and fast rules, at least the ones that directed my obsession. For instance, I used to hate going out to eat. Was afraid to try food that – oh no! – might contain some fat! *eyeroll*
Now I love discovering new restaurants with fresh menus. I’m in love with Mad Mex and their pepita hummus, and their Overtly Masculine Grilled Portabello with Foo-Foo Tofu fajita is seriously fabulous. In my super-obsessed restrictive days, tabouli was taboo and tzatziki sauce was a no-no. Now, they’re my “usuals” at Greek Stop. It’s all about moderation and control and having the strength to get all Mom on myself when I beg for more than I need. Just as strong thighs make me happy, so does a good food find.
Maintenance doesn’t happen in a vacuum. Maintenance is part of the fiber of my life, and like everything in life, nothing stays the same. My body will change. My mind will change. These things happen over time. And time, as Lyn from Escape from Obesity wrote in a recent post, is the true measure of success.
Maintenance is a marathon, babe, not a sprint. There will be equals and opposites and obsessions along the way. But there can also be clarity and awareness that can take us on longer bike rides and faster walks, and lead us to some really excellent enchiladas and gyros if we just step outside the minutia and into the big picture.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
The secrets to my weight-loss maintenance (Athleta gift card giveaway).
(MizBeerThruStraw to MizAlmostRunsLikeWind.)
The longer I write about health & fitness the more I realize losing weight/getting healthy is, indeed, the easy part.
Sure it’s challenging to get started.
Yes it can be daunting to stay on our fit-paths & not veer off onto Slacker Lane or Poptarts Place.
Yet the number of emails I receive** from people (fingerquotes) at goal (unFQ) and filled with panic because they’re terrified they wont be able to maintain the loss is staggering.
Do I have all the answers? No.
Do I know what worked for me to shed 35ish pounds & keep it at bay for 17+ years? Yes.
I ate Breakfast. I began my trudge down this path never eating a morning meal, 35 pounds heavier and possessed zero muscle tone. I started down this path approximately 17 years ago. In 17 years Ive never once skipped breakfast. Ever. ‘Nuff said.It was NOT about the vessel. Before I get all it was about the inside! it was about how I felt!! on you allow me to clarify: it was initially about the outside. It was about the fact I couldn’t fit into my interview suits and I was too damn cheap & poor to procure new ones. That incentive, however, quickly waned. I realized to sustain my commitment to healthful living I needed more motivation than my snazzy red skirt suit. Which led me to…I created a Fitness Mission Statement®. Simply put: this phrase captures why I do what I do in the realm of health. Precisely what I’m doing at any given time may change (from karate to kettle bells) but why has remained fairly static over the almost two decades. Make time to sit, think, and write down exactly why you want to lose weight/maintain your weight-loss. Specifics beyond skinny jeans or bikini-season. If you’re stuck perhaps consider how this endeavor impacts all facets of your life and not just what’s in your closet.I chose to be healthy. I still do. I wake each morning and recommit to the path I’ve chosen. I take personal responsibility for the decisions I make throughout my day. Sure they’re not always the best (Howdy aforementioned Poptart Place! Greetings Skipped Workout Blvd!) but I accept responsibility, acknowledge, & decide to choose more wisely next time.I was consistent. I am consistent. I also consistently do less than my body is capable of doing. I started off like a misfit a’fire and quickly overtrained. I fell head-over-heels in love with my emerging muscles and lifted so frequently they began to grow *smaller* (go me!). It was then I realized unless I was training to compete I responded better to shorter workouts. Brief, intense sessions leave my body craving MORE the next day—not so wrecked & sore I dread exercising again. This consistency, and ZERO FITS & STARTS, has changed my life. More than staying physically fit I’ve avoided the emotional beating starting & stopping healthy living does to us all.I recognized I had worth even if nothing changed. I was already enough. Whether this translated to treating myself better and helped me stay on my path is debatable, but the fact this realization has permeated & impacted every facet of my life is not. From my world of work to my inter-personal relationships I *know* I am worthy.So there you have it.
The six tips I credit for helping me maintain my loss for 17 years without a slip or sliiiiiiiide back into old habits.
Ever.
Now you.
Whether you’ve been on your journey for one day or a thousand I’m confident you’ve picked up a trick or three.
What’s the biggest!thing! you’ve learned thus far?
You may be entered to win an 100.00 gift card to Athleta for the lowlow cost of your best healthy living tip below.
I know I cheered when Athleta was founded (five long years into my healthy living journey) as I adored both the apparel they sold and the fit, *strong*, powerful looking women represented in their catalog’s pages.
USA only. Winner announced 6.27.11
**And interview requests. Here’s where I unapologetically link my snippet on Yahoo! homepage as unless I tweet my privates or get me a reality show I may never make it there again.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Zen and the Art of Bicycle Maintenance
“Like those in the valley behind us, most people stand in sight of the spiritual mountains all their lives and never enter them, being content to listen to others who have been there and thus avoid the hardships.” From Zen and the Art Of Motorcycle Maintenance Biking is a “spiritual mountain” to me, but I’m not content, as the quote above contends, to merely stand in the sight of that mountain. I understand the importance of listening to others who’ve been there to learn how I might avoid some of the hardships. It occurred to me while riding the last leg of the Butler-Freeport Trail alone last week – having ridden six miles more than I planned and being very hungry but having no food with me and still nine miles from my car when I ran over a rock that I thought punctured my tire but didn’t – that perhaps…perhaps…I should learn something about bike maintenance.
Lori (whom many of you know from Finding Radiance) is an avid biker and is my go-to guru with all things biking. I asked her recently what she takes along with her when she rides and how I might go about seeking advice on bicycle maintenance.
“First off, if you are by yourself the one thing you should do is tell someone where you are going – or at least close to the general vicinity. (Note from Lynn: I always text a friend or my daughter when I start and let them know my ETA from the trailhead back to the Jeep. They know if they don’t hear from me within 20 minutes of that ETA to come find me.)
“Cell phone; spare tube; small hand pump (or CO2 cartridge inflaters); tire lifters (small plastic wedges to remove tires); something like hard candy in case I am out too long; water. For long rides, I also include: a bike lock; food; sunscreen; anti-chafing cream; hand sanitizer; chain lube.
I Googled bike shops in my area and found Michael’s Cycles: “Independent shop on the outskirts of town… We are a small, family-run business that treats everyone to courteous service. One of the biggest complaints we hear about bike shops is that if you aren't wearing spandex, you get ignored. Well, not here.” I knew this was a place I wanted to check out, so after a sweaty 2-mile hike in 88-degree heat through horse- and deer-fly infested woods, I went to Michael’s Cycles. A good sweat makes me more confident, and I knew that I needed all the confidence I could muster because whenever I set out to do this kind of thing alone, my FFG (former fat girl) comes along for the ride, keeping me just off balance enough that I feel a nagging sense of self-doubt.
It was just my luck that when I pulled into the parking lot, a young man was putting a bike rack on the top of a male customer’s car. I like men, but their Y chromosome makes me nervous. It’s one of those self-instilled FFG reactions/assumptions I fight all the time: I’ll be judged/stared at/laughed at/ignored.
The customer was sweaty, like he'd just been on a ride. He was about my age and, of course, nice looking. But I bucked up and walked across the lot. ‘I am responsible for how I allow myself to be treated,’ I told myself. ‘You are a woman who bikes, not a woman with baggage.’
As I approached them, the young man looked down from the bike rack and smiled. “Hi! What can I help you with?”
“Well,” I said. “I used to bike with someone but I don’t anymore. I need to know some things about bike maintenance. Do you guys do that kind of thing?”
“Oh heck, yeah!” he said. “I’m Kyle. If you’ve got some time right now, I’ll show you how to change your tire when I’m done here.”
“I have an appointment this afternoon, but are you around tomorrow?” I asked.
“Yeah, after 12,” he said, jumping off the top of the customer’s car. “I’ll get you a card.”
As he walked into the shop, I turned to the customer and apologized for taking Kyle away from his bike rack installation. The man smiled and said it was no problem and asked if I’d heard of the Butler-Freeport Trail. ‘Yay!’ I thought. ‘Common ground!’ Any insecurities I had melted away as he talked to me as a person who bikes, not a person who was formerly overweight or even who had sweaty gross hair. I felt on equal ground. That hasn’t happened very often in my obese or even in my formerly obese life. It’s not because of other people; it’s because of me and how I allow my FFG to throw me off balance.
The next day, I took my bike to the shop and Kyle showed me how to change a tube and gave me tips on maintenance. I am now the proud owner of a 700 x 35-40 inner tube, 3 tire levers, a portable air pump (which Kyle mounted on my bike) and a primo pressure gauge that works with both Schrader and Presta valves (and I know what each of them is…*grin*).
"In a car you're always in a compartment, and because you're used to it you don't realize that through that car window everything you see is just more TV. You're a passive observer and it is all moving by you boringly in a frame. On a cycle the frame is gone. You're completely in contact with it all. You're in the scene, not just watching it anymore, and the sense of presence is overwhelming."
I’ve spent too much time avoiding that which scares me. Moving forward in spite of my fears and not waiting for them to dissolve, I’ve discovered the beauty of self-empowerment. Not only do I learn something – a concrete skill or something about myself – I change something about myself. Not a bad way to spend a life. In what ways are you “in the scene” and not “just watching it anymore”?
Lori (whom many of you know from Finding Radiance) is an avid biker and is my go-to guru with all things biking. I asked her recently what she takes along with her when she rides and how I might go about seeking advice on bicycle maintenance.
“First off, if you are by yourself the one thing you should do is tell someone where you are going – or at least close to the general vicinity. (Note from Lynn: I always text a friend or my daughter when I start and let them know my ETA from the trailhead back to the Jeep. They know if they don’t hear from me within 20 minutes of that ETA to come find me.)
“I have a bike bag on the back of my bike. I always take:
“Cell phone; spare tube; small hand pump (or CO2 cartridge inflaters); tire lifters (small plastic wedges to remove tires); something like hard candy in case I am out too long; water. For long rides, I also include: a bike lock; food; sunscreen; anti-chafing cream; hand sanitizer; chain lube.
“I would also practice taking off your tire at home so that if it happens in the field, it won't be the first time. Most bike shops will have free classes on tire changing and maintenance, so definitely check them out!
I Googled bike shops in my area and found Michael’s Cycles: “Independent shop on the outskirts of town… We are a small, family-run business that treats everyone to courteous service. One of the biggest complaints we hear about bike shops is that if you aren't wearing spandex, you get ignored. Well, not here.” I knew this was a place I wanted to check out, so after a sweaty 2-mile hike in 88-degree heat through horse- and deer-fly infested woods, I went to Michael’s Cycles. A good sweat makes me more confident, and I knew that I needed all the confidence I could muster because whenever I set out to do this kind of thing alone, my FFG (former fat girl) comes along for the ride, keeping me just off balance enough that I feel a nagging sense of self-doubt.
It was just my luck that when I pulled into the parking lot, a young man was putting a bike rack on the top of a male customer’s car. I like men, but their Y chromosome makes me nervous. It’s one of those self-instilled FFG reactions/assumptions I fight all the time: I’ll be judged/stared at/laughed at/ignored.
The customer was sweaty, like he'd just been on a ride. He was about my age and, of course, nice looking. But I bucked up and walked across the lot. ‘I am responsible for how I allow myself to be treated,’ I told myself. ‘You are a woman who bikes, not a woman with baggage.’
As I approached them, the young man looked down from the bike rack and smiled. “Hi! What can I help you with?”
“Well,” I said. “I used to bike with someone but I don’t anymore. I need to know some things about bike maintenance. Do you guys do that kind of thing?”
“Oh heck, yeah!” he said. “I’m Kyle. If you’ve got some time right now, I’ll show you how to change your tire when I’m done here.”
“I have an appointment this afternoon, but are you around tomorrow?” I asked.
“Yeah, after 12,” he said, jumping off the top of the customer’s car. “I’ll get you a card.”
As he walked into the shop, I turned to the customer and apologized for taking Kyle away from his bike rack installation. The man smiled and said it was no problem and asked if I’d heard of the Butler-Freeport Trail. ‘Yay!’ I thought. ‘Common ground!’ Any insecurities I had melted away as he talked to me as a person who bikes, not a person who was formerly overweight or even who had sweaty gross hair. I felt on equal ground. That hasn’t happened very often in my obese or even in my formerly obese life. It’s not because of other people; it’s because of me and how I allow my FFG to throw me off balance.
The next day, I took my bike to the shop and Kyle showed me how to change a tube and gave me tips on maintenance. I am now the proud owner of a 700 x 35-40 inner tube, 3 tire levers, a portable air pump (which Kyle mounted on my bike) and a primo pressure gauge that works with both Schrader and Presta valves (and I know what each of them is…*grin*).
"In a car you're always in a compartment, and because you're used to it you don't realize that through that car window everything you see is just more TV. You're a passive observer and it is all moving by you boringly in a frame. On a cycle the frame is gone. You're completely in contact with it all. You're in the scene, not just watching it anymore, and the sense of presence is overwhelming."
I’ve spent too much time avoiding that which scares me. Moving forward in spite of my fears and not waiting for them to dissolve, I’ve discovered the beauty of self-empowerment. Not only do I learn something – a concrete skill or something about myself – I change something about myself. Not a bad way to spend a life. In what ways are you “in the scene” and not “just watching it anymore”?
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Weight Maintenance: A Second Chance For Vigilance
(Mathilda enjoying her nightly treat last night.)
I feel like I've been given a second chance to appreciate Mathilda. While it’s never easy to put a pet down, I wasn’t “ready” to do it right now. Not that I’ll ever be ready, but at least I’ll have more peace with it when it comes because I was given a second chance.
Second chances don’t come around every day, and often when we’re offered one, we don’t recognize it as such. We take so much for granted, or we allow things to happen to us without fighting back – a sort of “Oh well” approach to life – which leaves us blind to those second-chance opportunities.
Since reaching my goal weight in 2007, I recognized this time (because I’d been to “goal” before) as a second (or more accurately, a tenth) chance to figure out the right way to maintain my weight and appreciate my body unlike I’d done before. But just how does one maintain? What are the emotional mechanics involved? Lori at Finding Radiance (she’s maintaining a 100-pound weight loss) got me thinking about this in her blog last week about our impulse to eat (see “Deep Thoughts On Will Power”).
Here's a portion of what she wrote (the emphasis is mine): “There are still those days where I feel driven to eat – absolutely driven, even if I am not hungry. It’s not really emotional, either. The thoughts pop up while I am working, or watching TV, or while biking. That’s just not what genetically ‘normal weight’ people are like. It takes an enormous amount of control to not chow my way through a box of cereal or use a spoon in the nut butter jar. Sometimes I give in. I wonder why is it that I have control over this impulse (at least for now) that not a lot of people have. And how long will I have it? Will it just get to be too tiring after a while, like it does for the majority of people who lose weight? The vigilance can really be tiring at times as it is 24/7/365.”
There are a LOT of great responses on her post, so I urge you to read it in its entirety. But what about those questions: Why is it some people who are losing weight or in maintenance have control over that eating impulse and some do not? Is vigilance the key (and if so, what else is involved)? Or does vigilance stand in the way and get tiring after awhile?
As I commented on Lori’s blog, what makes one person more likely to maintain than another is like pondering the beginnings of the universe. There are so many possibilities, and the combination of success-inducing factors for each individual is endless.
In my case, I didn’t keep weight off in the past because I hadn’t learned or accepted that the way I eat during and after losing weight MUST be different than before, and it must stay that way forever and ever. I credit stubbornness and my teenager-like positive response to reverse psychology for being able to maintain. If you tell me that 95 percent of people who lose weight will gain it back, therefore I probably will, too, I’ll tell you, “No way. Not me.”
It’s a quasi-obsession, and not such a bad one to have as long as I stay mindful of what is realistically possible – for instance, maintaining around 130 rather than 125, and being open to changes in my body that might take my weight a little higher due to circumstances beyond my control.
I am also convinced that at some point, the kind of vigilance to my food environment and impulses that I’ve adopted will become second nature, like knowing intuitively that in order to walk I must put one foot in front of the other.
I know this tide of change is well under way because of how I responded to food after my knee surgery in June. I was sad and frustrated many times (still am on occasion) and could have chosen to comfort myself with all my old favorites, but that didn’t occur to me. I just kept on eating the way I always had, adding a few more calories when I was hungry (healing from an injury, I’m convinced, revved up my metabolism).
Sometimes those extra calories came from adding a whole egg to my otherwise egg-white omelet or throwing a tablespoon of mini chocolate chips into a dish of fat-free strawberry ice cream. A far cry from dollops of butter on a half a loaf of French bread or a chocolate chip cookie and a not non-fat latte from Starbucks, as per the other times I’d made “goal” because I felt that somehow I was “safe” to eat whatever I wanted.
Recovering from this surgery, I didn’t stray from my normal food plan, partly because my stomach simply can’t handle the calorie load anymore, but mostly because I never want to feel that kind of fullness that I experienced after third helpings of dinner when I was 300 pounds. This time, there was no reaching for Tums or regrets the next morning over any of my choices the day before. Thanks to this vigilance-turned-second-nature, the scale has held steady and my clothes still fit.
Now I find comfort not so much in the food but in my food plan. It’s like the towel we wrap around Mathilda’s hind quarters to support her when she goes down stairs.
Can everyone who loses weight adopt this kind of vigilance? I really don’t know. Everyone’s physical and psychological makeup is different. Stubbornness isn’t something you learn and obsession isn’t something everyone sees as a positive attribute. Succeeding in maintenance requires each of us to find our own way to that second nature. But we won’t get there without first seeing it as the second chance that it is.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Weight Maintenance: A Second Chance For Vigilance
(Mathilda enjoying her nightly treat last night.)
I feel like I've been given a second chance to appreciate Mathilda. While it’s never easy to put a pet down, I wasn’t “ready” to do it right now. Not that I’ll ever be ready, but at least I’ll have more peace with it when it comes because I was given a second chance.
Second chances don’t come around every day, and often when we’re offered one, we don’t recognize it as such. We take so much for granted, or we allow things to happen to us without fighting back – a sort of “Oh well” approach to life – which leaves us blind to those second-chance opportunities.
Since reaching my goal weight in 2007, I recognized this time (because I’d been to “goal” before) as a second (or more accurately, a tenth) chance to figure out the right way to maintain my weight and appreciate my body unlike I’d done before. But just how does one maintain? What are the emotional mechanics involved? Lori at Finding Radiance (she’s maintaining a 100-pound weight loss) got me thinking about this in her blog last week about our impulse to eat (see “Deep Thoughts On Will Power”).
Here's a portion of what she wrote (the emphasis is mine): “There are still those days where I feel driven to eat – absolutely driven, even if I am not hungry. It’s not really emotional, either. The thoughts pop up while I am working, or watching TV, or while biking. That’s just not what genetically ‘normal weight’ people are like. It takes an enormous amount of control to not chow my way through a box of cereal or use a spoon in the nut butter jar. Sometimes I give in. I wonder why is it that I have control over this impulse (at least for now) that not a lot of people have. And how long will I have it? Will it just get to be too tiring after a while, like it does for the majority of people who lose weight? The vigilance can really be tiring at times as it is 24/7/365.”
There are a LOT of great responses on her post, so I urge you to read it in its entirety. But what about those questions: Why is it some people who are losing weight or in maintenance have control over that eating impulse and some do not? Is vigilance the key (and if so, what else is involved)? Or does vigilance stand in the way and get tiring after awhile?
As I commented on Lori’s blog, what makes one person more likely to maintain than another is like pondering the beginnings of the universe. There are so many possibilities, and the combination of success-inducing factors for each individual is endless.
In my case, I didn’t keep weight off in the past because I hadn’t learned or accepted that the way I eat during and after losing weight MUST be different than before, and it must stay that way forever and ever. I credit stubbornness and my teenager-like positive response to reverse psychology for being able to maintain. If you tell me that 95 percent of people who lose weight will gain it back, therefore I probably will, too, I’ll tell you, “No way. Not me.”
It’s a quasi-obsession, and not such a bad one to have as long as I stay mindful of what is realistically possible – for instance, maintaining around 130 rather than 125, and being open to changes in my body that might take my weight a little higher due to circumstances beyond my control.
I am also convinced that at some point, the kind of vigilance to my food environment and impulses that I’ve adopted will become second nature, like knowing intuitively that in order to walk I must put one foot in front of the other.
I know this tide of change is well under way because of how I responded to food after my knee surgery in June. I was sad and frustrated many times (still am on occasion) and could have chosen to comfort myself with all my old favorites, but that didn’t occur to me. I just kept on eating the way I always had, adding a few more calories when I was hungry (healing from an injury, I’m convinced, revved up my metabolism).
Sometimes those extra calories came from adding a whole egg to my otherwise egg-white omelet or throwing a tablespoon of mini chocolate chips into a dish of fat-free strawberry ice cream. A far cry from dollops of butter on a half a loaf of French bread or a chocolate chip cookie and a not non-fat latte from Starbucks, as per the other times I’d made “goal” because I felt that somehow I was “safe” to eat whatever I wanted.
Recovering from this surgery, I didn’t stray from my normal food plan, partly because my stomach simply can’t handle the calorie load anymore, but mostly because I never want to feel that kind of fullness that I experienced after third helpings of dinner when I was 300 pounds. This time, there was no reaching for Tums or regrets the next morning over any of my choices the day before. Thanks to this vigilance-turned-second-nature, the scale has held steady and my clothes still fit.
Now I find comfort not so much in the food but in my food plan. It’s like the towel we wrap around Mathilda’s hind quarters to support her when she goes down stairs.
Can everyone who loses weight adopt this kind of vigilance? I really don’t know. Everyone’s physical and psychological makeup is different. Stubbornness isn’t something you learn and obsession isn’t something everyone sees as a positive attribute. Succeeding in maintenance requires each of us to find our own way to that second nature. But we won’t get there without first seeing it as the second chance that it is.
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